by C. M. Carney
Zelyanna, the tall regal and feisty sea elf had been next. She was not built for the under realm and her mind and her spirit had declined within days of being sealed in the Barrow. She claimed to hear voices and see things in the corner of her eyes that were never there when a full gaze was turned on them. Unknown to the rest of the group, she had decided to end her life instead of facing the daily horrors of the Barrow with no end in sight. Wick could still see her jump from the high ridge and into the raging waters of the river that moved through the Barrow.
Thaardik had felt most at home inside the Barrow until the voice of his god faded. There was something about the Barrow that interfered with his daily prayers and it got worse each day. Eventually Thaardik could hear his god no longer and desperate to return to him, he snuck away in the middle of the night and ambushed a camp of wyrmynn alone. The next day when Wick found his body. It lay in the middle of a dozen of the cretinous lizard folk. He had gone out fighting.
It was poor Jebbis that he was most guilty about. Perhaps because he had no idea what had happened to his jovial cousin. They had been mapping a new part of the Barrow when a deadfall trap separated the two. His cousin had been calm, even joking about their situation. Even as Wick promised to find Jebbis, part of him knew he would never see his kin again.
Wick wiped away an unbidden tear and clutched his staff in anger. The black, gnarled wood of the staff held incredible power, but it made Tifala, a master of the nature side of life magic, nervous, even though she never said so. So lost in his own guilt was Wick that the sudden sulfurous appearance of Xeg nearly made him fall from his rocky perch.
“Run, blue-haired midget. Things come. Lotsa things.” Xeg said and ran, not bothering to wait for Wick.
34
A slap to the face dragged Gryph back from the peace of nothingness. He struggled to focus and finally the kind face of Tifala came into view. “Hi,” he said like a drunken man grinning at a friend.
“Yes. Hi. Time to get up, sweetie. Now. This should help.” Tifala cast a spell and the sounds around Gryph came into sharp focus as the fog in his head cleared.
Ovrym handed Gryph his spear and nodded, a grim smile crossing his face. “It's good to see you, but the wyrmynn have found us,” Ovrym said. Gryph nodded and stood.
“Ready?” Ovrym asked.
“Yes,” Gryph said and Ovrym opened the doorway. Outside the sound of yelling and clashing weapons rang. The two warriors were calm and controlled. An outsider would likely believe that these two men had fought alongside each other for years. A true testament to both of their training.
You have been invited to join a War Party by Ovyrm.
Gryph agreed and was greeted by a buff.
Buff added. You have been granted Adjudicator's Boon. Health, Stamina and Mana regeneration are increased by 25% for the duration of the battle or until Ovyrm is killed.
Wick stood behind a rocky outcropping firing volley after volley of oily black energy bolts at a large cadre of wyrmynn. Most missed, as the lizard folk were not dumb enough to give him an easy target. Several reptilian bodies lay in the space between them. Victims of his surprise attack. A trickle of blood leaked down his face. The arrows zipping over his head told Gryph that at least one had grazed his diminutive friend.
Ovrym leapt over the boulder shielding Wick and spun into battle. His red and black metal blade flashed from its scabbard and sliced cleanly through the neck of the closest wyrmynn, a look of stupid shock still on its face as the head bounced to a stop at Gryph's feet.
Gryph quickly assessed the force arrayed against them. They had chosen their defensive spot well, which told Gryph that their commander was no fool. There was at least a dozen of the scaly beasts. A quick use of his Analyze skill told him that they were mostly scouts and skirmishers, ranging from levels six to ten. Yet it was the two robed wyrmynn in the far back, chanting and mumbling that drew his eye. Gryph Analyzed them. One was a [Wyrmynn Death Priest; Level 12] and the other was a [Wyrmynn Chthonic Mage; Level 13].
Gryph cast Animate Rope, and it slithered towards the mage. He had seen the horrors that Wick could summon, and he had no interest in seeing if this lizard could repeat the trick. To buy his animated minion some time he also kicked the head at his feet. The head soared over the line of wyrmynn and smacked the mage in the face, disrupting his casting. Gryph grinned, pleased that he still possessed his skills despite not having seen a soccer pitch since his West Point days.
