Talahria, Personal Shadow of the Lightning Witch and Third Shadow of the vampiric city of Elcifer, lay hidden in her mistress’ shadow. Around her, players prepared for the upcoming raid, completely oblivious to her existence – as they should be. She was proud of her skills in the shadow arts, her vampiric heritage no doubt giving her a strong affinity with the dark element.
She doubted her mistress was aware of her full talents, just like she was unaware of Talahria in her shadow now. Despite this being her usual station, Lilith had ordered her to return and report the desertion of the guilds back to The First Shadow of Elcifer – The spy master working under both her and her and The Bloody Baron. As a player Talahria didn’t mind the sudden increased risk of death and so took the easiest and simplest option - logging out and messaging The First Shadow.
Despite the game’s best attempts and punishments doled out by various Gods for doing so, players found the temporary inconveniences imposed by the game to be worth it. Richer players hired artificers to make communication devices or paid players with specialised skills and spells to send messages long distance. She shrugged. It wasn’t her problem. The Fist Shadow was the one receiving the information. He could deal with the consequences. Besides, it wasn’t anything major.
Now, she watched Lilith signal other team leaders with small short flashes of lightning. Tahlaria settled in for the show. She wasn’t meant to be here and as such wasn’t meant to do any work. As president the largest of Lilith’s fan clubs and a long time fan, there was nothing better than to watch her long time hero and role model from the front seat.
*****
Azrael noticed someone sending out signals from the center of the cavern. It wasn’t morse or any other signal language he recognised – just three brief flashes. An easy recognisable signal, visible from every part of the cave. Having missed most of the briefing in the plan and not being privy to the conversations of the leadership he was curious as to what the battle plan was.
As the games evolved so did the possible strategies. The greater the freedom afforded to players, the greater the number of strategies. Numbers and raw damage were replaced by tactics and teamwork. Skillsets, items and terrain also played an increasing part. Technical skill and awareness was always a large part. When games went virtual, terrain became three dimensional. What forty players in full gear could achieve, three players with a specific skillset or items could also achieve. When virtual games approached an almost free sandbox like quality the option expanded a hundredfold. Were it not for the fact that the dragon guarded one of the passages through the mountains Azrael would have suggested burying it. Effective, but the aftermath would be disastrous. The cleanup would require a proffesional group of dedicated earth mages, but if such a team existed then they wouldn’t have to fight the dragon in the first place. They could bypass it.
This plan however did not involve a group of professionals, rather a mostly ragtag bunch of players, a guild, some strong players and Ranker. There were rumours that there was another Ranker here – The Sword King – but Azrael hadn’t seen anybody stand out. Still, as he watched dark shapes move towards the dragon, silently moving in the dark vastness of the cavern, he briefly turned to look at James. The massive swordsman for a change was not grinning, looking in the direction of the command with the air of a seasoned warrior.
A second later and there was a massive flash filling the cavern. Not another signal, but an actual flash of lightning, crashing straight into the dragon. He doubted it was the strongest that the Lightning Witch could cast, but the light was blinding and the thunder was unbelievably deafening. While it wasn’t the strongest, it was no doubt an extremely powerful and mana costly spell.
In that briefest of moments that signalled the beginning of the raid several things happened. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed and the figures, he corrected himself – undead – that had been sneaking up on the dragon attacked, biting and tearing at its scaled body trying to find a gap in its legendary armour. While the undead were mostly ineffectual, the massive chunks of rock that fell from the ceiling were far more effective. Knocked loose by the lightning and subsequent thunder they tumbled from far above to come smashing down onto the dragon below. Smaller ones bounced off, larger ones smashed through scales and three or four sharper ones pierced deep into the dragon’s flesh.
In the sudden darkness left in the wake of the lightning there were screams and shout along with the clanging of metal and chanting of spells. They were all drowned out by the absolutely, impossibly deafening roar of a raging dragon awakening to find itself in pain and intruders in its home.
Azrael keeled over, the sound a physical force. He dry retched, his ears booming like a drum, but the world otherwise silent. A few blue screens flickered into existence, almost hesitantly, as if they were afraid to appear.
Warning!
You have experienced a dragon’s roar and have been afflicted with [Dragon Fear]
Congratulations!
Due to the aspect of Defiance in your [Aura] you have managed to mitigate [Dragon Fear]
Warning!
