Aiden, who tended to have strong opinions about pretty much everything happening in his surroundings, found himself unsure on what to think about some of the strange and unusual series of events that had just occurred before him. One thing he was sure about, was that he wasn’t a fan of Pekisee and his House of Lords. Their plan to force other players to voluntarily donate their Shards of Ascension and Genesis Orbs stank to high heaven, but at the same time, he wasn’t entirely sure what there was he could do about it.
Then, there were the three ominous figures that had come out of the portal, who introduced themselves with a less than subtle threat, outright demanding for hundreds of thousands of players to surrender to them on the spot.
And finally there was the strange quest he’d received as a result of the three figures stepping out of the portal. After spending years in ROTA, he was used to getting humorous quests and whimsical flavor text from time to time, but the last two he had received felt like they were particularly odd. However deranged the devs may have been when creating this quest, he couldn’t help but feel like there was something very specific he was supposed to figure out, or do, or not do? He was still working on the finer details.
“Do the smart thing… or the other thing,” he muttered to himself as he tried to use the very limited information at his disposal to come up with an idea or the beginnings of a plan.
The battlefield remained unnervingly still in the wake of the portal’s opening. Aiden could feel the silence pressing against his ears, heavier than the chaos that had come before. Around him, players shifted uneasily, their gazes locked on the three figures who stood motionless, drinking in the attention.
Aiden glanced toward Skal and Winterhell, both standing as still as statues. Winterhell’s usual sarcastic smirk had vanished, replaced with a furrowed brow. Skal’s tail flicked nervously, his claws flexing as though ready to summon his blade at the first sign of danger.
“This can’t be good,” Aiden muttered under his breath, his words barely audible.
“Understatement of the year,” Winterhell whispered back. “I can’t believe you were right,” she continued.
“Pardon?” Aiden said, taken by surprise.
“Your theory in the villa,” Winterhell murmured. “About what would come out of the portal being worse than the stuff trying to destroy it. You were right.”
“That seems like a dangerous precedent,” Skal said, his shoulders and jaw visibly tense. “I don’t think we can afford having that become a habit. It’ll probably go right to his head.”
“Well to be fair, he was only right about the one thing. He was still wrong about this event being an evil campaign, the whole last resistance thing and just about everything else as well,” Winterhell said, “so I wouldn’t be too worried about it.”
“You can stop complimenting me any time now,” Aiden said, his ears taking on a shade of pink again.
“Strategically speaking,” Skal rumbled, changing the topic with a low voice, “we already fought against the hordes of nightmare spider things, so this feels like the part where we get to run away.”
Before Aiden could respond, the leader of the trio stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
“Greetings,” he repeated, his tone smooth yet carrying an edge that sent shivers down Aiden’s spine. “Please allow me to introduce myself, my name is Ashrend, of the Village of Pain.” He gave a theatrical bow and as he did, the entire gathered crowd gasped in disbelief as his name and level appeared above his head.
Ashrend - Level 60
Straightening himself with an air of casual authority, he gestured toward the crimson-skinned colossus at his side. “This,” he announced, his tone carrying a subtle edge of pride, “is Havoc.” Then, with a sweeping motion toward the third figure cloaked in shimmering twilight hues, he added, “And this... is Nova.” After each introduction, the names and levels appeared above their heads:
Havoc - Level 60
Nova - Level 60
The battlefield buzzed with murmurs and gasps as Ashrend, Havoc and Nova’s levels burned bright above their heads like unyielding beacons of superiority. Ashrend let the moment stretch, reveling in the uneasy energy of the crowd before raising a hand for silence. It came quickly, a reluctant obedience that underscored the unspoken truth: no one wanted to experience the stark disparity in power first-hand. Well, almost no one.
“Oi! Get stuffed! Who do these guys think they are?” one voice shouted in defiance.
“We just took on an endless horde of those lurker things! We can take three overblown crapweasels!” another one yelled.
