Turns out that unlike old world video games, walking back out of a room right after you’ve entered it without doing anything there first gets you just as many strange looks as doing it in real life would.

Not that we’d be able to try and leave the sanctum without doing or saying anything after setting our new resurrection spot, as before we’d had a chance to even turn back around the resident Priestess had already noticed us. I’ve never liked being cornered by religious preachers back home, but at least in this instance I was shielded from the Priestess’s mostly benign pious enthusiasm.

Largely because I was lucky enough to have a convenient scapegoat with me.

Roxi.

Noticing my companion was a not just a Blessed adventurer but also a Priestess of her Goddess’s divine counterpart, I got to watch her unleash her full fury on my partner. That and I got to enjoy watching a flustered and fumbling Roxi as she tried to roleplay her character’s backstory under the Priestess of Creation’s enthusiastic interrogation. 

What was she doing here? Where did she train? Was she on a pilgrimage, traveling to preach or was she traveling to perform the duties of a wandering Ruinite Priestess preserving the sanctity of death from the heresies of the undead and undying? Where we’d already travelled? If she could share stories of our adventures?

I ended up getting way too much amusement watching her struggles not to drown beneath the verbal deluge.

I should probably apologise to Roxi later. Probably…

That said she survived and not too worse for wear for the experience, eventually managing to make her excuses. Exhaustion from our journey allowed us to escape, back to where Gael was already back waiting at our packs.

Roxi hadn’t lied either, we were exhausted and the sun had finally set. Which was either a good or a bad thing considering Gale’s now heightened misgivings about staying here.

“Turns out things are way worse of a shitstorm out this way than what the Duchess’ informants had reported. The nobles out this way are not as stubbornly unified as they are in the western half of Parcosia under that egomaniac Redwood. Our information had already told us that the east was a bloody free for all, with half a dozen different factions vying for power including those nearer to the Highlands who have allied with Redwood. Towns and villages have been changing hands every other week, crops have been burned and villages torched for suspicion of aiding one side or the other.”

“What we didn’t know is that with Redwood’s allies focused on the capital, the bloodstained balance that’d formed has been shattered. That incompetent waste of noble ancestry Haverhill and his forces have not only been able to muster a fucking large offensive, but has also been launching frequent raids ahead of their advance. They’ve been stealing anything of value, burning anything they can’t take and putting entire villages to the sword.”

“All those fires we flew over was him?” asked Roxi. “Baron Haverhill is starting to sound a lot more vicious and competent than you or the Duchess made him out to be. That or both opportunistic and extremely lucky.”

“He’s definitely opportunistic alright, but it’s clear to me the scum sucking traitor has help, not just in the form of gold, weapons and supplies, but also men and sharper minds than his own to lead them,” the merc responded, spitting in disgust. 

“Unfortunately…” she sighed. “Unfortunately we still need hard evidence and to find out who is pulling his strings. Even more unfortunate for us, those raids make this camp even more dangerous. There is some safety in numbers, but numbers risk attention attracting trouble. Worst of all, this group is large enough to attract trouble, but barely a handful are worth fuck all in a fight and they’re exhausted ill-equipped deserters.”

We were going to have to pack up and move off until we found a safe new campsite far enough away from here. Another half night or less of sleep after a day of exertion… 

Fuck.

I’m sure my exhaustion and dismay was obvious because after looking my way Gael continued, “That said we’re too tired and it's too late to move off and camp elsewhere. We’re just going to have to set a watch and take our chances tonight.”

Equal measures of relief and guilt flooded through me. I would be able to rest and sleep soon, but the others were taking a big risk as a result. 

“Is there anything we can do to make this camp safer?” I asked. “Maybe piling logs, large branches and building stones around the ruins periphery to block or slow attackers?”

“Know that might actually work! I doubt we can pile up enough to act as a proper barricade or defence against projectiles, but it just might slow down any attackers just enough to allow us to mount a defence,” the other cat replied enthusiastically. 

“At the very least, I’ll be able to rest easier even if I won’t be sleeping much. Roxi you're with me, let's go and see if we can muster up support and more ideas for Aisling’s idea. Good thing you’re one of those rare finger wagglers with muscles. Aisling since you're our fainting fae, take this time to rest,” Gael instructed. Then, silver furred ears folded forwards pleadingly she asked, “And if you’re willing, hot food would be a nice thank you. We’ll probably be very hungry when we finish.”

* * *

I awoke in a panic to the sensation of being shaken by the shoulder as a hand clasped firmly over my mouth, stifling any cries of alarm I might have made. Quickly adjusting to the dark, my vision came into focus on the figure who had gagged and awakened me.

Gael.

Unlike the previous wake up, rather than mirthful mischief her face was creased with apprehension and focus, a finger held in front of her lips signalling the need for silence.

Something was wrong.

