Something about karma. It was difficult to really process some flowery prose beneath the weight of inevitability that was staring straight into my soul. Took many easy wins handed to me on a silver platter. Now the bill had arrived, and it turned out that less of the meal had been complimentary than I had expected. Spent too long eating like a king, and now I was royally screwed.
“Zombie pigmen,” I muttered, more to make the picture develop in my brain better - as if shaking it about would clarify the odd situation I was now in.
//Over a hundred hostiles… why does this thing only go up to ninety-nine…
I worked my jaw. It was unlike Rodney to filter useless chatter through comms unless the situation required it. This was one of those times. Despite my mysterious hermit history, I wasn’t actually a stranger to pop culture, and I knew where the weakness of a zombie lay.
Conveniently, it was in the same place a living pigman had one.
The revolver kicked out two demonic shots into the nearest zombie’s head before I switched to the next. I paused, as the first didn’t drop. My gun moved back to the first, and I emptied the other three shots, destroying the majority of his head.
The enormous figure stopped, wavered for a second, and then slowly stumbled towards me. In the near distance, I saw a crocodile demon lifted into the air and his arms pulled apart from his body, bloody mess spraying everywhere.
“Uh, line?” I stepped backward, before my peripheral reminded me I was now surrounded. Somehow, I needed to get that Hunter out of here. I pushed my glasses up and detected the artefact - finding it now only twenty feet away, protected by just as many feet belonging to resurrected pigmen.
[This is remarkably unusual.]
My vision returned to normal just in time for me to notice the slow swing of a heavy arm from behind me. I rolled and felt the displaced air over my head. It was a wonder my hat stayed on. With a quick turn, I emptied the reloaded cylinder into the zombie - chunks of flesh slumping to the floor around them but not hindering their approach.
//Redd Death is getting massacred, be wary.
The Blank might not have a particular affinity for my odd gang, but the news was to inform me that more empty eye sockets of the porking dead would be swiveling my way in short order.
A crimson trail erased a chunk of a living pigman on the way to bursting the heart of one glowing blue.
“Damn. We’re in cannon range of the dove, right?” I found some amusement in the odd phrase, despite the predicament we were in.
[Correct.]
A swirl of cold feathers ran through both my arms as Wight needed to filter more of his power in for our massive attack.
Several dropped to the floor, too much of their body rent from existence to be able to function. Others stumbled, horrific damage wrought to their bodies as entire sections of them were missing - the wounds still crackling and burning from my power - yet they still stood.
Shock hit me almost as hard as a blunt object from my blind spot, and I tumbled to the floor before regaining my footing. Wight filtered in through my left arm to put my dislocated shoulder back in position with a pop that made me wince. Eyes surrounded me. I focused mine on the dove.
I moved. Ran and leaped into a dive through the cratered pigman before me, soaring over his intestines as I landed into a forward roll.
There was no point in trying to destroy them, but my time to move would be running low. Even as I proceeded, I could sense the press of them, their one-track mind seeing me as the sole attraction in whatever sordid play I was putting on. The dialogue wasn’t much, but the light effects were to die for. Crimson beams flashed through the air as I tried to waylay any attack against me.
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Chunks of muscle rent from legs, so they stumbled. Holes blown through hands careening toward me. Necks, knees, and elbows blasted apart - yet still they persisted. Blocking any attacks became untenable, as they had dropped their weapons and swung or grabbed out toward me with empty fists. Somehow stronger.
I rent crimson holes through all the joints of the pigman blocking my path. I could feel we had been using a decent amount of demonic power - still a good amount remaining, but I couldn’t continue against the risen pigs for much longer if this was what it took to fell one.
Just past the one I had pinned with the ten shots, there it was - the dove. I rolled toward it and plucked it from the mud. I spun back in the loose circle of opponents to see the sea of glowing pigmen between my current location and where Max was still hiding up. Maybe I shouldn’t have put a bullet in his foot.
