As the wildness and the Erlking stared each other down, Joe desperately tried to regain control over the weird amalgamation he was now part of. When Joe fought Sougath for control of his body he had relied on his Spirit to fight with. This should have been a good thing since that attribute had become, by far, his highest score. It was a third larger than it had been during his battle with the spectral Night Giest.
Unfortunately, the wildness was not any enemy invader; it was part of Joe. It, too, had access to their massive seventeen-point Spirit. To make matters worse, Joe had deliberately handed the reins to his primal side, and that wild spirit did not want to hand them back.
No matter how hard he tried to reassert himself, Joe found he was reduced to a spectator in his own body.
He watched the towering fey-lord bring his bow to bear and draw another arrow from the jeweled quiver. His highly-enhanced nose sniffed the loathsome cold aroma of silver. At the same time, his predatory gaze cut through the gloom even more clearly than [Night Eyes] had a minute before. They tracked the willowy king’s aim, knowing the exact moment the blackened fingers loosed the string.
Folding their body backward, much like Neo, the shapeshifter slipped under the dreadful slivered shot. As they rolled back upright, all Joe could feel was the overwhelming urge to tear the lord into pieces and take its pack for themselves. They cared nothing for some vaguely recalled plan to delay for time. Joe had a nagging feeling there was something very important he was forgetting but the fury pouring off the wildness made it almost impossible to think.
In that second, nothing else mattered but destroying the challenger, and Joe had no way to derail that desire.
Thankfully, the enemy's stupidity managed to do that exact thing. The bestial roars, empowered by his rapidly increasing [Pack Master] skill, had turned the lupine marauders and canine ambushers into cringing submissives. Even the ursine thralls were cowed by the alpha wolf’s dominating presence.
Only the insolent scavengers dared to defy them. As the werebeast leapt over the groveling undead minions to charge the dais, the feathered mages unloaded spells at the bounding form. Arcs of electricity, balls of acid, wreaths of flames, and more splashed against the feral brute. The attacks were merely pathetic magics, barely singing their regenerative flesh, but the insult of making an attack was not one the alpha would dismiss.
Turning on their heel, they charged the squawking arcanists, diving among the flock and ripping them apart.
You have resisted the Mournful Canter’s [Conductive Bolt].
You have resisted 96% of the Mournful Canter’s [Flaming Blast]. You are minorly injured.
You have resisted the Mournful Canter’s [Shadow Darts].
You have resisted 88% of the Mournful Canter’s [Acidic Orb]. You are minorly injured.
You have resisted the Mournful Canter’s [Arctic Spray].
Joe recalled how all of his spells against Sougath had failed during the fight in Vyhne’s tower. He now realized this was not due to a personal trait of the Demon Wolf. It was the nature of werewolves. All of their magical resistances were through the roof. So were their physical resistances. One of the skills Joe had passed up was even stronger in this truer werewolf form.
[Cursed Durability] (Vigor) (R) You have major resistance to elemental damage, and your skin cannot be pierced or cut by any physical attack that is not made of silver.
This explained why the wildness was so dismissive of the wolves and jackals. Even if one could manage to muster enough bravado to attack them, their claws and arrows would only be able to bruise them, at best. Only the Elrking’s silver arrows and the argent rapier worn on his belt posed any real threat to the great beast.
With a massively increased reach, the brutal semi-lycanthrope savaged every beaked buzzard around them. The extra two feet of arms they possessed added power and momentum to each slashing blow. Their butchery was more akin to swatting flies than it was to martial combat.
As the beast lost itself in its bloodlust, Joe found some room to assert a bit of control of his own. He did not attempt to stop them from dismembering the uppity scavengers, but he found he could redirect the amalgam into choosing targets. Joe nudged them to ignore those that were out of commission instead of wasting time rending them into minute oozing chunks. If he noticed any of the other minions looking to rise from their supine state, he encouraged the beast to correct that presumption as well.
Soon, he and the wildness were working in tandem. With Joe using [Sense Weakness], they began to make more precise attacks, dispatching canters and the others left and right. The loom was still churning out new minions, but their intertwined-self was on the move again. They bound back and forth across the massive chamber, only needing to dodge or defend when one of those abhorrent silver arrows sprung off the fey lord’s bow.
Bit by bit, Joe forced his awareness against the wildness, gaining ground in their collective headspace. Unlike his spiritual battle with Sougath, Joe knew they were not actually enemies. He did not have to fashion imaginary walls and weapons, he just needed to assert which of them was boss. Until now, that had never been in question. That is, until Joe made the foolish choice to hand control over to a wild alpha spirit. It was not in the wildness’s nature to yield. Joe had to force it to and once he was the leader again, he could never swap places again.
