Moments before the disaster, Jonah was just getting used to his new armor and helmet. The gambeson was a light green like his jacket and flowed down to his knees. Up his forearms it was cut for access to his screens and weapon. Over his chest was a shining plated cuirass (a breastplate with a back as he learned), comfortably shifting and etched with enchantments to dampen force and resist magic. On his shoulders and down his biceps were pauldrons, the domes of which were engraved with musical notes and the gears of a clock, in the same style of Diana’s decorated armor. These embellishments were the idea of Rosetta and were added in the construction of them. The helmet was all his idea, based off of old paintball helmets he had always liked, despite them coming with the danger of painful strikes. Warren had suggested more classical designs, classical and warped, only wearable and made by magic. Jonah liked his idea more and Diana approved of it. There was a set of polarized wrapped goggles, shimmering with golden sunset colors. Atop the colorful lens was a shaded visor of questionable function. The whole helmet was a ballistic fiber of forest green with a few holes next to the mouth for breathing. All his body, the parts not already made of metal, were well covered and protected and he was going to need it.
The five dwelt in the rooftop garden, fully armored and trying to relax. Jonah was pacing along the north wall, playing music from Bot and glad he wasn’t sweating. The chill wind whistled through the wards over the flora in their planters.
Warren walked alongside him, his conjured helmet on his head. The wide open eyes leading to black depths watching his charge, the thorny crown high from the diadem that pressed into his head, keeping his mind clear. Every step of the Paladin caused his greatsword to lightly thud against his armored back. His greatcoat’s tail whipped in the wind and his gauntleted hands rested securely in his coat’s pockets.
The metal veins of Diana’s bark armor flickered occasionally in the noonday sun, which shone out from a collection of clouds. The sapphire tiger eyes of her helm sparkled too, as rough as they were. Her familiar followed her as she tended to her garden, brushing itself against her staff. She smiled over her shoulder at the determined marching of her love, hoping that his training was all for not.
Sitting in the heather bed was Rosetta, cross legged with a sketchbook on her lap. The designing of Jonah’s armor helped her rediscover her lost love of drawing. Fully bound in her god’s linen bandages, wearing the burgundy coat, her pencil scribbled away. She was trying her best to draw the protective Warren, but he was moving far too much.
Lastly, hiding in the shed was the young Crow Cleric, Hwen. Trancing in her armor, she hoped to not be awoken for the rest of the day. Though she had gotten used to the glare of the city, her Night elf blood still liked the dark and only loved the shine of the moon.
In one moment the whole building shook. Deafening blasts sounded out from the city and from their high point they could see the climbing pillar of smoke. The three protectors sprung into action as Diana and Jonah stumbled into the planters. Their immediate instinct was to look out to see what had happened. When the glass of the hotel shattered and rained down into the city streets, another pillar rising, there was already a much more local and concerning sight.
Out of the ether came a giant of a man in silvery and pointed armor. The twelve foot tall Guardian landed with all his weight on the wards above them, hundreds of pounds crashing into resilient but tested magical glass. His mighty sword, longer than seven feet easily, stabbed down into the magic. Cracks came with each strike, which sent shockwaves through the whole roof.
From his back Warren pulled his conduit bow. The limbs expanded out and the golden string fit into the groves. Glittering gold arrows came flying from the bow, one after the other. They all glanced off the well polished and internally rune etched armor of the half-giant, vanishing into the air in failure.
The Guardian landed as his magic cutting blade made a hole large enough for him to fit through. So harmed by his blade, the ward started to crumble totally. The great crafted chunks of magic fell and dissipated before they could touch any of those it was meant to protect. From the faceless and winged helm of the Guardian came a chuckle, as he stood firmly in the destroyed garden tiles.
Out of Diana’s hand came an arc of electricity, which flowed over the armor like water over a stone. A feeble feast of smokey crows rushed at the man’s face and body. As the birds struck the pointed shoulders and shield shaped face, they vanished into nothing. The Guardian glanced over at the Crow Cleric, scoffing. From the ground rose four lengths of speared chains, two from either side of him. With one hand on his broad gigantic sword, he sliced through them, turning them back to dust again. The two at his back bounced off, landing back on themselves with no momentum as his armor absorbed it all.
