I notice Adkre out of the corner of my eye, dashing around along rooftops and walls, abusing their ability to glide as if sticking to any surface. Further, they pull out a very-plain seeming harp, with very heavily enchanted strings. Recognizing the runework on one of the strings, as one of Tiktik’s most powerful spells, I dive at Zelshiz, crying out, “Get down!”
When Adkre plucks the string I’d been fretting about, I’m only just barely atop Zelshiz. Burying Zelshiz in my semi-amphibious bulk, I take the brunt of a massive storm of fire that sweeps across the courtyard, decimating the battlefield, injuring or slaying another few dozen Draconiacs. Huff, phew. That hurt quite a bit, even with my resistances. Thankfully I’m already recovering from it, and Zelshiz seems okay. Still, Adkre’s about to pluck the rest of those strings. They’re each once-per-day spells. If the others are in the same league of power, we could be in for trouble.
Suddenly, it seems like a wave of pink mist rolls across the battlefield, and I’m hugging Vorzog to me protectively, just like I should be. Wait, what? No. Kill Vorzog! Wait, no. Yes! Something’s wrong here. Yes, he’s an effing predator! Wait, Reggie, think. What’s the last thing you remember? Um, I leapt to protect Vorzog from a firestorm. Why would you do that? Uh. Huh. No, you’re right, that is weird. Try casting a small spell, and engaging that one runic clip that cleanses mind-altering effects. Oh, oh! Well, I mean. Vorzog is sitting here shivving and shanking me at the moment. Shouldn’t I do something about that first? No, focus! Alright, alright, no need to shout at me. Me.
Rattling my skull and shaking my head, I produce and empower the runes for prestidigitative legerdemain, in a futile effort to cleanse the clothing I’ve burst through. I owe Chuck a new outfit after this. The embolsterment runic clip helps coat me in a thin film that absorbs the next shanking incoming from—. That’s not Vorzog. The mind-cleansing clip frees my mind of the confusing illusion. Zelshiz is trying to shank me, Vorzog is still over there atop a pile of bones. Only now he’s giving a soliloquy. Funnily, the chaos in the rest of the courtyard is pretty much the same as it had been previously, before the pink confusion mist.
Uh oh, Adkre’s about to pluck another chord. Quickly, quicken another prestidigitative legerdemain in order to clean, cure, and embolster Zelshiz. Thank spoot for those runic clips being able to target allies. Zelshiz looks abashed, but my wounds are already starting to close, and I’ve got quite a bit of blubber and muscle protecting my innards in this giant landshark form. It definitely friggin’ hurt though.
What the hell did Adkre just cast? It looked vaguely like—. Like the weather control spell we used in Autumn Brook. Is the Worldstorm getting *closer*!? Holy effing crap. We’ve got to take Adkre out. Wait, where’d they—. One of the strings was invisibility. Crap! Oh come the hell on. Focus Reggie, focus. The aura only shows where they casted the invisibility spell, not where they currently are. It masks all the visible—. I know that doofus, shut up for a second. Take a deep whiff. Ugh, horf, bleugh. Why would you do that to me? Focus!
Alright, alright already. Taking another deep whiff, I begin to play back the day in my mind, the last few minutes anyway. Diving into the non, into the absence of time, I begin developing scent profiles for everything and everyone around me since the point at which I became a hybridized chimaeric landshark lycanthrope. Adkre was nearby. Their scent has beta zed category fours, and quarrel zed category unknowns. That’s incredibly distinctive. Hell, if nothing else, the scent that screws with my brain like knowledge of an eldritch horror lets me know I’m going in the right direction. Alright, back to reality.
Apologizing to my new ally, I hiss, “I’ve got to stop Adkre, I can smell where they went, but if we don’t take them down in the next minute, everyone’s going to die when the Worldstorm drops down atop us!”
