Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 59 - Tides of undeath - Part Two

 

The Zombified bats fell in such obscene numbers that some of them were able to survive their otherwise deadly descent toward the ground by landing on the haphazardly heaped remains of their unfortunate fellows. However, the effects of the Empowered Ward combined with their injuries left the survivors unable to relocate before those that came after crashed into them in turn.

 

The hail of unwitting undead projectiles continued for the better part of an hour and left the mountain pass carpeted in broken rotten bodies. A small number of small furry Zombies were still crawling aimlessly, or at least, they seemed to be. It was just as likely that their broken limbs made it impossible to move in the direction they intended.

 

Despite the distraction of the wet muffled crunching sounds coming from outside of the bunker, I kept a keen eye on the kill notification panel. My diligence was rewarded when Ophelia’s Summoned Projection registered a kill. However, it was not what I had expected.

 

As the unliving hail of undead projectiles thinned, Ophelia’s projection returned and deposited the corpse of my attacker at my feet.

 

He was, or had been, human.

 

Bald and of middle but otherwise indeterminate age, his body, what wasn’t covered in short dark robes, prominently featured swirling tattoos. The blood vessels in his eyes had burst and his face was locked in an expression of terror that was at odds with his fearsome facial tattoos.

 

His basic armour and robes were both detected as magical but were not anything special. A thorough search of his body uncovered nothing further besides a simple low-tier magical dagger.

 

Randle, Faine and Jayne confirmed that the dead man appeared to be of at least partial Werrian ethnicity. However, they admitted that the tattoos made it difficult to be certain.

 

“Is it possible he had some sort of item, or had a Class that would allow him to invade my mind?” I asked warily.

 

“Like a Mind Mage?” Faine suggested helpfully.

 

I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had been hoping that whatever Ability had allowed the invader access and influence over my mind had been more esoteric in nature.

 

“Are Mind Mages common?” I asked, trying my best to keep the sense of dread from my voice.

 

The three cousins shared uncertain looks with one another before nodding.

 

“Incredibly rare,” Randle stated confidently, “At least, according to the information released by the guilds...”

 

“Ah...” I now understood the cause for their earlier uncertainty in spite of Randle’s confidence in answering my question. “But if they are so rare, why does this one have such weak equipment? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to have better protective gear?”

 

Faine and Randle nodded in agreement but otherwise remained silent.

 

“Perhaps his equipment was taken by one of the Liche’s Lieutenants?” Jayne suggested, “Sending him out to control or compromise our position was probably not seen as a high-risk assignment. Or, perhaps it was, and they were using this as an opportunity to purge him from their ranks while doing damage to ours?”

 

“Mind Mages aren’t popular,” Randle agreed grimly, “There is no shortage of stories about them turning rulers into puppets and driving thriving countries into the ground...”

 

Faine nodded in agreement and began scrutinising the corpse for a second time.

 

“Assuming, of course, that he was even with the undead to begin with,” Jayne observed somewhat distractedly before pointing to the dead man’s tattoos, “Those look like the sort of bizarre markings used by cults.”

 

Faine and Randle’s expressions and demeanour hardened at the mention of a cult.

 

“It would explain the low-tier gear,” Faine agreed bitterly, “And depending on what sort of crazy this cult may be, it could explain why he attacked us during the attack by the undead.”

 

“Some sort of doomsday cult?” Randle suggested and scowled down at the dead man, “They might have a hidden base on these mountains and this guy probably figured he could sabotage us enough for the undead to do the rest of the work.”

 

“Maybe...” I agreed with a deep sigh, “We will need to be more diligent moving forward.”

 

Keenly aware that at least some of the Zombified bats were probably Plague Zombies, I motioned for my champions to stay back while I left the bunker. After surveying the extent of the biohazard, I realised I didn’t have many choices if I wanted to keep our current fortified position. If I couldn’t get rid of the Plague Zombies’ corpses, it was entirely possible that the approaching Asrusian army would become infected.

 

A short thorny bush near the bunker caught my attention. A broken Zombie bat was single-mindedly engaged in tearing itself apart as it attempted, rather unsuccessfully, to free itself from the bush’s thorny vines.

 

The sight gave me an idea.

 

Uprooting the bush with a light tug, I shook the zombie bat free and crushed it beneath my booted heel.

 

I bit the inside of my cheek and gathered my mana. Unsure if it would make much of a difference, I focused my thoughts on my absolute loathing of the undead and the destruction they had caused. Spitting my blood onto the roots of the thornbush, I cast the Empowered Plant Growth Spell.

 

As I had expected, tendrils of blood streamed out of my mouth and soaked into the root’s vines and small trunk of the thornbush. Already dark brown, almost black in colour, the bark of the thornbush remained much the same as before. However, the pale thorns took on a deep crimson hue.

 

With the Spell completed, the roots and vines of the thornbush began to move of their own accord.

 

Sensing no immediate hostile intent directed toward myself, I steeled my nerve and began traversing the carpet of broken corpses.

 

To my immense relief, the presence of the undead appeared to agitate the newly awakened thorn bush. It made attempts at swiping at any still-moving bats that we passed, albeit unsuccessfully. In its current state, the thornbush was simply too small for its vines and roots to reach the small bats scattered on the ground.

 

Surprisingly, the thornbush didn’t attempt to free itself from my grasp. Whether it was because it trusted me, recognised me as its creator, or simply saw no reason to do so, was unclear. Unlike Hana and her sister, I was not able to communicate with vegetation.

 

Upon reaching the centre of the pass, I used the Shape Stone Spell to burrow a large hole in the ground and then made a second much smaller but equally deep hole beside it. With both holes completed, I made a small tunnel roughly the same size as the second hole that connected both holes together.

 

With a number of broken bat bodies already occupying the larger hole, I carefully lowered the thornbush’s roots and trunk into the smaller hole. The thornbush didn’t seem to understand what I intended, but using the Plant Growth allowed me to fuel its growth and direct its roots down the hole.

 

Ignoring the small number of still mobile bats headed toward me, I continued my efforts until the thornbush’s roots were long enough to begin snaking out of the tunnel at the bottom of the hole.

 

Fuelled by my mana, the thornbush’s roots began penetrating and entombing the bat corpses of its own accord.

 

Reduced to a third of my total mana, I ended the Plant Growth Spell and began kicking broken bat bodies into the large hole.

