“We’re almost there,” 664 said, glancing back at the rest of the group. “Not much further.”

“You said that last time!” 666 replied, hopping a step. His backpack, surprisingly whole, bounced up and down. “What's in this shit anyway? There is a lot more stuff than our supplies.”

“It’s parts for a Scout Tower,” 663 said with a grunt, and then went quiet.

“What for?” 666 asked. “What for!” He asked again, but slightly louder when 663 did not respond.

“Let the man breath,” 664 said with a disapproving glare.

“It’s...to map out the area. Device. The people. On horse. They’ll build it. And other stuff,” 663 said, and then wheezed. Glancing over as he caught his breath, the rest of the party did indeed see many people that did not belong to the army; scrawny men and old women were included within the bunch.

There was even a noticeably overweight man, though that might have been an illusion from all the different layers he had worn over his skin. A couple wagons were in the back, as well, presumably carrying the rest of the tools.

The rest of the party turned to face forward. It was difficult to walk while looking behind, but Nilbog kept his gaze stern and deadly. He could have sworn he saw someone with red-orange hair. Already he felt the needles prickle his skin at the thought. His eyes though couldn’t find it again; his short height and the moving horses prohibited sight.

“Watcha lookin’ at imp?” an ugly bastard behind Nilbog said. The man was big, wide, and with a dented skull. “You pickin’ a figh-”

Two dark, large green eyes. Vicious. Fiendish. They stared wide at him with unabiding intensity, from above a horse that was stiff with fear. Nilbog snapped his head forward, panting nervously.

Fuck fuck fuck she’s here. What does she have against me?

Nilbog glanced back, but he couldn’t seem to find her. There were hundreds of them--there was no way she saw him within the throngs. A trick of his eyes, she wasn’t looking at him.

“Scout Towers are one of Dlair’s specializations,” 663 began again. “We won it in the last Game, I think. It provides some type of map in the corner of your sight for their officers. It’s vital for tacti-” 663 said, and almost toppled over a depression in the road. Luckily, 664 reached in and caught him by his arm.

“Careful,” 664 said through clenched teeth. “We’re nearing the Mission area. Look, I saw some Ghouls in the forest.”

“Never thought I would look forward to seeing those ugly shits again,” Nilbog said. His own STM was not better off, and he really wanted to run away.

“Kids nowadays,” 666 began, shaking his head, “acting like they’re old grumpy men.”

“We’re here,” 664 said, stopping. All the other parties in front stopped as well, their eyes focused to their front.

A large force field bocked their path.

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You’ve entered a Mission area!

Hodlen’s Breach stands before you, shriveled and haggard. It is a lonely road cutting through the Forest of Nor’c, an area previously holding mundane beasts now harbors legions of vicious wolves, Ghouls, Ents, bearls, ogres, and everyone’s favorite fodder: Goblins of all shapes and colors.

Monster population is currently at 224%. Monster quantity and power are vastly increased. The roads are no longer safe. Experience and Growth are increased by 62%.

Level Requirement: 50 and below.

Difficulty Ranking: C-

“You guys reading this? We’ll get a boost in experience,” 666 said, with a wide grin.

“And will also be fighting against wolves, ents, and bearls,” the Rogue said gloomily.

“Looks like we’re taking a break,” 664 said, dropping his load on the ground gently. Everyone around them did as well.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” 663 began, dropping to the floor. “We’ll probably be organized. We’ll fight alongside other party memb--oh shit.”

Special Event: Interlude!

All prisoner parties will be teleported randomly to areas within Hodlen's Breach. A battle royal will occur. The edges of the forest will slowly dwindle via forcefield. The round will end once the final boss is taken down. 

Killing monsters and other parties will provide points. You will be rewarded based on how many points your party has accumulated, as well as your personal performance.

Hodlen’s Breach will be locked for the duration.

Teleportation will begin in 60 seconds. The fun part about this teleportation thing, is whether the counter started the moment you got to this part or whether it started the moment the notification pop-

“It’s a Hidden Mission!” 663 yelled. There were different types of Missions. Anyone could see the content of a normal Mission, but sometimes there were Hidden Missions. Once the secret requirements for the Mission are met, there was no avoiding it. Everyone would be forced into it.

And this one was a death trap.

Nilbog felt a distortion tug at his limbs. Panic ensued around him as he felt his body flicker. Yelling, screaming, and screeching were in overabundance. Horses panicked, and some people even attempted to escape. Slightly better off, Nilbog unfastened the weight at his back and retrieved his two daggers and dried jerky. The rest of his party did the same, with a mixture of curses and prays.

Nilbog smiled smugly; he was already used to demented situations occurring on everyday bases. The rest of his party was a bit younger than him, by twenty to ten years.

Player Killer Activated.

His ears perked up. Through the shouting and rabid chaos of a thousand men, Nilbog heard a boot push against the rigid dirt, a couple paces from him. He turned around, his eyebrows wide open as he saw her flying through the air, her hands outstretched and sharp. He could not move, could not change his blank facial expression as her hands tore through the air towards him.

Her eyelashes matched the color of her hair, something he only realized now.

He saw how the veins on her hand pushed against her skin, angry and stiff, inches away from his face. Her index finger reached towards his eye. He knew he had to move; something was odd about how it looked, about how it felt. It left behind a yellow fog as it moved. A skill of some sort, probably. Would it track him? Would it just kill him? What did she want from him?

And then he was gone.

***

Kara flew by weightlessly, rolling across the ground and throwing herself to her feet. She clenched her fists, cursing.

She was left standing in the field alone, surrounded by hundreds of backpacks.

He escaped. Again.

But not for long, you scoundrel.

Kara ignored the shouting of the officers behind her. She needed a quiet and safe spot.

It was time to test the limits of the Death Siren profession.