Rotgoriel had dug himself well into a hole, and was in no hurry to dig himself out of it. After all, it was warm and dark and comfortable down in the stone below the mountains, a welcome respite from the endless wind and chill that blew from the wastes of the east.
But to all good things there must come an end, and this end came in the form of a whisper in his ears. A Party Whisper, to be precise.
Agnezsharron: I see them.
Antonic: Do any have wings?
Agnezsharron: No. But there are at least four players.
Rotgoriel closed his eyes. Four players complicated things. He shaped his lips into the words that he wished to whisper.
Rotgoriel: You are certain?
Agnezsharron: According to Fleetfoot, one is level thirty-one and another level forty. The other two have names that read Tw0tw4ffle and Urmawm. I think there is no way they could be anything but players.
Rotgoriel: Four players, then. What else?
Agnezsharron: About a dozen camels. A driver for each. Guards. None have levels above twenty, Fleetfoot says.
Ramuz: That sounds like a typical Milk Road caravan. Except for the players.
Rotgoriel: What guild are they?
Agnezsharron: Fleetfoot says the players have no guild showing.
Rotgoriel: So they are either mercenaries, outcasts, or concealing their status.
Blackbinder: If they're concealing their status, you know what that means.
Rotgoriel did. He had that skill himself. And that decided him.
Rotgoriel: This has to be our target, then. LongTom? WorldwarpR? Are you ready?
LongTom: I'm staying low in case they've got any Scouts who can match Fleetfoot. But I can be in position inside of a minute.
WorldwarpR: I've got the easy job. But yeah, I'm ready.
Rotgoriel: Then you we strike as planned. Agnezsharron, take the thirty-one. I'll handle the forty. After we handle them we tackle the other two, and help Antonic with whatever's left of the guards.
LongTom: I could probably help with the players. Got my switch turned on.
Rotgoriel: No. We need you taking down any who flee. Though if they are players, you can take the shot.
It was unusual for high-leveled players to flee. No matter how bad the odds, they would fight until death, given the opportunity. After all, they had little to lose.
So if any did flee here, it was a good indicator that they would be bearing the object of his desire...
The thought comforted him. This had to be the right caravan!
Rotgoriel: You have the call, Agnezsharron.
Agnezsharron: I shall return Fleetfoot to safety first. That should give them time to get to your burrow.
Rotgoriel nodded, remembered they couldn't see him nod, then decided it wasn't worth replying.
Instead he muttered “Burrower,” and shifted until his claws were in a good position.
Time passed. Minutes? Seconds? He had no way to tell, there in that timeless heart of stone. A lesser creature would have fidgeted, would have felt nervous. But he was a creature of will and wisdom. Waiting was hard but Rotgoriel was harder.
Agnezsharron: Now!
His claws were in motion before she could finish the word, ripping into the ceiling above him as Rotgoriel cored it out at an angle, using his hind legs and tail to shove himself up into the cleared space. He could feel the nictating membranes snap down over his eyes, protecting them from dust and gravel as he went.
He'd gotten Burrower when he hit level twenty as a Young Stone Dragon, and used it sparingly during combat operations. He was relatively confident that his foes wouldn't know this trick yet.
It was a gamble. They had plenty of Earth Elementalists in their ranks. If one of them was up there, if one figured out what he was doing, then he could be neutralized, if not killed.
But if they did, then they didn't see him. And suddenly there was nothing under his claws save air, and he pushed his arms to either side, hauling himself from the broken ground with a roar, watching camels bolt and scatter with satisfaction as the drivers fought to regain control.
Shouts, screams, chaos. Half the guards were backing away, dropping their spears. The other half were trying to form up, rallying around a bellowing portly man with a big hat. A captain, most likely. Rotgoriel ignored them, not taking the time to read their names or check their levels. Searching until...
...there.
Four figures who weren't running or panicking. Four figures who were casting buffs, drawing weapons, and shouting with excitement, rather than fear.
They are near enough, Rotgoriel decided. Then he spoke a single word.
“Sandblast!”
