Chapter 16

 

Hel watched the multiple holo displays in front of her, tentacles twitching in irritation.  The lich was not following the orders she’d given him nearly a year ago when she placed him on that planet.  He was wasting resources by attacking Invictus City.  Already hundreds of thousands of common undead and something like a score of adepts were lost.  Months of work thrown away for no gain. 

Even worse, she had a very real fear that Baldur and Odin would discover that she was responsible for the lich being inserted there during the planet’s Stabilization.  They had Loki in custody, and would be scouring his mind for information on such infractions.  If her father had discovered any actual proof of her involvement in this, or any of several other forbidden actions, and brought the proof to light, the System would deal harshly with her.

As ancient and powerful as her race might be, they were still subject to the System and its punishments.  Her punishment would be extreme, as the System would take into account her extensive knowledge of its workings, its rules, and the reasons for them.  Factoring in the wide-reaching consequences of her actions, the System would almost certainly end her mortal existence.

She didn’t fear that, though it would put an end to much of her fun.  No, what she feared was exactly what the human had threatened her father with.  The binding of her soul, or even its utter destruction.  Those who came before, who created the System to begin with, had long ago ascended.  They had the knowledge of how to do so, long before Hel’s race crawled out of the mud on their planet of origin.  They had passed that knowledge on to the System so that it could prevent those whom they would consider unworthy from ascending. 

That had been the single most terrifying thing she and her people had learned in their study of the System.  Until that point, they had come to believe that they were all-powerful, beyond the point where they might be held accountable for their actions.  Secure in the belief that they could simply abandon the mortal plane at will and explore a new existence as beings of pure thought and energy.  The realization that the System could deny them this, could hold them responsible for breaking its rules, had nearly led Hel to abandon her own rebellious and predatory lifestyle. 

She contemplated a safer, more sedate, life.  She already possessed great power, and nearly unlimited wealth accumulated over millennia, and could live in comfort for eternity. 

But what was the point?  She thrived on the excitement of breaking the rules.  Lived for the danger.  If she were to give that up, she might as well ascend.  Plus, what greater challenge could she ask for?  Her entire life she had competed against her father, the being known as the god of deceit and trickery.  The only higher challenge than outsmarting her father was beating the System itself. 

Which brought her back to the itch in the back of her mind.  As if the System were there, watching.  Poised to snap into action, to sever the thread of her existence.  And she couldn’t help feeling that the itch had something to do with the lich. 

It was supposed to have taken over one of the most heavily populated cities on the planet, packed it full of undead until dark magic permeated the very soil to such a degree that it would naturally spawn a dungeon.  She could then use access to that dungeon to her advantage, or take the core and do the same. 

The lich had been well on its way to completing that task when she’d diverted it to the west, and the human boy, Kyle.  That had been her mistake.  She’d done it for simple amusement, to throw another barrier at the human prince.  The derailment had changed the lich, given him a desire for vengeance, to repay the prince for the insult of defeating him.  Now it was wasting resources on a battle it wouldn’t win, while at the same time stirring up powerful forces.  Questions were being asked, investigations launched. 

Instead of a useful and profitable dungeon on an energy-rich new planet, the lich had given her a nervous twitch and an unending sense of unease.  The only thing stopping her from smashing its phylactery and ending its un-life was the fact that the sudden unexplained destruction of the lich would generate even more curiosity.  As it was now, there was a slim possibility that the lich could be perceived as acting on its own.  Having its string suddenly cut would end any speculation and trigger a search for whomever was holding the scissors. 

The intermediary she had used to locate and contact the lich was dead, along with the crew that had transported him to the planet, and anyone else even peripherally involved.  She had little fear that any new investigation could lead back to her.  But the fear that her father had already made the necessary connections ate at her.  He could reveal those connections under compulsion, or just to spite her.  And all it would take would be a declaration of the truth witnessed by the System.

Thus she was not in the least surprised when Baldur appeared in her lab, causing the mists to swirl as his anger collided with her alarm. 

“Odin wishes to speak with you, child.  Now.”

