Margen left the small cave behind without a single backward glance. The hulking warrior led Joe and Yuk through a series of twisting, turning caverns with complete surety. It was pretty obvious the founder was very familiar with this stretch of terrain. In less than an hour, the trio arrived at the first bit of worked stone Joe had seen since fleeing the cavern. A flight of stairs rose up through a door built into the cave wall, all etched in the same style as the hallways of the ziggurat they had been exploring.
“Nice!’ Joe exclaimed. Being helplessly lost in the endless catacomb-like tunnels beneath a looming danger had been weighing him down. He had been trying to push the anxiety and gloom to the back of his head, but that dread still remained, lurking behind his thoughts. The stairs were by no means an answer, but at least they were a place to start.
“We are not out of the fire yet,” Margen stated, echoing Joe’s thoughts. “I’ll take the lead.”
“Actually, Yuk should. They can sense movement, and they don’t really show up on the undead radars, um … life-sense,” Joe clarified, seeing Margen’s quizzical look at the alien word. ‘Radar’ must not have translated. Joe had given up trying to figure out which words Illuminarians and he shared. He just auto-corrected himself now every time he saw that look.
“Good to know. Keep that light low. The wights will still see it. Let me know if your familiar hears anything.” Margen mounted the stairs a dozen steps behind the swarm. Joe brought up the rear. The staircase was cut straight through the rock, with a landing and a switch-back after about forty feet.
They zig-zagged up the long flights four times before they reached a familiar-looking hallway. Joe felt a small smile reach his lips, but Margen looked anything but happy. A grim scowl furrowed his brows. These halls clearly held dark memories for the warrior. Joe wasn't sure what to say, if anything, but before he could decide, Yuk issued a warning.
“Lots of feet. Moving this way quickly. Somebody sure knows we’re here.”
“We have incoming, Margen,” Joe reiterated in a hushed voice, teleporting a rock from his bullet-bag into his left hand. His right one, he curled to be ready to slash with.
Sure enough, a second later, roughly twenty wights swarmed out of the darkness. Joe had started charging [Grit Razor], but he never had a chance to release it. Margen fell on the feral ghouls like an avalanche. The huge soldier’s ferocity and might were literally stunning to behold. Joe and Yuk simply stood gawking as the swordman hewed through the undead. He drove DoomHerald through limbs, torsos, skulls, effortlessly. Hacked chunks of gray flesh and gouts of oily blood spattered against the walls. Joe found himself sprayed by droplets of necrotic fluids as he stood awestruck.
In seconds, it was over, but it only took Joe another fraction of a second to realize what that exhibition had cost them. Margen, whom Joe had brought to a reasonable facsimile of health, once again looked like death warmed over. His skin was ashen, with new weeping sores splitting his skin everywhere visible. Considering the man was mostly covered by the hairy transformative pelt, that meant what Joe couldn’t see was probably much worse.
Assessing the man, Joe noted Margen’s stamina was almost gone. Without that energy pool to power the man’s resistance to disease, the rot had reinvaded all the tissue Joe had cleansed.
“Son of a bitch!” Joe swore. He touched the fur and willed it to slide off his patient. It was as bad as he feared. The mummy rot was everywhere again. “Damn it. Ok, no more tanking for you. This is going to take me an hour or more to fix. If we try to do it this way, we’ll never make it out of here.”
“Sorry. I lost my head there for a second,” the man wheezed ruefully. “Was so good to swing Dooms against those bastards again. I can be more conservative.”
“We’ll see.” Joe helped Margen into a cross-legged sit and then lit a [Heart Fire] under him. “Yuk, make a wide scout, both ways. Let’s not have any more surprises.”
“Got it. Is he going to be ok? He looks really bad again.”
“Yeah. It’s gonna take time, though … and stink the hallway up to high heaven, but I’m pretty sure I can get him back to where I had him.”
“But did you see him fight?! THAT WAS AWES..”
“Yeah, I saw it. Scout, Yuk. I really want to get moving as soon as we can.”
“Grouch,” the tatterdemalion humphed as the swarm of insects slid into the darkness. “Be right back,”
‘He is not the one who has to stand in the rot-stink for another hour fixing something he had JUST fixed,’ Joe thought to himself before wondering just how much of his thoughts Yuk had access to. Shrugging, Joe began the horribly nauseating task of pulling out as much of the Erlking’s blight as he could from the great man.
He had cleared Margen’s left pectoral up to his shoulder, giving the heart more healthy tissue to pump with, when Yuk sent a frantic call.
“Six of them just blew past us. Sorry they were going so quickly, we only heard them half a second before they ran by us. We’re coming!”
“Grit …”
“No!”