The word turned into a roar, and he felt the grains build and grow within his throat, before a sandstorm burst forth, filling the air with the equivalent of ground glass hurtling eastward at about a hundred miles an hour.
Then, without waiting to see what had happened, he ducked back below the earth, pulling the edges of the hole in after him.
Rotgoriel had been fighting in the war for almost a year now. He was a dragon, young but growing, an apex predator that few other naturally-occurring things in the world could stand against.
But there was nothing natural about players. They could bring powers, equipment, and forces to bear that would be hazardous to stand against for any amount of time.
I should know, Rotgoriel thought as he withdrew down his burrow, then began tunneling east. Half the time I am one.
He was rewarded with the sound of spells and skills and attacks firing off behind him. A few seconds of delay would have wounded him.
There was no doubt in his heart that he had killed the guards caught in the blast. That the camels and drivers unfortunate enough to be in the cone had been stripped of flesh by the onslaught of glass. That the ground itself was scored and scoured, stone blasted away by the sheer force of his onslaught.
And yet, for all of that, he figured that none of the players were dead.
These were members of the Bharstool Warmers, the most powerful guild on the continent. The first guild that could properly be called by that name. He had died before, when he underestimated them.
And they had a level forty along for this mission. Gods only knew what that one could bring to bear against him.
It's time to find out, though. Almost...
There under the ground, he waited, and seconds stretched. The players were yelling back and forth now, hunting for him. He could hear that faintly through the broken tunnel he'd left behind.
Then he heard another sound.
A beautiful, fierce roar. A female dragon's battle cry. And a single word, only legible to those who could speak the tongue of dragons.
“Burninate!”
The stone grew hot above Rotgoriel, and he burrowed faster, knowing exactly what had happened.
The obsidian sand he'd blasted them with had cleared, enough that it provided no obscurement to those within.
And once she could see them clearly, Agnezsharron had dropped like a rock out of the cloudy sky, and bathed anyone still standing with fire.
If it worked like it had the last four times they'd practiced this trick, it would also turn the sand he'd just scattered all over the battlefield into molten glass. Which was a pretty nice bonus.
It was also just the opening act.
Though it pained him, he waited.
Agnezsharron: Clear!
And once more, he burst upward on her signal.
He hadn't gone quiet far enough, and the molten glass scoured his scales as he broke the surface.
You have taken 42 HP damage from lava!
Not much, as it went. Dragons were naturally fire resistant, and he had HP aplenty to spare. He ground his teeth against the pain, and looked around for his foes.
Three of them were easy to spot.
An eight-foot-tall man covered head to toe in glowing armor knelt, shield over his head and glowing red from the heat. His shoulder pauldrons stuck out three feet in each direction, ludicrously spiked and looking to weigh as much as his breastplate. He was drawing forth a long length of chain with his other hand, and the name above him read 'Tw0tw4ffle' He was a Champion 25, going by his subtitle, but the fact he was still alive meant that he probably had several other jobs around that level.
On the other side of the burrowed hole, surrounded by a globe of energy, a woman whose hair was living fire waded through the molten glass, cursing and kicking it away. She dug at her eyes while she moved. Blinded by the sand? He hoped so. The fire certainly hadn't touched her at all. She wore jeweled robes, that looked ripped and torn from his assault, but entirely unburnt. Her name was 'Charmandy', and her highest job level declared her to be a level 31 Cindermancer.
And hovering slightly above it all, borne aloft by angelic wings, his torn and charred golden skin healing itself as Rotgoriel watched, flew a lightly-armored figure wielding a blazing sword in one hand, and a golden shield in the other. This was 'Austin316,' and his visible job was Crusader. Forty levels worth of Crusader.
This is my target, Rotgoriel knew, and pulled himself out of the burrow. But there were only three, so he did the responsible thing first.
Rotgoriel: I cannot see Urmawm. I think she went down.
Longtom: Funny, I heard that about your mom, too.
Rotgoriel: What?
Agnezsharron: Focus! Blackbinder, keep the warrior busy, and look for Urmawm. If they follow the usual guild tactics, Urmawm is probably a rogue of some sort. Be ready for a backstab!
