Chapter 59 – Legacy Undone
“... and that’s why I think his legacy should belong to me.” The obese little halfling says as he crosses his arms and turns his nose slightly upwards. This little show of arrogance is quite common for the youngest of the three siblings, and for no good reason. The little boy has done nothing to earn any recognition in his life aside from being able to out-eat an orc. For him to try and claim himself as the sole inheritor of uncle Fabian’s legacy is an affront to his older siblings.
“A coward like you have no right to make such claims, Pote. If you don’t stop spouting this nonsense, I might have to show you why uncle respected strength above all else.” The eldest brother sneers. He takes a threatening step forward, cusping his fist with enough force to crack a few knuckles.
“Pfft. Really, Gens?” Pote says with a smirk. “Is using violence your answer for everything? Oh, how I long for the ages long gone, when a knight was supposed to be chivalrous and a protector of their betters, and not the common thugs they seem to have become now.”
“Why not let my fist introduce some chivalry to your face?”
“For the love of God, will you two shut up!? You’ve been going at it for hours. Give me a fucking break, will ya?” The final sibling says. “Pote, being the only one to follow in uncle’s footsteps and become a bard has absolutely nothing to say about which one us will succeed him. Stop being such a pompous prick and lose some god damned weight for a change. You look more like a potato every time I see you, and I’ve seen you far too often for my own liking these last few days.” She sneers.
The young halfling’s face turns beet red as he turns towards his older sister. A snarl is creeping onto his face and he is about to respond when Gens starts snickering. The sister isn’t quite yet done though.
“What the hell are you smirking at, Gens? Your head is as dense as Pote’s ass is fat. Would you mind putting on some fucking pants for a change? What sort of self-respecting knight is wearing no armor but a steel fucking chestplate coupled with a god damn freaking loincloth!? Are you fucking kidding me!? You’re a fucking disgrace to the family’s honor.” She shouts.
Gens’ smirk immediately drops and he scowls at his younger sister. “Don’t you dare question my honor, Sylt. Apart from uncle Fabian, no one has brought more honor to our family than I have. Noone. Just because you were smart enough to enroll in the magic academy doesn’t give you the right to speak down to me. I am still your older brother and I demand your respect.” He glares at his sister. She meets his gaze and the two butts head as they try to stare the other down.
“Tssk, you two couths are cut from the same cloth.” Pote says after a short while. “Sister, your mouth is as foul as Gens’ temper. If the two of you had even half of the etiquette and decency that is required from someone of our position, we might have elevated our family to a higher standing. You two are weighing me down, and I think it’s time for me to ask for you two to step aside and let me claim the mantle as the sole inheritor of uncle’s legacy.”
“Shut your fat little dickhole!” Sylt shrieks.
“Over my dead corpse.” Gens says through gritted teeth.
The three starts glaring at one another, each and every one moving their arms towards their chosen weapons. Pote is tugging at the strings of his lute, sneering at his two siblings while Sylt grabs her staff, channeling her mana through the earth-crystal embedded at the top. Gens grasps the hilt of his steel claymore, the metal scraping against the side of his steel chestplate. This standoff is a common sight for those who know the three siblings, and it is not uncommon for the three to battle one another in public. That’s why they are banned from half the taverns in town after all.
The standoff is soon broken, however, as the wooden door is opened with a creak. Their heads snap towards the unexpected movement, and their muscles untense as they spot a couple of gravekeeper assistants enter with a cart loaded with two coffins. Remembering where they are, the three quickly abandon their thoughts of combat and straighten out into the noble postures expected from someone of their position.
The two assistants aren’t saying anything though, and they push the cart as quietly as possible past the three bickering siblings before they unload it near the back wall. Their movements are quick and somewhat mechanical, and the pair doesn’t seem to care about the awkward atmosphere that is permeating the room. Their grim task doesn’t take long, and as silently as they appeared, the two gravekeepers hurryingly walks out the door they came from, not even bothering to shut it more than halfway. The three siblings stand still for a moment, waiting for the sounds of their footsteps to disappear down the hallway.
“Look at what you two savages made us do.” Pote sneers. “The only way we could have looked more unbecoming would be if we were drenched in goblinshit.” He spits.
“If one more word comes out of your mouth, little brother…” Gens says coldly.