 

To my surprise, the roots of the thornbush continued to grow and seek out new bodies to feed upon. It took me a couple of minutes to realise that the Zombies must have small manastones inside of them and that the thornbush was using them to fuel its continued growth.

 

Raising a crescent-shaped wall from the ground with the Shape Stone Spell, I experimented with moving it about as a means to substitute for a shovel. To my immense relief, I found that I could emulate the effects of a snow plough or bulldozer by increasing the scale of the wall. Although mana intensive, the method allowed me to fill the large pit within a very short amount of time and with little real effort.

 

Of course, I hadn’t managed to dispose of even a hundredth of the broken bat corpses, but it was a start.

 

After boring the larger hole deeper, I focused on clearing a path to the bunker and then to the cave where Dhizi and Clarice were taking refuge.

 

Clarice looked profoundly relieved to see us. “That was fucking crazy!” She swore nervously and motioned to the mouth of the cave, “I mean, what was the fucking point of all that?! I mean, if they caught us outside, maybe it would have been different-”

 

“It was the Ward,” I interjected guiltily, “Once they entered its range, they couldn’t flap their wings nearly fast enough to stay airborne. I honestly hadn’t expected something like this to happen.”

 

“Huh...” Clarice looked surprised but nodded in understanding, “I wonder if the Ward could do the same to bigger monsters?”

 

“It depends,” I replied thoughtfully, “Bats need to flap their wings a lot in order to fly, so they are particularly vulnerable. However, Ushu, Dhizi and Cooper would be fully capable of gliding out of range before a Ward becomes a real factor.”

 

“Right,” Clarice nodded again and scratched at her cheek, “I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “So...Are we just going to hunker down here for the night?” Clarice asked, “Cuz I doubt you lot will get much done with all those bodies everywhere, and I don’t want Dhizi eating any more of that rancid mess.”

 

Dhizi’s Toughness was high enough to resist the plague, but I was more worried about Clarice.

 

“We will take shelter until the sun rises,” I decided, “Cooper and Ushu should be able to remain out of reach until then.”

 

I used Shape Stone to create basic living quarters in the rear of the cave. There was nothing that could be done to suppress the stench of the rotting corpses outside, but it was somewhat less intense inside the cave.

 

I stripped down to my padded cloth armour and did my best to try and get some rest while Jayne, Faine and Randle took turns keeping watch alongside Wisp.

 

Thanks to Wisp’s magic concealing our presence from the undead, the remainder of the night passed rather uneventfully.

 

As we prepared to leave the cave, I was somewhat surprised to catch the thornbush using its thorny vines to drag dozens of the small bat corpses into the large hole. The length and thickness of its core vines had increased considerably, affording the thornbush roughly fifty feet of reach in each direction.

 

Using the same strategy as before, I used the Shape Stone Spell to clear a path to the thornbush.

 

As the mound of bodies entered its reach, the thornbush eagerly began snatching bundles of bodies at a time.

 

“Should we assist in aiding its growth, Majesty?” Jayne asked curiously, “Or perhaps gather the bodies of the undead?”

 

“No,” I warily eyed the sky and the mountains, “It would be best to keep your mana in reserve.”

 

Until I acquired more magic items that would allow them to abuse the same feedback loop for generating mana, It was safer that I do the heavy lifting on my own.

 

“Just keep a sharp eye out while I work,” I ordered and began considering how best to proceed.

 

Relocating all the bodies would be painfully inefficient if I relied upon the Shape Stone Spell, which was unfortunately the most risk-averse way of moving the bodies.

 

Then the thought occurred to me that I might have been going about things the wrong way. I didn’t need to bring the bodies to the thornbush, I just needed to provide the means for the thornbush to gather them on its own.

 

Using the Shape Stone Spell, I began digging a two-foot deep and roughly three-inch wide trench from the thornbush’s hole and up the mountainside. Kicking aside the corpses of the bats so I could see what I was working on.

 

While digging the trench, I was deeply concerned to find that many of the undead from the prior evening were now pressed up against and swarming outside of the northern wall. There were so many of them that I became worried that they might become able to scale the wall by climbing over one another.

 

Having reached my desired location, I stopped digging the trench and instead bored down into the mountainside to create two holes that would match the first pair in the path below. I swept some of the nearby corpses into the larger hole. Descending the mountain, I sealed the trench beneath an inch of stone.

 

Upon reaching the bottom of the mountain, I was pleased to find that some of the thornbush’s roots were already snaking their way through the trench.

 

After sealing the trench, I began pouring my mana into the Plant Growth Spell and willing the thornbush’s roots to continue their progress up the mountain. I couldn’t sense the plants like Gana and her sister, so I had to send Faine up the mountain so I would know when the roots arrived at their destination.

 

Once I had confirmation that the roots had arrived, I concentrated on the mental image of the roots fusing together and growing a new trunk inside of the second smaller hole. I met some initial resistance, but it quickly evaporated as I redoubled the flow of mana.

 

Having depleted my mana to a fifth of its total volume, I decided to stop and evaluate my efforts thus far.

 

“There seems to be no end to them,” Randle observed dryly while looking out over the northern plain.

 

“So much needless suffering and death...” Jayne agreed.

 

By chance, I noticed the grizzly visage of what had once been a small child now shambling toward the greater horde. I forced myself to look away and continue up the mountain.

 

As I had hoped, the roots had formed a second trunk and it was now in the process of growing new vines.

 

By the time my mana had fully regenerated, the second growth of the thornbush had begun dragging bodies into its feeding pit. Its reach was less than five feet, but I was glad that the proof of concept seemed to be working out.

 

It was more mana intensive than simply ploughing all the corpses toward the primary thornbush site. However, I was hoping that I could expand the concept to create screening walls to delay or outright intercept undead that would attempt to gain entry or outflank our position in the pass by using the mountains.

 

Once my mana had fully regenerated, I began boring a trench lengthwise across the mountainside, matching the width and depth of the small hole. It took me close to an hour to dig the first trench, but I was pleased that the thornbush wasted no time in following along behind me. Many more tertiary trunks began sprouting up and out of the trench, but their growth stalled shortly after growing a small complement of vines.

 

It took me two hours to dig the feeding trench, but the moment I began expanding the trench, the tertiary thornbush sites began undertaking explosive growth. Within minutes, the secondary trunks and their vines had doubled the size of the primary still located in the centre of the pass. Nets of thorny vines scraped the mountainside clean with gluttonous abandon, scarring and scoring the stone as they sought out every last morsel.

