Grand Game 462: Dangerous Prey (Patreon)

Note from Tom: I've made a slight change in previous chapter. North stable wing is now south stable wing.

You are hell-tracked. Remaining duration: 56 minutes.

6 tier 3 traps have been successfully configured! Remaining trap-making crystals: 170 of 200.

You have recast vanish.

You have cast load controller, granting you a 10-minute encumbrance aura that slows any armor-wearing foe within 5 yards by 50%.

You have upgraded your whirlwind ability to improved whirlwind. The tier 3 variant of this ability increases the speed boost provided by this buff to 2.5x more than normal. You have 0 of 96 Dexterity ability slots remaining.

I was ready and waiting in the middle of the stable by the time the first Rider poked her head into the room. Unfortunately, the players’ precipitous arrival meant I had to forgo checking on Ghost’s discoveries. I would do so later—assuming there was a later.

For now, my focus remained fixed on the Riders. Sadly, with my mindsight blocked, I could tell little about the players gathered outside the door beyond the fact that there were a lot of them. So, I did the next best thing: I listened intently.

“What do you see?” an unseen Rider whispered hoarsely. 

“I see nothing,” the player peering into the room—a scout named Maeve—replied, sounding peeved by the question.

“Why not?” another demanded. “The intruder is in there.”

“I know that—” Maeve retorted.

Definitely peeved, I thought.

“—but I don’t see him.” Maeve swept her gaze across the room. “He must be hiding,” she muttered.

“It’s a Blade then,” the first Rider pronounced.

“A Blade Power?” another scoffed. “There’s only one Blade Power, and somehow I doubt that Blythe has come all this way alone and unaccompanied.”

“Then who do you—” 

“Enough, you two,” a third replied firmly. “It’s the same intruder who killed Corrigan’s squad. Has to be. Maeve, what about the hellbats?”

The scout shrugged. “They’re in their pens and unharmed.”

“What do they have to say?”

“The hellbats?” Maeve rolled her eyes. “Shing’s thoughts are… annoyed. She’s angry at being awoken early and is demanding food.”

Shing was almost certainly Maeve’s hellbat companion.

“I’m not interested how hungry she is,” the authoritative voice snapped irritably. “What does she have to say about the intruder?” 

“C’mon, Titus,” Maeve replied. “You know what the hellbats are like. Shing is aware he is around but has nothing more to add.”

“But what do the others—” Titus began.

Maeve cut him off. “I don’t know. I’m no Leafbright. I can’t tell what the other companions are thinking.”

“Where are the Sworn anyway?” another Rider muttered. “They should be doing this. Not us.”

“They’re out on patrol, you idiot,” someone else informed him caustically. “Or did you forget again?”

“Then Malikor should be the one leading us,” the whiner went on, unrepentant. “How does he expect us to take down a Power on our own?”

“Malikor is busy reporting to Mammon,” Titus interjected before anyone else could answer. “Do you want to be the one to interrupt that conversation?”

The whiner didn’t answer.

Titus snorted. “I thought not.” He raised his voice slightly, no doubt to address the group at large. “Right, we have our quarry trapped, so we’ll do this slowly. Here’s what I want…”

I stopped listening. The whispered conversation had revealed more than a few interesting tidbits—not the least being that their Power, Mammon, was at this very minute being informed of events—but the time had come for me to intervene.

Titus seemed intent on advancing cautiously into the room, and while only a few minutes ago such time wasting would’ve pleased me, now I preferred they rush blindly into my traps.

Rising to my feet, I leaped over the adjacent fence and into an occupied pen. The hellbat hissed warningly. Undaunted, I advanced on the creature.

Let’s see how quick they move once their companions begin dying.

✵ ✵ ✵

You have killed Tsang, a level 163 hellbat.

The hellbat shrieked loudly as it died, drawing the attention of the Rider scout. “Titus!” she screamed.

Still issuing orders, the Rider commander broke off midstream. “What?”

“He’s killed a hellbat!”

“Whose?” he demanded.

“Does it matter?” Maeve snapped back.

Smiling grimly, I hopped into the next pen. Forced to keep its wings furled—or else risk damaging them against the fence—the occupant slowly tottered around to face me. 

I waited until the hellbat completed its maneuver. Predictably, it lunged at me when it did. Sidestepping the snapping teeth, I buried both my blades into the creature’s neck.

You have backstabbed your target for 5x more damage!

You have backstabbed your target for 5x more damage!

You have killed Nyx, a level 166 hellbat.

“Another one,” Maeve squeaked. “He’s got another one!”

