He found the usual assortment of ingredients, Health Potions, Town Portal Scrolls, weapons, and armor on the woman and the olm. In addition to these, the woman was carrying a Blade of the Sun’s Reflected Radiance, a shining katana set with a Cracked Sunstone and imbued with the Divine power of +2 Damage to Infernal creatures. Roark thanked fate that he’d managed to avoid taking any hits from the blade in their first skirmish while she had been wielding it. Because of its Divine alignment, neither he nor Kaz could use the katana, but it would bring a decent price from that swindler Variok when they returned to the marketplace. The extra gold would help when Roark tried his hand at Enchanting—the required gemstones wouldn’t come cheap.
The true prize, however, came when Roark reached the scrolls in the olm’s Inventory. Mixed in with the Town Portals was a single-use Scroll of Champion Strength.
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Scroll of Champion Strength
Temporarily increases Strength of caster by 2x Character Level
Heals caster for 50 Health
Duration: 30 seconds
Uses: 1
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That could come in very handy. He slipped the scroll into his Inventory and checked his Spell Slot countdown timers. One had already run out. The last had only seconds remaining.
Roark turned to Kaz. The Thursr’s huge chest had stopped expanding and contracting with such force, but he was staring at Roark with pure terror.
“Roark will die!” he blurted. Fat tears dripped from Kaz’s onyx eyes and his antlered headdress shook with the force of his outburst. “No respawn! If Roark issues a direct challenge to the Overseer and loses, he will forever-die! Kaz has never had a friend before Roark! Please don’t do this! Don’t kill Kaz’s only friend!”
Suddenly very conscious of how strange it was to feel the breath being pulled in and forced out of his own tiny birdlike chest, Roark grimaced up at the ceiling and scratched the back of his neck. He’d never been good with sincerity that wasn’t rooted in defeating the Tyrant King or taking out key henchmen for the cause. He was even worse at friendships. The closest he’d come over the years were allies within the Resistance, and those always seemed to end up in one of Marek’s prisons screaming for death. It was easier to stomach seeing their ruined corpses swinging from trees on town greens if he kept them at arm’s length. That lesson he had learned from the golden-haired thief Danella as well, though she’d had to die to teach it.
“I don’t plan on losing, Kaz,” Roark said after a time. “In fact, I’m going to do everything within my power to win. I’ll throw every dirty, underhanded trick I know at him. Hit him with everything I’ve got. But if it’s not enough, and I do die”—he shrugged—“then that’s the price. I won’t live a coward in comfort, hiding away while people are being crushed under the heel of a bloody tyrant. Especially not a two-bit lackey with grand delusions of control like Ugoraz. If you’re coming with me, choose your weapon and prepare for a fight. I’m going as soon as I inscribe these spells.”
TWENTY:
Formal Challenge
After some playing around with the wording, Roark managed to inscribe four Level 1 spells and two Level 2 spells he thought would at least put him on equal footing with the Floor Overseer. Ugoraz was a Level 12 Brute Thursr with all the strength and speed that implied, but he didn’t have access to the Infernal Magick a Reaver or Jotnar would. If things became truly desperate, Roark had his claws and the Kaiken Dagger for carving cantrips into his flesh, as well as an underhanded little surprise he could fall back on just in case.
Never fight fair, he thought.
With the spells inscribed, Roark put on his oiled leather armor, stashed the surprise in one of the breast pouches, and equipped the Maple Wand and Slender Rapier of the Falcon. He glanced at Kaz, who was decked out in full wooden O-Rogiri armor and carrying a Hook Sword in each fist. A formidable looking opponent, to be sure.
“Let’s go end a regime,” Roark said with a grin, trying to affect a glib tone and failing.
Kaz’s lips trembled and his eyes widened, but the softhearted Thursr managed not to burst into tears again. Instead he simply nodded, face scrunching up in resolution. Roark turned on his heel and led the way out of the Stone Salamander nest. He’d intended to leave Macaroni behind, but the bloodthirsty little beast followed along beside him in plain sight as if to lend his fearsome image to the cause.
In spite of the 6% Muffling Bonus, Kaz’s boxy armor clacked and clinked down the stone corridor like the wooden chimes Lyuko travelers hung from their wagons. Even Roark’s own soft bootsteps sounded unnaturally loud in his ears.