“Damn it.” Joe scooped up the hide and yanked out one of his heavy hatchets. He summoned both gauntlets and sent them hurtling down the hallway in the direction Yuk had gone. One of them passed right between the half dozen bounding ghouls. The other nailed a necrotically-infused beastman straight in its gut. The wight folded over the force-fist, stopping dead in its tracks. Joe took aim and hurled his axe into the leg of one of the leading dead. As he had hoped, the heavy blade buried itself deeply into the limb, causing the wolf-headed monster to trip and fall into the path of the ghoul behind it. Unfortunately, the trailing wight bound over its ally and kept coming.
Dirge Wight Marauders: Level 19: Undead(Wight): Skirmishers: Strength: 1,080/1,080
By the time the leader crashed into Joe, he had the hide in place, his shield up, and [Steadfast] flared. He kept his footing as he slapped the first ghoul he could reach, dropping [Dispel Rot] inside its head. Joe had found this attack pretty much immediately destroyed the undead while not causing an explosion of putrescence. Revolting fluids leaked out of eyes, mouths, ears, and noses, but none of the splurting blobs of goop that usually burst out of their skin.
Whether it was because Margen’s life force was so low or because the man was sitting in the middle of the undead repelling flames, thankfully, none of the creatures went after him. They all piled on Joe. Keeping his focus on [Steadfast], Joe considered activating his toothy vortex from his necklace before dismissing the idea. Five ghouls, with Yuk on the way, were manageable. The lavalier had a long cool down. Better to save it in case a larger pack showed up.
They took longer than Margen did for a third of the number of enemies, but Joe and Yuk came away from the fight in much better shape. Joe had to exorcise the taint from wights’ claws, heal a little, and recharge his friend’s stamina, but after that, they were as good as new.
Margen still had a long way to go.
----------------------------------------
An hour of healing later, interspersed by two more small fights, Joe had gotten the big man back as much health as they could reasonably expect, given the state of the mythic-level mummy rot. Joe’s stomach was empty once again from the retching that went hand in hand with these purges.
“That should do it. Now stay back from the fights, sir,” Joe ordered as politely as he could, even though he was frustrated and nauseous. “As you can see, we are not quick, but we can take them.”
“Don’t sir me,” the old warrior rebuked almost automatically before adding, “But I get your point. I’ll stay out of it unless things get too hairy.”
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“Oh, yeah. Speaking of which. Here, you should take this back.” Joe passed over the hide and willed it into the shape of a long hauberk, big enough to fit the man’s broad frame.
When they had gotten far enough away from the wretched scent of where they had treated Margen, Joe summoned rations from his ring. He was ravenous. As he tore into the dried meat, a low rumbling purr seemed to issue from inside himself. It seemed the wildness had been craving food as well.
As he walked and ate, Joe considered if they should party with the legendary hero. It wasn’t worth it for experience, as the undead here was far too low to benefit the founder. On the other hand, it would allow Joe to better watch the state of the rot and Margen’s health. Just as he was about to make the suggestion out loud, a thought struck him, and he clamped his mouth closed. There was no way they could party up. The moment Margen joined them, he would realize Yuk was not a familiar, and then questions would start, especially since they had been lying to him. Joe mentally breathed a quick sigh. That was close.
The trio followed the long corridor, taking right-hand turns when they could, while bypassing the doors and stairs. After about twenty minutes, Margen hissed from behind Joe. The two had traded places, after the healing. Yuk remained on point.
“We got company. Heard footfalls coming from behind us.”
“Ok, switch,” Joe ordered and sent “Yuk. Dead charging from behind!”
“Coming.”
Joe stepped around his huge companion and summoned his shield. He left the hide with the founder. Joe could fix his own damage much easier than he could Margen’s.
“Widen your feet, Joe,” the old warlord couched. “You have a two-hander’s stance there. Did you learn with a specific weapon?”
“Staff,” Joe blurted back, as he brightened the golden gauntlets and surrounded the founder in a [Heart Fire]. In the brighter light, his enhanced night-vision could pick out pale forms bounding toward them.
“Yeah, that makes sense. You are now fighting in a shield and strike pose. You need to relax your posture. Roll your shoulders. Loosen up,” the fighter suggested. “Be open to pivoting toward either hand, instead of working them together like you would with a staff.”
Joe adjusted to meet the warrior’s advice as much as he could in the seconds before they were engaged. This pack had a surprise Joe was not expecting, An arrow lanced from the squad of bestial dead, catching Joe high in the chest. Thankfully, Joe had applied the [Feral Armor Kit] he had gotten from Sougath to his gambeson, which gave the padded armor more physical defense than a basic steel breastplate. The head still penetrated, pinging into his collarbone, but it failed to go any further. It hurt, but he was able to snatch it out and heal before the wolfen marauders reached them.
In the midst of the enemy, Joe saw a smaller figure hanging back. This wight had features more like a jackal than a wolf, and it was the one bearing a bow.
Dirge Wight Ambusher: Level 16: Undead(Ghoul): Artillery: Dexterity: 576/576
Joe swooped his hands together like a conductor, causing his gauntlets to crash into either side of the jackal-like head. The blow was not completely lethal, but it temporarily took the archer out of commission.