“We should get in there,” an anonymous Rider yelled. “Now!”

“No,” Titus said firmly. “We’re not ready yet.”

Climbing onto the fence again, I flung myself into the next pen—

—and landed squarely on a hellbat’s back. 

Barely pausing for breath, I stabbed downward. Once. Twice. Thrice.

You have killed Inori, a level 173 hellbat.

“Nooo!” a Rider shrieked. “He’s got my companion.”

“Damnit, Titus, we have to move!” another player added. 

“Don’t forget what we face!” the Rider commander growled. “That is a Power in there. We have to do this carefully. Now, wait for your goddamn orders!” 

“Stuff your orders,” someone else shouted. “I’m not letting Lux get killed because of you!”

The Riders’ burgeoning rebellion was music to my ears. Spurred on, I leaped at the next hellbat. Then the next. And the next.

You have killed Agulaz.

You have killed Neech-ta.

You have killed…

…

The rapid-fire deaths of the hellbats was too much for even Titus to stomach, and en-masse, the players charged into the stables.

✵ ✵ ✵

You have recast vanish.

You are hell-tracked. Remaining duration: 50 minutes.

My biggest concern in the upcoming fight was healing. 

Without access to my psi, I didn’t have any way to restore my lost health—except for the new potions I’d bought, and they were only a measure of last resort. So, this time, as much as I disliked the notion, it would be Ghost—not I—who would be in the thick of things.

“You ready?” I asked over our mental bond.

“I am,” the pyre wolf replied promptly.

Sitting atop the fence of a slain hellbat, I scrutinized the incoming horde of players, noting levels and Class as their analyze data scrolled through my mind.  Nearly a hundred Riders were already in the room, and yet more kept coming. 

Damn, there’s a lot of them.

But for now, the Riders’ numbers meant little. 

They were bunched up nicely and running straight toward me in the center of the stable. The mages had their shields up and their warriors had cast their buffs, but no one was paying much attention to the immediate surroundings.

It made for an almost perfect ambush.

A hostile entity has triggered a trap! 

A hostile entity has triggered a trap! 

A hostile entity has triggered a trap! 

A hostile entity has triggered a trap! 

The lightning traps activated near simultaneously, and quicker than thought, four lethal bolts zigzagged across the aisle. Game messages cascaded across my sight as Rider after Rider was stunned, damaged, or both.

And that was only on the bolts’ first iteration.

Bouncing off the reflection guides, the forked tongues of lightning returned to the head of the Rider column to inflict more damage. Then, they crisscrossed the aisle again. 

And again. 

And again…

Not all the Riders were stunned or damaged, of course. Many of the mages made it out of the kill zone before their shields collapsed. Then there were those who were fortunate enough to be at the back of the Rider mob and outside the stable when the trap was sprung. And finally, there was the lifespan of the reflection guides themselves to consider. 

They only lasted five seconds.

But during those five seconds, the lightning traps wreaked destruction on a scale I’d rarely managed before.

63 hostile entities have died.

“Wow,” Ghost remarked, observing the death and destruction through my eyes. “Did you expect that, Prime?”

I shook my head, just flabbergasted by the success of my ploy.

“Time for me to enter the fray?” the pyre wolf prompted when I said nothing else.

I hesitated, then shook my head again. The thirty-odd Rider survivors inside the stable were still reeling in shock and as yet, I didn’t know how many waited outside the door. “We’re going to do this differently than we planned,” I murmured.

I wound back my arms. Traps were not the only tricks I had up my sleeves, and there were other ways I could inflict damage from afar. Flinging my arms forward, I threw the objects I’d primed.

You have ignited an acid bomb, creating an acid spill. 

You have ignited a fire bomb, creating a small flame. 

An acid spill has been set alight, releasing toxic fumes!

Fresh bedlam ensued as a thick plume of noxious green and yellow enveloped the Rider-occupied aisle. 

Players shrieked, coughed, and cried as their eyes burned and their skins melted. Around me, the hellbats echoed their companions’ tortured screams. Wisely, the players who had yet to enter the stables backed away from the door.

I was far from done, though.

My face hard, I didn’t let up on my deadly assault. Extravagantly spending my supply of the deadly alchemical mixes, I lobbed them one after the other into the Riders’ midst.

Until, finally, all the remaining Riders in the room were dead.

You have ignited 10 acid bombs and 10 firebombs! 

31 hostile entities have died.

I was still not done. 

