Chapter 513: Razor mountain
In a last minute change of plans, Mason decided to do a quick check on the animals in his menagerie before the teleport and dungeon ahead. He found the elven beastmaster, Kitya, relaxing just inside on something like a sun tan bed.
Her dark skinned body was just uncovered enough to be distracting, and Mason forced himself to look away. She hopped up as he walked through.
“Baron!” She came running with a grin, her clothes even skimpier than he’d thought on first glance. She noticed the travel of his eyes but made no move to do anything about it. “I’ve seen the…new addition.” She grinned. “An incredibly powerful creature. Where did you find such a thing?”
“Somewhere it shouldn’t have been,” Mason said, trying to smile. A half dozen playing wolves ran by snarling and tackling each other. When they noticed Mason they yipped and bolted the other way in a panic.
“You’ll need to spend more time with them,” Kitya said. “Right now most of them just think of you as very big and very scary.”
“No, that’s not quite it.” Mason grinned more genuinely, feeling everything around him with One with Nature. It was sometimes overwhelming if he didn’t focus or block it out—a never-ending stream of information and emotion, needs and wants and fears.
He closed his eyes and reached out to them, and slowly the wolves came padding back. He knelt and they sniffed and circled him, tails wagging and tongues coming out. Mason laughed and grabbed or pet a few.
“How did you do that?” Kitya came closer with wide eyes.
“I told them I’m just a big, mean brother,” he said. “They know we’re family. A pack. They sensed it but didn’t trust themselves yet. It helps that I smell like Streak.”
Kitya shook her head in wonder. “I can speak with them. Simple words and phrases. I understand much of their behaviour from experience. But what you’re describing…”
“Druid magic.” Mason winked. He sensed a sleepy Violet somewhere beneath him, too. “Have you tried talking to the purple devourer worm? She’s still a bit of a mystery to me. But she’s smart. Like talks in complete sentences smart.”
Kitya took a breath. “That makes a lot of sense. I could swear she plays little tricks on me. Moving things around. Watching me get confused—like it’s some kind of practical joke.”
Mason snorted, and the beastmaster shrugged.
“I’ll keep trying. She seems sad somehow. Lonely, maybe. It might take your…expertise. I think she understands me, but I don’t understand her.”
Mason nodded, wishing he had twice as much time. “Well. For now I’d better visit the bear.” He could sense it already, so he walked a bit deeper into the menagerie, finding it curled up under a tree. He gave it a mental nudge to wake it up. It yawned, exposing those giant teeth.
He’d forgotten how big the son of a bitch was. The mix of brown and white fur gave him an appearance like dirty snow…with giant claws. It rose and stretched before rearing up on two legs to full height. Kitya fell back a few steps beside him in animal panic.
“Morning, Breaker,” he said, standing his ground. “You’re happy here? At least well fed?”
Hmmm. The bear dropped to its forepaws with an audible thud and stared. It sniffed, like it was deciding if Mason was challenging him. Remember now. Sharp, little druid. Human who wouldn’t break. I was dreaming about sleeping. It was a good dream.
Mason grinned, and out of curiosity more than anything, tried activating his Brother of the Fang. He watched the creature shiver as the magic touched it. Its eyes gained a dull green glow, its huge claws shimmering with Mason’s power. What would a beast this big and strong be like with even a lesser version of his passives and items? He definitely wanted to find out.
“I was thinking I’d bring you on a little adventure. We’ll get a chance to fight something that isn’t each other.”
So many words. Breaker yawned. If the druid fights, I will fight. Hmm. And then I will sleep again.
That sounded encouraging, at least. Mason turned and thanked Kitya for her work with the animals. She looked like she wanted to say something but hadn’t built up the courage.
He moved out quick and before she got the chance, afraid it was about a looming marriage. He found her attractive and pleasant, and she was another sexual risk he definitely didn’t need.
His errands finished, he finally went back up to the Nexus and his hall, gathering his own pack from Haley. He said goodbye to the civilian girls, with only the briefest hug or a few words to each. Then he was out the door to find most of his players already waiting.
In less than the hour he gave, Mason stood beside two full ‘groups’ of his players outside the Nexus teleporter.
“I tried talking to Seul-ki,” Carl said. “She, uh, politely declined. I believe her exact words were ‘I’m not comfortable without Blake. I’ll be here in case of trouble.’ I dunno what the hell a support class on her own is gonna do if there is trouble. But, you know, I pretended like it made sense.”
Mason shrugged, whacking Carl on the shoulder to thank him for trying. He wasn’t all that worried. Seul-ki wasn’t ‘alone’. She had the wolves, the elves, the natural defences of the Nexus, and whatever the civilians could come up with. Anyway, Mason wasn’t worried.
