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into play — the epic pawns of our clanmates. The spectral hounds clung to the rikhar like dogs to a bear, and Popinjay’s ten-feet tall knights, resembling the humongous mecha robots from Japanese anime, surrounded it, raising their weapons. Their interference allowed us to regroup.

Only puddles of ectoplasm remained of the hounds, while the knights were turned into bent pieces of metal, but they had done their job: the monster hissed and writhed, having lost several limbs. Jagged cracks gaped open in its armor, ruptured by the knights’ warhammers, green acid blood bubbling out of them. The rikhar’s hit points entered the dangerous yellow zone.

Abbot: Let’s finish it off! Aim at the holes!

 

When the Watchers started hitting the revealed vulnerable spots, things started looking up. Having entered rage mode, the hardy creature almost scattered the raid, but we already knew its tricks and acted in a well-coordinated manner. The rikhar still killed a dozen players in its death throes before finally dropping on the ground.

Abbot: Phew. Our casualties?

 

Damian: Minus six. Inker, Lorindale, Nasgul, Flame, Tango.

 

Reborn: Me too. We’re at the resp point. Should we go to you?

 

Abbot: Yes, try to. Maybe you’ll get lucky.

 

Those who hadn’t been resurrected in time had to repeat the entire journey once again, starting from the entrance to Helt Akor and down the stairs to the next Layer, passing the Crossroads. It was a long road, and there were no guarantees they wouldn’t meet a freshly spawned threat on their way.

Komtur: So what are we waiting for? Let’s get to looting.

 

The rikhar, whose disgusting corpse coiled up motionless in a puddle of poisonous blood, yielded a lot of valuables — almost a dozen purple-grade ingredients. Blood, brain, internal organs, bones, chitin — all of them were useful resources for high-level crafted items. Its scales, for instance, could be turned into highly durable yet light shields. The most valuable thing, however, was the essence crystal — Rikhar’s Heart, a translucent ultramarine sphere as if made from marble, an epic item granting invulnerability to elemental magic. There was a catch, though: its wearer got a permanent debuff, five points of Dread. Therefore, this item, equipped into the offhand slot, could only be used with Estel sets, making it useless in PvP.

“A female,” Olaf said, turning away from the disemboweled beast. “Ovipositor’s empty. Let’s find a nest.”

After an hour-long search in the branching tunnels, we located the nest. It was a long vertical chute. Getting inside proved to be a challenge: several players flew up there via Levitation, dropped ropes, and gradually pulled us up.

The rikhar had settled in a dead-end rocky grotto. The smell there was awful. In the torchlight, we saw piles of corpses with traces of giant teeth. However, the Watchers scoured around the cave, carefully examining each nook and crevice. Lots of valuables could be found in the lair of such a beast.

Their guess proved true. Olaf was gently holding two bluish eggs glowing purple — epic items. They had been laid by the rikhar. That’s why the female was so fierce — she was guarding her offspring. According to my clanmates, the eggs would hatch small rikhars that could be tamed. Eventually, they would grow into epic flying mounts that could be ridden into battle. Combat stats of such birdies were one of the best in Sphere. A Storm Rikhar was able to overpower a protodragon.

Among the bones, we found lots of Ancient Components resembling gears of various size. Then Flame, who was the most enthusiastic at scooping through the rubble, pulled out the main prize.

It was a skeleton, or more precisely, a half of it above the waist. Going by its perfect teeth without incisors and the shape of its skull, it was an elf. He was dressed in a tattered scalemail, while the miraculously surviving baldric was fastened to a chest strap with a backpack and a longsword in a black sheath.

“Hmm, an Elven Scalemail...a rare find, even if in need of repair,” Abbot said, appraising it. “Oh, the bag’s nice, too. It ignores the weight. What’s inside, Flame?”

Inside, there was a Scroll of Earthquake, elixirs of Emerald Spring and Star Tears, and a small statuette of a horse made from black onyx. Given that Star Tears were given out solely by elven kings, it was clear that the dead man was far from ordinary.

“Flame, step away,” Olaf commanded. “Komtur, take a look at the sword.”

As soon as the sword was pulled from the sheath even by an inch, it flashed orange, indicating legendary quality. Komtur, who was holding it in stretched hands, let out a dry laugh.

“A Moonguard. Who would have thought...”

“Incredible! Those blades are wielded only by the heads of elven houses!” Olaf exclaimed. “It’s a sentient weapon!”

“Yes, it talks to me. It doesn’t want to recognize me as a wielder. I got an epic quest to return it to Im Enoi,” Komtur said with a nod and a wry smile. “What the hell’s going on today? A third legendary that we can’t use!”

Upon that, he linked the Moonguard to the rain chat. When I saw its properties, I licked my lips, as did most Watchers.

Moonguard.

 

Of all the magic swords forged by the ancient elven blacksmiths, the Moonguards are the most highly priced. Each House has one such blade, except for those lost with their wielders. A Moonguard is passed on in the family and serves only one master.

Quality: legendary. Material: mithril, dragonskin, ellurite.

 

Personal. Sentient item.

 

Damage: 150–300 (piercing, slashing)

 

+13 Strength, +7 Charisma

 

Elemental Rune: each hit deals 50-300 random elemental damage.

 

Sentience: it is a sentient telepathic weapon possessing hearing and the knowledge of the First Speech.

 

Darksight: grants darkvision ability.

 

Deadly: ignores all physical resistances. Has a 10% chance of dealing a mortal blow

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