Ovrym nodded in appreciation at the successful distraction and barreled into the first line of defenders, a spinning blur that made Gryph think of a Whirling Dervish. Green blood and screams of pain splashed across the tunnel.
“You okay?” Gryph said to Wick as he neared his friend.
“I am,” Wick said, grunting through the pain of the deep cut on his head. “You?”
“Your woman is a miracle worker.”
“That she is,” Wick smiled.
On cue Tifala leapt over them, flipping and landing with the grace of a cat. She brought her small green bladed sword point down into the hard-packed earth of the floor and shouted a word of command.
A rumble surged from the point of her sword and an array of vines exploded from the ground. They slithered and spun at the first line of wyrmynn attackers and twined around ankles and legs. They screamed in alarm at the sudden lack of movement, but barked orders from their commander brought their discipline back. Several unleashed arrows. Most missed, but Gryph took one in the arm.
Debuff Added: You have been poisoned. 5 points of damage a second for 10 seconds.
“Their weapons are poisoned,” Gryph yelled as he finished casting Flying Stalactite. The missile of rock took the nearest wyrmynn in the eye. Gryph earned a Critical Hit, and the wyrmynn collapsed, the body held upright by the twining vines.
Ovyrm spun several more times, both inflicting and avoiding wounds. The man’s Dexterity must be off the charts. Wick sent several more bolts of oily energy into the crowd of saurians, earning many a satisfying grunt of pain.
“Wick, can you summon that demon?” Gryph yelled.
The gnome shook his head no and gave him a look that screamed ‘you don't think I thought of that already.’ Gryph was both relieved and disappointed. Avernerius could have made quick work of these wyrmynn, but Gryph had never seen few more terrifying sights in his life.
The death priest finished casting and an aura of deepest black exploded from him and roiled like incoming surf. It flowed over everyone. As it touched Gryph, he instantly felt sick. His head spun, his stomach hurled and sweat poured from him.
Debuff: You have been stricken with Corpse Rot.
-5 to Constitution, Dexterity and Strength while infected.
Gryph collapsed to the floor and vomited a thin stream of bile and drool. He felt as weak as he had when the flu had kept him in bed for a week as a child. A quick glance showed that the others were suffering as well.
The wyrmynn commander ordered his second line of troops, those that had avoided Tifala’s vine attack, into battle. They leapt over their kin and brought sword and spear to bear on Ovyrm and Gryph.
Ovrym parried several attacks before a spear took him in the side, and he fell to one knee. Wick sent a volley of chthonic blasts into the face of the two lizards about to slay the injured xydai. Both went down.
“Cover Tifala,” Wick yelled as he leapt from cover to stand next to Gryph. He could hear Tifala’s melodic chanting behind him. He did not know what she was casting, but he was determined to buy her the time.
Several wyrmynn rushed them, and Gryph knew in their weakened state they would be quickly overwhelmed. Ovrym’s health and stamina were dwindling fast as the front-line warrior fought off attacks from several wyrmynn.
“Close your eyes,” Gryph yelled and pushed mana into his armor and just as a wyrmynn was raising his sword to remove his head. In one of the most difficult mental acts of his life, Gryph forced his mind to ignore the incoming shard of death and squeezed hi
s eyes shut. He activated the chest plate, and the world exploded with light.
Hisses of pain pulsed through the cavern as the blast of life energy not only blinded the subterranean creatures but pummeled them with damage. Simultaneously, Gryph and all the members of his team were both healed and rejuvenated. It was not enough to remove any of the debuffs, but it gave them a surge of life and power.
As the light faded, Gryph saw his entire team leap back into action. Wick tossed volley after volley of bolts into the blinded wyrmynn. Ovrym spun and swirled. Most important of all Tifala finished her casting.
A wave of flowing golden light flowed from Tifala’s body. As the blessing crested over Gryph, he instantly felt better and was even more thrilled to see his debuffs disappear. However, they had done their work well and his health bar sat at barely 50%. He took a moment to down a health potion and his health popped back up to near 80%. Not perfect, but good enough for now.
