Riven.
2:03 a.m. 10th Maha, 1092.
Crackle! Boom!
The heavens exploded with drums of war, galvanizing the soldiers on the earth who danced to their maddening tune.
The streets of Riven piled with bodies of the damned as the fierce war raged on, neither side willing to give an inch. The Riven soldiers, vitalized by the promise of victory, fought like men possessed, ripping through enemies they'd once found terrifying.
The drakuls responded with defiant roars as they morphed to hulks. Their blows mashed metal and bone, reducing several Riven soldiers to naught but bloody mush.
Into this maelstrom of madness and blood walked a hooded mage clad in red armor, wielding an ancient magic staff. His name was Absalon, and like the man he was named after, he was a creature of war.
"Raah!"
Three drakuls charged the newcomer, weapons at the ready.
Absalon looked at the warriors with disdain. "Worms." The mage snorted and then raised his right hand.
Woong!
A mandala appeared beneath a drakul's feet. Boom! A suction force pulled the drakul to the ground. The remaining drakuls flanked Absalon and attacked from either side.
Clang!
The dumbfounded drakul stared in shock at he revolving mandalas that had blocked their strikes.
Absalon glanced at the drakuls. "[Repel]"
Boom! An explosive force sent the drakul crashing through the walls of a nearby building.
Absalon returned his attention to the drakul trapped on the ground. The drakul's companions watched helplessly as debris levitated off the earth, hovered over, then crushed it.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, ice spears zipped through the resulting smoke.
Absalon's gaze remained even, however, as the spears crashed into a mandala. Tak! Absalon tapped his staff against the ground. Shin... As if lifted by invisible strings, weapons floated off the ground and then began floating around him.
Just at that moment, a host of drakuls burst through the smoke.
Absalon sidestepped the first attack and then tapped the drakul with his staff. He half-assedly parried the blow of the second, causing it to stagger forward under the lack of resistance. He spun around and hit its back, then struck the third in the stomach with the butt of his staff before it could bring down its sword. As the drakul doubled over, Absalon righted it by smashing its chin upwards. He then rubbed a circle on its exposed mid-riff.
"General!" "Watch out!"
Cries from behind alerted Absalon to the returning attacks of the two drakuls he dodged.
"[Implode]." Absalon said. The drakul froze in place as mandalas appeared where Absalon touched them. Boom! The drakuls were blasted onto the onrushing drakuls. The collision tripped the first wave, but three brutes wielding large axes jumped over and swung down at the commander.
Clang!
Sparks shot out as the weapons crashed against an invincible shield.
Absalon's heated gaze glared at the brutes through the sparks. "Kneel."
Crash!
Through no will of their own, the brutes let go of the weapons. Thud! And then, a tremendous gravitational pull forced them to their knees. The brutes struggled to stand, but all efforts proved futile.
Shing!
Absalon took one of the swords hanging beside him. He stepped forward and slowly sunk the blade into a terrified brute's heart. An eerie smile corrupted the red mage's features as he watched their expression twist from fear to realization. He repeated the motion with the other two, unchallenged by the other drakul paralyzed by fear.
"Bastard!" Three drakuls screamed in agony and rage, and like trapped mice, put up one final struggle. They condensed their energies and fired a contracted mana stream at Absalon.
Bang!
Unfortunately, not even the drakul mages could break through that barrier
Absalon regarded them with eyes devoid of interest. "Enough. This is no challenge."
With a flick of his finger, the hovering weapons shot forward. The drakul cried out as the projectiles tore through them.
Absalon tightened his fist. BOOM! The weapons exploded within their hosts. He alone emerged from the fog of smoke and dust, eyes scanning the battlefield. "'This is not the pressure I felt. Where are you?"
Above the red mage, a daeben paused to look at the column of smoke. "Nice. Seems we've got a strong one."
The daeben turned to the drakul running at him. "Sorry," he said as he nocked an arrow, "I don't have time for this."
Three arrows tore through the rain, and then lightning illuminated the Hopeful Maggots insignia on the arrowheads as they bore holes in rows of drakul.
Their sender jumped over the collapsed bodies, and then continued running.