Then slowly but gradually more and more voices joined in, making their discontent heard regarding Ashrend and his followers’ outrageous and baseless demand for capitulation.
“I don't know what's more dangerous, an organised force or an angry mob,” Winterhell said, as the noise around them kept growing, as more joined in the shouting and hurling of insults.
“Oh definitely the angry mob,” Aiden said, “any mob is always as loud as the loudest person in it, as angry as the angriest person, and as stupid as the biggest moron. All it will take for this to escalate to violence is one trigger happy troll to do something drastic and we could all be facing severe consequences.”
As he spoke he looked to his left and paled slightly. “No offence,” he stammered in apology.
A player who had received the Troll race towered over the trio with an awkward smile. “None taken,” she said. “Trolls tend to get a bad rep, but the expression must have started with a grain of truth somewhere. Plus my main character outside of this event is a Halfling, so I'm not particularly invested in standing up against stereotypes against Trolls.”
“You don’t say, that must be quite a change in perspective at the very least,” Winterhell said.
“It is,” the Troll said. “I do prefer playing as the tiny character that gets overlooked or underestimated and to then come out of nowhere unexpectedly over being a giant walking target. But I'm not upset with this race. My name is Glissinda by the way.”
“No kidding,” Aiden said with a smile. Before he could respond, their conversation was cut short by movement coming from the trio who emerged from the portal.
Ashrend raised his arms again, demanding silence, but his voice went unheard, as it was drowned in the rising tide of angry, defiant players. After a few failed attempts to gain the crowd’s attention, which were answered with jeers from hundreds of angry players, who were quickly forming into a mob, Ashrend gave Havoc a glance who nodded briefly and stomped back into the portal.
Many who thought that he was retreating clapped and cheered, believing that their angry shouts were having a positive effect on their general situation. They were however quickly disappointed as, moments later, Havoc reappeared from the portal, and he wasn't alone.
Ranks of heavily armored soldiers began emerging from the portal behind him, their movements unnervingly synchronized. The gleaming black of their obsidian armor caught the flickering light of the portal, casting jagged reflections across the battlefield. Their sheer size and the ominous designs of their armor with jagged edges sent a chill rippling through the crowd.
They marched with an unrelenting rhythm, the ground trembling under their heavy boots. Row after row emerged, in an unmistakable display of martial discipline . The soldiers formed a perfect circle around Ashrend, Havoc, and Nova, their shields locking into place with a deafening clang, creating an impenetrable wall of steel between the leaders of the Village of Pain and the players.
The defiant cries from the crowd faltered, replaced by murmurs of uncertainty and fear. Players who had been brimming with anger moments ago instinctively stepped back, their confidence crumbling under the suffocating presence of the advancing army.
“A bunch of under-levelled characters thrown into a sudden but predictable battle royale wouldn't make for a very memorable contest,” Winterhell said, her tone flat and void of any humor.
“Will you please stop quoting my mistakes back to me?” Aiden said. “Plus we still don’t know what or if anything is going to happen here.”
“I have a great idea,” Skal said. “We could make for the hills and live to fight another day.”
The circular formation completed, the armored soldiers stood motionless, their presence an unspoken warning. Ashrend stepped forward, his expression calm but his crimson eyes blazing with intensity. He began to speak, his voice cutting through the stunned silence like a knife. “Now do I have your attention?” he said, his voice filled with dark promise. “Let me be perfectly clear,” he continued, his voice smooth and commanding, carrying effortlessly over the crowd. “We did not come here to slaughter you all. At least, not yet.”
A murmur ran through the crowd, players shifting uneasily. Skal’s tail continued twitching nervously, while Winterhell muttered under her breath, “That… somehow makes me feel even worse.”
Ashrend ignored the whispers, his voice rising as he continued. “We came here to deliver a message. A challenge, if you will. Those ruins before you,” he gestured again toward the city, “are filled with secrets, treasures, and opportunities beyond your wildest imaginations. You have six months, six months to claim as much of it as you can. Fortify your defenses. Gather your strength. Prepare for what’s to come.”
