“Come on… Come on!” Vin stared at the blackness all around him, unfeeling. It was always scary, not knowing what was happening beyond the reach of his senses. Darkness evoked a primal fear he wished so desperately to avoid. No matter how brave a man was, he’d paint in the darkness what he feared the most.
He breathed in deeply and calmed himself. He couldn’t afford to lose again, or he’d be a laughing stock. The system had to wake him up soon. Even if his head had taken a blow, how much longer would it--
[Character waking.]
Vin woke to the sound of screams, sprawled next to the dead and the dying. He spent a moment there, staring into Toshimir’s eyes. Hollow and still they were, like the ocean of a windless night. A scream sounded over him as a soldier toppled over, dead. That jolted him into motion. His shield was strapped to his arm, but his hammer was gone. He removed a sword from a dead soldier’s scabbard. The man hadn’t even gotten to use it, nor would he ever get the chance without a head on his shoulders.
An armoured figure formed out of the darkness, swinging a blur at the half-knelt Vin. Vin ducked and rolled, his back crushing against a pile of bodies. He scrambled to his feet and raised his shield, glancing at his Health bar. It was at 32%. The fact that he still lived was a miracle. And Vin wasn’t one to waste a good miracle.
He found the first soldier clad in dark armor and unleashed himself upon the man. With a slash of the borrowed sword, he cut through padded armor, and with the next, he cut flesh in twain. Someone struck an axe on his back from behind, dropping his Health slightly. The armor had taken the brunt of the blow. There wasn’t much pain, just the familiar pressure of being hit.
The time for strategy and contemplation was over. They were all playing the enemy’s game now. A game Vin was determined to win. Alone, if he had to. He turned sharply, stabbing forward with his sword. He missed, and the axe moved for his head. He parried with the shield and used ‘Headbutt,’ dropping the enemy to her knees. Her face must have been pretty before he turned it into this mess of blood and flesh with his helmet. The sword descended, finding the gap in her plate mail. Vin twisted. The woman died.
He scanned the battlefield for any light, any information from what he could make out, but there was none. The darkness hid all but his nearest neighbours, players clashing against one another in a flurry of metal and blood. One downed his opponent and turned to Vin. They exchanged glances and the man rushed over, bringing with him rage and a giant flail in full swing. A most deadly combination.
Vin raised his shield once the distance shortened. The spikes of the flail screeched as they scraped against the metal.
[Malendan Shield’s durability reduced by 51.]
Vin felt his hand go numb and he almost dropped the shield. Twilight had no bar for stamina. It was up to the players to hold on for as long as they could through simulated weariness. Vin was reaching his limits, and it was starting to show. He had to act fast.
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“Spear of Justice!” He screamed and moved the shield aside, revealing his body. The opposing player stared at him all wide-eyed before moving his own shield to cover his chest.
Vin delivered a timely kick to his genitals instead, and the man bent in two. An iron-clad foot driven accurately into the groin would give pause to even the sturdiest foe. For once, Vin was glad the system was designed to be hyper-realistic. He made short work of the stunned foe and laid back for a breather.
The pleasure of rest turned out short lived. A sickening crunch came from beneath, and he felt something grasp his leg and a chill spreading up his body.
[Affected by Death’s Weakness. Dexterity reduced by 5 for 5 seconds. Stacks: 1]
Necromancer, Vin thought. Deadly this late in a battle. He looked down at the man he had just killed. Only brittle bones remained, his eye sockets incandescent under greenish blue flames. Vin shattered the hand reaching for him. His leg was cold still, and limp. Five seconds might not seem a lot, but on the battlefield they lasted an eternity. A part of the ground nearby smoldered from a stray fireball and Vin stumbled over with faltering, uneven steps. The corpses had burned here. No raising them.
The dead came on through the darkness instead, pairs of blue wisps rising from the ground. A dozen of them formed a circle with Vin trapped within, alone. As they neared, their coldness alone turned painful and seeped into his skin. He breathed in deep and let out white mist. The first of the dead came slowly, no weapon in hand. Vin crushed it with his shield.
Yet they just kept coming. More and more, out of the dark, endless. He fell to the fight and time left him, until only the shattering of bones and the arc of his sword held meaning. Every time he cut into bone the cold bit a little deeper into his body. His sword got caught in the ribs of a skeleton he’d swung at. There wasn’t enough force behind his blow. He tried to dislodge its frozen length and it shattered.
He kicked the skeleton away, cracking its breastbones. The coldness spread up his leg and he limped back, away from the skeletons. I’m not dying here. He kept running the thought through his head, but it held less power each time. I’m not dying here. His health had been dropping steadily as the cold sapped his strength.
A bony hand found the back of his head and Vin spun, slamming it away with the shield. It felt so heavy, like lead. He dropped it. It clanged to the ground as more skeletons rose all around him, flames of hatred burning in their eyes.
Vin let his head hang back, frost on his plate and blue on his lips. He panted and watched as his frigid breath curled up into the air, before getting swallowed by the darkness. His hands fell limp at his sides and the edge of his lips curled into a smile.
“I’m not dying here.”