“It will take a lot more than you children to break the enchantments on this armor!” the Guardian boomed. “Cease your pathetic attempts, if I wanted you all dead, then you would be pieces on the floor. I only wish to speak with the princess…”
On the ground where he had fallen, Jonah aimed his fingers at the man, unable to shoot. His limb was quaking too much to get a clear shot. His heart beat in his temples like a dozen galloping horses. He knew that his weapon had a greater chance to break the magic, but he feared that blade. All he imagined was the weapon cleaving through him like butter.
Diana saw her love pointing at the giant Hero. She signaled quietly to him to lower his hand. Rosetta floated in front of her and she pushed the floating woman aside to stare where the Guardian’s eyes should have been. “What do you want?” she asked harshly, though she knew the answer.
“The deserters from the camp,” the Guardian said, driving his sword into the ground. He folded his arms with a great scraping of steel.
“You’re willing to blow up the city, one that has stood for thousands of years, just to capture some innocent children?” she asked. She could hear the cry of Ghouls and the screech of bats from below. The children were screaming for help and Niae was calling out guidance. She apologized internally for being preoccupied, saying a prayer to Corpine for their safety.
The Guardian looked about. “We?” he asked mockingly. “We haven't done anything. The Ash Makers are attacking the city of Alpha. We Heroes are here to capture the ones responsible. We got a tip that they were in the city and rushed over as soon as we could. Thankfully we were close by, coming to refuel again.” He jerked his head towards the port. There, a couple miles away, was the Pirate’s ship. The masts were barely visible from the wall, but it was slowly rising into the air, no doubt to be easily seen by all. Angelina was so terribly conceited.
“The Grands will be here soon to stop you. A few explosions--” Diana stopped as the Guardian shook his head, laughing.
“Hahaha! No, sad to say the Ash Makers managed to poison all the Grands. An amazing accomplishment, but the old fools are too arrogant in their walls. The city is left with only the Psyin Clerics, a few hundred people for such a large city,” he said smugly. “The rest of the Corpine temple is occupied, the Ash Makers decided to blow up some inhabited buildings. Hard to find here in Alpha, but you know the Order loves sending messages.”
“No one will ever believe this, what have you to prove it? Six people? Two children, a young man and woman, a Krax and an old man? What prisoners the Heroes captured!” she yelled, slamming her staff into the floor.
“History is written by the victors, little princess. The facts are what we make them. Now no one needs to get hurt today, and you can come out on top. You can be a Hero. All of you can,” he said, glancing about. “Doesn’t that sound nice, Whittaker? Hm, just like your grandfather? One out of a hundred descendents to make a real name for themselves?”
Warren threw his arm up over his fist, adding a middle finger to the gesture as well. “Go fuck yerself!” he shouted.
The Guardian clicked his tongue. “What about you, little princess, do you want to be a Hero? Truly?” he asked, a clear smirk in his voice. “You were so close before.”
“I would sooner die than join the ranks of you!” she spat.
He sighed deeply. “That can be arranged,” he said, his voice firm and menacing. “Accidents happen and it could be that an Ash Maker pushed you off of the building before any of us could save you…”
“You have given me no choice,” she said, standing up proudly. “Let’s not delay the inevitable any longer shall we?”
“And what is that, little princess?” he scoffed.
“YOUR DEATH!” she screamed. Driving her staff into the floor of the garden, Diana sent great chunks of stone flying towards the Guardian. Grabbing his sword, he was barely able to slice one of the three out of the air before they crashed into his body. The spells that absorbed force rippled across the steel, sending the remaining momentum into the ground around him, causing spiderweb cracks in the foundation.
“Contain him, Rose!” Diana ordered, throwing another volley of stone. This group of missiles were not so easily deflected or managed. The Guardian was within Diana’s outer range, so as a couple fell dead, they were launched back up into him. She molded them around him like clay, weighing him down. His sword went swinging and normally he would simply stand out of the restraints, Rosetta however screamed with exertion, obeying her command.
