Chapter 141: The Mountain
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Captain Arv

Portcullis Control Room, Outer Barbican, Fort Erment

Klent Arv was, at this moment in time, simultaneously the happiest and most nervous he'd ever been. Ikonnat eor Erment actually gave him and his squad of 14 a real, important Quest! After 7 years spent ignored and shoved aside, his efforts were finally showing fruit, and with it would come the opportunity to stand at the Ikonnat's side. Klent felt giddy at the prospect.

The years of hardship wouldn't be for nought, then. He'd have enough respect and authority to whisper in that man's ear and, in time, change his ways for the better. That was the dream he'd cherished and comforted himself with ever since he'd first seen the lonely Ikonnat nine years prior, while he accompanied his then tutor around the territory to hunt down tax evaders.

A happier ruler would make for a happier populace. And he dearly wished to see smiles on everyone's faces again.

Should he fail in this task, somehow, who knew when - or even if - he would get another chance to prove the worth of him and his trusted crew.

"Captain," his lieutenant's voice snapped him out of his daydreaming, "Found blood, but no bodies. Didn't look like it was enough to kill a man. Ladder to the roof has been smashed and the trapdoor locked, too - reckon there's somebody up there up to no good."

"Oho?" Klent's smile threatens to burst past his cheeks, "Interesting, interesting! I'll handle matters here then, you and Wollen split the squad and do as our liege has commanded."

"Sure you can manage it?" he asks, concerned for his old friend's safety.

"Who do you think you're addressing?! I'm Klent Arv, Captain of Arv Squadron and the greatest hero the land has seen since Ikonnat eor Erment himself!" Klent retorts half-jokingly.

To be clear, his self-evaluation was truly earnest, but he didn't really feel too insulted by Malco's doubts. It was just proof of his affection, after all - but as his direct superior, there's still a line in the proverbial sand that needs to be toed, so any further naysaying would be dealt with appropriately. One needed to have a stout heart and passionate optimism to get anywhere in life, and the Ikonnat was just the man to lead the way, that was simply common sense. Doubting Klent was the same as questioning Ikonnat eor Erment's decision - treason, in other words.

"Yeah, yeah. Need a leg-up to the trapdoor?"

Strolling casually out of a side-door onto the battlements, Klent chuckles slyly, "Why bother with the obvious way up?"

Looking up at the parapet, he smoothly draws his rapier and sockets a cloudy blue gemstone into the pommel. Klent had a premonition that he'd need to foot the hefty asking price associated with his mother's old blade. In exchange for a certain kind of Magic Core's power, it is able to exhibit a potent Elemental Lightning bonus.

The enchantment and construction are, unfortunately, inefficient and amateurish low Bronze-Tier dross compared to a more standardised product, but it has served two generations of his family with minimal issue. He'd only blasted himself to a sliver of his Health a couple dozen times by accident, and Klent whispered a prayer to the God of Forgecraft, Tarquil that it would not do so again.

Preparations complete, Klent slides a foot back and squats down, power gathering in his leg muscles. Taking one last moment to judge the distance, the tension is released in a burst, launching Klent high into the air - a little too high in fact as his calculations appear to have overshot the mark. The hangtime at least gives him a chance to observe the situation before landing.

The 1-Star Defender's Magicannons that - in brutal honesty - hadn't seen any proper use in decades had been moved from their traditional exterior-facing positions and turned onto the Outer Bailey, a pair of Foulet-looking types fussing over them in a hurry while a man with an oversized bow stands, arrow nocked and half-pulled between them.

As expected of an Archer-type, he notices the sudden appearance of Klent almost instantly, and in the space of a second's hesitation, chooses to ignore him, his gaze returning to a brawl of blood and steel in the distance. A shot from here would be all but impossible for an ordinary Archer, Klent judges, but given their traditional cowardice, the decision to ignore him and stand firm is even more unusual.

Was this lanky bastard looking down on him?!

