Grand Game 113: A Plan Gone Awry (Patreon)

Day Four. Early Afternoon.

I didn’t hesitate. Darting forward, I slapped my left hand on the goblin’s cheek. In the same motion, I drew spider’s bite and struck at the shaman’s throat.

Klaxis has passed a physical resistance check! You have failed to stun your target.

Klaxis has evaded your blow.

Amazingly, stunning slap failed me. I didn’t catch the shaman off guard by my sudden attack either. Moving nearly as quickly as I did, he sidestepped the blow meant to fell him.

The shaman’s right hand came around, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a wand slip out of the sleeve of his robe and into his palm.

Flinging out my left arm, I stopped the shaman before he could point the wand at me and unleash whatever spelled attack it contained.

You have blocked Klaxis’ attack.

Still holding the shaman’s hand, I lashed out with spider’s bite, tearing a jagged line down his left shoulder.

You have struck Klaxis a glancing blow. Webbed triggered!

Webbed failed. Your target has passed a physical resistance check!

The shaman shrieked and, in a move that caught me by surprise, stepped forward and head-butted me on the forehead.

I staggered back, head ringing.

“You will die, impostor!” Klaxis screamed as he brought his freed right hand around again to point squarely at me.

Coils of roiling orange energy rippled down the wand and burst out towards me. I hurled myself to the side, narrowly evading the lance of fire.

The bar of blazing energy struck the tent behind me, setting it alight. Ignoring the flames at my back, I rolled to my feet and threw myself forward again.

Muttering the words of another spell under his breath, the shaman recentered his wand on me. Another inferno fanned out. One-stepping, I leaped over the cone of flames.

You have evaded Klaxis’ attack.

Mid-air, I somersaulted.

From above, I caught the flash of teeth as the shaman flung up his head to gape at me in surprise. Flipping end over end, I landed softly behind my foe, and before he spun around, sheathed spider’s bite in his unprotected back.

You have critically injured Klaxis.

It was the goblin’s turn to stagger. Blood pumped out of his wounds, streaking his already crimson robes a darker shade. “Guards!” Klaxis cried, finally calling for aid.

From beyond the now-burning tent, I sensed a rising commotion. Ignoring it, I advanced on the retreating shaman. I could still salvage this mess if I managed to finish him before the rest of the goblins intervened.

“Help,” Klaxis gasped. “Help me kill the impos—”

He got no further. Charging forward, I crashed into the injured shaman’s back and bowled him over. He fell to the ground with me atop him.

Klaxis was not done fighting, though. Heaving for breath, he strained to lift himself up. Brutally, I shoved his head back down into the dirt, and before he could twist out of the way, I buried spider’s bite in his neck.

You have killed Klaxis. You have reached level 50!

Congratulations, Michael! You are now a rank 5 player.

I rose shakily to my feet, barely in time to assume a nonchalant stance and verify lesser imitate was still active, before two elite goblin warriors braved the flames to rush into the tent.

Mouths working soundlessly, the pair’s eyes darted between the corpse at my feet and my implacable expression.

“What are you two idiots gaping at?” I demanded in the most imperious manner I could manage. I pointed a finger at one of the goblins. He flinched, then flushed at his display of fear.

“Put that out,” I said, jerking my head towards the still-burning tent. I turned to the second goblin. “And you, take that away,” I added, waving negligently at the dead shaman.

Neither goblin moved.

Striving to conceal my unease—if lesser imitate failed me again, I was dead—I took a threatening step toward the warriors. “Now!” I roared.

The two scurried into motion, and some of the tension eased out of me. A third goblin ran into the tent. Before he could open his mouth, I spun towards him. “Go and fetch the senior apprentice. And tell him to bloody hurry!”

The goblin’s eyes flickered from me to his two companions busy doing my bidding. Bobbing his head in mute acknowledgment, the goblin pivoted about and ran out of the tent.

Given a moment alone, I exhaled sharply. My heart still thudded furiously in my chest, but slowly, I was regaining control of matters. I glanced at the two industriously working warriors. I had to tweak my original plan, I realized.

If I wanted to get out of this alive, I couldn’t give the goblins further cause for suspicion. Keep them guessing and too busy to think.

