Ambuscade

I sent a little over half my thugs into the burnt out building, holding the rest back with myself to surround the ruins and make sure no one managed to escape. A small part of me wanted to be amongst those actually entering the building and confronting enemies, but I had more interest in not walking into a trap than I did in getting experience. Power isn't worth anything if you die getting it.

I watched with a carefully neutral expression as confident thugs swaggered into the smouldering ruins, keeping much of my attention on our surroundings just in case. It took slightly under two minutes before the shattered ruin rang out with violence. I took care to not allow a savage grin to spread across my face, though several of the men I kept outside scoffed or spat on the ground. The sound of steel on steel echoed through the smouldering heap, though not often or loud enough to suggest an organized assault. I wasn't quite sure what was going on in there, but at the very least something alive had confronted my forces.

A temptation to send in more thugs thrummed alongside my heartbeat, but I ignored it; I didn't have enough men to secure the perimeter and reinforce those already inside. I hadn't received any experience, but I also wasn't completely sure sending people to kill for me like this would truly grant any; hence, this experiment. My gaze wandered over the fifteen men standing around the half collapsed building, taking note of their varying expressions ranging from nervous to excited to angry.

I noted one of the rust coloured lizardmen grimace, checking his knife and applying some sort of oil. It wasn't hard to guess it to be some kind of venom, but curiosity led me where caution encouraged and I Observed it anyway.

Distilled Rattleback Venom: The hemotoxic venom of a Rattleback, distilled into a more potent form.

I raised an eyebrow, though my interest in acquiring such a thing was immediately shoved on the back burner as a vision of an arrow heading towards my head filled my mind. I was already dodging before what I was seeing fully registered, Rokharth having thoroughly taught me I wouldn't always have time to process Extreme Paranoia's visions.

I felt a cold wind on my snout as the arrow passed millimeters from my eyes even as I all but threw myself backwards; even more worryingly, I felt the feathered tail brush through my fur. The tail end of my paranoid hallucination of the former future barely registered in my mind, the image of the arrow I had just dodged lodging itself in my head swam hazily behind my eyes as I rolled backwards over uneven and filth coated cobblestone.

I had already vanished in a puff of odorless black smoke as fire began to pour out of my fading future self's eyes.

I hit the ground still rolling as I reappeared, a wave of fire and force licking at my heels and warming the oil on my tail. I knew better than to stand still just because I dodged one shot, so I didn't hesitate to Sprint full out in a zig zag heading anywhere but where I was. I knew cover was vital, even if explosives narrowed the definition of "cover" quite a bit, thus my haphazard run immediately turned to a sprint vaguely toward the enemy; the intact buildings near where the bastard was shooting from would be harder to hit from their angle.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the rust skinned lizard I noted earlier manage to snag an arrow out of mid-air, an impressive feat of hand-eye coordination and speed that earned him a brief moment to smirk before the arrow detonated. His arm was utterly shredded, fire and force turning his bones to splinters that shot through his twisting flesh; the jagged shrapnel ripped into his torso, carrying flames to his innards as a wave of force like the fist of an invisible titan caved in his chest in the split second before he was sent flying. I didn't bother watching where he landed, only idly making a mental note to see if any of his poisons had survived once the fight was over.

At the very least, this confirmed I don't get experience when my underlings are killed.

Explosions are rarely subtle things, and even for as mentally addled as many of them were, my borrowed thugs were not quite so dim as to fail to notice bombs going off around them; within moments yells and warnings were sounding off, but I paid them no mind. My thoughts were consumed by survival, my body moving erratically as my claws rent the earth to buy a little more speed; only the faintest flickers of a proper plan danced through my mind, and a number of less than vital observations were put on hold.

Sprint +1

Lesser details that, as I slid on my belly through a partially rotted out wall and hastily army crawled across filthy floorboards, bubbled up to the fore of my now slightly less preoccupied mind. Lesser details like just how quickly this ambush came; we had only been standing out here for a handful of minutes and none of this had been planned out before hand, how did this interloper even know we were here? How did a hostile force get into Burnpike territory almost as quickly as we did?

Unless he knew we were coming, or had been waiting for us.

