59. Attack IV
The last of the smoke released by the orb fades as you begin to lunge forwards, only to come up short at the familiar, scarred visage of one of your unnamed goblins. He looks rough, numerous parallel cuts across his torso marking where he must have taken a blow from the druid's transformed state.
But he's not Feathers.
And you hate how relieved that makes you.
Killworthy laughs, perhaps misunderstanding your aborted charge, and rolls his hammer around his wrist, but it's Mhæri who speaks.
“We have a hostage, Red Scale. Just to drive it home to you that we have the rest of your trapped as well. That we could have taken any of you. So listen.”
She pauses, as if she expects you to argue, and deflates a little when you don't.
“Right. Give up. That's my demand. Give us you, and everyone else goes free.” She has to raise her voice as Killworthy begins to speak again.
“Give up! We have you trapped, and caught in a Teardown quest. Give up. I promise I'll make it quick.”
She goes to keep talking, but stops dead when you open your mouth. She's almost quivering in anticipation.
“What-” you pause, coughing, and have to take several deep breaths before you can talk again. “What will that do?”
It's the halfling, the druid Dawnflower, who answers you, although you don't take your eyes off of Mhæri, who has taken possession of the captured goblin, her hands on his shoulders.
“Hard to say. They're new. The forums-” Mhæri gives a loud, fake sounding cough. “Right, yeah. Uh... The wind whispers to me that across the land monsters have begun to claim lairs, and heroes have tributed the gobs for the ability to tear these beastly monoliths down. Stronger creatures are reduced in power. Weaker ones lose more, and the weakest ones have vanished into the wildlands, never to be seen again.”
She fixes Mhæri with a put-upon stare, and the rhythm-keeper takes her cue.
“You make me a laughing stock across the world? I'll take your power and break it over my knee. Your lair will be reduced to the cave it once was. Your allies will flee your banner, and you'll be gone. Seems fair to me.”
“Yes. Utter annihilation for myself and closest friends because you fucked up.” you snort. “That sounds like something you'd think of as fair alright. Honestly?” you push on, over her indignant squawk, “I'm surprised you haven't called me a cheat yet. That's more of your modus operandi right? Insults and disproportionation violence?”
Mhæri's mouth moves as if she's chewing the air for several seconds as you rant, desperately buying time as you feel Mercy shift behind you once more. Then the once-bard smiles. It's as sudden as the ice under your feet breaking. She even laughs, a forced, brittle thing.
“Oh Red!” You shiver. Her words promise violence. “That was a very silly thing to say. Now I'm going to kill all of your friends before I kill you anyway. How very selfish!”
As soon as she finishes speaking, she pushes the goblin forwards and produces a one handed crossbow from somewhere. The goblin staggers over the edge of the arena and topples. Mhæri pulls the trigger. And a bony arm grabs the crossbow and pulls it to one side, causing the bolt to go wide. All of you watch with shock as the skeleton continues its movement to body-check the rhythm-keeper to the floor. One of the elves looks around in confusion.
“Rave-?”
But that's as far as she gets before another skeleton fades into existence next to her, and another next to her brother. They curse, in unison, attempting to fend off bony fingers. The Druid looks around in confusion – she's closest to the stairs. You seize your chance and run across the sands towards her.
She sees your approach and begins a chant, but before she can finish it you're on her and she's forced to abort her magic to twist her staff into the way of your jaws. With your evolved form you have a reasonable size advantage on the diminutive woman – doubly so when you note that the crystal spike on the top of her staff is missing, vastly lowering how much damage she can do through your scales as she thrashes her staff back and forth. You hold firm, biting down on the length of wood and slowly forcing the druid to give ground as you build up the mana to blast her with flame.
“ENOUGH!”
Killworthy's voice echoes around the chamber, and a bolt of flames crashes into your already broken wingling, making you spit the staff from your mouth.
On the far side of the cavern, on the exact opposite side of the arena, is Killworthy. And, with one of his arms wrapped around her neck, is Amanda. In one hand is a familiar looking skull.
Killworthy looks absolutely livid. His face is red, with thick tendons standing out in his neck.
“I am FUCKING TIRED of this SHITTY dungeon! You! Drake! Back in the FUCKING pit!”
Amanda shakes her head at you, as much as she can while her legs are kicking in the air and she scrabbles for breath. Killworthy flexes, and the skull drops to the floor as Amanda's second hard joins her first at scratching at the blackhammer's arm.
But what else can you do?
