But Melos had more than one way to grind his foes to dust.
“I know the weakness of emboldening speeches, little bear,” he hissed, as Threadbare parried a blow that came far, far too close.
Your Parry skill is now level 23!
“They don’t affect the ruler who gives them! Staredown!” Melos called, and his eyes burned red from under his visor, boring into Threadbare’s own.
Within Melos’ aura of fear, Threadbare’s cool was stretched thin already. The eyes blazed into his own, and the little bear gasped as Moxie fled him. He knew fear, for the first time ever, and he quailed, even as he ducked another strike.
And then Garon spoke. “Emboldening Speech. Come on Threadbare, you’ve got this!”
Melos’ red eyes widened, and he slowed, just for a second. “What? You’re... two rulers?” He gasped. “How? WHY?”
“It’s amazing the things you can do when you’re not insane with paranoia,” Threadbare told him, recovering himself a bit. “Plan snekshot, please!” he called.
Zuula snarled, a long wordless howl in feline, and Pulsivar leaped away. The team hacking away slowly at Melos’ hit points cleared out... all save for Sloopy, who coiled around the King at Bak’shaz’ command. “Hang on Sloopy! Sloopy, hang on!”
Melos snorted, released his sword, and the blade hacked mercilessly into the serpent, who tightened his grasp—
—until Emmet spoke, in a voice like crashing metal. “Rapid Fire. Razor Shot. Concussion Shells.”
Emmet’s hand split open and rolled back, revealing the cannon behind it.
And he put his grenadier levels to good use.
“Call Beast!” Bak’shaz shouted, and in a heartbeat Sloopy dematerialized from Melos and returned to his side, as the lanky half-orc beat feet... along with everyone else who had been hacking at the King a second ago.
The bombs exploded, sending Melos staggering back. His shield warped under the pressure, and with a shriek, the demons inside burst, dripping from the cracks as red goo.
With a shout, Jarrik and Mordecai unleashed arrows and bullets on him, rocking him back and forth...
...and from the battlements, gray-cloaked figures rose and added their own arrows, arrows of pure light, ripping into his armor.
Cobblestones flew from the misses and explosions; the two ground teams backed up, and smoke and dust swirled through the area in clouds... clouds that dissipated, as Zuula shouted “Call Winds!” and whisked them away...
...to reveal Melos standing, helm cracked, revealing his lower face, and the spreading grin across it. His shield was a wreck and he tossed it aside... then drew six more blades from his sheaths, one by one, energy flickering as they produced swords from thin air. “Animus all,” he said, and they snapped into position around him. “Hellblades!” he cried, and the black steel bubbled and burst with red light that resolved into demonic faces. Melos spat and pointed his sword at Threadbare. “You face a Champion of Entropy!” he yelled, and wrecked shards of cobblestone rose up around him. “Who will Fight Beyond Reason, offering No Mercy!” he roared. “I will not yield! I am Unyielding! Now come, my Hellsteed.” he said, and a fiery horse ripped out of a hole in the air and screamed, as he mounted it in a swift motion. “Prepare to Charge—”
“Dispel Magic!”
Beryl had been lurking on the sidelines, for the most part. With mediocre close combat skills, and no way to heal the wounded thanks to Melos’ entropic strikes, she’d been feeling useless. But now, now she was very grateful that she’d fought so hard, and adventured so hard in the last few years, and ground Cleric up to twenty-five. Because watching that bastard fall to the ground as the horse disappeared out from under him? That was pretty fucking awesome.
Then he rose and ran for her, and it was a hell of a lot less awesome, as she fled and kept throwing dispels back at him—
—and then Threadbare and Emmet were in the way, Threadbare clawing at him, and Emmet smashing down on his former liege with heavy metal fists, and Melos was backing up. Again the melee teams closed in, and again Mordecai and Jarrik sniped his blades from the air.
Melos fought hard. Melos fought brutally. Melos fought with all the strength of a high-level adventurer, amplified by his status as a dungeon master’s projection.
But Melos fought alone.
And with the superior communication coordinating all the groups, Melos could not win.