Up from the floor came chains with a loud rattling, eating into the stone before there was no ceiling in some places. The links of the chains were great, like those that dragged ships around a port. They sat heavily on the half-giant’s shoulders, criss-crossing and binding him down. The Sorceress was red in the face and sweating, her wrapped hands clawed and trembling as she willed her creations downwards. In her mind this was the only chance she had to save the living princess.
“Fire, Jonah!” Diana commanded, sending more stones to clang off the magically resistant armor. They kept molding to his legs, covering him and his sword. It wasn’t more than a few seconds since the attack had begun and Jonah sat there still shaking.
Warren swept Traveler up to his feet, holding his right arm steadily. “Ya got this, right to the chest,” he whispered sternly in the man’s ear. “He’ll kill us all if we don’t break that damn armor!”
Keen eared, the half-giant turned his head under the heavy mantle of chains. The Guardian laughed. “What have you got? Some magic in that metal arm? It won’t break me,” he declared. He made to stand, the whole building shaking from the effort. “I am a legendary Hero, I have faced worse than this and lived!”
Swallowing a deep breath and holding it tightly, Jonah aimed as his gun formed. Through the sight he saw a man, another living being. A child murderer, he thought, a heart eating monster. Between the chains he aimed his weapon. With a push of his mind the gun fired.
A deafening strike of metal on metal sounded throughout the air, louder than the Guardian’s sword on the wards. It was matched by a pained shout from the man. The pistol round hole was lined with glowing plasm. Such concentrated heat had been far too much for the magic to withstand. The projectile had gone straight into the man’s ribs to splash and burn hotter than any fire’s bite against his muscles. The greater shell was permanently broken and all others were just expanding the hole in the dam.
The other four standing on the roof staggered, nearly falling, as the half-giant roared so loud that it echoed through the city and started to shake his restraints. Clenching his fists he made to stand and the floor began to break into chunks, the roots of the great chains flying up. His feet were free from a flex of his calves alone.
Rosetta, steady in her flight, sent the chains deeper, into the floor of the penthouse, binding them to firmer stuff. Her heart beat so heavily that spots appeared on her vision, she felt nauseous, like she might puke at any moment and break concentration. She was in a self made furnace of overexertion, but knew she couldn’t give up. She had never faced something so powerful and she had gone up against Watchdogs of the gods, beasts designed only to destroy and kill.
“Fire! Fire!” Warren shouted. Both him and Jonah had landed on the ground, the Traveler took the fall straight to his metal knees. Pain radiated up his femurs through the anchors in them. Stabilized by the Paladin’s grip, he fired again. This one hit the mass of a man too, melting through his armor easier than the first one had. The second round went through the half-giant’s ribs and sent molten droplets burning through to the man’s lung, turning the furious roar into a bloody choke.
Still the beast of a man continued. The rage motivated him further, ripping one chain by his right arm with a firm grip on it. A portion of the floor below tore up with a cloud of dust, and the rest of the chains stopped tightening as Rosetta crumbled to the ground. The poor Sorceress emptied the bile of her stomach onto the cracked roof, her last conscious thought was that of failure.
Hwen, gathering herself up from the floor, finally finished her prayer through all the interruptions. One that couldn’t have gone through without the expanded breaking of the Guardian’s armor. From her hand appeared a smoke bodied raven, that flew deftly through the air into the space of one plasma round. Slipping through the steel, the prayer chewed at the wounds of the man.
“The Raven King calls for your soul!” the Crow Cleric cried.
Distracted from his work, a bestial snarl came from the Guardian as he clawed at his side. The scratching of his metal guarded fingers was revolting to hear. The wounds within his body were widening and growing more intense as the spectral raven kept swirling through his insides.
Diana had Aiko drag Rosetta towards the north end of the garden as the cracks in the unsteady structure grew. She went towards the south, toward the port where the Pirate’s ship hovered. This was farther from where the vulnerable parts of the half-giant’s armor was and in Jonah’s crossfire, but she made to swiftly circle around. Aiko carried Rosetta by the jacket to Warren, who was busy praying over his daggers.
