4.18
“Fifty-eight. The best thing about Shadesmar is that no matter what pit of despair you find yourself in, you always know there is an even deeper, even darker pit of despair you didn’t even realise existed.” - Excerpt from Ethanial’s Enchiridion of Encounters.
I couldn’t decide if it was easier or harder without numbers.
On one hand, I don’t need to keep accurate track of health, mana and stamina points.
On the other hand, I can’t keep accurate track of health, mana and stamina points.
Without exact calculations, everything had to be estimated and horrifically, that meant inaccuracies.
So when half the group fell down in exhaustion, I knew we reached the fourth-worst outcome.
Two of my safety nets were gone. The potions we had were exhausted in order to keep optimal rotations and Greenie was MIA.
Which made the current situation more tricky.
As the great beast shoved aside a pile of bodies, some people hurriedly stood back up.
“But not enough,” my other grumbled.
Very annoying. The cleric was completely unconscious, and while the spear user and the gnome with the absurdly long name were still conscious, they were clearly very tired.
Noam was still somewhat fresh, given his Breathless skill and just being more used to pacing himself than others.
Utoqa was already up, that guy didn’t seem to tire at all.
The dragonborn Torrin stood but there was blood flowing down her nose and she wobbled slightly. Unfortunate.
Her companion Mehens was doing a lot better, tired but given a lot of time to rest.
Celine and the rogue, Rivita, were still fresh given that they stayed out of the main fight.
Naukoth was still playing his song so-
My brows crossed.
Naukoth is tired.
I saw it now that I looked at him closely, his back was hunched, his head hanging low and his fingers moved with far more care than before.
“Shit,” we both thought. “He’s the important one.”
“It is a miracle,” a voice called out, “how you managed to hold out this long.”
I didn’t turn so much as I shifted my attention back to the beast. The thing was huge, at least five metres tall and wide. A hairy beast made the base, eight crustacean-like appendages shot out from each side, hair obscuring the base where they connected, it had three heads, a blue gecko-like head on the left, a craggy, rock-like feline head and an eyeless beak on the right.
I was on the last rotation, so bubbles of poisonous spores still permeated the air, yet it shoved through them as if they were nothing.
“Yellow,” I whispered, “tell Torrin to prepare her Prime spell.”
From the back of the chimera, parting the long sinuous hair, a figure rose. Demon like horns and red skin. A tiefling similar to Noam, he wore baggy olive green robes which obscured most of his body, adorned on the robes were green symbols of a water spring and he wore a sash across his chest, holding three crystalline test tubes filled with a foggy liquid.
Wait, “Shit.”
I recognised that symbol, I read about that as the one representing the Oasis. Did that mean those test tubes…
“Has the Ivory Tower finally started to take this seriously? You are not riff-raff, yet you are not that powerful either. Some elite group sent to scout out?”
There was a pause, before Noam spoke up, “We’re not really a part of the Ivory Tower.”
“Huh?” the cultist spoke with a bit of confusion. “You are not whelps from the Ivory Tower?”
“We were paid to help out,” Noam added carefully.
To the right of us, Rivita was shuffling down the broken stump, did she plan to run? I can’t assume she will be of any help soon.
“Which guild are you part of?”
“I’m not with anyone, other than the mushroom over here,” Noam gestured towards me.
Good timing, Torrin flinched a bit when Yellow touched her foot, but his attention was on me for the brief moment.
“Are any of you part of a guild? Or a band?”
“I’m not.”
“Did they just pay random people to throw themselves into here?”
There was a brief exchange of awkward glances.
“You’re saying,” he began in disbelief, “that their three-year-long pursuit of me. From the edges of Madelyn’s Cease to the Whispering Mountains and finally to the shores of the Tyrian. Where I have decided to hold my final stand, surrounded on all sides and spending weeks to assemble a force, and they decided to outsource our final battle to random people on the street!?”
“That’s capitalism for you.”
Noam laughed, as well as someone behind me, Mehens? Huh, I took him to be the quiet badass type.
The cultist didn’t seem to think I was as funny.
“You will die first,” he snarled, “then your friends. Then those fools outside!”
“These people aren’t really my friends-” in the middle of my sentence, I thought, “Now.”
As Yellow made the signal, Torrin’s arms were wreathed in flame, before they shot out. Splashing onto the Chimeric creature. Lighting it aflame in a burst of light!
“-so you won’t have to kill them.”
The cultist fell off the writhing and burning creature with a scream, giving me a few seconds to cobble a plan together.
“Noam,” I said, “Knife situation, go for the mage seriously.”
“And if he has a decent defensive spell?”
“We’re fucked.” “Buy time for us to take out the chimera.”
“Prepare to fight!” I yelled, “Focus on the big one first!”
Wasted words as it turned out, as they were already moving to action. Utoqa rushed forward, his body low to the ground, in moments, he was under the flaming creature, his axe swing wide and slashing its underbelly.
