A Hanged Crow

The Crow's burning spear lanced straight through the center of the dusky skinned killer's chest, the follow up explosion from the cupped guard embedded in his chest cavity incinerated the organs in his torso. The light of the blast very briefly showed the bones within him as shadows against his reddened skin, before the blast shattered them and sent a spray of boiling gore across the room behind him. What was left of Lemoi's charred corpse sank to the ground, an expression of pain and fear now turned vacant on his face as a puddle of thick, burned blood pooled around him.

Fires curled around the splayed open edges of the gaping wound in the assassin’s chest, highlighting the clear absence of most of his lungs, his entire heart, and a good chunk of the muscles in his chest. The Crow didn't even glance at the body twice, his beaked mask already locked on the rest of us as our comrade's corpse smouldered at his feet. The plasmoid hydra of hands erupting from the stump of his right arm didn’t pause a moment in their assault as he adjusted his flesh and blood grip on his spear.

I didn’t even need Paranoia to trigger before I vanished from the spot, a burning spear shearing through the cloud of smoke left in my wake an instant after I disappeared. I had to duck under a flaming arm swinging at speeds comparable to a baseball bat in the hands of a professional on meth the moment I reformed; though, I could see he’d lashed out with a spiral of burning arms all around him, rather than targeting me specifically. I was relieved, lashing out like that meant he hadn’t predicted where I was teleporting to, just took a guess at my range and attacked everywhere within it. Which meant he either had experience fighting people with short range teleportation like mine, or he was quick enough on the uptake to adjust his tactics on the fly; either one was less than favorable for me, and I honestly couldn’t tell which was worse.

Fortunately, I wasn’t fighting alone. None of my allies were the Crow’s equal, but each and every thrown dagger or stone splitting whip-like strike from Roin’s garrotes he had to dodge was a piece of his attention stolen away from killing me. He didn’t give me a moment to focus on drawing upon the Blight even if I was willing to out myself as having it in front of these guys, but I managed to conjure up a handful of Painfyre in between ducking and dodging around whips of fire the madman’s ever questing spear.

I vanished in a puff of smoke once more, daring to reappear right between the black cloaked killer’s legs and roll behind him as his burning spear slammed into and dispersed the cloud I left behind. Fiery tentacles once more whipped around the man, but six daggers launched towards vital points from different angles forced him to rearrange them just long enough for me to launch a fist sized ball of pink fire at his back before I had to vanish once again.

Ninja Vanish +1

I didn’t even acknowledge the notification, sprinting in a zigzag pattern at a crouch away from the now howling plague doctor. Under normal circumstances, with his cloak in proper condition, I’m sure that piddly fireball would have splashed against the black feathers oh his uniform and achieved approximately fuck all. To my great surprise, the Crow managed to remain standing, even as his body was wracked with spasms.

His startling resilience did him no great service, merely enabling Roin's wires to slip over a board on the ceiling and wrap around his neck much like he'd done to the rabid man-shaped thing we'd killed only minutes before. Three thugs leapt forward with knives aimed at vital points while the rest hung back and threw daggers at his head.

The Crow managed to let out a wet snarl through the constriction around his throat, one ethereal hand clawing uselessly at the wires slowly cutting into the scraps of cloth around his neck. A whirl of other flaming tentacles managed to knock the thrown daggers off course before a few broke formation to intercept the killers daring enough to attack up close. Two of them retreated, but one particularly dextrous and brave thug dodged around the sweeping limbs, lunging forth to bring two daggers to bare; his bravery availed him little, the flexible fire constructs twisting unnaturally to converge on him from all around. He barely had time to scream before the fiery limbs tore into him, taking handfuls of ashes out with movements akin to a pack of eels ripping apart prey, leaving trails of burnt and blackened flesh as they writhed around him to hold him in place.

A noise somewhere between a gurgle and a growl escaped the plague doctor as the wires slowly pulled them upwards, their heavy boots slowly coming away from the ground as they dropped the ashen carcass of the brave melee combatant. Some parts of him were still recognizable as meat or bone, but what little wasn’t outright ashes was blackened beyond recognition. A few seemingly perfunctory strikes from the same limbs that killed him shattered what was left of the burnt husk of his body, scattering ashes into the air and drawing angry snarls from around the room.

With some breathing room attained, I conjured more painfyre to my hand; for a brief moment I considered infusing it with the Blight to ensure a kill, but I wasn't quite willing to reveal such a terrifying trump card. These thugs may technically be my allies, but the Blight was scary enough a threat that I wouldn't be surprised for a second if they turned on me for having anything to do with it (I certainly wouldn't be comfortable being near someone who could spray soul destroying Hellfire around either). Instead of taking that risk, I lobbed a normal but much larger blob of pink flames at the lynched plague doctor.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

An inhuman howl, truncated by jerks of the wires hanging them up from above, filled the room as the blob of rosy fire splashed across his back and seeped through the many cracks and tears in his uniform to find his only semi-human flesh beneath. He writhed on the line, his erratic movements causing the wires to wear a trench into the joist holding him up, sawdust raining down and occasionally disappearing in a flash of flame when one of his flailing fire arms brushed a cloud of it. Roin grit his teeth, taking the wires in both hands and wrenching back to drag the burning bird-themed killer fully off his feet and into the air.