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“Guys,” Aiden said, ignoring Ashrend who was clearly enjoying his monologue. “When the battle first started and we all saw AeriKnight running for her life, did you receive a bonus quest to save her from the Lurkers?”
“You mean the Elf?” Winterhell said, “yeah I got a quest as well, but I denied it. I felt like she was getting her just desserts for ignoring our warnings.”
Ashrend’s expression darkened, his smirk growing sharper. “Because when your time is up, we, The Village of Pain will descend upon you. We will burn it all to the ground. We will shatter your walls, claim your treasures, and crush your resistance. But until then...” He spread his arms wide, his voice laced with mockery. “Consider this a fair warning.”
“Same here,” Skal answered, “though I didn’t accept it because I didn’t think it could be done. Why do you ask?”
Aiden’s eyes flicked toward his quest notification, the words do the smart thing… or the other thing taunting him. His fingers twitched as he weighed his options.
“Because I received another quest, and this one is even more outrageous than the last,” he said, sharing the quest information with his friends with a mental command.
“I don’t think we can fight them,” Skal said, after reading the quest description. “Not like this. Not now. The quest is even pointing out that there is a smart option, which definitely includes us not rage quitting our lives here.”
“That’s not helpful,” Aiden muttered, his gaze darting between the portal and Ashrend. “There has to be something….”
“Don’t,” Winterhell hissed, cutting him off. “Whatever you’re thinking, just don’t. It’s the wrong thing.”
Ashrend continued his speech, his voice carrying over the noise. “Rejoice! You have been chosen to face a challenge unlike any other. A test of your resolve, your creativity, your will to survive. And when we return, we will see who among you has the strength to stand against us.”
“Look, I’m sorry I rushed into that quest only to disappear on you guys earlier,” Aiden said, his heart pounding, his legs shaking, as thoughts started to shoot through his head. “After I ensured that AeriKnight was safe, I immediately came back, looking for you.”
“We were fine,” Winterhell said, “I think we and the other players needed a push anyway. Plus had you checked our party chat, you would have known that we were ok, where we were, and that we were worried about you.” She said the last few words with a surprising amount of emotions in her voice. “I don’t know what your aversion with chats comes from, but you need to help us look after you once in a while, instead of waiving your hero complex around like a lunatic.”
“She’s right you know,” Skal said, his toothy grin partially returning, though he was clearly still very uncomfortable with not running away, “you’d be surprised at how much more you can accomplish, once you embrace the power of friendship.”
Aiden gave his companions a bright and honest smile. “You guys really are more than I deserve, and I mean that in the best and worst possible way.”
He summoned his loot, his entire frame practically shaking with nervous energy, his knuckles white as he held his sturdy lute in his hands.
“You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?” Skal muttered.
“Of course he is,” Winterhell answered, her bright smile returning, “just look at him, he’s practically off to save the world… or to destroy it, killing us all.”
Before either of his companions could say or do anything else, Aiden activated his Sonic Blink. The portal was too far away for him to close the distance in a single blink, so he darted across the battlefield, appearing and disappearing again as quickly as he was able to. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he could hardly hear his own thoughts, and more than once he had to apologize to players for knocking them over because of a poor landing.
The circular ring of armored soldiers and the portal they were defending quickly came closer until in one last flash of shimmering energy, he made one final blink, landing a few feet from Ashrend. Gasps rippled through the crowd as all eyes turned to him.
Ashrend raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening into something far more dangerous. “Well, well,” he drawled, his crimson gaze locking onto Aiden. “A brave one. Or perhaps one with a deathwish.”
Aiden straightened, his fingers tightening around the neck of his lute. “I’m not a fan of ultimatums, and tyrants rambling on in an endless and frankly bad evil villain monologue” he said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through him.
