Grifden of DyingNight

  “SilverSitter, reinforce the flank,” MercilessLee’s snapped command echoed down the canyon walls, clearly heard over the pounding feet of players and the scuttling claws of a never-ending horde of spiders. His shifty eyes danced over the battle line; players with shields held the front, supported by several lines of spears, debuffers, and archers. At the back, a full fifty percent of their numbers wielded wand and staff, throwing out heals as quickly as they could regenerate Celestial Power.

  Grifden pulled back the string of his bow, then released an arrow that flew wildly, but had no trouble hitting something amidst the living wall of carapace and scuttling legs. He inched closer to the commanders, his ears straining to overhear.

  “Steady advance!” Even as the front row of spiders was cut down, MercilessLee’s roar called another wave. The front line obeyed, taking a large step forward that was quickly mirrored by the supports. “Losses?”

  “Just the five on the flank. The wall hoppers are making those positions vulnerable.”

  “Silver can handle one side, you take the other,” MercilessLee received a salute, then the man he was talking to bolted away, a veteran party of level eights on his heels. Lee turned to the scoutmaster, his voice almost too low for Grifden to catch, “Any sign of them yet?”

  “Nothing. We were unable to penetrate into the level ten area. Webbing is everywhere and the slightest touch summons several of the big ones.”

  MercilessLee growled, a sound that usually preceded someone nearby suffering a miserable punishment, “Excuses! I didn’t command you to turn back at the first sign of danger!” Quick as a snake, he pulled a dagger from his hip and thrust it into the scoutmaster’s shoulder. The man bit back a scream, turning it into a drawn out groan. Lee was in his face, grinning as he gave the weapon a twist, “How could you have fulfilled the mission?”

  The spymaster stuttered, unable to think through the pain, “I-I don’t know.”

  “So. Damn. Useless!” MercilessLee withdrew a second dagger, shoving it into the opposite shoulder before kicking the man to the ground.

  Grifden knew the sound of opportunity knocking when he heard it, “My lord! He could have sacrificed a man by having him cut through the webs and draw the level tens. Using the distraction, the rest of the team could have pushed deeper.”

  “You dare!” One of MercilessLee’s two bodyguards—both level nine—moved like greased lightning. A sword flashed toward Grifden’s neck. In response, he raised his chin, eyes never leaving MercilessLee’s.

  “Hold,” the simple, whispered command stopped the men. As if they rehearsed the moment a thousand times, the sword’s path halted a millimeter from breaking flesh. “Sacrificing your own comrades… I suppose that’s fitting for you. You were their friend, are you so eager to see them die? Or perhaps you just want me to throw my scouts away so they can escape?”

  “Whatever friendship we shared was gone the minute I realized the girl was nothing more than a flirt. If not for you giving me the opportunity to join DyingNight, I would have done my usual to her, then left them a broken mess,” Grifden’s smirk was rife with vicious promise.

  The bold statement, and dangerous look in his eyes, resonated with MercilessLee. He nodded appreciatively, “All right. You’ve got my attention. A schemer of your caliber has to have some idea what their next move is.”

  Grifden nodded, his finger gently pushing away the blade that was still next to his neck, “Richtor, their leader, thinks he’s clever. He definitely came up with a plan, but since we’ve had them trapped in there, and they haven’t gone beyond the level ten webs, they only really have two options.” MercilessLee rolled his finger so Grifden continued, “They either killed themselves to escape the minute they were trapped, or, they tried to level up in hopes they could break through us.”

  MercilessLee kicked the spymaster onto his back, then stepped on one of the daggers. To his credit, the man didn’t scream. “Any idiot could figure that much out. I hope you weren’t so confident with nothing valuable to add.”

  “N-no. Of course not, my lord. They’ll use the spiders, somehow drawing them to attack us from an unexpected angle. Probably at the flanks or healers. When we pull forces from the front to support, they’ll make a run for it.”

  The commander of the casters barked a laugh, “Through five hundred of us? If they were smart, they’d already be dead.”

  Ignoring the comment, MercilessLee narrowed his eyes at Grifden. He hummed for a second, then made up his mind, “There were three of you?”

  “Yes, my lord. SanctimoniousNut, MourningWood, and myself.”

