Chapter 390: Riding the White Lightning

Chapter 390: Riding the White Lightning

"It's nearly Go Time, people. You all have 30 minutes to get into position. Maximum stealth if you are anywhere outside of the heavy brush and trees. And use slow movement when moving through the forests, if they see vegetation moving they'll know an attack is coming. Assume they the look-outs can see in the dark. If the shit hits the fan, go for maximum damage, shock and awe. Maybe you succeed in getting in, but even if you don't you act as a distraction for someone else. If you don't know what to do, do something. Doing nothing will kill you just as quickly and is much less fun. You'll know when to start. We aren't going to be subtle at that point."

Everyone nodded, and the different groups split up. Two squads headed to the two gates on their side of the pass. Slysnake, Goofur, and Marko began their slow creep to a dimly lit section of the walls on the other side of the narrow pass that the keep guarded. Slow, because Goofur was in his hedgehog form, Slysnake was slithering along as a two-foot long bull snake, and Marko was riding in the snake's mouth. The Battle Master had taken a gamble and quaffed a Miniaturization Potion without knowing exactly what it did. After 10 seconds of the potion rumbling in his guts, he shrunk to one inch tall and became totally immobile, and his armor looked fabulous with four layers of base paint, dry brushing, a wash, highlights, and fine detail work. Slysnake had picked him up and marveled at his paint job before passing him around to the other guys who played Warhamster."I don't know if you can hear me or not, Marko, but you'd look damn fine leading any of my armies." After that, both he and Goofur had transformed and began a slow trip to their point of insertion.

The group of mages who were going to assault the walls with spells took it easy for a bit, drinking their beer and eating their bacon and sausage. The little town had shops that sold food with magical effects, and they'd spent their extra money on whatever they could afford. Mana potions and crystals were laid out, ready to use, and then they waited. To the left of them, a catapult was brought up and aimed at the walls.

The ammunition for that catapult was back further into the woods and named Bobby-Chuck Bumpkin. A non-stop grinder who loved to fight and rarely left the game, he'd hit Level 16 three months ago, and his class had taken a strange turn in Tier Four when he went from a Tier three Savage Barbarian to a Tier four Hill-Barbarian. He claimed it was an upgrade. All his friends blamed the change on his fondness for halfling-made corn liquor and square dancing at the monthly hoedown. But there was no question that he was tougher, stronger, dumber, and extremely hard to kill. He was also broke and needed real-world cash to pay rent, so he'd signed on with Alchemarx two weeks ago. Marko had devised a plan that took all of that into account. Bobby-Chuck was preparing by getting drunk, a difficult task for him normally because of his herculean ability to hold his liquor and his lack of funds. Marko had used some of the equipment funds to purchase ten-gallon jugs of distilled spirits. At the 30-minute mark, only four jugs had been emptied, and Bobby-Chuck picked up the pace. After he shattered the seventh jug on his forehead, his pupils disappeared, replaced by glowing white eyes that sparked. The eighth jug was chugged quickly, and then he grabbed nine and ten, one in each hand, alternating back and forth. A minute before the assault, he smashed both empty jugs over his head, belched, and looked around for the runway. Not sure that he'd remember which way to go, a wizard was there to cast a cantrip on him and send him down a dirt path to the catapult. He flexed, his muscles doubled in size, and his beard ignited in white flame. Filled with the burning power of pure corn whiskey, he was feeling no pain and ready to fly.

The mages began their assault, concentrating on one portion of the walls, trying to do enough damage to bring down a section. Seconds before they released their magic, a glow started at the top of the tallest tower, and a glowing shield surrounded the entire fortress, stretching down to the walls and into the ground. Spells aimed at the walls did nothing, and the lightning bolt thrown at the tower splashed harmlessly against the barrier. "Ah, hell, they got the damned thing working and charged up. Hit it again and see if we can weaken it. Potions were chugged, and another round of spells went off. These, too, were ineffective, but they did have the effect of showing two soldiers on the tower exactly where they were.

"Loaded, you're good to fire." Marius and Phillipus had flipped a coin for who got to be a gunner and loader. Marius had won the toss and got to kill the first invader. The shining black ballista fired, and the bolt sped away. A fire mage with burning hands took the shot directly in the chest, knocking him backward and pinning him to a tree stump. He wasn't quite dead, being Level 13, but he was bleeding, in need of a new lung, and turning green from poison.ReAd latest chapters at novelhall.com Only

Ares had watched the two soldiers, saying nothing, but he complimented them now as they changed places. "Well done. To hit at that range shows practice and dedication to the art of war."

And he was correct at first. The decurion on duty at the gate saw the wagon coming up the road driven by a terror-stricken farmer with a load of children in the back huddled together. Behind them came a fast-moving horde of goblins.

"Hmmm, somethings off, but I'm not sure what. Comments, gentlemen?"

The two soldiers serving gate duty stared into the night as far as their night vision would allow. As the wagon approached, one shook his head and shrugged helplessly, but the other smiled. "The goblins aren't even trying. The mules aren't nearly as panicked or lathered as they should be, and the goblins are running behind, keeping pace. I bet the goblins are half-drunk and having fun. They'll try to claim a reward for rescuing some 'poor lost farmers' and want some booze."

"Good eye. That was my assessment. The Chief would be pissed as hell if we took shots at them. Keep the gates open and let them into the courtyard, but let's keep the second gate closed. Get a couple of squads ready in case there are problems. The last thing I need is to explain to Centurion Marcus why he has drunken goblins searching the keep for booze at this late hour."

The wagon and pursuers advanced, and the wagon was about to go through the gate when the Hermetic Shield powered up. The Shield didn't slow them down, but it did change the situation. The goblins disappeared, and the wagon was revealed to be packing over a dozen players who leaped from it to begin their attack...

...only to realize they were in a large courtyard with no exit. The portcullis slammed down behind them, and they looked up at soldiers armed with crossbows, peaking through murder holes and ready to turn them into pin-cushions. As fire and lightning struck the Shield, the decurion made a decision: "Fire at will and sound the alarm. We're under attack!" Three towers could shoot their light ballistae at the courtyard, along with the two dozen soldiers stationed behind cover. It was quite 'shooting fish in a barrel.' These fish had a lot of health, good armor, and healers. Some of their arrows and spells got through and injured the soldiers shooting at them. Luckily, the soldiers were backed up by one of their own healers and a Courier who was at the Keep that night. The Legion healer handled the most heavily wounded while Ben kept up a steady stream of his Triage spell going out to injured soldiers, saving many lives. Crossbow bolts and spears rained down on the players, slowly whittling down their numbers. When their offensive attacks slacked off, and Ben didn't have to worry about healing, he reached for his biggest spell and summoned a column of Phoenix Fire on the group, finishing off most of them. The fire licked against the keep's walls, healing the injured mules and the nearby soldiers, negating most of the damage the players had done. After two more volleys of missile fire, all that was left in the courtyard was a dozen new headstones, a burnt wagon, and two traumatized mules.

The mules would have to wait, however. The top of the main tower was struck by lightning and burnt by fire, lighting up the night. With such an excellent diversion, it proved quite easy for a snake to transform into a large bat and lift a hedgehog to the top of the wall before the two of them scuttled away, looking for their main objective.