3 months
In the following weeks after the second raid from Dieva in humanoid form, the mercs had to grapple with the new wrinkle in their reality. Among the dozen or so that remained, many were full of remorse and regret over what they’d been forced to do to survive. Several were simply numb at this point, just as quick to cut down a friend or foe if it meant surviving another day. Daniel couldn’t abide that.
“Listen up folks, can we gather round please?” He cried out one evening after the day’s hunting party returned. Stood in the center of camp, leaning on his spear, Daniel was easy enough for everyone to spot, and they quickly dropped what they were doing to see what the commotion was about.
In the nearly half a year they’d been trapped in this jungle, their make-shift camp of recovered tents and wagons had slowly grown into a small village. The immense stats the mercenaries commanded made up for any lack of applicable skills. Trees could be felled and stacked high in a day, dried, and ready to build a cabin within a week. Judging by the clear difference in quality among some of the buildings though, at least one or two of the mercs had taken a construction skill. If they didn’t have it already.
Daniel looked out over their faces when his comrades finally stood in a pitiful semicircle around him. Pale shadows of the men they once were, and a drop in the bucket of their original company. His heart stung for a moment as he remembered the fallen.
“We haven’t talked about what happened, and we still need to decide what we’re going to do moving forward. We can’t let something like that happen again.” He ground out, his voice low and gruff in his throat.
The first man to speak up against daniel was a dwarven heavy fighter, Gordon. Gordon stepped forward, battered shield across his back and blood-stained mace at his side.
“So what would you have had us do then, Danny boy? Would you rather us just stand there and let the dragon kill all of us in one swoop?” Eliciting murmurs of agreement from a few of the surrounding fighters.
Daniel sighed, and turned to address the man. “No Gordon, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think it’d be better to die fighting back against the beast than to wind up killing each other to scratch out a few more days.”
As Daniel explained himself to the group, a lizardkin woman stepped in to voice her agreement, her name was Akke and she specialized in a pair of twin swords. “Gordon’s reasoning is sound, but none were prepared for the choice today. Next time we will be. Better to die with dignity than to live as cattle.” Her sign of support seemed to encourage a few others as well, as multiple voices called out their assent to Daniel’s ideas.
“Fuck that!” Gordon interjected, cutting the murmurs to a sudden silence. “I don’t plan on dying here. I have a life to get back to, I’ve spent too damn long in this cursed jungle already. I’ll do whatever it takes to make my way home.” The dwarven man started to ramble.
“We stand a better chance together, aye, but that brawl was the best heap of XP I’ve gotten in a week, We’d have just as much chance killing the dragon if we all lined up neatly like and let one man take the levels. You know it. I know it. The only reason this whole charade hasn’t collapsed into a free for all is that warrior types like to sell themselves on lies of honor.” Gordon spat on the ground for emphasis.
“Fuck. That. The dead don’t need honor and neither do I.”
“Gordon-” Daniel tried to interject and calm the man down.
“Fuck you Danny. You’re the only one that didn’t have to fight for their life that day and you think you can preach to me?” As the emotions ran hotter, Gordon was quickly losing the consensus of even the few that initially agreed with him. With a huff, the dwarf turned away from the group and began gathering supplies into his pack, knocking over more than a few tools by the fire as he stormed past. “I’ll make it on my own if I have to, but I won’t be talked down to by a child!” He shouted.
Daniel grit his teeth and hopped down from the rock he perched on. Leaning on his spear, he steadied his resolve and moved to stand between the food stores and the irate soldier. “Gordon. I can’t let you just walk out with supplies everyone fought and died for. If you want to leave go, but don’t think I’ll let you get away with theft.” Daniel growled, his own emotions boiling further and further under the constant disrespect of the brusk senior.
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Without so much as a word of acknowledgment, Gordon railed back and punched Daniel in the stomach. The full force of his combat classes and stats did more than a little damage and sent Daniel tumbling backward. “Get out of the fuckin way. Danny boy.”