He still fought. His blade crashed down on Emmet again and again and managed to connect with Threadbare a time or two, but they persisted. They had the hit points and armor to stand against him, and whenever he tried to turn back to take care of one of the smaller fry tormenting him, they’d back away while the others pressed harder. It was like a great lion fighting a wolf pack, and the outcome was inevitable.
But it was Cecelia who finished it.
“Drive him towards the gate!” Cecelia said through the raid chat.
“What? Why?” Garon snapped.
“Do it!”
Threadbare snapped his head around, almost lost it, as he saw that the portcullis was up and the gate was half-open.
“Okay,” he said through the raid chat. “I’m going to try to trick him.” Then he spoke, pointing. “No! They’ve got the gate up! Don’t let Melos escape!”
CHA+1
Immediately, the King turned and bolted, backhanding golems out of the way as he did. His armor a wreck, green patches glowing from gaping holes, he darted with all of his agility—
“Command Animus! Shut!” Cecelia shouted.
—and as he passed under the portcullis, a solid ton of animated steel snapped down, crashing into him and pinning him to the ground like a butterfly.
“Now! Hit him with everything!” Threadbare called.
And this time, when the smoke cleared, Melos did not stand.
Melos merely turned his head as Threadbare and the others approached, spitting out blood. He gazed at them with weary eyes. “Knew... it would... end this way.”
“It doesn’t have to,” Threadbare said. “Dismiss Anise. Dismiss the other daemons. We’ll come to you, and we’ll figure out a way to fix the Oblivion.”
“No,” Melos said, closing his eyes. “Better this way. Find me. Kill me. The things I’ve done...”
“No Father,” Cecelia said, moving to stand next to Threadbare. “You’ll get a trial. And then you’ll be executed or imprisoned for life, maybe. We’re not going to commit regicide. Not today. Besides, this isn’t you, anyway. If we killed it, you’d just reform it. You’re going to stay here pinned while we find the core chamber entrance, and—”
Melos screamed, long and hard, and reality flickered. And when it stopped flickering, he was gone.
And Threadbare stared, as words flashed pass his view
Royal Quest Stop Melos failed!
Target is dead.
“What the hell?” Garon barked. “Who—”
“Anise.” Cecelia said, pointing upward.
The sky was turning red. Clouds like bloody clots grew and rose in front of the sun. “She killed him,” Cecelia whispered. “She killed him and took his place.”
“Aw shit!” Madeline said, as the castle shook, twisted. Spikes burst from the walls, bloody protrusions, and demonic sigils rippled and formed patterns in the walls. “This is BAD.”
“We didn’t level. We spent so many resources and we didn’t level to recharge any of it,” Kayin said. “How the hell are we supposed to deal with THIS?”
“No,” Threadbare said. “We don’t have to deal with this. We have to get to where she is, and stop this. Jericho?”
“I’m here.”
“Go to the labs; we’ll be right behind. Tell the dwarves to secure the way. Find a place full of flashing green light and guide us to it. Quickly!”
“On it! You heard the bear! Move, people!” Jericho waved, and the rangers faded out one by one, save for the last couple, who simply hopped down from the spiky wall and ran.
“Let’s go!�
� Threadbare said, riding fast after them.
“She pretty much almost annihilated us the last time we fought her,” Graves said, falling in behind him, riding a skeletal horse he’d gotten from somewhere. “How are we going to deal with her AND the Hand at the same time?”
“I’m working on that right now,” Threadbare told him.
“And what of us, Lord?” said one of the teddy bears, as the golem army fell in behind him.
“I have part of a plan,” Threadbare said, mopping the makeup from his face. “Once we get down there I’ll need every one of you to get naked...”
CHAPTER 15: INFERNAL RECKONING
The castle groaned under the weight of demonflesh, spikes protruding from the walls and buzzing swarms of flies and stranger insects seeping forth from gore-dripping holes between the cracks. It was strongest down here in the labs, and the allies fought with all their might against the twisted things that lunged at them out of the darkness.