Shadow, Craig, and the volunteers met up with Leila's group just as Jero and his group returned from their end.
Leila took stock of the status of both teams and was pleased to see they'd lost no one. "Where is Kashi?"
Shadow sheathed his daggers and then reported as he walked to his sister's side, "He got held up."
"Fear not," Craig said to allay the group's fear. "He chose to stay behind. He said he would catch up with us."
Leila nodded. "Okay, then. Time to move on to the next phase."
"Wait," interrupted Lunette. "We're not waiting for him?"
"There's no time," replied the interim leader. Leila equipped her bow, eyes scanning the palace roofs for any guards."He'll be fine. Men like him don't die even if you stab them."
The odd phrasing raised Lunette's brow. "Okay. I'm ready when you are."
Leila turned to Hektor. "Are you ready for your part?"
The brawler tightened his grip on his double-headed ax, a sickening grin revealing his excitement. "Was born ready."
"Good," Leila confirmed. She met the eyes of everyone present, confirming their resolve. Pleased with the light in their eyes, Leila raised her right hand. With clenched fists, she pointed at the castle. "Commence Operation."
"HUOOO!"
Hektor's battle cry rivaled the heavens' as he jumped onto the roof of a castle tower. He dug his fists into the roof to slow his descent, then jumped off. He curled into a ball, spinning as he continued his decline, the white of his blade blurring into a single circle with each revolution.
The drakul patrolling the castle courtyard never knew what hit them.
BOOM!
Hektor's ax slammed into the ground with the force of Thor's hammer. The ground cracked and then burst upward. The resultant shockwave sent drakuls flying in every direction, and smoke belched from the cracks shielded the courtyard from sight.
Vwhoosh!
A second later, harsh winds from within the smoke burst out, clearing the air. Its manipulator rested his ax on his shoulder, eyes, and hair the color of blood. He stomped the earth and declared in the loudest voice. "D name's Hektor! D man who'll earn d title, "God of War.' Come on out, sacrifices to my path!"
"Filthy human!" cried drakuls as they poured out of the woodwork in droves.
"Heh. Come!"
Boom!
Before Hektor could make a move, however, pillars of dust exploded around the red-haired marauder, with dismembered drakul dropping to their feet.
"Trying to steal the spotlight, Hektor?" Iason asked as he pulled his lance from a corpse.
To his left, Jero released the drakul whose head faced an improbable angle. To the right, Narkis and Alex were soaked with blood from the dismembered bodies around them.
"Sit back, ol' man," Hektor mocked, stepping in front of Iason. "Dis fight is mine."
Iason laughed, lance at the ready. "I know you're not talking bout me."
"Leave it, kid," Jero chided. "We have company."
Drakul poured into the courtyard, weapons at the ready while their comrades trained arrows at the four invaders from a floor above.
"Surrounded, cornered with no place to go."
"Just like old times, then."
Fwish!
Thirty arrows whistled as they ripped towards their targets, but they never hit.
Narkis and Alex placed the hilts of their swords together, then rotated them till the blades were invisible. The twins hopped onto Ian and Hektor's forearms, from where they were launched in opposite directions towards the incoming arrows.
The rotating blades scattered the projectiles as they flew towards the higher floor.
Narkis seized the rotation, then cut through bow, helmet, and bone as he beheaded an archer. Opposite him, Alex sunk his sword into a lizard's shoulder, stabbed another in the stomach, then spun around and beheaded both of them. Like unstoppable forces of nature, the twins mowed through hordes of drakul.
Blood rained down on the courtyard, the anguished cries of the fallen echoing in the night.
Hektor grew tired of waiting, so he charged. The drakul collectively thrust their spears at him. Skrrr! Hektor's axe sparked against the ground as he slid on the ground. With a burst and a shout, he rose. He cleaved a drakul in half, repositioned his grip, and then slammed his ax through bodies to the ground.
Bam!
The force was so great the ax got stuck. Rather than struggle, Hektor let go.
Bam!
