Chilly looked down from the outcropping with a growing sense of awe. Overnight the entire town of Teluria had awakened through the dual efforts of Gar-Khan and Rahlin. Below, at the base of Mount Teluria, nearly half the population of the mountain village was bustling under the Rahlin’s industrious orders. His red dragon scales flashed in the cyan glow of the Frozen Wastes, as lesser Dragonborn and Warforged scurried to hurry along the preparation.
And what preparation it was.
Dozens of carts and wagons were arrayed in long orderly rows, with another half dozen partially assembled still in the process of joining their brethren. Skills fired in rapid succession, cutting into the wood, or otherwise shaping pieces to hurry up the construction such that everything would be ready before the reset. Seeing skills used in a non-violent manner was super cool, and Chilly couldn’t get enough of the villagers using arcs of electricity to weld fragments of metal together.
“My goodness,” Chilly murmured, shocked at the magnitude of change he had inadvertently brought along. A couple hours ago, he had finished hashing out his plan with the two de facto leaders of the village. They had changed a couple pieces, primarily modifications that would increase the safety of the participants, but overall the core of the plan was still his own.
A pair of penguins glomping onto an invisible object floating at around head height pulled his attention away from the preparation for a moment. He idly glanced their way, noticing how they bobbed up and down as if they were holding onto something that was walking, but then turned back to the preparations.
“Have you seen Chaeli?” Gar-Khan rumbled at his side. The large Yawm had done much to rouse the villagers, and even now periodically sent out orders to speed the preparations. He had been reluctant, but once the decision had been made he had worked tirelessly to see it through. For that, he had Chilly’s respect.
“Hmm,” Chilly said. “Not at all. Why? Is she missing?”
“Indeed.” Gar-Khan rumbled. “A wayward child, lost and alone, is closer than ever to the eternal rest of the dead.”
“I would put more faith in her,” Chilly replied. “She is more capable than you know. Who knows, maybe she has hit level fifteen since last you saw her.”
“You mistake me, human,” Gar-Khan said, then paused to relay some information to a nimble Warforged who immediately sprinted off towards the row of carts under construction. “I do not protect her from leveling because I fear for her capability. It is simply a shame to sacrifice the joy and freedom of childhood when such an act is unnecessary.”
Chilly blinked, realizing that in this world a kid could simply...never grow up. “Huh, never thought of that. She does want to be an adult though.”
“The grass is always greener on the other side.”
“Hmpf,” Chilly huffed as another two carts were completed. “I don’t think that you have to abandon childhood the moment you become an adult. Stopping her from leveling is just preventing her from doing what she loves. Getting stronger and all that.”
“Strength is relative, human,” Gar-Khan said, turning one of his smaller eyes on him. “Fights at level fourteen are the same as fights at level thirty. They are simply less dangerous. And there are more fulfilling forms of growing stronger than leveling.”
“Like Ria’s Broken Heart?”
“I was referring to upgrading items, and finding fulfilling teammates, but boss drops do fall into that category.”
“Replace the worm,” a penguin accused, shaking its head. “No respect for the flames.”
Chilly repressed a chuckle, “So that special essence always drops from the Brine King?”
“Indeed. You will find many of the Dragonborns within this dungeon to bear the mark of that essence.”
“But not you.”
“I gain little from the additional fire damage that such an essence would impart. You, on the other hand, would benefit much from such a racial augment.”
Chilly frowned.
“While the heart may as well be of divine design for how well it suits you, do you think you could live with the knowledge that using it would damn the sisters to an eternity of loneliness?”
“Yeah, it would eat at me.” Chilly muttered, drawing an odd glance from the large Yawm.
Chilly and Gar-Khan watched the chaos below as the veritable war party of villagers finished up the last of the carts and hitched the assemblies to...a couple of willing Warforged. The lack of beasts of burden was clearly telling, but the large machine-like tree people were unbothered by the treatment.
“Are there any other essences like Ria’s Broken Heart in the dungeon? Do you have a stash stored?”
Gar-Khan shook his large head, the various purple worms wriggling aggressively for a moment. “There are. The Endless One drops a similar essence that empowers cold damage, however, we do not keep any as their storage is too difficult to keep long term.”