*****

 

Kuhns perked up when he heard laughter echo out from one of the tunnels to his left.  His team and their droids had taken down more than a hundred undead in the switching station, and were casually looting the corpses.  They hadn’t pursued the monsters into any of the tunnels, not having the necessary manpower.  More raid groups were on their way, along with more droids.  The raiders had been calling out any decent loot they received.  As with the old MMO’s, the undead were dropping items they never would have carried in real life.  Like when you would receive gold coins and maybe a chain belt from a murdered fuzzy bunny.  These mobs were dropping scrolls, weapons, and armor pieces as well as klax.  Kuhns himself reached down and touched the skeletal corpse of a woman wearing what was left of a Victorian era dress.  At least, he assumed it was a woman. He briefly imagined it might have been a man dressed as a woman as part of some scheme to lure and shanghai drunken sailors at the port. Or a casualty of a tragic cross-dressing Halloween party mishap.   Maybe a lothario caught in his lover’s boudoir by an angry husband, who grabbed what clothes he could before leaping out the window, forced to wear a dress as he slunk home through the dark alleys of 19 th century New York City.  There was no real way to tell.  In any case, the loot granted was decent – an uncommon quality spell scroll called Death’s Bane, a thousand klax, and two-handed longsword that glowed faintly green. 

He was about to Examine the sword to see what kind of enchantment it held when the laughter rang out.

Instantly, all the humans had weapons in hand, the loot forgotten.  The droids began to step toward the sound, shields raised.  Kuhns stopped them by calling out, “Everybody back up the stairs!  Take the same positions as before.”   The droids waited for the humans to gather and move up the stairs, following the last of them walking backwards with shields up.  As soon as they reached the top they formed two lines and hunkered down behind their matte black shields.  The humans readied their ranged attacks and waited.

The laughter ceased, and a dry, raspy voice echoed out of the second tunnel to their left.  “Humans.  Such primitive creatures.  So physically and mentally weak, so easily controlled.  You will all make fine additions to my horde.”

A single undead emerged from the tunnel, taking two steps into the room before stopping.  It wore a surprisingly clean blue robe with several arcane symbols stitched in red and black across the front.  In one hand it held a very clichéd sickle with a bone handle and a flat ebony blade.  Its other hand was wrapped around a tall, segmented bone staff that appeared to be made by several femurs fused end to end, with a human skull at the top, its eyes glowing green.  Kuhns cast Identify on the leathery talking corpse.

Necromancer Adept

Level 48  Elite

Health:  67,000/67,000

 

The adept opened its mouth to say more, but its head rocked back as an arrow blasted into the open mouth.  The raiders cheered as it fell backwards, the arrowhead and several inches of shaft sticking out the back of its skull.   One of the archers pumped a fist in the air, shouting “One shot, one ki-”  He didn’t finish the sentence, his mouth snapping shut as the adept sat up and grabbed ahold of the arrow near the fletching, yanking the arrow free amidst a shower of dusty flesh and bits of bone.   Using its staff, it regained its feet, shaking its head.

“You’ll have to do better than that.” The adept thrust its staff forward, and nearly the entire group of humans began to scream as their flesh and muscles seized and began to rot.  Kuhns, though he was feeling the same pain from the necrotic attack, had the presence of mind to cast Repel Undead atop his own group as he fell.  The light magic AoE didn’t cancel out the adept’s attack completely, but it did ease the pain and damage enough for the raiders to regain their senses.  Magic attacks rained down on the undead creature as its body sprouted several arrow shafts within seconds.  The group healer focused on bringing his teammates back up to acceptable health levels, while droids held their position. 

An ice bolt the size of a football slammed into the mummified face, shattering a cheekbone before penetrating deep into a brain that had long since gone to dust.  Fireballs sped toward the adept as columns of flame dropped upon its head.  Two stone spikes shot up from the floor, one in front, one in back, to cross tips as they impaled the creature through its back and gut, trapping it by forming a sort of x through its body.  Its health bar was dropping, quickly approaching fifty percent.