Running lightly along the top of the fence, I cut a wide arc around the treacherous cloud occupying the main aisle as I made my way to the entrance. My original intent had been purely to buy time. 

To seed doubt in the Riders’ minds. 

To force them to delay and regroup.

But the overwhelming success of my ambush had afforded me a unique opportunity, and I was not about to let it go abegging. Now, I saw a means of enacting my original plan, only on a larger scale. 

If I eradicated Titus’ group entirely, I doubted even the Rider envoy would be in a rush to pursue me. 

Much would depend on Ghost, though.

✵ ✵ ✵

You are hell-tracked. Remaining duration: 49 minutes.

I slipped outside the stable’s main doors to find the remaining Riders backing away. They had been aware of my approach, of course.

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you! You are hidden. 

I swept my gaze from left to right, taking swift count of their numbers. Fifty. The Riders lacked cohesion, though—Titus had died in the lightning trap—and they were more a mob than an organized force. 

“We can take them,” Ghost pronounced.

Still studying our foes, I didn’t respond. Despite the Riders’ numbers, the fight seemed to have gone out of them, and while more than a few pointed weapons my way, the hands that held them wavered. 

“Should I attack?” Ghost probed.

My gaze flickered to the open door on the right—the one leading to the floor below. Crucially, it was empty. No reinforcements were incoming—yet. 

Seeing no reason to hold back, I dashed forward, rapidly closing the distance between me and the Riders. “Go,” I ordered.

The response was instantaneous.

Ghost has cast explosive manifest. She has 80% mana remaining. 

Tongues of fire accompanied the pyre wolf’s entrance in the ‘real’. She’d chosen her emergence point well too. Appearing amongst the farthest group of players, Ghost set to her task with a vengeance. 

Cries of consternation rang across the feeding chamber as players began to die, and some of the Riders spun around to face the new threat at their rear. 

Perfect, I thought. Ghost had split the enemy’s attention nicely, and just at the right time, too.

Choosing a target at random, I leaped the final few yards to him. Half-turned away, the Rider was in no position to fend me off as I landed atop him and bore him to the ground. Battering aside his frantic hands, I rammed ebonheart into chest. 

You have backstabbed your target for 5x more damage!

You have killed Osmil.

Rolling off the corpse, I regained my feet. A spear swept in from the right. Fending the weapon off with ebonheart, I counterattacked with faithful.

You have critically injured Buldhar.

Not bothering to finish off my foe, I threw myself forward and beneath the next attack: a sparkling ray of frost aimed in my general way. 

It struck the spearman instead.

Buldhar has died.

Rising swiftly, I spun around to face my next set of foes—three axemen closing in fast from the right flank.

3 hostiles have failed a physical resistance check! 

Yaczar, Meng and Regil are encumbered (movement speed reduced by 25%).

I almost grinned as between one step and the next, the three Riders hit the edge of my encumbrance aura and slowed. Already, my upgraded abilities were showing their worth. Using the extra time afforded me, I drew on my stamina and empowered my limbs.

You have cast whirlwind and piercing strike.

Then I laid into the trio. 

Ducking under a whistling axe, I buried ebonheart in the torso of Yaczar. Still, crouched, I pivoted around and cut out the legs from beneath Meng. 

Regil chopped down. Rolling out of the way, I came up behind him, and before the axeman could react, I yanked back his head and cut his throat.

But despite my quick work, the skirmish had left me exposed, and the charge from a nearby orc caught me blindsided.

You have failed a physical resistance check! 

Usark has stunned you for 3 seconds.

The air whooshed out of me as I hit the ground hard. Damn.

“Got you!” the orc chuckled, drawing closer. Flat on my back and helpless to move, I watched as he raised his hammer in preparation to smash down.

A dark shape, blurring through the air, struck him from the right.

Ghost has knocked down Usark.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ghost dig into the Rider with tooth and claw. There was nothing I could do to assist her, though. I couldn’t even turn my neck to the side to properly watch their tussle.

Which was just as well, because just then another dark shape blurred through the air. There was nothing friendly about this one, though.

A slime tentacle has hit you!

You have failed a magical resistance check! 

You have been befouled (speed reduced by 10% and life drained at 1% per second).

Snaking around my throat, the coils of oily darkness constricted.

A nightmare tentacle has drained 0.65% of your health (Force damage reduced by 35% due to void armor).

Involuntarily, I bucked. My back arched and my mouth yawned, trying to release a scream that Usark’s stun wouldn’t let me. 

There was worse to come, however.

A slime tentacle has hit you!

A slime tentacle has hit you!

A slime tentacle has hit you!