I think this is the first time in my life I’ve ever intentionally looted an actual corpse. Rolling someone’s body for such a purpose sickens me, but I’m hoping there’ll be a missive, or map on his personage. I’m in luck there. I. I still feel awful about what I’ve done, but a bit less so. This says something about wiping the slate of Rayileklia clean, purging it of the filthy corruption of Aasimovia’s impurity. Friggin’ fanatics. It also shows a diagram that looks similar to troop-placements that I’ve seen Priscilla draw out. There’s an entire compound of these jerks somewhere nearby. Castle walls, a tunnel complex. Of effing course there’s a tunnel complex. When isn’t a tunnel complex involved in some evil scheme in Reggie’s life?
Mothergrubbing mrgrgr. I think they mean to release some sort of spell via a ritual that somehow undoes the enchantment on Aasimovia’s ancestors, or wipes them out, or burns them away. Horrid fanatical arsemonkies. What is it with people and having to tromp on each others’ traditions? Leave your neighbor alone. Be kind to them. They should do the same. Ugh. I hate humans sometimes. Stupid Fakeworld memories. I’m so freakin’ glad Earth doesn’t exist. Could you imagine? Those poor people. All those catastrophes, mostly at their own hands.
Oh, I just had a thought. What if the engraving tool that was being used back in the Derbrightmine dominion was rifling, well, rifle muzzles? Ugh, the dwarves could be within a generation of tommyguns and automatic weaponry. They still probably wouldn’t be able to kill some dragons with them though. Something about their scales distributes kinetic force. The older and larger the dragon, the larger the scales to distribute force across a wider area. It was true for Lil on Can’Z’aas, and seemed to be true for Kozzurth here on Rayileklia, so it might apply to others. I wouldn’t have been able to penetrate her scales. I’d have had to peel one off and keep attacking the flesh underneath, and peeling one off took me minutes of concentrated effort, when I have Can’Z’aasian strength. I think the dwarves on average are about as strong as me, though their stronger individuals would be far stronger.
Hm, if the dwarves have to fight dragons, well, let’s see. The eyes might be vulnerable, maybe. Possibly the nostrils and throat. Most gunners aren’t going to get a chance to fire from the front of a dragon’s face though, where all those possible vulnerabilities are. As soon as the dragons know to avoid gunnery, they’ll just turn massive breath weapons towards areas gunfire is coming from. Hey Reggie! What? Don’t get distracted! Oh, right, right. We’re on a mission. At least we’ve only been wasting a few seconds lost in thought. Still, better get a move-on.
Dippy’s spell finishes enhancing my legs, and he’s right, it feels like my legs are almost longer as I’m able to travel further with each stride, at the same pace I’d been running before. Even though it takes the same time to take a stride, I’m covering more ground, and making much better pace. I can see why someone as short as Dippy might have come up with, or learned a spell like this. Whew, we must be drawing close. There’s a certain ripple in the air, a kind of static hum that heralds a long-charging, massive spell. I do not relish the idea of fighting my way through a horde of crazed “Bright Lord” cultists. I’m sure Teuila dashed right on by all of them, unamused by any possible crossbow attacks. Hopefully she thought to go Valkyrie on the way in, using her transformation spell along the way, over the eight or so minutes it would take to engage her Can’Z’aasian magic.
Dippy keeps stride with me easily enough. I’m not even sure if he also has his legs currently enchanted. He’s definitely got a greater overall agility than me, but he is a fair deal smaller when I’m in this form. He’s a bit shorter than cherubic-Reggie form even. I think. Ugh, it’s becoming harder to breathe. The air is moist, and thick with an oppressive gloom. The dense fog-cover blankets the region in a sinister fashion. There’s an insidious, sickly green glow cast across everything, as if the fog itself were passing along the festering fires of some diseased hell.
Seriously? You idiots believe your spell, and lord, are the good guys, with magic like this hanging in the air? It’s revolting. Dippy, Zippy, and I have a hard time not gagging as we suck down air while making haste. I hate fanatics. Even if these people were once moral individuals, their brains are so rewired that, “oh hey, kill anyone that comes near,” is a perfectly reasonable order that they’re willing to follow without question. No announcement, no warning, no attempt at treaty or parley, just kill.
I’ve dealt with this before, and I tried mercy, time and time again. The sane faction wasn’t as lenient or as merciful though. They got results with brutality. I’m starting to worry about the Colossi near Autumn Brook. Should Teuila and I just slaughter them all for the safety of The Brook? I think I took the best course of action, between those that presented themselves. A sort of, the least evil kind of decision. Ugh, still evil regardless. But what are you supposed to do when a creature of pure malice commands others to capture and or possibly kill others, to eat them? Back on task Reggie, drop the topic. Right, right.
We’re approaching a section of cliff facing that’s different than the surrounding areas. More and more of it begins to look like pillars carved into the stone face of the cliffs. The splash of our feet in the occasional puddle atop the barren stone of the canyon floor is the only sound besides the acid-rainclouds’ constant rumble of thunder and crack of lightning. Even the drizzle seems to be less heavy here, compared to the weight of the magic in the air casting its oppressive gloom upon everything.