“Can you get him, Yuk?” Joe asked, as he ducked a clawed slash and hooked his talons into a rotting shin.
“Got him.”
Joe pulled his clawed hand back hard, yanking the ghoul over backward. The wolf-wights were stronger than he was, but the pose Margen had him in felt steadier. Joe leaned back from a swipe attempting to blind him, and found balance. It just felt right. He pivoted away from another strike, cracking his shaggy shield into the long snout and rotten fangs of another ghoul. Instinctively, he plucked a hand axe from its loop and finished his turn, hurling the hatchet into the neck of another Ambusher.
Your discipline [School of the Sparrowhawk] has increased to rank 4.
“Are you kidding me!” Joe thought, both excited and a bit perplexed. “Weeks of trying to master that, and I get it after one tip from Margen.”
Joe had no time to revel in breaking through the roadblock he had hit with the School of the Sparrowhawk. There were more ghouls in this pack than even the one Margen had soloed.
True to his word, the warrior stayed back, standing in the [Heart Fire] Joe had placed under his feet, but he was not inactive. Every couple of seconds, Doomherald lanced out in surgically precise strikes, each blow immediately dropped a ghoul. The difference between these whisking slices and thrusts, and his previous hurricane of destruction were night and day. Joe could tell that the swordsman was being very conservative with his efforts.
Joe hit him with [Efferous Endurance] just to be safe. He hoped that by immediately refilling even those small stamina expenditures, it might block the rot from filling the gaps.
Yuk alternated between [Biting Vortex] and [Big Bugs]. His damage was still not great, lower than Joe’s. Even so, together, they were able to resist the wights and whittle them down. Without the addition of Margen’s exacting cuts, they might have been in real trouble, especially if something went wrong or any more of the predators showed up.
One by one, the feral attackers fell, until the hallway returned to its ancient looming silence.
Joe patched them up quickly and spent a minute driving back the rot. Margen had been amazingly circumspect in the fight, but the rot was still relentlessly attacking his body. In no time, they were underway once again, looking for anything that would point them toward the way out.
“One more pack like that, and I’ll level again!” Yuk crowed.
“Really. Lucky bastard.”
“Dude. I’m three levels behind you. Quit yer wallowin’.”
“Fair.”
“Fifteen’s a bummer level anyway. No skills or attributes.”
“Oh yeah. Bleh. Still, more health stamina for you would be a boon. Besides … ”
Joe stopped dead in his tracks as the strangest feeling washed over him. It was the weirdest mix of excitements. They seemed to explode out of his chest, gut, and loins. The feeling was part enthusiasm, part arousal, and part affection. He could feel the wildness inside himself pushing at his awareness. It was trying to get his attention. Joe stilled his thoughts, tuning out everything but where that primal instinct was trying to take him.
And there it was. Just a tiniest hint. Under the dust and age, under the stench of Margen’s rot and Yuk’s crickety smell, there was a whiff of … Kendell.
Joe turned and snuffled the air, letting his feet draw him towards that faint warm fragrance. Eyes closed, his head brushed the wall, and Joe put his hands to it, dropping himself lower and lower towards the floor. There were other traces there too now. Hah’roo, light and clean, like a fresh dusting of snow. RC, leafy with hints of Naenaeon. Tez smelled like some kind of polish, shoe or metal, kind of sharp.
He opened his eyes and saw he was kneeling on the ground next to one of the massive stone doors. The huge slab was fitted into slots in the floors and walls, obviously meant to slide not swing. On the wall was the panel with hieroglyphic symbols on it. If they had any idea how to make the magic work, it would likely open the massive door but it was completely alien to Joe.
“Yuk! Wild Order was on the other side of this door. Can you go under it?”
“You sure?” they asked in an astonished thought.
“No, I’m crouched here on the floor for the fun of it.”
“Alright, alright. Dumb question. Let’s see if we can get through.”
As Joe watched Yuk flow around his knees, he spoke out loud to Margen. “I have [Scent]. I just picked up a trace of my team on the other side of the big door here. I’m pretty sure we passed this way coming in. I should be able to use it to lead us out. If we can get through this thing.” Joe rose to his feet and cracked his neck before pointing to the control panel. “Do you have any idea how to work that?”
“That would be a Jequa question, son,” Margen replied with a shrug. “I’m the one they called to break down doors, not solve lock puzzles.”
“Sorry,” Yuk’s telepathic voice panted. “It’s so tight and packed with ages of grit. We could get some mites through, but when we get down to mite size, we can barely think. Sorry.”
Even though that was not at all what Joe wanted to hear, he immediately sent Yuk reassuring thoughts. Just because Yuk could not pull off another of his amazing tricks did not put this on their rippling shoulders.
Joe glared at the huge slab of rock and ground his teeth. They finally had a clue. The thing they had been searching for; the thing they needed to find, was just on the other side of this huge hunking block of stone.
There had to be a way through.