The flowing wave of life magic poured over the wyrmynn, and they howled. Their skin blistered and charred as if ten hours of sun exposure pummeled them all at once. Several of the lead wyrmynn, those who’d faced the brunt of the attacks died instantly. The wave moved on and it passed over the wyrmynn commander who stood unmoving as his skin crisped. His eyes bored into Gryph’s as a snarl crossed his face, pulling the jagged white scar that bisected his face taught.
Gryph cast Flying Stalactite at the beast's face. His aim was true, but at the last second the beast raised his shield and the shard of rock stopped short. The beast grinned, and Gryph realized the staring match had been a distraction. Scarface had distracted Gryph enough to allow the chthonic mage to complete his chanting.
A rift to another place opened, and Gryph’s eyes went wide in fear. It was the same place that Wick had summoned the demon in their last battle against the wyrmynn, and Gryph knew that this time there was no chance that he would be marked as a friendly. Too late to stop this casting, Gryph’s rope entwined the mage. At least he’ll be out of commission for a while.
A massive wolf the color of cooling magma leapt from the portal and sprinted directly towards Ovrym. The Adjudicator bled from a half-dozen small wounds and was unaware of the approaching hell hound.
Hell Hound - Level 19
Hell hounds are a demon’s best friend. These massive canines are the literal guard dogs of hell. Ferocious carnivores who love feasting on mortal flesh.
Strengths: Unknown. Immunities: Unknown. Weakness: Unknown.
The beast ran through Tifala’s field of light, grimacing as its fur singed. Gryph sprinted towards Ovyrm and leapt over the quick warrior, pumping mana into his spear and activating Banish. The spear plunged into the beast’s side and both it and Gryph toppled heavily to the ground.
The life energy erupting from his spear caused the hell hound to howl in pain and it shimmered. Gryph’s held his breath in hope. Please work, please work, please work, he begged. The beast shook its head as it phased in and out of this realm and finally with a deep growl of primal hatred it became solid once again.
“Shit,” Gryph said, yanking the spear from the beast’s side. Banish may have failed, but the spear strike had done massive damage and, better yet, prevented the monstrosities rabid jaws from crushing down on Ovrym’s neck.
“Thanks,” Ovyrm said as he went back to back with Gryph. They were surrounded and cut off from their friends. Wick was tossed aside by a club swing from a skirmisher and lay pinned away from the others. Tifala was, if possible, even worse off. While she was unhurt, she was the furthest away from the rest of them and face to face with both the death priest and Scarface. In a small miracle, Gryph’s rope still entangled the mage.
The hell hound got back to its feet and charged Ovrym and Gryph again. Gryph snapped his right hand up and activated his ring. A bubble of solid air exploded just in time to push the bear sized dog back, but Gryph could tell that it had caused significant damage to the shield’s integrity. It could take one, maybe two more hits like that.
Surprisingly, Ovyrm sat down in the middle of the sphere of calm and closed his eyes. Gryph was about to ask the nimble warrior what the hell he was up to when he heard a low chanting coming from the xydai.
“Make it a good one, buddy,” Gryph muttered as he sent a volley of throwing knives through the barrier accentuated by the power of his bracers. They bit into demon dog flesh and with a twist and a tear Gryph summoned them back to him. The beast howled, but its health bar barely moved. It lunged at the barrier again stealing more of the shield’s dwindling power.
Ovrym finished his casting. He hadn’t moved and his eyes were still closed, but Gryph knew his spell had been successful, because one of the larger wyrmynn skirmishers turned towards one its fellows and swung its two-handed sword in a wide arc, separating the shocked wyrmynn’s head before it could wonder what the hell just happened.
Watching the lizard slay his fellows brought a smile to Gryph’s face and then something better. His eyes snapped over to the chthonic mage to see that while he struggled, he was still wrapped tightly by Gryph’s spider silk rope. Gryph decided that if he ever met one of the mysterious spiders, he’d have to give it thanks. The Realms are a very weird place, he thought, and he reached out to the rope and activated its Compel ability.
