"Report!" King Rudolph barked.
The Bundeus-cursed elves struck their camp at night. It was chaos with men running and dying everywhere. Deathberry, those fucking heretic druids with no concept of honor in battle went too far. And now he had to rein in his men in the middle of the night.
Chieftain Kegan knelt. "Your Majesty. We lost about three thousand men. Those that survived acquired poison resistance traits. But the men are unsure. Some are talking of desertion!"
"NONSENSE! Bundeus gave us a divine mission," The King shouted. "And we are going to burn that wretched forest even if we need to fight to the last men!"
"We sense the Beast," The hierophant of Bundeus said. "It is near. Wounded but alive."
The freaking prophecy that the one-armed daughter of the witch would be his doom. Rudolph spat. He spent a fortune arming all of his guards with silver weapons and had them waste valuable perks getting better at fighting were-beasts.
"Bundeus better keep his part of our deal," Rudolph growled.
The hierophant just smiled. "He will. Your Kingdom will be blessed by Bundeus even though you'll never return. Fulfill your divine mission. Slay the beast."
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With the camp awake, it would be harder to do another rain attack. Not to mention the barbarians could flee at the first sign of trouble. I was set to block them from marching on Fulgen unbidden though. I was determined to end this even at the cost of this life and end this I will. They also had an earth mage of considerable power and I was afraid he would sense what I was doing. So far, nothing happened.
I spent hours digging a huge - for a jaguar kitten - chamber underneath their camp. Nenandil filled it with water and I dissolved all the poison I had left. The water was kept from touching the earth and floated like a bubble with me in the middle. Once my lungs were filled with water, I had to swim to avoid falling to the bottom.
The main barbarian camp is above us. Here goes nothing.
I stop swimming and fall to the bottom of the chamber. Nenandil remains in the middle of the bubble. The water pressurizes and it pushes me down to lay flat against the ground. I dig a bit more and escape the bubble. It doesn't shake. I just feel fresh air rush in as the water is pushed up through the hole. A minute later the "poisoned" messages start to float up. I don't hope to kill as many as before as these guys are of a higher level and they have priests to help to heal but I can dream.
The earth around us shook and pressed down as if a giant's mallet hit the ground. The Earth mage was at work trying to prevent us from finishing our job but the joke's on him. All he accomplished was to denude my crater. Nenandil tree-fountain is still going strong. The bubble is shrinking as the water is pushed up but there's not much he can do to prevent it. Nenandil is somewhere inside the bubble with the same refraction index as the water around her. She's technically invisible.
Stone spikes fly and pierce the bubble. Some water splashes out, the loss was negligible. I skulk up the crater wall behind the earth mage, preparing to pounce on him. I was curious to know how he got those round number damage values but I shelved that to happenstance. I had no idea how spell damage was calculated. I was close now and he would die before we could have a proper conversation.
"Accursed poison! {Earth Spike Volley}!" The mage cast again.
He had an umbrella of earth covering him, deflecting the droplets of poison falling from above. I jumped up and bit his neck as I latched onto his chest. The first strike in an ambush had a higher crit chance, so score.
> You killed level 55 Earth Mage. You gained 75,625 Exp (30,250 base x 10,000 perk x 0,0001 curse x 1.25 perk x 2 Class rank).
Payback is a sandbank by the ocean shore.
I ran past the dying barbarians and went up a knoll to look around. I could see a group of big tents where the leadership of this army probably was at. Even though I was prepared to die I wasn't stupid. I could see the gleaming silver maces reflecting the bonfire's light. No. They wouldn't be able to push forward without an army, so I went for the rank-and-file barbarians.
The camp was chaos and nobody noticed a sleek lean were-jaguar prowling around the ones foaming on the ground. Until I reached the edge of Nenandil's spray. The barbarians were armed with throwing weapons, mostly spears and javelins. They would kill anyone running away from the poisoned area, effectively creating a perimeter fencing the poison in.
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I went around but it was the same. The rest of the army wouldn't let anyone get out alive. The few that had some resistance to the poison were cowed, dying, and cursing their compatriots. One of them was too healthy for my tastes. I decided to kill that guy. He was probably high-level and a good Exp source.
I crept closer and pounced, aiming at his neck. I didn't see the fist.
> Barbarian punched you. You lost 674 HP.
I flew a dozen meters back. Like, what the? How can this guy deal six hundred damage with a single backhand punch?
"What's this?" The barbarian said as he turned around, visibly amused. "A kitten? The dread beast the elves created to fight us is a kitten?"
I should've changed to hybrid form, now that I think of it.
"Your pelt will make an excellent loincloth," He guffawed. The other barbarians were watching the scene unfold.
I should expect some that some jokester would buy the very perk that allows me to ignore the poison. Maybe I should be surprised not many did. I mean, there's poison everywhere!
"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Let me twist your neck and skin you!" He cooed.
A pit of burning anger swirled in my midriff, stronger than any other moment safe for the ritual. I looked up and found that today was a night of full moons, two of them to be precise. The moons beckoned. I could resist and keep my sanity, but it was there. I felt an urge to scratch that guy. I growled and ran straight at him.