His mind was on the players. But they had a pretty balanced team .With Rosa’s potions they could probably handle minor injuries without relying purely on Alex, and while they were waiting Demi informed him she could actually do some healing, too.
“It’s not pretty,” she’d whispered, still looking very uncomfortable around all the people. “But…it works.”
Mason decided not to ask how it worked. But he imagined some kind of…fungal spores growing out of wounds. If a person was bleeding out, he didn’t imagine they’d complain how she saved them.
When everyone had stopped fidgeting or wandering around or asking the nearby civilians for things, Mason cleared his throat.
“OK, folks, we ready?” He took one last look around at his people, deciding the answer was yes. Most were armored up and carrying backpacks, a few holding non-innate weapons made by the crafters. Even Becky had a hammer, which she was currently flipping like a drummer with her sticks.
“So ready.” Seamus cracked his neck and hopped like he was about to tackle someone.
“Calm down, mate.” John the Scot rolled his eyes. “You’ll be in the fuckin’ back while we do the real work anyway.”
Mostly everyone just grinned or looked off in silence, lost in their own private rituals before danger and combat. Mason took them all inside the beacon and closed the door. Then he looked at Haley outside the teleporter ‘box’ and gave her a nod.
“OK,” he said. “Here we go. Don’t worry, there’s nothing to it.”
Haley flipped the switch, and the teleporter hummed with power. Blue light flared so bright it overwhelmed everything, and Mason’s sensitive eyes made him squint. When he blinked and opened them again, they were standing in the smaller circle of the mountain beacon, staring at a slack-jawed goblin.
“Hi.”
Mason stepped out from the portal, seeing a big, horned demon guard waiting across the room. They locked eyes, and Mason raised his bow and put a Power Shot through its face, splattering red ichor on the far wall.
“OK,” he said, gesturing at the door. “This is it. We touch the doors, and we vanish inside. Oh don’t worry about the goblins there.”
The creatures were huddled in a corner, most of the players looking between Mason and the dead demon. A few scoffed or laughed or shook their heads.
“No questions, chiefy.” Seamus grinned and spun his staff. “Wait. Are these fookers immune to fire, like? Shit I should have asked before.”
“No idea. But hell looked hot.” Mason gestured the others forward, and put his head to the door with a grin. “Hold hands, kids. And…” he caught himself, but felt like it might boost morale a little and grinned. “Be ready for anything.”
The players all linked hands in a chain, and Mason popped open the prompt.
[Razor Mountain: Infernal Infestation raid. Maximum twelve players. Non-mortal. Non-repeatable. Do you wish to enter?]
The world faded and grew again, as if it was everything that changed around them rather than them going anywhere. Though this time not much looked different. The portal room came back just the same, except with the beacon deactivated.
Apparently there’d be no early departures. But it did say ‘non-mortal’. Mason assumed there was some other way out.
The double doors popped open, a thick red mist pouring out with a wave of heat and metallic stink.
“If they are immune to fire,” he said, glancing at the Irishman, “are you gonna be totally useless?”
Seamus glared and stroked his staff. “My baby can strip it now. Or change me fire to uh, not fire. I dunno, really, I don’t ask her questions. Can’t do it all the time, like. But no, I won’t be ‘totally useless’.” He made quotation marks in the air. “An unkind remark, by the way. Most unkind.”
Mason stepped through the doors, pleased to see everything looked the same as his oracle magic scouting trip. Except weren’t there giant, two headed dogs, or something? He was pretty sure he remembered seeing…
Iron screeched and clanged on either side of the cave. Two huge gates lifted on the rocky walls of the mountain, and four pairs of red eyes appeared behind both.
“Giant devil dogs,” Mason shouted. “My group left, Phuong’s group right.”
The players all came scrambling out, Phuong’s purple sword glowing in the dark as he stepped opposite Mason. The teams lined up, innate weapons and initial powers flaring as they readied themselves.
A thrill shot through Mason’s body, even as the beasts emerged with snarls and snapping jaws, the bastards a good ten feet at the shoulder. He flicked through his Endless Quiver and settled on Ice, wondering if the abyssal/fey properties would be useful against these, too. Not to mention the new ‘Reverberate’ enhancement.
There was only one way to find out.
He glanced at a concerned looking Demi with a hopefully comforting nod. Then matched Becky’s grin as she winked at him and stepped out front beside John. Carl vanished. Garet followed right behind the ‘tanks’.
They were ready.
Mason decided he’d summon Breaker later, maybe when the hounds were down. He felt his Strength of the Pack coming to life, infusing people around him, though he couldn’t tell exactly how. They’d do a post-analysis later, he figured, and see if they could improve things.
For now, he drew back his elven bow, and loosed an opening Crippling Strike.