“The heart disappears in air.”
“Right,” Chilly said. “The essence disappears in air. Can’t you just use an essence vault for that though?”
Gar-Khan gave him a look, “The essence vault can extend the essence’s lifespan but there is enough air within the dimensional membrane to destroy it despite the protections of the vault.”
“Huh,” Chilly said
“Use the jar of dirt and add water.” Nobody the penguin chirped, then broke into song. “~A jar of hearts!~”
“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Chilly said.
“What is?”
“Oh nothing, have you ever tried burying it, or dunking it in water?”
“Water slows down the dissolution but does not stop it completely. I must confess that I have not tried burying the essence myself. I expect you will have to work quite hard to protect volatile essences from dissolving in their entirety.” Gar-Khan replied. “Why the sudden fascination in hoarding unique essences?”
“No reason,” Chilly waved him away. “Just a thought exercise. Something to puzzle over while we wait.”
Of course, that wasn’t the reason that Chilly was so interested in preserving the essence, but despite the relatively agreeable change in Gar-Khan after Rahlin’s insistence, neither of the Telurians thought favorably of freeing the Guardians. They saw it as a waste of time at best, and extremely dangerous at worst. So, for now. Chilly would keep it to himself, and prove them wrong once they helped him free Sooty.
“The reset is nigh.” Gar-Khan rumbled, turning his main eye high as a wave of barely perceptible, distorted air passed over them.
Monsters spawned in a familiar tide and instantly began to fight amongst themselves. Beside him, Gar-Khan gave him a nod, then stepped forwards.
“March!” the purple Yawm roared and broke into a casual jog directly into the fray. The rest of the villagers roared their agreement and joined their Mayor. Warforged rushed forwards, pulling great weapons out of their holsters as Dragonborn unsheathed a variety of wands, staves, and swords as they joined the charge. Near the back, the few Warforged holstered to the carts grunted and began to accelerate their heavy burdens.
It made for a fearsome force, but the monsters were not intimidated. The nearest turned to face them and let loose a roar of rage, temporarily abandoning their incessant war to charge the plucky Telurians.
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In response, Gar-Khan sped up. His digitigrade legs slammed into the frozen earth with enough force to shatter the rime. He shot past the front-most villagers, and with a clean flourish, slipped his dual wands out of his belt and unleashed a bolt of rolling purple chaos at the horde.
The small, slow, and rather unimpressive bolt dribbled out into the intervening space with barely more speed than Gar-Khan himself. The slow pace made it easily dodgeable, but the mindless monsters seemed to take offense at the pathetic projectile. A beefy Wendigo near the front of the horde, curved its stride so that the bolt would hit him with an almost prideful glare of derision in its beady undead eyes.
Before the bolt could hit, Gar-Khan raised his wands high and a ripple of purple power rushed out to spawn a large pentagram beneath the frontmost monsters. The front edge of the purple ring appeared beneath the lead Wendigo and its flesh immediately began to peel and decay as Gar-Khan’s skill took hold. The Wendigo let out a scoffing chuckle as its rapid regeneration instantly repaired the damage and it redoubled its stride.
Then the purple bolt hit.
Flesh rotted at incredible speed as the Wendigo’s beady little eyes shot open wide. Flesh bubbled as pustules of decayed fluid exploded all over its already diseased flesh. The Wendigo’s regeneration struggled mightily to overcome the spell but failed utterly as Gar-Khan’s magic shredded all resistance.
In two steps, not a single ounce of flesh was left unmutated, and the chaotic magic began to work on its bones. Purple power erupted from within the visible vertebrae, giving it an otherworldly cast. Then the power intensified, and what bones were visible began to flake and peel such that a wake of white powder misted along the Wendigo’s path.
It took one final step then collapsed bonelessly as bits of meat sloughed out like a particularly nasty slime.
The battlefield stilled in horror for a fraction of eternity as everyone observed the fate of the Wendigo, then a pulse of purple energy rippled over the corpse. Before anyone could do anything, every ounce of energy vanished in a puff and a sinister, nearly ten-meter wide pentacle manifested underneath the body and glowed with a nefarious light.