Rotgoriel took to the air, just as Tw0tw4ffle found his voice.
“Grand Challenge!”
The dragon grimaced... but relaxed, as words flashed before his eyes.
You resisted Tw0tw4ffle's Grand Challenge!
You're up against the willpower of a dragon, fool.
But not everbody was so lucky.
Blackbinder: Fuck! Guess I'm on the warrior regardless. Here I go!
Antonic: I am taken as well. I shall guard Blackbinder's back.
Rotgoriel had come up against Grand Challenge many times before, over these last few months. The Bharstool Warmers made their top warriors take the Champion job, which was all about forcing their enemies to attack the people they chose. The Grand Challenge meant that Blackbinder and Antonic couldn't use their offensive skills against other enemies until Tw0tw4ffle was down.
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Which meant that Antonic couldn't handle the rest of the guards, as planned. But Rotgoriel had other worries right now, and no easy solution. He'd have to take down his target as fast as possible so he could help with the mop up.
A flash of green in the corner of his eye as Agnezsharron, great and emerald-scaled and lithe, fell towards Charmandy with murder in mind. Then he had no more time, for he was upon Austin316, who was just beginning to become aware of his danger.
“Chomp!” Rotgoriel roared, and aimed for the head.
“Lightstream!” Austin316 screamed, and Rotgoriel's teeth slammed together on glowing air, as the player turned into golden light and flickered a hundred feet back, before starting to reassemble itself into the player.
It was a poor choice of destination, and Rotgoriel merely sped up... but flew through the player's form before it was solid.
There was a second where he couldn't see the man, and Rotgoriel twisted in midair, settled into a loop, letting the momentum pull his neck back to reacquire his target. He got eyes on the winged warrior again, but not before the player had a chance to rattle off a few more skills.
“Shield of Faith! Divine Conduit! Angel's Grace! Preserving Shield of Light!”
Rotgoriel twisted in midair, got himself upright again, and beat his wings, slowing his charge.
“Blazing Sword!” the glowing figure roared, now enveloped in a column of light that stretched from ground to sky, filling him with divine might and power. His sword snapped out to three times its normal length, glowing even brighter than the rest of the light around him, somehow.
It was all very impressive.
“Dispel Magic,” Rotgoriel told him.
Every bit of light on Austin316 snapped out, and he plummeted downward with a despairing wail.
Rotgoriel followed him down. He thought he had this one's measure now, and it was nothing that velocity couldn't handle.
With a red '84' floating up from him, Austin316 stood up from the ground, and stared up at the growing bulk of the dragon on high. “Lightstr—”
Rotgoriel felt his bones bend at the impact, as his entire bulk slammed into the ground.
Slamming also into Austin316, who happened to be between it and him.
You have taken 220 points of falling damage!
You have killed Austin316! PVP switch reset to 23:59!
I got lucky there, Rotgoriel realized as he rose, and felt the wet mass of Austin316's remains fall away from his belly. He panicked. If he'd been just a second faster, that wouldn't have worked.
Seconds were precious, fighting foes of this caliber. He wasted none of them, scanning around for the next target...
“FUEGO GRANDE!”
The air turned to fire.
Rotgoriel twisted, turned his head, put the bulk of his body between himself and the new star that had blossomed in the middle of this stony land.
Well, he thought to himself, as he felt his scales scorch, felt the burn even through his fire resistance, at least the remaining guards won't be a problem.
Blackbinder: Shit! That was close!
Agnezsharron: Ow.
Antonic: I need healing!
Longtom: So, uh, my number of targets just went way down. Permission to take down the mage?
Agnezsharron: No! Stay on Urmawm!
Longtom: That's not my kink, but okay...
“FUEGO GRANDE!”
Rotgoriel dove for the hole he'd made, managed to get down it before the explosion hit.
Mostly.
With a growl, he felt heat on his hindquarters, heat that flashed right by pain, and went to full-on numbness.
You have gained the Crippled Tail condition!
There was no pain because his tail had been properly cooked. The nerves were dead.