“No.” Daniel spat, the iron taste of blood filling his mouth as he stood to his feet. His stance widened, and he pulled his spear up into position and leveled it at Gordon. Daniel was clearly ready for a fight and the other mercenaries knew better than to get in the way of two dueling egos.
“Fine then. This is how you want to play it? I’m as ready to toss as the next bloke, just don’t say I didn’t try and be nice” Gordon hissed, drawing his mace and pulling the shield off his back. Both fighters took stances some ten feet apart. Eternity hung between them, neither wanting to make the first move as they watched their opponent.
Then suddenly, as if some silent signal had been given, both men took off like cannon shots. Gordon outclassed Daniel in strength and endurance as a tank-focused fighter, but that meant a more versatile build like Daniel’s would never lose to him in speed or agility. They struck at the same time, just past the midpoint of their initial standoff. Daniel covered more ground than Gordon.
The two clashed like rolling thunder. Gordon swung his mace directly towards Daniel’s chest, a killing blow with the strength he would wield. Fortunately, Daniel had more than enough speed to divert the swing along the haft of his spear, though his own attack was thrown off course and scraped along the metal of his opponent’s shield. When the duo parted to make space, Daniel’s weapon was sporting a new dent, and a deep gouge had been rent from Gordon’s shield. Neither had been injured, and they seemed evenly matched. The fight would likely come down to whose equipment held out longer.
That is, of course, assuming Daniel kept getting hit. He dropped his stance low to the ground and activated two skills back to back. First [Zephyr Step] to increase his speed at the cost of strength, and [Piercer] to try and compensate for the sudden drop in offensive power.
He didn’t wait for Gordon to recover and charged the smaller man without delay. Like a jousting knight, he struck straight towards his shield, hoping his ‘friend’ could come to his senses before anyone got too hurt. A broken shield was a wound to pride for a heavy tank like Gordon, and Daniel’s spear struck across it, ringing like a gong. Gordon’s strike looked to be moving in slow motion, and Daniel was well out of range by the time it passed through his original position.
A minor scratch was all he had to show for the most recent attack, but it came at a much lower cost.
“Stop dancing around and fight me!” Gordon bellowed, pulsing with a weak red light as he activated an unknown skill. Likely a buff of some kind. Practically frothing at the mouth, he charged toward Daniel again, screaming in rage. The spearman dashed to the side and felt his calves scream as he forced his trajectory to hook behind his enemy. Gordon was struck from his blindspot, and the tip of Daniel’s spear cut a long gash along his jaw. Blood started pooling from below his ear and clung in thick clumps in his beard.
Another red light pulsed from Gordon, his eyes blanking over into crimson voids. His next scream carried blood from his own ragged throat, and with it, he hurled his shield at Daniel’s head. The distraction worked, and as Daniel stepped to the side to dodge the attack he found himself tackled to the ground and pinned under Gordon’s immense strength. He tried to buck him off, but the strength reduction from [Zephyr Step] made that almost impossible.
Gordon’s hands clasped around Daniel’s throat, and a few mercenaries began screaming at him. “That’s enough Gordon!”. The dwarf did not let up. Vitality alone was keeping Daniel conscious through the lack of air, but Gordon’s stats were putting pressure on his neck and spine. If he slipped for even a moment he’d die of a broken neck long before he suffocated.
His lungs spasmed for air, the sudden lurch deepening his enemy's hold on his throat. Daniel’s vision started to dim. He grasped desperately for his spear, hands curling around it and swinging blindly above him, desperate and fearful. Something found purchase and knocked Gordon off of him. Daniel was bathed in a sticky wet warmth as he gasped a deep and clarifying breath.
You have slain a [Dwarf Heavy Shielder - Lvl 115]
Congratulations!
[Junior Mercenary] has leveled up to 47
[Junior Mercenary] has leveled up to 48
Still gasping painful breaths, Daniel crawled to his knees. His eyes were drawn immediately to his former comrade's corpse, laying limp among the fallen leaves.
“Fuck.” he sighed.