Path of Transcendence 1: Ultimatum of the Nameless God (2 page)

In their real life, Talon had been training at Selestra's father's dojo since he was little. They were about five or six the first time they met. Selestra could not remember exactly how old, but it could not have been any older. No matter how hard Talon worked out, he was always overweight and ugly, even before the accident. She had never really liked him. If she had to choose between like and hate, she would chose hate without a second's thought. In high school, he saved her from probably getting raped. Since the Great Fuck Over, Talon had saved Selestra a half-dozen times. She could not stand owing him, and it just made her hate him more.

Selestra's face twisted into frown.
Heroes are good looking and charming, not fat, ugly curmudgeons. So, why did it have to be him saving me, instead of a charming, good looking guy, someone who could make me forget Jet? I would have asked him to join our party, if this raid was something normal. I do not want Jet to be hurt or killed. I do not know if this a game or real, anymore. Even if this is just a game, I would not want to see the person I love with suffer or die, but Talon getting hurt or killed does not matter. He is so ridiculously strong, I am not even sure that the monsters here can hurt him.

A flight of thirty obsidian steps, angled like three sides of a trapezoid led up to terrace fronting the gate. The terrace was filled obelisks and other oddly shaped objects made of unidentifiable metals and stones. Each valve of the gate was nearly forty feet wide, and the platform was more than a hundred yards wide where it met the wall of the cavern.

Nearly a hundred DokkAlfar were formed up in ranks near the front of the platform. In the center, a small group of the DokkAlfar were dressed in robes instead of armor. Toward the back of the platform, three obsidian golems stood still as statues: one to either side of the door and one around fifty feet in front of it.

The leaders of the three parties to the left of the Bohemian Cats, all small guilds like the Cats, walked over to confer with the Lord of Jet and the Lady of Gold. Talon had moved seventy or eighty yards out in front of the rest of the Damned. One of the guild leaders, Deathmeister, stared at Talon, but the other two only glanced at him momentarily.

Deathmeister's guild was Roving Massacre, a small but elitist raiding guild, when
Taereun: Battleground of the Damned
was just a game. Even after the game became a reality, they spent most of their time in the hinterlands of the Lands of Despair, instead of searching for the path to Haven. They had a reputation for hunting down rare demons and other powerful monsters. Even though there had never been a way to open stat windows, the players, when it was still a game, had found or invented spells that would determine the general properties and strengths of gear. Roving Massacre was reputed to have some of the strongest gear of anyone.

“Jet, how the hell did you ever get a freak like that Talon to join your guild for this raid? Fuck, why did you even do it?” Deathmeister's voice sounded somewhere between amazed and incredulous, with a solid dose of hate.

The Lord of Jet took off his helm, revealing a face so handsome that it could be called beautiful. His features were a slightly more masculine version of the Lady of Gold's. The two LjosAlfar had been twin brother and sister, before the Great Fuck Over left them host to minds and of souls of two of the Damned. Now, it was rumored that the two Damned were continuing their sexual relationship from outside the game in the bodies of the twins. Selestra knew the truth of it, that the rumors were completely accurate.

“Come on, Death. You should know that my guild gets around. Even if aren't a raiding guild, we still know more people and guilds than any three raiding guilds combined.” The Lord of Jet sounded boastful.

“Everybody wants to get to know the beautiful people, just like in the real world.”  Thorrin was a Dvergar, an incredibly skilled Smith as well as powerful warrior adept. Dvergar are not attractive by human standards, but he was not as ugly as Talon.

“That guy doesn't give a damn about looks, power, prestige, or anything else. He's been an absolute psychotic monster, since I first saw him.” Deathmeister's eyes were still fixed on Talon's brooding back.

“What's so special about him? I mean, yeah, he's a big-ass Dvergar, but what's the big deal?” Kamehameaha had been fairly new to the game at the time of the Great Fuck Over, like all of his guild, the Dragonball Warriors. The other people present thought he was probably a kid, just barely old enough to get a subscription when he started. Even after spending nearly twelve years trapped in the game, he still acted like a punk teenager with an attitude and a mountain on shoulder.