Bit by bit, Joe took hold of his Spirit and mind. The wildness was driven, but its obstinate fury was a distraction in the battle for control. The primal beast cared more about mutilating the undead minions than it did about Joe’s slow creep back into the driver seat.
Finally, Joe knew he was once more the master of the mix. Physically, they were still on track, dodging and jumping around the room, dominating the undead beastlings close to them. Mentally, the wildness had reluctantly yielded to Joe, but it was not fully settled into a beta roll. If Joe showed weakness, it would almost surely try and take back the body.
Joe kept his spirit strong while sending his awareness into himself, looking for the others. He sensed not two but three spirits on and in the bestial body. Yuk was partially riding on his furry pelt, but there were large traces of the bugs inside his torso as well. Taylyn was there too. Her pocket remained intact. Even better, she was somehow getting fresh air. Joe had no idea how this was happening, but figuring that out could wait until things were not so completely insane.
The last presence was absolutely alien to Joe. It was coming from the sash. While the sacred item was not outright rejecting what Joe had become, it was definitely judging him. The holy relic did not at all approve of this deep infusion of lycanthropy’s baleful presence. It was still enhancing his mental defenses, but it clearly was not happy about it.
Something else to worry about later. Much later.
Finding the [Parasitic Connection] still intact, Joe reached out to his allies.
“Sorry. We kind of lost it there for a second. How is it going?”
“IT HAS NOT BEEN A SECOND, YOU PSYCHO!,” snapped Taylyn’s mental shout. “It’s been almost two whole minutes! I have had to add power four times already. It is going to break any second! We are going to die!”
“Oh shit! Sorry. I’ll make an opening in the hide, and you can toss it.”
“Bad idea, Joe. Tay thinks the king controls this space. We need her bomb to fall right at his feet, or he might shunt it away. Maybe onto the others. It’s got to be too close for him to banish.”
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“A question Myllo or Vex could have answered for sure, if we had the earring, but you were off growling and biting things,” seethed the panicked mouse. “No time now. Just get there. FAST!”
As one, Joe and the wildness, pivoted and galloped for the Erlking, the dais, and the loom. As four limbs turned out to be faster than two, they lumbered through the enemy like a charging bear. The medallion jumped them around any dense packs of the dead, while the ring or brute force punched holes through the sparser lines.
As they ran, Joe worked on opening the pelt over Taylyn, only to discover that the [Hide of the Hunter] was no longer a separate item. It was truly part of himself. He flared [Skinwalker], trying to employ it as he had with [Morphic Form]. Immediately, Joe sensed that this new skill could do everything the old one could and more, yet it would not comply with his current desire. Adding muscle to help movement or reshaping bones was perfectly understandable to the ability. Splitting open a gap in their flesh to make a window to his innards was not. [Morphic Form] was all about making Joe better, more effective. It seemed chest holes did not meet this criteria.
The fact the obviously flawed gap would stop him from exploding was beyond the skill’s comprehension.
“Are you kidding me!” Joe growled mentally.
His passengers immediately cried, “What!” in unison.
“This is going to suck ... for me. Scrunch yourself tight, Tay.”
As Joe came within two teleports of the dais, he straightened back up, powering forward on just his legs. He loosed a fearsome growl at the Lord of Spring, getting exactly what he had hoped for: an arrow shot. This time he did not try to dodge the missile. Instead, he interposed his elongated clawed mitt, allowing the bolt to punch through his skin, trapping the arrow-shaft in his flesh. He ripped the missile the rest of the way through his hand, not worrying that the silver-inflicted wound wouldn’t regenerate. Joe was perfectly fine using his tried-and-true [Healing Touch].
He huffed a sarcastic “Thanks” to the Erlking, but it came out as a snarky-sounding bark.
Carefully placing the arrowhead a few inches to the right of Taylyn, he jammed it through the shaggy tissue, stopping when the sharp tip struck the edge of his breastbone. The beast-they-were blew out three puffing breaths to count down before slicing the arrowhead towards his diaphragm. Crimson sprayed outward, pouring out of the long wound and turning the pelt over his stomach into a sodden mat of bloody hair. Throwing the bolt away, Joe hooked his claw into the left side of the laceration and pulled. Hard.
Agonizingly, he tore the flesh and muscle back, trying to open the pocket the mouseling spark was hiding in. Flashes flickered at the edges of his vision from the torturous pain. Joe had to stop pulling and panted several large gasps as they ran before he could focus again.
He teleported, appearing and immediately needing to dodge a silver-pointed projectile. They were only twenty yards away from the dais. He could now use the medallion to blip up right up to the undead lord with his next jump, but Taylyn was still trapped inside him.
Joe could hear her terrified whimpers as she juggled with the barely-held explosion Joe had forced her to create. Yuk tried to murmur encouragement, but their mental attempts at comfort didn’t seem to be helping. Besides Taylyn’s complete focus on her spell, Yuk also lacked the social experience to understand what constituted reassurance and what was just annoying blather.