You keep an eye on them for your entire journey, until you stand over Mercy once more. Even Mhæri is silent, although she's glaring at Killworthy only slightly less than you are.
“This BULLSHIT is why I didn't want to do this! What even is this dungeon? Drake boss, goblins, kobolds? Make up your mind! And then a human! And a level forty five fucking magic user? WHAT THE SHIT? You should have given up when you could you fucking lizard.”
Amanda chooses that moment to kick backward, her feet ineffectually stamping at Killworthy's knees as she attempts to wrench herself from his grip.
He sighs. “I fucking told them. They said it would be fun and wouldn't change anything in the end. And this? This isn't fun.”
And then he produces a large knife with his free hand, and shoves it into Amanda's back.
Her eyes go wide, and she kicks out again. Little more than a twitch. Your legs aren't working, or mouth either as you attempt to shout, to scream.
She opens her mouth, her eyes meeting yours. And Killworthy gives the knife a twist, before yanking it back out. Only then does he relax the arm that's holding Amanda up. Without it, she falls to the ground.
She looks up and meets your eyes once more.
Her lootbag falls to the floor.
It's Killworthy who speaks first.
“Level fucking four. What kind of fucking dungeon has a level four necromancer and a level forty five fucking wizard? Fucking fuck.”
Something clamps down around your ankle in an iron grip, keeping you from moving. You look down to find Mercy's hand, her knuckles white. She's staring at you, and ever so slowly shakes her head.
You take a long breath while she gently releases your leg. You give her a small smile, somewhat surprised to see tears in her eyes.
And then you turn and charge at Killworthy with smoke and flame pouring from your mouth, the sand under your feet looking oddly slick as your pump more mana than you have ever channelled before into a single roar.
The blackhammer's cocky smile falters somewhat as you descend on him like a meteor. His hands fly through the air as he opens his menu, flicking through a dozen options in a second until-
Menu-?
Time goes numerical Off-white
Forbi-i-i-i-ddddden Options
You slam into the sand at the centre of the arena, falling to your stomach as your body refuses to listen. A wave of exhaustion slams into you like a tsunami.
“Enough. That's enough.”
It's not Killworthy this time, but Mhæri. She's out of your sight, and you're unable to move your head to look, but she sounds... tired.
A soft melody fills the air, a gentle droning of strings and voice that makes you shiver. The crooning reaches right into your brain and tells you that everything will be alright.
“Get out of here, 'Brok'.” Her voice is cold and hard, with a barely noticeable quaver. You glance over your shoulder at her. She's pale faced with grim determination.
“Oh come on! You asked for-” but he's cut off.
“I did not ask for this.”
Mhæri opens her own menu, and there's a distantly familiar pulse of white from the two of them.
“You're out the party. Get out of here.”
Killworthy stands there for a few seconds longer before coming to a decision. With a sneer at each of you, he produces a small scroll and tears it.
“Shit group anyway.”
And then he's gone.
You turn back to Mhæri, confusion writ large on your face, only to see her wiping her hand across her face. Then she sees you looking. She offers you a weak smile.
“I hate people like that. Sorry. Didn't think he'd – anyway.”
Between one moment and the next, this new, vulnerable Mhæri is wiped away and replaced with a stereotypical hero once more. Her hands on her hips, her chest thrust out, she fixes you with a watery glare.
“At least! Foul beast! You may have slain some of my companions, but we have you cornered! Now then! Will you stand down and die in dignity to save your friends? Or will we be forced to fight through your dark minions?”
Her voice gains strength as she speaks, until she is nearly shouting. In contrast to everything else however, a small smile drifts across her face.
You look down at the pile of goblins and kobolds behind you. Some of them are starting to shift. Mercy meets your eyes once more. Then you look up and see the goblin that had been captured, cowering against a wall of the arena.
“No deal.”
And a blast of demon corrupted magic slams Mhæri through the archway to the pool room. The goblin starts to run towards you.
There's a splash, a sputter, and a laugh. A genuine, happy laugh.
“Get them!”
The remaining adventurers – the halfing druid and the elven wizards – take a moment to collect themselves before they each begin their incantations. It's a moment Mercy uses well. She pulls herself to her knees, the inquisitor's binding having finally dissolved, and barks out a spell of her own while throwing her hands to each side.
A swirling dome of purple light snaps into place as soon as the sprinting goblin dives past, not a moment too soon, as a hail of ice, fire and electricity smashes into it. Mercy grunts in exertion as the shield begins to shrink, pushing in on her arms.