Gryph felt his thoughts meld with those of the wyrmynn mage and made a vow to never, ever do so again. The beast’s mind was a fetid swamp of hatred and pain. This creature enjoyed torture and murder the way perpetually single women loved walks on the beach.
“Send it back,” Gryph commanded through the mind meld. The mage resisted, but Gryph could tell it was a strain. “Send it back,” Gryph commanded again. The mage snapped his eyes onto Gryph’s and grinned as it used its powerful willpower to resist him.
The hell hound pummeled against the air shield again and it shimmered with its last bit of strength. Ovyrm turned his possessed wyrmynn against the fiery wolf and was rewarded with a significant hit. The hound collapse and raged in pain. It turned and launched itself with vicious speed at the traitor lizard. It jaws sunk into the wyrmynn’s neck and it belched a torrent of flame outward. The possessed wyrmynn screamed for a few seconds before the hellish flames charred its face and it collapsed.
Gryph’s battle to compel the mage was not going well, and he was running out of time. He changed tactics. Perhaps he could not force the mage to banish the creature but there were other ways to tame the beast.
“What is its true name?” Gryph commanded through the link.
The wyrmynn’s eyes went wide as it tried to battle the command, but this ability of the empyrean silk rope was far harder to resist than direct mind control. A guttural and harsh sentence of horrid syllables flowed into Gryph’s mind.
He turned to the hell hound and began the litany of words that comprised the beast’s true name. As each word erupted from Gryph’s tortured throat like vomit, the beast grew more furious. It bashed its head and forelimbs against the air shield, finally reducing its power to zero.
The beast prepared to leap, just as Gryph finished saying it true name. It spasmed, trying to resist, but Gryph’s will was a vice grip that the foul creature could not escape. A moment later, the battle was over, and the hell hound lowered its head.
“Kill,” Gryph ordered, sending a mental image of the death priest and the chthonic mage into the hell hound’s brain. The two-ton creature spun with a grace an animal so large should not have possessed and charged its one-time master.
Gryph did not waste time watching his new pet’s slaughter. He and Ovrym were still surrounded by angry wyrmynn. Ovrym spun up and about, his blade slicing through limbs and necks with ease and grace.
A wyrmynn landed a hit to Gryph’s shoulder, but he activated Parry and blocked the attack. Gryph dipped, spun and plunged the spear up and into the wyrmynn’s neck, scoring a Critical Hit and killing the beast instantly.
Gryph spun again to discover he had no enemies to face. Then he saw why. While the hellhound had distr
acted them, Scarface and his minions had surrounded Tifala. She had taken out several as evidenced by the wyrmynn corpses at her feet, but a massive blow from the flat of Scarface’s blade knocked her unconscious.
“No,” came a scream, and Gryph spun to see Wick, pinned down by several more of the saurians, frantically trying to reach his woman. The diminutive gnome was so focused on the plight of his love that he failed to see the wyrmynn strike coming at him. The blade took Wick in the side, and he fell out of sight.
Gryph shot his arm forward and cast Flying Stalactite as the wyrmynn drew his sword over Wick’s head for a killing blow. The jagged rock spear caught the beast in the throat and the life left his eyes instantly.
“Ovyrm, to Wick,” Gryph commanded as he spun and ran towards Tifala and her captors. He sent a quick glance towards the hell hound to see it tear off its one-time master’s left arm. The mage fell, screaming, and the hell hound turned its attention to the death priest.
But the other magic user had not stood idle and a lance of black energy tore from the priest’s outstretched hands and impaled the fiery canine as it lunged. Gryph’s hellacious minion’s own weight carried it further down onto the spear of death. In a flash of red-black light, the hell hound disappeared.
Gryph turned back to Tifala’s captors. They had her bound and one skirmisher tossed her up on its shoulder. Scarface pointed directly at Gryph and said attack in its putrid tongue. Then he turned around and disappeared into the tunnel with Tifala.
The remaining four wyrmynn rushed at Gryph. He sidestepped the first attack and activated his Counter Attack perk, dipping low and dragging the blade of his spear along the creature’s hamstring. It toppled to the floor.
