A flood of wonder and power began flowing into the grove, and Val could sense their combined life force nurturing the grove once more.
An awed Val gazed into the ancient king’s eyes, understanding all too well that they risked oblivion itself, pouring their very souls into the casting. “Viturlund!”
The ancient dwarf flashed a tired smile, Val reading more than hearing his thoughts. “It no longer matters, Valor. We bonded with this grove for a thousand years. When the last sprout in here dies, so do we.” Val’s eyes widened with sudden understanding, realizing only then how perilous their situation truly was. “If the grove is so far gone that we become one with it, far better to live on, one with the fields and forests, one with the cycle of life once more, than broken remnants of a tribe enslaved and eventually butchered by the monsters above, my liege.” The king chuckled softly. “And if those fools above come in force at our most vulnerable moment? Good. The arcane forces will disable their mechs and blasters both, so fragile they are. It is what comes after that I truly fear, Valor. How horrid would it be to watch them destroy the heart of our home a second time.”
Trembling, Val shook his head. “It doesn’t end here, Viturlund. Not by a long shot. We finish this ritual and we take them down!”
You have accessed your Dominion Matrix!
You have embraced Phoebe’s Blessing upon Greater Druidic Restoration Ritual! You sense this ancient Rite is so perilous and the dwarven practitioners so weakened, that they risk their own demise with this spell, and you are absolutely right! Even with your boon, success is not assured. Critical success or failure are the only two paths available. But now the dying tribe only minutes away from being butchered by organized Dominion troops at least has a hope of success!
Assuming you can save them from an enemy seeking to cut them down, once and for all!
Congratulations! You have learned Greater Druidic Resurrection Ritual. This Level 70 spell breaks all the rules! It doesn’t just repair grievous injuries, it can actually bring a dying grove and all the sentient souls locked within back to life once more! Creation, Manipulation, and Transformation are all needed, as well as skill in Corpus, Earth, Herbam, Mentem, and Time! Cost to cast: Your life.
You already sense what this spell is capable of. Don’t even think about it, Val. Seriously.
Val wasted no time, guided by a sudden flash of insight as he let the spell take hold, finding his feet possessed of inhuman grace as he stepped between the suddenly crimson glowing runes at the very heart of the shattered grove, gazing with awe at the storm of brilliant arcane energies flooding the underground cavern in a swirling maelstrom of color, even as he met the eyes of the eldest druid who smiled into his own.
Both of them sensed without a word being said what needed to be done, if the grove and the two hundred remaining dwarves were to have any hope of survival.
Val clenched the perfect dagger made of ashwood and thorns that he was handed, slashing open his own wrist, and letting the thirsty ground drink his blood.
You have embraced the ritual! You have accepted the burden of sacrifice!
1 point of Vitality has been permanently spent!
You have cast Halcyon Restoration for 5 territory points!
And Val stumbled to his knees as the ground began to shake and tremble, his own will clamping tight on the massive chamber as the air itself howled with the memories of the shattered grove, and the dwarves who had died within.
And from the burnt husks and stumps of a thousand once proud trees, new sprouts spread wide their leaves and began to grow.
An awed Val trembled to see each and every dwarf that had perished to Dominion laser fire, so many innocent faces, crumble to rich loam before his eyes, their final expressions one of peace as vital young shoots sprouted where their hearts had once been.
And slowly, over endless moments, the beautiful song of magic echoing the ebb and flow of life faded from Val’s ears and eyes, each and every surviving dwarf quietly weeping, their heads bowed low. Yet Val felt a sense of calm, of solace as well. As if this ritual, successfully cast, symbolized by the freshly sprouting greenery where before there had been only ruin and death, was the first step to healing the terrible wounds each suffered in their hearts.
It was then that Val heard the clapping, the mocking laughter echoing throughout the massive cavern.
27
Val quickly caught sight of Inquisitor Dimitry and a full company of troopers making their way down the grand tunnel leading to the grove, a pair of battle-mechs leading the way.