“Will the both of you shut the fuck up!? I’ve had it up to here with your-” Sylt stops herself as she catches an odd glint coming from the half-open door. She narrows her eyes as she tries to spot whatever could have made that glint. It almost looked like the torchlight reflecting off a smooth metal surface. Her eyes go wide with realisation. “Mudwall!” She screams as she unleashes her magic, a thick wall made of mud erupting from the ground between the three siblings and the open door, just in time to intercept the two crossbow bolts that came soaring towards Pote’s exposed back.
The two brothers spin around, bewildered at the sudden movements. The mudwall starts to sag, and they soon spot the two bolts sticking out of it.
“Archers!” Gens shouts as he draws his claymore. “Pote, strengthen me. I’ll deal with them.” He shouts while starting to run towards the door.
“Wait!” Sylt snaps. “Don’t run off like a fucking idiot. You don’t know how many of them there are.”
Gens stops in his tracks and gives his sister a quick glare over his shoulder. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He says cooly. His moment of hesitation is enough time for another two bolts to shoot from behind the door, one of them bouncing harmlessly off his steel breastplate, while the second one embeds itself in his thigh.
“Ow! FUCK!” He shouts in pain as he reaches down to grab the arrow. With a vicious curse, he pulls the arrow from his thigh, a spray of blood trailing it through the air.
“I told you to put on some fucking pants… Now shut the hell up and get behind cover. I got this.” Sylt snaps while conjuring a pair of mud spikes that hovers above her outstretched hand. With a flick of her wrist, she launches the spikes towards the doorway. As soon as the spikes cross the door’s threshold, she sends forth a surge of mana, causing the spikes to explode, sending sharp pieces of stone to tear apart anything on the other side.
Still, she can’t hear any shouts of pain even though she is certain she must have hit whoever is hiding behind that door. “I can do this all day, assholes.” She shouts with confidence.
Several moments go by while waiting for a response that doesn’t seem to be coming. She is about to launch another pair of spikes when the door slams open and half a dozen men and women clad in leather armor burst into the room. “Fucking brigands!” She sneers. “Kill them all!”
Gens charges from cover with his claymore raised above his head. Pote starts chanting a hymn, and Gens’ sword gains a soft red glow. He slams his sword downwards, completely shattering the guard of his half-orc opponent, but a second half-orc swings his short sword wide, forcing him backwards. Meanwhile, Sylt spots a human and a gnome wielding daggers trying to flank her older brother.
“Quicksand!” She shouts, magic flowing from her body. It shoots towards the ground beneath the two rogues, causing the floor to soften into a thick sludge which causes their legs to sink down to almost their knees. She gets no time to celebrate her successful spell, however, before another pair of bolts are flying towards her.
“Shit!” She mutters, trying in vain to raise another mudwall to intercept the bolts. She twists her body sideways which allows her to prevent the bolts from striking anything vital. The bolts still hit, however, and they pierce her shoulder and upper forearm. She dives for cover behind her newly raised mudwall, trying to get an overview of the battlefield. Gens is fighting the pair of sword-wielding half-orcs at the center of the room. He is clearly the stronger fighter, and the half-orcs are only keeping up with him because of their ranged support. Pote, however, is hiding behind the first mudwall she raised, shaking in fear. “Pote, you fat piece of shit! If you don’t start helping, I’ll chop your dick off and make you swallow it!”
Pote flinches at his sister’s words, somehow managing to find enough courage to peek out from cover. The moment he does though, a translucent mist strikes him in his face, causing his body to slump together.
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“Goblin’s balls! They have a Mage!” She curses, starting to form another pair of mud spikes. Without looking, she launches the spikes towards the spot she remembers locking down the two rogues. Soon after, the sounds of spikes splitting flesh reach her ears as she grins in satisfaction.
“We can win this! Keep hitting them! Pote! Get your fat ass off the ground and help Gens!”
The sounds of battle are spreading across the room as both sides fully commit to fighting one another. The two crossbowmen seem to have retreated behind the door again. Wrong move. Sylt pulls a large amount of mana from her body to create a thick mudwall which covers the entire doorway. Without the ranged support, the three siblings are starting to force the remaining enemies backwards, one step at a time.
With the cries of battle raging, however, Sylt fails to hear the faint sounds of wood hitting stone coming from somewhere behind her.
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Fuck! She can do that!? I mentally slap myself as the mudwall erupts from the ground behind me, cutting off both our escape path and my two Prowlers. Shit. This is bad. I was counting on controlling the battlefield using my two ranged units, but that particular plan just went down the crapper. The battle is already starting to shift in favor of the three elite halflings. At least I managed to slip into the room during all the chaos to conceal myself behind this sarcophagus. All the good that does me right now. My Calm spell just proved to be utterly useless against even the weakest of the enemies.