 

As I made my way toward the western mountain to start again, the thornbush’s roots eagerly surged through the trench as quickly as I could from it. Given time, I had little doubt that the roots would begin tunnelling through the rock that surrounded them. However, at least for the time being, the thornbush seemed content with following the path of least resistance.

 

By midday, I completed the second set of trenches. However, the undead horde gathered beyond the northern wall had reached a critical mass. Those in front were being crushed to death and forming a part of an organic ramp, allowing those behind to come closer to reaching the top of the wall.

 

In order to thin the ranks of the undead, I began using Thundering Strikes to turn stones into improvised grenades which my champions then threw over the wall.

 

With some breathing room secured, I decided to turn my attention toward further fortifying the northern wall.

 

I began remotely digging a trench twenty feet in front of the wall. Roughly ten feet wide and thirty feet deep, the fall would likely kill most lesser undead. Until, of course, the trench was sufficiently packed with bodies that would cushion their fall. However, displacing the stone for the trench provided a substantial amount of material to redirect toward building up the wall.

 

To keep the lesser undead from building up again, I saved up my mana and used Lesser Summon Servant to Summon an Orc Slinger to man the wall. The Summoned Orc had enough mana that I hoped he would be able to thin the ranks of the approaching undead for at least a couple of hours.

 

Judging the duration of Summons in advance was always tricky. Mana functionally replaced the caloric expenditure of a regular living being. So the very act of existing slowly drained their reserves. Paying for Class and certain Racial Abilities would burn through even more mana, cutting their duration shorter still.

 

My guesstimation of the Orc’s duration was based on the drain brought on by physical activity alone. My Racial Ability Synergies paired with the Orc’s high Strength and Racial Abilities would provide a significant damage boost, making Class Abilities complete overkill against Skeletons and Zombies.

 

I was just glad that enough Orcs had taken the Slinger Class so that I could make such an economical choice. I couldn’t just pick and mix Lesser versions of Summons willy-nilly. I needed individuals to serve as the reference for the template in order for it to function.

 

Cooper and Ushu landed on the western slope of the eastern mountain sometime after midday, allowing their riders to disembark and slowly make their way down to Clarice and Dhizi’s cave. Curiously, the thornbush parted its wall of thorny vines to allow an unobstructed passage down the mountain.

 

The thornbush’s behaviour came as a profound relief. While I had not detected overt hostility from the thornbush directed toward myself or my champions, I had not been certain that ambivalence would extend to others. If the worst were to occur, I was prepared to Summon Hana to calm the thornbush down. However, given her reaction to the willow tree, I wanted to avoid revealing the thornbush’s existence unless absolutely necessary.

 

Unsure whether the gesture would be interpreted in the way I intended, I conjured a fistful of high-tier manastones from Sanctuary’s treasury. I hesitated for a moment as the long-buried temptations of my manastone addiction fought for purchase in my mind. Taking a deep breath, I dropped the manastones into the central feeding pit beside the primary thornbush.

 

At first, nothing happened. As best I could figure, the thornbush was confused by the absence of organic matter. However, its inaction was quickly forgotten when it surged into sudden, almost violent action. The manastones were swarmed and then engulfed by the extensive mass of roots at the bottom of the pit, disappearing from sight before the roots dragged them deeper still.

 

The vines on the thornbush waved like tall grass in the wind before retracting and bundling themselves protectively over the feeding pit.

 

If the first action was definitely open for interpretation, the intention of the second clearly indicated a possessiveness that seemed oddly fitting for such a rugged plant.

 

Very nearly all of the corpses had been claimed and devoured by the thornbush and its subsidiaries, leaving dried patches of crusty blood behind. Ideally, I would have preferred the blood to be cleaned away as well, but it simply didn’t seem possible. I just had to hope that the plague properties of the Plague Zombies would die off over time and without a host to shield it from the sun.

 

I spent the rest of the day forming new bunkers and connected resting quarters sheltered inside of the mountains. The Asrusians were due to arrive sometime within the next couple of days and would need shelter in order to rest and regain their strength for the fighting ahead.

 

Lacking the need to accommodate my true form, I kept the design of the primary garrisons simple.

 

Each garrison featured a large central open space supported by thick pillars for stability. The sleeping quarters were shaped out of the walls of wide passageways that connected to the central garrison. Bored holes in the mountain provided ventilation and basic waste disposal.

 

I lacked Hana’s intuitive gifts, and I had no desire to reveal Qreet’s existence to any foreign powers that might be spying on our position. This meant that I was unable to tap into the local water table and provide clean filtered water.

 

Unwilling to waste any more time, I continued to expand the fortifications within the eastern mountain throughout the night. I took short rest breaks to recover my mana and delay mental fatigue.

 

The stables for the Beasts ridden by the cavalry were profoundly basic by necessity. I lacked the architectural know-how required to create anything better than what amounted to long wide corridors with hollowed-out spaces to serve as open pens for the Beasts. It was certainly better than nothing, but it left much to be desired and made me somewhat embarrassed.

 

By the time the first elements of the Asrusian army had arrived, I was very nearly finished with the basic preparations.

 

I tasked Faine with the responsibility of explaining things to the Asrusian officers and organising which forces would be deployed where.

 

I wasn’t an experienced tactician and was more than happy for someone far more competent to handle such things on my behalf. Besides, so far as the Asrusians would be aware, I was just another one of the Tyrant’s champions, and I would prefer to keep it that way.

 

After the Asrusians had taken some time to recuperate, they began preliminary steps in refurbishing the garrisons and bunkers. Most notably, they began installing doors so each of these locations could be secured as required.

 

To aid in that effort, I spent an hour creating small holes in the stone for the pins and pegs that would anchor the door hinges. Later, I created slots in the door jambs that allowed for sliding wooden bolts to securely lock doors shut. I would have seen to those tasks earlier, but standardisation was something of a pipedream when a hundred different smiths were commissioned to make the same hinge in a hundred different smithies.

 

A single team of soldiers with crossbows had taken up position in one of the forwardmost bunkers on the western mountain and had thinned the ranks of the approaching undead considerably.

 

For the most part, the advanced team had taken the presence and role of the thornbush in stride. However, they didn’t seem to believe Randle’s description of events that had required the cultivation of the plant in the first place.

 

To be fair, If I hadn’t witnessed it first-hand already, I probably would have had a hard time conceptualising hundreds of thousands of undead raining from the sky if I was in their place.

