Grand Game 602: Back in the Wilds

The safe zone was exactly as it had been ten days ago: deserted.

Standing in the middle of the empty street and invisible to any would-be-observers, I turned around in a slow circle and took in the surroundings.

The village was unoccupied, there was no question of that. The nearby log cabins were in the same state of disrepair I’d observed days ago, and no whisper of sound broke the quiet. Even the forest bordering the village’s northern side looked empty—it’s nearest reaches anyway.

Lifting my gaze, I took in the horizon. The sun had only just begun to peek over the valley’s eastern mountain range—the day was yet young—and no clouds marred the sky. Smoke did, though. Trails of gray rose up from multiple spots in the forest, creating ugly blotches that hung in the sky like portents of doom.

Or of war.

Narrowing my eyes, I tried to get a fix on the largest and most pervasive gray cloud. By my best reckoning, the spot in question was at least a two-hour hike northward, about halfway to the center of the valley. The fighting there is ongoing, I surmised. If I hurry, I can still arrive in time to learn something.

Decision made, I set off at a jog.

✵ ✵ ✵

Ten minutes later, I was in the forest proper and, despite the circumstances, felt my spirits rise. There was something unaccountably soothing about the ocean of green enveloping me. Tall redwood and oak trees arched high overhead, birds chirped softly, worms wriggled in the soil beneath, and the underbrush rustled ceaselessly. Everywhere I looked, in fact, life thrived, and of its own accord, a smile slipped onto my face.

Sector 12,560 made for a stark contrast to Sanctuary, and I could only hope Elise and the others managed to transform the barren wasteland that was our new home into something resembling my pleasant surroundings—and they were pleasant despite the war raging in its midst.

Ghost would’ve loved it here, I thought, feeling a brush of sadness at her absence. No doubt she would have nagged me incessantly until I caved and allowed her to manifest. I chuckled to myself. Perhaps, it’s a good thing she’s not here, then.

A sharp cry from farther north pulled me from my thoughts. It was followed by another from the east, and a third from the west.

Players.

Three separate parties, and by the sounds of it, they were on the hunt. The smile slipped off my face as hard-bitten caution reasserted itself. I’d come a long way since I’d last trod the valley, but it would not do to underestimate my fellow players, especially not those embroiled in a deadly war.

Dropping into a crouch, I took a minute to prepare myself.

I had time. None of the three parties were in mindsight or physical sight range yet, and I was fairly certain it was not me they were hunting. Even so, I didn’t expect the unknown players to be anything but hostile if they discovered me.

This was a war zone, after all, and everyone was an enemy until proven otherwise.

Drawing psi, I began casting. I was already hidden in the shadows, but now it was time to see to my buffs.

You have cast engine of war, increasing your Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity by +20 ranks for 30 minutes.

You have cast vanish and trigger-cast quick mend.

Next, I checked my weapons. Faithful rested in my right sheath, and a stygian sword in my left. Since I’d left behind my most valuable equipment, my gear was definitely lacking. Still, what I lacked in equipment, I more than made up for in abilities. If the incoming players somehow uncovered me, they would discover not a sheep, but an angry wolf.

Craning my neck upward, I scanned the nearby trees, searching for a likely perch to observe the proceedings. The oak tree five yards to my right seemed the perfect candidate, and I wasted no time equipping my climbing claws to scale its broad trunk.

Twenty seconds was all it took to get into position.

High up in the oak tree, nestled in its branches, wrapped in shadow, and buffed with vanish, I was nigh undetectable. Bending my head downward, I turned my attention back to the forest floor.

It was time to find out what all the fuss was about.

✵ ✵ ✵

It did not take long for the first group of players to emerge into sight range. As they did, their analyze data unfolded in my mind.

The target is Tanmir, a level 179 elven nightrunner. She bears a Mark of Greater Dark and a Mark of Ishita.

The target is Keven, a level 211 human warlock. She bears a Mark of Supreme Dark and a Mark of Erebus.

The target is Tuver, a level 190 half-giant hammerguard. He bears a Mark of Supreme Dark and a Mark of Tartar.

The target is …

…

The information of the first three players set me back on my perch. To say I was surprised was an understatement.

What in hells is a Tartan legionnaire doing in the company of the Awakened Dead?

Tuver wasn’t the only Tartan soldier in the approaching group either. There were two others who bore Tartar’s Mark, and four more who, while unMarked by the Power, also sported the insignia of a raging bull on their shoulder patches.

The rest of the ragged company of twenty were all Darksworn, and more importantly, by dress and appearance, were adherents of Erebus and Ishita.

Damn. This makes no sense.

Tartar was supposed to be at war with the Awakened Dead’s Powers, and in fact, had been so the last I’d heard. Given the three Powers’ history in this sector, before today I would have bet anything that wouldn’t ever change.