When Diana was no longer in range and Hwen’s raven expired, the Guardian started to test his bindings again. This time the two inch thick links of chains ripped up from their roots and he shrugged off the hundreds of pounds from his body. Jonah fired again, steady on his own now. This round of molten copper hit the Guardian’s back, whizzed below his ribs, through the muscle, and to his intestines, cooking through his guts. The monster was furious and internal bleeding or burning organs wasn’t about to stop him.
Three spots open on his armor, the Guardian drew his sword. Before he could take another step though, three sleek items came flying towards him. Two of them were Warren’s daggers, alight with golden fire from his god, prayed into a level enough to cut through most anything. The Paladin held the dual concentration bands around his hands, sweating profusely and seeing spots as Rosetta had. The daggers obeyed his command, driving home into the Guardian’s side where Jonah’s first two rounds had hit, slicing in the opposite directions. The blazing daggers cut a foot around to the man’s sternum and back towards his spine. A hill giant’s bones are harder to cut than stone and his muscle is not much easier.
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So while the armor cut and the flesh was sliced, the muscles of the half-giant (who held much of the power of his kin), resisted and were only cleaved partly, taking much of dagger’s effort. The gambeson underneath the armor, which was already smoking from the plasma, now ignited. Yanking the daggers from his body, he threw them back to their owner. The Paladin was no fool and his well made weapons slid harmlessly back into their sheaths.
The Guardian clawed at his back, for the third item was another death tolling raven. He knew he couldn’t reach it, but with its intense pain came the reflex to grab for what was itching at him. He roared, coughing up blood from his torn up throat, though he didn’t falter. With both hands he threw his sword toward the Crow Cleric. As the flying blade came towards her, Hwen saw her death and froze.
The concentration broke from his daggers, Warren sent up a bullet screen. The sword and its anti-magical properties shattered the golden wall of fractal shapes. It slowed greatly, but was still coming towards her. Diana, who was beside the Paladin, had sent her magic out through the stone at the same time. The half-giant’s throw was still too much and Hwen stood petrified. As the sword cleaved through the stone, she finally moved, but it was too late. Blood spattered out onto the garden floor as Hwen was cut below her ribs, two inches deep into her intestines and out the side of her body. Her armor meant little to the fine point of the Guardian’s extremely enchanted blade.
He laughed as the spell broke and the itch stopped. Activating a rune on his bracer, the sword flew back through the stone and into his hand. “Now, for the rest of--” he cut off as a plasma round cut through his chest, right over his heart. Unfortunately it couldn’t reach the black thing, lodging itself in his sternum, smoldering. Another landed in the space above his left lung, flecking the organ with molten metal. His gambeson was now burning fully, the temperature enchantments having broken. Smoke rose up from the cracks in his armor. He stumbled back, unable to hold his footing as two glowing arrows sprouted from the new holes in his armor. Warren landed several within the needle threading width of the slices across the Guardian’s lower abdomen too.
The gulfs of stone torn up from the ground made the Guardian stumble backwards further. A top heavy beast, he struggled to maintain his footing, stretching his stride to land on the other side of the canyons he created. He was pelted with arrows and plasma rounds still, landing less than twenty feet from the beds of heather and the side of the building.
Diana had been tending to Hwen, binding the woman’s stomach with hempen rope and using it to apply pressure. She had the Crow’s mask off and was feeding her a hastily made swirl of witch hazel to stop the bleeding. The Druid had taken note of all the Guardian’s injuries, well aware of his bodily resilience. Even now with all these new holes in his chest and now arms as he shielded himself from the shots of plasma, he was nowhere close to dead. The arrows were all shallow, unable to pierce through his sturdy bones.
If the plasma bullets were able to go through them, then he would already be dead. He was in pain, but the man had sold his soul to the hunger of a wolf for a reason. He had survived greater wounds than this and it was only a battle of attrition against him. They would all tire before he stopped moving, unless they gave him something he couldn’t easily heal.
Jonah jerked his gun hand uselessly, he was out of ammo. Shakily he reached for his bag of coins and sent them scattering all around his feet. Rosetta was rising out of her faint and Warren held the string of his bow, but didn’t draw, he was panting from the strain of firing so many. It was too late and the Guardian was laughing, wiping away the fading shafts from his mighty chest like sticks set in the mud.