“What a wonderful performance to see," Dimitry mocked. "Your eyes shining with such hope as you manage to sprout a few pathetic leaves on burnt husks we will be all too happy to reduce to ash once more, this time with your blood watering the ground!”
His cold smile grew. “We of the Dominion are not fools. No one knows the range of ritual magics. So why be present for them at all? But I can see from the exhaustion in your eyes that I am catching you at the worst possible moment. When you fools are all so drained you can hardly stand! How delightful.”
He turned his head. “The ritual is over. Hand me my blade, fool!”
Dimitry snapped his glove-covered fingers and Erion, his anxious-looking grandson, dashed around the corner only to trip over his own boots, the older inquisitor’s Psiblade and shield sent smacking into his grandfather’s skull.
Soft snickering could be heard by troops forming up just behind him, an entire contingent of men just behind the massive battle-mech now facing the grove, the high grating hum of activating autocannons piercing the air.
Dimitry snarled, the crackling hum of his Psiblade followed by short bloody screams could be heard as the inquisitor dashed beyond the massive feet of the closest battle-mech, cutting down a handful of soldiers in heartbeats.
Not a single soldier dared make a sound after that, Dimitry stomping back, smashing Erion to the ground.
“You stupid imbecile! You cannot even fetch and carry like a dog!” His boot cracked savagely into his gasping grandson’s ribs. “Get out, fool. Flee this cavern, flee this territory, flee my sight! I never want to see you again!”
The boy gazed up at the inquisitor with horrified eyes. “Grandfather!” he sobbed.
The crackling hum of a reactivated Psiblade sent the boy stumbling back in tears.
“You and your mother are dead to me. Never cross my sight again!” the man roared, his sobbing grandson scurrying to his feet, dashing past the swarm of soldiers nevertheless careful to make room to let the shamed boy pass, before forming up once more.
The inquisitor chuckled softly, turning around as if nothing had happened, facing the dwarves once more. “You all managed to free yourselves? How remarkable. I would ask how you managed the feat once I carefully secured you all once more, but do you know what? I don’t think I’m even going to bother.” His mocking smile instantly morphed into a hate-filled sneer. “You disgusting vermin were a plague upon this world until the Dominion finally put you in your place! Your clever magics were a thorn for centuries until we put your cities to the sword. But it seems even worms left to squirm in the soil can grow troublesome, finding their way free of witchbinder chains no human mage could break!”
He chuckled coldly. “But we are not fools. We know the limits of magic. Here by the entrance, we are well over fifty yards away from you abominations. It will be nothing to cut you down, claim the last of your crystals, and leave your ashes here to rot. It will only be a matter of time before the world above will have forgotten your filthy kind had ever existed!”
He flashed the dwarves a final cold sneer.
“Get into position and blast them out of existence!” Dimitry roared, the massive battle-mech autocannons now ready to cut through the mass of dwarves struggling to find the strength to pick themselves up after their perilous ritual.
The barest flicker of hope rekindled, to be callously snuffed out by a monster.
Val’s rage rekindled anew.
You have formed a full-sized Tier 3 gate leading to Terrance Province, accessible only to those you designate, large enough to allow passage of battle-mechs and freight haulers, completely blocking the passage beyond for 3 points. How convenient! 55 Territory points remaining!
Val flashed a bleak smile, gazing at the dagger of thorns and ashwood he still held in his hand as reflected blasterfire tore into the battle-mech that had fired, as well as the screaming troops just behind it.
Insight gained! This is the ritual dagger that was once used to accept the blood of supplicants and sacrifices! Feed the grove and watch it grow!
Greater Artifice skillcheck made! You intuitively understand the connection between blade and grove!
Val raised his gaze to meet the king’s, explaining his plan as quickly as he could.
The king bowed his head. “I understand.” He turned to gaze at the dozen standing druids, all of them nodding as one. “The blood you have gifted the grove with will fuel the transformation. All will be ready when you return.”