I glanced about my temporary shelter, keeping low and avoiding even partially blocked angles between me and where I had guesstimated the bombastic bastard was shooting from. I didn't for a second assume he was acting alone, though the possibility of some random asshole deciding to murder a bunch of gangsters wasn't entirely implausible. More likely, he was working for whichever rival in the area this burnt building was set up to piss off and there were probably a couple dozen thugs in the wings; though, given the combat that erupted from the burnt out building we were investigating, it's possible those thugs had already engaged my men.

Part of me wondered why exactly this asshole had chosen to shoot at me first, and even more so why he hadn't continued to target me afterwards. If he had -correctly- picked me out as the field commander here, blasting apart my shelter and killing me should be a high priority. If, however, he hadn't singled me out in particular but was merely going for maximum casualties, I could see no reason why I would make the most enticing target. Then again, assuming people are thinking logically can be a dire mistake; he could very well have chosen randomly or used some sort of criteria that only made sense in his head. I simply didn't know enough to make a solid guess as to his motivations or methodology at this point.

I took a deep breath, watching the disturbed air send dust swirling through the dim light pouring from cracks in the walls and ceiling as my racing thoughts cycled down into something more sustainable. I had expected reprisal when I sent my forces in, but I had rather expected angry posturing and shouts before a brawl broke out, not a full on sneak assault from the get go. My eyes and Paranoia swept across the dilapidated building, noting it was likely some form of communal living space before it was abandoned very recently; though, that knowledge presently didn't help me very much.

I hadn't managed to see the fucker taking shots, but from the frequency of the explosions I could still hear it seemed he was shooting alone. I scrubbed myself down, killing my scent on the off chance it would help here as I listened carefully to the almost rhythmic explosions. My head very lightly impacted the inner wall behind me as I focused on my hearing, trying to tell how fast he was firing and, if I could, where he was shooting from. The timing was easy, approximately every two seconds an explosion rang out.

He's no crazy Dane, but that's probably better than I can do.

The explosions themselves weren't particularly powerful from what I had seen, slightly weaker than a grenade from back home if I had to guess… which I did. They also didn't appear to produce any shrapnel, seeming closer to incendiaries than frags. Still far more bang than I'd ever want to be hit with, but better than having some maniac machinegunning nukes at me.

My senses were stronger than they had ever been as a human, something that had taken some getting used to initially. That same heightening meant my ears were still faintly ringing from the shot that almost took my head off, but as I closed my eyes (trusting, begrudgingly, in my Paranoia to alert me to any imminent dangers) and focused on what my ears and the ears of the flies buzzing about me picked up just before each shot, such distractions faded quickly. I couldn't full on command the flies infesting me, but they seemed to grasp my intent and began to spread out around me as I focused on my expanded senses; a more than slightly disturbing occurrence, but one I didn't have time to gibber about at the moment.

I heard the building groaning and creaking around me, I heard the wounded screaming after every blast, I heard my heart pounding in my chest, I heard the maggots crawling about the tunnels throughout my body, but I ignored all of it. I focused on that brief span between each explosion, straining my twitching ears to pick up on-

There, a faint twang half a second before an explosion. I wasn't the best at identifying where sounds were coming from, but combined with briefly seeing the trajectory of the shots before, I had a solid guess where the sniping bastard was. Unsurprisingly, whoever had decided to take a shot at me had posted themselves at an elevated position, a little less than a fifty yards from the obvious false-flag trap I sent my men into.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

It was a rather predictable sniper's tactic, elevated positions are key to ranged combat after all. Though, the speed his arrows traveled was notable; from the sound of his bowstring compared to when the arrows actually hit, his shots must be flying nearly twice as fast as modern bows on Earth. Either he has some kind of skill or magic to make arrows fly faster or his bow is better than anything modern technology could create; either way, it's a worrying sign, but not a truly unexpected one.

I didn't immediately start sprinting towards the archer, knowing that if he detected my approach it would only take one snap shot to turn me into chunky salsa even through a wall. Given he hadn't tried to blow my cover to smithereens I could guess he didn't have any wallhacks, but I couldn't dismiss the idea that he could possess enhanced senses or something like my own Paranoia that could give me away. While there was nothing I could do about any form of limited omniscience save to prepare for any cover I had to be blown (quite literally, most likely), I could at least somewhat counter enhanced senses.

