The dwarves had come up out of their tunnels. The message was going around town, bouncing from character to character like a contagious debuff. Kresh didn’t see the point in responding, but went anyway, a pair of axes strapped across his back just in case. The dwarves had come up out of their tunnels. So what? They did that nearly every week in commemoration of some great battle or some great feast or some great battle at some great feast.
The city itself was partly underground, and at the back of the largest cavern was a dark, gaping maw through which the dwarves and the goblins would flow, day and night. Half of it was a railyard, usually stocked with mine carts and busy with crews loading up trains of ore to be sent out twice every night and once again in the morning. Tonight it was filled with dwarves and goblins alike, all standing in silence and looking into the dark, yawning blackness as more and more of their kin arrived, little headlights announcing their presence like will-o-wisps coming in over the moors. Most telling was the silence, not a single bickering word rose above the quiet murmurs of dwarves, goblins, and the slow accumulation of orcs and the city’s more exotic creatures.
“What’s going on?” Kresh asked, pushing his way to the front. One of the dwarven miners turned to him and shrugged helplessly.
“Thar’s somethin’ down there…” he said, his words quiet and grave.
“Any idea what it is?” Kresh asked, finding his way into a small ring of players and more important NPCs. He recognized a few of them, their names lighting subtly over their heads. He stopped talking immediately, finding himself in a ring around three men. A blood-soaked dwarf lay on the ground. Two green-skinned orcs knelt over him. One was Blademaster Draeg, the city’s leader and it’s highest level player. The other was a windweaver, whom Kresh had not met.
Blademaster Draeg stood, somberly wiping blood from his hands. “Is there anything you can do?”
His companion chanted quietly, one hand on the dwarf’s temple, the other on his heart. Soft silver light wove around his fingertips and flowed into the dwarf’s still body. The chanting stopped and the windweaver stood, taking several steps away from the dying dwarf.
“Behold, the soulbinder comes…” the windweaver said. He pointed to something that Kresh could not see. The dwarf sucked in one last, ragged breath, and then fell silent.
Kresh focused on the dwarf and his UI brought up a transparent display.
Foreman Yandall, Level 114 Dwarf Miner, Specialization: Foreman, Health: Deceased
Kresh whistled quietly. Foreman Yandall was a miner, not exactly a combat class, but still: Level 114! Kresh let his mind wander over the myriad of amazing creatures that might’ve been unearthed deep in the mines that could have been capable of laying out a dwarf of such high level.
Blademaster Draeg moved to the edge of the circle, which parted to allow him to pass. He stepped up onto a sturdy crate at the edge of the rail yard and motioned for silence. Immediately the murmuring crowd fell utterly silent. Draeg drew a sword, the blade ringing quietly as he pulled it from the scabbard.
“Today we lost a powerful ally,” he began. His booming voice carried strong and clear across the cavern, echoing back. He thrust his flashing sword high over his head. “Tonight we avenge his death!”
The crowd erupted in cheers and raucous cries for revenge all around Kresh. Caught in the moment he raised his axe in answer to his warchief’s battle cry and let out a roar.
When the cacophony died down, Draeg spoke again, pointing a sword into the dark, emptiness beyond the rail yard. “Tonight we venture into the darkness, for our rite of vengeance. We go without fear, for we are the fearless. We are orc and dwarf and goblin. We are the people of Laklin Deep, and our walls do not tremble!”
Another roar, this one with more upraised weapons, more fervor in the crowd. Kresh almost missed the quest notification, quietly pulsing for his attention. When he focused on it the icon expanded into a quest dialogue.
Not Alone in the Dark
Your warchief, Blademaster Draeg, has sent out a call to arms! Join your warchief as he investigates the death of Foreman Yandall and his dwarves.
Quest Type: Every Able Sword
Reward: Because this quest type is available to every member of your warband, tribe, or city regardless of level, you will be rewarded experience and items commensurate with your contribution to the public quest.
This was one of those times when Kresh wondered if he should have taken a support class like the windweaver or one of the other healing classes. They would easily take advantage of these big public classes. Draeg was level 148 blademaster; Kresh a mere level 27 bloodrager.
Welp, time to get my ass kicked…
Kresh joined the other players gathering around the entrance to the Dark Below. The warband interface lit up, showing Draeg as the warchief. Other high level players soon joined, the upper echelons of the warband soon crammed with Laklin Deep’s most skilled and tenured players. It was a light night, several NPCs joined up, filling out the ranks courtesy of Draeg’s leadership skills. Draeg and another officer arranged the warband into parties. Kresh was not surprised to find himself relegated to one of the weaker groups. He was only level 27, after all. Still no one argued whether or not he should be allowed to come along.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Probably just assuming I’ll get myself killed right away and be out of the way.
This was the worst possible outcome, running into a powerful boss creature and dying in the first few seconds. The Every Able Sword quest class algorithm would give him some credit for attending, but his contribution would be minor even if he did survive a while. Surviving the entire event seemed beyond optimistic. Not with creatures running around that could kill a level 114 creature. NPC. Dwarf.
“We depart in 10 minutes!” one of the officers warned. “Make ready!”
This was code for pee now, we’re not waiting later. Kresh took advantage of the brief respite to hurriedly dig through his woefully unorganized inventory screens and finally came up with what he believed was the best strength enhancement potion he had on him. He waited until the one minute warning to drink it down. To his surprise it tasted of apple cider. Hard apple cider. He wasn’t sure how the VR console managed that kind of effect, but it was as real as holding a warm mug of the stuff to his mouth and tilting it back.