“Kid, that's Talon. He's probably the best tank there is, and he's definitely the most dangerous person you've ever seen, no matter what anyone else might claim.” Thorrin's voice was filled with something close to respect, and odd thing to hear from the taciturn Dvergar.

“Don't call me kid. Frigging dwarf.”

“Better watch you mouth, kid. Thorrin's sent more retards for an economy tour of the Land of the Dead than you could count without running out of fingers and toes. Since you can't count any higher without them, well . . . ” Deathmeister's smile was mocking, but his eyes promised violence. He was known for losing control in battle and going on bloody rampages.

“Looks like the Thugtards won't be joining the party. The assholes can't get their shit together and make a real push.”

The guttural bass voice startled the guild leaders. For all his massive size, Talon's movements were so silent that none of them had noticed his approach. Only Selestra, standing off to the side of the conference, had been paying attention to him. The corners of her lips turned down in a bitter frown, when the Lord of Jet jumped slightly.

“Damn, you're still too quiet. You're more like a damned ghost than a mountain of muscle.” Deathmeister's smile was a hostile challenge. There was neither friendship nor respect lost between the two of them.

“You can go back to licking Menton's ass-crack again. Maybe that will get them in gear.” Talon's flat tone of voice sounded more bored than anything.

Selestra moved back rapidly. She knew Talon well enough to know that he was nowhere near as calm as he sounded. The bored expression, with his eyes half-lidded, was a sure danger sign that he would attack any second. When the Lady of Gold looked in her direction, she motioned for the other girl to move away.

*Get out of there! Talon's ready to take him apart!*

The Lady of Gold smiled and approached Deathmeister. Leaning her body against his, she wrapped her arms around his neck. A charm hanging form a chain around her neck glowed faintly, and she stepped back. It was another invention of the players, using the same base magic as the guild bracelets. The whisper charm allowed one player to speak with any other player, whose identity had been added to the charm.

The Lady of Gold's “whispered” words caused a flash of anger to cross Deathmeister's face, before he nodded. After stepping backwards without letting Talon out of his line of sight, Deathmeister moved off to the side with her.

Talon stared at them with narrowed eyes, while Thorrin watched Talon from the corner of his eye. No one said anything for a few minutes, while a brittle tension filled the air. Talon's reputation was as bad as Thug Horde's, everyone was afraid of what he might do. When Deathmeister and The Lady of Gold both smiled, Talon's face turned into a blank mask.

Deathmeister and The Lady of Gold returned to the group side by side, with Deathmeister grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “The Lady is right. This isn't the time to be fighting with other Damned, even you. We have to hurry or we won't finish this battle.”

Deathmeister turned back toward Talon with the grin on his face and extended his hand. “Let's work together. We can settle our differences another time.”

Talon did not take the offered hand. “You were scum when you were in Thug Horde, and your scum now. Let's get this over with before the stench makes me puke.”

Deathmeister's face turned purple, with the veins popping out at his temples.  “You bastard!”

Talon's smile was mocking, as he silently stared at the enraged guild leader.

“Are we just going to stand here, until the DokkAlfar realize we've broken through the orcs?” Selestra's tremulous voice was barely audible over the sounds of battle.

“What's the plan? How do we deal with all those DokkAlfar and the guardians?” Thorrin's gruff voiced statement, refocused everyone's attention on something other than Talon and Deathmeister's mutual dislike.

Talon snorted and turned so that Deathmeister was not in his direct line of vision. His deep voice was as flat as his expression. “Draw the DokkAlfar's attention, and a small group can kill them and the obsidian golems. Thee golems are probably the real guardians. If we don't do this soon, we'll probably be pushed back out of this cavern again. There are still more orcs pushing in from that tunnel where the left wing is being tied down.”