  Necromancer Adept

Level 48  Elite

Health:  39,300/67,000

 

Holding its hands out wide to either side, the undead creature laughed loudly at them.  “Your puny magics cannot kill me.  I am the horde!  I am legion !” it shouted as both hands made a flicking motion.  Instantly two streams of black energy appeared from two of the tunnels, one connecting with each hand.   His health bar shot back up to full as two zombies staggered out of the tunnels, following along the streaming dark magic threads.  They’d taken only a dozen or so steps before they crumbled and fell unmoving onto the floor.  Almost immediately more zombies began to emerge, from every tunnel this time. 

“Shit, he can steal their energy to heal himself.  There are hundreds, maybe thousands of them to act as batteries for him.  We can’t fight him like this!” Kuhns growled to his people.  After a moment’s thought, he added, “Ranged, keep pouring on the dps.  See if you can interrupt that self-heal thing.  Tanks, melee, with me.  Charge!”

The tanks wasted no time, activating a rush ability that sent them across the room in a flash, slamming both of their shields into the adept at the same moment.   Kuhns sprinted forward at superhuman speed, two melee fighters right behind him.  He was still holding the freshly looted sword, so he raised it over his head as he leapt the final ten feet toward the adept.  With a downward chop he severed the arm holding the sickle just below the elbow.  The adept screamed, more in anger than pain.  With its remaining arm it slammed the butt of its staff on the stone chamber floor.  Instantly Kuhns, the tanks, and the melee fighters were afflicted with the necrotic spell again.  Repel Undead was still on cooldown, and Kuhns had no other ace up his sleeve as he succumbed to the pain of rotting flesh and cramping muscles.  His legs failed him, and he fell to the floor.  His back arched so severely that only the back of his head and his feet were in contact with the floor, and he could hear his spine creak in protest. 

Over the screams of his team, Kuhns could hear the distinct sound of metal on stone as the droids charged forward.  Several attacked the adept, slamming shields into its body, striking it with spears.  The rest each grabbed a human and lifted them up before carrying them out of the dark spell’s radius.  Kuhns immediately felt better, or at least no worse.  He felt a heal wash through him a moment later, clearing his mind enough to cast a second one on himself.

As the droids slowly dismantled the lich’s body, surrounding it and chipping away at its health with physical attacks, the ranged raiders had shifted their focus to the incoming horde.  Each of the casters placed a vortex at the mouth of one tunnel, hoping to slow the advance of the undead reinforcements.  Fireballs sped down other tunnels, setting corpses on fire and illuminating just how many enemies were packed inside.  The tunnel nearest on their right was blocked with three stone spikes that impaled the leading zombies and caused a backup of moaning bodies.  Several more pressed in behind and impaled themselves, pushing the lead zombies further onto the spikes until one of them simply burst in half, its separated parts squelching onto the floor.   A cone of arctic air blasted into the tunnel, freezing the first several rows of mobs solid, creating an effective barrier for the rest.

The group was playing for time, doing their best to hold back the horde long enough to kill the adept.  The necrotic damage had worn off enough for the tanks and melee to recover.  The two tanks retreated back up the steps to protect the casters, while Kuhns led the two melee fighters around behind the lich.

Its body was heavily damaged, both legs missing great chunks of flesh, its face half gone, and its one remaining arm gripping tightly to the staff, which was the only thing still holding it upright.  One of the melee fighters dashed forward a few steps and dropped into a baseball slide, using his legs to knock loose the staff.  He screamed in pain the moment his legs came into contact with the weapon, both of them going ice cold and withering to desiccated flesh underneath his gear.

The adept, now without its support, dropped to its knees.  Kuhns wasted no time, swinging the two-handed sword.  The green glow of enchantment flashed brightly as it severed the adept’s spine, setting the head on fire with green flames even as it fell to one side. 

Most of the group leveled up from the adept’s demise combined with the many common zombie kills.   None of them could manage to reverse the necrotic damage to their comrade’s legs no matter which healing spell they used.  One of the tanks lifted him gently and carried him back up the stairs, placing him near the back of the group.

