Hasha Yarrow coughed up plaster and dust. Groaning, she pulled herself out of the wreckage she was sprawled across, wincing as everything felt tender. Above, the ruins of the roof she’d been hiding on lay ripped apart, pieces of rubble still falling.
You are at 87 HP out of 100. You have suffered impact damage to all limbs and torso.
Yeah, that would be why. Hasha pulled herself further up and realized she had fallen into a staircase. She managed to pull herself out just in time to see another body on the stairs.
Hasha scrambled, going to check. A quick examination showed there was no point. The other soldier had fallen on his head and the damage done to his neck was sufficient to break it.
She was alive. Again. Is it just luck or an intervention of some kind? Yes, Hasha, your dead deities intervened on your behalf, she thought acidly inside her head. Maybe the Unified ones. Thanks for the courtesy. I’ll give my courtesies to your chosen one right before I blow off his kneecaps.
Hasha had no idea where the Healer was, actually. Briefings hadn’t covered what they were supposed to do with him. Run and hope a cloud blocked the sun for a bit, she guessed.
She moved up the stairs, past another body. Was she the only one alive? It was beginning to look like it. Crap. The plan for the Lancer had been to eventually lure him to the center square and bury him under a building, hoping it took out his mobility. The Lancer’s relatively low strength would make it a better strategy than with the Juggernaut. If the troops meant to draw him had all just died, there was no telling where he might go.
Then she heard the sound of yelling from outside. Scrambling for her rifle, she looked for a way back to the roof.
***
Trevor pulled himself out of the crevice in the earth. The armor didn’t make it easy, but he eventually freed himself from the narrow slit leading to the street above.
Back on the surface, he surveyed his handiwork. Most of the surrounding buildings were missing fixtures, anything not part of the walls flung dozens to hundreds of feet in any direction. Quite a few walls as well. Scales littered the street surface, most of their bodies bent at unnatural angles from where his unleashed winds had slammed them against walls and the ground.
He’d missed a few. The issues of an attack that hit things randomly. Mostly ones far off in the distance, pulling back now, some carrying the wounded or dying with them. There was one exception.
Trevor cursed as a lone Scale charged him, firing at him with a submachine gun as they did. The red mask indicated an NCO as the Scale roared, and bullets flew eerily on target.
They didn’t do anything, but the kinetic force made him stumble a bit. He continued trying to run for the spear. Out of the corner of his eye, the Scale dropped the firearm.
He reached for his pistol, only to grasp empty air. The Scale wrapped their arms around his neck, hooking his leg. They both went down onto the dirt. Cursing, he looked down at his belt. It was gone. Where was it?
He rammed his head backward. The steel of his helmet was stronger than the Scales’ masks, and their metal crunched as it impacted. It loosened it’s grip, and he soon scrambled his way out.
You have inflicted 8 damage with an unarmed headbutt.
He kicked behind him, foot ramming into something. He didn’t have a lot of strength, but enough for something to crack. The Scale screamed in pain as Trevor looked for his pistol or spear.
You have inflicted 23 damage with a kick.
The belt containing his pistol was on the ground, severed by the Scale’s initial attack. And worse, there was a second scale soldier there. They were in even worse condition than the first, open wounds still bleeding, having probably crawled out of one of the collapsed houses nearby. Time went slow for a second.
They both rushed for the belt.
Trevor was going to make it there first, his superior stats winning, when something grasped at his ankle. He tripped and fell to the ground. He could feel someone trying to pull on him, dragging him back.
He kicked. A scream filled the air as he went back to his feet.
You have inflicted 18 damage with a kick. Sergeant Kolasten Quarz has been killed at your hands.
The second Scale had snatched up the pistol, grabbed it, and aimed it. Trevor froze.
Oh you goddamn motherf-
His internal cussing out of the Scale got interrupted as it blew up in their hand. They’d triggered the anti-theft enchantment.
The Scale had a second to look at the mangled, sliced ruin of their fingers before Trevor had crossed the distance between them. He aimed this one nicely. Armored fingers rammed into where the Scale’s eye was. The Scale barely had time to scream as it burst apart under the pressure.
“You asshole!” Trevor raged at the Scale, who was now prone on the ground and flailing. “Do you know how much money that cost? How long it took to make!”
The Scale wasn’t answering, only screaming in pain. It was a male. Good, he could make this hurt.
He grabbed both the flailing legs of the Scale, then rammed his steel-plated boot into where they met as hard as he could.
You have hit with an Unarmed attack on a weak point and inflicted 160 damage. Corporal Tilvan Ilvo had died at your hands.
The entire lower half of the Scale’s torso blew into gore, leaving Trevor holding a pair of messily severed legs. Staring at the rough stumps, he only thought.
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Crap, I wanted that to have lasted longer. Wait, is this what Jake feels like all the time?
A lot of his yelled insults had sounded a lot like his supposed subordinate.
He needed to calm down before engaging in the same recklessness that Jake did. He didn’t have the other Traveler’s damage immunities.
Let’s just take a breather and, oh for fucks sake-
Someone had tackled him from behind.
How many of them survived the Whirlwind? It's the most worthless special move ever to be invented!
The Scale was weaker than the first, the tackle only carrying him a few feet forward. He tripped and stumbled but did not fall. He rammed his elbow back, being rewarded with a pained grunt. He felt it ram into flesh, and something underneath the flash snapped.
The grip loosened, and his other hand reached down, grabbed a thumb, and bent.
The Scale shrieked, the noise almost unbearable right next to his ear. With a sudden jerk, he redoubled his effort, and the thumb broke, going backward. The screaming reached an entirely new octave.
