The Dark Paladin parried the attack of a spearman with his armored forearm and then charged towards his opponent. The spearman let his spear slide back in his hand to shorten the range, but was not fast enough. A backhanded blow with the sword hit him right on the unprotected neck and slit his throat. Blood sprayed out in an arc, but then curved away and disappeared into the glowing red blade. The spirit of the blade had now collected enough blood to awaken. Its voice sounded faint in OrcSlayer's mind:
The paladin held the blade across in front of him and looked down at it in astonishment: "Why do you have a French accent? There are no French-inspired countries here."
"The French-speaking country that these players from Paris wanted to build? I laid that to waste myself back then. Snobby Frenchmen everywhere in the game? Not on my watch! Fortunately, I was allowed to command a large unit of the Allied army. On the way to the final battle against the necromancers, I simply made a small detour of two days. It's a good thing we tested the big battlefield spells and war machines there beforehand. We still had real problems with the timing of the spells and the aiming of the catapults. There was also a morale bonus for allowing the mercenaries to really let off steam beforehand."
The sword fell silent and light flashed up and down the blade. However, he no longer noticed as he swung it to the side to parry a short sword. Two undead shuffled up behind him. So, he simply stepped aside and cleared the way for them to face a more worthy opponent. The druid Esche, with whom he had recently feigned negotiations while his allies got into position. The druid was currently throwing seeds at a zombie, causing vines to grow all over it, digging their roots deep into the undead flesh. OrcSlayer raised his hand with the ring he had received from Umbramar and ordered three skeletons to take care of the hero, who obviously thought himself Esches bodyguard. The low-level undead were unable to defeat the player, but were able to push him away. Now the way was clear for OrcSlayer. He charged forward right behind the cultist, who was about to pounce on the druid. He ran past his ally on the left as the druid tried to fend off two short swords at once with his staff. He was too busy to even see OrcSlayer coming. His talking sword shook strangely in his hand for a moment as he swung it, then it seemed to sniff:
Critical hit. Double damage.
Spine severed. Opponent paralyzed.
Skill increased: Swordfighting to Journeyman III
...
He pushed the messages to one side. XP and skill increases were of little interest to him right now. He pushed his opponent back a little and lifted him slightly, then let him fall back to his feet. When he tried to pull his blade back to decapitate his opponent, however, the whole body came towards him. The blade was stuck. OrcSlayer could hear a slurping sound and the druid's skin grew paler with each heartbeat. "Stop snacking, there's no time for that now."
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He kicked the chest and lifted his opponent off his sword with his foot. The druid fell backwards and lay there like a sack. Blood gushed from the chest wound and began to boil. OrcSlayer paid no attention to the strange phenomenon, however, as he saw a familiar face in the turmoil behind the druid. The shepherd boy who had shot him in the back with his crossbow. The guy had cost him a whole level and a day of game time! He swung his sword threateningly back and forth to scare other fighters out of the way and set off with a grin.
The sword's voice sounded extremely self-satisfied. OrcSlayer immediately looked around in alarm. At first he couldn't see anything special, then he noticed movement on the ground. Blood-red thorny vines were sprouting from the druid's blood. Before he could even raise the alarm, the tendrils exploded into the air. Both friend and foe were enveloped. The thicket of thorns grew purposefully towards the entrance, where it completely blocked any further influx of reinforcements. Cries of pain could be heard from the undergrowth everywhere, where the thorns dug into living flesh and sucked blood to feed the growth of the hedge. Roots dug into the undead and used them as fertilizer. Only the skeletons remained unharmed, but they were densely spun around. OrcSlayer immediately began to grumble loudly to himself: "Great. A druidic blood-magic revenge ritual. The stoner must have leveled up in battle and taken that stupid special skill. I already had to experience the blood hedge spell a few times with my last character. I hate those stag cuddlers. If I catch him, I'll kill him all over again."
The shepherd was completely forgotten as he shouted commands to bring the situation back under control: "Everyone in the hedge, don't move! The vines will only grab you tighter if you fight back! You can't get out on your own. You there, chop the vines off the prisoners. The undead forward, watch our backs! If anyone has a spell against plants, now would be the time."
Of course, he didn't have a ravager druid with him if he needed one for once. He planned to recruit one at the next opportunity. When it came to fighting tree huggers and forest creepers, there was hardly anything better.
A hot pain stabbed into his shoulder. When he reached for it reflexively, he found the shaft of an arrow. "Someone please take out those damned archers!"
While his mages were distracted, someone once again shrouded part of the battlefield in darkness. This time he did not complain, as he was now no longer visible to the archers.
As the most heavily equipped fighter on the entire battlefield, it would actually have been his job to draw the attacks to himself. With his previous character, he had always acted as a tank and focused on taunting, attracting enemies and aggro management skills. With the new upgrade, the combat system had become more realistic, meaning that many of these skills only worked to a limited extent. Especially in PVP. Besides, he just didn't enjoy it anymore. This time he sent other players forward as meat shields and cannon fodder.
The shepherd boy emerged from the darkness on the other side of the brambles. Stooping, he rushed to a hairy ranger with jackal ears stuck in the blood thorns. He drew a dagger and then hesitated.
OrcSlayer looked around, but didn't notice any good targets for an attack at the moment. When he looked back, the shepherd boy was just pulling the dagger out of the ranger and retreating into the darkness. The ranger dissolved into a shower of sparks. A sword and a few coins fell to the ground unnoticed.
OrcSlayer shrugged his shoulders. If his opponents assassinated each other, he would not complain. He dodged an arrow and dropped to his knees behind an ally caught in the thorns. Using Hedge and the assassin's body as cover, he began to hack away at the thorns.
"I don't care." He ignored the protests and continued to slash at the vines. After the third blow, the sword began to vibrate in his hand, affecting his cutting action. He tightened his grip and ignored that too. He carefully thrust between the thorny vines and the prisoner's arm and sawed through the last one. Then he pulled him out.