 

In order to secure more space for Ushu and Cooper, I descended the path alongside my champions and began raising a third wall. The number of undead approaching from the south had dwindled to the point that I was able to raise the wall in its entirety before the first of the zombies even came within a hundred feet of our position.

 

No doubt, the advance team had culled their way through a number of undead before making their final approach. The remaining undead that had followed behind them were now probably targeting the larger Asrusian army instead.

 

Left with nothing else to occupy my time, I continued expanding the trenches to cover the flanks of the newly claimed stretch of the pass. As the sun began to set, I began burrowing into the western mountain to create an experimental feeding chamber.

 

The number of bodies outside of the north wall was only going to grow. I hadn’t cast the Dirge of Undeath, but once I did, the number of undead drawn to our location would very likely number in the millions. At a certain point, walls simply wouldn’t cut it. The sheer volume of undead and their remains would allow entry to our fortifications.

 

That was ignoring the all-but-guaranteed presence of stronger undead that could probably scale the walls independently.

 

I hoped that the thornbush would somewhat alleviate the pressure generated by the lesser undead, freeing up the soldiers and my champions to focus on the true threats. Of course, it was all really a gamble.

 

From what I had observed thus far, the thornbush and its subsidiaries were fully capable of stripping every square inch of flesh from a corpse. However, after the roots had broken apart the bones and consumed the marrow, they left the bones be.

 

There were upper limits on how much space I could bore out of each mountain, and the more space I created, the higher the risk of collapse would become.

 

I was reinforcing the stone surfaces as much as possible by eliminating faults and increasing surface density, but I wasn’t an expert. Eventually, something would go wrong. I had experienced a number of near misses with minor cave-ins and collapses already and truly felt like I was pushing my luck by continuing.

 

However, things took a more positive turn when I accidentally tunnelled into a large cavern. Preliminary exploration revealed that the cavern connected to a cave on the southwestern face of the mountain.

 

After intense discussion and debate with my champions on how best to proceed, I decided to seal the cave entrance and use the cavern as the thornbush’s collective feeding pit and waste disposal.

 

While boring out the shaft that would allow the thornbush access to the passage to the cavern, I discovered that the roots from the feeding trench had already begun pressing their way through the rock of their own accord. Their progress was small, but it was a clear indication that they were capable of expanding on their own.

 

Given enough time, I didn’t doubt that the thornbush would eventually cover both mountains in their entirety. With manastones as an accelerant, and its ability to dictate its own growth, all the thornbush lacked was time and nutrients. The latter would be provided in abundance, but I was uncertain whether it would be able to maintain itself long-term.

 

The prospect of maintaining an external fortress of my own held a certain appeal, but I didn’t really need it. At least, not beyond this particular set of circumstances.

 

The Vampyrs attempted another raid around midnight and despite the warning provided a Kobold auxiliary, managed to ambush one of the sentries before being destroyed by Wisp. The sentry had been critically injured and returned to Sanctuary, but appeared to have otherwise survived the encounter.

 

The arrival of the next wave of Asrusian soldiers in the early morning raised morale but brought worrying news. The army had been attacked during the night by the Vampyrs as well. Unlike the sentry, four soldiers had died before their Contracts had time to activate, and thirty-seven others had been badly maimed.

 

I entrusted Randle with delivering a second Empowered Ward to the main force that was still on the march. By all reports, they were expected to arrive sometime tomorrow, but the increase in undead activity was making me nervous. I figured it would be better to play it safe and make it that much harder for the Vampyrs to execute a successful raid.

 

At the request of the soldiers manning the bunkers, I set iron staves into the firing ports. With the intention of making it that much harder for smaller or more agile undead to squeeze into the bunker, it came at the cost of impairing the lines of sight and firing angles of the soldiers within. However, given that the soldiers were no doubt used to more traditional fortifications, I could understand why they likely felt daunted by such comparatively large firing ports.

 

The Vampyrs attempted another raid during the night. However, they aborted their attack when the thornbush temporarily entangled several of their members and gave away their position. None of the Vampyrs had been killed, but we hadn't lost any soldiers either. So I was inclined to chalk it up as a win.

 

The final detachment of soldiers arrived around midday and it took the remainder of the day for the consolidated army to reorganise itself. For the most part, I kept myself and my champions out of things as much as possible. We would soon be under siege, and the soldiers needed a clean and transparent chain of command.

 

I did my best to accommodate requests for additional defences and modifications to those I had made already.

 

While the higher-ranking officers liked the bunkers in general principle, they preferred the ability to field increased volumes of ranged units where required. To that end, I spent the better part of a day cutting steps and paths across the northern face of both mountains. It was relatively easy and not very mana intensive compared to digging the trenches. However, creating the sheer number of reinforced ledges required for the requested dedicated firing positions took up most of my time.

 

As expected, the setting of the sun brought another Vampyr raid. Only this time, it was much larger and was initiated from multiple fronts.

 

Seven soldiers were injured badly enough for their Contracts to return them to Sanctuary, and a couple of dozen more required healing from the Surgeons.

 

In exchange, three Vampyrs had been killed, and four others had been badly wounded. The wounded Vampyrs would probably recover in time for the next raid. However, the soldiers’ morale was bolstered by the fact that the Empowered Ward was having a noticeable effect in dampening the Vampyrs' potent combat capabilities.

 

Vampyrs had heightened speed, Agility and Strength. Their durability was heavily dependent upon their ability to regenerate. However, a Vampyr’s ability to regenerate was finite. Healing their wounds came at the cost of the stolen blood coursing through their veins. More than that, depleting its blood supply stripped Vampyrs of the lion’s share of their superhuman capabilities.

 

Combined blood loss with the dampening effect of the Ward made Vampyrs progressively easier to fight the longer an encounter dragged on.

 

With superior numbers, and competitive synergies to somewhat balance the playing field, the Asrusian soldiers were capable of giving worse than they got in an open engagement. Were it not for the Vampyrs' ability to see in the dark and reliance on ambush tactics, the losses would be firmly in the Asrusians' favour.

 

Of course, that was only in the case of the Lesser Vampyrs. More powerful Vampyrs were still a force to be reckoned with but were comparatively few in number.

 

With the rising of the sun, I decided that our defences were as good as they were going to get, for the time being at least. Our delay had already likely cost thousands of lives. I felt no responsibility for those slain by the undead. However, it did not mean I could simply allow it to continue either.

