No sooner had Helmund’s torch ignited the waiting patch of oil, that the beetles in the immediate vicinity let out a sharp clicking noise that quickly grew louder by the moment. Like a ripple in a pond, the devourers attention shifted from simply consuming whatever was closest to them to surging toward the growing flames.
Stunned, Glade and the others watched in fascination as the horrific bugs began piling one atop the other in an effort to smother the flames.
“By the Mother,” Gent hissed, taking a step back. “I was not expecting that!”
“They attack whatever they see as a threat,” Riya said with a grim tone as she stared out across the seething swarm.
“We’ve been exterminating the blasted crawlers since sundown. Why didn’t they attack in force then?” Bragden stammered, his eyes wide with shock as he kept glancing at the ground for any of the beetles.
“Because taking a devourer out one at a time isn’t a threat to the nest as a whole, whereas fire is,” Riya explained. “But now that we’ve started, we’ll soon see the drawbacks.”
“Like?” Glade asked leadingly as he split his attention between the beetles and the direction their guests were hiding.
“You’ve noticed that they’ve stopped causally feeding and instead are outright attacking?” She asked.
At the others affirmative nod’s, she continued.
“Well, at this point they believe the nest is under threat, which means they will attack anything and everything that might possibly be a danger to them. There is a bit of scholarly debate about what the devourers do and do not consider threats at this point,” Riya continued. “But it is well documented that in the next few seconds the entire nest will have pulled into a frenzy.”
Helmund lit another patch of oil, which resulted in both agitating and drawing the beetles attention even further.
“And why are we just hearing about this now?” Kedryn asked, his voice definitely more strained than it had been before.
A raucous shout sounded from beyond the hill to the north, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Because our job isn’t to deal with them,” Glade interjected. “Eyes up! They’re coming!”
No sooner had he broadcast the warning than a hoard of dark silhouettes came boiling over the hill, running toward them with squeals of excitement. Unable to see any clear details under the light of two half moons, Glade used his aura sense to get an idea what they were facing..
Ratkin, Level 3
Attunements: None
Health: 130/130
Mana: 60/60
Stamina: 100/110
Status: Wild Abandon
“Ratkin!” Cirea spat out like the word itself was a curse before settling into a ready stance. “They’re weak and easy to kill in small numbers, but can swarm just like goblins when in larger groups. You don’t want to be surrounded by them, I can tell you that.”
“Then there be no better time like the present to begin thinning the slagging swarm, now is there?” Gent cried, firing his double crossbow into the onrushing mob.
Glade watched carefully as more and more ratkin charged over the hill. He had initially counted around 30 minds, but they had been on the very edge of his perception. Which meant there were more than he had originally thought.
Slowing his perception of time, he tried to get an accurate count before he began spamming his psychic attack against the oncoming hoard.
“There are more than 50 ratkin!” Glade called out, dropping his time dilation skill so he could briefly use one of his telepathic links to send a quick message.
“I done thought you said there were only 30 or so!” Bragden roared. “Did ye forget how to count?”
“They were on the edge of my range, be grateful I could detect any at all!” Glade roared back, focusing his efforts on blasting the ratkin with his psychic attacks. .
You have attacked a Ratkin with a weak psychic attack and inflicted 25 points of metaphysical damage and 5 points of physical damage. The Ratkin is stunned for the next 250 seconds (10 seconds for every point of metaphysical damage).
You have attacked a Ratkin with a weak psychic attack and inflicted 28 points of metaphysical damage and 7 points of physical damage. The Ratkin is stunned for the next 280 seconds (10 seconds for every point of metaphysical damage).
Glade watched in satisfaction as two of the lead ratkin dropped to the ground, which in turn disrupted those behind. Before he could move onto the next two, Bragden once again started yelling at him.
“If you could only detect some o’ the slagging ratskins from where you were, then why under the name o’ the Mother didn’t ye walk the extra 50 feet to get an accurate count?!” Bragden snarled.
“Because I was helping with the devourers!” Glade yelled back, though now that he thought about it, it would have made so much more sense if he actually had moved a bit closer. Though, he wasn’t going to tell that to Bragden.