But the rangers had spent years honing their craft; the dwarves were sturdy and unimpressed, and the golems ran interference for Threadbare and his friends with all the fanaticism that a former-fish-cult-turned-immortal-warriors could bring to the matter. Bleeding and spiky walls? Unspeakable horrors? Pfft, wasn’t a big deal. The worst they could do was KILL you, and eh, they’d been through that already.
“We’re here,” Garon said from ahead, and Threadbare and Cecelia moved through the shattered doors, It was an open laboratory, with a curtain of green light shifting back and forth inside a doorless cabinet.
“Looks kind a’ like a wardrobe,” Jarrik said, hands flickering nervously as he checked each pistol in his harness.
“Well, we know theah’s a witch inside.” Madeline said. “Not too shoah about a lion, though.”
“Give me time,” interrupted one of the plush toys, brushing his mane back, and the group shared a nervous chuckle.
“Is everyone ready?” Threadbare asked, dismounting from Pulsivar. The big cat nudged at him, but Zuula hopped down from Mordecai’s arms and snarled in his own language. Pulsivar moved back to Mopsy, sulking. “Everyone healed up?” Melos’ entropic effect had worn off a few minutes back, thankfully. Healing worked again. They would have been pretty bad off if it hadn’t.
“Ready!” Chorused every teddy bear in the group. Like Threadbare, they’d stripped down to their fur, leaving their gear in piles outside the doorway. All save for Missus Fluffbear, who had a different task entirely.
“Right,” Madeline said, positioning herself next to the wardrobe. “Glub, give us a song. Fluffbeah, do the clarity.”
“Clarifying Song! Whoa oh. Gonna keep it going long, whoa-oh...”
“Aura of Clarity!”
With her sanity regeneration bolstered, Madeline started handing out Endure Fire spells.
Threadbare nodded. “I suppose it’s my turn. This is your King’s Quest. Kill all the daemons.”
“Kill all the daemons!” roared the golems.
“And I’ll Organize Minions even though that’s not a nice name for you, so I’m sorry.”
“We don’t mind being minions!” roared the golems.
“You’re really my friends, to be honest, it’s just the name of the skill.”
“We love being your friends!” roared the golems.
Threadbare smiled and picked up the bag full of soulstones left over from the Brokeshale battle. “Remember! If she shatters your stone, find the bag! Nobody dies permanently!”
Garon interrupted before they could cheer. “All right! Party captains, like we rehearsed... Do the Job! Fight the Battles!”
Their roars shook the ceiling. As did those of the dwarves. The rangers, at least, were a little more quiet.
Threadbare turned back to his friends...
And stopped, staring at a dreadlocked green teddy bear with tusks. “Um...”
“Beast shape not work way Zuula think it do,” the shaman told him. “It be fine.”
“Got the fahst wave done,” Madeline said, resting and regaining her sanity. “I’ll be in with the last. If you kill Anise quick I don’t mind.” Threadbare handed her her laurels, and she grinned. “Thanks.”
“You saved me family, Mister Bear.” Mordecai told him, kneeling down. “And Celia girl saved me. We’ll back yer up. Just survive, remember what I taught yer.”
“I’m looking forward to the rematch,” Graves said, locking his visor in place. His new dwarven helm completely covered his mouth, but they got the gist of his muffled words.
“Bitch is going down,” Kayin drew her thumb across her throat. “And I’m not desu to say that.”
“It’s smiting time!” Missus Fluffbear squeaked, bouncing up and down on Mopsy.
Glub just kept singing his song, but he shot them a thumbs up.
“Yeah, let’s go fuck her up,” Beryl grinned wide. “I owe her some pain.”
Pulsivar just slurped his crotch. It seemed like as good a time to groom as any.
Emmet offered a hand. Threadbare shook it. “We will fight well, just as we were made to do,” his big brother rumbled.
“He’s not wrong. One more fight, Threadbare.” Garon hugged Threadbare and got a hug right back. “We’ve got this. Now let’s go Raid!”
And so, the first wave of teddy bears charged through into the green-lit darkness beyond. “Camouflage,” Threadbare whispered and followed them.
Your Camouflage skill is now level 14!
