Quick Reggie, use retrocognition, find the clues, find the best way to turn the tides, some single masterstroke that takes advantage of this brief breather in order to—. I get it. I know, I know, just do it already! Alright alright already! Breathing deeply, I dive into the non, the space between spaces, the time between moments, I stretch out the absence of time to dwell within it. My Honoris Causa deactivated in that last panic attack, so I’ll be needing to reactivate it in a moment.
Okay, take a look at the battlefield. Lil’s taking too many little spells, and hasn’t been able to bring many of his abilities to bear at all. Lucky’s going to die if keeps trying to take on the magitek mecha. He’s doing absolutely nothing to it, and it’s hammering him with those blasts every few seconds. He’s plenty tough enough to take a bunch more blasts yet, but it will end him before he so much as inconveniences it. Any of the three of us could take down Commander Triorgraiz. Wait, that’s it.
Think about the magitek mecha again for a second. There’s auras and perfect seals everywhere, but I know for a fact that there’s two Draconiacs in the cockpit piloting it. I know that it can be opened from within, but what about from outside? Hehe. Hehehe. Hehehehe.
Reggie? Mhm. You have a spell just for that. Mhm. I know. The arcane-locking and knocking spell. It unlocks doors that aren’t magically locked, instantly, and unlocks doors that are magically locked, in only the shortest of moments. Why try to beat some unbeatable magitek mecha, when you can just melt the pilots inside of it? I’m sure it has weaknesses, but we might not have them available, or they might take too long to find mid-battle to survive against it.
Okay, okay okay okay. So, that’s what we’ll do. I’ll take on the magitek mecha, Lucky will swap to Lil’s position to take on the hordes of annoying little things, and Lil will dance with Triorgraiz and her mount. Now, how can I communicate this without telepathy, without giving away our strategy to our foes, since my bond is blocked with my enchantment? I can’t risk taking it down right now either, with Whisper’s wielder hot on my tail. A simple code. I’ve got it. Easy enough. Get back to it Reggie.
Returning to the flow of time from the non, I enter reality at its normal pace. Whoops, hiya gravity. I’m always forgetting about you. I shout what likely sounds like nonsense, “Lucky, Lil, Robin’s dance partner!”
A round robin swap off of dance partners. Lucky gets it immediately, and even if Lil didn’t catch on as quickly, Lucky rushing him with his giant tongue flailing causes Lil to veer towards me anyway. Chuckling, I wink at Triorgraiz as I fly by her towards the magitek mecha while drawing my archsorc staff, Claíomh Solais. I think her command is the first time I’ve heard someone in Terrorzin’s forces offer what might be mercy. It might be a ploy to get us to stand down, but even that hasn’t been attempted before now. Anyway, she’s Lil’s dance partner now. I hope he can sus out if she’s worth offering mercy to, and if she is, that he can try to get her to surrender.
I mean, everyone is worth offering mercy to, but they might not be truly deserving of the life that mercy would grant them, if they choose to continue to do evil anyway. The mecha here can’t choose to be evil, but I can’t exactly offer it mercy either. The magitek mecha is agile, I’ll give it that. Even though it looks a bit egg-shaped, its rounded body seems well-balanced, and its limbs are powerful enough that it’s never off-kilter. While Lil swoops low towards Triorgraiz’s mount, it lunges for him while she attempts to maintain control of the situation. Lucky is absolutely tearing through hordes along the wall, swatting them down like flies as he grows larger and larger. Me? Well, I’m giggling about having to enter a back-door to win a fight, instead of having to exit one to flee a fight.
Grasping the rear of the magitek mecha, between its boosters, I’m exploring to find where the hatch was. Come on, come on! Unless they did some sort of dimensional traversal spell that opened a false door to another dimension that happens to hold the mech’s interior, it should be here! There! Knock knock. Pft. I can’t help snorting a laugh at my own stupidity as I double tap the hatch with the arcane knocking spell from Claíomh Solais.
The pall of absolute fear that radiates from within the cockpit is almost immeasurable. I wish I had the time to offer mercy to these pilots. The sheer volume of buttons and devices within the cockpit make it unlikely that anyone untrained would be able to operate the thing at all. The problem is, if I spare them, anywhere I put them other than the portable hole is just somewhere they could sneak back into the cockpit of this near-unbeatable magitek mecha from. I’m sorry you two. You look like you could be siblings, brother and sister maybe. I’ll never know your names, or your stories. Please forgive me.