The creature roared in pain, three heads united in agony, but instead of blood, a pure black ichor dripped out, Utoqa rushed out before it fell on him, but there was a great sizzling as the ichor burned the ground.
Behind me, Mehens was helping Torrin and the gnome up, Naukoth gritted his teeth and continued his strength song.
Right now we had to burst down the chimera. Torrin used her last spell for the fight, so I remained the last active mage on the field. I swiftly reviewed my options, I was at around eighty percent mana, my high Wisdom giving me enough mana regen to last with a bit of decent parcelling. The creature was on fire which was actually detrimental to me, spores would burn up and my acid would extinguish the fire. For now, I should focus on utility support. Flinging my arm out, I used my third contingency. Two Mushroom Meals grew out of my arm, the pancake-like brown mushroom sprouting out swiftly. A costly spell that was, only two casts and I lost a third of my max mana. My vision shook slightly, I was at half mana now, a bit more and I will be past my mana dependency threshold.
However, trading my combat effectiveness for two other combatants was worth it.
I began moving, pulling the meals off.
Utoqa was rushing in out of the creature’s range, exchanging axe swings with shelled appendages, he wouldn’t need it and I shouldn’t break his rhythm.
Rivita and Mehens were still fresh, Rivita seeing the tide turn seemed to have overcome her cowardice and was shooting arrows towards where Noam ran circles around the mutating cultist.
Naukoth needed one, if he stopped our combat efficacy would fall dramatically. Next had to be one of the tired melees, the gnome and spear user and while I would love to get the cleric back up he was unconscious.
I moved to them, “Eat this!” I yelled, throwing one towards Mehens, “They restore stamina!”
Next was Naukoth, “Open your mouth!” I threw it directly in, the orc started chewing furiously, sweat dripping from his forehead.
“We need to free the other!” Torrin yelled, leaning on Mehens, she was clutching her head.
“Which one!” I yelled, glancing towards the two already downed bodies on the ground. I checked them already, concussion on one and blood loss for the other. Both were beyond my power.
“Not them,” the gnome yelled as she pointed behind Naukoth, “The wall is an illusion, there’s a person trapped behind it!”
She rushed towards me, taking bites of the mushroom as she did so, “We need to get her out!” grabbing my hand, she dragged me directly into the stone wall.
We passed through it harmlessly, entering a small crack in the stone.
“You guys left this perfectly good choke point!” I yelled as she dragged me through.
“We had to!” she replied, before dragging me a few metres where the crack opened up, revealing a room approximately four metres in length and diameter, in front of us were dozens, hundreds of vines coiled lazily at the back of the room. In the centre, a girl in leather armour was trapped, practically subsumed into the endless vines.
Her eyes were open, but not seeing, and I soon realised why. The vines ended in serrated, lamprey like mouths and they fed on her, biting onto any piece of exposed skin, leaving small red dotted circles wherever they drank.
I see why they abandoned this spot, they wouldn’t have fit and the vines would’ve attacked them.
“Can you get her out without harming her?”
The dragonborn must’ve been unable to help as well, the girl must’ve already been trapped before she could do anything. Her flames would’ve burned the victim as well.
“Unlikely, but I’ll try,” I said as I stepped up, raising both arms. “Step back and be prepared to catch me, this will be the last of my mana.”
My eyes followed the vines trapping the girl back to their roots, and I sprayed. These vines were vulnerable to them, their shape meant more surface area was exposed. As the poison spores touched the vines, they shook and died. Low HP creatures, lucky for us.
I fell to a knee, the gnome catching me before I fell further. My mind was fading. Blinking in and out of consciousness.
“Don’t fall asleep here.”
“Get her,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
She did, using her sword to cut away at the remaining vines still stuck on the trapped person. As the girl fell the gnome caught her, a lot taller than her but the gnome held on.
The formerly trapped girl was breathing, as she fell I noticed three swords on her belt. “Hurry up,” I muttered. The gnome slumped her over her shoulder, bringing her towards me, giving her bites of the meal as the girl gaped her mouth.
“Where…”
“You’re not dead,” I muttered, “which depending on your outlook is a good or bad thing.”
The gnome grabbed my hand starting to drag me outwards. My main vision was fading in and out of black, but my other eyes were still active.
The chimera had ceased burning, revealing underneath the fur a battered and burned body covered in scars and stitches. It opened one of its mouths, the blue gecko head, and sprayed out a white frost. Utoqa reached into his pouch, pulling out a furred cloak much larger than anything the pouch should’ve held before covering himself in it.
The cold touched the cloak, stopping as Utoqa reached into his pouches again. Pulling out a white fibrous sac before throwing it overhead like a grenade. The thing exploded into a fine black dust that fell onto the creature. When the dust moved I realised with slight disgust that each speck of ‘black dust’ was actually a tiny spider. Dozens of them skittered into the exposed wounds created by the stitches and scars and the chimera screamed again as it closed the gecko and opened the beak head.
Utoqa discarded his cloak, reaching into his pouches again just as we burst through the wall illusion.