Without the adept, the horde pressing in on them from all sides was less motivated.  Those in the front who’d already taken damage, or been otherwise aggro’d by the raiders, continued to try to advance.  Those further behind at the back of each tunnel began to wander away in small clumps of two or three.  Not having the adept to deal with, Kuhns organized his group’s attacks to focus on one tunnel at a time while maintaining the ice, fire, and wind spells that were holding back the others.   He was surprised when a stone wall suddenly grew up to block one of the tunnel entryways.  Looking behind him, he saw a grinning earth mage waving his hands and creating a second wall.  Right behind him was a flood of nearly a hundred raiders.  Tanks moved down the stairs and formed a wall twenty shields wide in an arc that left room for melee fighters to fill in behind.  Casters and ranged dps covered the stairs and the platform above, while the healers watched their rear and took turns trying to restore the injured man’s legs with spells and potions.  A host of droids filled the tunnel behind them, waiting for orders. 

With more than enough firepower, they opened two tunnels at a time, allowing the bottled up zombies to advance into the chamber.  Few of them even made it to the line of tanks, a storm of magic and arrows filling the room and burning them down in record time.  Less than ten minutes later the room grew quiet again.  The droids advanced to loot the corpses and guard each tunnel entrance as the raid leaders put their heads together to form a plan.  They now had ten full raid groups, plus Kuhns’ group, which was still down a man.  Kuhns made the decision to send the afflicted man back to the tower with an escort of four droids, in hopes that one of the regeneration machines would be able to help him. 

Kuhns and his raiders would remain in the chamber with two more groups, who would help maintain barriers sealing off four of the tunnels.  The remaining eight groups were doubling up, two groups working together to clear each of the first four tunnels.  Once they were secured, they’d return and clear the other four. 

It wasn’t long before the other groups advanced into their assigned tunnels, and the sounds of battle resumed.  Kuhns, tired and more than a little worried, sat on one of the steps, munched on a stale granola bar as he stared at a nearby droid that was holding the adepts bone staff.  None of the humans had been willing to touch it after hearing what it had done to their comrade.   With a sigh, he finished his granola snack, downed a few swigs of water, and took a minute to assign his newly earned attribute points.

*****

 

 Allistor knelt in front of the knee wall on the roof of his chosen high rise.  His sniper rifle snug against his shoulder, the bipod stand’s feet sitting atop the wall.  He let out a long-held breath and kept his finger very still where it rested on the trigger.  Through his scope he watched a window in a mid-rise building ten blocks away, waiting for the adept within to show its face again. 

He didn’t need the sniper rifle and its super long distance scope for such a close target.  He could easily have made this shot with a standard hunting rifle.  But he wanted his first shot to be a kill shot, and the fifty caliber round that he was about to send downrange would, assuming he hit his target, turn its head into a splash of goo on the wall behind it.   One would also never normally fire such a round into a city building, as they had a tendency to go through the target, the wall behind it, and several more walls beyond.  The risk to innocent bystanders would be too great. 

But in this case, the only living things out there in the dead zone around his city were the non-living.   If he managed to pick off an extra zombie or two, bonus!

Allistor was having a hard time focusing.  He was uncomfortably aware of Melise sitting, slightly too close for his comfort, to his left.  And the bodyguard standing behind him, hand on the hilt of his sword as if just waiting to take Allistor’s head if he should accidently brush up against the elfess. 

Taking in another deep breath, he held it while he refocused on the crosshairs in his scope.  He’d spotted the adept while scanning the buildings, but it had moved out of his line of sight before he could fire.   So he scanned that and several nearby windows every few seconds, as well as the building entry below.  Though he’d grown up hunting, and had done more than his share of shooting since the apocalypse, he was no professional.  He needed the thing to remain in view for a solid five or ten seconds to be sure he hit it. 

Melise yawned, stretching her arms above her head, distracting Allistor to an even higher degree.  “This is not what I expected from a hunt, Allistor.”

