NOVEL NEXT Chapter 23: Boogaloo
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Karen: So you'll join us?
Harry: Heck yeah. My fans were already drooling over the idea of a Cuts_by_Karen collab. This just makes it official.
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Sunday, November 10th, 2091, about 11:15 am MST, Ghostlands, Kingdoms Server, Far Gate (14,802 viewing)
"Take two: electric boogaloo!" exclaimed Harry, stepping forward and giving Gordon a manly shove to the shoulder. "Glad you could make it back to us."
"You two were gone a long time," said Claire, eyes narrowed. "I'm too young to be an aunt, you know. I hope you used protection."
Karen shifted the swords at her hips, not looking at Gordon for fear she'd smirk. It wouldn't be fair to him for her to egg them on, not when the whole thing was streaming and probably being watched by his girlfriend. "Coffee break," she said instead.
"Places, people!" said Gordon. He sounded a bit like a Hollywood director, his affected drawl nowhere to be found—he was serious, so they would be as well. Karen took her spot, just to the right of and behind Claire, across Claire from Gordon. The hound went on the other side of the formation from them, with Harry in the middle as a buffer. "Just in case."
They stepped forward as a group, tension in the air. One step - nothing. Two steps - nothing. Three steps, and auroral lights began to play inside the ice crystals, but they didn't see any change to the smooth surface of the gate in front of them. Claire began pre-casting, probably fire immunity for Harry. Karen tried to focus in and blot out the distraction of her mumbled incantation—it had always amused her slightly, her friend's calm, clipped board-room summary voice following a nonsense rhyme with complete poise and seriousness.
He hefted his belt in the game, his real-world analog having shifted. His character exhaled a plume of white into the cold.
The atmospheric music cut in—something high and drawn out, piccolo and strings. Oddly fitting.
On the fourth step, as Gordon's foot came down, a mirror image of his foot emerged from the reflective surface of the glacier wall like something protruding through a pool of mercury. First came the gunslinger—a twin to Gordon, every detail reproduced exactly. Then the wizard and the duellist, the knight, and the hound. Gordon stifled a sigh. Pets were such a pain in this game—bringing one along meant this battle would go from half real players, half AI to 60-40. It was diluting the drama for the viewers, among other things.
Gordon stopped in his tracks. His double looked him in the eye with a steely glare, hands hovering over his holsters. It was going to be a gunfight.
Several yards away, Karen's own double looked her over with scorn in her face, dismissively drawing only a single saber. Oh, it is on, Karen thought. Her eyes were glued to the impending gunfight. He looked so calm, so sure of himself—it was impossible not to watch.
All the nerves he'd been experiencing were apparently lost in the moment, and he was immersing himself in the roleplay of it—hands hovering, a glare to counter the AI's mean mugging.
"Draw," said the duplicate. Its hands plunged for its pistols, following a lightning fast draw animation Karen remembered helping Gordon record early in the year. She could just barely follow the motion of it as it blurred up out of its holster, just in time for a red dot to bloom between its eyes.
Crack. Crack, crack crack. Crack. Ping.
As the gunslinger fell, so did the wizard and the duelist, though Karen's double, doing her proud, had already begun to weave into a dodge. The AI had been fast, but Gordon had been faster. The sharp sound of his gunfire echoed in Karen's ears as the bodies hit the icy ground.
Harry's duplicate, however, wasn't so easily dealt with. The visor shot aimed at its head sparked off with a flash of light, the metal plating on its armor deflecting the bullet. The hulking figure bellowed, raising a massive, armor-plated arm to shield its face as its faerie hound snarled and lunged forward at the group, each apparent step taking it across yards of intervening distance.
"Damn," Harry muttered, readying his weapon. "Show-off."
For some reason, Harry's hound was fleeing, tail between its legs. Karen cackled as she drew her sabers. "Might as well have two," she quoted wryly.
> Precious_Taters: Bad puppy!
> xTreme_Snooze: NOOOO
> UrbanHouseMoose: That's fairies for you. Worst gifts ever.
Gordon had only drawn one revolver, his right one. Now he drew his second, holstering his first and taking a two-handed grip. With careful aim at the knight, he punched a hole through the thin armor under the arm that was holding up the gauntlet, blocking its visor. It flinched, dropping its arm, and its helmet spat more sparks from his follow-up rounds.
