Play of Shadows

3.09: Handle with Care

By the time the players realized something was wrong, it was too late to retreat. The beach turned into a quagmire. Their feet sunk with every step, impossible to escape.

"Halt!" Arendse shouted, herself up to her calves in the shifting sand.

Standing still was a poor strategy. However, attempts to advance toward the docks or escape the beach would only put the players at a further disadvantage as they sunk deeper into the sand. The group needed time to reassess the situation and figure out a way out.

Unfortunately, the instance was less than cooperative.

"Look! Under the dock!" Sasha shouted.

Distorted creatures broke through the soft earth. They seeped out of the sand on spindly legs and hard-shelled bodies, crawling up the water-logged legs of the dock that bore the NPC in red with single-minded aggression.

"She's triggered a horde," Michael said.

"How? She's a damn NPC!" Vernon growled. He kicked at the sand in frustration, then cursed when his foot sunk in another inch.

The monsters spawned ceaselessly. Their size and shape varied, from seaweed-like creatures with thin arms that wove through gaps in the wooden planks to snag at the NPC's limbs to fist-sized crabs with iron claws and skin-toned shells. Their mutations carried distinctly human traits that made them all the more unsettling to face.

The dock was swarmed. The players soon lost sight of the red NPC in the crush of misshapen monsters. The mass of creatures rippled every so often, expelling a few dazed or dead things, but more soon took their place. The tide seemed never-ending.

Frances dug his hand into the sand. He tore out a stone from the dirt, scraping off a layer of skin in the process. Michael, being closest to the man and noticing the action, called out a warning, "Wait!"

Frances drew his arm back and hurled the stone toward the dock in one swift, powerful motion. It hit an eel-like monster with enough force to pierce its diamond-shaped skull.

The monster collapsed. Its body, flesh-toned and unnervingly like a misshapen human limb, disintegrated into strings of blurred code.

Vernon's whoop of excitement whistled out in a hissed curse. The eel monster was dead, but its demise alerted its brethren of the players' existence. One, then two, then a dozen broke from the mob crowding the dock and scurried down the beach. The sand did not impede their movements as it did the players. The inequality in the instance's settings was glaring.

"What's the plan, Hound?" Ann called.

"No plan. Buying the mod some time," Frances said.

"How's that help us?" Vernon demanded.

"She might be part of the glitch. What she did with that avatar..." Michael trailed off meaningfully.

The players had witnessed the avatar's demise. They had seen the soul disk the NPC wielded, and realized its significance. The NPC's role in the player's fate remained a mystery, but the NPC was obviously far from simple and very, very dangerous.

Frances didn't respond. He had already turned to combing through the sand for more projectiles, a stubborn expression on his face. The other players quickly followed suit, albeit under protest and to the tune of some imaginative cursing.

On the other side of the beach, Ann was doing some cursing of her own.

The onslaught was sudden and fierce. The creatures clambered over each other and Ann, pinning Ann in place with their sheer mass. The armor proved its worth and kept Ann safe from teeth and pincers and needle-like nails. Still, its protection could only be temporary. Her gloved hands were striped with cuts and she felt bruises along her legs and torso. Attempts at any kind of combat without a weapon and in close quarters were proving frustratingly futile.