Hektor blocked a sneak attack with his right gauntlet, pushed its wielder back, ducked under another, punched its wielder's chin, then caught the sword arm of another over his shoulder and tossed it over him. Dashing forward, he yanked the ax free, and then, with a full swing over his shoulder, cleaved through sandwiched drakul.
Beside him, Iason stabbed a drakul in the heart, then palmed the end of his spear. It ran clean through, impaling two more. A mace struck at him from the back. He deftly sidestepped the blow, leaving his left leg in the drakul's path. It tripped. He grabbed the back of its head and slammed it into the handle of his spear.
Iason then wrestled the mace from the drakul's hand, parried a strike, smashed another drakul's face in, then spun around and flung it right into the head of another. Shlick! With a flick of his wrist, Iason retrieved his spear and then quickly dispatched three more.
Surrounded on all sides, Jero parried strike after strike of his attackers. He wove between their blades, dodging their blows by a hair's breadth. Once he had their attack patterns memorized, he feinted a block. Stunned by the feint, the drakul overswung.
Jero escaped through the brief opening and sliced open the drakul's neck. He then pushed the corpse to its mates and dispatched the rest with ice-cold precision.
The warriors fought hard, but even as they fought, the drakul only increased in number. It began to seem like numbers would win out in the end. Just then, battle cries rung out above.
The drakul looked up to see the volunteers falling towards them, weapons drawn. The reinforcements tore their way through the drakul, energized by their deputy's displays.
And so the battle for the castle intensified.
5th floor,
Royal Castle.
Elsewhere, Paris and Leila led the players through the castle's corridors illuminated by forest-green magelights.
They pulled to a stop above a flight of stairs leading to the fourth floor.
Drakul scurried back and forth on the floor as they ran to provide reinforcements to the warriors at the courtyard.
"Lunette," Leila beckoned.
"On it," replied the bard. Lunette cupped her hands over her lips and then yelled: "Over here, you overgrown lizards!"
The drakuls froze, then turned to the direction of the voice. A repeated shout had them running in the opposite direction.
"Neat trick," Stryke praised.
Lunette nodded, smiling in appreciation. "Thanks. It's called [Projection]."
With the guards removed, Paris motioned led the infiltration party down the stairs.
Unfortunately, two drakul had decided to wait behind. On spotting the intruders, they attacked.
"Leave this to me," Stryke said as he dashed forward.
Clang!
Stryke blocked both drakul's strikes with his shield. He jumped, knocking them back, then kicked them both in the chest. Bam. The little knight fell on his back while the drakuls staggered backward.
Recovering quickly, the first drakul struck at Stryke. The little knight rolled out of the way, and onto his knee. He spun around, smashed the drakul's sword, and finally shielded an attack from the second. Adrenaline in overdrive, Stryke stabbed the second in its legs, then bashed it with his shield as he got to his feet.
The first realized it had lost its weapon and thus turned to run.
Brack!
Stryke's thrown shield crashed into the base of its neck, resulting in a terrible fall. Stryke then spun around and used the momentum to cleave off the neck of the second drakul.
Splat!
Blood from the drakul's neck splashed on the little warrior. Stryke, however, ignored it and slowly walked over to the fallen drakul. He lifted his shield from the drakul's side and then silently slid his sword into its skull.
Pa! Pa! Pa! Pa!
The young knight looked up to a sound of applause from his teammates. His original teammates were especially impressed, considering how much he had improved since they started the game. It had gotten to a stage where they could easily rely on him for the vanguard role.
Overwhelmed by the praise, a blushing Stryke scratched the nape of his neck.
"Watch out!" Yuna cried as a magic circle formed around the young knight.
Clang!
Stryke's heart nearly jumped out his chest when arrows crashed against the magic barrier.
Fwoosh!
Another set of arrows flashed past, this time from his teammates' side. Stryke turned to see three drakul clutching their chests in pain.
Sara ran past him. Her fists glowed pink as she delivered a crunching blow to the first. The force sent it flying several feet backward. Her feet burned as she punished the others with roundhouse kicks to their faces. Her boot dented the helmets and buried their heads in the walls.
Dropping her bow arm, Leila patted Stryke's as she walked past. "We're in enemy territory. Never let your guard down."