“Will the two of you stop arguing like two little boys and focus!?” Cirea growled. “It looks like they’re still running straight toward the trenches. Hopefully, they’re dumb enough not to stop, though don’t fancy relying on that to actually happen.”
Frustrated at his own stupidity, Glade continued to spam his psychic attacks.
You have attacked a Ratkin with a weak psychic attack and inflicted 31 points of metaphysical damage and 9 points of physical damage. The Ratkin is stunned for the next 310 seconds (10 seconds for every point of metaphysical damage).
It was obvious that these creatures were more susceptible to his mental attacks than others he had encountered.
Just as he was targeting the next ratkin in line, a scream drew Glade’s attention.
“Get them off! Get them off!”
Glancing back, Glade saw one of the younger workers who had helped load the wagons earlier that morning was now swinging his torch wildly at the ground with one arm while trying desperately to brush off little black specks that were crawling up his legs with the other.
“By the Adjudicators!” he heard Grant curse from across the way. “Who was supposed to be watching Rory?! He’s too close to the swarm!”
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“They’re frenzying!” someone else cried, dropping his own torch and running. Others began to back away as they watched the young man go down to one knee, crying out frantically for help.
“Stand your ground!” Helmund shouted, a single wave of invisible force pulsing off of him. When it hit Glade, it was as if a wellspring of strength and focus filled him.
You have been buffed by the spell Rallying Cry. +5 to courage and +2 to strength for all designated persons within a 100 foot radius.
“Adjudicators take me!” Cirea cursed, drawing Glade’s attention back to the charging ratkin. “They’re coming this way!”
Sure enough, the entire mob had turned away from the trenches and were running full tilt toward them.
“I’ll go help Rory!” Kedryn called, taking a step toward the screaming boy behind them.
“Stand where you are!” Cirea cried, her shoulders tensing. “He’s already gone!”
“But I can blow off the devourers…” Kedryn began.
“Cirea’s right, Kid,” Glade growled, the light in his soul dimming just a little more by voicing what he already knew aloud. He may not have known the boy, but nobody deserved to go out like that.
“No she’s not!” someone growled from behind, but it wasn’t Kedryn who Glade had expected to voice a complaint. It was Riya.
Glade turned in time to see a nimbus of light burst around Riya like a living flame as she took off at a run toward the downed boy.
“What does the slagging elf think she’s doing!?” Gent shouted, firing his rearmed crossbow into the oncoming mob.
“Kedryn! Bragden! Go bring her back!” Glade snapped, choosing the only two who could possibly make a difference before turning his attention back to the charging ratkin .
“Foolish,” Cirea called out as she braced herself. “Brave, but foolish.”
A rush of heat and flame flared as Hemund’s men threw more oil onto the swarm, followed quickly by small explosions that Glade hoped was Bragen’s work.
“They’ll pull her out,” Glade said, hoping that he was right as he brought began again to latch his mind onto one ratkin after another. First one, then two, then more began dropping in the front of the charging mob, each one trampled by those from behind.
As the creatures closed the gap, Glade was able to finally make out that they did indeed look exactly like overgrown rats that ran on two legs instead of four. Most wore what would be generously called rags, while one in particular looked to be wearing some sort of patchy leather armor with pieces of tattered chain mail hanging off.
“Bring Jorn Jorn glory!” it screamed, holding out its wooden spear as it led the charge.
The other ratkin squealed in excitement, picking up the pace.
You have attacked a Ratkin Chief with a weak psychic attack and inflicted 19 points of metaphysical damage and 3 points of physical damage. The Ratkin Chief is stunned for the next 190 seconds (10 seconds for every point of metaphysical damage).
Glade took some small pleasure in watching the ratkin chief collapse to the ground, those behind doing their best to dodge out of the way.
The unexpected loss of their leader created a wave of confusion within the remaining ratkin, who slowed their sprint even though they were within 20 yards of each other.
“Thanks for stalling them for me!” Cirea called, before taking a deep breath and shouting a hair raising, heart stopping roar into the faltering warband.
You have been exposed to Stunning Shout! All enemies within the area of effect without corporeal or astral attunements have a +25% chance of being paralyzed.
They might have had a chance with their chief falling, but once Cirea used her stunning shout ability it was all but over.
