Chapter 93

Glenn Hotel, Atlanta - 10:29 AM

The Glenn Hotel was an old building that looked like someone had tried to destroy it from the bottom up. All across the facade at street level were broken windows and destruction from collisions with Goblin engineering. Some of the unwieldy vehicles had even gotten inside, tearing up the once regal lobby, though they had long since been removed. Behind the hotel was the Sapphire Deck parking garage that many people used to hide while waiting for the Goblins to pass.

More than a few people had entered through the Glenn Hotel, ran up the stairs, and jumped across the gap between the two to safety. Pursuing Goblins, crazy as they were, hated heights and barely ever followed after their prey. This knowledge had been passed around, and jumping from one to the other when fleeing from the east became known as the Sapphire-Glenn Leap to those adventurous enough to head deeper into the city.

I was in no hurry as I walked through the ruined lobby, but I didn’t linger. Anything that was left here was junk. Like the other buildings so close to the safe zone, anything worth taking and several things that weren’t were already picked clean. Furniture, food, plates and silverware, and even large swathes of carpet ripped from floor were free game.

The stairs were in the center of the hotel and easily accessible even with all of the damage. I started climbing. The further I ascended, the less damage there was though the amount of looting remained constant. If there had been hidden items tucked away in the Glenn Hotel, I had no doubt they would have already been found thanks to the looter’s thoroughness.

“You can’t be up here,” a man’s voice said as I started ascending my final staircase.

“The only one who tells me where I can be is me,” I responded with a jovial laugh.

I arrived at the top floor to see a muscular man dressed in fur-lined armor standing in front of a metal door. He looked surprised for a moment as he saw my mask, and his hand dipped to a sword sheathed at his belt, but he didn’t draw it.

“No, there’s a boss on the other side of this door,” he explained. “I’m waiting for my team so we can fight it. We have dibs.”

“Oh, there’s a boss alright,” I said, chuckling darkly. I continued approaching despite the man’s demeanor shifting into something more defensive. “That’s exactly why I’m here.”

Sensing the danger, the bouncer pulled out his sword. It was a long blade, nearly the length of his arm, and it trembled as he held it. “Not any closer, man.”

“Lars, come now,” I said, though I did stop. “From an honest construction worker to Jacob Branson’s lap dog, is it? What would your wife Arabelle think? Or Tyler? Would he understand?”

Lars’ sword began shaking even more as I brought up some bad history. I watched as he schooled his expression, his weapon becoming still as he took a breath. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re not getting through this door,” he claimed, his voice not quite calm.

“Why, I’m the Warmonger, of course,” I said, putting my hand on the handle of the Writhing Belt Whip still hanging out of my hoodie. “And if you’re going to stop me, you best do it now.” Lars the bouncer took a step towards me as he raised his sword. That was as far as he got.

I activated Crash Test and lurched forward. My Dexterity was massive for the time, an even 50, which meant the skill could carry me 25 feet forward. I slammed into Lars and let the skill ride out. He grunted from the pain of the collision while I was still just fine, but he was about to be a lot worse.

Crash Test blasted us through the metal door he was protecting, knocking it off of its hinges and destroying part of its frame. I came to a sudden stop while Lars skidded against the floor, groaning in pain as his head hit a metal table.

The world went still as I looked upon the party I had just crashed and the party looked upon me. The Skylounge at the top of the Glenn Hotel had a view of the city that would normally be quite grand. As it stood now, with all the destruction, it was still a wonderful view if a little morbid. The tables and chairs that took up most of the lounge didn’t look like they belonged here and seemed very slapdash, as if the inhabitants had done what they could and still came up lacking.

My eyes focused on a middle aged man with a thick, majestic head of black hair sitting behind a desk. He wore a white long sleeved shirt with a black vest over it. Several rings adorned his fingers, many of which I knew to be magical, and bracelets settled on both of his wrists. On the desk were several papers with handwriting ranging from barely acceptable from children to incredibly neat and tidy. These were daily reports about the going ons from inside the safe zone.

Standing just behind him and to the left was a striking, pale blond woman standing at ease. Her discerning green eyes pierced me, though she showed no sign of surprise or discomfort by my sudden and violent arrival. Though the woman wore street clothes, she was absolutely covered in weapons: a pistol holstered on one thigh, throwing daggers holstered on the other, two swords on her hips, a golden shield on her back, and a spear resting against the desk in front of her.