 

Under Wisp’s supervision, I cast the Empowered Dirge of Undeath Spell upon a firmly anchored banner set behind the northern wall. Compelled by the Spell, a deep mournful moan passed over my lips, sending bloody rivulets of spittle circling into the air and around the banner.

 

A chill wind swept down from the mountains, cutting through my armour and down to my bones. It left me feeling numb and confused. Several moments passed before I realised that the deep mournful moaning echoing through the mountain pass was not my own. Even so, blood continued to trail out of my mouth and showed no signs of stopping.

 

Dark clouds began to gather in the sky and block out the sun, casting the world in muted shadow. Thunder rumbled in the distance as darker storm clouds rolled ever closer to the mountains.

 

An unnatural silence took hold in the wake of my Spell. A silence so deep and complete that I would have thought myself deaf if I wasn’t so painfully aware of the sound of my own breathing.

 

Through a force of will, I forced myself to move.

 

As if they had been waiting for permission, the soldiers stationed on the wall stiffly began to stagger about. Cursing under their breath and holding trembling hands before one another’s faces.

 

“This...may have been a mistake...” Wisp commented, his voice barely above a faint whisper.

 

“You think?” I muttered nervously, unable to muster the right energy for true sarcasm.

 

“The Spell...The call, was stronger than I expected...” Wisp admitted in a reflective tone while staring up at the darkening sky, “I felt it, the pull, the need to answer...If I was not your loyal servant, and instead an enemy, I do not believe I could have resisted it...”

 

“You’re saying, the Liche might be drawn here after all?” I pressed urgently while stifling my voice as much as possible so I wouldn’t frighten the soldiers any further.

 

“There is a strong possibility,” Wisp agreed dourly.

 

“Crypt Stalkers!” Called a soldier from up on the eastern mountain.

 

“Vampyrs!” Called out another less than a moment later.

 

“BOWMEN!! MAKE READY!!” Roared a Sergeant stationed on the wall, and the order was repeated to the east and west as other officers came to their senses.

 

The Spell had drained nearly half of my maximum mana, but I knew that I needed to help bolster the troops' morale. Gathering most of my remaining mana, I Summoned a projection of Ophelia and two Lesser Summons in her likeness.

 

Without needing to be told what to do, Ophelia and her lesser entourage rose into the sky and over the wall. “TAKE HEART AND HEED MY WORDS!” Ophelia’s voice carried effortlessly over the mountains, drowning out the approaching thunderstorm. With an expression of righteous anger, Ophelia stared down at the soldiers while pointing her naked blade out toward the northeast, “THE VILE AND UNHOLY WILL NOT PREVAIL AGAINST YOU! SO LONG AS YOU HAVE THE WILL TO STAND AND FIGHT! MY WRATH SHALL BE YOUR STRENGTH!” Ophelia raised her sword toward the sky in a two-hand grip and then cast it down to the ground.

 

Ophelia’s sword flew over the wall and struck the ground a short distance behind me, burying nearly half the length of its blade in the ground. A pulse of amber light radiated from the sword and then Ophelia and her entourage disappeared.

 

Initially puzzled by the lingering presence of Ophelia’s sword, I quickly realised that an amber glow now clung to not only Ophelia’s sword, but Blackthorn as well. Looking to my champions, I found that their weapons had taken on the amber glow as well.

 

“A conditional, persistent, and self-perpetuating slayer enchantment,” Wisp commented approvingly, “A worthwhile and surprisingly efficient use of Divinity. I am glad our conversations have not been a complete waste.”

 

“Uh, what?” Randle asked before I had the chance to do the same.

 

“The sword is serving as a focus for channelled Divinity to provide a localised mass enchantment- Wisp began to explain in his usual dry crackling voice but was interrupted.

 

“The sword is making everyone's weapons enchanted,” Faine stated matter-of-factly without a hint of judgement or impatience despite his interruption.

 

“But what was that about self-perpetuating?” Jayne asked curiously, “Does that mean it will continue to reapply the enchantment? Or?...”

 

Wisp remained silent for a moment, no doubt to ensure he wouldn’t be interrupted for a second time. “If my observations are correct, the manastones within undead slain by the slayer enchantment will be consumed as a means to fuel the ongoing enchantment projected through the sword...Of course...I could be wrong...” Wisp admitted, shrugging the shoulders of his robe, “In any case, the cost in Divinity will have been significantly less than what would have been required to maintain such an enchantment indefinitely or individually bless every weapon in a fashion such as your own,” he motioned to the weapons Ophelia had created for each of them, “Truly divine artefacts in their own right,” he then turned the hood of his robe toward the sword embedded in the ground, “And so is this,” without visible effort, Wisp drew the sword out of the ground and rested the flat of the blade against his chest.

 

“You intend to stand vigil with the blade?” I asked, impressed by Wisp’s demonstration of initiative.

 

“I do,” Wisp stated matter of factly and effortlessly leapt up and onto the wall, “A beacon is best served where it can be seen by those who need it most. And of us all, I believe I, by virtue of experience and ability, am best suited to the role!” The righteous candour of his statement was slightly undercut by the strikingly appropriate level of amusement in his voice.

 

***** Liz (Vampyr) - Werrian Empire *****

 

Droplets of rain splashed against Liz’s face as she raced across the open countryside at breakneck speeds. Her undead eyes ignored the minor sources of irritation outright and remained fixated on the distant horizon.

 

Something had roused Liz from her slumber and she could not resist the urge to investigate. Vaguely, Liz was aware that something had a hold of her and that her decisions were not entirely her own. However, attempting to shake the compulsion had proved beyond her capabilities. Resisting, even for a few moments, had proven exhausting.

 

Which left Liz in her current state, reduced to a mere passenger in her own body.

 

The sole consolation she felt in the current situation, was that the extreme cloud cover blocked out the sun to a high enough degree that her exposed skin didn’t go up in flames.

 

The further Liz travelled, the more she found that she was not alone.

 

Hundreds of weaker Vampyrs were racing as fast as they were able in the same direction, and all manner of lesser undead were doing the same.

 

Liz would have assumed Amalda was responsible, but she would have had the courtesy to let Liz know beforehand and not just sprung it on her like this.

 

What Liz found odd was how the shambling hordes of Zombies had suddenly changed horror franchises and were awkwardly sprinting instead of stiffly stumbling about. They were very nearly as fast as some of the stealthier undead who favoured ambushes.