With one last agonizing tear, Joe felt his skin split into the internal marsupial pouch he had created.
He jumped one last time. And everything happened at once.
The Erkling must have read Joe’s intention. He had stashed his bow and drawn the bright, elegant blade. The silver sword cut the air in an arc impossible for Joe to fully avoid. He turned to shield Taylyn and raised his right arm, hoping to block at least some of the strike.
That did not occur. The rapier effortlessly whisked right through Joe’s hand, cutting from the outside of his wrist, through his palm, and out between his middle and ring fingers, even taking off the tip of his longest digit in the process.
“Vorpal friggin’ blade!” Joe mentally gasped. If he had not seen his hand being bisected, he would not have known about it. The edge was that sharp. He was sure pain was about to follow, but, as yet, there was no sense of it.
Out from the spurting wound in his chest blasted a bundle of Yuk. The ball of bugs shot away like a bullet, though it quickly dropped from the air, falling towards the dais on which they all stood.
Right on the tail of Yuk’s bug blob flew a blazing spark of churning brilliance. The flashing kernel was so bright every creature within thirty feet averted their eyes. Coiling bands of power lashed around the spark like miniature iridescent solar flares.
The mummified king immediately began to flick his fingers through a series of arcane gestures. As he did so, the space around the blinding glint began to bend and fold. In his dark, melodious voice, the Lord of Spring exclaimed, “Nay! Ye shalt not …”
Clink.
A dull gray rock bounced against the stone beneath the Lark King’s feet, and the man froze.
Your party member Yuk has utilized your [Slow Stone] to immobilize the Erlking. Duration 1.6 seconds.
Joe karate-chopped the collar around his neck using the unwounded half of his hand. With a violent wrench, he and his two teammates were yanked through space: not gently. Vexor must have prioritized speed for this spell. Though the moment only lasted a fraction of an instant, in that micro-span of time, Joe felt like he had been stretched like taffy and then shot from a cannon.
The world brightened as the trio was snatched out of the shadowed gloom of the pyramid and thrown into the open air. They tumbled head over heels through weeds and leaves, quickly tangling to a stop in a batch of slightly sticky vines. Upside down, Joe gazed up at a very stunned group of guilders who had been running through the jungle. By pure luck, he had not managed to crash into any of them, but it had been a near miss.
“Woof,” Joe exclaimed, in the voice of the wolven form he still wore.
As he was about to try and get to his feet, the world flashed into a far greater brilliance. The sound hammered through the gathering of guildmates. Joe’s eardrums burst. He saw his friends clap their hands over the sides of their heads as well.
Since Joe was already prone, the following shockwave did not move him much. It bowled over the rest of his comrades: everyone except for Naragash. It even knocked down trees all around the group.
Taylyn Dale’s [Castle Crasher] has moderately injured you. You have been deafened. You have resisted being incapacitated by stunning damage.
As he was one of the few not stupefied by the forest-leveling blast, Joe prepared to heal and help the others, but before he could do so, sounds started coming into focus on their own. His ears were rebuilding themselves. His werewolf regeneration was a nice plus, even though Joe was already more than capable of repairing damage.
He cast [Healing Touch] and dismissed [Skinwalker]. The sensation of the hide pulling itself apart from his flesh and bones was an utterly eerie feeling. By the time his ears were back to normal, so was the rest of himself.
Joe lifted a stunned Taylyn from the pocket in the pelt and cleared her debilitating conditions. He placed the tiny woman on the ground, steadying her still wobbly balance.
Before he headed over to help out the others, he had to look back through the mostly toppled trees to the ziggurat—or at least where it had been.
There was nothing left but a massive smoking crater.
“Holy Ruhin!” Yuk uttered into Joe’s head.
The pair stood stunned, trying to take in the enormity of what the little mouseling had done. They were standing at least a mile away from the blast site, where the land was beginning to climb up toward the ridge surrounding the valley. Everything within half-a-mile of where the pyramid had stood was just gone. There was only dust and smoke and ash. From the half-mile line to a hundred yards or so away from the group, the landscape was completely leveled. Every tree was toppled.
“Holy …” Joe thought back, unsure how to finish that exclamation.
The devastation was unfathomable.
They might have stood there longer, just staring, if a colossal braying hoot did not cause Joe to practically jump out of his skin. They spun to see Graymuck pointing toward the ruin, howling in laughing hysteria at the top of his lungs. The archer was obviously unable to hear just how loud his shrieking mirth actually was.
Wincing from the thunderous cackling, Joe dashed over to fix the troll’s bleeding ears and stop his horrifying racket. He would tend to the others after dealing with the ludicrously loud hunter.