The twang of the release of crossbows as they fire alerts me to the presence of hostiles a moment before Dippy notices and reacts to it as well. There’s an entire wall of projectiles bearing down on us as Dippy tries to place himself and his shield in front of me. My telekinesis is too slow, methodical, analytical. I can only grip a single bolt out of the sky during the time that all of them close in on us. Dippy takes two bolts to his tail for his trouble of trying to protect me with his portable nest. We can’t even see our attackers yet, and if we remain here, they’ll have time to reload, and possibly fire upon us from different angles. I take the last bolt of this wave of projectiles in my right shoulder, barely missing my stupid right lung as I fire my own double-barreled crossbow in the directions the bolts had come from. It instantly reloads, so I’m able to fire shot after shot after shot. I can hear the shuffle of leather upon stone, boot-soles or slippers moving about. As I’d feared, they’re going to get around us if I don’t do something. Dippy wants to protect me, still, but he’s about to abandon his shield to start drawing his bow as another wave of projectiles imminently approaches us.
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Oh hell. My Valkyrie armor protects me from a vast majority of the bolts, and my danger-wraps guide my buckler to deflect blows that would have been fatal. Still, even under the protection of powerful magic items, several bolts find their way home to strike me amidst the joints in my armor. Still, I press onward, struggling to find our assailants’ positions. I can finally see what we’re up against, and it’s disheartening to say the least. There’s a walled off compound, with a massive portcullis ahead. It must be what the missive diagram was referring to for placement, and the possible fall-back orders. The murder-holes for the crossbows aren’t as tight and small as the ones for the dwarves, they’re actually several feet across, and maybe a foot high each, I could definitely lace some shots through them without needing to be eye-of-the-needle precise. I’d rather not become a pincushion however during the amount of time it would take to carefully find useful angles to aim at. Especially when they could hold the crossbows above their heads, and blind-fire to keep me pinned down.
My telekinesis feels about, around the edges of the lowered gate, and thankfully, even though it’s barred, my telekinesis is far stronger than me. I telekinetically lift the bar from behind the gate, essentially a massive log, and I send it hurtling sideways into the kill-alley on the west side of the gate, scattering and crushing almost half the forces that are firing upon us, but losing the log in the process as it wedges itself amidst corpses. There’s still the eastern half, and any that have snuck off to the sides to flank us. We need to get in there. And great, they’ve just severed the chain attached to the winch that raises the portcullis. Sonnova. Huff. Sighing exasperatedly, I aim my telekinesis at the gate and portcullis itself. I slam the gate wide open, but struggle to lift the massive interlocking iron-bars of the portcullis.
As I’m focusing on that, Dippy has burst out from cover and is attempting to keep the eastern half pinned down so that they have to blind-fire at me. I’m incredibly appreciative, as it means I’m taking far less hits, though some still strike as I struggle to exert my mental might against the intense weight before me. Gasping, panting for breath, it begins to rise as I sink to my knees. I’ve only got it a few inches off the ground, maybe a foot or a foot and a half of clearance. I, I can’t keep this up.
Dippy, seeing me falter, stumble, and fall, notices what I’ve been doing, and is torn between trying to drag me to safety, or taking advantage of the opening. He seems to decide that taking action is likelier to keep me alive, as he makes a mad dash and slides through the mud beneath the portcullis, with barely enough clearance. Zippy follows easily enough, and the two set off up the eastern steps into the eastern kill-alley. I struggle, and crawl forward slowly, as I’m struck by several more bolts in my thighs, and calves. There are shouts and screams and the sounds of dropping bodies coming from the direction Dippy had taken off in. He has managed to either kill all of them, or at least draw all their attention away from me. Now the only ones firing upon me are the western flankers who had snuck around during the initial volley.
All the while they’d been shouting nonsensical crap like for the glory of the bright lord, and other meaningless bullshiz. Stupid fanatical arseholes. This entire time, any shout that wasn’t a grunt of pain has been some stupid nonsense about cleansing light, or lord of light, purify this, burn away that. My rage rises and rises as the fanaticism reminds me more and more of the MCF.
I let the portcullis drop with a slam as I turn my telekinesis towards the incoming projectiles. Huff, I pant with exertion, but I’ll deal with getting inside after these ones are taken care of. I dodge two bolts, block two more on my Valkyrie buckler, one is deflected by my armor entirely, and another scrapes along near my Achilles tendon. Hey Reggie, remember that thing you wanted me not to do? Awe, hell, don’t do it Reggie, that’s sickening. Heh. Wrath presents itself and I give in. I reach out my telekinetic senses, and can tell half a dozen foes are nearby. One by one I squeeze their heads with my telekinesis. Hrp. Ugh. I’m going to be sick. Reggie that was brutal, disgusting, completely unnecessary. Meh.
Still fueled by rage, I turn my telekinetic senses back towards the lowered portcullis, and lift it, surprisingly much easier, a couple of feet off the ground, enough clearance to easily shimmy under. Feeling like an idiot on the other side, knowing we might need an escape route, I have my telekinesis pick apart the stonework at the cliff face. I use the largest piece of fallen stone to slam it mentally against the outer wall, over and over as I hear more shouts and hustling coming from deeper within the compound. Just as Dippy rejoins me, I finally succeed in bashing free the portcullis, and it falls outward with a mighty slam and squelch into the mud outside.
Huff. Phew. How the hell did Teuila get in here? Or Dawn for that matter? I suppose, the murder holes are much larger. With enough speed, or stealth, they could have probably leapt up into and through those. They’re almost windows. There was no way I was going to make it up into there however, especially since they were already on high-alert, likely from a brown blur streaking into the facility. I continue to pant with exhaustion as I set my hands on my knees, bending over for a breather.
My eyes roll in their sockets momentarily as my weariness catches up with me. I struggle to catch my breath as I stumble forward, towards more enemies. Whatever this ritual is, this grand spell to bring a cleansing flame down upon all of Aasimovia, it has to be stopped.