It took Sam half a second to recover and slap the Identify button in his glasses menu. By that time, the necrohounds had already covered a third of the distance between themselves and Sam’s little group. The spell took hold and time dilated, slowing everything to an imperceptible crawl as the familiar text scroll started across the glasses.

Necrohound, Level 25

Guard Creature - Country Of Xeladre

Type: Canine

Subtype: Undead

HP: 750

MP: 200

Description:

Uh-oh, someone left the gate open on Scrappy’s pen again. Better make sure he likes you. (Hint: he doesn’t like you.)

Necrohounds are the literal unholy union of an undead canine and a hunter spirit from beyond the veil. These suckers are to normal undead what a velociraptor is to a chicken; bigger, meaner, slightly dumber, and not nearly as delicious. They are often used as prison guards in the slightly less savory nations, or as trackers and hunters in the really less savory nations.

Watch out when you see these scary mothers, even when they’re alone. Because they are used almost exclusively as guards and hunters, they never work by themselves. You’ve got maybe 90 seconds before this thing’s handlers catch up with it, and then you’re double-boned with cheese and mustard.

Don’t bother running. You won’t even get far enough to die tired.

Combat Data:

Claw attack x 2, +50% damage vs. unarmored targets

Bite attack: Poison damage v. unarmored targets.

Vile Breath: Poison and Corruption damage over time. Filtration spells/equipment negates

Dread Gaze: Freeze opponents in place. Level dependent.

Howl Of The Damned: Psychic Damage over time.

Vulnerabilities: Holy, Fire, Bludgeoning, The left front leg on the left one is damaged already from a fall it took earlier. Give it a solid whack and it’ll collapse. The one on the right has a broken rib just below it’s right foreleg.

Good luck boyo.

Sam blinked as that last bit scrolled by. It sounded different from the usual Identify stats. It sounded… Familiar. But before he could give it any extra thought, the spell ended and the time dilation effect went with it.

“Breath and bite are poison, don’t stare it in the eye,” Sam called as the necrohounds closed. “Hard and fast. We’ve got sixty seconds.”

The Necrohounds broke from each other just before they reached the party. The one on the left lunged at Sally, the one on the right went straight for Sam. He managed to dodge out of the way and swung at its flank as it rocketed past. The sickle-sword in his grip felt awkward and unwieldy, and he found himself desperately wishing for a good solid hammer or axe. But this was what he had, and it would suffice. He hoped.

The fight was sharp and ugly. The Necrohounds were fast, tough, and vicious. Sam dodged a bite, spun away from a claw, and hacked at a skeletal foreleg until it shattered. He heard a crunch of breaking bone behind him, and turned to see Sally pounding the other necrohound with wild haymakers that knocked it about like a toy.

Pearl darted in, her illusory beak glowing red as Staplecutter made itself known. The enchanted sword dug furrows into the the necrohounds bones. Then she was spinning through the air, knocked away by a wild claw slash. Sam dove in, and yelped as a claw scored his chest, leaving behind a gash that started to burn like fire.

He only caught flashes now. Sally taking a bite on her arm that skidded off and sparked. Pearl darting back in and driving Staplecutter deep into the eye sockets of the other necrohound. His own feet pounding forward, launching him in a jump, his boot slamming into Staplecutter’s pommel hard enough to drive it out the back of the necrohound’s skull.

And just like that, it was over. Sally grunted and dropped the corpse of her necrohound next to the one that Sam had managed to kill with Pearl’s blade. Cora had put herself between Giichi and the enemy, her spear out and ready but mercifully unused. Blood dripped onto the pavement from a trio of slash marks on Sam’s chest that had gone right through his shirt and into his flesh.

The burning sensation from the wound was starting to spread, and Sam felt his breathing become labored in his chest. Warning notifications flashed at him in his display, and his health bar turned green and began to tick down.

Poison. And it was a nasty one. He could feel it sliding through more and more of his body even as he stood there breathing heavy.

“Sam, you’re hurt!” Cora was there, her hands ghosting over his body, her eyes glued to the wounds.

“Yeah,” he grunted in agreement. “Don’t have time to be hurt though. We got to get away from here before their handlers show up. Illusions won’t help if they find us like this.”

“Lean on me,” Cora commanded, looping one of Sam’s arms around her shoulder and heaving him upright. “We’ll get you somewhere safe, and then–Sam, you’re poisoned!”

That got everyone’s attention. Sam swallowed, trying to ignore how the edges of his vision were starting to turn dark. His health bar was almost at half, now, and showed no signs of stopping.

“Yeah. Careless,” he grunted. Talking was becoming difficult. “Gotta get out of sight.”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Shut up.” Cora pressed her palm against his chest. “Your heart is palpitating, and you’re burning up. How bad is it?”

Sam glanced at the warning stacking up in his display. “Bad,” he said.

And as the word passed his lips, it brought with it a familiar realization. He wasn’t immortal anymore. If this poison killed him, and he had a feeling that it might just be enough to get past the tattoo Giichi had put on him…

It occurred to him that he might die. For real. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and not just from his rising inner temperature. He swallowed past a suddenly-dry mouth and tried to concentrate.

It didn’t work.

He felt himself starting to fall, only to be grabbed by Sally’s huge hands and lowered gently to the cobbles. He blinked and tried to figure out what exactly had happened to his balance, but couldn’t think past the thick fog that was gathering in his head. His chest was on fire, and his limbs were pricking like a thousand pixies with spears were stabbing him. He labored for every breath. A warning flashed in the center of his vision, warning him that his health was dangerously low.

This couldn’t be it. To come this far? To have survived everything he’d survived, only to fall to some random poison from a random mob in a random town? It wasn’t fair. It couldn’t be happening.