He chuckled, still eyeballing the building downrange.  “I used to say the same to my father when I was a kid.  I wanted to be sneaking through the woods Elmer Fudd style, shoot a deer on the move with a perfect shot right through the heart.” He smiled fondly, enjoying the memories of time with his dad even as he felt the familiar twinge of loss.  “Instead we climbed up into a tree stand and sat there for hours, not moving, not talking, just waiting.  Like we’re doing now.  For a kid like me, that was almost torture.”

“Elmer…?” She questioned.

“Oh, right.  Elmer Fudd style.  He was a classic cartoon character. Uhm, make-believe.  An animated drawing.  Used to hunt a very clever bunny.  He’d tiptoe through the woods trying to sneak up on the bunny, then fire about a thousand shotgun rounds in all directions without reloading.  Not at all realistic, but it was funny.”

“Sounds… charming.” She was clearly just humoring him, but somehow he didn’t mind.

“If we ever get TVs or the internet working again, I’ll be sure and show you.” He offered.

“I believe I would like that very much.” She practically purred at him.  He stiffened, afraid that he’d somehow just asked her out on a date.  But all social awkwardness was forgotten as his target showed itself. 

It was now three windows east and one floor up from where he’d seen it before.  The adept was standing before the window, waving its hands at a tightly clustered group of undead making its way down the street below.   Allistor wasted no time, sighting in on its face and letting out his breath slowly, then squeezing the trigger.  The rifle bucked against his shoulder, the bipod legs leaving small scratch marks on the wall’s surface.  An instant later the adept’s head exploded before its body fell from view inside the room.  Down below on the street, the shuffling cluster of zombies slowed their march.  Several began to wander off down side streets and alleys. 

One down, who knew how many to go? 

Allistor continued to monitor their progress, waiting for another adept to notice the uncontrolled group and take charge of them.  This was how he’d found the adept he just killed.  It had taken over for the one he’d killed before that.   Since landing on this roof, they had taken down four more adepts. 

The shot had effectively halted Melise’s subtle advance.  She wasn’t pressuring him, exactly.  Her touch was much lighter than that.  She was making it clear that she was available and interested in him, while maintaining a carefully respectful and precise distance and acknowledging his recent loss, all without actually saying any of those things.  Her social skills were flabbergasting, and Allistor imagined her Charisma attribute must be about a zillion.

The fact that he was responding the way he was, consciously or not, made him feel guilty and a little bit angry.  With himself and with her.   He felt like enjoying her attention was a betrayal, and that he should be stronger.

There was a crash below, and Allistor shook his head.  The orcanin had quickly gotten bored and asked permission to descend into the building and clear it.  When that was accomplished, they’d decided it was necessary to clear all the buildings within a one block perimeter, to ensure Allistor’s safety.  He privately suspected that they were hungry as well as bored, and hoping for some tasty monsters to cook.   A quick glance at the two who’d stayed on the roof with him showed them peering over the edge with envious looks on their faces.  When one of them noticed his attention, he quickly straightened up and thumped his chest.  “Another excellent shot, another kill!” He flashed a tusky grin at Allistor, who grinned back in acknowledgement. 

They’d been outside the wall for four hours, and the suns would be setting soon.  Between the bored orcanin and his bored elf companion, he was convinced to give it a rest for the night.  “Alright, let’s recall all your comrades and head back.  We’ll come back out tomorrow and change things up a bit.  Maybe move along at ground level for a while.”

Both orcanin perked up at this.  They’d wanted to just bulldoze through the undead on the ground in typical orcanin fashion.  While they didn’t consider sniping from a rooftop to be dishonorable, it was certainly not their preferred method of killing.  One spoke into his wrist communicator while the other opened the roof access door and roared down into the stairwell.

Rekon obligingly called for the elven ship to retrieve them as Allistor got to his feet, then fought the natural urge to offer Melise a hand up.  L’olwyn had drilled into his brain time after time that he should never make physical contact with those of other factions.  Luckily for him, the nimble elf bounced to her feet and began stretching her legs before he’d had more than a second to feel awkward for not offering. 