My eyes lingered on her before moving on to my reason for being here. Howard was a man who looked to be a few years older than me with dark brown hair that was already speckled with gray. His blue eyes looked at me in fear and confusion before his head was turned away by his gentle swaying. Jacob had him tied up, gagged, and hanging upside down near the ledge for attempting to skip town only to need saving soon after. The loan shark had a stern talk with the man, upped the points needed to pay off his debts, and decided he needed a lesson.

A lesson the rest of the crew were happy to teach. I scanned the rest of the room, looking at Jacob’s thugs who were still shocked by my bombastic entrance. Most of them carried their weapons out in the open and some were even wearing their armor, but they clearly weren’t ready for any kind of combat. A single noncombatant near the back held an acoustic guitar, though she looked as confused and concerned as most everyone else. They had been drinking, playing cards, and otherwise having a good time while their boss decided what to do with them during the battle royale set to start in an hour or so.

[[Patron Quest: Save Howard the Coward!]]

This is the guy that you need?

I guess it isn’t fair of me to judge a book by his cover or by the terrible way you described him. Regardless of what I may think, saving a hostage is still a noble endeavor. Jacob Branson and his thugs look like a dangerous bunch, and Howard’s already tied up and hung upside down. Save him so that you can gamble your points away.

Be careful, Ant.

Objective: Abscond from the Glenn Hotel with Howard safely in tow.

Reward: 500 points, +20 points for every enemy that flees, surrenders, or becomes unable to fight.

I nodded approvingly as I accepted the quest. There was almost twenty people in the room, which would net me a good amount of extra points. “I’m here for him!” I exclaimed, pointing at the hanging man.

“You knocked out Lars, you son of a bitch!” a man yelled, ignoring my declaration. This one was clad in bulky blue and red clothing and had been one of the few to move when I entered, though his first order of business was determining if Lars was still breathing.

Scoffing, I set my hands in my pocket, though I didn’t let go of the Writhing Belt Whip’s handle, and took a step towards one of the nearby chairs. I hooked it with my foot, pulled and shifted it so that it was facing everyone else, then took a step onto it so I could sit on the back.

“Well, that’s what happens when someone tries to attack me, you know?” I said casually. “If I went and let anyone threaten me with no rhyme or reason then people would get the wrong idea, don’t you think?”

“I’m thinking we have to show you how bad of an idea busting in here is,” another man snarled, standing as he picked up an axe from the ground. He was one of the closest thugs to me, and I grinned beneath my mask.

In a flash I was up, the chair flying backwards as I stepped forward. The man recoiled as my whip, once mostly hidden, flicked towards him. It wrapped around his torso and Eldritch Chomp activated, biting through the colorful clothes he wore. That was my chance. I yanked the whip while the teeth were still embedded in his side and stomach and he flew towards me, screaming. I pulled my head back and slammed my mask into his face. It barely hurt thanks to my Thick Skull passive, but he crumpled to the ground.

[[Passive]]

Thick Skull

This passive decreases the damage done to your head by 20%. When attacking using your skull, damage dealt is also increased by 20%.

Pulling the whip free, I looked at everyone else. The only people who didn’t look ruffled were Jacob and his personal bodyguard. “What? Waiting for an invitation?” I asked loudly with a tilt of my head and a flourish of the whip.

It cracked, shattering the glass top of a nearby table. That was all it took. Those who had weapons nearby grabbed them while others were quick to open their inventories.

Jacob snap his fingers and the mousy woman in the back with the guitar started playing. Bards and other music based classes weren’t common, but their buffs did wonders for any group they belonged to. Increasing hit rate, damage, hit points, or any other myriad of abilities made them worth protecting. Normally, she would have been target number one to prevent the goons charging me from getting buffed, but I knew better than to attack her. Not because she was dangerous, but because I didn’t have to.

When bards began their song, they had to play well or the buffs wouldn’t work. Or, worse, the buffs would debuff instead. This made it harder for many to keep playing well with the distraction of combat all around them, but those who could concentrate on making sure the music coming from their instrument was adequate or better excelled in their class. The woman who played now was good, and she plucked at her strings with no hesitation. So I began plucking strings with her despite the distance between us.

I applied Pull to the strings gently as I lashed out with the Writhing Belt Whip. I caught the closest man in the leg even as he tried to jerk backwards only to find that the people behind them were pushing forward. He lost his footing, and I pulled the whip back to me. His feet left the ground and, in his flailing, he slashed at the woman behind him with his sword, catching her in the hip and drawing blood.

