Omnibus Volume 1

by C. M. Carney

  Tifala waved her hands in a wide arc like an avant-garde artist spraying paint. A shimmering green shield formed in front of the group just as Gryph sent a double size Flying Stalactite towards another of the deadly crystals. The crystal’s cooldown clock ended, and a bolt exploded forth, shattering the shard of rock into a cascade of stony rain. Shrapnel peppered the crystal leaving dozens of small fissures in the clear, smooth surface, but doing little actual damage.

  Another bolt blasted into Errat’s chest driving the warborn giant to one knee. Energy splayed over his body as he roared in pain, but he refused to let go of the rope. With one final wrenching tug the warborn’s muscles ripped the bolt free and the crystal splintered and exploded. Shimmering shards tinkled to the floor, falling around Errat like a halo of falling stars.

  “Two down! Four to go!” Gryph roared above the din. Ovyrm was taking aim with another imbued arrow while Wick’s hands charged up with another dose of chthonic energy. Myrthendir helped Errat to his feet, earning a nod of thanks from the giant man. Tifala was straining as she poured mana into her green life magic shield.

  The swarm of arachnids moved in front of Tifala on Errat’s silent order and several dozen shimmering fields of blue appeared before them. They stepped closer to each other, interlocking their shields like puzzle pieces, giving Tifala the time to down a mana potion. Wick and Ovyrm continued their assault on the lightning crystals

  Trusting that the others would protect their flank, Gryph, Errat and Myrthendir rushed towards the Dwellers. Gryph pulled his spear from his back, pumped mana into his boots and cast Animate Rope, on the length of empyrean spider silk at his waist. Three of the Dwellers guarding Barrendiel lined up in a defensive position in front of the fourth who started to cast. The ranger captain remained focused on the dais as if the battle raging about him was of no consequence.

  “We need to kill the caster and then get to Barrendiel!” Gryph yelled just as a lithe sword-wielding woman came at Gryph. She was quicker than a striking viper and the edge of her long sword arced at his neck. He activated Parry, barely blocking the blade with his spear.

  Gryph grunted with the unexpected effort and thrust forward with his spear. He activated Counter Attack and Impale, and powered up Penetrating Strike. Finally, he dumped one of the Icon’s charges into Yrriel’s Bite.

  It would have been a devastating blow, had it landed, but the strike bounced off the side of a hidden breastplate with a surge of sparks as the woman dropped low and spun away from the strike. She activated her own Counter Attack perk and Gryph felt her blade slice at the back of his calf. He grimaced in pain and fell to one knee

  Her spin took her back up to her feet as she danced away from a clumsily thrown punch. Gryph hadn’t expected it to hit, or do any damage, he was just trying to buy some separation to bring his spear to bear. Instead, she stabbed forward, her body arching like a deadly ballerina and the tip of her sword sunk into his shoulder.

  Gryph grunted, and he got his first good look at the mask hiding her face. The thin mouth morphed and flowed into a sinister grin below a pair of gill-like slits where a nose should have been. A shiver rushed through Gryph that had nothing to do with pain as the woman pulled her blade free and spun away. Hot blood gushed down his arm and his health bar dipped by 15%. He backed away, eying the Dweller warily. She stood, hip cocked and her sword resting lightly on her shoulder as if she were taunting him, daring him to come at her. Gryph took a moment to check his surroundings.

  To his left, Errat faced off against a massive man bearing a spike-covered mace and a tower shield. The warborn drove his double-bladed axe down with incredible force, but the large Dweller raised his shield. The blow barely seemed to faze the man, a surprise considering Errat’s formidable strength.

  To his right, the war hammer wielding dwarf came at Myrthendir faster than should have been possible for such a stocky man. Myrthendir sidestepped the thundering hammer which crushed the stone floor sending a shower of stone chips into its wielder’s face. They stuck in the flowing silver of the mask like shrapnel before the surface pulsed and forced the chips out where they fell to the ground like stone rain.

  A light laughter that would have been charming under other circumstances brought Gryph’s attention back to the woman. He gripped his spear with both hands and stared down its length at her as she swung her sword in tight, choreographed arcs.

  She feigned left and right all grace and calm. He kept the tip of his weapon between them and tried to predict her next move. She dipped to the right and Gryph snapped his spear forward letting the smooth shaft flow by his fingers, only grabbing the end at the last moment. His blade sliced into her arm and Gryph heard a low hiss from behind the mask.

  Her momentum spun her inside the range of his spear and she grabbed the shaft with her free hand and pulled. Gryph had not expected the move and despite the deep gash in her tricep she pulled him off his feet and he stumbled forward onto the point of her sword.

  He reacted on instinct and his Ring of Air Shield surged to life, deflecting the deadly sword thrust. Gryph lost his balance, whether from the surprise, the sudden rush of air from the ring or how close the sword point was to his eye, and he fell forward, his spear skittering across the floor towards the dais.

