Then, we began to attack players. Sometimes we would use the entire group, other times we used smaller groups that were spontaneously selected and expected to quickly carry out their orders.
Although it wasn't easy, the zombies began to enjoy it. They could see how marching was important for them to move at the same pace when forming new units and to achieve better coordination. They also understood why an all melee group would be ineffective against certain compositions of enemies. They learned the hard way that even sneak attacks could go to hell if not executed properly.
That specific lesson was learned when we were passing through a big group of twenty players, all of them vampires wearing at least leather armor. Daggers ordered us to walk casually, but be prepared for an ambush. That was on the second day of travel and our second to last day before entering what my map called 'Purple Wilds.'
The passage we were traversing was a tight corridor and they walked inside our formation. When half the enemy was half way enveloped by our forces, Daggers ordered the attack without giving any specific orders.
It was an ugly mess.
Some of the enemies were already close to the crossbowmen and when we attacked, they hit these zombies first. The front row, intended to be our defensive bulwark fractured, half of the zombies fighting the enemies outside our formation, and the other half trying to attack the people inside.
When the first zombie ignored everything he had learned and bit an enemy, a lot of the others followed suit. In the narrow corridor, it only made it more difficult for the rest of us to attack, especially for our ranged attackers.
Although they were being attacked by a numerically superior enemy, the twenty players did their best to form a defensive perimeter. Their shield wall properly defended against the chaotic zombies and if it hadn't been for my healing, a few zombies would have died.
After five minutes of disorganized brawling, Daggers managed to get them all to disengage, and then reassembled the formations for an attack.
The enemy was wiped out without difficulties after that, mainly by our ranged attackers. Only a few melee attackers were used to surround the enemy and defend the ranged guys.
That fight humbled the zombies to no end and was the final eye-opener for them. One of the zombies had lost an arm in the fight and someone called us the Armless Battalion.
To my dismay, Daggers claimed the group creating a self-identity was great for morale.
And so, the Armless Battalion entered the Purple Wilds.
* * *
The very earth of the corridor started turning purple as we entered the cavernous chamber. Everything in it was purple, from the soil to the stone, the walls and the plants. According to the internet, there were some minerals present here that affected both the terrain and the living beings in the region.
It was a stone jungle. Stalagmites of all sizes rose randomly from the ground and made the place hard to navigate. The flora consisted mostly of a sparse grass and some mold, with some brush dotted here and there. All of it was purple.
Stalactites also hung from the distant ceiling and the eyes of countless purple bats half my size shone as they rested up there. Small rodents like rats and squirrels, all in shades of purple, were everywhere and the place had a lively, almost whimsical feeling to it, as if I could expect happy purple lions to come my way at any time.
Moisture was also a common factor, much more perceptible after the dryness in the air since I had revived. Drops of water were hitting the stalagmites and a huge waterfall was visible in a wall that must've been ten kilometers away from us. The water gushed from a huge opening in the wall, but we couldn't see the bottom because of the stone jungle around us. At least the water was more blue than purple.
<It's beautiful!> Ted exclaimed happily.
<It makes my head hurt,> Bear injected his sour opinion of the monochromatic tone of the place.
<A perfect place to train guerrilla tactics,> Daggers pronounced.
<I like it,> Melkier said simply.
I agreed with Melkier. It wasn't as beautiful to me as Ted had said, but it also wasn't as bad as Bear claimed. It wasn't good enough for me to move there, but it would take a few days of taking in the view before I got sick of all the purple.
<Where to, sir?> Daggers asked.
Looking at my map, I pointed at the waterfall. <It's a little further away than the waterfall but let's check there first.>
"Armless Battalion!" Daggers shouted and we all kinda unconsciously stood taller. "You stink! To the waterfall! March!"
Their mood brightened with the interesting destination in sight, however a major obstruction presented itself: the stalagmites badly hindered our movement. Daggers wasn't one to back down from a challenge though, to the dismay of the men. More yelling and disparaging remarks followed, as she taught them how to march in the new terrain.
Eventually, they more or less understood it. We found no players or hostile animals the entire way, and the lack of further conflict was a welcome reprieve for us all.
As we approached the waterfall, we saw a huge lake of vibrant blue water which was a pleasant break from the monotone color of the Purple Wilds.
The cascade was monstrous, you could have easily hidden multiple mansions beneath it The height the water fell from was also incredible, and the mist it created obscured a vast portion of the lake.
In spite of this, the lake was large enough that only small ripples reached the shores.
<Wow!> Ted exclaimed and for once I agreed with her. It was an impressive view.
The only thing which marred the beauty of the place were the two tribal encampments on the shores. They were on opposite sides of the lake, but had the same fence-like metal barricades surrounding them. There were openings on the lakeward sides of each, allowing access to shoddy looking metal docks with a few boats each. The inside of the encampments were completely different though.
One of them had big clay huts with roofs made of vegetation, while the other had makeshift rusty metal shacks. The clay-hut tribe appeared more spacious and better organized, while the metal-shack tribe looked like its denizens built whenever they liked without concern for how it affected the flow of the town.