With a sigh, Rotgoriel knew that he'd have to tend to this. And that it was time to change up strategy, before they took unnecessary losses.
Rotgoriel: Shifting to support.
Blackbinder: I'll stay on the warrior. Those big blasts burned away my shadowstuff, but I can make more.
Rotgoriel nodded, and started calling upon his god. “Remove condition.”
You are no longer afflicted by Crippled Tail!”
“Party Heal.”
You have healed Blackbinder for 12 HP!
You have healed yourself for 12 HP!
Your Party Heal skill is now level 25!
That trick healed every ally within a hundred feet of him. The amount healed was pathetic, but it told him that the rest of the group was spread out pretty well. Which was good, once he had healed a few hundred more for himself, he could get back out of the hole and—
“Backstab!”
A weight on his skull.
A pain in his eye.
A darkness that consumed half of his field of vision.
And a resounding roar, as Rotgoriel thrashed, throwing the Rogue back and off of him, as the words that bound the world together told him what he already knew.
Urmawm has afflicted you with the Lost Eye condition!
“Burninate!” Rotgoriel roared, blasting himself with his own breath, feeling his scales warm and crack...
...and hearing the errant player scream and scramble away, out of the hole.
Rotgoriel had taken some damage from that, true. But he hadn't used his full force, had gone for effect, rather than severity. It was nothing his fire resistance couldn't handle, and it was worth it to get the stabby rogue type away from him. Letting the flames die he whispered “Remove Condition,” and blinked as his full sight returned.
Wasting no time, he poked his head above the hole, catching sight of a red '151' floating upward. The effects of the blast, he knew. But whether it was his damage or the player's, he couldn't say.
He saw chaos.
Most of the battlefield was a charred, seething mass of glass and melted rock, with humanoid figures scrambling and leaping between solid chunks of stone that rose above the seared ground. The tunnels he had made had collapsed, channeling the thin wash of lava down between them.
Blackbinder flashed by, a mass of shadows in tattered black robes, eyes glowing in his own darkness, and the few patches of revealed skin tinted red by the fiery glow. He leaped and skipped with agility, and Rotgoriel muttered “Greater Healing,” as he went by.
You have healed Blackbinder for 531 HP!
He tossed one at himself for good measure, and sighed as his aches and pains eased a bit. That skill was a bit expensive, but well worth it.
Tw0tw4ffle hove into view, leaping heavily after Blackbinder as the Shadowcaster fled. The armored form paused as it caught sight of Rotgoriel, glancing between the caster he was pursuing and the dragon.
Struck by a sudden flight of whimsy, Rotgoriel pushed a hand up out of the hole and beckoned him closer.
That decided Tw0tw4ffle. He took a few steps back, then tried a running jump to the pillar nearest Rotgoriel.
“Curse your agility two hundred,” Rotgoriel told him just before his feet left the ledge.
He didn't stick around to watch the results, but judging by the yelling and splashing and sizzling, Tw0tw4ffle wasn't having a fun time of it.
Blackbinder: Thanks boss! Can you leave the curse on him? I can take it from here if so.
Rotgoriel: Yes, but Urmawm is around. Watch your ass.
Blackbinder: Urmawm DOES love my ass...
An explosion shook the world around Rotgoriel.
A wash of heat against his freshly-healed tail made him grit his teeth and burrow faster, slipping east and into fresh stone.
Agnezsharron: I need healing!
That woke him up. If Agnezsharron was asking for healing, the situation was dire indeed.
The problem before him, however, was that he had no clue where she might be in relation to his tunnel. He needed eyes on her to heal her.
No, that wasn't quite true.
Rotgoriel: Can you Camouflage up and go to ground? Someplace outside of the lava field, east of it perhaps?
Agnezsharron: If we take pressure off of them they'll regroup.
Rotgoriel: If you die here we lose the war.
That wasn't strictly true. But he did not want to lose her. And it was true that things would get far, far more complicated and troublesome without her around.
Agnezsharron: Fine. I will trust your judgment. Do not let me down.
Rotgoriel breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he shut up and listened.
