Chapter 90: Dead Men Walking

Four hundred and seventy two days. This is how long I was the captive of the Bleeding Darts guild. They captured me whilst my own guild, the Harbingers of Duty, were resting in Tangamar. I had wanted to go see the cherry blossoms in Nabonoban, but had been out voted when my second in command broke the tie. Tangamar hadn’t been bad, but I knew the danger we were in and how difficult it would be to keep us all safe on those islands where people wonder off to see the sunsets and forget their own names such are the libations. I had warned everyone to stick together and not go off along as the Bleeding Darts had been targeting us for months.

Of course, most ironically, I had been the one captured! One of them had donned a disguise made from a powerful illusion and then spiked my drink. I remember little of that afternoon, and only came to hours later in the back of a wagon, bound hand and foot. It has always remained a great curiosity to me how they got me past the Gate without alerting the guards, but soon I was tucked safely away in the castle in the Hub. They locked me in a furnished room in their dungeon and from there the demands began. They wanted my guild to pay them close to one million and a half gold for my safe release. I told them my guild had no such funds, yet they refused to believe me.

Why did I not escape? The food they gave me was cooked in a potion called ‘Sluggish Effects,’ which prevented me from resisting in any meaningful way. I could hardly form a cogent sentence let along consider escaping from my captors. Eventually, when the demands were not met, they allowed me to begin writing letters to my guild. These letters were of course carefully overseen by the Bleeding Darts to ensure I was not giving away vital information about the castle defenses. Less than six months into my captivity and the Bleeding Darts decided on a different method to coax their desired response.

I was alone in my cell when suddenly a familiar voice came to me. Turning around on my pallet of cushions where I had been reading a novel generously given by a sympathetic player, I saw my very own Advisor, Cain. Advisor Cain was seen as a neutral third party who would not interfere in the going ons of players or their guilds. Sure enough, the bastard refused to free me, instead advising me as he did best on the proper course of action. Cain acted as a go between for several months, finally negotiating the cost of my freedom down to a quarter of a million gold.

His help was most appreciated, but it also led to the end of my guild, or at least my involvement in it. On the four hundred and seventy second day since my capture, I was released into the disappointed and impoverished arms of my guild, who quickly banished my from their presence.

To this day I miss my guild.

-The published Journal of Alestor the Craven, SD811

“So it goes!” Said Ethan, shaking his head.

“Yes it does,” said Markon, returning the coin to his pocket. “And so today is the day the Banes died.”

“Great,” said Astor, rubbing his hands together as though he were ordering a delicious muffin. “I’ll start.”

Markon held up his hand and glowered at the red haired man, who returned the sword he had been drawing to his scabbard with a look of disappointment.

“We do this right,” said Markon, turning to face the Banes. He stared at each on them in turn. “We will now be hearing your final words. After that, it’s over.”

“So kind of you,” muttered Marlon.

“‘So kind of you,’” said Ethan. He had summoned his journal and was scratching down what Marlon had just said.

“What? No!” Said Marlon, aghast. “Those aren’t my final words! Come now, please let me—.”

“Shut it, Marlon, I don’t think they care,” said Claire, sounding tired. She had her arms crossed and was leaning against Moonshine’s stall.

“‘Shut it Marlon, I…don’t think…they care’,” repeated Ethan.

“Amazing,” said Thomas, managing a small laugh despite the situation. “Marlon never was good with women.”

“Marlon was—,” began Ethan.

“Hey!” Said Marlon, rounding on the little boy. “You take that back!”

“Too late,” said Ethan, looking up from his journal. “Next?”

Before Marlon could protest again, Brent chirped up.

“Marlon snores like a dragon and smells like a goblin!”

“Boy,” said Marlon, holding his face in his hands. “You can’t seriously think that—.”

“Done,” said Ethan happily, even smiling as he wrote the words done. “Glad you guys have a sense of humor about all this.”

“We certainly do,” said Alex. “Except for Marlon. Never made me laugh once.”

“Got it! Chase? Amelie?”

“Oh dear,” said Amelie, placing a finger on her chin. “Um, well, I should like to say something nice about Marlon…um.”

“Done,” said Ethan with a chuckle. “Chase?”

Despite the sudden levity Chase had not forgotten their circumstances. He looked as his guild, saw Marlon huffing, Thomas laughing at the old man’s reaction, Claire and Brent chuckling to themselves, Alex shaking his head despite himself. Even Amelie seemed to have found a momentary feeling of calm as she watched her guild mates joke with one another at the end of all things.

“Chase?” Said Markon, his voice gravely and stern. “Spit it out, then we can move on. Or Ethan will record that you had nothing to say and we will move on anyway.”