Just nerves. But this had to be done, he reminded himself. He had to kill Ugoraz the Vile if he wanted to take over the floor and whip this citadel into fighting shape. It was the first step toward becoming powerful enough to open a portal home and take down Marek. Moreover, it was the first step toward freeing Trolls like Kaz from their wretched existence as cannon fodder for raiders.
They marched down the rough stone corridors, taking turn after turn, until they rounded the final corner, and the throne room’s iron portcullis came into view. This time Kaz was able to operate the lever despite his viciously trembling hands. Roark straightened his spine as much as a Changeling spine could straighten, squared his uneven shoulders, and raised his chin, pasting a haughty expression on his face. He was a noble, a revolutionary, and he would not be intimidated by a thug like Ugoraz. With a screech, the portcullis rose, and every eye in the throne room turned to the diminutive, bird-chested figure striding across the flagstones as if he owned them.
Ugoraz the Vile sat forward on his twisted obsidian throne, scowling. His black glare leapt from Roark to Macaroni to Kaz, who was now a Level 5 Thursr, capable of rivaling any of the cronies Ugoraz had stationed around the room.
“Somebody’s been busy,” the Overseer sneered, lips curling back to reveal wicked teeth. “We ain’t seen no heroes this far into the citadel in a flea’s age. Guess now we know where they been goin’.” His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.
“I’ve come to challenge you for the position of Floor Overseer,” Roark said, raising his rapier in invitation.
The Brute threw back his fat head and cackled, the sound echoing off the walls like a rockslide.
“With that little needle? It’ll take more’n a stolen pretty to kill me, flea.” Ugoraz hefted himself from his throne with a groan and stomped down from the dais, the floor trembling slightly at his passing. “I’m goin’ to rip your head off and mount it on a spike with the rest of my collection. Make it an even fourteen.”
Roark forced a cold grin. “I’m going to toss your head out with the trash so it won’t stink up my throne room.”
A page full of text appeared before Roark’s eyes. His heart thundered at suddenly losing sight of his enemy at the critical moment, and he frantically tried to close the book, but it wouldn’t obey. After a few seconds of panic, Roark realized Ugoraz wasn’t taking the opportunity to attack while he was blind. Wary of a trap, he hurried to read through the stubborn notice.
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Getting a Head in Life
You have challenged Ugoraz the Vile for the position of First Floor Overseer!
Objective: Kill Ugoraz the Vile in single combat.
Reward: Become the new First Floor Overseer; command and deploy First Floor mobs; create and alter Level One floor map; 1,000 Experience
Failure: Die at the hand of Ugoraz the Vile in single combat.
Penalty: No respawn.
Restrictions: No assistance; no Health Vials may be used.
Accept Quest? Yes/No
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The terms of the duel, it seemed.
Taking a steadying breath, Roark accepted the quest. The box disappeared and Ugoraz launched himself across the floor at Roark. Cursing himself for being caught off guard, Roark backpedaled. He was too slow. A massive left hand with meat-hook claws slammed
into the side of his face, ripping his ear and jaw to shreds, and taking a chunk of his Health with it. A right hand followed, and already the left was wheeling back around for another strike.
The shock melted away in a flood of adrenaline, and Roark realized that Ugoraz was executing a modified passato with mandritto and squalembrato cuts. Excellent for backing an opponent into a corner for the kill. It had a flaw, however: too much of a commitment of momentum for such a large body at such a high speed could end in disaster.
By the grace of Dexterity points alone, Roark sidestepped the next swing and let the Brute go barreling past him. The rapier whispered through the air, scoring a deep notch in Ugoraz’s side, blood drooling down.
A sliver of the Overseer’s red Health bar disappeared.
Well, he’d come into this knowing it wasn’t going to be easy. Time to bring out the loaded dice.
Roark touched the tip of the Maple Wand to his leather-clad chest, casting a Level One Immunity on himself.
[Target is unaffected by sucking mud for thirty seconds.]
Ugoraz spun his huge bulk around and charged Roark again, head down like a water bison rampaging across the grassy steppes of distant Kurikanai. Roark tapped the wand on the floor, firing off the second spell in a flash of green-brown light.