"Got it," Stryke conceded. "Thanks for the help."
"Don't thank me. It was Yuna's timely ward that spared your life."
Stryke turned to Yuna, a broad grin on his face as he made a V with his fingers. "Hehe. Seems I owe you one."
Yuna blushed, tightening her grip on her staff. "I-it was nothing special."
"Not at all," Paris said, patting her head. "He is right to be grateful. Saving a man's life is no small feat. Isn't that right, Stryke-kun?"
"Exactly."
Smiling, Paris led them down another flight of stairs, deftly silencing all enemies they encountered. He stopped in front of a pair of bronze doors with murals of trees etched onto it."The royal hall's behind this door. Is everyone prepared?"
Stryke banged his sword against his shield. "We wouldn't have come this far otherwise."
"Brave. That is an admirable trait." Paris slit his palm with his rapier and placed it on the door. "I, Parissius Veritus Vermillion, son of Ryhart Noel Vermillion, and lone successor to the 'Thorn Throne' command thee under the oath of blood... open!"
His blood spread across the door, then slowly disappeared as if sucked by the door. With a reluctant groan, the doors inched open of their own accord.
"All that to open a door?" Stryke mocked as they awaited the excruciatingly slow doors. "You royal types are weird."
"I know, right?" Paris agreed. "I told my father on numerous occasions, it was unnecessary, but he never listened."
Leila was of a different mind. "I think it's quite effective as the last fortress for a king."
"Huh? How can you say that? It opens so slowly. What if we were being chased?" Stryke asked.
"Chances are the doors would be open until the royal family lock themselves inside. After that, anyone opening the door would be suspect. My guess is the process can be sped up from the inside, right?"
"That is impressive," praised Paris. "How did you know that?"
Leila shrugged. "I designed something similar once."
"Watch out!" Yuna warned as flaming arrows accompanied by streams of fire burst out the slim opening. Luckily, Yuna's ward stopped their advance.
The surprise attack caused the invasion group to raise their weapons sharply.
The doors swung open, and the group made their way into the throne room.
The hall was huge, with rows of pillars to the left and right holding up balconies from which nobles presided happenings. Behind a mass of drakuls sat their leader on the Thorn Throne. It was a hulking mass, much bigger than the spriggan lord, and looked fiercer than anything any of them had faced so far.
"You did well to make it this far," declared the king. "Now, perish."
With a wave of his hand, droves of arrow wielding drakul lined the overhead balcony. As they nocked their bows, one of the players smiled.
"I seem to have been forgotten," Craig said as he spun his staff around his person. Trails of flames danced around, following the staff's path. "[Dance of the Salamander]."
The flames gained lives of their own as they revolved around the party, roasting away all incoming arrows. Not to be mistaken for shields, they burst outwards to the balconies, engulfing the drakuls in their unforgiving heat.
Shadow utilized the distraction to scale a pillar and land on the balcony. He then dodged Craig's flaming dragon as he sliced his way through the archers.
Stryke, Paris, and Sara burst through the protective flames to attack the bodyguards head-on.
A line of mages shot streams of electricity, ice, and fire at the advancing trio. Their timid protector denied the mages their spoils as her wards shrugged off strike after strike.
"Now!" Stryke cried.
Yuna released her ward, and Stryke burst forward with [Charge]. [Charge] was a movement skill mostly used by warrior classes. It propelled its users over the ground in a 'sliding' motion and thus allowed them to quickly close in on enemies.
BAM!
Stryke ended his charge by bashing a mage with his shield, and then pushed the beast backward till he hit the warrior's back. With a shout, he drove his sword through both drakuls' hearts.
By the little knight's side, Paris hopped onto the head of a drakul. Using them as stepping stones, he charged at the king. A brute leaped in the air and swung at him with a defiant battle cry.
"I don't like ugly things," the young prince muttered. He hopped over the blow, balanced on two heads, whirled around, and then delivered seven lightning thrusts through the brute's chest. It perished before it hit the earth, but Paris' forced pause bought the drakuls' the time they needed to move out of his path.
As a result, Paris lost his balance and nearly fell to the angry mob.