Draeg shouted a command and the warband passed into the Dark Below. A few meters into the cavern the ambient light of the city faded away and the ground took a much steeper angle. Quietly the warband marched along dwarven rail and past abandon carts still heaped with ore and occasionally with valuable crystals and gems. Or at least Kresh assumed they were valuable, though he decided maybe it wouldn’t be the best opportunity to snatch something up. That would certainly undo whatever small positive reputation he might’ve garnered in the few weeks he’d been a resident of Laklin Deep.
Up at the front a dwarf miner wearing one of the lantern hats directed Draeg, stopping at some junctions to consult a map. Beads of sweat began to pop out on Kresh’s forehead. At first he thought it was from the march, but he soon realized the air had grown warmer. All at once the narrow tunnel they had found opened up into a large mining area. Crystals sparkled in clusters all along the walls. A rail cart near the entrance glittered with its burden of softly glowing stones. Then he saw the bodies.
A dwarf miner lay in a pool of blood along the track, two goblins had covered most of the distance to the narrow access tunnel before being killed. Their thin mining vests were slashed across the back, a splash of blood marked the ground where they’d first been struck. They hadn’t made it far after that.
It was at this point that Kresh noticed the faint red glow around the periphery of his vision. He turned to try to see what it was, but found nothing there. Yet the glow persisted…
Part of the UI?
The red light pulsed slowly, growing subtly brighter. A low, guttural growl resounded through the cavern. Hands quickly found their weapons. Draeg took a few steps out in front of the warband. His windweaver followed close behind, the tip of his staff casting a soft silver light into the dark recesses of the cave.
“Show yourself!” the warchief demanded.
A spike of panic rose in Kresh’s chest. He hadn’t thought to choose what abilities he would use when the battle started! He rushed through the list mentally.
Mindless Rage? No, that’ll get me killed. Boiling Blood? Too slow. Heart of the Warrior? Too slow. Too slow. Not helpful. Then he remembered it. Undying Rage.
Undying Rage. Lasts 30 seconds. Any attack that would kill you during this time instead reduces you to 1 hp. Increased movement speed. Increased Strength. Increased Regeneration.
The red light flared like a struck match. Kresh activated the ability, feeling a spike in his vitality. He felt light on his feet. He felt strong! He felt- Everyone around him died.
The wave of flame passed over the warband so quickly he barely noticed it. All at once warnings and skill notifications flowed across his vision.
Warning! Health Low!
Bravery of the Orcs Activated! Immune to Fear!
Last Defender Activated! +27% Strength!
Vengeful Fury! +38% Strength!
Warning! Health Low!
Unknown’s Inferno Dragon Fire Hits you for 27,342 Health (26,111 overkill!)
Undying Rage Activated!
For a moment he didn’t know what to do. He just stood there holding the haft of his axe and looking around with wide, surprised eyes as burned bodies dropped to the ground all around him. At the front all that was left was Warchief Draeg and the windweaver. The next wave of flame crashed into the windweaver’s shield. Molten death passed on either side, parted by the shield like a snowplow.
Out of the darkness the foe emerged, a dragon with deep maroon scales, lava-like venom dripping from its slavering jaws.
Unknown Level 221 Inferno Dragon
Kresh’s jaw dropped open. The dragon filled the cavern. Rising up to full height its horns nearly scraped the ceiling. It spread its wings and hissed, droplets of molten lava and venom scoring the rocks at its feet. Draeg looked back with desperate eyes. Kresh stood alone. He met his warchief’s gaze and readied his axe, giving the blademaster a nod.
Draeg pointed toward the narrow access tunnel. “Run! Seal the Dark Below!”
Just then the dragon struck again. A sweep of his claws shattered the windweaver’s shield and killed him in the same blow. Draeg stood alone now, drawing both swords. He charged the dragon, leaping toward him with his blades raised high for one last, desperate strike.
Kresh almost stayed. He stood, hypnotized as Draeg landed a blow across the dragon’s muzzle and was batted aside. The blademaster twisted in the air, springing off the cavern wall to launch himself at the dragon’s vulnerable eye.
Undying Rage will fade in 10 seconds…
Warning! Health Low!
Kresh bolted for the access tunnel, the fires of hell chasing at his feet. A few meters into the access tunnel Draeg’s icon faded to gray in the warband. A few seconds later Undying Rage fell away. Kresh bolted up the hill, tossing his axe down behind him. He entertained some vain hope that the dragon would stumble into it and injure itself as it forced its way through the narrow caverns. The hot rage of hell behind him reminded him that the dragon did not need to reach him to kill him. No, ten, twenty meters would be enough.
He sprinted up the hill as fast as his feet could go. Blindly sprinting through the near-dark he fumbled through his inventory looking for something, anything that could increase his speed. He cursed his disorganized bags. He cursed the soreness pounding in his feet. Most of all he cursed the damn dragon.
Then, at long last, light ahead.
“Look out look out look out!” he shouted, bursting into the city and zipping past stunned miners. “DRAGON! THERE’S A DRA—“
A loud horn blasted through the cavern, deafening him. He clapped his hands over his ears and found more thing to curse as he fell to his knees. Behind him a sound started like thunder, rolling and rolling and never stopping. When he dared to take a peek back he saw a metal wall dropping into place with all the weight and vastness of a mountain. It slammed down hard enough to shake the ground, sending cracks through the earth and toppling Kresh from his feet as he tried to stand again.
An orc in simple brown robes helped Kresh back to his feet. “I just logged in… what happened?”
Kresh turned and looked at the new wall, mystified. The Dark Below was sealed. There was nothing to do now but wait for an hour to pass for the warband players to revive. “…we lost…” he said, his voice thin and distant.
“You guys should have waited for Draeg,” the orc scolded gently. “He’s amazing. Plus, he’s our warchief you know.”
“He was there… He died. I am the only survivor…”