With studied unconcern, I folded my hands behind my back and strolled towards the table. A letter lay there. Casually, I let my eyes drift over it.

Shaman Klaxis, your request to begin a major onslaught against the Howlers is denied. You are, however, still permitted to continue your raiding operations. The Master is not yet ready to eradicate either of the other two tribes in the valley. Be patient. The time is fast approaching when we may move openly against them.

As to your second request, consider it granted. You and your people may freely kill any players not belonging to the Awakened Dead faction that you find in the valley—writ or no writ.

With regards to your last report, I find news of the assassinated apprentice disturbing. It appears your camp is no longer as secure as I’d thought. Transfer the prisoners immediately to the dungeon.

Yours truly,

Stayne.

With difficulty, I stopped myself from cursing as I read the note. Given its contents, Stayne must have penned it recently. I noticed, too, that the letter contradicted some of the ‘orders’ I’d tried issuing.

No wonder Klaxis was suspicious.

Starkly aware of the nearby goblin warriors, I reached down to the table and deftly swiped the letter. It confirmed Sturm’s information and proved the Awakened Dead’s duplicity, making its worth incalculable.

You have acquired Stayne’s letter.

Your task: Forging Dark Alliances! has been updated. You have acquired a damning note penned by a sworn servant of Erebus.

Optional objective revised: Pass on Stayne’s letter to Captain Talon. Objective two revised: Inform Captain Talon that the Red Rats and the Dark are already allied.

I stowed away the letter just in time.

A moment after I folded my arms behind my back, a red-robed goblin burst into the tent. His gaze drifted over the half-destroyed tent and his dead master before locking on mine.

“What happened here, Lord Stayne?” the apprentice asked cautiously.

“Your shaman was foolish enough to question my orders.” I smirked at him. “I hope you will not make the same mistake.”

To his credit, the goblin did not quake at my naked threat. “It will be my pleasure to serve, milord,” he said, bowing smoothly from the waist. “The Red Rats have pledged our allegiance to the Awakened Dead. We will do whatever the Master requires.”

“Excellent,” I murmured. “You will prepare your forces for immediate departure.”

Excitement danced in the apprentice’s eyes. “At last,” he breathed. “We are to move against the Howlers?”

I hesitated. It wasn’t my intent to pit the Red Rats against the Howlers—there was too much that could go wrong with that—but seeing the eagerness in the apprentice’s eyes, I realized he would be less likely to question my other orders if I gave him what he desired.

And besides, it will likely disrupt Erebus’ own plans.

“Yes,” I said finally. “But there is something else you must do first.”

The apprentice quivered with joy at my confirmation but retained enough discipline to wait for me to finish before celebrating.

“The Long Fangs must be wiped out,” I said.

The goblin frowned. “The Long Fangs? Why would—”

“What is your name, apprentice?” I asked, interrupting him. I could have analyzed him to find out, of course, but this way was easier.

“Nyzack, my lord,” he replied.

“Well, Nyzack,” I said, leaning back against the table, “you are dangerously close to crossing the same line your fallen leader fell foul off. Do you understand?”

The goblin stiffened and bowed. “I do, master.”

I let my smile deepen. “Flattering, but incorrect. There is only one Master.”

The apprentice bowed again. “I stand corrected, milord.”

“Now, will you heed my orders?” I asked.

“Yessir.”

“Excellent,” I said, pushing away from the table and straightening. “I expect the Long Fangs to be no more before noon tomorrow.” I paused. “Then, you may march on the Howlers.”

Unmitigated joy spread across Nyzack’s face at this prospect. “Thank you, milord,” he said fervently.

“Good, see it done.” Considering the matter closed, I strode towards the tent opening. Every second that I delayed my exit increased the chance of me being discovered.

“Sir...” Nyzack began.

Concealing a sigh, I turned around and looked at him inquiringly. “Yes?”

“What about the prisoners?” he asked.

I stroked my chin, pretending to consider his words. “Leave them here under guard.” I would have preferred to order the apprentice to free the Tartans, but that might have raised his suspicions.

No point taking chances now.

“As you wish,” the goblin replied.

Spinning about on my heels, I strode out of the tent. “Remember, noon tomorrow,” I said over my shoulder. “By then, the Long Fangs must be vanquished.”