Muttering a lower power spell, I loose, “LSE, balefire.”
There’s one less of the lesser shadowy evocation spells available to me for the day, from the orb-time benefits. I’ve got two more of those, and two more shadowy conjurations, three more blastfrosts, my meteorites, my two minute eighth tier conjuration, and maybe a few other things I’m forgetting from that time. I choke back a sob at having taken lives without giving them a chance for mercy. I can’t utilize this mecha, and I can’t spare the time to figure out how it works, since retrocognition doesn’t have any data points to try to fill me in from, and it could be boobytrapped as well. Sadly, all I can do for now is lock away the evidence of my abominable action. Closing the hatch, I layer it up with several arcane locking spells. Finally, I signal an ally I put into the fight a little while ago.
When Frostfire Salamanderian makes her appearance, after I’d just shut down their near-invincible magitek mecha, while Lucky’s been decimating their ranged forces, it seems like the battle is finally going as planned. Lil has apparently slain, subdued, or knocked out Triorgraiz’s mount, and she’s trying to muster her forces in order to mount a more solid defense against us. There’s a fear, and a sadness in her eyes, but it isn’t just for her life. I feel sick to my stomach. She cares about her troops, and likely her mount.
The fight is draining out of me pretty quickly, seeing Draconiacs dragging their wounded allies out of the fray, seeing a commander who cares about her people, and is saddened by the loss of her mount, possibly her friend. The shouts are still a mix of fanatical dogma as usual, but there’s also pleas for friends to wake up, to be okay. There’re orders to fall back, to protect the wounded. There are even calls that curse me and my party specifically for our brutality and ruthlessness.
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Fighting back a sob, I call my own ceasefire, begging Frostfire Salamanderian to take up a position hidden amidst flames, awaiting a possible continuation of the fight. Lil and Lucky back up towards the entrance, both changing shape, shrinking enough that they can back out quickly if needbe.
My best buddy queries, “What’s up Rej, why’re we stopping? We’re winning.”
Sighing, and motioning to the field, I ask, “Sure, but what are we winning against Lil? Not monsters, people. People that are still capable of empathy, despite half of them being brainwashed.”
Shrugging, Lil responds, “Well tough cookies for them, you offered mercy, I heard you. You keep doing it. Do you want to give it another try?”
Nodding sadly towards Lil, I try to gather my thoughts. Divesting most of my armaments, putting away my weapons, sheathing Claíomh Solais, I float forward, down towards the ground with my palms up, until I’m striding purposefully towards Triorgraiz. There’s recognition in her eyes. She understands my regret for what I’ve done.
I don’t get it. Until now, every Terrorzin follower seemed like a fanatical lunatic, or immediately defected, trying to get out from under his reign. Our information said the closer we got to the heart of Terrorzin’s territories, the more fanatical they’d be, but this is the deepest location of any of our offensives yet, even moreso than Teuila’s current assault. Could they be playing me? Do they know that my weakness is sympathy? Sighing, I shake my head at myself. It doesn’t matter whether they are or not. I have to be the me that tries.
Standing tall, closing my eyes, I telekinetically snap several bolts out of the air that are launched my way, but I don’t retaliate, despite the uneasy ceasefire. I begin, “I’m beyond devastated at having taken so many lives, and having caused so many injuries. Know that there will be many, many more before my war is through. I aim to end the Ice of Rage forever, and all those that would follow his insane plot to burn down the world around him. I’ve not even begun to use a fraction of my true resources and powers yet, in anticipation of the undoubtedly strong defenses and powerful Spellknights awaiting me deeper within your fortress. Is there any chance that you would offer your surrender, in order to accept my mercy, and my vow of protection for those who choose to accompany you?”
Despite my having said it several times already this battle, Triorgraiz asks, “And who the hell are you that should demand the surrender of one of the Ice of Rage’s mightiest fighting forces, in a party of only three?”
