So there I stood alone amid a dozen graves, in a semicircle of cutthroats shielding me with their bodies. I met their leader's stare and nodded: get lost. He lowered his eyelids briefly, then shook his head. He had his orders. After a brief moment, the Drow collapsed all at once. Now I was well and truly alone.

Bang! The earth shattered as the dome over the castle exploded in a billion fragments. We'd done it! The Vets' battle cry shattered the air as they charged the main gate. A couple dozen warriors and archers got busy blunting their weapons against iron oak, a hundred mages getting through kilotons of mana per second as they transformed it into all possible types of magic damage.

The castle put up a good fight. Boiling tar kept flowing, crossbows and glaive throwers released over the sea of flying arrows. With a thump, a trebuchet discharged from a donjon tower, propelling a two-ton rock onto the second line of our warriors. Yes, but... that was little more than an agony. Even I, too dangerously close to them on my hot spot of vitrified earth, could see that the Cats had failed to hold the perimeter.

After another half a minute, the gates groaned and collapsed, letting in a human flood that consumed the thin line of defenders and everything around them. So far, the op had been a success. Now for the second part of the show: taking over the castle.

Chapter Four

F rom the chat logs of an unknown bystander.

Current time .

Place: a lay-up about five hundred feet away from the Castle's main gates.

"They're going in, Sir. O-three hundred hours, just as we've been told.

"I detect the instance of a High Circle Spell...

"No, Sir, I'm afraid I can't establish the caster's name. The group is protected by a mist screen.

"Roger that, Sir. I'm adding all the established names to List 12.

"I'm observing the intervention of a third force. Presumably, a class A structure. An unknown spell detected. It's a buff, uncategorized.

"List 12 updated. The caster's name established. Code name assigned: Puppet.

"Roger that, Sir. Priority target list updated. Puppet added at #2.

"Roger, Sir. Commencing countdown now. 30 minutes to time D. The group is ready, Sir. We won't let you down."

* * *

I downed the mana and life elixirs and sat on the still-hot ground amid the makeshift graveyard. The interface blinked, receiving Lt. Brown's message.

Stay put and take it easy. The reserve clerics are moving up toward you. They'll resuscitate everyone.

I shrugged and typed OK. Why wouldn't I take it easy? There I was watching the slaughter on the castle walls from the front row as an occasional guard's body dropped into the moat. In a way, it was spectacular, very much like a New Year's firework display: deafening flashes and bolts of lightning mixed with the rattle of steel and some heavy-duty cussing. That was a favorite male pastime: to batter the bad guy black and blue and get away with it. Actually, I'd already noticed that about one-third of the Vets were girls. Not in the combat groups, of course, but they had their fair share of fierce valkyries.

I made a mental note about the perma players' gender ratio. This was a potential time bomb. Of course there were always lots of female NPCs—the Drow Princess alone was worth her weight in gold. Still, it was hardly a substitute. The NPCs were just that, NPCs. They hadn't had childhood Disneyland trips, they hadn't read the same books and were clueless about music. Learning to become kindred souls with a human being could prove a daunting task for them.

A couple of healers arrived. Three mid-level warriors came slithering over the vitrified stones behind them, meant to provide cover in case of any eventualities. The senior cleric stopped, estimating the potential work load, then began sending messages over his hospital chat, apparently calling for reinforcements. Fourteen resurrections and all the rebuffs—definitely too much work for the two of them. And now speed was our main advantage. I turned back to the castle. The skirmishing on the walls was dying down, dominated by the cutthroats' dull black armor. The north tower glaive thrower was lazily burning. Opposite, smoke bellowed from the south tower gunslots, apparently induced by some Godawful feat of magic. The front line troops had already passed through the gates, followed by a short HQ column. Judging by the serried rank of Drow warriors amid them, the Princess had to be there, too.

A solemn fanfare resounded behind my back as the Pearly Gates opened. The resurrection spell was a sight and a half. The idyll was ruined by Lt. Brown who swore wholeheartedly as he studied the surrounding desolation and the newly-sprouted graveyard. It was impressive, I had to admit: pockmarked with gravestones, the surrounding field was dug up as if by an artillery barrage.

The arriving cleric reinforcements worked double time. In less than three minutes, all the dead had been resuscitated. The enchanters headed back home while both Wizard groups stayed put, waiting impatiently for a rebuff, having a quick smoke and talking in quiet voices. They discussed the High Spell and cursed the ever-watchful NPCs on the walls with their paranoid Forest Cat masters. Apart from the regular guards on the walls, the Cats had also posted strengthened ballista sections which, together with some extra wizards, must have cost them a fortune.

"I can't guarantee much," the chief quack said. "My buffs are all level 160 but these are personal ones and not raid buffs."

A new battery of elixirs shot their corks in the air as the wizards hurried to refuel. I had a funny feeling that very soon cinnamon flavor would be on its way out, what with the dozens of elixirs one was obliged to down on a raid. Try taking a spoonful of cinnamon sugar every five minutes or so and see how you feel.

Lieutenant Brown, iridescent from the spells he'd cast, shouted over the cacophony of sound effects, "Max! The backup's already beat it. We too need to shift our asses to reinforce the front line. You shouldn't stay here on your own. You'd better shoot off to the HQ to make sure you get maximum protection. Besides, there you'll be in the thick of things. Come on, off you go. I'll keep an eye on you while I still can."

I nodded, obeying his logic and the commandeering note in his voice, and hurried to catch up with the HQ entering the main gate. Five cutthroats at the rear had recognized me and stepped aside, letting me into the perimeter toward the Princess and some Drow mage with a poker face. From a group of backs further on, I recognized Dan, the General and another couple dozen officers and HQ security guys.

Then I saw a few shafts of dark light rising around the Princess. Two at first, followed by two more and then another one. The next moment, the five respawned warriors lowered their heads bowing to her. Obeying her subtle gesture, the five bodyguards surrounded me again. I glanced at the clock. Apparently, the cutthroats' respawn time was ten minutes, their bind points set up in direct proximity with the Princess. I'd heard about this ability of the Drow house rulers before. I made a mental note to keep that in mind, just in case. You never know when something like that might be needed, especially if your life span approaches eternity.

I nodded my gratitude to the Princess, simultaneously typing away a brief message to Taali who had to be at her wits' end by now. Something along the lines of, Doing well, the dome's down, everything going as planned. By then the HQ column had already stopped in the center of the castle square, not far from the portal platform encircled by the thick ranks of the first special service company. They had every reason to be there, especially considering the couple dozen figures stacked up by the castle wall bound hand and foot. In the inner yard, the reserves fussed about resuscitating the dead and distributing the second round of supplies. Judging by their cheerful voices, they were already checking out one of the enemy's warehouses.