Listened for the vibrations in the stone, to the east.
Nothing.
Nothing.
There!
He tunneled toward the sound, trusting his perception. It was one of his best attributes, and he was certain it had served him well here.
Rotgoriel: Breaching. Be ready to drop stealth when you see me, and fly as soon as you are healed.
Blackbinder: I almost got the warrior dead, but I had to withdraw. Urmawm's no joke!
Rotgoriel burst through the soil, staring around. No sight of that familiar green hide, no sight of the telltale shimmer that was her Camouflage skill.
The roiling mass of heat waves and smoke pouring out from the battlefield didn't help much.
“Here, damn your horns, here!” Agnezsharron hissed from behind him.
But movement caught Rotgoriel's attention, movement at the edge of the smoke. A fiery globe, pushing through the greasy cloud. An angry woman inside, her face coated with shining metal.
Charmandy yet lived. And she was pissed.
Why the metal? Rotgoriel wondered.
She pointed at him, pulling a potion from her belt and raising it to her lips—
BLAM!
The potion shattered and her head snapped back, as molten metal sprayed her face. A red '24' rose up to the sky, and her howl of rage drowned out the hissing and bubbling of the lava.
Longtom: I keep headshotting her and it doesn't do much!
Lead, Rotgoriel realized. The fire shield around her was turning his bullets to molten lead.
Quickly he snapped his head around, saw Agnez crouched low behind him, and tossed her three greater healings. She nodded her thanks and took to the skies again, barely avoiding a ray of pure heat that licked past her as she flew.
He hadn't expected the mage to be the hardest target here.
But one thing caught his attention. Charmandy was walking out of the smoke, not flying.
Maybe he could take her out of the picture, or set her up for one of the others.
Rotgoriel: Draw her fire. Keep her where she is.
Agnezsharron: You are asking for a lot of trust, today.
Rotgoriel: I die if this fails. Or maybe even if this works. Honor my sacrifice.
Agnezsharron: We'll have a moment of silence back at your resurrection point.
Rotgoriel grinned to himself and flowed down his tunnel, marking the distance as he went.
And when he thought he was under Charmandy he burrowed up, to be rewarded with a yell, and a flash of heat as she dropped onto his chest, fire shield scorching his scales, letting him know that even if he was resistant, she was still a danger.
A danger that he knew how to handle.
Shifting, he let her fall further down into the tunnel, yelling and clutching at the sides, trying to break her fall.
Then he clambered up and out, throwing down rocks and rubble as he went, collapsing the tunnel he'd made and shoveling more down upon her once he got to the surface.
Bursts of flame and focused heat scorched their way from the pit, but he was out by that point, hind legs digging deep into the rock as he filled the hole in behind him.
She was a fire elementalist of some sort.
Fire required air to burn.
Stone was heavier than air.
And gravity was inescapable.
“Backstab!”
Rotgoriel's head was in motion the second Urmawm started talking, and that saved his eye this time. The dagger dug into his temple instead.
“Got you! Shadow Grudge!”
Rotgoriel turned his head back in time to see Urmawm clearly for the first time, as the player screamed.
He was black-clad too, with a gray cape and three or four bandoliers of knives. Beyond that, Rotgoriel couldn't see many more details, since Urmawm's own shadow was crawling up his body, surrounding and strangling him.
Blackbinder, grinning, put his hands on his hips. “Twoty's Grand Challenge finally wore off.”
Rotgoriel shrugged and swatted the writhing form with one hand. Blood sprayed, bones snapped, and the man lay still, only his own shadow moving and writhing as it mindlessly mauled the player's corpse.
You have slain Urmawm! PVP switch reset to 23:59!
“Good job pounding Urmawm,” Blackbinder snickered.
“No!” came the shout from the edge of the smoke as the battered, charred, and angry warrior stomped out to see the carnage. “Grand Challenge!”
You have been affected by Tw0tw4ffle's Grand Challenge!
Rotgoriel turned to look at him.
“You picked a very, very pointless time to score a critical success,” he rumbled.