“You have damaged my armor and me, but you lack the strength and conviction to kill me!” he bellowed, holding his sword up in a guarding stance. “Not one of you managed to hit my head. I have taken down two of you, stand down and I won’t have to add another dead princess to the news reels!”
“You’re right, I don’t want that,” Diana said firmly. She moved forward and Warren came with her, drawing his sword. Lowering her staff and her head, she picked over the broken patches and holes in the garden floor. “Please, don’t kill us, no one wants to die here. We know when we’ve been beaten…"
The Guardian, haughty and healing rapidly as the smoke fizzled out, relaxed his stance. His skin beneath the armor was blackened and tearing, leaking blood down into his boots. If it wasn't for the fact the princess was with them, the man would have ripped them all to shreds and eaten their hearts.
“Diana, we can’t give up!” Jonah cried, standing.
There were only a few coins in his hand and he knew that it wasn’t going to do any good. He had looked up giants and their toughness, finding grim results that terrified him to his bones.
Still Diana looked over her shoulder, surprised as he was that he had such braveness in him. He had to have some left, the only choice besides fighting was the death of those they were protecting. They hadn't known them long, but he would never forget their faces should they perish.
“We have to, Jonah, there’s no other choice. This is our sign…” she said sternly. Behind her back, Diana’s fingers were crossed. The childish gesture caught his attention and she began to hastily spell out for him as she inclined her head to the murderer.
L-o-a-d.
F-i-r-e.
H-e-a-d.
Her hand trembled, repeating them again before he understood.
There was no way to easily load any more rounds into his wrist, the three in his hand would be all that he had. Diana stepped closer, until the Guardian, wary of some trick, raised his sword again, setting the point against the princess’s breast. The sharp tip chipped at the sturdy wood, quickly pushed away by the armored hand and body of Warren, who held the sword. The two tall men stared each other down from out their armor, the expressionless steel holding their rage steady.
Jonah moved along the planters, head down, stepping around Rosetta, who was raising up on her hands. The Sorceress was shaky with hunger, swallowing harshly down her dry and scratchy throat. She coughed and that only made the sand blasted sensation worse, throwing acid and iron onto her tongue again. She stood up, holding the stitch in her side, surveying the situation she had left for utter darkness a moment ago.
Behind a spire of earth was Hwen, holding her side too, though hers was covered in blood. The puddle about her didn’t grow, and the Crow Cleric prayed to her lord not to take her yet. She knew she should be ready to serve the King forever, but actual harm had made her convictions weak.
The sky was thick with smoke from the explosions in the city, a gray perversion to the mist heavy clouds. They could all hear the struggle both below them and around. It was burning Ghouls and clashing weapons and magic. Faintly Diana through Aiko heard the concentrated casting of the Hags, the spells that held a night like sky for the undead beasts.
The tiger saw that Jonah was in range and Diana sank to her knees before the creature known as the Guardian. Warren, confused--if only Diana could have mastered quick mental magic--glanced back at her. He kept his greatsword rested against his right shoulder, ready to chop into the Guardian’s neck, no matter how useless his attempt might be. He would rather die with his boots on than surrender to the monster’s demands. The blood thirst in his mind burned bright.
“We surrender, fully and without condition,” Diana said, holding up her staff in her loose grip.
Before the Guardian could speak, Rosetta screamed, adding more blood to her throat. “NO, NEVER, NEVER, I WON’T FAIL AGAIN!” She rose up from the ground, coming unsteadily forward, shortening the range of her magic.
The Guardian tugged his sword out of Warren’s hands with ease. The Paladin escaped with only a shallow gash across his fingers. Diana rose as well, cursing her friend and protector’s determination. It was a far better distraction though as Jonah raised his hand. Without hesitation or nerves, mind clear save the singular thought of survival, the Machinist fired. The winged helm was perfectly within the circle and cross of his sight, a large target despite the good distance.
Besides throwing his sword, the Guardian had never worked out any ranged attacks. He was meant to be thrown into the fray and endure, lopping off heads and cutting through men like paper dolls. Not knowing what to expect from the Sorceress, he raised his sword into a roof guard. One that put his head on full display for the Machinist.