 

Upon some self-reflection, Liz realised that she was moving faster than she was normally used to as well. Not that she often had cause to test her limits.

 

Liz became vaguely aware that Amalda was trying to get in contact with her, even going so far as to attempt compulsions of her own. Liz wasn’t sure whether to be pissed off or touched. Whatever was calling her, compelling her, made it difficult to think clearly. All she knew for certain was that there was somewhere she needed to be, and she had to get there as quickly as she was able.

 

As true darkness descended, Liz took on a sustained burst of speed, outstripping the weaker vampires by leaps and bounds. She felt a perverse satisfaction in demonstrating her superiority over them.

 

[ Y̶̧͙̼̒͛̓͐͜ȍ̵̪͉̜̙̬͙̳͓̈̐̈́u̵̫̙̤̻̬̘̝̖͚̹̰̾̈́͂̌͋̾̃͑͜͝r̸̨̘̥̫̞̮̪͖̅̈́̅̀̊̐̅̔́͋͛̕̚͠͝ ̴̛̟̪̭̖̼̺̜̈̍͂͛̏͗̈́̈͝Ļ̸̬̪̖̰͕͔͙̰͈̑̑̂͛̿͂̋́̏̔̿͝͠͝o̴̩̒r̷̨̨̝̰̳̹̘͇̗͉͙̦͉̯͌̏͒̾͌͌̀̑̑̎̓͘d̷̛̈́͆̊̈́̓̉͆́ͅ ̴̛̹̖͒̄͊̓̊̓̌̈͌̕h̸̨͙̩͖̗̬̟̯̠̤̝͐͆̄a̴̲͎̩̹̿̊̊̿͂͛͐̒̕͝ͅș̵̲͍́͂̏̌͋͋͛̓̿͋́̚͝ ̴̧̞̫͚̳̉͒̾̍C̴̜͓͐̔̍͆̓͘͠͠͝o̴̱̪͖̩͖͉̥͛͋͂̑̎̄̅̔̈m̴̡̼̏͒̈͠m̵̡̟̙͂͑̈̂͊̇͒̀͐͒͗͐͠ą̴̳̲̳̯͌̓̈́͑̅͜n̷͙͗͠d̴̡͍͔͙̥͉͎̎̐͜ȩ̵͔̹͖̜͓̫͓̝͛̄̋̕d̶̳̠̖͕͎͔͈͊̾̆͐̀̚͝ ̸̩͍͆y̶̨̜̩͎̹͙̦̜̫̘̙̥͍̹͈̾̐̐̉͑̔̏̄̓͌͌͘o̴̧̜̲̮͈̒̎̈͝ú̵̧̢̟̬̙̮̺͕̯͔̜͔͑͐̒́̔̑͋̔̕ ̸̛̪̙͎̩̦͍̺̘̦̗̳͖̺̍̔̀̔̽̋̏͛̕̚͝t̵̮̦̗͙̫̰̭͒o̸̯͔̫̣̳̅͑̀̈́͗̋̏̓͒̃̆͗̏̍͘ ̸̖̯͋̆̃̀̽͒̾r̷̺̲̗̟̯̈́͒͆͐̽̌͘̕̚͝͠͠ͅe̶̢͖̫͉̙̣̳̣̦͕̿̋ț̴̡̨̱̣̱̪͖̺̥̼͉̄̉̈́́̔̃̉̾̇̑́̚͝ų̷͈̬̣̲̭̳̩̣̖̣̒̀͛̎͊̄́̐́̅̈́͋̂̾̃r̵̢͎͎͙̦̜͎͔̦͎̥͙̦̦͑̅̐̈͊͑̑̐̍̎́n̴͕̫̳͔̠̻͙̦̻̣̯̼͚̼̉̄̓̑͑̆̈̈́̉̓̃̃̏͜!̵̡̱̫͖͕̅͌͂͋̒̑͌̎̑̿͆̒̕͝ ] A panel of garbled text briefly blocked Liz’s line of sight.

 

Without a biological requirement to blink and her body basically running on autopilot, Liz spent the better part of what felt like at least an hour trying to puzzle out what it said. In that time, two more panels of garbled text appeared beneath the first, thoroughly impairing Liz’s ability to make out her surroundings.

 

Curiously, whatever compulsion had a hold of her, seemed to take Liz’s impaired vision into account and slowed her pace to a brisk walk.

 

“Weeeeeirrrrrrrd...” Liz’s attempt at a snarky observation was ruined as she found herself struggling to speak.

 

<Ļ̷̨̖͖̫̞̀̓̒͛̽̑ĭ̷̡̤̣̪̘͇̪͐͜ẕ̶̛͕̥̫̏͆̈́̿̐̊̇͠!̸̡̛̖̘̙̦̤̇̀̏̂̇̌̂̓̚̕ ̵̨͚̤̒W̴̨̨͉̜̠̞̲̩̘͓̠̮̙͉͗͛͗́͌̔̂̕ͅĥ̶̡̨̫̲͍̠̪̦̈́͆̑̊̅́̉̈́̕͝ḝ̵̨̯͎̣̩̥͔̈̆̒͊́̍̓̇̇̌̈́̅͒̿ͅŗ̴͈̳͓̫̹̪̼͆̎̈́̈́̿͋ͅe̴̢̻͉̼̣̫̲̦͓̲͗̉̑̈̋͘ ̸̧̧̨͇͕̤̣̖̳̤̻̽̏̉͌͌͜t̴̨̛̝͚͉̬̟̟̽͊̐̋̂͊̎͋͑̚͝͝͠h̷̳̱̙̤̠̆̏̓́̊͒͆̈́͊̔è̷̺̘͊͑͘ ̶̡̢̜̼̝̞̖̖͍̯̏́̅̓̆̂̽́̔͋́̓̚̚͝f̵̧͇̙̝͖̮̾̃͛͆͑̉̅̿͐͘̚͝u̷̢̗̹̹̦͚͎̱̘̙̘̖̝̳̓͛̕͝͝͠c̷̻̋̓͋̑k̸͎̀͐ ̶̡̛̙̬̇̇̈̈́̈̈́ä̵̫̠̱̖͚̝̙̝͙̬̰̙̘͖́̇̃͐̀̈́̏̑͆͝r̵̦͓̅̀̈̉͝ę̴̛̤̙̍͋͐̅͛̐̑ ̸̧̢̨͈͈̦̦͙̻͎̟̯̹̦͆̾̏̋͒̇̊̽̂͝͝͝y̵̡̲͉͚̲͇̯̯͎̣̭̙̭͆͒̂͊̐́̈́̅̐̏̂̍̓͒ͅơ̶͍̟̮̲̺̼͇̝̭͇̭̮̠͐̈͛̆͐̃͗̉͘ų̷̢͓̜̟̠̝̥̜̉́͋͑̽̽̚?̴̛̹̭̟͕̀̓̈́!̵̫̪̪̯̜̗͙̘̯̣̾> Liz vaguely became aware of a distorted voice buzzing insistently in the back of her mind. Instinctively, Liz recognised that it had to belong to Amalda.