Attempting to hide my sharp inhalation, I realize that she hasn’t seen Luni yet, so we have even more aces up our sleeves. She is however layering spellwork, and I can’t grip her with my telekinesis to prevent her from doing so. I answer with my usual titling, though in a far more somber tone than my usual shout, “I’m Reggie Shellcracker, a Hero of the Order of the Onyx Dawn, an archmage Aliased Schism, and I am the Void Dragon Honoris Causa. I’ve slain and feasted on ancients, decimated entire strongholds, I wield The Four, and I am the spouse, the mate of Lady Kinzul of the Onyx Dawn. That is our son, Lil Shellcracker, Aliased Sun. That is our hound, Lucky Shellcracker, Aliased Hunter. Though I offer mercy at every engagement, so very few have accepted it. I won’t list the names of those who’ve defected by accepting my mercy, though I will say some have accepted, and are now under my protection, along with the rest of the residents of our home.”
When Whisper appears in the air near my heart, stopped once again by my magics, I snatch it out of the air, draw Frostburn, and slice where the neck of its wielder will be. Whisper annoyingly disappears, to rejoin the hand of its wielder. Still, in the blink of an eye, Whisper’s wielder appears, and is brought to their knees, clasping their neck with a bloody gurgle. I sheathe Frostburn, and pluck Whisper from their dying grasp, pocketing it in Chuck’s extradimensional mini-bag full of cheese. Sighing, I motion at the futile effort of an assassin gifted with a powerful artifact in exasperation.
Deciding to take some recompense for the interruption, I motion for Lucky to avail himself of the highly-enchanted armor on Triorgraiz’s downed mount. I can tell there’s enchantments related to immunities upon it, mental effects like fear specifically. If I’m right, with that armor Lucky and anyone riding him, and possibly anyone standing really close to him, might be immune to fear effects, like dragonfright.
The cold calculation that Triorgraiz views me with shows that she’s even still as of yet, trying to determine her odds of subduing or slaying me and mine. I shake my head sadly, and begin to draw my blade once more, far more slowly, purposefully, like a countdown clock to doom. If she won’t even at least try to speak, to plead terms, then this is as futile as Whisper’s wielder’s attack was. When she sighs, and places her hands forward placatingly, I raise a brow, pausing my drawing of Frostburn. When she flicks her glance to it, I let it drop back into its sheathe, and float myself into a lotus position in front of her.
Gnawing my lip, I try not to react as I hear Lil grumbling about just getting back to fighting. He’s the one that suggested I try one last time. Triorgraiz starts questioningly, “What does surrender to a Hero of the Onyx Dawn look like for a devotee of the Ice of Rage?”
Drawing a deep breath, and passing it through puffed cheeks, I worry that I’m being stalled for time. I’m not oblivious to the fact that a gjallahorn had been blown in staccato blasts earlier in our fight. Still, I have to try. My response is of course, “To accept either shelter, temporary imprisonment in our safest locations until we’re certain you won’t lash out at the peace-loving folks of our home. Or to accept exile to the Untamed Lands, or to prove in some way that you will stick to a vow of non-aggression, abandon following Terrorzin, and cease any raiding or pillaging or mistreatment of those weaker than you.”
The skeptically raised brow Triorgraiz flashes my way speaks plenty before her question, “That last one, how do you expect us to survive?”
Sighing, trying to hide a smile, and trying to prevent myself from chuckling, I answer, “I doubt you’d believe me, but the Onyx Dawn has created a system of magic with unparalleled sustainability. We could offer goods, rations, supplies as part of a peace treaty, and a guarantee of trade, for ongoing non-aggression.”
I shouldn’t be surprised when she literally spits as she spits out, “Too good to be true.”
Holding up a finger, I hold a note up in front of my goggles to get the attention of the security center operators. I want them to focus my outgoing scrying sensor from the security center, on the scrying sensor tied to the original shop in the vault. Hopefully someone is using it. Once I’m certain the view is available, and clear enough, and that the shop is being used, I toss my goggles towards Triorgraiz. Flicking my head, I indicate for her to look through them, even if she doesn’t want to wear them.
There’s only a moment’s hesitation as Triorgraiz confirms her own suspicions about the abilities of the object I’ve tossed her. Triorgraiz is a rather skilled sorceress, or Spellknight. She also makes note of the durability of the goggles, realizing I’ve just handed her legendary metal as if it was nothing. When she witnesses a transaction occur, I’d almost think we might be coming to an accord. Almost. If it weren’t for what arrived in response to the gjallahorn.