Yet, here was a group of Tartan and Awakened Dead soldiers in close proximity to each other and not fighting.

What was going on?

“We see you, you bastards!”

The cry came from the east, but no sooner did I turn my head in that direction, than a fireball sailed in from the north, and a split second after that, another shout rose from my left.

“There’s no escaping us, darkspawn!”

My eyes narrowed as I worked out the implications. The Dark company could not be one of those I’d overheard earlier. They were a fourth group and, by all appearances, were being hotly pursued by the other three.

Who, and how large, the other three companies were, I could not tell yet. They had still to come into view.

The Dark company rushed on. The incoming fireball, quickly dealt with by the trailing member of the group, barely slowed them at all. Gauging the course of the fleeing soldiers’ flight, I realized their path was about to cross mine.

And indeed, the players passed directly beneath the tree I sheltered in. As they did so, Game messages unexpectedly unfurled in my mind.

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you.

You have passed a Mind check! Multiple farspeaker mental sendings detected.

Well, well.

Congratulating myself on my good fortune, I waited impatiently for the telepathic buzzing to resolve itself.

Eavesdropping on communication commencing…

“Where are we going?” I heard the half-giant Tuver ask hoarsely.

“To the safe zone,” Keven wheezed in reply.

“That’s your plan?” Tuver asked, sounding aghast.

“Why? Do you have a better one in mind?” the warlock retorted.

“I don’t,” Tuver shot back, “but going there is—”

Eavesdropping stopped. Telepathic link broken. The participants have passed out of range.

While I didn’t get to hear the half-giant finish his thought, I was no less delighted by the overheard snippet. I now knew where the players were heading, and I envisioned no problems with finding them anew if doing so became necessary.

Looking back over my shoulder, I watched the Darksworn disappear into the foliage to the south, then faced forward again. If I was right about what was going on, one or the other of the remaining groups should pass by shortly.

Making myself comfortable, I set myself to waiting.

✵ ✵ ✵

The next group of soldiers was not long in coming.

They emerged from the underbrush to the north in a wash of white. In stark contrast to the group before them, the newcomers were dressed in pristine white uniforms embroidered in gold.

Lightsworn, I surmised.

Like the Dark company, the Light players were running flat out. But they were not fleeing. No, these were the hunters, and it showed in their predatory gazes and the naked anticipation in their faces. Letting my attention skip from Lightsworn to Lightsworn, I quickly parsed their player data.

The target is …

The target is …

…

Huh, interesting. Except for the foremost player, none of the other fifty Lightsworn were above level two hundred. Fixing my attention on that worthy, I inspected him anew.

The target is Jobe, a level 220 human inquisitor. He bears a Mark of Greater Light and a Mark of Muriel.

The picture was becoming clearer. But there were still two more groups—the ones to the east and west—whose identities were yet unknown.

They have to be Lightsworn too, I thought. Otherwise, there would be no reason for the Dark company to be fleeing—or the Light one to be so confident.

Had circumstances, and a common enemy, forced the Tartans and Awakened Dead to work together?

Perhaps, I thought. What was less clear, though, was how permanent or widespread the cooperation between the two Dark factions was.

My gaze fell on the approaching Lightsworn again. Fortuitously—or perhaps not—Jobe’s company would not be passing under my perch, and for a moment, I contemplated repositioning so that I could overhear any telepathic conversations they might be engaged in. But only for a moment.

Too risky, I decided eventually, staying put.

I had no intention of becoming embroiled in the war between the Forces. My only ‘must-do’ objective in this sector was rescuing Saya. Everything else was superfluous.

Rustling leaves a few hundred yards to my left drew my attention. Peering in that direction, I saw thirty another Lightsworn emerge into view. They, too, were led by an elite.

More rustling. This time on my right.

Glancing around, I saw twenty more Lightsworn appear—also with an elite in charge.

That makes one hundred Light soldiers, three of whom are tier five players. Arrayed against them were a group of twenty Dark players that counted only one lowly elite between them.

No wonder, the Dark company was fleeing so desperately.

But war was never fair. And the tables could quickly change. Today, it was the Dark that was disadvantaged. Tomorrow, it could just as easily be the Light.

So, feeling no sympathy for the outnumbered Dark soldiers, I watched impassively as the three Light companies continued their remorseless chase southward. In a few seconds, they would pass me by, and I would be free to continue my journey northward. While I waited, I ruminated over what I had learned.

Truthfully, it was not as much as I hoped.

As intrigued as I was by the Awakened Dead and Tartans’ stance to one another, it was the composition and deployment of Shadow’s forces in the sector that I was most interested in. And I’d learned nothing of that.

Oh well, perhaps, I’ll find out more when—

You have failed a magical resistance check.

Jobe has detected you! You are no longer hidden.