Due to the difference in power you have failed to mitigate all effects of [Dragon Fear]
He mentally flicked the notifications out of his vision, trying to instead focus on calming down his suddenly rapid breaths and stop the uncontrollable shaking of his knees. His only solace was that players didn’t need to go to the toilet and his pants were dry. A moment that seemed both impossibly long and yet too short passed and he found his breath steadying, his control over his body returning.
Congratulations!
Through regaining rationality during an impossibly extreme situation you have gained three levels in [Calm Mind].
A dragonflame of brilliant gold, tinged with white and blue, pierced the darkness randomly scorching a large section of the far wall, but still managing to take out a swath of unfortunate players. Their screams were short lived, through the cries of many others filled the cavern.
Congratulations!
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Through maintaining rationality during an extreme situation you have gained two levels in [Calm Mind].
Azrael ignored the new notifications as they popped up, checking his body. He was fine, physically, though his health had dropped by a few points. His hearing was still out, trampled torches and newly summoned mage lights casting eery shadows and sending flashes through nearby crystal clusters. He tilted his head and felt something slide across his ear. He checked, his finger coming away sticky and warm. Blood.
A second burst of dragonfire incinerated all the zombies around it, giving players a brief view of the massive scale of the now risen beast. Wreathed in flames and surrounded by burning corpses, the dragon towered far, far above what he had thought it would. He cast [Lord’s Insight] upon it, the single blue box impossibly luminous even in the dark.
Lesser Red Dragon (Banished)
His breath shuddered, involuntarily. Later he would attribute it to the [Dragon Fear]. This was a Lesser red dragon? What was a normal, or even a greater one like? The banished status seemed to indicate that dragons lived in some form of shared community, this one most likely banished due to its wounds. Azrael dismissed the window, sparing a single moment to examine the dragon.
Its single undamaged eye glared at the players balefully and Azrael felt a brief flicker of doubt flitted across his mind. Was it actually possible to slay a dragon? The World Raid on the World Serpent of the North had failed. Were there some things that were simply meant to be left alone? Azrael found his faith in the raid plummet, his stomach sinking. Still, the sight of blood on the dragon’s right wing brought back some of his faith. He shook his head to clear it, blood flying outwards from the movement. One of the falling boulders from the initial attack had punctured its wing membrane. The dragon could be wounded, and what could be wounded could be killed.
Around him, he noticed other players doubt and fear. Some tried to run, stumbling and flailing as they did so. Many more stood shocked, still locked by [Dragon Fear]. It was a rare few that actually did anything.
From the center of the raid, near where The Lightning Witch was a flare of magical light floated upward, stopping at the ceiling and illuminating the entire cavern. From somewhere behind him a player finished a chant, white light with the smell of sunshine and fresh grass enveloping Azrael, James and many other players. Slowly sound returned, along with the screams, shouting and clamouring of many unprepared players. The dragon roared again. Thankfully not with the same intensity, but still uncomfortably loud. James grinned and returned with his own roar, his massive blade gleaming ghostly blue. Without a second through James charged in, leading the start of the second attack.
Azrael shook his head, sending the last droplets of blood flying from his ears and pushed mana through his daggers, casting [Reinforcement] on both of them. Then, he and somewhere over a hundred more players charged towards the dragon. It was most likely a suicide mission, it was an adventure, it was a raid and Azrael loved it.
And indeed some of them never made it halfway to the dragon, dragonfire leaving molten stone and black corpses in its wake. A few players managed to hold out for a second or two by erecting magical barriers, but they shattered leaving players at the mercy of the flames. The necromancers, having lost a large portion of their troops in the opening went to work on their fallen allies, bringing them back to fight even after death.
Still, players and their attacks did make it to the dragon. Spells of all kinds flew towards the dragon through the air, impacting against it. They splashed, fizzled, sizzled and broke against its red scales. Arrows, enchanted and enhanced with skills rained down, clattering off ineffectually. Yet, a few lucky ones managed to find gaps in the scales. Some players with a little more foresight aimed for the wounds and broken scales, doing damage where they could. Others tried to attack old wound, to varying degrees of success.
Amongst the melee players, swords, spears, daggers and axes rose and fell. Like with the projectiles, there were many that simply attacked, lost in the mindless exhilaration of the situation. Calmer veterans aimed for gaps in the scales, piercing the hide beneath and drawing blood – hot blood, which steamed as it left the dragon’s body.
Amongst all those players nobody was more effective than James, his massive blade swinging with unstoppable force and sending long streaks of light blue energy streaking across the dragon’s front. The swing cut deep, drawing a line of blood from its left breast. The dragon roared, with both pain and anger and reared up. James took this as a chance for a follow up sweep, another powerful swing opening up a large cut in the dragon’s softer exposed underbelly.