The goblin assists you as you begin piling the others up in front of Mercy, making the area as small as possible. As they are moved, two of the kobolds and another goblin wake and jump to help.
A crack of thunder precludes a bolt of lightning that sears spots into your vision and the shield cracks. Mercy lets out a yell as the dome is forced in by a full foot, bending her arms at the elbows as she pushes outward. A faint smell of brimstone and ash, sexual fluids and blood, permeates the air which has taken on a decidedly thick quality.
“Mercy...”
“I've got it!”
And with another grunt she manages to stand, pushing her arms straight once more and forcing the shield out with them. The air howls in rage at the magic storms outside – the sand of the arena whipping up in a druid conjured windstorm one moment and then flash vitrify the next, while ice and lightning war for dominance of the cavern. The noise seems to be rousing the rest of your minions, groaning and twitching, to wakefulness.
Another booming explosion, and Mercy drops to one knee with a crack that makes you wince. Although she doesn't show it on her face, a rictus of concentration, you're pretty sure her leg just broke from the force of the impact.
“I'm not going to be able to stand again Red.”
You snort. “Ah shit, what good are you then?”
She shoots you a glare, but a smile plays around her lips. “Wish I could do more Mi'lord,”
She grunts as a thick stone spike bursts from the floor only to shatter on the dome. After a few heavy breaths she looks at you again. “But the fact is demon magic has always sucked for protection and healing.”
You shake your head. “This,” you gesture at the dome, “is incredible. We were never going to win this. But you have given us some time.”
“Fat lot of good-” A ring of flame springs up around the shield and forces it another few inches in, “- that is. This is gonna fall any moment.”
A soft cough comes from the kobolds, from where they're gathered around Sapphire's still unresponsive body.
It's the artificer – the kleptomaniac, who coughed. He holds out one hand.
“Would... Would this help?”
In his hand is a long, green crystal.
“I was fighting the bear lady and, well. It was shiny?”
Mercy stares at it for a long second. “I think I could kiss you.”
The blushing kobold proffers it to her, and she grimaces.
“Red my hands are kinda full here, could you..?”
Another bolt of lightning forces the shield down yet again. You huddle closer to each other, almost shoulder to shoulder. The air stinks of corruption.
“What do I need to do?”
“I need access to the mana in that crystal. My hands are full. I'm a succubus. Do the maths Red!”
You stare at her for a moment more before the shield cracks, a long lagged thing, and smoke begins to seep in.
“NOW!”
At least the kobolds have the sense to look away.
Almost immediately, the crack seals. The air takes on a strange, mulch-like scent that seems to be trying to smother the smell of demon magic.
Mercy sighs and drops her hands. The dome stays up.
“Fuck me.” Breathes Mercy. “That's a spell that's been out of my reach for some time. That was a high quality element.”
Now that you appear to be safe, the light show outside is almost... well, magical. As opposing elements devour each other, the elves' spells feeding from each other.
Mercy speaks again. “But still, all I've done is given us a respite. Soon as the shield drops, we're just as dead. No way we'll get through this magic storm.”
The shield, as if to underline this, gives a groan like ancient wood and shrinks by another inch. You back up more.
“It's been fun Red. Not sure I'll respawn here. Pretty sure my repawn point is still pretty deep in Tranquil territory. But I'll see if I can't make it back here.”
Mercy's hand finds your shoulder as you all back up again. One of the kobolds, the large horned female, is on your other side. You back up again, until there's no place left to go.
And then the spells stop.
The casters seem to have picked up the slow rotation again and are not where you last saw them. Mhæri is stood by the druid, instrument in hand.
And Feathers is stood in the doorway to the pool room. She's covered in blood, and weaponless. But in one hand is the torn gi of the monk.
Everyone is silent and still.
And then the dome pops like a soap bubble leaving you in the middle of a magical wasteland. Feathers lets out a battle cry. You answer her, long and loud.
And you charge. Sapphire, barely conscious and astride an equally banged up Hyena, hot on your tail.
And there we go! The end of the attack, and the part of the story I had tentatively called Act 2: Hatchling, and the beginning of Act 3: Taking Flight
Interestingly, when designing the game Mark of the Ninja, they needed to find a way to alert the player that lightning (And thus light that could alert the guards) was coming. In the end, despite the inaccuracy, they decided to have the thunder happen before the lightning.
As always, a big thanks to my patreons: ByzFan, Dem1kles and NA
And finally, here's an updated, post battle map!