The plink of the plasma round breaking the well reinforced helmet echoed through the city like a shout in a cave. The round of molten copper broke apart after penetrating and splashed across the man’s left temple. It melted through his eyelid and popped his eye with a bloody gushing.
The Guardian howled in pain, clutching his face and dropping his sword. There were things that even the centuries had yet to bring him so far as agony. This was a new one, one he would take his revenge for.
Wasting no time, Diana pushed with all her might, conducting the planters and the steady stone behind them. The ton of earth and rock went flying over the edge of the building. She signaled to Warren, Over, Over! She dared not speak aloud in case their victim should brace himself. Her heart thudded and she needed just a moment to recover.
Flaming sword gripped tightly in his bloody hands, Warren threaded through the gash in the armor he had made before. The point fit neatly and there were Watchdogs that were easier to stab than the half-giant. Slipping up through the stony muscle, beneath the dense rib cage, Warren’s gold flame blade skewered through the Guardian’s mighty lung.
The Hero wheezed, breathless and grievously injured, his curse keeping it from being mortal. As Warren drew his blade out--sizzling off the blood--he lowered his shoulder, driving all his weight into the wall of a man. The shockwaves were only partially absorbed by the Paladin’s armor and he felt them in his boots. The Guardian staggered backwards, his hand gripping his face, cautious of what might be a truly mortal blow.
It wasn’t enough and the man crouched down, driving the fingers of his other hand into the stone like wet clay. Diana had regained her bearing and she stomped her feet, willing the rock around the Guardian to give in a slicing pattern. The whole of his footing started to drift off the building. Rosetta had reached them and understood what was happening and the goal. Her belly burned like hot coals and its emptiness tore through her.
The Sorceress sent out hammer tipped chains, trying to push the man off the building. Her exhaustion and hunger caused them to go everywhere, clogging up the space by Warren’s feet. The Paladin was trying to escape the slipping Guardian, and couldn’t find his footing now from her error.
As the Guardian realized that his footing was slipping, he reached out for Warren. To the Paladin’s frustration--and Rosetta’s gasping terror--he was caught by the ankle. As his feet were swept out from him, he stabbed his sword into the floor, its enchantments tested as the fire went out in the stone. The greatsword cut through the cracking roof and he swore violently, wishing that he wasn’t about to be stung by a dead bee that was the doomed Guardian.
Aiko loped over to the Paladin and caught him by the jacket, using all its strength to hold him back. The tiger’s legs all spread wide and a growl rumbled from out of its throat. Diana sent a bundle of hempen ropes around the Paladin, anchoring them to spires of stone she brought up through the floor below. The ground was falling off from under the Guardian, and he gripped the remaining stone wall besides what had once been peaceful planters of heather. The Druid sent that tearing off too, but he kept holding on.
Now Rosetta was horribly ashamed and thoroughly motivated to save the man that had helped her so much. She added chains to Diana’s ropes, using the nearly fatal ones from before. Behind her blindfold of magical linen she was crying, her hand holding the magic in place trembling. From her cracked lips and bloody throat came an endless string of apologies.
Able to pick his way past the gorge of the broken roof, Jonah made his way to the new battle. He came up behind Diana, nearly point blank with the beast that wouldn’t surrender. Though the ground shook and his soul was exhausted, he took aim. In trying to kill the grandson of a man he never liked, the Guardian didn’t see the new Machinist until the last second. He turned his head away, towards where he gripped the building.
Trying to protect his head, he had further doomed himself. The shot went off target and slipped its way into the chink between his gorget and helmet. This plasma round was the most deadly, breaking the enchantment of the gorget, taking a huge piece of it too. Finally it flew through his already pierced and slowly healing lung.
Taking this opportunity, Diana withdrew a sprig of wolfsbane, something precious given all those that she had withdrawn for juicing. The purple flower flew the short distance into this new hole. The gray stem planted itself into the Guardian’s body, causing wounds that he couldn’t heal from without the consuming of several lives. The roots branched out, turning his organs and flesh to ashen white, chilling the once overheated man to ice. They wrapped around his heart, making the bundle of muscles into the perfect fertilizer for the beautiful and deadly flower.
