104. White Rabbit
You wait for the man to stride past you before you make your move. It gives you a moment to take his measure – pretty typical for a barbarian as far as you're aware. Leather armour with fur pads over vial areas. Big ass sword with a silly tip on his back, two long bladed axes in his hands, and enough muscles for any two other classes wrapped around a seven foot skeleton.
Bleh.
You prefer your barbarians small and green.
He strides past you, eyes fixed on the pool that is the centrepiece of the room. You coil, ready to strike.
“Agh! What the fuck is THAT?”
The scream and expletives are muffled, echoing from the walls and, unfortunately for you, the hole in the ceiling. The barbarian spins around at the noise, distracted form the shimmering waters, and his eyes widen as he spots you. His eyes flash.
You leap as he lets out a roar that puts your own to shame. You haven't battled anyone your own level in some time, and the difference is stark. He's still faster than you, stronger too. You've been splitting your stats pretty evenly. But in actual skill, you may just edge him out.
His first axe comes in tight to his body, warding your lunge away even as his other lashes out at your neck. You lower your head, taking the second blow on your horns and forcing his hand up and out of position while avoiding the first axe entirely. That would be bad enough for him if this was a duel.
It isn't, as Sapphire proves with a harsh twang that launches an arrows into his ribs.
Then you realise your mistake in closing – The barbarian lets out a scream of pain that changes after a second into a low rumble. His eyes flash red in the torchlight, and veins bulge out on his arms. A twist of the wrist and your horns are no longer fending his axe off and out of position – they're tangled, and his strength just leapt up by twenty percent. It doesn't sound like a lot, until it turns a deadlock you were content to slowly lose as your allies attacked into a sudden overwhelming force. Like a damn breaking, your opponents using his new leverage to pull you off your feet and any hope you had of ending this quickly and cleanly goes with it. His first axe leaps like a salmon for your stomach, heedless of the arrow sticking from his side, and you're forced to try and parry.
Which is a much better prospect when your only weapons are not your fingernails.
You let out a grunt of pain at the axe slams into your palm, but your scales and endurance lower the blow from crippling to merely painful. In retaliation you spit a mouthful of embers into his face. He's raging now, there's no breaking him from that without leading him somewhere empty and letting him cool off, but as much as it makes him stronger and tougher, it makes him dumber and lowers his perception.
Just as you hoped, he flinches, reflexively attempting to shield his eyes with his forearm. You attempt to twist out of the grip his axe has on your horns, but your plan has backfired – his recoiling body has drawn you in even closer. You claw at his arm, and he lets out a grunt of pain before, still blinking soot from his eyes, he heaves you away from him, axe and all. The sudden twist leaves you disoriented as the ground falls away beneath you until you strike to surface of the water with a crash that sends a spray of mist into the air.
When you resurface, Sith has taken your place occupying the berserker. Her new body twists around wild blows, but the level difference is stark – while levels are not everything, especially with planning and ambush, this fight has non of those. The small bolts of magic leaping from Keth do little to even the odds, and Sapphire is still keeping her distance, peppering the man's back with arrows.
You emerge from the water, your left hand struggling to hold your weight as blood dyes the waters with a murky cloud, rivulets cascading from your scales. Sapphire fires her last arrow and draws a wicked short sword. Sith fails a dodge, ribs crunching before her body vanishes into the air.
She'll be back.
Another mouthful of sparks draws the barbarian's attention to you as you circle closer, playing up your limp. Your opponent seems to barely think, charging at you with wild abandon, drawing his monster of a sword as he does.
That's less than ideal.
You duck the first swing, feeling the ripple of air parting around the chunk of steel, landing a thin score across his thigh in retaliation. His flesh is as tough as stone. The leg in question jerks back as the man's entire weight pivots, turning the first failed swing into a downwards slash at your injured side. You're forced to sacrifice the potential of a surprise attack to leap away from the ruinous strike, leaving a bloody handprint behind.
The man screams and stumbles as Hyena crashes into his legs and Sapphire slashes at his spine. His unnaturally tough flesh turns the worst of the blow, but it leaves him very open for your own follow up.
You rise to meet him as he falls. Toughened flesh or not, you've yet to meet someone who can match your coup de grace. As you latch your teeth into his neck for what should be the killing blow however, your target flashes, his entire form, armour and all, burning a deep red.
Something grabs you and flings you away as the air around the man seems to tonight. Hyena and Sapphire and thrown clear too as he lets out a roar that you can feel in your bones and that makes the waters of the pool dance as you impact the wall a dozen feet from where you started.
His eyes, manic and glowing, turn to you.
Nope.
You bring as much of your fire to the fore as you can, your scales steaming you dry in seconds as he advances on you with cold purpose.
You open your mouth and flash fry him. A boiling lance of fire that erased the last man you used it on from existence.
And when it's done, leaving you cold and exhausted, to see him standing there with one arm outstretched, a small trinket of copper and wires glowing in his hand, you know you've lost.
It's a strange feeling. But you can barely move. In a handful of seconds, you'll be able to walk, run, possibly fight. But the barbarian above you looks almost unharmed baring a necklace of puncture wounds.
He flicks the talisman away, muttering curses as steam explodes from the pool on contact. Then he raises his sword.
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