Sly beat me back to Bridgeport. His pathing macros must have been better than he let on. Bridgeport, like its name, was a city of bridges and ports. Originally the largest trading city in a neutral territory called the Freeholds, it was now in the center of a religious war between two warring factions, each growing stronger every day. Their divisions were as much racial as they were political. Most of the races started here on creation, while a select few started in one of the minor cities like Gnomehome or the minotaur settlement of Ruhrdan.
The city itself sat on a collection of islands that rested within the main waterways that split the continent. A vast network of bridges connected the different districts of Bridgeport through vast white-stoned bridges, while the main governmental heart rested on an island in the center. Every manner of player could be seen, even those that originally spawned elsewhere, because this was the heart of the game—the center of commerce, quests, and socializing between players.
Before I managed to reach the clinic, I saw Sly. He looked more excited than usual, waving his arms and running over once he noticed me.
“You won’t believe it! Get over here!” said Sly, his voice flooded with excitement.
Sly led me through the dense crowd of players, pushing his way to the front. The mob of payers had made a clearing for two figures who stood facing one another. At the center was Sergius, a satyr with spiraling horns that grew from his temples and wound behind his head. He was a rogue, like me, and the strongest on the server. One day I hoped to be as strong as him. Rogues in Abaddon were among the dexterity classes. While thieves traded damage for a vast toolkit of special abilities, and assassins traded extended combat for unloading massive damage at the outbreak of an encounter with powerful backstabs, rogues were a combat class, focused on parrying and dodging attacks. But we had a few tricks of our own—specifically disarming and kicking like a fighter, and lock-picking like a thief. Although neither as well.
Standing across from him was Ruin, clad in midnight leather. He was tall, with jet black hair and pure-white skin. Ruin was a vampire, and not just any vampire, he was the PK king. Not just on this server, but on any server. He was a cambion, an infernal spawn between a demon and a mortal. It was a common race to pick for the player killers, the bonus to strength and intelligence meant maximizing the damage on both physical attacks as well as spells.
Ruin raised his arm and opened his menu, visible only to him, and with an outstretched finger clicked.
SERGIUS AND RUIN HAVE BEGUN A DUEL.
Sly began to shake with excitement, darting looks back to me to check my own response. He knew I was going to root for the rogue. But I was less optimistic about how interesting the outcome might be. I knew all of the things rogues were capable of—hell, It was my main class—and killing vampires wasn’t among them. Vampires were a hybrid class, collecting both powerful physical and magical attacks. They also have a lethal combination of skills and abilities. While Sergius might dodge every attack Ruin threw at him, there was no dodging a bloodboil spell. And even if Sergius was capable of hitting the vampire, the bite he may take in return would heal Ruin, mitigating that damage.
Sergius opened the fight, darting to the side, cloaking himself in the shadows, and unleashing his ambush. The vampire, as expected, used his ability to turn to mist, and avoided the attack. His form evaporated into a thick gray cloud that crept along the ground.
The murky fog roiled like a thundercloud along the cobblestone street, enveloping Sergius. The satyr should have been panicking—that’s what I’d be doing. But, instead, a crooked smirk edged across Sergius’s face. He sheathed his weapons, a rapier and a dagger, like my own, and unveiled two sparkling scimitars. My eyes widened, and Sly shot me another look, his mouth was a wide grin full of teeth. He knew what was coming.
Before Ruin could rematerialize and land a devastating bite, Sergius stole the initiative and struck the incorporeal vampire with both weapons.
A blinding light of holy power shot out from where he struck, dazzling the onlookers and forcing them to look away. He had managed to collect not one, but two holy silver slayer’s blades. They were dropped by an incredibly difficult perm, and had an exceptionally low drop rate. It must have taken him months to collect one, but he had managed to procure two. But now he had them, and Ruin, king of player killers, was in a losing position. My face transformed immediately. This rogue had a chance. And I couldn’t hide a smile.
Shrugging off the damage, the swirling fog reformed back into Ruin and he landed his bite. No amount of preparation can truly make a character ready to take a bite from a vampire. His fangs sunk deep into the rogue's neck, and Sergius struggled to disengage. But it was no use. Ruin had recovered much of the damage and was about to begin his assault.
Ruin slashed wide with his longsword, opening a gash in Sergius. The bite had left him staggered, unable to dodge—his life force momentarily drained. Ruin twisted to the side and readied another attack, but this time Sergius parried. Landing a vicious hit on the vampire, his holy silver blade burning through the vampire’s flesh.