Ashrend chuckled, a low, menacing sound that sent a shiver down Aiden’s spine. Then after glancing him up and down he spoke, “Those are some pretty big words for a humble bard. You do realize who you’re addressing, don’t you?”
Before Aiden could respond, Nova stepped forward, her shimmering cloak of twilight hues billowing around her. Now that he was up close to her, he guessed that she was some sort of fae, though he couldn’t be entirely sure. Her voice was soft, yet it carried an icy sharpness that demanded attention. “This is Ashrend of The Village of Pain.”
“Oh yeah?” he said, his voice steady. “Well, I’m Aiden… of the Fey.”
And with a resounding crack, he brought the lute, his stupid, trusty, marvellous lute down squarely on Ashrend’s jaw.
The instrument shattered on impact, sending splinters of wood scattering to the ground. The crowd gasped, their collective disbelief hanging thick in the air. For a moment, everything was still. To Aiden’s shock, a red health bar appeared below Ashrend’s name, indicating that his blow had dealt absolutely no damage to him at all.
Then, Ashrend laughed. A low, menacing chuckle that grew into a full-throated roar. He touched his jaw, flexing it experimentally, before turning his piercing gaze back to Aiden.
“Oh, I’m going to remember you, little Bard,” he said, his smile wicked. “Aiden of the Fey. This is going to be great fun.”
Aiden took a step back, his broken lute still clutched in his trembling hands.The air crackled with tension as Ashrend’s laughter echoed across the battlefield, a haunting promise of what was to come.
Ashrend, who by the looks of it was a Dark Elf, gave Aiden a predatory grin that would forever haunt him in his nightmares before speaking, “well we’ve come to deliver our little message, so we have no further business here. Play your songs for now little Bard, for in six months, our portals will open again, and my legions will come pouring out of them to consume you all.”
With that, he gave a nod to Havoc, who was probably a Demon, or perhaps an Oni, who bellowed a loud and sharp order, after which the circular formation promptly marched back into the portal.
After the last of the heavily armored soldiers disappeared into the shining light of the portal, Ashrend gave Aiden one final glance, “remember this, little bard: I’m not the villain here, I’m just the enemy.”
And with that, he walked towards the portal and stepped into it, quickly followed by Havoc and Nova. Moments after they had passed through it, the bright lights and energetic humming coming from the portal faded, as it died down, leaving the Evergreen Glade in silence.
The silence lasted about 3 seconds.
There was a thunderous cacophony of noise erupting as many players cheered Aiden’s outrageous actions. Some were transfixed where they stood, taking in what had just happened, while many more headed dispersed in all directions making their way back towards the ruined city of Lockhaven.
Aiden blinked back towards his companions, who were easier to find, since Winterhell was shooting her Celestial Ember into the sky like a flare.
“You really did it this time,” Winterhell said, crossing her arms as he reappeared next to them. “I can’t believe you just… hit him. With a lute.”
“Honestly, I thought it’d bounce off,” Skal added, his grin returning despite the tension. “You’re lucky they didn’t snap you in half.”
Aiden let out a shaky laugh, dismissing the shattered remains of his lute. “Well,” he said, his voice tinged with a mix of humor and exhaustion, “the quest did say to do the other thing.”
Winterhell groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “And you thought that was the other thing?”
With that, they burst into laughter, the tension that had been building up ever since they first set foot into the ruined villa, fought the Lurkers and the Umbral Sentinel in the courtyard, rushed through the city to get back to the portal and facing the ordeal in the Evergreen Glade disappeared as they revelled in the moment of having survived another ridiculous scenario, presumably crafted by the High Council.
After they finished celebrating, Aiden received a system notification:
Quest complete!
You have completed the quest: Figures from the Portal!
Reward: Shard of Ascension
“We’ve got six months,” Skal said as the group's laughter wore down. “Let’s make them count.”
Winterhell smirked, shaking her head. “Of all the ways to start a war…”