“Cease firing, you fools, you’ll kill us all!" Dimitry screamed. "A Contender is present! Retreat! We will smash through this hallway with proper reinforcements and butcher this vermin once and for all!
Val heard the inquisitor’s words with crystalline clarity, though he saw no trace of the soldiers now blocked by the gate he rapidly approached.
Then he jumped through.
Beholding the windswept plain that was Terrance Province, all but abandoned, save for discarded clothes and supplies near the gate, indicating that countless people had passed by recently.
Pulling up his Dominion Matrix, Val sensed the area virtually empty, save for the road to Newford some miles off, and a handful of farming communities more than happy to be ignored by whatever force had butchered their former owners.
Val gave a satisfied nod as he saw that which he most wanted to see, the gate leading right to the Wildlands, all but crackling with pent-up energies, so great was the differential between forces and fields separating those two regions.
He gazed for long moments at the vine-covered ruins revealed beyond, staring down the shambling horrors on the other side. The glowing eyes of whatever inhabited those living corpses skittered over his own as they plodded through the broken remains of a city already overgrown with lush jungle foliage. All was awash in hauntingly beautiful light that warped and distorted everything hidden within, like gazing into the sea.
Val felt a certain bleak satisfaction as he pulled up his Dominion Matrix, having every intention of spreading the infection that had claimed Dominicus Territory so utterly.
Your territory either adjoins or has a direct link to lands infected by Greater Mana Warping! Do you wish to purchase Greater Mana Warping for Terrance Province?
You have chosen Yes! 6 points spent! Terrance Province is now infected by Greater Mana Warping! 49 Territory points remain!
Warning: Horrors will spread between Warped territories unless appropriate measures are taken! Warning: Risk of significant mutations within local wildlife populations.
He flashed a cold smile as a storm of uncontrolled arcane energy poured through the gate, fields of wheat and grass swaying with an unseen breeze as waves of crackling power flooded the territory.
A nightmarish howl echoed strangely through air suddenly thick with deadliest potential, Val turning to gaze at what were suddenly dozens of horrors peering through the opened gate with hungry eyes, lurching forward as fast as their decrepit bodies could take them, the roars of sauropodian death-mechs not far behind.
You have successfully cast Greater Warding around both non-restricted gates leading to Wildlands! These Level 40 wards will protect against all supernatural foes of Level 45 or below!
Val didn't waste another moment, knowing those shambling horrors were Level 25 undead at best, and the remaining gates were far too narrow for the death-mechs to squeeze through, so his Level 40 Wards were beyond overkill, even if the Wildland gates were open to all travelers who dared them. Most importantly, no one not aligned to Val could get through the gates to Highblood or Falinnlund provinces, which he had deliberately restricted access to.
Within seconds, Val found himself back amongst the dwarves, the vast chamber echoing with the sounds of heavy machinery being used to cut the rock as Val’s enemies sought to break through and finish off his people once and for all.
The gazes of two hundred desperate dwarves met his own.
“It’s time,” Val said. “Are you ready?”
The king bowed his head. “We are.”
Your territory either adjoins or has a direct link to lands infected by Greater Mana Warping! Do you wish to purchase Greater Mana Warping for Falinnlund Province?
You have chosen Yes! 6 points spent! Falinnlund Province is now infected by Greater Mana Warping! 43 Territory points remain!
Val shuddered as he felt a wave of sweetest power wash over him, the Tier 3 gate before him bulging forth before flooding him and the land around him with hideous potency, filling his mind with darkest bliss and fury as chaotic energies saturated his soul.
He no longer held tight to bitter discipline. He no longer bothered choking back the horror of what he had seen.
Dimensional Rift accessed! Dwarven sword and armaments and inert Psiblade successfully stored! You have absorbed a Greater Regeneration Potion! You are naked, Val!
