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Chapter Forty-Nine

Tarn waited for initiative to begin, but instead he found himself faced with new yellow text inside his mental interface, the crisp lettering pulsing at him impatiently.

INITIATIVE PENDING

One Pulse to select squad Squad size: 4

1. Tarn Arisfal (required)

2. [Open]

3. [Open]

4. [Open]

Okay, pending initiative? He had seen something similar outside the sword, where his gem seemed to allow only four participants in the combat against the Thartark. It was happening again?

The Sword Dungeon had warned him their gems would be taxed to their limits just keeping them alive. It seemed to Tarn that his gem was the focal point for the team, but perhaps it was not strong enough to manage beyond four.

The seconds ticked away. He could only see three options available – portraits of Bog, Narsol, and Lash were clear in the interface, with the rest of the team’s pictures grayed out.

He slotted the three in the available spaces and was rewarded with an audible chime in his mind.

SQUAD SELECTION COMPLETE DIRE TIMBER – AMBUSH ROUND

Tarn’s interface worked overtime to convey information about their threat, but his mind was playing catch up with the data. Now what – an ambush round?

The first beast that came out of the smoke was a wolf, steam rising from the exhalation at its snout. It was larger than any wolf Tarn had ever seen before, its muscled body covered with dark fur the color of smoldering ash. In fact, at closer inspection Tarn could see the wolf itself seemed to be covered in embers and soot, as if it exuded flame from its very essence.

As more of the pack prowled their way forward, Tarn quickly checked on their description.

Dire Timber

AP: 50

Status effects: [smoke aura] [casting: dire timber pack leader]

If the Dire Timber pack can get within 30 feet of a target without detection, an ambush round will be triggered. Each wolf may get a free move action, up to 30 feet. Normal initiative will then commence, with the dire timber pack going first.

Note: Can only be cast by the Dire Timber Pack Leader. The Pack Leader does not have to join the attack.

Still frozen, and watching his enemy get a free series of attacks, Tarn’s concern was growing. Charging forward out of the mix of ash and snow, four of the beasts snarled as they ran towards Tarn and the team. They seemed to bring the chill of the wind with them, and Tarn could feel the decrease in temperature as they approached.

Enemy status Dire Timber: AP 50

Pack Morale: 100%

Status effects: Shrouding [I], Chilled [I], Smoke Aura

Chilled – Enemies in melee distance of the Dire timber will lose -5 temperature per pulse.

Dire Timber 1 – AP 50/50

Dire Timber 2 – AP 50/50

Dire Timber 3 – AP 50/50

Dire Timber 4 – AP 50/50

Dire Timber 5 – AP 50/50

Dire Timber 6 – AP 50/50

Six? Tarn counted only four, pounding through the snow as they raced forward. Shit, two are shrouded.

A pair of the wolves leapt in the air, slamming into Bog as a unit and knocking her back several steps. While one wolf simply nipped at her legs and circled back, the other bit into her left forearm and hung on tightly. Tarn saw her take only 30 AP damage total from the attacks, which was better than he had hoped. But the inevitable status effect rolled in.

Mauled – May not make a melee attack against another target while the mauling dire timber is in melee range. Attacks against the mauling dire timber by the mauled target do 50% less damage. Damage from ranged attacks against the mauling dire timber are split, with 50% going to the mauling victim.

The mauling dire timber will only release on death or morale failure.

Bog also lost 10 temperature due to the two wolves in her proximity. The other two wolves ran around Bog, one settling on Narsol while the other stood in front of Tarn, its movement used up.

INITIATIVE SHIFT

Bog had already selected her action, her free hand bringing her orange battle axe around her in an arc. Though it wobbled a bit as she swung, it caught the wolf that nipped her and sent it careening away, losing half its AP and slamming into an icy rock.

Tarn nodded with appreciation. Bog had chosen to ignore the wolf already clamped upon her arm, as painful as it might be, because she knew her role. Tying up attackers was her job, and anything in melee with her wasn’t bothering him and Lash.

Freeing Tarn up to help her back.

Tarn quickly called up , feeling the mystic wood of the crimson longbow come into his hands. He didn’t need to shout instructions to the others, this wasn’t Jental and Aryo. The goal here was obvious: take the wolves down. He selected [long pull] for the extra damage and focused on the wolf clamped down on Bog’s arm.