[A pit of sucking mud with a radius of fifteen feet and depth of two feet opens in the floor for thirty seconds.]
When he’d written it, his Initiate’s Spell Book had declared that the spell would mire creatures Level 1-6 in the mud for the duration, and slow creatures Level 7-12 by 25%, but Ugoraz still seemed to be moving at a fair pace toward Roark. Fetid, mossy brown mud splashed up into great rooster tails in the Brute’s wake as he lunged.
Roark danced across the sucking mud as if it were still solid stone and cast his first Level Two spell on himself, increasing his speed by 30%. The mud pit’s sudden appearance in the middle of the throne room had surprised Ugoraz, but the Brute was quickly regaining his bearings. The Overseer shot forward; wind whistled by Roark’s ear as a huge fist nearly took off his head in passing.
Determined not to miss his opportunity while inside Ugoraz’s measure, Roark ducked and dodged the meaty fists flashing at his face and tapped the Brute’s flabby arm with the Maple Wand, casting his other Level Two spell, Slow Opponent. He darted outside Ugoraz’s reach, carving another notch along the Overseer’s heaving, mud-splattered side with the rapier. Another pitifully small portion of the Brute’s Health disappeared.
For the moment, the Level 12 and Level 6 were matched at equal speed.
Roark darted in. This would be his only chance to use the rapier effectively. Once the spells wore off, Ugoraz would have the speed advantage once more.
The Overseer roared in fury, swinging a massive hammer fist at Roark’s head. Roark lashed out with the rapier, slicing the incoming hand mezzo tempo as if it were Ugoraz’s sword arm, then pulled his body out of line to whip a quick riverso tondo across the back of the Brute’s thigh.
Roark expected Ugoraz to twist in the mud trying to follow him, but the Overseer let his momentum carry his huge body around the opposite direction. His flabby arm dipped down as he spun, and he launched it at Roark’s face. Roark managed to snap his eyes shut before the rancid mud splattered into them, but he couldn’t afford to keep them closed. He dragged a leather sleeve across his face and blinked, but the wet muck ran off his eyelashes and into his eyes.
[You have been temporarily blinded! Vision decreased by 100% for (10) seconds.]
Damn it all, Roark cursed as he stabbed and slashed in the sinking muddy darkness. That was a bloody dirty, underhanded trick, and he should’ve thought of it first! He’d fallen into the trap of relying on magick when a handful of mud would’ve been just as effective. Worse yet, ten seconds would eat through nearly half his remaining movement bonus. Roark scrubbed desperately at his eyes, taking wide swings with his rapier dalla spalla, from the shoulder, both to fend Ugoraz off and to give himself some warning when the Brute was closing in.
For a moment, Roark thought he felt the resistance of flesh on the foil.
Then a sledgehammer of pain crushed his nose flat and sent him slapping across the mud pit like a skipping rock. Red drained from his Health vial, dropping him to three-quarters. The rapier was gone. He rolled onto his stomach, hands blindly raking the stinking mud in search of his blade.
A foot the size of a pumpkin slammed into Roark’s side, snapping ribs like dry reeds and driving the air from his lungs. He collapsed facedown in the muck, lungs bucking frantically, desperate for air that wouldn’t come. Health trickled away with every suffocating second that passed. Another enormous kick flipped him over, laying him flat on his back, half in half out of the sucking mud. His Health vial dipped below half.
Then suddenly Roark was lying on cold, uneven stone. The putrid mud pit was gone, taking the rancid stench of tidal swamp with it. The mud disappeared from his eyes, and the throne room came back into focus. From the corner of his eye, he saw Macaroni struggling madly in Kaz’s arms, snarling and trying to break free. The Thursr bearhugged the salamander around its fat-padded belly, holding the creature back through sheer force of will.
A vast shadow of flab and muscle stood over Roark, wide fists interlaced and slicing down through the air to smash his head.
In a blink, Roark cast Fireball at Ugoraz and threw himself into a roll. He didn’t see the spell land, but Roark heard the Brute roar as the double-fisted blow glanced off his right shoulder, deadening everything from Roark’s neck to his fingertips, and sucking away another measure of his Health.