Immediately, wails of pain erupted from the monsters running overtop the pentacle. Their flesh contorted and bubbled as an entire section of the horde stumbled beneath the might of the level nineteen Yawm.
“Give ‘em hell boys!” A guttural roar raged from the side of the battlefield and Chilly snapped his gaze in that direction only to see a familiar barkeep blurring into the horde and delivering a dropkick to an unsuspecting Pistol Shrimp that hit with such force that the poor crustacean shattered into pieces. Rahlin let loose a belly-deep laugh and slapped his breastplate with a crack of sound. A glimmer of magic flared, and suddenly his vermillion scales took on a metallic cast.
A Wendigo slashed at Rahlin from behind, but its claws bounced off the barkeep's empowered scales with a spray of orange sparks. In a blur of movement that had to be a skill, Rahlin vanished and appeared behind the Wendigo as six phantom dragon claws ripped deep gouges into the undead. For good measure, he spun and punched the Wendigo in the base of its spine so hard that vertebrae shattered out the front of its diseased stomach.
Behind the two leaders, the rest of the villagers came. Skills flashed as the entirety of the front row vanished, blurred, or otherwise accelerated to close the distance. Then they collided with the horde and pandemonium ensued. Bone claws clashed with heavy steel as gouts of fire sputtered in the face of elegant translucent shields that appeared all over the battlefield from some unknown villager.
The battle line held for a second, then the monsters buckled as the corpses piled up. The numerous active skills of the Telurians hit the monsters like a dump truck hits an isekai protagonist; hard, fast, and with no chance of survival.
Wendigos reeled as the hard carapace of the Pistol Shrimp cracked under the mighty onslaught, and in moments the first wave of monsters fell.
Death spread out in a ring of absolute devastation, yet still more monsters swarmed, the commotion drawing them from far in the distance. They came and were culled by the line of warriors, only for their numbers to replenish as Warforged scouts kited vast hordes into the line.
“Advance, and collect!” Rahlin roared, breaking through the din of monster snarls and hundreds of skills going off at once.
Immediately, more than half of the fighting force split off and began collecting the bodies. With numerous grimaces of disgust, the Telurians threw the corpses into the steadily advancing wagons as Rahlin and Gar-Khan marched deeper into the Wastes. Despite the dramatic loss of manpower, the line held strong and even pushed the undead back. The initial charge of monsters was depleted and the remaining warriors eradicated the stragglers with swift strikes that spoke of a lifetime of conflict.
Chilly gulped near the back, far enough that his domain did not infringe upon any of the corpse wagons, and began to slowly walk after the retreating battlefront. How had he ever doubted these peoples’ skill? So many skills were flying that he doubted that he could survive for even a moment if he was stuck on the other side.
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Several hours passed like this until every cart was brimming with mountains of fallen monsters. The group was deep within the Wastes, having traveled at a relatively slow, but consistent pace since the morning. There was a general sense of exhaustion from the Dragonborn, but the Warforged stayed strong, pulling the wagons and fighting with the same inexhaustible fervor that they had shown at the beginning of the reset.
The monsters had thinned slightly since the initial rush, but there were still many many more that seemed magnetically attracted to the convoy. It had devolved to the point where the sides of the procession were constantly assaulted by the beasts, which made them have to fight on three fronts at once. Luckily, due to Chilly picking up the rear, there was little worry of an attack from behind.
Suddenly, the Jaws theme began to play and Chilly’s gaze snapped up.
“It’s here!” he shouted, refraining from jogging forwards.
The call was picked up and within seconds the front row paused to behold an orderly line of monsters waiting patiently for them in the distance. At the line's head, stood a familiar silhouette of He Who Walks Behind. It had grown since last time. Standing taller than every other Wendigo in the tundra by at least a head and a half. Its horns glowed with red power and silver wisps of wind fluttered around its cloven hooves. A dull ring of purple miasma spread from under its feet. Outlining and easily identifying it as the greatest threat among the horde of low-leveled monsters.