  “Take twelve level sevens and stay out of sight. When they spring this little trap of theirs, you’ll have one chance to prove yourself. You fail, and I’ll make sure the three of you are farming outside an origin town for the rest of your lives.”

  Grifden snapped a crisp salute, “Understood, my lord!”

  Some time later, Grifden and his new charges were tucked inside an alcove hidden from the rest of the canyon. SanctimoniousNut appeared from stealth, motioning for the next person to take his place as lookout, “It's been two hours…”

  Grifden rolled his eyes, “They’ll make a move soon. We’re into the level eight spiders now and there are plenty of ledges above the main force in this part of the canyon. It's the perfect spot for an ambush.”

  “Which one of those nobodies did you have a crush on again?”

  “Shut your ugly face!” Grifden snarked and SanctimoniousNut raised his hands in surrender, an impish grin on his face.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  A crash further down the canyon had them all stiffening with perked ears. The new scout returned a second later, his voice tinged with anticipation, “It’s time!”

  They had poured over the plan several times but Grifden repeated himself once more, “Everyone stealth up. No matter what happens, don’t make a move until I give the signal.” As one, they crouched and vanished while pandemonium erupted outside.

  Exactly as suspected, Richtor’s party used the ledges above to drop white, sticky masses onto the army below. Of course, MercilessLee attempted to get his own people onto the ridges in advance, but the sheer walls and sticky webbing made it impossible. Clearly, Richtor had found a way onto them further down the canyon.

  The nature of the sticky bombs became clear when the first hit the ground, cracking open and spreading goop in all directions. A thousand screeching howls reverberated through the entire ravine, shaking the rocks under their feet. The spiders came in a fury; they burst from hidden burrows in the walls and ground, swarming the players by the hundreds.

  The healers, expecting to be targeted, split apart like a well-oiled machine, filing into tight boxes surrounded by the warriors. The fighting turned furious. The players abandoned the walls, huddling in tight formations in the center of the canyon. A few died in the shuffling of formations, but the spiders fared much worse. MercilessLee and the other commanders shouted above it all, bringing order to the chaos and keeping morale in check.

  Grifden smiled in recognition when Kevinsbakon came charging out of a wave of the beasts. He plowed into one of the formations, sending players flying. He wore a matching set of heavy armor covered in web-like patterns and each of his strikes carried the weight of three men.

  Due to being in a raid group with at least one member having Identify, Grifden was able to see detailed information about his old ally.

  [Human - Unclassed: Level 10 (Health 340/380) (Discipline 57/62)]

  Arrows and bolts of energy rained down on Kevinsbakon, doing little individual damage through his powerful defenses. A second formation of players ignored most of the spiders, joining their firepower to bring him down. Unperturbed, Kevin, strafed left and right, buying precious seconds.

  Changing focus from the surrounding menace allowed the masses of beasts to pull one player at a time from the formations, quickly whittling them away to a few terrified survivors who fled past Grifden’s hiding spot.

  Grifden couldn’t believe Kevin was still alive, and even above half health after two whole formations were wiped out. His jaw ached with how hard he clenched his teeth. His job wasn’t to help them, and honestly, he couldn’t have cared less how many of his fellows died.

  He must have found a chest deeper in, snuck in, and stolen that armor. It should have been me! Wait, this is perfect! He wasn’t wearing that armor before, there’s a good chance he just found it. I can kill him and take it for myself! Once the spiders kill everyone else, there won’t be anyone to stop me. He’s almost dead, too. This is going to be great.

  Grifden’s eyes were glued to Kevinsbakon. He licked his lips, desiring nothing more than pulling each piece of that armor off the man. Another formation fell apart, this time under the tender mercies of a combined assault by spiders, Deloralicious, and TwistedReligion.

  Delora was no brute like Kevin. She struck with quick, darting attacks that ended the lives of key defensive players, allowing the spiders around her to dive deeper and deeper into DyingNight’s ranks. She also wore a matching set of gear, this one a supple black leather that clung to her lithe figure.

  Not waiting to be picked apart, a dozen of the highest-leveled fighters in the formation charged her. TwistedReligion backed her up, each bolt of ice from his staff hitting with unerring accuracy. Those struck grew stiff and slow, becoming easy prey for the beasts while simultaneously blocking their allies' advance.

