Steven
Lord OhZone surveyed the destroyed remains of the Circle compound's walls. The breach was wide and gaping, with debris strewn across the ground. He could almost feel his quest marker vibrating, urging him forward yet he hesitated, wary of the danger lurking beyond the wall. He knew that if he rushed in unprepared, there would be hordes of Circle minions waiting for him on the other side.
He eyed his raiders, still equipping their new gear, lacing new enchantments, and fine-tuning skillsets. From outside the raid, ever more players were making their way to join in, ready and eager to prove themselves in battle and add to the Lord's raid. His plan for them was simple: use these fresh faces as a wall of flesh to clear up to the next raid boss, letting the weak fall and adding those who survived into the fold.
"Fifteen minute bio break," he declared with authority and a timer popped up in everyone's interface, already counting down, "Then we're back at it. Anyone who wants to clear ahead is free to do so, just not as a member of the Taco Knights." He left as an ominous warning.
"So like we clear ahead now as an independent group, and then reparty up later?" asked one of the new arrivals, one Lord OhZone hoped did not last long.
"If you go ahead, you're kicked out of the guild." Lord OhZone spelled it out slowly for the slow learners, they were the one's most in need of instruction after all.
"Oh yeah, thanks, that's a lot more clear."
He was learning he needed to be more direct with this lot.
*****
The Circle
A Trio of orc commanders huddled together in the dim light of a fortress, their thick armor and fur coats clashing with the dull grey walls. Surrounded by discarded food and empty bottles, they sat around a large, wooden table playing cards. Snarls, grunts and creaking filled the air as they leaned in towards each other. Clinking glass bottles announced drinks being shared between them as a din of cackling laughter and triumphant cries rang out. The dealer was obviously cheating, but that was about expected.
A Goblin came running up, panting and with wild eyes darting around.
The goblin squeaked, "T-the gate is down! Intruders are coming!".
The closest of the three orcs, a one-eyed Orc Commander, didn't even looked up from his hand. "Do we look deaf? We heard the breach." he snapped without taking his eye off of his cards.
“Then why don't you do something!” The foolish goblin's words sparked an immediate reaction.
The one-eyed orc swung back his axe and threw it with such force that it whizzed just past the goblin, embedding itself deeply in the wooden wall behind him. The little creature scurried away in terror, barely escaping the blade by a hairsbreadth.
"I saw his hand, he's bluffing!" shouted the goblin as he scuttled around the corner, right as another axe thudded into the ground where he'd been a moment before.
The other two commanders upped the pot, while their one-eyed fellow growled in frustration.
All three Orc Commanders eventually revealed their cards, and with a cackle of victory, the cheat claimed the win again. The two defeated players hurled a couple of coins at him in disgust.
The one-eyed commander swiveled around to face his subordinate a table over, an orc with a surly expression. "You and the other seven get off your lazy ends and set patrols round tha camp. Ya ken take a squad of regulars each."
The orc hesitated, then met the commander's gaze head-on. "Sir, if we were to band together and assault the breach, our chances would be greatly improved-"
Without warning, One-eye flung another axe, which lodged itself in the orc's skull with a sickening thud, who collapsed instantly to the ground.
One-eye nodded at another officer, this one a scrawny goblin, who promptly saluted before scampering off with six others in tow.
The cheating commander reached for the deck and shuffled with anticipation, eager to take more of his hapless comrades' hard-earned gold.
*****
Patrol One lumbered up to the gate, a portent of death. The silence was only broken by the shuffling feet of the orc regulars and goblins, and the deep thudding of and ogre in mystic garb. An elite orc with a war-paint smeared face was flanked by his three Orc companions, seven goblins, and the ogre. The ground the tred was littered with Circle forces corpses, dried up and husk-like.
The ogre's beady eyes narrowed as he surveyed the gory scene before him. Withered and pale, their former allies lay strewn around them; their eyes dull and lifeless, punctured chests and crushed limbs. Their clothing was in tatters and but oddest of all was the lack of blood. "This doesn't seem like adventurer's work," he grumbled.
"No shit, Gothark," the officer snapped, "did they not teach you that in your fifth year at mage school?"