Eh. He wasn’t able to move with his stomach injuries, anyway. Who was I kidding? I had done the pragmatic thing. It would be water under the bridge as soon as I saved him, and he came back to mine for some pancakes. Oh, I’d have to make them now. Sad.
//Sixty hostiles between you and the target.
There were at least that many, or as far as I could guess, in all directions. Most of the crocs must have been killed by now, or hopefully escaped. I had no idea how many of the demons existed within the Lowers, but hopefully this hadn’t decimated their numbers.
“Any ideas?” I licked my lips, a terrible risk in the midst of a pigmen, but found myself too numb to taste anything more than my own sweat and vomit.
[Do not die.]
Helpful. I had a few seconds to think, maybe just three. The smartest move would be to return to the basement - but if I did, then it would render Max’s artefact inert… at least that was what I remembered from my training a few years back. The connection would be severed. Plus, dropping back into the Lowers would put me on the wrong side of their cavern village.
This was my just desserts for living it large and escaping guaranteed death by a matter of fated luck. Something brute force wouldn’t be able to carve me out of. Neither would the divine or eldritch abilities be of any use. Perhaps the detective skill was chosen in error - I needed a tactical nuke of energy.
Last second before they were upon me. I spun the revolver and holstered it.
‘Avoidance time.’
Allowing Wight full control of my body had two benefits. The first being he had much better reaction times, and could move my body with greater speed and strength. My vision rolled as a pigman clobbered my numbed body across the floor, almost putting me straight into a bear hug from another. The second thing was hardly being able to feel any damage I sustained.
‘Just go home if you feel I can’t physically take any more.’
[Going now would be advisable. However, it is your mortal form.]
He was just testing me. There was no chance he would allow me to die after how far we had come. Although the Org had a dim view of mission failure, they wouldn’t execute me for not being able to save a pair of dumbass low level Hunters. Even if my gang were partially responsible. Not that Max was a dumbass, of course - especially if he was able to play poker.
I watched as I slid between two towering pigmen, almost cartwheeling into the horde of unrelenting figures. They were becoming more dense the closer we got to the house. My body stumbled as my leg bent at an odd angle after it was clipped by a swung fist. Black mist swirled around it and I kept moving, ducking beneath the follow-up of a second opponent.
A slide between the legs where I tried to keep my eyes shut, and then immediately a roll to the side to avoid a stomping foot. My arm was grabbed, but Wight dislocated all the joints to slip out of my jacket. My noodle arm reformed as parts were connected expertly as they were supposed to be. I felt nothing but a dull ache and slight horror.
‘Remember when you burst swords made of my own bone from my arms?’
[Best to not distract me, Eric. But that was awesome.]
In retrospect, sure. I had glazed over most of that whole encounter after the whole fight with the Mantid Queen and the first use of the full form of Hell Cannon. As I watched my body contort and avoid all manner of danger, I wondered if another attack ability would also have some kind of True form. Maybe there was even a True Detect? A question for a slightly less busy patron.
With a roll and hop over one of the bodies I had destroyed - I saw it - the building where the Hunter was hiding. Just a handful of pigmen stood before us both and Max. The dove was still in my hand - and for some reason, lots of blood. My blood. The possession stopped me from losing control.
//Hostiles are… stopping?
Wight slid my body to a stop and turned to look behind. The whole throng of maybe two-hundred pigmen now stood like statues with both their arms in the air.
I was about to make a quip about them giving up - when a beam of blue light shot out from where I assumed the Warlord still stood. Acting like energy pylons, the attack bounced between the open space between the pigmen hands, growing in length and intensity every time it did so.
[I believe this is one for you, Eric.]
He dropped to normal possession and immediately pain wracked my body, agony pulsing up my right leg and both arms. Putting me on the spot like this was a bit of a leap of faith - maybe I couldn’t just pull skills out of my back pocket whenever needed - even if it was enough damage to make it worth it, there was no guarantee that-
My face became awash with blue light as the skill finished the trail through the receptive demons and blasted toward me. I held up aching arms, feeling the surge of eldritch power rising within me just when needed.