It isn’t going the way I planned, but it hardly matters anymore. We already bought them enough time. I grin.
The enemy mud Mage is rallying her two siblings and the wicked grin on her face signals that she is certain of their victory. I restrain myself from gleefully mocking her as I watch the one hundred kilos of pure muscle that is Cobra charge forwards, tackling the unsuspecting Mage from behind. I can see the look of shock flash across her face as she is thrown forwards, slamming face-first into the cobbled stone floor. Ouch. That ought to hurt.
I chuckle at the sight. I’ve gotta say, I didn’t expect the trojan casket trick to work, but I’m sure glad it did. Getting past that knight would have been a pain otherwise and the Mage has already proven herself to be a deadly damage dealer. With her wrestling Cobra on the ground, I have enough time to further incapacitate their support.
Cobra was not the only underling I snuck behind enemy lines, and my dwarven Thug is already madly dashing towards the obese bard. She raises her short sword, pointing it at his exposed backside. She is about to plunge it deep into the bard’s back when he suddenly yanks on the strings of his lute. A sharp C3 pierces my eardrums, and my tinnitus sets in as my underlings and I desperately grab hold of our ears. I fight the urge to drop to my knees as my vision starts to get cloudy. What kind of skill is this!?
My disoriented state ends after what feels an hour later, but in reality is more like five seconds, and I desperately try to get an overview of the situation. My eyes are drawn towards the epicenter of the skill and my stomach drops as I see the Bard hovering above my crouching Thug, readying up what I can only assume is one hell of a nasty follow-up skill.
I don’t have time to shout a warning before his fingers start tugging on the strings, and a wave of sound resonates throughout the room as he starts playing a violent tune. A weak golden glow emits around the three siblings, and the Knight roars in anger as he resumes his onslaught on my two half-orc thugs with vicious abandon. His strikes appear to grow faster and stronger as my two half-orcs are visibly struggling to keep the claymore-wielding halfling at bay. Geezes! What kind of music is that guy infusing into his steroids!?
My eyes quickly wander over the room, dreading to see what the powerful buff did to the greater danger in the room: the mud Mage. A breath of relief escapes my lips as I watch Cobra keep the squirming Mage pinned to the ground. Lucky. It seems like even a massive buff to her power isn’t enough to allow for her to compete with my Lieutenant in a hand-to-hand brawl. I grin. This won’t last much longer.
My two Prowlers are working hard to tear down the mudwall separating them from the fight, and they have already knocked down a large chunk of it. One of them has already resumed firing at the enemy halflings, and the Bard is cowering behind my still incapacitated dwarven Thug.
A furious roar echoes through the room as the Knight’s claymore starts to glow ominously red. Sensing the danger, my two half-orc Thugs throw themselves backwards just in time to dodge the large sword cleaving through the air at the same spot their heads rested a few seconds earlier. The Knight sneers at his missed opportunity to level the playing field, but he quickly makes use of the breathing room he created to turn on his heel and dash towards the back of the room.
“GET OFF MY SISTER YOU FILTHY SAVAGE!” He shrieks as he raises his Claymore. Cobra looks upwards just in time to see the large Claymore descending towards his head. With no options left, he raises his arm to block the incoming blow, but it’s not enough as the Claymore cleaves his arm in two, burrowing deeply into his shoulder. A knot ties in my chest as I watch his health bar descending into dangerously low levels.
The Knight sneers as he stares down the still living Lieutenant. A pair of bolts fly through the air, bouncing harmlessly off his steel chestplate. The halfling glances at the two Prowlers over his shoulder, and that is all the distraction my Cutthroat needs as he slides in from the side, cutting into the Knight’s Achilles heel. The halfling cries out in pain as he takes a step backwards, his leg failing him and he tumbles to the ground. My two half-orc Thugs aren’t far behind, and they quickly throw themselves over the now disarmed Knight, piling on top of him.
The Bard is attempting to pull off another skill, but his eyes soon go wide in horror as my second Cutthroat appears behind him, stabbing her dagger deep into the side of his chest. The dagger penetrates through a thick layer of armor and fat, but it’s not enough to put any mentionable dent in his health pool. Luckily for me though, with his siblings incapacitated and him having no offensive capabilities, we have all the time in the world to slowly whittle his life down.
I grin. This is my win.