Landing at the edge of the parapet, atop a crenellation and absorbing the impact with bent knees, he makes use of the coiling of his legs to leap at the arrogant Archer, who even now refused to acknowledge his existence despite the swiftly approaching sword. Suspicious, Klent refrains from wasting one of his skills on an opportunity that feels too good to be true.

Twisting his hips jerkily in mid-air to corkscrew around, his sword trails the same orbit and clashes with a pair of extended knives wielded by a blurry figure, eliciting a curse of disappointment. Klent's momentum, however, continues to propel him towards the archer, and the rough collision almost leaves them both in a tangled-up heap on the floor, the Element Fencer managing to just barely regain some footing to avoid sprawling out with the help of his substantial dexterity.

"Had you to rights," the short, blurry woman complains.

"As if it were remotely possible for some common rogue to fell the great Klent Arv!" Klent scoffs, correcting his posture, "In the name of Mhon iu Erment, you are unlawfully trespassing on the reigning Ikonnat's territory, and will die for the affront."

"Cute," she snorts, fading from view in an instant.

'Two Stealth-type Skills?'

Perhaps not so common after all. Skill Gems with Stealth-type abilities locked within are heavily regulated by every governing body in the world as a matter of common sense, along with a few other varieties if Skill Gem such as Pouch Slice, a remote pickpocketing Skill. Even Infamous organisations only give them out for sale or trade to people with a proven track record, according to a rumour.

Klent hops back, sending a pulse of magical power to his free hand,"<Grasp of Elements>"

The archer that had just about recovered has his face grabbed roughly, and immediately starts to shake and gurgle as smoke rises from between the clutching fingers. If he could scream he would, but the enormous amount of Elemental Lightning coursing through his system has paralysed his vocal cords as his organs flash-fry in his body.

When Klent releases his hand to block the sudden reappearance of the Rootman assassin, the archer collapses backwards, either dead or out cold, he didn't really care so long as it was one less variable, "So there's sentimentality between murderous criminals, after all?"

"Bastard!" the Rootman woman's heated insult accompanies a flurry of strikes, which the captain deftly blocks and parries as he dances around with her. Impressing him is the minimal openings in her attacks even in a pique as she was. Dual-wielding is already a tricky affair, and the extremely short-reach she has compared to him also isn't doing her any favours, but her speed and co-ordination perhaps exceeds his own.

However...

"Argh!" she staggers back, a fresh cut across her lips and cheek.

"Hm, better than expected, but you're still no swordsman," Klent evaluates, bringing his sword back to rest, glancing back at the frantically working Foulets. Rather than continuing this farce of a 'duel' he needed a better opening with which to deal with them for the sake of the greater context. The magicannons, old and faulty as they are, cannot be allowed to fire on his comrades and beloved Ikonnat.

Sucking a breath through clenched teeth, the woman sets her stance once again, silent in her anxiety. He was correct, her expertise and Class were not meant for a prolonged and direct confrontation with a dedicated melee combat specialist. That didn't mean her chances of victory were non-existent, but it was an uphill battle from the very start - she hadn't expected for someone to just jump straight to the top of the building, ignoring the trapdoor she'd been lurking at in expectation of an easy ambush.

"Well, I suppose the Flits must be hungry for their meal, best not keep them waiting," he mumbles absent-mindedly, "Hey, what's your name?"

"...What's it matter?" his opponent asks warily.

"You're about to die," Klent smiles amiably, "It'd be a shame if you did so in anonymity. It will make my memoirs a little more interesting."

"...Hen njhe ahsgo'bl," she curses in response, switching her left hand-grip and leaning heavily on her forward knee.

"<Element Blade> <Conduit Steel>," Klent invokes his sword's Active Skill and the finisher move of his Class, then bows his head respectfully while lightning arcs dance across the length of his blade, "Goodbye, nameless one. Unfortunately, as much as I'd love to drag this out for the sake of glorious fun, I don't wish to disappoint Ikonte."