Releasing, his arrow streaked across the frigid mist of the battlefield and connected with the ash-colored beast. It cried out with a yelp, while Bog remained silent. Tarn knew the damage had been split between the two, but he needed this thing off her. He figured the damage would be enough to lower the threshold for her to take it out.

Narsol had taken his first action to activate his pyramid, and the gold-colored structure took shape around him. Meanwhile Lash tossed a greater healing spike into the ground at Bog’s feet, restoring all of the orc bruiser’s lost AP.

In the second pulse, Bog lobbed a simple [haymaker] attack into the skull of the wolf locked upon her arm. It took more damage, but still refused to let go. Meanwhile two of the golden metallic cubes Tarn had seen Narsol use in previous combats flew into the air, attaching themselves to the wolf facing him.

The wolf directly in front of Tarn growled with anticipation of its next pulse, but Tarn was confident he could take whatever damage the beast would dish out.

Lash could take no action, as his used both of his pulses. Seeing both Narsol and Bog had things well in hand, Tarn elected to fire his bow at the wolf Bog had sent careening into the rocks.

He was rewarded with a distant death howl from the creature, as it cried out and began to dissolve into a collection of energy and shimmering particles. Through the blowing snow, Tarn saw something large drop to the ground where the wolf dissolved, too big to be a gem. A flow of resolve points fluttered across the battlefield, landing within his and Bog’s gem.

With one wolf down but two still hidden, the pulse was over. Tarn checked his status as the immobility of still-time took him over.

ENEMY STATUS

Dire timber 1 – AP 10/50 Status effects: Mauling

Dire timber 3 – AP 50/50 Status effects: Magnetized

Dire timber 4 – AP 50/50

Dire timber 5 – AP 50/50 Status effects: Shrouded

Dire timber 6 – AP 50/50 Status effects: Shrouded

Pack morale: 75%

He noted the morale change as his interface turned red. No doubt due to the loss of one of the pack, it seemed likely the group of wolves would run if it dropped low enough. If the death of each wolf dropped the morale by 25%, this might not be so bad after all.

INITATIVE SHIFT

To his surprise, the pair of shrouded wolves stepped out into the world, simply materializing in the center of the fracas, out of melee range of any of the team. He had not forgotten about them, but Tarn had expected either he or Lash to be ambushed by the hidden creatures.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The two huge canines began to howl in a joined chorus, as the white gale whipped ice and snow around them. Their song was almost piercingly beautiful, but the words that flashed across Tarn’s were hardly a thing of beauty.

WINTER’S LAMENT (Unique, Sustained / Dire timber)

Requires: Two dire timber

The pair of dire timber howl in concert, using both their actions. So long as both dire timber remain singing, the following effects are active:

* At the end of the dire timber pulse, Pack Morale is increased by 20%. (Note: Pack Morale may not exceed 100%)

* The effect of [chilled] gains an additional -5 degrees

[Winter’s Lament] is only interrupted if both howling dire timbers are attacked.

We all walk the bridge between life and death, between fires of truth and the cold lies. Each can burn, each can heal.

As the howling cry filled his ears, the air around Tarn grew colder as the gray frost emanating from the wolf before him dropped in temperature. With a dire timber in melee range of all of them but Lash, the wolves wouldn’t have to damage them enough to win this fight.

The cold was going to do it for them.

The wolf mauling Bog continued its attack, taking another 20 AP from her total. Lash’s greater healing spike was offsetting much of that damage, but that wasn’t the concern. Checking his interface, Tarn could see her temperature was down to 20%. She’d be close to zero in another two rounds, or worse if the wolves had more tricks.

Narsol’s wolf had also managed to [maul] him, clamped onto his leg with a powerful set of jaws. This reduced his movement rather than his damage, but it still kept the Obelisk from engaging the two howlers.

The wolf at Tarn’s front chose to [Nip] him, a low damage move that gave the dire timber an additional movement boost. Streaking away from him, it then charged at the surprised Lash. The gremlin let out a cry as the beast caught him in a vicious bite, taking 30 AP as it ran by, finishing outside melee range.

Their pulse ending, Tarn received an update that the pack morale was back to 95% thanks to the effects of [Winter’s Lament]. One more round for the wolves and it would be back to 100%, while Bog and Narsol were [mauled], Lash pinned, and all of them in decreasing temperature.

This had to end this round. Somehow. Another full turn for the dire timbers would likely be lethal.