He wouldn't have much luck.
Karen had built her character to be a tank killer. As the first in the group to join the game, she'd had the most time to think about what that meant. She'd been intensely focused on countering the, at the time, dominant player build in the meta.
The greatest strength of a dedicated tank, she found, was the massive multiplier to their armor rating. The exact formula was fuzzy since the developers constantly rebalanced the system and never shared the math outright. The community had deduced something like 2 × Grit + Dignity as the base multiplier for everyone's armor, but knight-specific armor (full plate with riveted mail, garnitures) had higher base ratings—12 and 12 versus the 8 of the traditional brigandine or the 6 of a lorica or classic banded armor. Knights had a natural advantage because no other class would dump points into Grit just to equip knight armor, which required it.
Grit didn't just allow you to wear heavy armor. It also raised your resistance to poison, temperature extremes, and other effects. It contributed to your health pool, calculated as something like level time twice Grit times some class-based multiplier (though that wasn't usually relevant to Karen, who would be one-hit pretty much no matter who hit her, and considered herself to be either healthy, wounded, or dead). She didn't focus on health because her strategy revolved around avoiding hits entirely. After all, no matter how much Grit she had, she couldn't survive a single hit from someone who specialized in it.
Tanks, for all their massive health pools and excellent armor, had weaknesses. Mobility was a critical factor—heavy armor slowed you down unless you had a horse. While one disregarded the speed of the tip of a two-handed sword or polearm at one's peril, their limited ability to move made them vulnerable to counters.
Another key feature of tanks was shield use. Shields blocked a percentage of damage, other than perfect blocks, angled to deflect attacks entirely. Most classes distained the use of tower shields, like the one Harry used, due to their weight, but if one were essentially stationary anyway, such things were suddenly nothing but upsides. Tower shields of Harry's style were essentially doors with two large, garden-trowel-shaped spikes at the bottom, which allowed him to plant it into the ground for stability. Harry's sported netting on the inside, into which he'd placed potion bottles for health and stamina. This setup enabled Harry to provide constant cover for Claire, whose spellcasting would otherwise have left her exposed.
Karen saw shields as a weakness. Wrestling one away from a stationary knight wasn't impossible, and it turned their cover into a vulnerability. Knights also struggled with terrain, turning speed, and close-quarters combat. Grappling was another weak point due to their limited range of motion.
Knights carried sidearms as contingency weapons, historically: Rondel daggers on lanyards used for close defense. The best way to counter an attacker armed with one was to carry one yourself. However, Harry didn't rely on a sidearm, and so neither did his double. Claire's usual tactic involved casting Floor is Lava and granting Harry fire immunity, letting him stand at the edge of the lava pool while enemies couldn't approach. Claire herself hid behind Harry in the pool, using him as both cover and deterrent. Without the advantage of magic, though, the knight could be flanked or overwhelmed.
Probably not shot, though—especially after guns had been nerfed versus armor.
The other pressing issue was the damn faerie hound. Karen thought its true species might be "Grim," based on the lore books she'd read. It was enormous—brown-black with a head like a Saint Bernard, the coat of a wolf, and an eerie fae glow around its eyes and mouth. Enhanced by magic, it could see in the dark, track footprints by heat, and even perceive invisible targets. Its bite disintegrated armor. Harry's had turned out to be a coward, because of course it was. Probably Harry's penalty for misunderstanding the faerie lady's riddle—a resource drain that wouldn't even contribute to the party.
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Gordon had been secretive about this mission, much like when he'd orchestrated a heist to acquire the headdress for Claire. Back then, he'd used and abused the bonuses from his outlaw class to orchestrate a vault raid. Once his actions had pushed him into the virtuous alignment, he became a gunslinger instead, which Karen suspected had always been his goal.
Gordon's plotting was probably solid, but Karen had a feeling today's payoff revolved around Marie somehow. And she knew exactly how she felt about that, even if she pretended otherwise.
Most avatars in the game served one of two purposes: custom NPCs or player companions for another server. Karen used hers as a shopkeeper. She crafted leather goods and programmed her avatar to sell them in the market. It wasn't game-breaking, but it was convenient. Avatars could be scripted with complex dialogue, though Karen didn't care much for that level of customization—it felt like work. Gordon, on the other hand, could program intricate systems and had offered to show her some of his advanced scripts. She'd declined; programming was for her job, not her leisure. She suspected she knew what he'd been working on, though—an avatar.