Nodding, I felt her release my mouth and move to wake Roxi. Quietly wriggling free of my blankets, I pulled my boots back on and patted myself down to make sure I had my brush, hairclip and equipment. The ruin’s glade was still night dark with only the weak moonlight of the waning silver sliver above the pines and the orange coals of dying campfires throughout the refugee camp. It couldn’t have been that long since we’d fallen asleep after eating.

Ears flicking around, I could hear the faint rustling sounds of people quietly waking their companions and grabbing weapons. 

The softs cracks of twigs breaking underfoot pulled my attention beyond the camp's periphery and the makeshift barriers that had gone up earlier.

The quiet rasp of steel on leather and the creaks of metal and wood under tension were like nails on a chalkboard to my mind and sent my tail fur bristling.

Moment of silence and stillness settled like a heavy blanket, the air felt heavy with anticipation.

Snap!

Suddenly the silence was filled with the snap of bow strings releasing and the whistle of arrows and bolts flying through the air. One hissed past my ear, barely brushing it with the searing sensation of a wasp bite.

Cries of pain and agony rose up around me.

And next to me.

Gasping with pain, Roxi bent over and snapped the arrow, pulling it free of her thigh.

Yells filled the air as soldiers in Haverhill brown charged the barricades and the few soldiers defending them cried out to rally, while a chaos of panicking refugees screamed pushing their way to the cover of the ruined chapel.

The terrified refugees were not safe in the open, some clutched at arrow pierced limbs, while others more seriously wounded collapsed beneath the panicked mass to be trampled.

Already standing again, Roxi began hobbling forward, throwing blades and chains of darkness into the attacking soldiers as Gale rushed forward through the panicked masses to the barricade. 

Dark chains wrapped around soldier’s legs tripping and felling them or pinning their arms to their torso leaving them open to the swords of the defenders. The scythe-like bolts of darkness sliced through metal leather and flesh on impact, releasing sprays of blood into the dark.

Thinking quickly I began painting the air in front of me with my brush. Launching arcane bolts, deploying shimmer barricades and other traps, masking the movements of the refugees with illusions.

Flashes of purples, blues, pale greens and sharp whites flared as my magic exploded into being like fireworks painting the night’s canvas.

Already at and on the rough barricade, the blackclad silver-furred mercenary danced as her immense sword swung down diagonally in great arcs, dismembering, beheading and grievously wounded soldiers caught in its path with each swing. 

There may have been only ten defenders, us included, for the several dozen refugees and several scores of attackers. For every enemy killed or downed it seemed there were five more.

A half dozen corpses in brown jerked up to their feet as if puppeted by invisible strings and launched themselves at their former allies as the Priestess of Ruin attempted to even the odds.

Following her lead I painted into being illusionary guards and launched them into the fray, sending them charging towards the enemy only to explode with volatile arcane energies as they were cut down.

Suddenly the corpse soldiers collapsed as if their strings were cut, to lay unmoving down on the pine needle covered earth.

No.

Eyes searching where I’d seen her last, I found her standing awkwardly.

No.

One leg crumpling as its strength gave out, the other wounded leg splayed to the side as if she had dragged it once it failed her while dodging. Despite this she was still standing, one hand gripping the shaft of a spear, attempting to hold up her weight even as the spear pierced her chest from the side.

No.

Darkness closed in on the edges of my vision as I rushed towards her, already painting the air in front of me casting a spell.

[Eldritch Phantasms]

As the spell activated a menagerie of terrifying illusionary monsters exploded into being in front of me and I felt the mental fatigue from low mana wash over me. Illusionary wasps, wolves, Basiphusises and an assortment of horrific monsters I’d found sketches of in a monster bestiary back in the Palace.

Unleashing them on the Haverhill knights and men at arms, I launched an arcane bolt at the spear wielder and dived to catch Roxi.

Landing in a kneeling position, I held onto the body numbly watching the battle.

A silver blur in the thick of the fighting caught my attention. Gael. 

Claymore lost. Cloak torn even more than before and light flesh wounds marking her arms, legs and face in the places where her armor didn’t cover.

Still fighting.

Wielding knives with a fury that made it almost look as if she had claws. Throwing knives too. A blurring storm of violence unleashed.

The illusionary monsters reached the fray, but unlike the false soldiers from before they did not explode. Teeth, fangs and claws pierced and rent. Illusions spilled the blood of soldiers. Illusions all too real despite their spectral appearance. 

The battle’s tide shifted. The surviving defender rallied.

The raiders began breaking, fleeing, ones and two at first and then more. 

Illusions pursuing, pouncing, routing. The enemy broke.

Exhausted cries of victory rang out.

We’d won. I could feel the tension of battle already leaving me, even if I didn’t feel like celebrating.

My ears twitched with alarm at the sound of something whistling through the air and the sigh of relief I’d been releasing caught in my throat. 

My breath halted. 

My lungs burned.

Reaching for my throat and neck, my fingers found feathers and rough wood.

Ah fuck! Not again…

You have Died. You will respawn after an indeterminate length of time has passed. Please enjoy your death dream in the meantime and thank you for playing Cauldron of Realms Ascended!