As one, the mob stalled, all forty or so of the one’s left staring at them in fear.
“Just how I like them,” Cirea laughed, readying to charge.
“You may want to hold for just a moment,” Glade said, feeling a rumble coming from the east. “Our backup is finally here.”
“They’re coming now?” Cirea asked with a hint of dismay. “Now that we’ve lined them all up and everything?”
“Lun’Svet wants me to tell you that it's all about timing,” Glade chuckled, relaying the horse lord’s words the moment it charged over the hill, the rest of the camp’s horses following right behind. Ember was bouncing up and down in his mind with excitement, unable to contain himself both of them watched the majestic Gen’Sheld lead the pack. Its moonlit mane was practically aglow under the night’s sky, highlighting the dark frame just enough to make it look like a raging spirit.
Several ratkins squealed in terror, their fear successfully breaking through Cirea’s paralyzing shout so they could turn and run.
In seconds, Lun’Svet and the rest of the horses were rolling over the would-be attackers like a tidal wave. The sounds of screaming ratkin filled the night air as the horses passed by, trampling everything in their wake. A small number of ratkin had managed to stay out of the way, but most lay on the ground broken and bleeding.
“Do we need to make another pass?” Lun’Svet projected into Glade’s mind.
“No, I think we’ve got it from here,” Glade shot back, rushing forward with Cirea and Gent, his knives drawn. “Thanks for your help!”
“The pleasure was mine,” Lun’Svet sent back, slowing the group of horses to a trot before wheeling them back around toward camp.
The next thing he knew, Cirea had leapt 20 feet, crashing into the survivor’s ranks like battering ram before sweeping out her greatsword in large swaths.
Gent fired his crossbow again, taking down two of the ones running away. Glade simply made sure that both were covered, easily taking down any that got too close while taking down the other runners with psychic attacks.
It took them all of 5 minutes to mop up the remaining ratkin.
“Should we interrogate any of ‘em?” Gent asked, reloading his crossbow.
“Not sure if there are any left who can speak coherently,” Glade said, which was true. Most of the ratkin appeared to be barely more than beasts. “I’m more worried about rebirths.”
“Disgusting creatures!” Cirea snapped, stomping down on a persistent ratkin who was trying to bite her leg. “They’re bites are usually filled with disease and rot, so watch out! But I wouldn’t worry too much about any of them coming back. Most don’t have brands seeing as they’re not sentient enough. And those that do usually become their shamans because of their higher intellect.”
“So the chances that one of these will have a rebirth is…”
“Low,” Cirea said, kicking another ratkin who was trying to snap at her from the ground. The idiot creature went sailing over the hill, its chest caved in from the powerful kick. “But even if they did come back, I doubt we would learn anything of value even if they could talk. They probably just tried to lay an ambush for food. Ratkin eat pretty much anything.”
“Do you think they were responsible for the devourers?” Glade asked.
“Not a chance,” Cirea replied. “It would take a special kind of maniac to do something like that. Someone who was equal parts intelligent and crazy. No, my guess is that the ratkin stumbled upon the nest and decided to take advantage of it.”
“Speaking o’ the nest,” Gent said, shouldering his crossbow. “Shouldn’t we be getting back to help the others?”
“I’d rather face ratkin,” Cirea sighed, putting another one out of its misery. “Still, the sooner we go and help the sooner we can go to bed.”
After taking a few more moments to end any stragglers which Glade pointed out easily enough, they turned back to the now increasing bonfire. What they found made facing the ratkin look easy.
The surrounding area was mostly in flames, the grass having caught easily enough. Wherever there was oil the fire was strongest. But what really surprised them was how the group were plugging up the gaps in the perimeter.
Riya stood in front of one gap, her celestial aura blazing bright. Not a single beetle drew near, preferring instead to continue to pile on top of each other.
Kedryn stood at another gap, blasting the swarm of beetles in front of him back with his wind gusts, which had the added benefit of fanning the flames.
Both looked utterly exhausted.
Helmund and Grant were directing those with the remainder of their oil to do what they could to help.
There was a small explosion in the center of the swarm, drawing their attention.
“Stop standing around!” Bragden yelled. “We’ve got some bugs to kill!”