Marie and Gordon didn't have publicly published avatars, which was her first clue. The Far Gate was for allowing avatars—whether shopkeepers or companions—to pass to other servers. A player companion avatar was designed to assist friends on Mars or in the Belt: healing, fighting, and carrying their gear. They could also talk, which—well, Karen hoped Marie had enough self-control not to make her avatar unbearably irritating if that's what she was planning. A player companion following the party around, constantly proclaiming eternal devotion, would drive her up the wall.
Karen made an effort to focus. The goal was to kill the doppelgängers: grim and knight. She could worry about why they were using the gate later.
The knight barreled forward, its heavy boots crunching across the icy ground, shield raised like a battering ram, deflecting Harry's opening swing with a brutal shove. It was fast—Karen barely had time to shout a warning before the doppelganger threw the shield bodily at Claire, edge-on. The impact sent her flying, her new staff spinning out of reach as she crashed to the ground with a pained yelp. The grim was on her instantly, dark jaws clamping around her upper leg with crushing force.
Karen's attention snapped back to the knight as it pivoted, its grip shifting smoothly to a two-handed sword. The blade arced through the air in a sweeping horizontal slash, forcing Karen to leap back. But it wasn't done. In one fluid motion, the knight planted its feet and stepped forward, its grip shifting to prepare for a single-handed lunge.
Karen drew her sabers in a flash. The knight's thrust came straight for her chest—fast and deliberate. She caught the blade in the X of her sabers, the clash of steel against steel sending vibrations up her arms.
It was strong, no question about that, but it wasn't quick enough to stop her. Karen pivoted sharply, sliding her crossed sabers to the outside of the knight's thrusting hand. With a practiced motion, she released the bind and began to angle for her own counter-lunge aimed at the gap under the knight's raised arm.
Before she could strike, the sound of Gordon's revolver filled the air—a rapid, rolling crack-crack-crack-crack-crack-crack, like one long, continuous retort. The shots hit their mark, slamming into the knight's exposed side in a tight grouping. The force of the impacts staggered it, forcing it to shift its stance.
Karen didn't waste the opening. She lunged, her right saber darting toward the gap under the knight's arm. The blade bit into the vulnerable joint, but the knight twisted sharply before she could drive the attack deeper.
Its two-handed sword came down in a brutal arc, aimed at her exposed side. Karen sprang back, her sabers coming up instinctively to deflect. The blow glanced off her right blade, but the force of it sent her skidding across the ice.
"Nice save!" Karen called to Gordon, her breath coming fast as she reset her stance. "Harry has been sandbagging this whole time. Who knew he was such a hidden bad-ass?"
Harry shot her a wordless, incredulous look of betrayal.
"Don't stop moving!" Gordon shouted back.
The fae hound snarled and lunged at Harry, its glowing eyes locked onto him as it sprang forward, jaws dripping with blood. Harry braced himself, his shield angled to take the hit, but the beast was much faster than he'd anticipated. It collided with him in a blur of fur and teeth, the impact driving him back a step.
Harry growled as he swung his shield to the side, forcing the hound off balance. It snapped at him, its jaws glowing with an eerie fae aura, but Harry brought his pommel down hard on the side of its head with a dull crack.
The hound shook its massive head in reaction, but it wasn't done. It lunged again, claws scrabbling for purchase on the icy ground, and this time Harry let it hit him full force in the lower half of the shield. With a grunt of effort, he stopped it dead, leaning the shield forward and down, and threw his full weight on top of the beast. Claire fumbled with health potions, her character's skin white with blood loss.
"Stay down, you stupid mutt!" Harry growled, his voice strained as he wrestled the hound into submission. Its jaws snapped futility, inches from his face, but on the wrong side of a sheet of steel. He held it pinned, using the weight of his armor to keep it from breaking free.
Pinning. Like parkour for Pace users, Pinning was bread and butter for Grit users—sure, it took effort to get someone down, usually a Courage-related action, but once they were down it was opposing Grit checks to maintain a pin. The downside was that Harry would be out of action too.