Ruin’s eyes widened as he began stepping back. His overwhelming advantage had dwindled, but he wasn’t out. Using his free hand he summoned a long icicle spear in his fist and sent it spiraling into Sergius. It found its target—landing in his chest and sinking deep.
The game had changed. The vampire was now on the defensive, sending an array of ice magic towards the satyr from a safe distance, knowing that the rogue was powerless to stop the magical assault that couldn’t be dodged. Sergius did his best to counter, dashing forward and swinging hard with both blades. But it was no use, the vampire could match his speed, one step for the other. Every time Sergius lunged forward and struck open air, the vampire backpedaled and sent out another icy missile.
“This is great!” shouted Sly into my ear. In my heart I wanted the rogue to win. How could I not? But we were not a PK class. Our strength was in the dungeon—a perfect adventuring class. Opening with an ambush, then whittling down our opponents with physical attacks and parries. Vampires, on the other hand, were a class based on burst, healing, and unloading monumental amounts of damage, then shrouding themselves in mist. Slinking away to recover before their next encounter.
Sergius was growing weary. Even with the advantage of two incredibly powerful weapons, he wasn’t landing enough hits. The vampire had the mana pool to overcome the rogue through magic without swinging a weapon and risking a riposte, and it was just a matter of time until he eventually succeeded.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I said to Sly, shouting over the din of the excited spectators. “Why would a PKer like Ruin agree to a duel? What does he have to prove? If anything, it only gives Sergius the time to ready his rare weapons."
Sly looked to me and shrugged. He loved the spectacle of it, but hadn’t considered the strange circumstances. He was too engrossed by it.
Grabbing Sly’s shoulder I shouted, “It’s a trick!”
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I began racing through the crowd, elbowing my way through the cheering onlookers surrounding the duelists.
As Sergius stumbled once more from a repeated ice spell, two forms appeared behind him. It was Riss and Wurm, notorious PKers. Both rangers, they abused the class-specific track spell. It allowed them to fast travel across the map towards a target player. Normally, the track spell was used for rangers to navigate complex dungeons and forests to reunite with their parties, but they had discovered that a group tracking spell could also teleport them to a weakened player. Not to help, but to kill.
Ruin straightened and began laughing, his form evaporating back into mist. Sergius stopped, and before he could fully realize what danger he had put himself in, it was too late. Both rangers landed ambushes on the wounded Rogue. Because they had his flank, he couldn’t manage a dodge or a parry. He was dead before he realized. Dueling was a way to test strength, but also left you vulnerable, dropping your hitpoints.
His two swords tumbled from his hands and clanged onto the stone street, ringing out a deafening metallic ping across the hushed audience, overcome with the shock of what they had just witnessed.
I’ve made a terrible mistake, I thought. I was now in the center of the crowd beside the fallen rouge. Caught in the open between two of the most insidious PKers and a throng of unpredictable players, I was standing in the open with my weapons out. I was their new target.
“Hey, and what does this one think he’s doing,” said Riss to Wurm, pointing his sword in my direction.
I held firm, not letting them intimidate me. I could take one. Maybe. But not both. I was in serious trouble. These guys were notorious pros.
“I don’t know,” said Wurm, circling around behind me, taking my flank.
Riss was the big one, an ogre. He had two large swords and wore prototypical ranger gear—dark green camouflage leather with iron bandings. If Riss was a bear, then Wurm was a wolf. Wurm smiled with a rictus grin, going from cheekbone to cheekbone, full of sharp cambion teeth. His leather was blood red, dyed with the blood he collected from his victims. Running with vampires, player blood was an object they could get in infinite supply.
It was all a setup. They had used Ruin to trick Sergius into a duel, and must have known he would wield both rare weapons. Then allowed Ruin to stall while wearing him down so they could use their track spell to appear behind him and finish him off, stealing his valuable gear. Ruin was gone, his end of the bargain complete.
Now it was just me. Stupid, I thought. I was being stupid, and now I was caught in the middle.
I looked to the south, back to the clinic. That was safe ground, but to get there I’d have to move through the crowd, and there’s no way I’d outpace the bloodthirsty rangers. I had to face them. I had to try.
I didn’t have the ability to mist like Ruin did as a vampire. I also didn’t have the dexterity to hide in shadows on a bright open street. I would have to initiate the fight with a standard attack. Or be attacked first. I wouldn’t be able to bring the damage to bear I would need. I needed to think fast.
Kicking off with all my strength, I lunged at Riss. It was kill him or be killed. Riss was specced for damage, not defense. If I could remove him first, I could possibly weather Wurm while I came up with an escape plan.