As if sensing his angst, she flashed a bright smile his direction, then fluttered her eyelashes innocently as she asked.  “Can you demonstrate for me this hunting style?  This… tippytoe?”

Allistor snorted, then blushed slightly when he realized she was really asking.  Looking at the three serious and masculine bodyguards on the roof with them, he shook his head.  “Like I said, it’s… silly.”

“Oh, please.  I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep tonight, wondering about this Fudd.”

With a quick glance at the guards, and another to see if the rest of the orcanin were arriving through the access door, he shook his head in resignation.  “Alright, but just for a second.”   He closed his eyes, remembering the cartoon as best he could from his childhood.  Then, gripping his rifle in both hands, he raised up onto the balls of his feet and took several exaggerated, high-kneed tippytoe steps forward.  Laughing to himself as he got into it, he even turned and held a finger to his lips, saying, “Sssshhhh!”

He quickly quit his shenanigans when Rekon snorted and Melise giggled.  The two orcanin seemed confused and slightly embarrassed for him.

“That was wonderful!” Melise’s smile was wide and honest.  “Though I doubt you’d have much luck sneaking up on your prey like that.”

“Ha!  That was sort of the point.” Allistor moved back to kneel next to the hard case for his rifle, removing the scope and securing everything in place before returning it all to his storage ring. 

The orcanin arrived shortly before the Or’Dralon ship, and they quickly loaded everyone aboard.  Just ahead of him, Melise giggled again as she made a great show of tippytoeing up the ramp.  Allistor did his best not to notice the sway of her hips as she did so.

*****

Bjurstrom and McCoy sat on crates in the stock room behind the Invictus tower’s main kitchen.  They’d gone there to convince Sam to liberate a bottle of goblin brandy and join them in a toast to their lost friend and comrade.  The battle with the undead was about to move into its second day as midnight approached.  There would be time for formal memorials later.  Right now their people were rotating down off the wall to get some rest while others took up the fight against the unceasing waves of zombies.

“To Goodrich!” Bjurstrom raised his glass.  “He went out fighting, exactly as he would’ve wanted.”

“Goodrich!” Sam and McCoy raised their glasses as well before all three downed a shot of the brandy.  McCoy coughed, then spoke with a raspy voice as he thumped his chest with his fist.  “Woo!  Good stuff.”

Sam refilled their glasses, then held his up.  “Good stuff!”  They clinked glasses and emptied them again. 

McCoy sighed.  “Not many of us left from the original gang.”

“Yeah.” Bjurstrom looked down at his empty glass, then held it out for Sam to refill.  “You, me, and Andrea.  Redd.  A few of the desk jockeys.  The rest of the old guild are gone now.”

“For your guild!” Sam raised another toast.  Though he’d not been much of a gamer in his youth, he recognized that gamer guilds could develop into a sort of family.

As Sam refilled the glasses once more, Bjurstrom shook his head, a grin forming on his somber face.  Then he chuckled quietly to himself.

“What?” McCoy eyed him, knowing his longtime friend was likely having some completely inappropriate thoughts.

“I was just… thinking.  It’s kind of too bad the zombies ate Goodrich.  If we’d been able to recover his body, we could have fed him to the mama murder chicken.”

“Ha!” Sam roared, setting down the bottle to slap his knee.  “You are one sick dude.”

McCoy snort-laughed.  “Yaknow, I actually think he would have liked that.  He’d probably hope he gave her the runs, or something.  After that whole junk-biting incident, she was totally his nemesis.”

Sam raised his glass, waiting for the other two before downing the liquid.  “Amanda told me that Goodrich actually tried to bribe Nancy to make it grow back bigger when she used the regenerator machine thingy.”

Bjurstrom nodded.  “Oh, he bragged to everyone that she did it.  Threatened to smack people around with it.  He was totally full of shit, but it made people laugh.  We don’t laugh enough these days.”

The three men sat there in silence for a full minute or so before Sam reached out to refill their drinks with the last of the brandy in the bottle.  Raising his glass slowly this time, he clinked it against both of theirs.  “Goodrich, his junk, and laughter.”