The brown-haired girl was fully conscious now, “What the fuck…”
“Wake up and fight,” I said, before adding, “or run, that is an option too.”
She stood up, getting off the gnome before drawing one of her swords, a curved sabre.
The gnome let me go, and I fell onto my staff, leaning onto it. “Send the gnome to help against the big one, Torrin and the cleric are inactive, figure out what the girl could do,” my other ordered.
“I need to regen mana, gnome help Mehens and Utoqa on the chimera, brown-haired girl tell me what you can do.”
“I can swing a sword,” she said.
“Good enough, the chimera only has heads on one side, while Utoqa keeps them busy hit it from its left, right and back-”
I couldn’t finish, as I saw Noam lose an arm.
Hook swords were hard to use.
They were clearly designed with flair and style, but retained function and quality, however at the cost of usability.
They were hard weapons to use. At first, Noam used them like he would normal dual swords, but that didn’t work. The hooked ends mean that if he didn’t cut clean through something then it would catch and he needed to deal with his weapon inside his opponent. Normally not a problem, but if you were dealing with multiple enemies then it was pretty annoying.
So Noam did what he did best. He learned.
As he rushed the red-skinned cultist, he hooked them by the ends. Throwing it out like a whip. The crescent hilt drew a bloody line across the cultist’s face before it was thrown back. The ends threatened to unhook, to fall apart, but with a thought, they magnetised together into a straight blade.
The weight wasn’t right, but it didn’t matter, using the leftover momentum, Noam smoothly transitioned into a twirl, spinning the long halberd like weapon almost three-hundred degrees before he came at the cultist from the other side!
But the cultist was prepared now, throwing up his right arm to block, his skin swiftly calcified into a hardened exoskeleton.
Yet the crescent hilt still slammed into the exoskeleton with a great force. The red-skinned tiefling yelped in surprise as the armour cracked, simple physics making the head much stronger than anything Noam could’ve managed.
The cultist staggered back, trying to create distance. ‘Mistake,’ Noam thought. He only dealt such devastating damage because of distance. The end of his weapon travelled a far greater distance than at the base where he held it and the nature of the hilt also meant more energy was directed into a small surface area. There was a reason polearms were the premier weapon before firearms.
Yet the cultist was not done, he took out his other hand, green energy weaving in between his fingers.
‘A mage huh.’ Noam rushed in closer, forced to close the distance. His weapon unhooked back into a pair of swords. Five metres between them and the cultist finished his spell, a ball of fire thrown directly at him.
But Noam tanked it directly, his fire resistance meant it was naught but a warm breeze. Yet even then, he closed his eyes for the briefest moment as the light seared him.
In that brief moment, the cultist stepped to the side, his armoured hand thrown out to smash into Noam’s face!.
Yet with his eyes still closed, Noam tilted back and like a professional limbo player he went under the cultist’s arm, scoring another slash as his blade bit into his exposed side!
The cultist snarled as he leapt back, but the blade was hooked, and the maneuver only served to impale him from the back!
“Gotta do better than that,” Noam taunted with a smile, “Decs loves that trick.”
“You will pay for that!” the cultist snarled in a language like crackling fire.
Noam smirked, and in Infernal, he replied, “I can afford it!”
‘Damn I always wanted to use that comeback.’
The cultist snarled, his armoured hand tried to unhook himself, but Noam simply dragged him closer.
He swung his free blade, a Swift Strike aiming for his neck!
In panicked desperation, the cultist threw out his unarmoured arm, trying to catch it.
Yet it did nothing, as the hook sword bit into his hand, right in between the middle and ring finger, slicing it open down the middle!
Slowly, the blade travelled up his arm, and the split continued upwards towards his chest!
‘Wait.’
The split in the cultist’s arm was perfectly down the middle and travelling farther than his blade.
Noam’s eyes widened, as the cultist’s left arm opened into two perfect halves, revealing teeth. His blade was still inside. Noam tried to throw his arm away, but with unnatural elasticity, the cultist brought his own arm past his blade, past his wrist until Noam’s arm was in between the two split halves.
With great force, the two halves bit together, severing his arm above the elbow.
“ARRRGGHH!”
Noam fell backwards, his right arm severed completely as blood flowed, yet he found his footing, his grip on the other weapon remained.
The cultist snarled, with a step forward he push kicked Noam, trying to dislodge his grip.
Noam gritted his teeth, trying to pull the enemy closer, yet his grip was weak now and the cultist remained standing.
Another powerful push kick slammed into his stomach and Noam vomited what little remains were in his stomach.
A third kick slammed into his chest, winding him. Noam lost his breath and finally, he let go, falling to the ground.
He tried to get back up, but the cultist simply stepped forward, stomping onto his chest. With his armoured arm, the cultist grabbed his head by the horn, before slamming it down!
Noam felt his mind waver, as his head was slammed into the ground again. The stone cracked beneath him and blood flowed.
It took five slams, each shattering the ground, for Noam to stop moving.
The cultist let go, spitting on the unconscious tiefling, before turning his attention to his battling minion.