INITIATIVE SHIFT

As his interface turned green, the wind began whipping into Tarn’s face. It sent shivers through his body as the unnatural, magical cold caused by the wolves seemed to eat through any protection his gem could offer.

Tarn was about to call up his flail, planning to use [Get Me There] to bring him to the howling wolves and at least be in position to attack one this round, two the following. Assuming they all live that long.

Magical cold. The words interrupted his thoughts, leaving the flail unsummoned. He looked at the wolves, as they exuded frost from their ash-colored fur. At first glance, he had thought that they were actually on fire, but now he saw that they had been burned. The train perhaps.

They were magically cold wolves, quickly freezing his team to death. They needed to end this faster than simple damage would allow. But there was the morale counter.

What would a magically cold wolf be afraid of?

Tarn called up [Flaming Bow], and the longbow in his hands burst into mystic conflagrations. He could feel the warmth of the weapon as he held it in his hands. His temperature indeed increased, but the minor +5 bonus was not enough to offset the wolf-empowered cold, but that wasn’t the point.

Tarn took aim at the left of the two howling wolves. Having the [flaming] modification on meant he couldn’t buff the damage, but that was okay as well.

He released his shot and watched as the crimson shaft streaked into the center of the clearing. Burying itself into the shoulder flank of the beast, the howl was briefly interrupted by a yelp of pain. The damage was only 20 AP, but the status effect of [burning] is what Tarn cared about.

In an eyeblink, he saw the message he’d been hoping for.

Status [Burning]

Pack Morale reduced: 25%

Current Pack Morale: 70%

The effects of [Winter’s Lament] had offset the morale loss, but it was proof of the concept. Now they just needed to get the other of the singing pair to be attacked. The first pulse timer was almost up, and both Bog and Narsol had made their selections – each choosing to melee their respective wolves.

But with seconds to go, Lash had not yet gone. Tarn wasn’t surprised, rather he was grateful to the gremlin’s habit of waiting until the last second to lock in his choice for a pulse.

“Lash!” Tarn shouted over the wind. “Second wolf! Use fire!”

Lash gave him a big thumbs up, and then scrambled across the field towards the second wolf.

Wait – what is he – oh shit. Tarn had tried to memorize all the abilities that each of them had slotted, but the cold made his head feel like mud.

With the reload requirement of [Flaming Bow], Tarn either had to spend his second pulse reloading, or sacrifice the weapon for the rest of the battle. They’d need the fire to reduce the rest of the morale. He’d just have to hope Lash had enough tricks to survive any counter attack.

The gremlin laughed as he tossed a small rolled up group of fireworks into the air. Guided by a pair of lavender-colored hands, they found themselves underneath the front paw of the other howling wolf.

Hotfoot (Melee / Trickster)

The Trickster places a small set of firecrackers underneath the foot of their target. The device ignites at the beginning of the target’s next pulse, inflicting 10 AP damage as well as the [burned] and [deafened] status effects.

It’s those things that make you go boom.

They had a plan, it was just a question of what happened first – the effects of the wolves’ howl, or Lash’s timed attack.

INTERFACE SHIFT Effect: Hotfoot

Tarn cheered as the packet underneath the beast’s paw exploded in a series of bright flashes, and loud pops that rang across the battlefield. The persistent howl the pair had been producing ended immediately, replaced by yelps as both were impacted by the status effect.

Pack Morale reduced: 50%

Current Pack morale: 45%

As the attack landed, Tarn was rewarded with an ear-splitting howl. The remaining wolves all stopped in unison, throwing their heads up in the air and wailing, shaken by the flaming state of their wounded comrade.

His interface turned yellow again, signaling a change in combat:

Pack Morale below 50% - Retreat engaged INITIATIVE PAUSE: INTENT CHECK

Intent check?

Tarn pondered this as the beasts began to flee, kicking up clouds of snow as they turned and ran towards the apparent safety of the great trestle bridge. The structure was lost in the twisting confines of the canyon before them, but Tarn could feel its ancient presence all the same.

His interface continued to flash, Tarn realizing it was waiting for his decision. Thinking through the cold that addled his braid felt like wading in mud, but he considered the idea of pursuit. It was tempting, taking the fight to them. It was in effect the same argument he’d had with Ramad.

But this was tactics, not politics. They were hurt, and Isca and the others were not back. For all he knew, the wolves were merely guiding them to the safety of the rest of the pack.