It came crashing down, its front legs crushing players, while its wounds spattered survivors with boiling hot blood. Another bout of dragonfire wiped out another party or two.
Azrael dodged the dragon claw coming down, sliding between the legs of a heavily armoured tank who thought he could block the blow. Azrael wished him best of luck and even summoned a host of [Earth Spear]s to aid him, hoping that even if the lone man couldn’t block the blow the dragon would pierce its foot on the sharp stone.
There was a crunch and the earth shook, and when he looked back neither the stone spikes nor the man were to be seen. The dragon, unfortunately, didn’t even seem mildly inconvenienced. Azrael changed tack, swinging back to continue attacking the dragon. He plunged his dagger under a scale, forcing it in and summoned another one, adding it to the ten others already sticking out. He grinned fiercely as blood flowed out of the wounds and singed and soaked his clothes. The dragonscale, larger than his head, would make a great trophy.
And yet, despite the vigour of the initial charge, the battle seemed to enter a stalemate. There was no great strategy, no powerful items, no preprepared great magic or even a proper combat plan. There was simply carnage. Players attacked and were attacked in turn. The dragon, once so annoyed at the pests that dares harm and wake it, began to calm down and realise that these pests not only dared to annoy it, but also view it as prey. Despite this realisation, it was outnumbered and the wounds on its body kept accumulating.
Its body bore massive cuts (mostly courtesy of James), but was also filled with countless arrows that protruded from the gaps between the scales. Spells had managed to shatter more scales and blood flowed freely from cuts, further draining its strength.
Its front legs and flanks were the worst off, having borne the brunt of the players’ attacks. Scales were cut, cracked and chipped, blood pooling in steaming pools at its feet. And despite all that only a fool would have thought that the players were winning. Their once great force was reduced to fifty, or rather fifty and almost the same number of freshly reanimated undead.
While its breath attacks hadn’t been continuous and became less frequent as the battle prolonged a dragon’s whole body was a weapon. Claws swiped at overzealous players, sending them flying and striking the spellcasters at the back. Others found themselves flatter than pancakes on a Sunday morning breakfast as the dragon brought its weight to bear down on them. For those that tried to run a worse fate awaited, as the dragon began to take full advantage of its tail, spinning round with massive force.
The first time it did that it cut down their then remaining forces by almost a third. Despite its wounded wing it also brought them into play, flapping them to create buffeting winds that showered the unfortunate with scalding blood.
The few times that it did manage to produce enough energy to release dragonfire on the players, Lilith redirected it, by striking the dragon’s head with lightning. It effectively locked her out of the battle, being relegated to keeping the remaining players safe from the dragon’s most potent attack.
Having just failed another breath attack the dragon roared, a wall of the cavern glowing red with rapidly cooling molten stone. The cavern was hot, but each breath of dragon fire increased the heat again, making it harder to breath and harder to move. Amongst other [Status] notifications [Heat Resistance] was definitely rising with the greatest consistency.
The dragon, annoyed that it had been thwarted its rightful barbeque, raised itself up, its wings flapping and unlike the first few times James didn’t take advantage. Its underbody was cut, but James’ seemingly constant barrage of glowing blue attacks had dwindled as the fight continued, the glowing blue aura now restricted to the edges of his massive his blade. Whatever skill it was the fight had taxed it.
Bracing against the once again rising winds, Azrael caught himself on magically earth-shaped handholds, while James simply stabbed his sword into the ground, taking the wind and boiling blood as they came. A few mages in the back erected shields, but many more players were sent flying. The undead were also rapidly diminishing in number, dead bodies being smashed, crushed or rent beyond salvageable use.
Sixty,
fifty,
forty.
Azrael watched as the numbers of surviving players dwindled to dangerously low numbers. These were the stronger, skilled and more disciplined players. Either that or plain lucky. The weak and unlucky had been weeded out long ago. These were also players that had been fighting a relentless, unyielding and seemingly undying beast of myth and legend for more time than Azrael cared to count. The beast was wounded, but they were exhausted. Each new wound on the dragon was another life sacrificed. It wasn’t even a proper battle of attrition anymore.
The dragon, though bloody and wounded, seemed to have reached the same conclusion and let out a second challenging roar.
Still stuck in the ground, the aura around James’ blade flickered, finally winking out.