 

Gathering her thoughts as best she could, Liz struggled to think of how to go about explaining what was happening. Her struggle was intensified when her attempts at concentration reflexively caused her to blink. With the panels of garbled text no longer blocking her vision, Liz’s body swiftly returned to its original breakneck pace.

 

<Running...> Liz tried to communicate back through the mental connection but felt the connection break before she could form more than a single word.

 

However, persistent and loyal bitch that she was, Amalda reestablished the connection again a few moments later. <L̴̢͕̦̭̅̽͗̓͊î̷̡̛̛̘͙͖̬́̀́̑͐̿̂͒̏̽͘z̷̪͚͕̄̓͋̈́̍̔̓͛̅̏̇̀?̵͚̙̤̬͉͖́!̵̛̝͉͈̹͍̦̠̅͐̋͒͊͆̋̑͌͑̂͐͠ ̵͔̞͑̿́̚̕͘͝W̸̠͇͇̤̟͓̓̀̊͒͊̐͗̀̇̒̓͛͝͝ḩ̶̦̫̜͙̣̤͓͊̉̆̄͛́̓̉͝å̸̱̒̇͊̂̉͘̕͠t̴͇̲̮̰́̑͑́̑́̍̓͂̚͝ ̷̧̬̖̹͖̯͉̞̰͋̓̚͠ţ̷̛̛̟̣̀͒̌̈́̓́͋̕h̴̢̛̤̭̯̹̞̘̥̺͚́́̓̋̈͒͐͝͝ͅe̴̙̻̫͚͌̂̑͂̆͋͛̿̚͘ ̴̠͓͂̀̎̄͠f̷̗͔͍̻̳̭͔͔̐͂̄́̀̇ṵ̷̡̯̼̬͍̗͙̝̤͈̝̜̈́͋̅̇͑̆̅̀͒͗̂͘̕͜͜͝c̴̛̛̥̫̽̂̃̈́̑̈́͝k̵̢̺͍̬͉̤̝͔̜̱͓̝̠̈́͋̀ ̵̧̠̞͈͚̲͊͌̆̕w̶̙̞̲̻̯̻͙̯͙̱̥͔̋̓̔̀̄̅̎̒̀̿̾̿̚ͅͅȧ̸̛̛̼͇̖̰͈̮̪̤͎̟̰̻̋͂̿̋͛̑̌͝͝ş̶̛̘̠̥̫̻̫͖̗̠̀͋̽̿̒̋͗̿̐͌̈́́͜ͅ ̷̳̲̃̄͊̅͝ṫ̴̳̍̓̒̓̀̃͆͛̽̄̑́̕͜h̴̛͔̬̿̎̍̐͊̃̈̿̒͠å̶̢̢̛͔̻͍̫̲͂̈́̋̇̌̊̔̇̆̒̅̕͝ț̴̱̻̩̖͍̻͓́͗̾̈́͆͑͠?̷̧̨̠̯̙͎̪͇͉͓̝͈͈͕͊̈̉͋̋̉̈̈́̓͘ͅ ̴̭̮͚̤̣͍̝͉̯̽̋̓̆̌̒̾̍͝Ẁ̶̢̮͍̻̹̖͖̣̘̐̾̂̄͊͒̽̄̌́͆̚͘͝h̵͖̻̥͇̜͍̲͔̺̟̠͕̖̗͐͝ḛ̶͓͓̥̠͈̜̹̍͑̏̐̌̆͆̅̄͛̚͘r̸̝͉̳̣̮̝̅̉̎͌̈͘͝ĕ̸̤̭͉̰͎̥̮̟̱͎̱͝ͅ ̶̢̨͓͈̱͍͕̥̦́͆̀͊̅́͜à̷̯͒̊̾́͒͂͛͌̌͛̊͛̚r̷͈̙͓̱͎͖̠͕̭̭̹̮̓͑̃̌̅͂̃̈́͒̓̕͘ë̶̛̛̛̙̦̰̣̪͇̪̰̘͇̗̬͎̮́͗̽͑̆͜͝ ̶̡̧̨̛̪̬̰̠̗̖̥͉̤̜̼̆̄̆̓ẙ̶̛̘̟͎̻̣͔̈́͂̒̒̔̄̈́̔͂͜ơ̸̳̞̦̥̳̺͉̻̫̎̀̾͆̑̑͗͊͐̅͘͘͠u̴̧̮̳̩͉͔͉̩̗͇̬͙̾̅̾͑̌̆͒̚͜͜ͅ?̸̛̤̞̥̽̇͒́͝!̷̡͎̳̘̯̳̿̆̏̈́͠͝> Unfortunately, Liz still couldn’t understand what Amalda was saying.

 

<Running...> Liz felt the connection become strained but it managed to hold. <Need...Go...Follow...> The connection collapsed.

 