The final difference was the inhabitants of each. Metal-shack tribe had purple goblins while clay-hut tribe had purple... Mud people?
They reminded me of some old anime monsters, a mix of mud and toxic waste with gaping mouth and eye holes. They moved incredibly slowly and I wondered if they could even talk.
Both tribes had sentries watching us, but none made a move. We didn't, either.
"Alright, you bunch of noobs, you can relax for now," Daggers yelled and a loud cheer echoed in the huge cave.
<Sir, I have two recommendations for the Battalion,> she told me, as I looked for a good place to sit.
<What are they?> I asked.
<We need scouts, sir. I've observed the group and I have two candidates that I think fit the job.>
<Huh?> She had actually paid attention? I could swear she was just randomly swearing at the guys. Yes, memorizing names was a cool trick, but it didn't mean her constant belittling admonitions to the men to 'march properly' weren't random.
<The first is Your Sista Is Mine, sir,> she began.
<Stop right there.> I sighed. <We need to assign them callsigns, I can't keep listening to this! I mean, one of them is called Your Mother And I On The Floor.>
Bear and Melkier laughed at that but Ted supported my decision. <It's offensive,> she said while nodding.
Daggers didn't show any opinion, she just asked: <What do you recommend, sir?>
<Use numbers?> I said the first thing that came to my mind. <Like, Zombie One, Zombie Two?>
Daggers thought for
a second. <Numbers are good. They are easy to memorize. May I suggest we also differentiate their rankings and primary roles?>
<What do you mean?> I asked.
<For instance, Private Scout One and Private Tank Two. That would solidify the hierarchy in the rankings and make it easier for us to remember their assigned roles.>
I nodded. <I like it; it'll also make organizing them easier. Make sure there are no two people with the same number though, as it might create a mess. The number should be a unique ID, while the rank and roles are their simpler categorization.>
If Private Tank Two were ever to be confused with Private Scout Two I could see things would break down quickly, better to simply eliminate that possibility now.
<Yes, sir. What about us five, sir? Should we also assign ourselves numbers?>
<No.> I said firmly. Numbers were not as stupid as the zombies' names, but I wasn't going to debase myself by allowing someone to call me by one.. <Actually, that gives me an idea. Call the Lieutenants by something else, like colors, or body parts, or animals. That way the Privates and Sergeants will understand that they'll earn a better name than a number if they distinguish themselves. And from Captain onwards, they can once again use their own names.> Melkier was the only captain for now and his name wasn't dumb, so it worked out just right.
<I like animals,> Melkier said. <Lieutenant Fighter Lion. The guys will like it.>
<Yeah,> Bear said. <But keep the colors too. Let the Sergeants be known by colors and only privates by numbers.>
<'My name is Private Tank One. I'm under the command of Sergeant Tank Blue of Lieutenant Fighter Lion's unit.'> Ted said in a mock voice. <That sounds childish and dumb.>
<Are you kidding me?> Bear said excitedly. <That sounds awesome!>
<Yeah!> Melkier agreed.
Ted rolled her eyes. <Boys.>
Daggers saw nothing wrong with the suggestion, so we discussed some fierce animal names and some promotions to Sergeant for a while before the conversation got back on the reason the conversation had started.
<Private Crossbowman Thirteen would be a fine scout, sir.>
<Whatever you say,> I said. <You said you had two suggestions though.>
She looked at the specter. <I recommend Ted as a second scout, sir.>
<Ted?> The three of us asked in unison.
<Me?> Ted asked, surprised.
<Yes, sir.>
<Why the hell would you say Ted is a good scout?> I asked. She was level nine!
<I did not say she is a good scout sir, only that she would become a good one with training,> Daggers clarified. <Yes, she is weak, but that can be an incentive to stay out of trouble. We do not want scouts to be too daring, just brave enough to find danger and report back. She is a ghost and her translucency will help. Her being virtually useless in close combat gives her extra incentive to keep her senses keen, for her own safety. She is also trustworthy which will make her reports more valuable. She might not amount to much right now, but with the right training she could be even better than me.>
That was a lousy claim. Better than the Blackguard who could turn invisible at will and for all I knew was a commando in real life?
<Not amount to much?> Ted's high-pitched, enraged voice seemed to pierce my mental ears. <You bitch!>
Daggers didn't even look Ted's way. <Sir, permission to kill the random newbie who called me an animal in heat?>
I smiled at that. <Now, Daggers, it would be a waste of time, since we would have to wait for her to walk all the way back from the Catacombs. Log out and relax a little, I'll talk with Ted.>
"Waste of time?" Ted was downright pissed now and even stopped using the mind chat. "How dare you? You- You- You male bitch!"
After a second of startled silence, all the zombies laughed and Ted's cheeks reddened. I raised my arms in surrender while Daggers simply logged out.
<Ted, let's not start calling names. Allow me to explain what Daggers said->
"I know what she said!" She interrupted me. "Are you calling me stupid, too? Unable to understand things by myself?"