  With the loss of their core members, the third formation fell apart and was devoured. Grifden didn’t understand why the spiders only attacked DyingNight’s people, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough to save Richtor’s team. Despite being the cause of nearly fifty deaths so far, the casters and archers from the other formations had hit all three enough to bring their health down to a third. His chance was coming soon, and his vision swam with desire to make his move.

  Deloralicious, Kevinsbakon, and TwistedReligion grouped in the center of the canyon, preparing to make an obvious break for it. They charged toward a gap between the last two formations blocking their path, only to stop suddenly. Kevinsbakon, his shield leading the way, chucked a small grenade-shaped object in front of him and it exploded into an expanding wall of black smoke.

  Grifden barely choked back a curse as the roiling smoke covered all the players, blocking their sight completely. Due to crowding into the center of the canyon, away from the walls, none were spared. Four people broke free from the obscuring effect, Milkdud having joined them at some point. He was at full health and took the lead, easily pushing aside the last players in their way. They raced right toward Grifden’s group and the toes of his boots curled into the ground as he prepared to spring the trap.

  He waited for Milkdud and Kevinsbakon to run by, then leaped toward Deloralicious, “Now!” Fourteen more players emerged from around them, diving onto the group weapons first. They were taken completely by surprise, but still managed to dodge several blows.

  Grifden couldn’t help but be impressed as his sword bit deep into Deloralicious’s thigh, cutting her health into the red. Her dagger flashed toward his throat but he was already jumping away, leaving the weapon behind. She ducked a mace and rolled away from a greatsword, only to rise and immediately be punctured by two spears from the late to de-stealth SanctimoniousNut and MourningWood. Her health was so low he couldn’t see the sliver of red in the bar. One more hit would do it, and Grifden’s future in DyingNight would be assured.

  A grin stretched his face as he knocked an arrow, “To the first of many deaths, bitch!” He loosed, the shot too close to miss even with his crap aim. Her eyes grew wide with panic, his grin growing in equal measure. A bolt of white energy slammed into her from above a second before his arrow pierced her chest. Her health bar ticked into the orange and his attack didn’t even manage to bring it back to red.

  “No! Just die!”

  Deloralicious bared her teeth in a look that promised revenge before she bolted. Kevinsbakon had turned back, finally arriving with a slam of force into the two highest leveled in Grifden’s group. They were sent stumbling back two steps, unable to cope with the three level disadvantage. He didn’t stay to fight, grabbing TwistedReligion by the scruff and dragging him along behind.

  A shadow appeared atop their heads. It was accompanied by a whistle and Richtor crashed into their ranks from above. He wore no armor or weapons, his avatar’s modesty protected by a basic loincloth. His health dropped to half from the fall, but the large egg he carried under one arm remained intact. He lifted it above his head, a grimace stretching his features.

  “No!” Grifden shouted and lunged but it was too late. The egg crashed into the ground, splattering them with sticky white filth.

  Drawn to the shout, Ricthor looked up and recognition flashed in his eyes. His grimace turned to a happy smirk, “Hey, Grif. Fancy meeting you here. We should catch up. Wanna grab a beer? Or maybe, join my new friends for dinner?” Richtor spread his arms wide as the beasts screamed in outrage from every direction.

  “Fuck you,” Grifden snarled as the scuttling of a thousand clawed legs bore down on them.

  Richtor KongRu

  Richtor’s eyes snapped open. He appeared in a familiar graveyard. He’d experienced enough spider bites over the last few days that dying to them hadn’t been nearly as unpleasant as expected.

  Accessing his interface, he ignored the death messages and notification that he was back at the beginning of level nine. He punched in a quick message to the group, “Did everyone make it?!”

  “Yup, we’re stealthed in the woods. Thanks for taking one for the team,” Milkdud responded in the party chat, quickly followed by a round of appreciation from the others.

  With quick steps, Richtor pushed his way through Dawson Creek Town, the narrow streets packed with thousands of new players, “Thanks for getting my gear out. We’ll meet up as planned unless I run into trouble.”

  “Roger that, good luck!”