Whoosh! Puchi!
Luckily, a hail of arrows descended around him and struck the drakul. The drakul quickly moved away from the strike zone, inadvertently creating space for Paris to safely land. Just as Paris was contemplating his lousy position, a path opened up to his side when a body knocked over several others.
Sara blew the smoke on her fists, a smug grin on her face. "HoraHoraHoraHora!" Her joy was plain for all to see as she pounded her way through the drakul.
Leila's cover-fire and buffs from Lunette's song proved helpful as they routed the last of the drakul.
Eventually, tired, but encouraged by victory, the party of seven plus one squared off against the king.
The drakul king rose from his throne with the grace of royalty, his steps the swagger of battle veterans, and his bloodied eyes those of mass murderers.
It raised his arm, and two weapons larger than man fell to the ground beside him. The first was a curved blade while the second was a battle-ax. Chains wrapped around the weapons led to two rings, which it clamped around its arm. When the weapons were secure, the drakul king lifted the blades.
Silenceechoed in the room as the players frowned at the name above its health bar.
Strong! It was too strong! It was 15 levels above the soldier drakul! What manner of beast was this!
Their hesitation did not go unnoticed. "What is this? Are you scared?" Xeim mocked. "Choose to surrender now, and I might consider sparing your lives."
Stryke's grip tightened around his sword as he swallowed hard. "Scared?" The little knight let out a low chuckle. "Ah, maybe I am. But you know, there's this much scarier guy..."
Sara stepped forward, pounding her fists together. "Right, right. He's rude, annoying, completely clueless to a maiden's feelings-"
"But when in a pinch, there's no one you'd want more watching your back," Paris finished, brandishing his rapier to his chest as he took a calm breath.
Shadow morphed beside them, blades at the ready. "He can be insanely reckless-"
"But he ends up with a victory either way," Lunette said, her eyes bright with resolve.
"So, if all we have to do is hold you till he gets here," Yuna muttered, hands tight on her staff.
"We shall do so with no fear," Criag declared.
"Why? Because once he gets here..." Leila said.
"You're as good as dead!" they chorused.
Pa! pa! Pa!
Xeimdem 's slow clap echoed around the hall. "Beautiful. Top-notch drama. I should consider hiring you as court jesters."
"Bastar-"
"Shut it kid!" Xeimdem spat. "Come at me and meet your ends."
With defiant cries they charged the beast.
Thirty minutes later,
Xeimdem shrugged off Leila's arrows as it kicked Sara in the stomach. It launched the worn-out girl through a pillar, and she was lucky to avoid the falling debris. Yuna drained the last of her mana to heal the fallen pugilist, but even that only kept her alive. She was out of the fight. And she wasn't the only one.
Of the eight, only Leila, Paris, and Shadow were still in the fight.
They had managed to reduce Xeim's health to half, but it had gotten fiercer as the fight wore on. To make things worse, the game's in-built fatigue system dulled most of their current attacks.
Shadow flitted around its shoulder and back, slicing wherever he could, but fatigue got the better of him, and he ultimately slipped.
Xeimdem grabbed Shadow's limp body and tossed him across the room, where he rolled to a stop, unable to move.
Paris side-stepped Xeim's subsequent strike, and but could not dodge the follow-up. He blocked with his rapier, but he was launched next to Shadow, where his blade shattered to bits.
Leila put up a good fight, effortlessly dodging its strikes as she kept up her barrage. However, the mental strain caused her to miss a puddle of sweat on the floor. She slipped and collapsed. She then made to stand, but fatigue preventing her from moving any further.
Xeimdem grinned as it raised its ax high... and then swung down!
"Leila!" the party screamed to no avail. The huntress could barely keep awake, let alone move.
Vwhoosh!
BOOM!
A black direwolf whisked the huntress away as Xeim was launched upwards and backward by four rapidly spinning arrows drilling through its left and right shoulders.
A being of the darkness stepped into the hall, the emblem of a howling wolf glowing on his forehead. He nocked arrows into his bow, his cold eyes, promising death to his target. "You raised a hand against my guild. Now, prepare to pay the price..."