All force and motion left the monster and Warren’s kicking boot finally freed him from the now limp grasp. The helmet still covered the former Hero’s face, so none of them could see the shock of being so defeated. He fell, all of his nearly half ton of weight toppling end over end for ten whole stories. With a crash that shook the building, he made a crater in the earth, destroying the garden of heather that Diana had worked so hard to make. It was a fine sacrifice to rid the world of him.
“Rot in the pits of hell, may the crows eat you forever!” Diana spat down at him.
“He’s not dead, not for good,” Warren said, as he was released from the restraints that had saved his life. Rosetta crashed into him with a sobbing hug, apologizing profusely. Her arms wrapped around his neck with all the strength in her, which was about as much as the dead Guardian. She pressed her lips desperately into the metal covering his neck. Sheathing his sword, Warren held her to him. Her heart beat heavily, but he could tell she was lapsing in and out of consciousness.
“He’s dead enough for now,” Diana said with a measure of pride. “Come, let us go. We need to hurry to the others.”
“Just a quick stop for her, she needs something. We all need water, I’m sure. I’ll carry Hwen too.” They all moved as quickly as they could over the destruction. “Her bleeding has stopped for now.” Warren’s helmet was off as he swigged from his canteen, Diana and Jonah were doing the same from hers. Jonah’s hair was all soaked into ringlets down his head, his brown cheeks flushed.
“Aiko will carry Rosetta, she doesn’t have a stomach wound,” Diana reasoned.
Though Rosetta protested, she was placed on the tiger. Careful not to disturb her wound, Warren picked up the Night elf. He was changing one small woman for the other, but he didn’t have time to dwell on anything like that. Hwen stared at her savior a moment, thanking her god for sending him. She nestled her arms up to his chest, unable to extend them.
They were in the penthouse or what was left of it, in seconds. Rubble lay everywhere and all that had been wonderful and nice was broken and in pieces. One of those things being the dining room table, a stone having cracked it right in half. The phone was useless, despite not being destroyed. That told Warren that making a new messaging circle might be a waste of time.
Another waste of time was Rosetta’s current panic attack. She stood, watered and weakly biting through a roll of summer sausage. The nutrition was helping her, but her mind was holding her back. The haunting aspect of the dead princess and her mistake was causing her magic to fail, her bindings sliding off her body.
“I failed Diana, she could’ve ruddy died, I can’t do it, leave mah here. Warren almost died because of mah. He was so close to fallin’, I’m such a failure! Gods, I should have gone over the roof with the bloody bastard…” she was saying, the cup and food in her hands quaking with her.
Faintly the sounds of struggle had dampened far below, though through the floor Warren and Aiko heard another battle going on. The Psyin Cleric, Grave Paladin, and a Crow Cleric were fighting the Hags as they lingered there for more minutes than they had. The Witchly beings were going to be just as annoying as a Hero, though the three were more prepared.
“I can’t do it anymore, I can’t Warren, I’m sorry! Please, just leave mah be here,” Rosetta went on.
Holding Hwen to him with one arm, Warren reached out for Rosetta. Between his thumb and forefinger, he grabbed the skin of Sorceress’s belly, twisting roughly. She wailed in pain, bouncing on her feet from the agony.
“Get yer shit together. Ya got knocked down, now get back up!” he shouted at her. “I’m alive, ya saved me. We got work to do! Ya can’t just give up!”
She didn’t try to stop him, raking her lip across her teeth as she nodded. “Thank yah, thank yah, may the Chained god bless yah,” she said, sighing with relief. All the bindings of her body neatly tightened once more and she took great bites of food as he released her. Hwen yelped, hiding her face from the shouting and violence.
“Ya need anything, best grab it now,” Warren bellowed at the others.
Jonah shoved his helmet back on. “Reloaded, ready to go,” he said, nodding.
“You need silver rounds, dear,” Diana said.
Up from the counter, Rosetta swept a handful of sand. She formed it into glittering coins, placing them directly into the pouch Jonah had on his belt. He thanked her and Warren kicked open the door as it had sunken in the fighting.
“Come on, we gotta go!” he bellowed.