Beside him the ground shook as Agnezsharron landed.
To the side of him, Blackbbinder drew himself up, sneering.
In the distance, he caught the sound of Long Tom pulling his rifle's hammer back.
“Shit,” muttered Tw0tw4ffle.
Two very violent minutes later, Agnez was enjoying shucking the player's corpse from his much-abused armor, and Rotgoriel and Blackbinder were digging through the remnants of the caravan.
“Did we destroy it?” Blackbinder wondered, as he dragged another harness free of a camel's corpse. “Whole lot of fire going on.”
“If it is what we seek, then that was not sufficient to destroy it,” Rotgoriel responded, digging among the cooling glass. Something smelled of magic, and his nostrils flared, poking through a charred mass of leather until his fingers brushed something unusually cool for the surroundings.
“Here!” he said, coming up with hoop of gold, inlaid with fine engravings, showing an aproned man wielding a heavy knife, with a feasting table before him. Though the table groaned under the bounty of fine dishes and foodstuffs, the man's face glowered, full of sullen wrath. “This must be it.”
“Are you sure?” Agnezsharron asked, coming in for a closer look.
“Ramuz can verify it,” Rotgoriel decided. “But just to be sure... Status.”
Name: Rutger Royal
Age: 3
Jobs:
Cleric (Konol) 25, Cultist (Anjuuta) 25, Young Dragon (Stone) 22
Attributes Pools Defenses
Strength: 700 Constitution: 770 Hit Points: 1470 Armor: 490
Intelligence: 134 Wisdom: 513 Sanity: 647 Mental Fortitude: 515
Dexterity: 36 Agility: 76 Stamina: 112 Endurance: 325
Charisma: 115 Willpower: 701 Moxie: 816 Cool: 190
Perception: 306 Luck: 183 Fortune: 489 Fate: 75
General Skills
Brawling – Level 23
Climb – Level 4
Dodge – Level 15
Fly – Level 27
Ride – Level 1
Stealth – Level 5
Swim – Level 2
Stone Dragon Skills
Burninate – Level 22
Burrower – Level 19
Chomp – Level 20
Draconic Tongue – Level N/A
Dragonseye – Level 20
Earth Resistance – Level N/A
Flameborn – Level N/A
Healing Hoard – Level N/A
Hoarder – Level 2
Limited Equipment – Level N/A
No Thumbs – Level N/A
Sandblast – Level 5
Scaly Wings – Level N/A
Slow to Age – Level N/A
Tail Slap – Level 5
Cleric Skills
Back You Fiend – Level N/A
Blessing – Level N/A
Curative – Level N/A
Dispel Magic – Level 17
Divine Conduit – Level 18
Divine Destiny – Level 11
Divine Transit – Level N/A
Faith – Level N/A
Godspell:
Greater Healing – Level 18
Holy Bolt – Level 16
Holy Smite – Level 33
Lesser Healing – Level 76
Party Heal – Level 25
Pray to Konol – Level N/A
Remove Condition – Level N/A
Shield of Divinity – Level 37
Cultist Skills
Conceal Status – Level 51
Curses – Level 43
Dark Augury – Level 15
Dark Bolt – Level 19
Dark Chant – Level 45
Darkspell: Fool's Gold – Level 49
Enhance Pain – Level 44
Fevered Zeal – Level 7
First Pact – Level 20
Heart of Darkness – Level N/A
Occult Experimentation – Level 1
Occult Eye – Level N/A
Second Pact – Level 15
Servant of Darkness – Level N/A
Transfer Wounds – Level 47
Unhinged Mind – Level N/A
Unholy Smite – Level 24
Unlocked Jobs
Berserker, Conjuror, Earth Elementalist, Fire Elementalist, Godbinder, Grifter, Knight
Gear:
Mirror of Planar Contact, 293,021 GP worth of assorted coinage, 24910 GP worth of assorted gems, and three dragonslaying swords, and the Crown of Ram-Se
Smiling as much as his lips allowed, Rotgoriel growled in satisfaction. “We've done it. Come, let us leave this place. My brother will be elated to hear the news!”