  The woman’s grin grew more macabre as she danced and leapt at him, sword point thrusting down. He rolled aside and sent his rope into the fray. Her sword point bit into the stone floor inches from his head as he continued his roll. She spun again, and the blade scythed towards his face. Gryph’s eyes closed, but no pain came. He opened his eyes and saw his trusty spider silk rope constricting the woman’s arm, arresting the near fatal strike. Then the rope flexed and tossed the woman ass over elbows and she landed with a heavy thump.

  I never thought I’d love a rope so much. Gryph rolled onto his feet, spear between him and the woman. His rope had twined around her waist, up her arm, and around her neck, pinning her sword arm to her side as the rope constricted.

  Gryph activated the rope’s Compel ability and instantly felt a surge of mental feedback laced with what sounded like laughter. He fell to one knee as the psychic punch seethed through him. Lucky for him the woman also crumbled and for a moment Gryph thought he felt confused terror push through the mental link. Then it was gone, and the rope fell from her arm, no longer animated or responding to commands. What the hell? It should have had more time.

  But Gryph did not have more time as the woman shook her head and launched herself at him like a whirling dervish of death. Gryph spun and twisted, dodging and parrying blow after blow, but the woman was faster than he, much faster, and he felt her blade slice into his side and the hilt crack him in the side of the head. Neither took over 10% of his total health, but he’d managed a whopping goose egg.

  Then she had friends.

  The two other Dwellers were circling around him as he faced off against the sword maiden. A quick glance revealed inky bands of dark energy entwined Errat. Myrthendir was hacking at them trying to free the warborn. The black ribbons trailed from them to the Dweller who’d spent the last several minutes casting. Dammit, I forgot about him.

  The good news was the caster seemed far too occupied sustaining his spell. The bad was that both of his allies were out of the fight, at least temporarily. He suspected that he would soon die, again. And I still haven’t found a new respawn point, stunned that the thought hadn't occurred to him. If he died here, he’d end up back in the Barrow, and any hope of stopping the Dwellers from taking the weapon would likely die with him.

  He Dodged a hammer blow only to walk straight into a slash from the sword-wielding Dweller. Gryph grunted as the blade bounced off his chest plate. Despite the pain and the further loss of health, Gryph suspected that his Light Armor skill had just saved his life. Yet he also knew that he could not afford too many more blows like that.

  He thrust his hand out and cast Water Blast, pushing the sword wielder backwards with a torrent of water. Gryph took aim at the cas
ter, knocking him off his feet. The bands of mystical power that held Errat and Myrthendir blinked and disappeared. Both launched themselves at the closest enemy, each step spraying froth.

  An idea came to Gryph, and he turned his Water Blast on the rest of the Dwellers. The damage done to his enemies was minimal and the space it provided him would not last, but that hadn’t been the point.

  Gryph took a moment to check the battle and saw Tifala and the others still battling the deadly lightning crystals. Only two remained, but over half of the arachnids had been turned to ash and wreckage. Both Wick and Ovyrm were still on the attack, scorch marks marring their armor.

  His eyes turned to Barrendiel working feverishly at the controls. He had unlocked seven of the remaining eight runes and despite being soaked from Gryph’s water spell his full focus was on the last rune lock. Gryph couldn’t understand why Barrendiel was doing this. The man had been passionate, but to murder the Regent and work to unleash the Dark Ascendancy upon the Realms once more, didn’t seem the ranger’s style.

  Then the last rune glowed a bright silver and a clank of metal, heard even above the din of battle, came to Gryph’s ears. Barrendiel held his hand over the seal and pressed down. Thirteen streams of magical energy spread down the face of the pillar through the dais and along engraved lines carved into the floor. When they hit the doors, the scrawls of magical power zipped up and around intricate carvings and slowly the doors opened.

  Not so fast fucker. Gryph brought his spear up high and then brought it crashing down onto the floor. As it connected Gryph activated Yrriel’s Maelstrom. Bolts of lightning exploded from the impact point and thrummed outwards. Each one packed a supercharged wallop.

  His fifteen levels of Air Magic mastery meant that the attack’s base damage was a staggering 150 points, but his decision to invest in the Item Power perk for the same skill meant his attack was an additional 25% more effective. Add in a bonus from the pools of water the Dwellers stood in and the damage from the attack knocked all five Dwellers to the ground.

  Gryph’s mouth twisted into a wicked grin as the screams of agony filled his ears, followed by the smell of charred flesh. His macabre glee disappeared as four of the five stirred. Only the dwarf who’d taken a lot of damage in his battle with Errat lay unmoving.

  Barrendiel was the first to his feet though he was moving slow and in obvious pain. One by one the others regained their feet. A green glow pulsed around the caster and then bounced like chain lightning from one to another.

  The green light healed most of the damage and they renewed their attacks. Three of them came at Gryph, but Errat came to his aid. Barrendiel returned to the controls. Gryph locked eyes with Myrthendir and yelled: “Stop him, we have the others.” Myrthendir nodded and turned towards his cousin.