Growling like a drowning animal, the slowly suffocating militant germaphobe managed to shift his only flesh and blood hand on his spear despite the agony driven spasms wracking his body and swung it roughly at the cords above him. The red hot blade clanged against one of the wires, visibly fraying but not quite slicing through the metal string. I grit my teeth, watching a steady rain of daggers knocked off course by flailing limbs; no one had the balls to get close to the whirlwind of fire after what happened to the last guy.

Another swing frayed the thin wire even more, though Roin released his left hand from supporting the existing wires to sending out two more wires to reinforce them. His quick thinking came just in time, the new wires wrapping into place only a moment before the feathered zealot’s spear sheared through the first wire. Even so, a grimace spread across my face; we had him in the ropes, but Observe told a less than pleasant story: despite the wires holding him a lift by his throat, he had only taken a small amount of damage, single digits.

He jerked downwards as the wire he'd been chopping at snapped, but the new wires caught him before his feet could touch the ground and pulled him back up. His burning limbs lashed about, swiping through the wires with no apparent effect even as they left charred scores on the floor and ceiling. Three limbs diverted towards where Roin was standing halfway out the door to the first room, the rest kept focusing on defense and trying seemingly ineffectually to heat up the wires to make his slashing spear more effective. I could almost feel the frustrated desperation start to build in the lynched man, and it was only because I was paying such close attention that I noticed his next move so quickly.

Slowly, the flames jutting from the ruined base of his shoulder began to fade from bright orange to a duller, somehow tangibly more sinister crimson flame. A familiar crimson flame, one that sent shivers down my spine and would have had me in a cold sweat were I physically capable of it; Hellfire, he'd infused his fiery prosthetics with soul devouring Hellfire!

If I wasn't so terrified, I'd have been impressed that he managed to do anything other than writhe aimlessly, wreathed in what the system assured me was the most agonizing thing one can experience. I wasn't exactly one to talk about utilizing soul destroying weapons, but that didn’t mean I was A-okay with them being used against me!

The moment the red flames extended far enough down the limbs to reach the wires holding him up, the difference in raw power was visible. Where before the fiery limbs had seemed to barely warm the cords, now they began to heat up and visibly glow within seconds. The wires were starting to thin without him even swinging for them, though I noted the heat didn't seem to spread much (and Roin showed no signs of discomfort).

An expression I hoped looked grimly determined instead of terrified for my all too mortal soul stretching across my face, I decided to go for a probably rather reckless desperate gamble. With my eyes locked on the wildly flailing and jerking anti-disease crusader (and my attention mostly taken by the slowly melting wires holding him in the air), I began attempting to form a small handful of Painfyre into the vague shape of the rune for Water. My first instinct had been to go for Fire, but given how liberally the man threw the stuff around I doubted I'd do anything but help him by adding more of it to the equation.

Whether my fledgling attempt would have worked or not, I didn't get the time to find out; a single quick swipe of the black feather-coated maniac's spear sheared clean through the weakened wires, allowing him to drop to his feet with an audible thud that stole my attention and ruined what little progress I'd made. He staggered slightly, still futilely scratching at the wires looped around his neck; they were no longer being actively pulled taut, but they were still tightly bound around the warrior's esophagus. A hail of daggers sought to take advantage of his off balance state, but his hellfire infused prosthetics formed a tornado of crimson flame around him in an instant.

The fire tornado didn’t even settle before the sound of an explosion reached my ears, and the raven clad killer erupted through the wall of flames, trailing fire like a rocket. He crossed the room in an instant, the echoing boom of his destructive transportation reaching me ears a second after his spear slammed into the ground where Roin stood a moment before, the lanky strangler’s quick instincts allowing him to avoid death by a half-centimeter. The wire wielder threw himself away from the impact zone just barely in time to avoid the follow up explosion, jagged, half-molten stone burning holes in his cloak.

Zildan’s single visible eye blazed with the same red fire still slowly creeping down his many flaming limbs, the unnatural aura of fury radiating off him seeming to stoke the flames in pulsating waves. He leaned back, Roin's dagger passing under his beak within an inch of his throat. With my (probably ill advised) rune ruined and time no longer on my side, I took the opportunity to throw the handful of Painfyre at the plague doctor mid-dodge.

This time, a fiery limb moved to intercept the pink fire blob sailing towards the off balance purger of pestilence's face. The pink flames seemed to be absorbed into and swept away by the current of fire, the rose stain traveling down the limb to the hand before being expelled straight back in my direction. I vanished before the returned fire got close, not wanting to risk finding out the hard way if whatever flame redirection bullshit the pyromancer just pulled had made me vulnerable to my own conjured flames.

The moment I reappeared, I came face to face with three slowly reddening fists of flame curling towards me from three different angles.