“This is the best guild I’ve ever had,” said Chase suddenly, the words coming out without him even having to think. “I wish we could have gone further together.”

The Banes grew quiet and solemn at that point, and Alex patted him on the back. Amelie seemed about to cry and the others were staring at the ground.

“Way to bring it all down,” said Thomas, his sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah, Chase,” said Brent, looking up to meet his leader’s eyes.

“Well done,” said Claire in agreement. “Though I would like to second what you said.”

“Here, here!” Said Marlon, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “To the best guild Esem ever saw.”

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“Enough!” Roared Markon before the guild could say another word. “Astor! Give me your sword.”

“What?” But I—,” spluttered Astor, hand on the pommel of his blade. “I thought I could be the first one to do it.”

“Just give me it,” said Markon with a sigh. He seemed beyond frustrated with the red haired man and had no more energy to correct him.

Astor begrudgingly drew his blade and handed it held first to his leader. Markon snatched it out of his hand.

“Ladies first,” growled Markon. He pointed a finger. “You, come here.”

Claire stiffened up at the sight of Markon’s grubby finger pointing at her. Everyone quieted down and there was a pregnant pause. Suddenly Claire shrugged her shoulders.

“I hope that blade is sharp,” she said, stepping forward.

“Now those are good final words,” muttered Thomas.

Markon made way for the young Fighter, but suddenly there was a cry and Claire was stopped in her tracks.

“Claire!” Cried Amelie. She had wrapped her arms around the girl and was sobbing. “You’re so brave! I’m so sorry!”

At first Claire looked as though she had stepped into a puddle, such was her look of annoyance. But then her face softened and then she unwrapped her self from Amelie’s embrace, turned around, and then held the weeping girl, gently stroking her back.

Claire said, ”I’m sorry I wasn’t better to you.”

“What do you mean?” Said Amelie. She looked up blearily eyed at Claire.

For some reason, Chase had never noticed the height difference in the two girls.

Or maybe they have just been growing, thought Chase.

“I mean,” said Claire, a look of chagrin crossing her features. “Just, look, I’m sorry I wasn’t nicer is all. Okay?”

Amelie sniffed once and then nodded her head, letting Claire go.

“Come on,” said Markon. “We haven’t got all day.”

Claire nodded and then stepped before Markon. He motioned for her to kneel. When she did, he raised his sword, but hesitated.

“Astor,” said Markon suddenly. “Get the hair off her neck. I want a clean strike.”

“Don’t see how it’ll matter,” said Astor, but quickly did as he was told. He stepped forwarded and brushed the hair from Claire’s neck until a swatch of pale skin was revealed. “Better?”

“Yeah, now bug off,” said Markon. He raised the blade once more. “Here we go. One, two, three!”

“SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEE”

A sound like a thousand squealing bats sounded from the entrance. The Followers all jumped at the noise, and even Markon stopped the execution to look around.

“What was that?” Said Markon, glancing at Ethan.

“I don’t know,” said Ethan, shaking his head. Suddenly fire appeared in both of his palms. “Leek is on lookout. Surely he could have teleported here to tell us.”

“You think she’s back?” Said Astor, looking worriedly at his leader.

“Christie?” Said Markon. He spat to the side, temporarily forgetting about Claire. “Impossible. We checked the entire area.”

“SKREE SKREE SKREE BLUG BLUG BLUG!”

Suddenly dozens of pairs of eyes appeared in the tunnel of the entrance, and the forms of countless shuffling bodies marching through formed. Chase could see the familiar bodies of the monsters they had been farming lining through the tunnel to get into the courtyard, and within seconds the first ones poured through the end of the tunnel.

“Goblins?” Said Markon, as the little monsters formed at the end of the courtyard. Their yellow eyes peered at them hungrily. Dozens were now in the courtyard and more were filing in behind them. “What are they doing here?”

“You left the door open,” said Chase.

“Won’t be an issue,” said Astor with a chuckle. He raised his finger and a beam of light appeared there. “Just say the word, Markon. I’ll annihilate them.”

“Why aren’t they attacking?” Said Ethan.

“Maybe…” Markon’s words trailed off as he rubbed his chin. “Fine. Astor, kill them.”

“With pleasure!” Said Astor. He pointed his finger at the goblins and a beam of light shot out. The laser struck one of the closest and then Astor dragged the beam to the left, neatly cutting a dozen down before the laser vanished. The goblins screamed for their fallen comrades, but still they did not attack. There were close to fifty now in the courtyard with no signs of them stopping. They beat their shields with their little swords and chanted as they watched the players.

”SKREE SKREE SKREE BLUG BLUG BLUG!”

“Um, again?” Said Astor.

“Idiot,” muttered Markon, shaking his head. “Ethan!”