  Errat raged against the large Dweller, his axe taking a deep bite out of the man’s kite shield. The warborn lashed out with his foot and the man tumbled onto his back. Errat raised his axe and a moment later the Dweller’s head rolled away from his body, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

  Myrthendir rushed his cousin who barely drew his sword before the elf lord’s staff came crashing down at him. The seal fell from Barrendiel’s hand and skittered across the floor. They exchanged blow for blow, neither one coming close to hitting the other.

  Under different circumstances, Gryph would have enjoyed watching these two combatants spar, but the sword maiden sent a quick stab at his kidney, putting a damper on the entertainment value of the show. He spun his spear, knocking the sword aside. He wasted no time and pressed the attack, stabbing forward with Counter Attack, and this time his spear found its mark, impaling the sword maiden through the heart.

  She slumped forward and the silver mask covering her face faded like smoke in a strong wind. Her eyes filled with surprise and something else, something quite unexpected, gratitude. “Thank you,” she said and then died. Shock and confusion hit Gryph in equal measure, but then a torrent of flames engulfed him, burning those thoughts from his mind and he screamed.

  You are on fire. 20 DMG/Sec until extinguished.

  His health burned away like the wick of a candle under time lapse. Gryph fell to his knees as the jet of flame flowed over him. His skin blistered and his ragged lupin shorn hair burst into flame. Then as quickly as it had started, it was over. His health bar blinked alarmingly and then the most awful scream he had ever heard ripped at his ears.

  Gryph quickly downed a pair of health potions and then stood, looking for the source of the scream, desperate that it was not one of his friends. Then his eyes found the caster, and he knew the reason behind the scream.

  Xeg had his mouth clamped around the casters hand. The imp was twice his normal size and Gryph knew why he was no longer burning. The imp absorbed fire and heat and somehow used it to grow larger. Now the imp was gnawing at the man’s hand like a rabid wolverine. The caster’s eyes had gone mad with fear and pain and Gryph felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Then the pain of his burns pushed through his initial shock and all kind thoughts were pushed from his mind.

  Xeg chomped down hard and wrenched his head back and the caster’s hand ripped away with a sickening tear. The man screamed again before the shock punched him in the brain and he fell unconscious. The imp roared in triumph and then ripped a finger from the detached hand and swallowed it whole like a pelican swallowing a fish. Gryph’s stomach churned, and he turned away from the disturbing sight.

  A furious onslaught from his masked cousin pushed Myrthendir back. The exchange of blows was marshal poetry to a trained warrior like Gryph, but then the Prince Regent stumbled on the corpse of the sword maiden and fell onto his back. The Dweller could have landed a killing blow, but instead swung his sword back-and-forth inches from Myrthendir’s retreating form, taunting the Prince Regent.

  Gryph knew the elf lord only had seconds before the Dweller got bored with his taunting games and he rushed Barrendiel with a roar. The Dweller spun and parried Gryph’s blow. The silver mask was inches from Gryph’s face and its visage grew more alien as barb-tipped arms spread outward from the edges of the thin mouth and scraped against Gryph’s cheeks.

  “Um, we have a problem here,” he heard Wick yell somewhere far off, but Gryph could not tear his focus away from the creature in front of him.

  He had faced many a terror in his life, but few things had ever unnerved him as much as the light caress of this alien fiend’s oral appendages. Behind the mask, he could hear the man laugh. “You still do not understand what is happening here, do you?” he whispered.

  Gryph’s skin, his very soul crawled in disgust and he needed to get away from this aberration. He activated Push Off and launched himself backwards, flipping once before landing lightly on his feet a half dozen feet away.

  The Dweller stood as several dozen of the arachnids who still survived arrayed themselves behind Barrendiel. It only took Gryph a moment to realize that the automatons were no longer friendly. Then they swarmed him.

  Gryph spun his spear like a fan of death and several of the swarm went down, but soon he was overwhelmed. An individual arachnid didn’t pack much of a wallop, but a dozen, two dozen were a different matter altogether. Gryph toppled back and tossed his hands over his face as the metal appendages of the spiders poked and prodded at him. His health trickled downwards.

  Then the world lit up with crimson and green light and the arachnids scattered. Gryph saw both gnomes sending volleys of chthonic and life magic into the swarm as Ovyrm helped him to his feet. Gryph nodded thanks and quick glances told him his friends were battered but alive.

  “I hate spiders,” Wick said in a spastic voice and Gryph gripped his small friend’s shoulder in thanks.

  Myrthendir stood, clutching the seal in his hand. He stood alone and bloody on the other side of a sea of swarming metallic legs. Behind him was the now open door to the Nexus, the control center for the whole city.

  Barrendiel stood in the eye of a storm of metal spiders, glaring at Gry
ph. Gryph took a moment to analyze the situation and locked eyes with Myrthendir. Then Myrthendir turned and ran through the door that led to the Nexus. En masse the swarm of arachnids turned and pursued the Prince Regent.

  A feeling of dread filled Gryph, but then Barrendiel rushed him, and the ranger’s arcing sword pushed all other concerns to the back of his mind. He danced away from Barrendiel’s deadly steel, clumsily batting the ranger’s blows aside until one landed and knocked the player off his feet.