Val kneeled before the dwarves holding out raiments of oak and ash, tears running freely down his cheeks. His mind was flooded with the memory of so many dwarven faces once glimpsed in states of perfect joy and contentment, those heartbeats he had been but a spirit helping to revive the grove above, now forced to endure the memory of their agonizing deaths, witnessed anew in this grove below. Men and women, boys and girls.
All butchered by monsters.
Faces of girls on the cusp of womanhood.
So like Ava’s own.
Squeezing back the tears in his eyes, Val howled as his hands clasped a blade of bitter ash and thorn.
A shield of oak tightly gripped.
A helmet of yew placed upon his brow.
His body now encased in vestments of bark and hardwood, strapped together by vines soaked in pitch and blood.
As one, all of the surviving Dwarves stepped back and bowed.
The sound of massive engines of destruction had stopped with final screeches, whines and pops.
“Sir! The cutters are no longer working!”
“What are you talking about, fool? If your ineptitude broke them, I will take it out of your hide!”
“Sir! What’s that sound?”
And Val was through the gate in the heart of the grove, bursting into the former interrogation and torture room once more.
He forced his tormented eyes to gaze anew at blue-tinged corpses he had desperately avoided looking at before, a dozen Dominion soldiers milling about the massive chamber as an officer gave curt orders to dispose of the bodies within, as if they were no more than slabs of meat.
You are no longer trying to hold tight to control!
You have embraced your wrath! You have +60% bonus to all damage and saving throws! Synergized ward in effect! Haste in effect! Druidic Battlevestments in use! Blade of Sacrifice in use! You have invoked Berserker’s Fury! Your damage bonus is boosted an additional 30%! No Spells or Psionic attacks below Adept Rank can be cast for duration! You cannot enter Shadowmind! Berserker’s Fury will not end until all visible opponents have fallen!
And Val howled as time seemed to warp and stretch, expressions filled with confusion or surprise meeting his own as he charged forward, his ashwood blade swinging with such devastating force that it tore completely through his closest foe’s jugular in a spray of blood as it arced through the air, slicing even as it cleaved through a second opponent’s spine, thorns hard as steel sawing through flesh and sinew effortlessly, jarring only for an instant against bone before the startled soldier’s h
ead was sent tumbling to the ground.
The air was alive with a shower of crimson rain as Val tore through his foes, darting and dodging with inhuman speed as surprised soldiers barely had time to scream, let alone grab ahold of blasters rendered inert by the flood of magics now pouring through the land.
Screams cut off to choked gurgles and dying sobs as desperately raised limbs were cleanly chopped through, Val’s blade of ash and thorn blasting through reinforced polymer chestplates and armored skulls to devastating effect before being wrenched free with terrible, inhuman strength as a roaring Val stormed the entrance now flooding with half a dozen reinforcements.
The soldiers were staring at the berserker before them with surprised gazes that quickly turned to horror as Val’s bone-shattering charge smashed them off their feet, oaken shield slamming dazed soldiers aside heartbeats before his killing blade tore through their flesh, dying men spraying blood, entrails, and screams before crumpling to loam, the sacrificial blade Val held turning brilliant crimson as it devoured them, body and soul.
Song of Battle in effect!
Death’s Kiss deferred for Sacrificial Blow!
Congratulations! Sword and Shield skill is now Adept Rank!
And then Val was out the door.
Facing scores of armored troops who still failed to understand their doom as their commander ordered them to fire, and the berserker among their midst wreaked hell among them. He butchered with such savage glee that morale was shattered in seconds, men suddenly screaming and running for all they were worth before crashing to the ground on stumps where their legs had been just moments before, pleading for mercy as their hearts were pierced by a blade as sharp as a grieving mother’s tears.
“Val! Baby, what’s going on? Something’s wrong!”
Val flashed a killer’s smile as a handful of Dominion guards actually equipped to engage in melee charged in with reflective shields held high, their short thrusting blades, much like ancient Roman gladii, held in practiced hands.
Val howled, smashing into their line with his shield, exhilarating in the startled cries of his foes, the feel of bones cracking under the force of his charge.
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