From my lips to whatever ingame deity this game has’ ears, an angry shriek comes from the fallen mud Mage. “You goddamned maggots! I refuse to- Hnnng! Argh!” With a final grunt, I watch in shock as a ripple of magic moves across her body, followed by her skin gaining a sickly brown tinge. What the fu-. The thought only manages to flash across my mind before her entire body dissolves into a thick puddle. Cobra collapses on top of her, drenching his clothes in the gravy-like substance. The puddle does not stay still for long though, as it starts to drift towards the exit at a rapid speed.
“How the… Stop her!” I shout, and my underlings quickly respond. Two crossbow bolts slam into the puddle with little effect, and my dwarf who just recently regained her wits throws herself at the puddle, sword first. The blade sinks into the mud, but nothing appears to happen. The mud just slithers past the blade as if it wasn’t even there to begin with, getting ever closer to the exit. Holy shit! Is she immune to physical damage or something!? How the hell do I fight that with my skill set? The only thing I have is… Oh, fuck it. I don’t have time for this.
I conjure my mana as the translucent mist gathers around my arms. I jump out from behind cover and launch my Calm spell at the fleeing puddle. This better work…
The spell slams into the puddle, and to my great surprise, a ripple of magic surges through the puddle, halting its advance. The puddle starts shaking violently for a second before the female’s body is flung into the air, her magic apparently broken by whatever my spell did. Her body soon hits the ground with a thump, her lifeless eyes rolling into her skull. Shit. Is that spell backlash after failing to cast a high-level spell? Fuck. That happened to my Necromancer once. Hurts like a bitch.
“Kill her before she wakes up!” I order my nearby underlings, not envying the unconscious Mage. The dwarven Thug and the gnome Cutthroat responds, and the two quickly descend upon the already battered body of the mud Mage. It only takes two quick strokes to end her life.
[You have slain Halfling Elite Mage - Sylt(13). Gain 80 experience.]
That’s one down. Two more. I turn to look across the room at the remaining battles still taking place. My eyes are drawn towards the Bard, and for a split second, our eyes meet. Fear is spread across the tiny Bard’s face, but it’s soon washed away as his eyes drift towards the cold body of his older sister.
“Sylt!” The Bard bellows, his voice breaking. “You animals!” He roars in pain as his arm reaches for his lute. I get a sinking feeling in my chest as I watch his fat fingers pull on the strings.
“Stop him!” I bellow, but it’s already too late. The sharp C3 note is once more cutting through the room as I grab for my ears. A jolt of pain shoots through my head as my tinnitus makes its reappearance. My vision starts to swim, but I soon regain my bearings; much quicker than before. There must be a penalty for the Bard to use the skill in quick succession. I look back towards the Bard, and my eyes widen as I watch him sprinting directly towards me, fiddling on the strings of his lute.
“Doppelganger!” I instinctively shout, and the room blurs as I swap spots with my dwarven Thug. I swivel around just in time to see my Thug lash out with her sword, cutting deeply into the chest of the running Bard.
“Gah!” He yelps in pain. The sword cut him deep, and I can see his health bar dropping. It’s not enough to stop him, however, and he rushes past the dwarf, making a beeline straight towards the exit. My two Prowlers unleash another round of bolts, but they are unable to stop the morbidly obese Bard as he charges past them, obliterating the remainder of the mudwall as he goes. My dwarf starts running after him, but I quickly order her to stand down. He won’t get far.
Only seconds after he disappears from view, a loud shriek of pain echoes from down the corridor before it is quickly cut off.
[You have slain Halfling Elite Bard - Pote(12). Gain 70 experience.]
I solemnly shake my head. It’s a pity I had to waste five of my traps to end him, but I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry.
[You have slain Halfling Elite Knight - Gens(13). Gain 80 experience.]
[Cheap Shot has leveled up to Novice 9.]
[Doppelganger has leveled up to Novice 9.]
And that makes three. It wasn’t a pretty fight, but it paid off. I have to say though, the developers did a pretty decent job designing these NPCs. Their interactions and reactions during the fighting felt all too real. A bit too real. I’m not sure if I could have stomached killing them just a few days past. It’s funny, really, how I got this used to murder innocent computer programs. This game really feels too realistic sometimes.
No matter. I know it’s still a game. I can easily see how weaker minds could be affected by these moral dilemmas, but that’s really not any of my concern. There are worse things I could do to become powerful. Real things with real consequences. Killing pleading virtual characters and stealing their stuff is just normal behaviour for a video game character. All video game heroes are in reality thieving, murdering sociopaths after all. It’s just a matter of perspective. We all know it’s true.
Now. Let’s see what this halfling’s legacy is worth...