It was different from the raccant dungeon, Threadbare realized on the way in. The dark space between this world and the next wasn’t unbroken blackness. There were four green discs spinning, weird distorted, uneven things, that drew the eye—
—and then the world turned to fire.
But Madeline had buffed him before he went in, buffed him like everyone in this wave, and half of the damage simply evaporated. He didn’t burn; he merely smoldered, and then he was out and through the wall of fire and running faster.
“Command Golem! Destroy all golems!” he heard Anise shouting from ahead. The scrolls, of course. If he’d walked through the portal alone, she would have targeted him with it. But lost in a crowd of forty others who looked very much like him? She didn’t have the luck to hit him with it straight off the bat. Even if she had a way to see through his camouflage, which he doubted.
Anise was on his to-do list, but he had a few things before that. Threadbare looked around.
Black nothing, most of it, a floor that felt like stone but wasn’t. A wall of fire in front of the portal, blocking the way, burning with oily smoke. Green pillars, far more than had been in the raccants’ dungeon, some small, some large. And in the center of it, a throne, with an old man’s corpse on it, his eyesockets burnt out. His body was broken, many times over. As was the throne, the tinker-like gadgets on it and the pipes running from it shattered and sparking green energy. The pipes ran to pylons, columns of green light... and four of those held gems, he thought, glittering on their podiums. The rest held what looked like lumps of charcoal.
Bodies lay about the largest column. In it floated a handsome, nude man... The Lurker, Threadbare realized. His eyes were shut, and he had his hands clapped to his ears.
The rest of the Hand and Anise moved among the columns, battering down the teddy bears. Threadbare searched until he saw the Legion, flanked by a pair of enormous red dogs that breathed fire. He wasn’t calling in swarms, so Threadbare mentally crossed him off his list, for now. Limited pools meant that the summoning daemon wasn’t the immediate concern.
The blackness above flashed with green light, and Threadbare looked up and gasped. The sky was crammed full of numbers. Flickering, reeling drunkenly in long strings, like a woven tapestry of ones and zeroes and other digits... but this was a tapestry full of holes. Black spots writhed and danced among them, like slimes quivering and trying to engulf prey. And where the void touched the numbers broke and dissolved.
It looked wrong.
But enough was enough. Now that he had a se
nse of what he was up against, it was time to fulfill his part of the plan.
Threadbare dropped the pack of soulstones behind a column, rummaged in a pocket, and pulled out a vial of green reagent. “Ward against daemons!”
Error! Coordinates for Ward_0125123 not found!
The reagent didn’t flow into a ward, and Anise’s mocking laughter rose above the din of the battle. “Fool! This is far outside of what you think is reality! Wards don’t WORK here.”
Her voice was approaching, and Threadbare muttered “Camouflage,” before slipping back into the darkness, running for the nearest knot of teddies.
Not three seconds later she rounded the column, stared at the nearest bunch of teddies, and whipped a scroll out from her pocket. “Command Golem! Destroy all golems!”
The scroll turned to black ash, and she snarled. Then she leaped in among them, landing with her legs in a perfect split, hands flashing as she dealt out a flurry of furious fists. Her hands hit and tore, and two of the teddies died in a heartbeat.
And from the side, Threadbare crept closer, eyes fixed on the scrolls poking out of her pocket. This would be a risk, but...
“Firestarter,” he whispered, stretching out a paw.
Your Firestarter skill is now level 12!
At the sound, Anise slammed her hands into the ground and whipped her feet around, like a scythe cutting grain. Caught square on, Threadbare went flying back, out into the darkness. Anise backflipped to her feet, kicked the last couple of golems left, and looked around.
“There you are!” she said, striding right for Threadbare.
“I suppose I am,” he said. “Call Outfit.”
Your Call Outfit skill is now level 6!
His clothes materialized around him, and instantly, he felt much better.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” she said, reaching toward her pocket...
...and shrieking in surprise as her hand hit fire. With a look of disbelief she dug into her pocket, cursing, whipping out the wad of burning paper. “You worthless little toy!” she snarled, casting the ruined scrolls aside, as fire burned and arcane sparks flew off in all colors.
Threadbare Volume 3 Page 33