 

Inner Bailey

A bright flash of light from the corner of my vision behind me. Then, a thunderclap rocks the area, and for a moment I wonder if the big brute activated another Skill to quake the earth, but even the Mountainbreaker pauses, stunned by whatever it is he witnessed.

"...Sprout," he mutters dumbly, his face slack before hardening even more than before, the playful glee at the dozen soldiers he's crushed vanishing, "Better be safe, you old ahsgo'n."

Of course, I'm not polite enough to let his distraction go to waste when I'm fighting a losing battle, and my weapon traces a long line across his thigh as I retreat backwards from his even longer reach. The wound doesn't phase him, and he focuses solely on me now.

The Roar was of great help in pushing back the majority of the bandit chieftain's minions, but he shrugs off injury as though he were walking through sleet. Even lightly armoured as he is, I'm having a difficult time breaking through his solid muscle and thick hide to deal more than surface-level scratches - and if even with the best gear I'm having a difficult time, it goes without saying that my soldiers aren't having any luck either.

He's got Strength and Resilience out of the wazoo, and just the sheer size alone does a lot to make up for his somewhat lacking speed. Every swing of his hammer can threaten a man up to 10ft away just from the aftershocks, and woe betides any that gets hit head-on. Armour or no armour, they're getting crumpled like a can of cheap lager.

With that all in mind, I've been slowly leading him backwards out of the main fight so I can deal with him myself without needing to worry about collateral damage. Not that I can see myself felling this giant alone, but it'll give the militia space to clean up the dregs for as long as he's determined to focus on me. A tactic he employed at the start - but he seems to have fallen prey to a bad case of tunnel vision.

Most of my efforts are spent staying out of his territory. But I don't have much longer until his Skills come back off cooldown, and if he lands even one stun, it's instant death for me.

"You ain't like I heard, Ikonnat," Niirk grunts from the exertion of a thrust of his warhammer, which I sidestep before dodging back to avoid a follow-up sweeping attack, "You're weak. Cowardly. I expected a good time, and I gotta say I'm disappointed."

I don't prescribe to mid-fight banter other than as a means to an end, but I decide to humour him for the novelty of it, "I'm not here for your entertainment."

I'm here for the real Count Erment's, to be pedantic about it.

Niirk smiles sadistically, "You don't think so? Well, ya fancy little shit, I disagree. You're all here to entertain and amuse me!"

"Trying to fill the void left by your wife, I take it?" I ask pointedly, definitely crossing some kind of line. His gaze darkens considerably.

"Don't you fucking talk about her," he growls, muscles tightening, attacks coming out fiercer and heavier. The trail of wind that follows in the wake of his hammer is almost tangible and thrumming with the latent force of each swing. Making him angry perhaps wasn't the wisest move, but if it narrows his focus onto me even more, it'll just give my troops more breathing room.

Unfortunately, at the worst possible timing, his first used Skill comes back off cooldown, "<Quake Hammer>!"

Aiming for the moment where my feet touch back onto the ground from a dodge, he brakes the momentum of his upward backswing and drives the hammer's head down into the brickwork. Vertigo and a wave of blunt force penetrates through my armour and rattles my organs like a jar of coffee beans. I lose balance and fall flat, crushed down by an invisible force.

"If it weren't for snobbish 'n' greedblind ergat like you, she'd still be alive," he growls, yanking his embedded weapon out from the crater it created and raising it high to finish me, "Now, I'll get to see what about this life o' yours is so good you'd let that happen. Let the flits feast on you nice'n slow."

Despite the impending demise, I remain calm, if a bit flustered. From my belt, I pull and hastily throw a knife directly at his face. The throw is clumsy from a prone position, and in light of his tough defences barely a threat even if it were to hit - but what I bank on to happen, happens.

He flinches. It's not something he can really control if he's not expecting it - it's a natural reflex to protect one's face above most other threats of bodily harm. The distraction is negligible, but the break in concentration is enough for the milliseconds of CC duration to wear off. That's all I need to roll out of the way of the descending hammer, the force of impact bouncing me away a few extra steps.