<No, I'm not. I'm saying that I also hated Daggers when I met her. She told me I was useless and->
"But you are useless. I am not." She crossed her arms, still pissed, but at least listening to my words.
<Yes, but I was even more useless when I met her. You must understand->
"I must do nothing. I'll do whatever the hell I want to do!"
I held back a sigh. If Daggers hadn't just claimed that Ted could become an even better scout than Daggers herself, I would just tell Ted to shut the hell up and be done with it.
Also, I owed her.
<You're right,> I said. <Sorry. What I need you to understand is that Daggers is like a killing machine. She doesn't know how to speak nicely, only how to kill. I won't say she didn't mean to call you useless...> Ted sniffed. <...but you saw how high her standards are when she drilled the zombies. And in the end, she said you can be even better than her. A woman with her standards, can you even guess how demanding she must be of herself?>
"I don't care. She offended me." Her voice was mollified though.
<You're right, and I'll ask that she apologize. But let's face it: you're level nine. Daggers can make you a major part of the Armless Battalion, so important in fact that you'll be one of the only two people who can do your job. And with the right training, you'll become the best.>
She didn't reply and I chose to target her ego.
<No one, no matter how strong in close combat or in magic, will be able to do what you'll do. Not even Daggers herself, who just said you're nothing much. Think about it, the ability to gloat that you're the best scout among all of us, even when you travel to Valia much less than all of us and are much lower level.>
She raised a hand to tell me to shut up, closed her eyes, and began to move as if tapping her foot on the ground, which was a little odd as she still didn't have feet.
<Ted?> I said after a long time.
<She's thinking about it, ugly-face,> Bear explained. <Give her time. For now...> He suddenly raised his voice and yelled to everybody. "Daggers is gone! Skinny dipping!" Pieces of his armor began to hit to the ground as all the zombies, Melkier included, let out a roar and did the same.
Sighing, I put Bear's armor in my ring and wished the orca would come back to eat them all.
15. Revenge
I watched them swim for hours before I heard Ted's voice.
"Fine." Was all she said.
"Great! Thanks, Ted." I called Daggers next and asked her to apologize and try to play nice with Ted. After a strained 'Yes, sir,' she hung up and logged back in.
"What is the meaning of this?" She said as soon as she saw all the equipment on the ground and the zombies skinny-dipping.
I invited her to the party. <Let them have their fun. It was Bear's idea and I trust him to know what they need.>
In the past four days, while Daggers had drilled the men, Bear had focused on raising morale — or at least not letting it drop to dangerous levels.
<If you say so, sir.> She turned to the specter. <Ted, I apologize. Now, come with me.>
Ted glared at me through slitted eyes, clearly annoyed. I raised an eyebrow and shrugged. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and followed Daggers back into the stalagmite forest.
Without anything to do and no one I had to pretend to care about, it was training time for me. Despite having trained — although some might call it 'being massacred' — my close combat abilities and some of my magic with Daggers, I was still lacking in bow proficiency.
On my back, I now carried my strung bow, and shield. On the left side of my waist was my sword, on the right my quiver. I took the bow and walked a little until I saw a fat violet rat eating a mushroom.
Valia made shooting bows easy, despite what I had said to Melkier about the zombies being unable to do it. However, doing it well still required putting some effort into it.
I could shoot people well enough, but targeting specific b
ody parts was still beyond my abilities. That was a major weakness in battles.
Unfortunately, I didn't have any game skills related to projectiles, so I was unable to change the arrows' paths at will, like I did with my spells. This made proper aim even more critical.
Taking an arrow from the quiver, I nocked it, drew back, aimed at the rat, and shot.
The arrow's flight was true, assuming I was aiming at the stalagmite behind the rat. The damn pest didn't even flinch when the projectile passed harmlessly by it.
After an hour of practice I could hit my target nine times out of ten. It was clear that the game was assisting me, otherwise things would had taken much more time.
Just as I recovered my last arrow, I noticed a purple goblin standing close to a nearby rock. He was barely moving and since even his clothes were amethyst-colored, it was rather effective camouflage.
Worried, I looked around but found no other goblin hiding in the area. Still, I prepared myself for battle and called Daggers to scout the area around me just in case.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
As if he had just been waiting for me to speak, he smiled so wide I was worried he might split his own face. "Me hopes so, great master! Me comes with lucrative asking!"
His voice was thin, absolutely annoying, and seemed to pierce my soul. I frowned at his words; no one in the Underworld wanted to help others profit. Whatever this goblin wanted, there's no way it would be beneficial for me.
Still, asking about it shouldn't hurt. I hoped.
"What is it?"
"Them dirty, filthy, messy, soiled, mucky mud people keeps stealing goblin people food!" He said angrily. "Kill them!" The anger slid from his face and he smiled again. "Me give great reward!"
He wanted me to exterminate the other village, huh? It made sense that they had to compete for food and wouldn't like it.
"What is this reward?"
"Many gold! This much!" He made a 'three' with his fingers.
"Three gold coins?" I asked dubiously. I wasn't well-versed on the going rate for genocide, but that seemed way too little.