INTENT RECORDED

As his interface acknowledged his decision, Tarn felt full control come back into his limbs. The fight was over, even if some of his comrades did not want it to be.

“They run!” Bog shouted with glee as she shook her fist at the running wolves. Her voice shook, though he could not be sure if it was with battle fury or cold. “Come! They cannot run from their pain so easily!”

“No, Bog!” Tarn shouted. He was gratified as she stopped mid-stride in the ankle-deep snow, halting her run. Her face was filled with her disappointment, but still she listened. “We’re too cold, and we don’t know where they are running to.”

“She’s right - we will continue this fight!” Narsol began to run after the wolves, either not noticing or not caring that Bog had halted.

“Narsol!” Tarn put all of his anger into his voice, a commanding tone that left no doubt. “Stop and get back here! We’re done.”

The orc did stop, turning to glower back at Tarn across the blowing snow.

“Why?” He gestured back at the fleeing wolves. “Why don’t we pursue? Are we cowards? Our enemy is weak and injured, even a fool can see that. Why are we done?”

“We’re done.” Tarn narrowed his eyes, and turned away from the orc. “Because I said we’re done.”

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind it was the right decision. The wolves were injured and their morale was broken, so they were running to somewhere that made them feel safe. Whatever place that was, Tarn didn’t want a half-frozen team headed there.

He heard a derisive grunt behind him, then the slow crunching of Narsol moving back towards them through the snow. Tarn released his frustrations slowly, feeling a slight tremble from the cold as he exhaled into the chilled air.

“Lash like that fight, Boss!” The gremlin smiled up at him, his teeth starting to chatter. “Finally got to use firecrackers! But Boss right, big green. Wolves maybe go to find more wolves.”

“There will be another time!” Pushing through the ankle-snow to catch up with her, Tarn slapped Bog on the shoulder. “Now we need to get warmed up. I’d guess those wolves are headed to the bridge. Unless there’s a cave or something in this canyon, there’s nowhere else for them to go. Let’s see what Smiley finds out.”

He had a momentary thought of concern for Urthin. Those dire timbers were headed in the monk’s direction. But if there was anyone in the team he wouldn’t worry about on their own, it was Urthin.

“You fight well.” Narsol beamed at Bog, his face still flush from the exertion of the battle. His expression showed no sign of his disagreement with Tarn. “It was an-“

“Stop.” Bog’s face turned ashen as she narrowed her eyes at the orc. “Please do not tell me it was an honor to fight alongside me.”

“I was not.” Narsol paused, clearly biting back his words. “I was merely going to say it was enjoyable. The battle was enjoyable, and now the battle is over.”

Narsol pulled his cloak tighter, jaw setting.

“Oh.” Bog stammered a bit. “Yes. Yeah. It was fun.”

“Lash like Big Green!” The gremlin smiled at Narsol. “He help me in two fights now! Lash need to help him back.”

“Of course, little one.”

“You did help him,” Tarn said, feeling frustration with the Obelisk flare back up. “But you need to listen when I tell you to do something.”

“A tactical disagreement.” Narsol’s tone suggested he was reciting a fact. “I saw the situation differently than you, and expressed that.”

“I’m happy to hear an alternate idea.” Tarn took a step closer, his eyes locked on the orc’s. “When you agreed to come with us, you became part of this team. That means I want to listen to you.”

“But Tarny leads the team. He makes the calls.”

“And why is that?” Narsol turned away from Tarn, facing Bog. “Why is he your leader? He is not the most fearsome fighter. That is you, Bog. He is not the most knowledgeable, that is the Monk. He is not the most mobile, that is your winged companion.”

“Wing-girl name Isca!” Lash leapt to his rival’s defense. “Lash just call her wing-girl because her face scrunch funny when he does it.”

Tarn reached Narsol’s shoulder and forcibly turned him around. Shaking, he braced himself, ready for the orc to strike him. He could see the anger in Narsol’s eyes, but his hands stayed at his side.

“It’s my team, Narsol, because that’s the way we all want it.” He kept the orc locked in his stare. “I don’t claim to be the smartest, or strongest, or anything. Neither do any of them for that matter. I listen to everyone, and I trust all of your instincts. But we all have our jobs on this team, and mine is to make the decisions.”

Narsol looked back, holding Tarn’s gaze. Not budging. Tarn wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

“So if you’re on the team, then you follow my lead. The question is: are you on the team?”