I recover mid-air into a kneeling position, sliding away on hand and knee, my halberd lost at some point in the scuffle.

"Just die already!" Niirk rages, pulling his hammer back up and turning to pursue.

From my inventory, I retrieve my blanechblett, and launch forwards, landing with one foot deep inside his 'territory', arms coiled and ready to run him through - but I refrain, leaping to the right as he musters a short-ranged jab with the end of his warhammer's haft. Finding myself on his flank, I take a quick, deep breath and launch myself high into the air, using his elbow as a foothold.

Suddenly panicking, he twists around to face me, arms bring around the warhammer to block and strike I make. The display of acrobatics is seriously straining my reflexes and coordination in light of the control delay. I push through it, though, landing on his raised warhammer's haft and rolling off into a somersault the places me behind him. I fall quickly and heavily on one leg, ramming the sword through the gap in his shoulder armour into his left armpit. A trickle of blood falls down the blade, the Mountainbreaker grunting. Definitely a softer area - he felt that one.

A backwards kick connects with my abdomen, sending me reeling back several paces and winding me. There's a noticeable dent where the heel made contact in the half-plate that surely would have crushed several ribs and made breathing basically impossible - even puncturing the heart of a Firm if they're unlucky. My Silva constitution and the maiming injury-retardant nature of player Vessels is really coming in clutch here, I have to say.

"So you got some stones in you after all," Niirk breathes slowly, trying to calm himself.

"Mm. Unfortunately, I'm not in peak condition, but I can still put up a fight," I comment without irony, "Make no mistake, I don't know what your reason for being here is, nor do I care. You, and the rest of the Lovno Reivers, will die in short order."

Casualties for my side sit at a somewhat worrying 41, now, but the sound of carnage has lessened significantly in the past ten to twenty seconds of combat. They've almost wrapped up now, and barely a couple dozen bandits remain, most of which are significantly wounded and in the process of being surrounded. Their deaths are inexorable.

Finally, Niirk realises the situation he's in and frowns. A swirl of torrid emotions passes through his face, and he makes the sudden decision to abandon our duel, loping purposefully back towards the fighting. I have no intention of allowing that, of course. After chugging down a health potion, I Bull Rush to catch up to him and jab my sword into his other armpit while his back is turned.

"I didn't give you permission to leave," I inform him, jamming it further in, such that an entire half-inch of steel is embedded into his body.

With his other - still wounded - arm, he reaches around himself and encloses his hand around the blade, halting it's movement and, overpowering me, yanks it out, ignoring the laceration of his palm and fingers, "I go where I damn well please."

He half-turns, and pulls the sword from my grip - I let it go to avoid being dragged along - then tosses it roughly away a goodly distance. I won't be retrieving it in a hurry. The freed arm wielding his warhammer swings backwards at me, forcing me to duck beneath. Although the damage I dealt is likely negligible, I still notice that his movements are slower than before, the rotational orbit of his shoulder stiffer and restricted.

His 'Health' might not have gone down by much, but he's still taken a severe injury to his arms' motor functionality. While crouched down, I retrieve my boot knife and a throwing knife, rolling through a downward smash attack. Standing up quickly I throw the knife at his face again, and bring my one-hander from my inventory. Down to my last weapons now.

I'm not any better at dual-wielding than I am with the halberd, but I don't plan on doing anything too fancy with it. It's just another sharp thing to stick him with. Perhaps realising that he might actually be in danger if ignores me at this stage after all, he raises a foot - that stomp Skill is incoming, looks like.

I hop in anticipation of his foot's contact with the ground - but the Skill doesn't come. It was a feint. The hammer moves in to capitalise on my vulnerability.

"IKONTE! <Element Arrow>!"