Before my weapons landed, Riss was gone. He had cast his track spell. Dammit, I thought. Wurm had group tracked them, and Riss had used his own track spell to appear beside Wurm. Now they were both behind me. And I was wide open. The game was over.
Spinning around I readied my weapons defensively, prepared to take lethal damage from the four weapons wielded by the two rangers.
But it didn’t happen.
Sly had darted in the way. He looked over and shot me a reassuring smirk. He had managed to block the attack from Riss with his own weapon, a glass dagger. It was the only weapon he used. They were incredibly fragile, lasting only a few rounds, but for an assassin, they were deadly effective. Unfortunately, he didn’t get his backstab, and he was set to die right alongside me. He was a good friend. But just as foolish.
Sly managed to block Riss's attack, but Wurm connected. Two devastating slashes racked Sly’s side. He was at half health, staggered and bleeding. We were going to lose. And I was going to watch my friend die.
No. I wouldn’t let that happen.
Reaching into one of my bags, I pulled out the Daggermortis. I didn't know what this weapon did, or how much damage it may inflict. But it was the only wildcard that could change the outcome of this fight. It was an enormous risk, because if I died, I'd be handing it over to these jerks who would use it to slay more innocent players. Wielding it in my second hand alongside my new black dragon rapier, I dove at Wurm.
The look on his large, crooked-toothed ogre face was awash with as much surprise as my own. His health extinguished like a doused flame. I was fast. I was so fast. The Daggermortis, like Hellfex, was hasted. It’s what must have given him his unnatural speed. He wasn't a hasted perm, it was his hasted weapon. Now the speed was mine. My hands were like a deluge, an uncontrollable flood that leveled cities, but in this case, it was their health bars that toppled. I was a goddamn force of nature.
Landing attack after attack before Wurm could respond, he began stumbling backward, looking to Riss for help. But Riss was too busy dealing with Sly, who was near death himself.
I continued my assault, putting everything I had into it. Wurm locked his swords, taking a defensive posture. But it was meaningless. My quick, decisive thrusts gutted and impaled the ogre. He melted like wax, falling to the street before he knew what happened. His face was locked in an expression of shock. As surprised as I was.
Wurm was dead. I stood over him, and hunched like a maniac drunk on adrenaline, I turned to Riss. Sly was on his heels, moving back and defending as best he could. His health was nearly depleted, hanging on as best he could. I moved like water, a speed I had never experienced. It was like the world had slowed down just for me.
This time I did get my ambush.
Riss crumpled. He survived the initial damage, but not the next attacks that struck him from behind. No one could avoid me at this speed.
Returning my weapons to their sheaths, I held my arm out to Sly. He was on his back, just two hit points left to his name. Shattered glass littered around him, he was unarmed and defenseless. His eyes were wide, and he lifted up his arm and allowed me to raise him to his feet.
“Wha… what was that?” asked Sly. His voice was breathless, like he was caught in shock.
I began to laugh. As I wrapped my arm around Sly to steady him I looked out to the crowd. They were cheering. Just as amazed and elated as I was. Sly took my hand and raised it into the air. They applauded. They had never seen regular players like us defeat the PKers.
At that moment we were champions. Not just for ourselves, but for every downtrodden player who had been a victim of those assholes. I let the praise wash over me, and I beamed with pride. Sly shot me a look of joy and disbelief. We did it.
A slow clap formed in the crowd. And through it came Luxon, his hands coming together in a steady rhythm. Behind him came some of his guild members. I recognized some of them, Athena the mage, and Wolfram the fighter.
Luxon, as immaculate and stoic as he always was in his perfect white armor.
“Quite the performance, Curio. I’m astounded,” said Luxon as he approached us.
“Yeah, well, it’s no big deal,” I said.
“Nonsense. That was quite a feat.” Luxon looked back to his guild members, checking and measuring their looks. Athena looked distraught, while Wolfram gave me a supportive nod. “We were impressed by your performance last night at the Drakhold. How you managed to overcome that raid boss is still a mystery to us.”
“I had some help,” I said. I probably sounded a little cocky. I didn't try to hide it. It was Surewinter's help, and they knew it.
“Well,” said Luxon. “We’re in need of a permanent rogue fixture for our raids. One like yourself.”
I began to speak, but Luxon cut me off.
“Just hear us out. Why don’t you and your friend come to our guildhall and just see what we can offer. I’m sure it will be worth your time. I promise, there is no better guild in all of Abaddon.”
Sly looked suspicious, and his eyes shot from me to Luxon. He was still regaining his bearings after his near death experience.
Luxon smiled, his perfect white teeth sparkling—matching his armor. “We’d like you to join The Silver Web.”