There was a lengthy pause before the connection opened for a third time. <I̸̡͔̥̣̯͎̜͉͎͙͗͆̾̇͛͊̈́̈́̅͌͆͜͝ͅ ̷͍̥̮̗̗̯̰̲̻͎͔͕͌̿̂͘c̸̗̣͋̐̎̋͠ȃ̴̫̟̙̪͙͖̝̼̈́̓͜ņ̷̱̟̿̌́̈̋͋̏͘'̵̡̩̬̟̘̞̪̥̮̻̙͍̍̈́͛̄̐̾͠͠ṯ̶͖̦̹̻͈͖̻͓͚̗̇́͒͑͠ ̷̨̥̩̫͓̝̚͜ͅư̸̻̥͍͂͆̋̀̈́̄̍̄́̀́̌̕͜ń̶͈̌͛͛͛̑͐̎̍̐̐̚͠d̸͔͈͔͓̳̩͛̈́̑͛͊̍͊̿̕͜e̷̢̗̮̲͚̖̣̝̠̽̾̄̀̑̌̈́͂͐̕͜r̴̰̲̭͇͈̟̻̠̠̼̼͙̃͜s̴̡̤̺̬̳̩͇̩͉̺̘̫̜̖̆̀͐̔͑̇̊͊̌̔̆̃̎̈́t̴̡̪̲̰̪͈͚͔̙̳̮̟̼͋̔̀̊̊a̷̧͍̞̺̮̗͉̫̐̃̅n̸̢̧̡̝̞͚̣̣͎͖̆̂́͑̂̂͝d̴͖̬̠̪͋̌ ̶̙̦̘̼̞̙̺̒̓̈̚͝ẇ̵̨̦̘̋̎͋̈́̑̚͝h̶̼͍̳̜̟̥͕̤̤͚͎͔̰̓ã̵̫̟̪͓͓̝͆͒̃t̸̲͔̤͉̓̔̎̃̌̎͒͝ͅ ̸͍̗̤̞̗̯̳̰̅̊͒̂ͅý̸̛͈̩͊̑͊̇̋͂͑̈́͝͝o̷͔̭̤̟̻̙̊͛̾̈́̈͜͝͝ũ̸̧̳͖̪͈͉͈̟̖͍̝̤͘̚͜ ̴̨̤͉̩̗̟̹̊͆̀̔͂̐͂͆̔͑̌̓͛̚a̵̼͌́̀̃̌̆͒̐̍͋́̒̚͘͜͠r̸̡̙͍̫͔̲̙̅̌̄̅̓̂̅̈̈́͑͌̚̕͝ͅę̶̜̺͓̮̬̪̮̩̮͒͘ ̴̧̡̨̝̮̻̖̫̻̤͚̂̎́̿̈́̽s̵̡̨̰̬͖̯͚̪͛̉̅̔̎̈́̅͋̾̚͜͝͠͝a̵͖̳̠͎̳̮̙̥̪̔̎̈́̎̋̓̊̓̇͆̚͘ỷ̸̛̮̖̮̙͔̹͎̩̱͍̘̺̒͛̌̿̈̓́͝ͅỉ̷̬̍͛̃̋̿̊ͅͅn̸̨̡̞̼̗͙̺̖̻͍̼̼̯̰̙͑̕g̷̛͕̙͓̝̗͑͑͐͑̊́͌͐̂̅͜!̸̧̳͔͍̀̔̑́̏̀̃͊̿̏̒̔̌̚͠ ̷̬̐̀̀̎̇̊̽̾̆̓̾̑͝Ỉ̵̧̧̞̭͚̼͉̹̽̈̀̕͜'̷̨̢̛͎̩̣̜̣̺̫̖̖̒́̀̌̀̓̍̋͋͛̋͛m̷̧͖̟̪͕̣͂̆͐̉͋̅̒̃̑͌̊͘ ̴͎̺̫̩̻̂̇͆̊̈̕͘̕ĉ̵̢̠̼͚̳̄͑̆̋̔͐̃̀́̇o̴̢̮̪̘̯̬̣͚̒͒̎̅͌̃̑͒͌̿́m̸͚̣̮̓͝i̷̬̤͕̮͋̎̏̉̀̓n̶̻̘̖̲̭̞̿̂̉͐̄͌͒͂̍̈͑g̸̛̫̫̮͕̳̱͍̒͆̓͐̂̋́̓̔̓̚͠͝ͅͅͅ ̶͙̦̭͎͗͑̃̓͑t̶̯͈͚̫̫̯̬̺͕͚͎̬̖̞̬̏̆͐̾́̈̈̏͆̕̕͝͠o̵̺̼̝͈͔͇̜͔̜̟͓͍͌̅̃̾̈̇̐̓̚̚͝ ̷̨̛͙͔̩͚̗͙́̂̾̓̓̓̈́͊͋͝͝͠ḡ̸̛͇̥̼͎̳͚̬̃͑͗̈͒̓́͛̋͘̕̕͝ͅé̴̡̡̘̜͖̱͇̻̘̘̞͔͌̏̓̐̒̄̉̂́́̋͝͝ͅṫ̸̛̬̟̣͙̠͕͕̯͖̳̻̮͛̀̅͗͒̎͑̾͒ ̵̡̱̰̭̳̺̥̭̘̻̮͍̲̣͊͌́> Before Liz could attempt to make a reply, the connection closed.

 

As the surrounding landscape gave way to open plains, Liz struggled and ultimately failed to keep track of the passage of time.

 

The call had slowly grown in intensity as Liz drew closer to its source, dominating her every thought with a need to answer and obey.

 

Without warning, Liz came to a sudden and unceremonious halt as the compulsion disappeared from her mind.

 

Confused and disoriented, Liz found herself surrounded by a shambling horde of rotting half-frozen Zombies. Liz spotted another Vampyr a short distance away who seemed just as confused as she was.

 

However, just as Liz was about to make a demand of the weaker Vampyr, a glowing arrow struck the Vampyr in the head.

 

Amused by the Vampyr’s bad luck, Liz snickered and gave the Vampyr a moment to remove the projectile from its eye socket.

 

However, instead of removing the arrow, the Vampyr just stood there with a surprised and pained expression on its deathly pale face. Then it crumbled into a pile of ash.

 

Liz felt a surge of panic and ducked on instinct, barely dodging a trio of arrows that would have struck her in the head and neck. The mindless Zombies behind her collapsed the moment they were struck, their empty clothes collapsing to the ground as their rotten bodies turned to ash.

 

“The fuck is going on?!” Liz cursed and attempted to crawl through the shuffling horde of Zombies.

 

In the distance, Liz could hear the urgent and angry shouts of humans and had to assume that she had been drawn into some sort of ambush. However, as she tried to run away, Liz felt the compulsion take hold of her mind once more and drive her back the way she had come. Reduced to a mere passenger, Liz felt a surge of pure terror as weaker undead were cut down all around her.

 

The moment Liz regained control, she dropped straight down to the ground once more and began feverishly digging at the half-frozen dirt with her bare hands. using her unnatural strength and hardened claws, Liz made good time digging out a foxhole to hide in. However, just as she was hunkering down and intending to formulate some sort of plan, her eyes were drawn skyward toward the scaly underbelly of a giant flying reptile.

 

“Oh fuck me...” Liz cursed, “Things weren’t bad enough already? They got a fucking dragon too?!”