"You know I'm wearing this ridiculous garb because it was all they had in my size," Gothark retorted defensively.
"Then stop pretending to be a shaman and keep quiet," the orc officer huffed, scanning the area for any signs of danger. "But you're right, I don't like the look of this." He signaled for his squad to backtrack. "We're turning back and reporting."
"But the triplets said we were supposed to-"
The orc elite snarled, his face contorting with rage, "Gothark, if you were just a few inches shorter I'd slap you right out of that frilly robe!"
Gothark knew that wouldn't be the end of it, his boss had himself all wound up.
The orc officer turned to walk back, but couldn't help himself from adding "And if I hear another word from that ogre's mouth," the officer spat as he savagely kicked a goblin nearby, "you'll all get what's coming to you!"
The officer was leading the patrol back towards the triplets when they stumbled upon another lifeless pack of Circle minions.
"Hmm, must have missed these on our way in," the orc officer mused as they walked over the husks.
Gothark wanted to point out that one of the corpses held a banner with a three on it, much like their leader's six, but felt the goblin which had been kicked earlier giving him a malicious glare. He decided it best to keep his thoughts to himself.
*****
The straggling survivors of patrol four skulked through the dreary alley, their terror-stricken forms barely visible in the murky darkness. An orc scout at the head of the pack, sniffing for any signs of danger, was followed by three goblins with bulging eyes and an orc swordsman gripping his sword tightly. The screams from behind had suddenly ceased, replaced only by their frantic beating hearts and shallow gasps of breath.
Their officer had barked orders to reach the triplets, whatever the cost, before charging off towards the... thing. Their only hope was to reach the triplets in time and warn of the approaching terror.
The weary group pressed on through the alleyway, ever fearful of whatever lurked in the shadows. The scout would throw up his fist every now and then, claiming he heard something behind them. But each time it was just the wind howling through camp.
Once more, the calloused palm of the scout shot up, halting their advance. This time, however, there was no mistaking the vibrant green glow that peeked from around the corner. The glow seems to be alive, writhing and pulsating in a way that causes a deep sense of wrongness. The feeling surrounded them like a blanket of death as dread filled their hearts.
The goblins around him quivered in fear, their gibbering voices blending into a cacophony of panic.
"We gotta get out of here!" one of the goblins, their voice betraying a terror that could only be felt moments before the end.
"Slow-n-steady now" rasped the orc scout, "I'll find a way out this mess yet-"
Before another word could escape the scout's lips, a long limb of sickly green energy stretched forth from the darkness, seizing his leg with bone-shattering force and dragging him away.
The group scattered like rats in terror, but even their swift feet weren't fast enough; one by one they were seized and yanked away into nothingness until only the orc swordsman remained, running in sheer terror, his weapon all but forgotten at his hip.
Two panicked turns later, the swordsman screeched to a stop, trapped in a dead end. He spun around wildly, finally drawing his weapon and holding his blade out before him as if it could save him from the terror that lurked in the dark.
A figure began to advance upon him and he set himself to fight with every breath left in his body. To his surprise, he soon noticed that it was the orc scout limping towards him, his leg broken no doubt. "You nearly scared me to death," The swordsman muttered with relief, lowering his weapon.
The scout said nothing as he inched closer and closer, each step trailing his broken and twisted limb behind like some kind of grizzly trail. The closer he got, the more the swordsman started to feel uneasy; the scout's eyes burned an eerie green and there was something menacing in the air that sent chills down the swordsman's spine.
"You're still scaring me," The swordsman stammered as he backed away in horror, bringing his blade back to bear, unaware of the green lighting up the shadows behind him.
*****
"It's time," Lord OhZone sent a raid warning as the timer hit zero. He had the new arrivals grouped up by likelihood of survival.
"Raid group five and six out front, you're first through the breach. Time to earn your keep." He pushed the weakest to the fore.
"It's time," Lord OhZone sent a raid warning as the timer hit zero. He had the new arrivals grouped up by likelihood of survival.
"Raid group five and six out front, you're first through the breach. Time to earn your keep." He pushed the weakest to the fore.