Chapter 68: Fight For Your Life
The most ideal build for any aspiring warrior is simple: Fighter, Warrior, and, finally, the Knight Class (that is, unless one can make it to Paladin, but that is so rare I shall dedicate another chapter to the Special Classes). A level 8 Knight, ready to sign for the next class, is so much stronger than a beginning player that it is not even comparable. By the end of the fighter class, one can expect a 20% increase in both the Defense Skill and the Strength Skill. 20% is a modest improvement, but the Knight yields a much, much, higher stat boost. That same level 8 Knight is somewhere between 100-240% stronger than a level 1 fighter, depending on their stat allocation which the Knight allows at the very end. This means a Knight is able to lift many more times weight than the regular player who never had a strength boost. It goes with out saying that this enormous increase to the base stats, alongside the six total abilities one will have by the end of the Knight contract, makes this build a daunting one to fight, even for an OP player.
-The Esem Survival Guide, Nosterly Quarter
“Charge!”
Claire and Alex stood to either side of Brent, their swords leveled at different areas of the forest. The command seemed to come from all sides. It sounded like an army was beyond, having appeared from the depths of the forest.
“Circle!” Shouted Chase. His bow was knocked and drawn behind Brent, his arrow pointed at the forest as the sounds of pounding footfalls grew louder. “They have an Illusion mage out there. Don’t be fooled by their numbers, we can still make it out of here!”
“Why weren’t we able to smell them?” Said Meredith. She sounded calm but Brent heard a trace of panic in her voice.
“It must have been the mage,” said Chase. “They knew we were coming somehow.”
“It must be the innkeeper,” said Alex. “He heard us talking and came to warn them.”
“Possibly,” began Chase, but then he released his arrow and the bolt flew into the forest. The sound of a heavy thump reverberated despite the noise and there was a small cry of pain.
The trees erupted with enemies. A least a dozen people came into the light of the fire, swords raised and ready to fight. All of them wore masks yet some of them had the same smoky appearance of the dead apparitions they had defeated only moments before. Despite the sounds of a charge none were running, and they waited until all their forces were gathered before stepping forward. The one in front, seemingly their leader, lowered his sword and shook his head slightly.
“That was quite the shot, Chase,” said the man. “You got our mage right in the chest. How did you see him?”
“I saw his necklace flash in the firelight,” said Chase with a small laugh. “Rookie mistake.”
“Not bad,” said the man. His mask was painted black and had silver swirls around the eyes. Some of his men were beginning to smoke badly now. “You shouldn’t have come here. I guess that beating today wasn’t enough.”
“It really wasn’t,” said Meredith suddenly. “You should have killed us when you had the chance.”
“A mistake which we shall be rectifying tonight,” said a female voice to the side of the leader.
Meredith released her arrow, and suddenly it was sticking out the eyehole of the woman who had spoken. She gasped slightly and then tumbled over.
“That’s the second time tonight I got to kill her,” said Meredith with glee.
“Charge!” Shouted the leader again.
Brent readied his stance as the players came around the fire. Though it was less of a charge and more of a careful push around the campfire. The fighters were split into two: Brent and Claire stood before Chase to the right, and Alex and Daniel shielded Meredith to the left. Both guild leaders fired off arrows as quickly as they could, managing to fell at least another two and wounding several more. Some of the wounded burst into smoke, clearly the failing illusions of the dead or dying mage out in the woods.
“You’re mine!” Said the first masked man before Brent. He was flanked by two others but did not have enough room to approach them head on. Instead Claire and Brent both had their own opponent which made the third had to wait slightly to the side for an opening.
Brent lunged for his attacker. His blade was swiped away and the fight truly began. Beside him, Claire had done the same and was forcing the masked man to step close to the fire, and unenviable position to take, but Brent had little time to focus upon her strategy. He parried another strike and the player laughed behind his mask.
“You’re weak, boy. What level are you?”
Brent felt his blood begin to boil. Taunting an opponent during battle was something he had learned long ago was beneath contempt.
“You’re a pathetic and weak man!” Shouted Chase across the fire. In the corner of his vision Brent saw his leader fire an arrow at the man who had remained in position while his minions were fighting. The leader had been holding up a makeshift shield using a log and shrieked in pain as the arrow bit into his thigh. “How do you like that you stupid schlub?!”
“Damn you!” Cried the leader, thrashing on the ground in pain.
“Take that!” Shouted Brent’s opponent. Despite the distraction Brent had never taken his eyes from the masked man, who now slashed at him from an over head position. Raising his blade, Brent managed to stop it before he was struck but now they were in a standstill, just by the force of their muscles.
If I had more than 10% added strength I could easily push him back, thought Brent, gritting his teeth with the exertion. Then he remembered something Claire had done months earlier.
Brent kicked his opponent in the belly, causing him to release a huge gust of air in surprise. The sword remained raised but his grip slackened, and Brent knocked the sword from his hand.