I killed my scent and activated Stealth, taking great care to step lightly and even then relying on the oil on my paw pads to reduce the kinetic energy imparted with every light step. To my own ears this combination made my movements silent, though I knew my heartbeat, breathing, and the disruption to the air moving in general caused where all things one could plausibly pick up on; unfortunately, other than holding my breath (something far too detrimental to bodily functions to do consistently or during combat), I'd simply have to live with these risks for now.

Normally I rather dislike densely packed cities, but for now the crowded nature of what passed for urban planning in this shithole allowed me to Vanish through a wall into a small alley (barely large enough for even my small frame to stand between the two crushed together buildings) and then poof right on into the next building without ever entering the shooter's line of sight. The second building wasn't much different than the first; dilapidated, filthy, and showing signs of recent habitation despite being empty. I gave the building a quick glance over for any threats or valuables before attempting to actively will the flies within me to assist in searching; it worked, to an extent, their alien senses carrying my sight beyond the reach of my eyes and Paranoia. However, they meandered quite a bit and prioritized rotting food and all the things filth eating vermin tend to like over my commands; it would seem I'd need practice before I could manipulate my parasitic inhabitants to a truly useful degree.

Regardless of my partial failure to utilize the writhing mass beneath my skin for reconnaissance, two seconds after entering I confirmed the bomb shooting bastard was not inside or on the roof of the building; not through anything I found within, but by noting the twang before each explosion was still too distant. Once more I strode silently to the wall closest to the sound, scoping the area beyond out with Paranoia; this time the neighboring building was close enough that I could Ninja Vanish directly inside it.

A small part of me wondered where exactly skills got their names as I utilized one with such a blatant reference to a history this world likely didn't have, but I put such thoughts aside for a less dangerous moment.

Almost as soon as I had entered the ill-maintained and graffiti coated building, I knew it was the right place; the faint twang I had been hunting rang out from directly above me. It was muffled by distance and the intervening wooden floors, yet clearer than it had been since I first heard it. I took as deep a breath as I could, sucking in air until my chest swelled and my lungs could take no more before holding it in; I didn't want the sound of my breathing to potentially give me away.

Skill Gained: Deep Breath

I nearly released my held breath in a sigh, questioning how exactly that qualified as a skill before putting the thought from my mind. I refreshed Scent Killer and Stealth just in case, stepping lightly and attempting to avoid haphazardly tossed about empty bottles of what I guessed to be alcohol and splintered wooden plates. I scaled the rickety looking but ultimately quite sturdy stairs as quickly as I could while maintaining stealth, giving not a second's thought to prioritizing not getting discovered over the lives of the nominally allied men surely dying with every arrow loosed.

Three flights of stairs that had likely seen better days before the last occupants were even born passed and I found myself without any obvious way to reach the roof; not that I'd have used any even if they were there, boobytrapping the entrance is an obvious tactic to anyone with a brain between their ears. At this point my lungs were burning uncomfortably, but I had held my breath longer than this under greater strain than a mere stairway before. With my breath held and my heart pounding, I slowly crept around the top floor until the edges of my Paranoia detected two leather clad legs. I could only see about six inches beneath the knees, but that was more than enough to tell me where he stood and which way he was facing.

A vicious grin tore across my maw as I slowly released the breath I'd held, noting the lack of reaction from the archer above me and taking it as evidence I could breathe easy… even though I resolved to breathe slowly and quietly regardless. I didn't have any reliable means of attacking through a floor, but luckily most people tend not to make civilian floors more than two feet thick. It took some effort to scale the rough brick walls without making any noise but after spending hours upon hours clinging to oil slicked sheer walls, rough, crack laden brick was hardly a challenge to climb.

The fact Rokharth’s torturous training was actually effective was not a thought I intended to dwell on over much.

Cling +1

Stealth +1

My claws slid soundlessly into the black mortar between the bricks making up the ceiling, the strength of my arms alone carrying me across the lightly vaulted structure until I was directly behind the archer. At this distance I could see the furious expression on his strangely tear-stricken face through my Paranoia, though I didn't truly care why he had decided to attack; all those tears meant to me was that he was emotionally off balance and thus mentally weakened. A less wary man may have teleported to the roof and attacked immediately, but I highly doubted the bastard would be so accommodating as to stand still and let me shank him; not without some encouragement anyway.