The hound thrashed violently, its claws tearing at the ground, but its position on the ice kept it from gaining traction. Claire, still dazed, was scrambling to her feet nearby, clearly vulnerable but more hale, the potion having done its work.
"He's ready for you—anytime, Claire!" Harry shouted, her as he struggled to keep the hound contained.
"Working on it!" Claire replied, fumbling for her staff as she regained her footing. Her area spells wouldn't be too useful at this moment. Karen couldn't actually think of any spells her friend had that didn't affect an area larger than, say, a studio apartment.
Meanwhile, Gordon was already on the move. He holstered his empty revolver, hands moving quickly and smoothly in the process of reloading both weapons, an efficiency born of long, even real-world practice. His boots crunched against the ice as his path described a wide arc, positioning himself behind both knight and hound.
"Karen, keep it turning!" he called. "I'll go for the enfilade!"
She'd never heard the word said out loud before they'd begun gaming together.
Karen didn't need to be told twice. She darted to the knight's offside, her sabers flashing as she struck at its exposed flank, along the mail and straps. The strikes didn't deal much damage—her sabers weren't built to pierce heavy armor, and her angle hadn't been ideal—but they forced the knight to pivot, shifting its focus away from Gordon.
The knight growled, its helmeted head snapping toward Karen as it adjusted its stance. Its two-handed sword came down in another furious swing, but Karen spun away, the dull back of her saber deflecting the edge just enough to redirect its momentum.
Crack. Crack. Crack. Gordon's revolver fired again, each shot hitting the knight's exposed back with deadly precision. The impacts knocked it off balance, and Karen seized the moment, stepping inside its guard.
Her sabers came together in a tight X, catching the knight's two-handed sword mid-thrust. The blade shuddered against hers, the force of the impact vibrating through her arms. Karen could feel the strength behind it—massive, unrelenting—but she didn't try to overpower it. Instead, she twisted sharply, driving the sword's tip downward until it dug into the icy ground.
As the knight braced to recover, Karen stepped into her lunge. Her forward foot landed firmly on the flat of the sword just behind the fuller, her weight driving it further into the ground.
The knight strained to lift the weapon one-handed, but with Karen's weight positioned halfway along its length, the sword became a lever—the knight's end of it now "weighing" not just the blade itself but the full weight of Karen as well. It struggled against the unexpected resistance, the gauntleted hand creaking on the grip as it tried to wrench the blade free, but it was too late.
Karen's right saber disengaged in one fluid motion, angling into a straight thrust toward the vulnerable chainmail coif beneath the knight's helmet. The point of her blade darted forward with surgical precision, aiming for the gap just beneath the helm's edge.
Her left saber came up instinctively into a guard position, ready to deflect the inevitable counter. She could feel the weight of the knight's strength pressing back against her boot as it twisted sharply beneath her, the blade slipping free just before her thrust could land, the knight throwing himself to the side.
Karen's blade darted forward, the point angling toward the gap beneath the knight's helmet—but it twisted sharply beneath her. The sudden motion sent her thrust wide, the knight wrenching its blade free with a violent pull. It staggered to the side, the tip of its sword slashing upward in a wild arc. Karen barely managed to throw herself back, her left saber snapping up just in time to deflect the strike. Her breath clouded in the cold air, her muscles taut with tension as she circled to the knight's offside once more.
"This thing's not giving up!" she called, the frustration clear in her voice.
"That's because you're fighting me!" Harry barked from behind her, his voice strained but still full of his usual bravado. The hound thrashed beneath him, claws scrabbling against the ice as he used the weight of his armor to keep it pinned. "And I don't give up either!"
"I've got an idea!" Claire yelled, her staff raised high as white wisps of magic began to churn and spread across the battlefield.
"NO AREA SPELLS!" Gordon shouted, his voice frantic.
But it was too late. The mist poured out in all directions, hissing faintly as it met the icy ground. Karen's eyes stung almost immediately, tears springing to her vision as the acidic vapor clung to her skin. It wasn't strong enough to deal significant damage right away, but the sting was impossible to ignore.
> Randoon_the_Wizard: With friends like these, who needs enemies?
Karen swore, blinking hard as her eyes teared up.
"That was the last thing we needed," Gordon said wearily.