Despite the injury, she spun around the prone man and yelled as she thrust her spear forward. I stepped to the side as I retrieved my whip with the flick of my wrist. I had the range advantage and she knew it, so she tried to step into my area of influence. To her surprise, I twirled the Writhing Belt Whip around her spear and stepped forward to meet her before slamming her with my shoulder.

It wasn’t nearly as impressive as sending Lars through a solid door with Crash Test, but my Strength proved much higher than hers and she fell backwards on the guy who had sliced her. I made sure to get a few more plucks on the guitar, using Split to mess her up even more, before my eyes focused on the next pair to come at me.

In a practiced motion, the man to the left of me swung his straight sword high while the man to the left swung his axe low, looking to force me backwards. I did duck the sword, but I reached out and grabbed the axe by the handle. A jolt traveled up my arm from stopping it, causing me to have to twist to disperse the force.

Yanking, I pulled the axe free as I swept my leg towards the swordsman. He had already overextended and my kick made him fall to the ground. I planted the axe between his legs, dangerously close to his groin, as I donkey kicked the now disarmed man behind me.

Rolling forward, I glanced again at the musician. She looked incredibly confused but continued to play to the best of her abilities. Keeping my eyes on the tuning pegs that kept the strings tight, I Split my focus and Spun two of them half a degree. The guitar immediately fell out of tune, causing the woman to frantically attempt to figure out what was going wrong.

I stood up straight, activating Shield just in time to deflect a bullet coming from the other side of the room. I glanced back, but from this angle I couldn’t see the gun’s safety to flip it. Jumping onto a nearby table, I reached into my Ringmaster’s Hoodie to grab one of the bombs out of Krinkee’s Bandolier. He got two more shots off in the process. The first slammed dead center of my chest into my Shield, and the second one pierced it but was a glancing blow.

“Special delivery!” I yelled, trying to keep the pain from my voice as I tossed the fire bomb gently in the gunner’s direction. It exploded on the floor, knocking him and two more off of their feet and into nearby tables and chairs.

It wasn’t enough to take them out, but they would be disoriented for a few precious seconds. Three men swung vertically at me. I deftly jumped backwards, landing on a rickety old chair, and kicked the table upwards. Their weapons pierced through it, getting stuck, and I let my feet hit the floor. I lifted onto my Heelies and pushed the table, letting Divine Messenger carry me forward.

The men lost their weapons as the shafts and hilts were suddenly thrust towards them, and they tried to push me back. I leaned into it, Pushing in addition to using my Strength stat, and won the upper hand. They began to backpedal to avoid getting shoved by the wide table, until their friends began helping. Five of them were needed to stop me after gaining over six feet of ground, and I stopped pushing. Instead, I fell to the ground and pulled the table upright over me.

All five of the thugs stumbled forward, those closest slamming their faces into the table, and I began grabbing legs. I hooked their knees and pulled them to the ground in quick succession before the table was surrounded. Lurching to my feet with a surprising burst of speed, the table was thrown violently backwards towards the people behind me. They stumbled, and I spared a glance to pluck a few more strings from the frantic musician’s guitar.

An axe embedded itself in my stomach, causing me to draw in a pained breath but not distracting me enough that I couldn’t avoid a follow up spear strike from his friend. I Pushed the axe out of me, noting that I would be fine thanks to my high Constitution and hit point pool, and began to swing my whip above my head.

The Writhing Belt Whip whistled through the air violently. Most of the thugs backed away, rightfully wary, but one reached out to grab it. He succeeded, but winced as it connected with his hand. Even worse, Eldritch Chomp activated and took a bite out of the guy. His fingers disappeared into the whip as the man screamed, staring at the bloody stumps that now occupied the end of his hands. I punched him square in the jaw, knocking him out and sparing him the pain for now.

That display seemed to be the one that caused everyone else to pause. Branson’s thugs surrounded me, but they looked at their fallen comrade with shocked expressions. I looked around at them and shrugged. “Oh, so it’s all fun and games until someone loses a few fingers, is that it?” I asked, making it sound as though I was disappointed.

From the back, the musician finally stopped playing having provided nothing of value to the fight. While I wasn’t sure if the thugs had been hindered, I could say with certainty that they were never buffed. It would have been a much tougher fight if they had.

When my stomach wound didn’t start fixing itself up right away, I began to jiggle my Writhing Belt Whip up and down. The action caused my enemies to flinch.

“So what now?” I casually asked, ignoring the blood staining my clothes from the hole in my stomach. I activated Tyrant’s Will as an aura around me, stopping it just outside the circle of foes. They flinched in a most satisfactory manner. “Round two? Or am I going to get what I came for?”