When Zelshiz’s eyes fly wide, and I direct their gaze upwards, they nod quickly in agreement. Zelshiz is staying on task to take on Vorzog, but hopefully they manage to remain safe for the moment. I leap to the top of the stables so that I can get a cleaner scent profile, away from the gore and musty bone-dust scents of the courtyard. Come on, come on, big whiff. Lighter gases should travel upwards. Then again, they’ve got crazy eldritch scent. Forget logic, just go with it. There. That direction. Plus, I can hear a slight whoosh, and something is disturbing ash, blowing bits of it in a more regular line than the rest of the breeze swirling about. That sound and motion must be Adkre’s weird hovering boot movement.
Adkre’s wary that I’ve returned, they might not realize that I can track them yet, but they’re becoming more cautious, and shutting up their constant self-arguing. I don’t have them pinned down yet, or even that great of an idea where they are, but I think I can herd them towards where I can corner them. Come on, tell me you’ve never wanted to rip up hunks of stone and chuck boulders around. You can’t, can you? Boulder fastballs that nearly atomize into stone dust spook the hell out of Adkre, I can tell. The effect is the one I’d hoped to have, driving them in the opposite direction of where I’m landing my tosses.
Gazing up, the Worldstorm is getting dangerously low. Gulping, I try to calculate how long it’s going to take to corner Adkre at this rate. Too long. Do I have anything else left in the tank? Friggin’ hell. No, unless you count the fire empowered-rune knife. I can’t even cast a fireball to enlarge with it, because I’ve got FFS out from the staff’s SP. Then again, I can layer down a massive cloud of gas. Then do that, doofus! I am already, I’m breathing, exhaling combustible gas. Also make sure to fan it in the direction in which I’m cornering Adkre. Duh. When I ignite it, if I toss the knife, heh, well, yeah. Fireworks ahoy matey.
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Anyway. This might be overkill, sorry Adkre, you’ve brought us too close to doom. I’ve loosed a massive cloud of gas below. I truly hope Lil’s been able to get all the wounded evacuated, because if Lil isn’t—. Okay, good. Lil can hear my thoughts. I need to keep Lil away from here, because even though balefire from a GSE shouldn’t hurt him, the fact that I’m coupling it with explosive gas, and an empowered-rune knife, might. Here goes.
Begin tossing the knife as I’m finishing the spell, and—. Fwoosh, boom goes the dynamite as I call out, “GSE Balefire!”
Wheeheeheehee. I’m so lucky this form has my resistances, and has a boatload of regeneration. I just cooked off half the dermis over my chest and face, and rocked myself with enough explosive force to crack my bones and send me flying all the way back to the center of the courtyard near the in-progress duel. I land on my back, groaning in pain as my bones begin to mend themselves, knitting slowly. My flesh regrows more quickly. The Worldstorm is no longer advancing, but it’s still hanging relatively low over the keep. I reckon that anyone in the top two floors is probably dying right about now. Well, people inside are dying if there are any sections at all that aren’t perfectly airtight at least.
I’m pretty certain that Adkre is likely dead, as a good eighth of the lesser domain is now aflame in balefire. Dusting myself off, I reorient myself on the chaos surrounding me. Vorzog is laughing maniacally, shouting something about pride of the Ice of Rage, alternatingly hissing out something in brain-melting Draconic. Zelshiz doesn’t appear to be doing all that well against him, in part because he keeps dancing away to reach down and claim wounded allies as new hellfire missiles.
It seems the death has to count as coming from Vorzog, or at least being in his grasp, or something similar, in order to trigger the skull’s ability. That’s one of the few downsides of the skull. I mean, the other is that he seems more and more like an addict while he’s literally succumbing to insanity the more he uses it. If he wasn’t insane already. Even while insane though, he continues to manage to utilize his mnemonic and craft runework. Oh gorram friggin’ hell.