He had no weapon in his hands and it seemed that he would really try to catch me. I shifted to the sides trying to zigzag but his eyes stayed locked on me. That guy was a high-level bastard, for sure. I pounced him and he moved to grab me. Aiming for the hand, I used it as a stepping stone to jump before he could grab me. I felt my claws nick his skin and gained height only to be caught by the tail. Again.
The barbarian tugged and I felt as if my tailbone was about to pop. Then he slammed me down on the ground like a wet rag.
> Willpower check failed. You inflicted Barbarian with theriantropy.
>
> Barbarian used slam. You lost 1,254 HP. You are stunned.
Say what?
He let go of my tail and screamed. His bellowing was frightening and... heartwarming, familiar at the same time. My stun debuff wore off and I looked at him. Fur was growing in his arms. a matte tawny fur with black spots. His teeth jutted out and grew, morphing from rectangles into fangs, elongating his face into a muzzle. He fell on his knees and his boots slid off his now digitigrade legs.
The massive adult were-jaguar stood, towering more than two and a half meters above me. He looked at me, growled, and turned to face the line of wide-eyed barbarians holding the line.
Nenandil returned to me, the water and poison spent.
It distracted me for a moment. when I looked again, the barbarian were-jaguar was in the middle of the other barbarians, a whirlwind of death I could never imitate with my meager Attributes.
But it made sense. I never fought a human before in this condition. Were-creatures do spread their theriantropy around. Or lycanthropy if one's a werewolf. I wasn't. But it gave me an idea. Why not add to my force instead of killing them?
I ran to the gap my newfound ally made and went the other way. The barbarians were scattered and I made use of the shadows to run and dip a claw in each one of them. Some didn't turn. But the few that did attack their compatriots with a mad fervor. Or should I say, like lunatics?
Chaos was absolute. Barbarians fought, barbarians fled, barbarians were converted. Were-jaguars died, most of them beheaded during their conversion. But theriantropy still spread through the camp like a plague.
It didn't take long for the elite at the tent camp to join the fray. Their silver weapons were mightly effective and the were-jaguars jumped at the blades. They were frenzied and had not an ounce of concern for their safety.
They didn't stay unscathed. Shifting into were-jaguars gave the barbarians a massive boost to their physical Attributes and while the odds were skewed in favor of those equipped and perked up to fight us, they were forced to pay their pound of flesh. And the ranks of the were-jaguar were still swelling.
Until the priests joined the fray. Their holy symbol was a sunburst with three swords crossed. They used spells to bolster the elites, push back the jaguars, and outright kill them with flying silver daggers. I stayed on my hillock watching. Going there was certain death, I was sorely outmatched. Truly, I could bully savage humanoids but that was the limit of what this little cat-girl could physically do.
> You converted more than 200 were-jaguars.
>
> You gained the Were-jaguar Matriarch (unique) perk. Were jaguars are compelled to obey you. Your combat Skills raise a rank when fighting against were-jaguars. Those you personally convert are stronger, smarter, and gain a loyalty boost. You receive an Experience tithe from all were-jaguars based on proximity.
Thank you, I guess?
I slashed the straps of my saddlebags to shift into hybrid form. The fight was almost over, the big barbarian I converted first died and took a handful of priests with him. That's when I saw him. King Rudolph III and another priest with more gold on his clothing than a whole nation in their vaults walked out of the tent. The king shouted.
"Come out, elven wench. Witch's daughter, come and face me in single combat!" His voice exuded power. His taunts carried the power of his high Charisma score. It was mesmerizing and infuriating at the same time.
I remained still. The high priest of Bundeus shot a spell at the sky and as it grew, it became a miniature sun that clouded the moons. The were-jaguar shifted back to their human forms. Terrorized by what they did with their own hands, they fled. That night, the curse of the were-jaguar was set loose upon the world. But the only one with black fur that ever existed was their queen. Me.
The sun had a second effect. My now royal black fur stuck out like a sore thumb. The King pointed at me and bellowed.
"There you are, witch's daughter. Come and fight me. {Royal Challenge}!"
> Charisma test failed. You must accept the Royal Challenge. The challenge is to the death. Escape is impossible.
I felt strange as his ability took hold. I knew I couldn't escape. I had to fight the King with his big gleaming silver sword. Yes, the guy with probably the highest level in the whole army. With whatever magic items he had.
I couldn't escape but so long I wasn't attempting to, I could take my time. Well, I guess that's it. I cut off a piece of cloth and shifted to human form before I tied that rag around my crotch like a makeshift loincloth. I looked up and screamed in English.
"FUCK YOU, BUNDEUS. I'M COMING FOR YOU IN MY NEXT LIFE. AND THE NEXT, UNTIL THE DAY YOU PERISH IN MY HANDS."
He was an asshole of a god even in name.
I stared at the king. I took a bronze dagger from a corpse next to me. I showed him my finest finger. I wished to say I killed myself but I couldn't. I nicked my neck but my hands shook. The dagger fell on the ground. In my last moments, I feared pain. I feared to lose Nenandil.
I looked back as melodic warcries erupted behind me. The Fulgen elves were charging the barbarian camp. My hope swelled up. Maybe I could wait for...
> King Rudolph III used {Execute} with Silver Sword. You lost 6,763 HP (Base 501 x3 Execute x3 Critical x1.5 Silver Vulnerability). You lost a head.
>
> You died.