No mana. No potions. No healer.

Shit. This is it, isn’t it?

He didn’t even have the message system. He couldn’t call out to Ma and Pop. Couldn’t tell Nat to be good, couldn’t tell Char to look after the dungeon, couldn’t tell Araxes to get his people out safe.

He couldn’t even tell Marie he forgave her.

I’m sorry everyone. I tried. I really did.

He heard voices, filled with worry. Heard someone call his name. Was it his name? He wasn’t sure any more. He opened his eyes. When had he closed them? Cora’s face was above him, pretty features twisted into a mask of fear. He felt the cool living-metal feel of her hand as it planted against his chest, and saw her lips move in a chant. A spell. She was casting a spell. Something sparked in his mind, and he opened his mouth to remind her that her mana was gone, she shouldn’t be wasting her time.

and whispered a series of words that Sam recognized as a spell. He didn’t have the heart to remind her that she was out of mana, and whatever she was trying–

Magic flared around Cora’s spread fingers, and warmth crashed into his chest like a comet. He sucked in a a surprised breath as light and heat speared through his body, tracking down and eliminating every last vestige of the necrotic poison. He coughed, coughed again, sat up, and spat out a mouthful of something black and disgusting that hissed when it hit the ground.

You have been targeted by an Antidoting On You spell. Someone must like you a lot! All toxins purged.

“Wha–?” he started to say, then Cora’s other hand planted itself across his mouth.

“Shut up,” she whispered in as harsh a voice as he had ever heard her use. Then the pressure across his lips was gone, and Cora stood up, her illusory features schooling themselves into something icy and angry.

“They went that way!” she called, pointing towards the other end of the alley.

Sam turned wordlessly and stared at the armed men and women rushing up the alleyway towards them. Some of them wore official looking uniforms, while others were obviously just armed and enthusiastic citizenry. No Necrohounds in this batch, thank the heavens.

“What happened here,” demanded a large man with a moustache and a uniform. The moustache, Sam thought in a giddy kind of high, was the more impressive of the two.

“What does it look like, fool?” The voice was Cora’s, but the icy disdain in her tone was utterly alien to Sam’s ears. “We were hunting your damnable escapees. We came upon them engaged with your creatures–I trust they are yours?” she asked, gesturing curtly at the destroyed necrohounds. “We tried to intervene, but they nearly destroyed my ma—bone servant. If not for the quick actions of my husband’s bodyguard,” she waved a hand at the ogre illusion that was Sally, “we might all have been slain! I thought they were supposed to be unarmed and nearly harmless!”

“Wasn’t hard, miss,” Sally rumbled in her androgynous voice. “Hurt the little one, figured the others’d take off.”

The moustache slowed and peered suspiciously, first at Sally, then Cora, then at Sam. Sam forced himself to stay still and return the gaze with an utterly blank expression he hoped looked right on a skeleton’s face. The suspicious eyes slid off of him and onto the two necrohound corpses.

“Kinda funny,” the moustache said, frowning, “you coming out without a scratch from a fight that put down my two best hounds.”

Sam’s grip tightened on the sickle-sword. There were almost two dozen armed men and women in the alley now, and he could hear sounds of pursuit and search coming from all kinds of different directions. If they had to fight… Well. If they had to fight, so be it. But it was bad odds. Still, he took a slow breath, steadying himself and running through the options. He’d hit Moustache first, as hard as he could. Then he’d cut across and slash a reedy looking guy with a long spear standing next to him. Grab the spear and use it to run through the older woman with the big axe on the right–

“Unharmed? Unharmed?” Cora’s voice brought Sam out of his thoughts and almost made him turn wide-eyed to look at her, but he caught himself in time. Her voice was shrill and affronted and just this side of violence. “I’ve just exhausted the last dregs of my mana restoring my bone-servant to full health. My poor husband took a blow that nearly slew him, his bodyguard is wounded, and I chipped a nail.” The illusion-Cora stomped forward into Sam’s field of view and put her nose right up against the Moustache, who recoiled.

“Tell me again,” her voice was a deadly hiss, “how unharmed I am.”

“Er, right.” The moustache harrumphed and took another step back from the obviously crazy woman. “Sorry miss. Just my natural suspicion coming to the fore, miss. Er. You said they went that way?”

“Yes,” Cora said, still glaring. “I believe one of your hounds managed to wound the human. He was looking quite poorly as they ran off. If you hurry, perhaps you will catch them. You coming, miss?”

“No,” Cora said, shaking her head. “My poor husband has already had enough excitement for one day. I must get him home. Good hunting, sirrah.”

“Thanks miss,” the moustache nodded. “Come on boys! There’s blood in the water!” The crowd with him roared, and they started off down the alleyway. Sam stood stock-still, letting the others move around him like a good skeleton ought. And in just a few seconds they were once more alone in the alley, though the sounds of searchers did not abate.

“Holy shit,” Sally breathed. “Cora, that was awesome. I’m taking notes. What a performance.”

“I just… I knew I had to throw them off. And I thought, who could I be that would make them leave quicker.” Cora said weakly. "I think I'm going to throw up. That was awful."

“Hold it in,” Sam said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You did amazing."

Cora reached up and laid her hand on Sam's and shot him a look that even through the illusion was pure gratitude.

"Okay," Sam squeezed her shoulder once, then turned to the others. "Pearl, get up above the buildings and see if you can find us a clear path to the western gates. Anything that keeps us clear of main roads or clumps of people."

"On it! The illusory crow saluted with a wing and took off straight up.

"The rest of us," Sam said, looking at the others. "Let's start walking. Anywhere that isn't here would be good."

"I hear that," rumbled Sally.