Ethan began to raise his hands, an inferno as bright as the sun growing in his palms, but just then the entrance of the tunnel seemed to swell. The rocks cracked and broke and with a mighty roar a goblin larger than even Markon burst through. This one held a two handed sword that was long and rusty, and its chest was adorned with the chest piece of a knight. It’s large face bore a maw of sharp and jagged teeth and at it’s arrival the other goblins shrieked in delight and chanted for their master.

”SKREEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“It’s the goblins king!” Shouted Chase, pointing at the humungous creature.

“Wow!” Said Brent, momentarily forgetting their situation. “He’s…beautiful!”

Not the word I would have used, thought Chase.

“Astor,” said Markon, rounding on his minion. “The plans have changed. Take the Banes inside. We can’t kill them until this is over.”

“What? Let’s just kill them now!”

“There isn’t time,” said Markon. He bent over and picked up Astor’s cross bow, already loaded. “If any of them get out of line you may kill them with this. And here’s your blade back, I won’t need it.”

“But, but,” said Astor.

“Don’t argue with me, go!”

Astor didn’t argue, but instead pointed the cross bow at Chase.

“You heard him, Chase,” said Astor. “Tell your people to get inside. And you!” Astor suddenly kicked the still kneeling Claire in the side. She cried out, and fell over, clutching her ribs. “Get up!”

“You didn’t have to do that!” Said Amelie, rushing to her friend’s side.

“I said go!” Said Astor.

Suddenly Ethan shot his spell, and fire erupted from his finger tips. Dozens of goblins squealed in pain but the sound of the goblin king’s baritone laughed only intensified. Through the fire Chase could see the shadows of the goblins dance and writhe.

Chase soon found himself following his guild into the small room in the side of the courtyard with Astor at their backs. He cursed and yelled at them to hurry and soon they were all huddling in the small room, made smaller by all of them inside. When at last they all made it Astor told them to stay in the corner.

“You got lucky,” said Astor, keeping the cross bow leveled at them. “For your stay of execution you get to witness two greats out there kill some goblins.”

“It’s quite the treat,” said Marlon, nodding his head. He had found a chair and was quietly unstoppering a bottle.

“What’s that?” Said Astor, pointing his crossbow at Marlon.

“Oh, this?” Said the old man innocently. “Nothing. Just something to calm the nerves.”

“Claire, are you alright?” Amelie was saying.

“I’m fine, Amelie. Better my ribs than my head, after all.”

Astor rolled his eyes, and just then a loud explosion sounded behind him. He whirled around to see Markon surrounded by goblins whilst he and the goblin king traded blows with their long swords.

“Maybe you should help them,” suggested Chase.

“They don’t need me,” said Astor sullenly. “Besides, I got an important job to do. Can’t be letting you guys try anything funny.”

“It’s not like we can escape,” said Chase.

“How am I supposed to know that?” Said Astor, some of the old killer coming back to him. His words sounded more measured and precise suddenly. “For all I know you have a secret way outta here.”

Chase decided to let it go, but Astor seemed pleased with himself and all of a sudden placed his cross bow down, setting it against the wall. Amelie glanced at it as she comforted Claire.

“Anyone got a light?” Said Astor, drawing a pipe from his shirt.

Alex was about to speak up when Marlon raised his hand.

“Right here, sir,” said Marlon, waving a box of matches. “Come and get one.”

“Think I’m an idiot?” Said Astor. Another explosion sounded, and Chase could see goblins flying around. Ethan and Markon were back to back, and even more goblins were pouring in from the entrance. “You come to me, otherwise.”

A light appeared at the tip of his finger, and he pointed it at the Banes.

“Fine, fine,” said Marlon hurriedly. He downed the last of whatever he was drinking and got to his feet, matchbox in his trembling fingers. “Here you go.”

Chase watched as the old man walked quickly over to the red headed man, having to step over Thomas as he did so. The little boy looked at Marlon with a look of disgust.

Marlon lit a match and held it to Astor’s pipe, to which the man sucked in and the light ignited the tobacco. After a couple puffs Astor waved away Marlon and the light disappeared from his finger tip. Astor exhaled with pleasure, taking the pipe away from his mouth as a large amount of smoke rolled from his mouth into the little room.

“Disgusting,” said Thomas, waving a hand in front of his face. “This room is too small for you to be doing that here.”

“Shut up,” said Astor pleasantly. He reached for his crossbow. “Hang on…”

“Looking for this?” Said Amelie.

Amelie fired the cross bow.

“HUH?!” Astor doubled over as the bolt plunged in his chest, right into his heart. His body doubled over onto the ground before the Banes.

“That was for Claire,” said Amelie darkly, a finality in her voice. “Never kick a girl when she is down.”