I carefully shifted my weight fully to my left arm as I drew my blade and willed pink fire to burst to life around my left hand in the same moment, waiting not an instant more before I once again vanished. The darkness of the room prevented a puff of smoke from being left behind, leaving only the drifting dust disturbed by my sudden absence as testament to my disappearance.

Ninja Vanish +1

In the brief instant it took for my senses to adjust to my sudden spatial change I was already throwing the ball of iridescent magenta flame where I knew my target stood. The very first thing my adjusted senses took in was the sight of the man whirling around and throwing his bow into the path of the fire in the same smooth move, his wide and bloodshot eyes staring into mine with a frenzied hatred that felt somewhat overblown for the situation as I understood it; assassins aren't normally this emotional, after all. His decision to sacrifice his bow left him without a weapon in hand, though it did successfully keep the lustful blaze from tasting his skin.

I didn't waste a moment lamenting my failed sneak attack, lunging forward with my blade aimed for his neck. He didn't even bother drawing the blade at his hip, swatting aside my thrust with one forearm in a blur of motion and driving his other fist into my gut with all the force of a cannonball.

HP -212

Only a snap decision to activate Bones Of Mist kept my ribs and spine from being utterly shattered; even partially dispersed by Like Sand, the sheer force behind the blow almost pulverized my organs and I knew my torso was now more bruise than flesh. Driven by hateful spite, I aimed the spray of vomit driven up my throat from my now flattened stomach directly into the bastard's face, sending bile, blood, and maggots splattering into his wide eyes and snarling mouth.

Skill Gained: Bile Shot

The maggots that had survived their sudden and violent relocation didn't waste a moment, burrowing into the warm flesh beneath them with gleeful abandon. For a moment the man didn't even seem to notice, the anesthetic venom in the wriggling worms every bite delaying the realization of what they were doing as he tossed me aside with a furious growl. A small, vindictive grin spread across my now blood stained teeth even as I rolled across the ground (barely managing not to impale myself as I kept a death grip on my dagger the whole way); I could feel the primitive, hungry curiosity of the maggots feasting upon the man's flesh and attempted to will them to eat to their hearts' content.

I nearly bounced off the edge of the roof, just barely managing to snag the lip of the gutter before I could plummet to the ground thirty feet below. Despite the pain that surged through me from my pulped intestines, I managed to scramble back up onto the rough brick roof just in time to see the man furiously attempting to wipe the vomit from his pale face with his sleeve. I sent my thanks to the swarm within me as they pumped their numbing venom into my wounds, welcoming the familiar tingling tide that washed away the agony.

I could practically taste the moment his mild annoyance turned to confusion and fear as he realized his vision wasn't clearing up despite having thoroughly wiped the vile fluids from his face. I watched him gingerly feeling at his face as I approached, shaky fingers ghosting over small holes and hesitantly touching where his eyes should be before recoiling in horror when his questing digits found not the soft orbs that should be there but wriggling maggots joyfully feasting upon the remnants of his optic nerves.

He gave an agonized roar like a dying bull moose, the sound warped by the maggots gnawing on his numbed tongue and oscillating between abject fury and utter, depthless horror so quickly the two emotions blended together like oil and water in a whirlpool. He fell to his knees, short nails gouging deep furrows into his numb face, each weeping blood that ran in thin rivers down his arms and chest; I doubted he could feel any of it through the anesthetic venom and caustic despair consuming his thoughts.

While a part of me wanted to chuckle maliciously to really drive in the success of my unexpected riposte, I was wary enough of him lashing out at the sound to restrain myself to a victorious smirk as I sprinted across the uneven brickwork. I vaguely heard him mumble something unintelligible around a mouth full of blood and larvae, but whatever it was he meant to say was silenced instantly as I drove my blade up through his carotid and into his brain, activating Vital Strike and Throat Ripper to make extra sure the blow was lethal.

Human "Ashwinder Of The South Side Serpents" Slain, +3217 Exp.

You Have Leveled Up! +100 Stat Points (x32)

Only now, with the enemy dead, did I allow a loud and victorious cackle to slip through my teeth.