Is that a—. Well, I don’t think we’re going to have many survivors left in the courtyard. Vorzog is opening the sort of portal that summons a meteor. Awe hell. This is going to friggin’ hurt. There’s no Teuila here to even shatter a good sized chunk out of it to prevent ourselves from being flattened. I know I’ll survive it, since I survived one long ago, well, two, well, one and a quarter, but it’s still going to suck.
Wait! I have a spell for that! Come on, come on, uh, ninety nine, down to ninety, times one and a half, a hundred thirty five—. Ultra quickened dispellation! Counterspell! No ninth tier magics for you you son of a suckering mrgrgr! Huff, huff, phew. Crap and a halfsack in a hat jack. Holy handgrenades budmutt.
Where, what, who—. That’s, that’s exhausting, and—. My eyes cross as I stagger side to side. That sort of adrenaline rush is, is, is—. Blinking ferociously, I try to come to my senses. Think, focus on something easy to get you to think. Arithmetic? Sure. Uh, three twenties, three tens, a forty, four forty-fives, and one one-thirty-five is uh, four-hundred forty-five SP used up. Wait, five forty-fives, so four-hundred ninety used up. Okay, good, focus. We have a task to complete. Gnawing on my enormous fishy lips, I glance at the adamantite goggles that are too small for my giant shark head to wear. I rather badly want to check in on Teuila. If her task is going anywhere near as chaotically crazy as mine—.
If it is, there’s nothing you can do about it til yours is done anyway. Her task is many, many miles from here. Huff. Sigh. I know you’re right, but still. Oh, look. Good, good. FFS is getting their icy walls back up. Many had been destroyed in the earlier fracas. Now she’s able to cut off groups of combatants from one another, and also deter Vorzog from being able to get to new victims, slowing his progress slightly.
Calling out a bit childishly, I ask, “Zelshiz, I hope you don’t take offense, but may I cut in? Vorzog, may I have this dance?”
Biting my lips, to prevent myself from laughing, shreds them with my enormous teeth. It’s too hilarious though when Zelshiz daintily takes my proffered hand in order to be twirled away, out of the reach of Vorzog’s next attack. I’m not used to this form’s combat capabilities, or really any sort of fighting style that I could put to use with it. Vorzog is hacking away at me, and I’m mostly just disrupting his footing, and the fulcrum or leverage of his swings with telekinesis. I’m occasionally landing solid jabs, slashes, and haymakers, but I’m not Teuila. Even this monstrously powerful form is barely disorienting Vorzog on occasion.
I recognize a footwork pattern employed by Ahliyui, one that I don’t know how to capitalize on because it’s so elegant, and Vorzog utilizes it to feint. As I’m reacting in the wrong direction, Vorzig swipes to my side, where apparently Zelshiz had returned in order to aid me. No! Okay, okay, they’re better armored, and were more prepared for the hit. Zelshiz is nowhere near as badly wounded as Triorgraiz was.
I’m, huff, just, huff, not good enough. I need to be trained to fight. I’m doing my best to follow the guidance of my danger wraps, but that’s mostly defensive, and even that, I’m far bulkier than I’m used to being. I waste tons of momentum, energy, and effort, attempting to follow the guidance of the danger wraps while still taking plenty of hits anyway. What I wouldn’t do for a few months off to learn everything at my disposal, all the spells and abilities from all the books, and to finish categorizing the magic items, and all that. Ugh. Keep dreaming Reggie. I know, I know. Ow, oh crap. I’m, koff. Run through my, koff, right lung. Of, koff, friggin’ course. Wh-what’s that magic traveling up his arm and blade?
My eyes flash wide, terrified as petrakinetic magic travels up the haft, hilt, crossguard, and blade of Vorzog’s broadsword. If, if I become a statue, and he shatters me, will this form regenerate? I built the forms to drop me to RS2 if they are bleeding out or have taken similar damage. If I’m a statue though, I’m not the organic me that the shapechanging is built around. Gulping, teary eyed with fear, I watch as the petrakinetic energy enters my chest. Yeah, this is going to hurt.