As Roark stumbled to his feet, his lungs finally realized their mistake and dragged in a throat-scraping but gloriously sweet breath. The trickle of red lost to asphyxiation stopped. Roark’s boot hit against something, and metal clattered across the floor. The rapier. But he was down to less than half a vial of Health; another fist to the face would more than likely kill him. The rapier was out of the question, and he couldn’t afford the HP cost of casting the Spectral Hands spell he’d inscribed.
Ugoraz—obviously enjoying the return of his full speed—shot toward Roark like a diving raptor. Thinking quickly, Roark pointed the wand and cast his last ranged spell, a Level One Ball Lightning.
The Spell Book gave the odds of Ball Lightning knocking back the target as 25%. Ugoraz wasn’t thrown backward by the crackling ball of elemental force, but it did slam the Brute to a stop, his loud oof ringing off the walls of the throne room.
Roark ran, scooping up his dropped rapier just in case the Overseer got any ideas about using it. Just because Ugoraz had called it a little needle didn’t mean he would be opposed to sticking a few new holes in Roark with it.
As he ran, Roark stowed the blade, trading it out for the Bow of the Fleet-Fingered Hunter he’d taken in his second attack on PwnrBwner_007. Immediately, a quiver bounced against his back. He spun around to face the charging Brute and ripped a Shoddy Iron Arrow from the quiver with smooth, practiced ease. Drawing the bow was harder than he’d expected. He was low on Health and Strength, and like all the men in his family, he’d always preferred to hunt with the traditional spear. But the bow was the only ranged weapon he had left. He loosed the arrow. It thudded into Ugoraz’s chest, barely affecting his Health bar.
Fingers moving as fast as the drawing speed bonus of the enchanted bow would allow, Roark drew and let fly three more arrows in quick succession while stumbling backward. Two hit Ugoraz, one flew wide. Still the Brute’s Health bar hovered above three-quarters full. And still the enraged Overseer barreled at him, huge legs gaining ground faster than Roark’s tiny ones could put it between them.
Roark drew and fired one final time before Ugoraz hurtled into him. One huge paw closed around Roark’s throat. The other slammed into his Changeling potbelly. His Health vial plummeted below a tenth and began flashing critical.
The throne room listed at an insane angle as Ugoraz ripped Roark from his feet. For a heartbeat, he
was weightless, staring at the ceiling. Then the fist crushing his airway changed directions. Roark felt his arms and legs flapping around like a rag doll as his body screamed toward the stone floor and forever-death.
TWENTY-ONE:
Getting Ahead
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. With numb fingers, Roark fumbled in the breast pocket of his leather armor. He dug out the scroll and cast Champion Strength on himself.
A burst of brilliant light flared as the scroll disappeared, turning to ash in his hand. Health poured back into Roark’s filigreed vial, sending comforting warmth flowing through his veins and renewed vitality surging through his limbs. That heat and energy morphed, intensified, as his flesh filled with a strange bubbling sensation. In a blink, his scrawny Changeling body tripled in size, muscles swelling, and his Strength shot to that of a Level 12 Troll.
Held as he was in Ugoraz’s grasp, Roark was in a prime position to watch the Overseer’s ugly face twist with shock and outrage as the tiny sunken-chested, potbellied creature he’d been about to crush into paste grew into a musclebound beast. By the time Roark’s body slammed into the hard stone floor below, what should have been a crushing blow barely stunned him.
With only thirty seconds to kill the Overseer before the spell wore off, Roark launched into motion. He grabbed Ugoraz’s wrist and ripped the Brute’s paw away from his throat, twisting it until Ugoraz howled in pain and came up onto his claw-tipped toes, desperate to take the pressure off. With a jerk on the tortured arm, Roark pulled Ugoraz down and slammed his newly huge elbow into the Overseer’s porcine nose.
This time the Overseer’s red bar dropped by a sight more than a sliver.
Still, it wasn’t enough to end him before the time ran down. Roark let go of Ugoraz and pulled out his rapier and dagger, one weapon in each hand. The Strength spell affected the weapons as well, it seemed—the rapier was now as long and notched as a battle-scarred zweihander, and the dagger closer akin to a wicked short sword.
Rogue Dungeon Page 14