A familiar voice cries out, accompanied by a blast of lightning. Niirk's body shudders as the electricity courses through him. I don't miss the chance, completing my recovery and jumping up, blades headed for his throat while he is momentarily paralysed. The debuff wears off before that, and he leans away, the swipe of my steel meeting empty air instead of flesh. Tough bastard, this one.

"Not a chance!" he roars, "Fine! <Hernel's Earthrage>!"

That's not a good thing to hear. I don't exactly have a comprehensive recollection of every Skill in-game, but that sounds distinctly like a berserk-type Skill. For the duration of the effect, he'll be immensely more powerful in some way - but weakened for a while once the burst of power dissipates.

His skin visible turns the texture of craggy stone, overall looking more like an abandoned statue than anything. Gonna need a pickaxe and an Expert Miner to break through that outer shell - as if he needed to be any more absurdly tanky than he already is, my sword just dings off of his skin now, leaving visible rolling where the edge has flattened and curled. No point trying to fight back, just need to waste time until the Skill expires.

Something that would be easier if Klent was able to stun him again, but as a side-effect of becoming a man made of stone, he appears to have inherited a hefty resistance to electrocution. The vainglorious Squad Captain's Lightning Element imbued sword doesn't so much as faze him, and the man himself likely placed a strong focus on Agility and Imagination, so he definitely isn't doing much in the way of physical damage. Niirk has become a literal stone wall.

"A-har! Ya can't reach me like that!" the mountainous man gloats, then smashes the ground to activate his second crowd control Skill, "My turn. <UPHEAVAL>!"

I try to jump out the way, activating Reaver's Tenacity. Captain Arv screams out, a much larger stone spike than the first go-around erupting from the ground and skewering through his thigh without resistance after twisting out its path to avoid a fatal wound. A chunk of my flank is ripped apart, my own movements much slower, going straight through where my liver would have been if I actually had one.

-3206

Fuck me that stings!

Bastard just took me down to double-digit health with that. Without the flat damage reduction from my defensive Skill, that would have spelt the end for me. What remains starts to rapidly dwindle away as bodily fluids gush from the gaping hole in my side. My MP drops along with it as what passes for blood to a Silva escapes as well, my mind starts to cloud over, thoughts jumbling up into each other like a traffic collision. I'm blacking out here.

Niirk laughs heartily, throwing his head back, mouth wide in an exaggerated smile. I've got five seconds left. Not going down without a fight, need to make this count. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping me conscious at this juncture, and the sheer amount of it flooding my brain is enough to experience a sort of time dilation. Can't think straight, but I don't need to.

Surprising him with my continued existence, I rush forward and leap upwards, his mouth gaping in shock. He curses in distorted slow-motion as my sword enters it and rams down his throat. Your skin may be tough as bedrock, but it doesn't seem like the rest of you enjoys the same privilege, does it you mouthy cunt?

True Strike!

-1799

"I duly....plant my flag atop this mmmountain...in the name of Truthseekersss," I quip with a slur as my vision fades and the last of my strength drains from my Vessel. The sound of Niirk choking on the sword and gurgling through his ruined and blood-filled throat are my lullaby.

Congratulations, your party has defeated Niirk Blaston(Grand Elite)!

No Experience is awarded while due to this Legacy Trial's parameters.

 

The Iron Lord's Legacy: Usurpation Complete!

Kill Niirk Blaston and The Lovno Reivers 1/1

Incur Less Than 50 Ally Casualties 1/1

Ally Casualties Incurred: 48

Time Remaining: 0:47:02

Rewards

Class Change Available: Iron Lord

Title: The Iron Lord's Usurper

Formal Signet of House Erment

Ancient Inolian Pridespear Schematic

A Faded Wymmrskin-bound Journal

+20 To All Basic Attributes

Note: When changing Class, existing Attribute Bonuses gained via Level increases will change to that of the new Class's values instead and incompatible Skills, Spells etc. will be permanently locked until eligible once more.

(Rewards will be granted upon exiting the Legacy Trial)

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