“No, please,” wheezed the man. But it was too late. Brent raised his sword high over head and brought it down like a comet streaking through the sky into the heart of Esem itself. His arm reverberated as his blade bit into flesh and bone and the man fell over, his life pouring from his neck upon the ground.
There was no time to celebrate, as the man’s friend had stepped in almost instantly the moment the masked man fell. His mask appeared almost pink in the fires glow, but had three red lines across the front as though slashed by a bear in the woods. Arrows flew over head as Chase and Meredith fired into the trees, careful not to hit the Fighters.
“What are you shooting at?” Brent called back as he fought his new opponent. Their swords rang in the night. Claire seemed to have the upper hand as her attacker’s clothes were ripped and blood coated his arms and chest.
“We can see some more figures in the woods!” Said Meredith. “It might just be the illusion mage, but better safe than sorry.”
He could only manage a grunt in response as he dodged he mans sword. The blade barely nicked his arm and he felt a sharp pain, but his adrenaline was such that he barely felt the cut. If possible, the masked man burned with rage. He was clearly a better fighter than his dead compatriot on the ground and Brent was having a harder time keeping him at bay. He wanted to turn his head to check upon Alex but that would mean death, he was sure.
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“Stupid kid,” said the man as Brent caught his blade with his own. “You can’t defeat the Nobodies, even if you got our mage!”
“Shut up,” responded Brent. He pushed the man away and their swords came apart. He tried to slash at the mans chest but his sword was easily knocked to the side.
The man chuckled darkly.
“You’re a noobie, boy, I can tell,” he said. “You wouldn’t be out here in Birchtown if you weren’t.”
Just then Claire’s opponent screamed. Brent risked a glance to the side to see that she had impaled her opponent to the hilt of her sword. Arrows were still flying over head but instead of in the forest they were making sure the leader of the masked men could not crawl away. Brent was sure he must look like a pincushion by this point.
“Fool!” Cried his opponent, and Brent felt a sharp pain in his shoulder.
He gasped.
The man’s blade was sticking in his shoulder, but he quickly ripped it out and the sliding steel though his skin felt like a razor passing across his flesh.
Never take your eyes off your opponent! Brent thought angrily. The pain as well as the shame gave him new energy and he renewed his attack with vigor. The man parried and took a step back, breathing hard with the exertion. Claire was wiping off her blade on her fallen opponent and in the back of his mind Brent knew that if she tried to intercede he would never forgive her.
He leveled his blade at the masked man.
“Help the others, Claire,” sad Brent from the side of his mouth. “This one is mine.”
Then the man did something that he did not expect. He lowered his blade and nodded his head. It was a sign of respect.
“You’re not a bad kid,” said the man. “I hope you are learning much from this fight. Too bad you will die tonight.”
Brent wanted to take the opportunity to run him through, but instead returned the nod and likewise lowered his blade slightly.
“You are better with that sword than your friends.”
The masked man looked down at the two dead men on the ground and, though Brent could never know for sure, felt as though he smiled grimly.
“They died for what they believed in, and will go to the afterlife as heroes.”
“What life is that?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” said the man as he shook his head. “And there is no time to explain. Are you ready?”
“After you.”
“Heh,” the man laughed with sarcasm. “Very well.”
The masked man brought his sword close, pointed at the sky, the hilt near his face. He stood there for a moment, and then Brent felt a change in the air. Something like electricity seemed to undulate off his opponent’s very being, and the night pulsed with energy.
“Battle Frenzy!” Shouted the man.
Brent barely blocked the attack. His opponent swung again, and again, faster and stronger than he had before. He fought as though a demon possessed him, and it was all Brent could do to defend, much less find an opportunity to attack.
“That’s the level 6 Fighter ability, Brent!” Shouted Chase from behind him. “Let me shoot him!”
“No!” Brent screamed. He slash at his opponents chest but he nimbly dodged the strike and answered with a blow of his own. This one tore into Brent’s other shoulder and the pain could not be stopped by adrenaline this time. “He’s mine!”
The masked man was nearly a blur before him, and seemed to by toying with Brent. One moment he was at his side, parrying a strike, the next he was before him, stabbing him in the leg. Brent wanted to scream with frustration, but suddenly an opening presented itself. After one such strike the man appeared to be losing energy, and his motions slowed down. Brent was sure the Class Ability was almost over, and so lunged with his sword at the man’s chest.
“Stone Skin,” muttered the man. He had caught Brent’s blade with a single hand, his other bearing his sword and ready to strike. Brent tried to wrest his blade away but his grip was too firm.
“Brent!” Yelled Meredith.
“This,” said the man. He stabbed Brent in the side with all the force he was able. “Is where you die.”
He worked his blade into Brent’s side, but Brent could not feel a thing. He man jumped with surprise as he saw no reaction from his supposed victim.