The attempted tackle and hold was ruined, and he moved forward, beginning to pivot with one leg raised. The Scale came into sight, a tall woman with scales covering only near its eyes and cheeks. It looked at him, a mixture of pain and desperation in its eyes as it reached for something on its belt.
He didn’t wait to see what that was. His leg lashed out, and its expression along with its entire head caved in. He continued to spin, his leg blasting through her head. The headless corpse dropped to the ground as he continued toward his original position.
He turned his attention back to the one still attached to him like a limpet.
His armored fist smashed the steel of the mask, crumpling it inwards and getting a muffled scream from the occupant. The smashed-in steel had probably cut up the Scale’s face.
An unarmed attack has hit and inflicted 18 damage. You have also inflicted forty damage from environmental effects.
He regretted having his build rely so much on Dexterity. Wrestling with the Scale, it was clear that their strength scores were comparable enough that the Scale could make this an actual contest.
“Would you get off,” Trevor exclaimed in exasperation, hammering the Scale in the face once again. Steel smashed cartilage and bone. Droplets of blood flew through the air. The angle was awkward; he couldn’t put as much force behind this one, but the effects were still devastating.
An unarmed attack has hit and inflicted 24 damage. You have inflicted a critical condition: Broken Nose. Their current HP total is 46/70
The Scale refused to let go still. The entire rest of its squad was dead, with no weapon on it, half its face shredded from a single punch. And yet, still, it was trying to get any piece of his armor off.
It would be admirable if it weren’t so annoying.
The Scale hissed and spat, drops of saliva hitting his armor and hissing. Brilliant, apparently, the lizard that had fucked this one’s ancestors was an acid-breather. It couldn’t harm him behind his armor, but it could certainly make it look like garbage.
“Would you just give up-”
Trevor had just spotted his spear.
“I warned you,” he said before hammering the Scale again. This time, he could feel something break behind the mask.
Unarmed attack has hit for 23 Damage. You have inflicted the Broken Bones condition. 23 HP remaining on target.
The Scale finally let go and Trevor ran for his spear. A pair of hastily aimed bullets followed after him, ricocheting off the ground next to it.
“If you want to live, I’d suggest surrendering now,” Trevor said, hand closing on his spear.
He turned around, ready to stab. Finally, he could move toward the town hall-
The Scale had found a shaped charge.
Trevor had time to note that before the charge rammed into his chest, detonating as it touched. The explosion sent him reeling as the force knocked him off his feet.
You have been hit by Dragonlance AT weapon! Armor has reduced the damage to 5 HP. You have 1975/1980 HP remaining. You have the affliction Stun for six seconds.
Trevor stared numbly at the UI notification. Somewhere inside his brain, a voice was yelling for him to get up and do something. But the status effect prevented any kind of activity, even mental activity.
He was mildly aware of someone grasping at him, pulling at something on his head. It came off, the figure running as he blankly stared at them.
Trevor jolted back to reality, and the first thing he noticed was the feeling of air on his face.
The Scale had taken his helmet off. More than a little irritating. He had a massive HP pool, but that didn’t mean he wanted some scale to try sandpapering it off with an automatic weapon.
He got up, swearing, getting ready to chase the stupid lizard down until he’d caught up and pasted his head into noth-
A glint on the rooftops. Trevor dodged as the bullet passed through where his head had been, cursing. The other Scale was running with his helmet, screaming something in their tongue.
He had a moment. His spear flew and rammed into the back of the soldier’s throat.
You have dealt 76 damage. The target’s spine has been severed. You have killed Ilvat Morrow, level 3 Peasant/Level 2 Miller/Level 5 Soldier/ Level 2 Sergeant/Level 2 Brawler.
He ran for the corpse, now bearing both his helmet and his spear. Another shot ran out, and with a jolt, his upper back felt like it had been punched. He stumbled and regained his footing. He was close. Only a dozen or so feet. He rushed towards the corpse.
That’s when the building behind him collapsed.
***
Hasha spat out a mouthful of dust, trying to cough the rest up. Her hand wiped at her own face, clearing it from her face, her eyes tearing up.
Even if the Stormsummoner lost all sense of restraint, there might not be any buildings left for her to destroy.
She’d just made her way to the roof when the building at the end of the street had gone, two stories of bricks falling into the street. A starting point. Either the Lancer had collapsed it, or someone had tried to collapse it on the Lancer.
The dust from the collapsing building was beginning to clear now. Wonder of wonders, the Traveler was at the rubble's edge, underneath an entire pile of stone and wood holding him in place. Only one arm and their head poked out, a few feet away from his helmet and spear. The latter was protruding from the back of someone’s neck.
It looked like Helko. A quick check with her scope confirmed it, and she moved it to the right to check the Traveler.
The Traveler looked like he was dead as well, half his body pinned under the rubble. Limp, blood streaming down the side of his face. His face must have rammed into the floor or maybe hit by debris. Unlikely that he was dead, but he might be out of it for now.
An eye flickered. Okay, he wasn’t going to be out of it for long. It snapped open, fixed onto her.
She didn’t have much choice. Even a crit would be questionable at piercing the bone behind the skin. She needed something soft that would disable the Lancer if she dealt damage and they handled the Priest. She activated her talents.
Active Focused Critical: Eyes, Extended Critical Range, Extra Critical Damage
Hasha hesitated. He was helpless at the moment, and depending on how long it took for her to crit, this would be a long process. It seemed cruel to do this.
Down below, the Traveler’s hands scrambled before grabbing something. His arm became a blur.
A patch of the roof in front of her shattered, a stone flying straight through the wood. Splinters flew at her, and she barely covered her face in time.
The fucker had thrown a rock at her. To hell with mercy. She aimed with her rifle.