A susurration rose from the villagers. They had been informed of the Named, but there was a massive difference between being told of a legend’s existence, and seeing one face to face. Especially when said Named dwarfed their life pool by an order of magnitude.
“Back up!” roared Rahlin, gesturing with a raised fist. “Leave the carts!”
The procession of villagers shuffled for a second then retreated in a semi-orderly fashion. Everyone knew the plan, but there was still some roughhousing as the people reluctantly retreated into Chilly’s domain. The carts full of dead were left behind for the undead. An act that felt counterintuitive. Feeding their enemies, instead of killing them.
The line of monsters stood still, held unnaturally quiet as the Named exerted its indomitable will upon the low leveled mobs. Even when every villager was a good distance from the corpses, He Who Walks Behind stood still. Its gaze scanning over the carts and the villagers with a keen intelligence.
Gar-Khan and Rahlin joined Chilly in the front, silently observing the monsters across the way.
“It’s level nineteen.” Gar-Khan rumbled, his numerous eyes narrowed to near slits as he observed the Named.
“Yeah,” Chilly returned, distracted. This part of the plan was the most volatile. It all rested upon the Wendigo falling for the literal mountain of corpses arrayed before them.
“You lied.” Gar-Khan rumbled, slapping a large purple hand onto Chilly’s shoulder.
“Exaggerated,” Chilly shot him a glance, shrugging off the large hand. “You would not have moved otherwise.”
“Perhaps,” Gar-Khan said, then gestured to the Named. “It remains still. Your plan is already failing.”
Chilly grimaced, then stepped forward.
“Wendigo!” Chilly shouted across the space. “We bring you a feast. A gift of supplication to bolster your rise!”
Finally, the Named stirred. It rose to its full height and ambled closer. With a careless gesture, it pulled a limb from one of the carts and brought it to its mouth. Sharp, needle-like teeth clamped shut around the diseased flesh, then ripped a piece off that disappeared in an instant down its gullet.
With a contemptuous flick, it tossed the leg to the side and glared at Chilly with its two glowing eyes.
“This meat is weak.” He Who Walks Behind gurgled, a mixture of bodily fluids seeping down its front, and pooling in the cavity above its pelvis.
“It is,” Chilly agreed, struggling to suppress a nearly seizure-level shudder at the grotesque sight. “These low-leveled mobs couldn’t hope to satiate you, but perhaps there is a quality in quantity so to speak. You see, we’ve prepared a huge feast just for you.”
Chilly spread his arms wide as if to encapsulate the two dozen wagons full to the brim with monster corpses. The Named glanced at the array with disinterest, but a hungry glint caught in his gaze.
“A quality in quantity...” He Who Walks Behind gurgled, lifting a decapitated torso high in its grip then taking another experimental chomp. “Perhaps there is some...” It took another bite. “...wisdom in that.” It took another bite. “You please me...” It ripped out a large chunk of meat and swallowed it whole.
Chilly grimaced but signaled to Rahlin who quickly organized the villagers in a measured - if hasty - retreat. The Named chomped on the meat with gusto, consuming vast quantities of meat that simply disappeared down its gullet as if by magic. In barely a minute, a full wagon of meat vanished down the Wendigos gullet and the monster shifted to the next wagon. Behind it, the line of monsters shuddered as Wendigos struggled to rush forward to eat but some invisible force held them back.
“That’s it?” A young Warforged unfamiliar to Chilly muttered, as the group of sapients retreated. “What the hell was the point of all that, then?”
“Shut it, sprout!” Rahlin grumbled, batting the offending Warforged in the back of the helmet with a massive fist. “Focus on marching. We’ve gotta make some distance fer what comes next.”
They backed away. Leaving behind a slowly fading spotlight of ground effects as the Wendigo feasted. The second cart emptied, then the third, and still the line of monsters was held steady.
The Wendigo continued feasting even as the villagers became specks on the horizon.
It continued feasting as a rumbling shook the earth.
It continued feasting as two titanic shapes crested the horizon.
“Everything going to be fine?”
“Oh, yeah,” Chilly let loose a smug smirk as the two bosses of the cold biome professed their rage at whoever had the gall to slay their children.