He popped Rupert back into his inventory, where the fish would wait until the icon for Twist of Fate flashed, indicating it’d come off cooldown. Darren sprinted down the beach towards the sailors prepping for combat.
He still couldn’t see what was making the eardrum-gouging screeches, but they were drawing swiftly nearer.
“Please don’t let this whole build be a wave-based combat event…” he said as he ran. Maybe partially to Poseidon, hoping the AI wouldn’t be that mean.
Though did Poseidon control events like this? The documentation that Forbidden Worlds Gaming had provided only briefly mentioned the AI overminds running the game, saying there were a handful, each designated to different tasks. But so far, he’d seen some crossover, both Poseidon and Themis had handed out quests. What about the other AI? Could they? Was there one in control of monsters?
So many questions, and now was not the time for them. A notification blinged, but he ignored it as he reached the defenders, already feeling some grinding around inside his socks. Sand would even manage to get inside a hazmat suit, he was certain…
Eric had a cutlass drawn and was yelling orders to the crew, who had already turned the two longboats into rough cover. Two dozen crew had muskets out and at the ready. They’d formed two rows, the front row kneeling behind the longboats, the second row behind, waiting for the first volley before they’d switch places.
Darren pulled out Rupert and stunned him. Two stacks of Twist of Fate. Eight more until total time freeze. “Where do you want me, Eric? I have Summoned Swivel Gun.” While he was loath to ask the man anything, it was better for one person to organise the defence.
Eric glanced at him, disdain on his face. “Out of my way.” He returned to shouting at the crew, ignoring Darren.
Well, he’d tried to be civil… Darren flipped off the marine’s back then jogged behind the row of sailors, feeling the tension rising off of them as they waited, hands tight on weapons, the horrific screeches growing ever nearer.
Darren ducked behind a barrel—not much cover, but it was available and better than nothing. The remainder of the 25 crew had swords drawn and hid behind whatever they could. He removed Rupert from his inventory, casting Twist of Fate before stuffing the fish back. Three stacks.
The screeches stopped.
The bay was still; only the sound of distant breakers and the soft lapping of small waves on the beach behind him could be heard. No insects. No birds. And no unholy, nails-on-chalkboard screeching.
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Darren peeked from behind the barrel.
In time to see a thick cloud of flying creatures loom into view, maybe 100 metres away. Rays of the sun from the early dawn hit the creatures, their black hide seeming to consume it, creating a void in the sky.
“Picklesticks…” Why did it have to be a swarm? He hated swarm combat. It looked like… bats?
Darren summoned his swivel gun, configuring it for buckshot, and set it charging. Once it was charged, he could hold that shot for the perfect moment.
He removed Rupert from his inventory and cast Twist of Fate. Four stacks.
“Hold!” Eric yelled to the musketeers.
The bats were 70 metres away. Twist of Fate would come off cooldown shortly after the bats came into range of the skill.
“Hold!” Eric yelled again.
The bats were now 60 metres away and descending.
Darren could just make out individual bats in the swarm now. There were hundreds of them. They were “only” level 4, but that number would decimate the 50 sailors.
50 metres.
“Fire!” Eric yelled.
A dozen muskets thundered, muzzles flashing in the early morning light.
Bats dropped from the swarm, spiralling to the ground, dead, or fatally wounded.
The gunfire acted as a cue, and the bats let loose the screeches of war. Darren winced, his health bar flashing as he took a single point of damage. Some kind of sonic attack.
The front line of musketeers ducked back, and the rear line took their place. Blood trickled from ears, but the crew were well trained and seemed to ignore the damage from the bat attack.
“Fire!”
Another thundering round of gunfire. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air, burning Darren’s nose.
More bats fell as the rear line of musketeers hurriedly reloaded.
Darren finally managed to get a Inspect off on one of the bats.
<<<<>>>>
Vampire Bat
Not your run-of-the-mill vampire bat. This creature is actually undead. You'd better hope you have a healing skill, a bite from this sucker gives you an unhealthy dose of necrosis.
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Level: 4
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HP: 12
<<<<>>>>
Only 12 health, but there must have been a hundred of them… He did some quick math. At a base 2 damage per piece of buckshot from his swivel gun, six seconds of charge would net him 15 (x14) damage. So he had the potential of taking out 14 bats with a single shot if the spread was wide enough.
30 metres.
It’d take nearly six seconds for the swarm to reach them, so he had time for another charged shot if he fired now, even if the shot wasn’t ineffective at 30 metres.
So he did. He jumped from behind cover, grabbed the swivel gun, aimed at the black heart of the swarm, and fired.
The gun bucked on its tripod, barking out a sharp report.
A half dozen bats plummeted to the beach, their bodies ripped to bloody ribbons from the buckshot. The damage to the swarm a drop in the ocean compared to the swarm as a whole.
Darren set the gun charging again and stepped back, leaving it aimed up, and drew his sword from its scabbard.
10 metres.
“Fire!” Another round of musket fire.
More bats fell.
No difference was made to the size of the cloud of blood suckers.
5 metres.
This was gonna be miserable, he knew it.
The swarm arrived, settling over the group of intrepid sailors like a blanket, blotting out the sun and drowning out every sound with their high-pitched screeches.