This isn't good. He's still ready to explode.
Selestra looked around nervously. In the real world, Talon was tough, and in the game he had been a monster. She did not know what he was now, and she could not help but be scared with Talon as irritated as he was.

“By a small group, you mean you with some of us supporting you?” Deathmeister's anger was easy to hear in his voice.

“Can you handle the DokkAlfar and the three golems at once?”

“Our main tank is better geared than you are! He has the best defensive gear we've found. You're only wearing rags, and ratty hides!” Deathmeister's anger was turning back into fury.

“Take them if you want them that bad. I don't care if you die. It'll be good for a few laughs, if nothing else.” There was no anger or any other emotion in Talon's voice. The lack of emotion was more threatening than a burning rage.

Caught between rage, hate and fear, Deathmeister stared at Talon. The two Damned had a long unpleasant history, with Deathmeister always coming out the loser in the end. If they fought now, Deathmeister would probably die for real, but this time he was intending to win. He forced himself to calm down. He had already made the deal with the Lady of Gold. Talon would die fighting the golems.

“Fine. You and the Bohemian Cats take the DokkAlfar and the golems. We'll roll up the orc flank, with the rest of the guilds.”

Talon turned to the Lady of Gold. “Have your casters conceal your guild with magic. We'll move along the back wall and wait at the base of the stairs for the DokkAlfar in the gate area to be engaged.”

The Bohemian Cats waited with Talon in the shadows at the base of the back wall of the cavern, while the other guilds began a distraction.  Plowing into the exposed flank of the orc lines, the right wing began rolling up the orc's left flank. Freed from the pressure of the orc warriors, more Damned began to circle around and assault the orc's rear.

It was less than ten minutes, before the DokkAlfar leader noticed that the orcs and monsters on his left flank were collapsing. After the leader gave orders to his subordinates, over eighty of the DokkAlfar engaged in battle with the Damned.

Talon waited another five minutes, to make sure that DokkAlfar would not be able to easily break away, before moving in the direction of the gate.

*Hey there are still ten DokkAlfar up there. You don't intend to attack the golems and the DokkAlfar at once, do you?*
The Lady of Gold's nervous question was made in the chat room created by the party spell.

*We're not going to get a better opportunity. We're still outnumbered almost 10 to 1. The DokkAlfar can still stop the flank from collapsing. We attack the DokkAlfar first, and if the golems join in, I'll keep them busy while your guild finishes the DokkAlfar. I will murder the DokkAlfar leader. The confusion will allow the rest of you to approach and engage them.*
There was no more emotion in Talon's voice, than if he were talking about the weather.

None of the DokkAlfar on the terrace noticed the approaching Bohemian Cats. Once the guild was hiding behind the strange objects on the terrace, Talon disappeared into a shadow.

*He's gone!? How did he do that?*
The Lord of Jet used the guild bracelet, so that Talon would not hear him.
*Okay everyone, once the golems are ready to go down, stop helping Talon. We have a deal with Deathmeister. We're going to let him die.*

*Huh? Let him die?*

*What do you mean Jet?*

*Why are we letting him die?*

*QUIET!*
The startled queries came from the guild members, so rapidly that they were little more than white noise. The Lord of Jet had to scream to be heard over the ruckus.

He waited for them to settle down, before continuing.
*We have a deal with Deathmeister. We're going to get some high quality gear, and we're going to form a joint raiding force with them in the new zone. Who knows how much longer we'll be trapped here, it could still be years. This is our chance to break into the big leagues. We're not that much smaller than Roving Massacre. So, there's no reason we can't be a top tier guild, just like they are. We'll have a better chance of surviving and recruiting new members, who we can use to take the brunt of the damage.*

*Yeah, that's not a bad idea. I guess.*

*Talon's not one of us.*

*Listening to those old geezers that played those old timer games like Ultima and Eve, people have always been fucking each other in MMOs. Well, I guess this isn't an MMO, and we can really die here.*