“Stone Skin,” said Brent, smiling manically. “And yours has just run out.”
Brent tore his blade free of the masked man’s grip, slicing his hand and fingers as he did so. The man screamed, and in his pain Brent brought his sword down on his opponents sword hand, severing the hand and causing the sword to fall to the ground.
“But...but,” he stammered. “They didn’t say you had that ability yet!”
“You should have watched my fight in Birchtown, then,” said Brent. He spit upon the ground and then kicked the masked man’s severed hand into the dark of the woods. The man watched his hand disappear, and then stood there like the fool he was, bearing only a bleeding stump on his right wrist and a mutilated hand on his left.
“I yield! I-!”
Brent swung his sword at the man’s neck, and his head and then his body joined his friend upon the ground. Brent could almost hear the experience points filling his journal, but there was no time to celebrate. Brent could finally see what Alex and Daniel were up to, and saw them both fighting the same man. A body lay on the ground, and their opponent had two swords drawn and were fighting them both off easily.
“Shoot him!” Cried Alex, barely dodging a strike meant for his head. “Chase!”
“You can do it, Alex,” said Brent. He wanted to call him a coward instead, but there was something disquieting about the bodies around himself that made him hold his tongue.
I killed real people tonight, he realized. Not just goblins, but people. They died differently than NPCs.
“Daniel!” Said Meredith at the top of her voice. “Duck!”
“Okay I...AH!” Daniel screamed, and the masked man cackled with joy. Daniel was doubled over, the man’s blade in his belly.
Meredith screamed.
“DAN!”
Alex roared. He charged the man despite the free sword in his opponents left hand. Perhaps it was the satisfaction in felling an opponent during a fight that would surely mean his life, but the masked man didn’t even raise his sword to block. He merely turned his mask to face Alex and cackled again.
As Alex’s blade fell the man was still laughing, and also as he fell. His laughs slowly faded as Alex struck and stabbed the man again, and again, and again. Blood sprayed this way and that as Alex severed arteries and even the fire sizzled with the droplets such was their range.
Though all the attackers were down or dead the real chaos began. Both Meredith and Chase rushed to Daniel’s side as Claire tried to calm Alex down, who was still sticking his dead opponent. Brent thought everything was moving in slow motion again, as it had for him during the tournament fight against Hackney. Only this time it was different. He was not fighting, and instead of bloodlust he only felt dread as he watched Daniel writhing on the ground in pain as he clutched his stomach.
“You’re gonna be okay!” Said Meredith, trying to sound soothing but instead in a full blown panic. “We just have to get you back to Amelie and Clark. Daniel! Daniel?”
“We’re gonna have to carry him,” said Chase grimly. “Stay with us, Dan. You’re gonna make it, I swear!”
Brent felt his body start to move of its own accord. He felt as though he were in a dream. He stepped over the bodies of his slain enemies and heading to where the leader of the masked men lay. The sounds of his guild talking with desperation barely entered his mind.
“..gonna make it.”
“Amelie can...”
“...stop it now!”
“The blood, the blood...”
Now Brent was standing over the masked leader, his sword leaning against his shoulder as he looked down upon the man. The leader was breathing shallowly on the ground, filled with at least half a dozen arrows strategically placed to prevent his escape but not to kill him. Brent noted two in both his legs, and another in his calf. Also his arms had been pierced, with one of the bolts breaking though his elbow.
Brent kicked him, and he groaned. His mask slowly turned to behold Brent.
“You win,” said the masked leader. “Leave me to die and be done with it.”
Bending over, Brent grabbed the mask, and yanked it free from the mans face.
“Fancy a drink?” Said the innkeeper with a chuckle. Then he winced as Brent kicked him again.
“Ouch.”
“Why?” Said Brent.
“Why what?”
“Why attack us?”
“A new age is dawning,” said the innkeeper. There was pain, but no fear in his eyes. He appeared to be less an NPC in that moment and more a human. “Xemnara has come for the nobodies. And you will feel her wrath one day, trust me.”
“You’re about to feel my wrath,” said Brent simply, as though he were telling Thomas not to play with the fire.
“Is that so?” Said the innkeeper. He spit to the side and shook his head. “I’ve been feeling the wrath of human players for a thousand years. You’re anger is nothing, boy. Xemnara has saved me.”
“Can she save you from this?”
Brent plunged his sword into the innkeepers chest, right in the heart. The NPC yelped in surprise and pain, and Brent could hear Chase screaming at him from the now smoldering campfire. Brent leaned in close to the NPC so that he could hear him die. He wanted to remember his final breaths.
The NPCs lips moved, and Brent could hear his final words.
“What did you say?” Said Brent, as the NPC died.
“He is coming,” said the innkeeper. “He is coming to end the NPCs plight...the baby...lord, I...”
And there the innkeeper died. Brent’s sword in his heart and in the middle of the woods somewhere outside of Birchtown.
The battle was won.