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The Lonely Bard
Chapter 25: Breaking the Black Scales

Chapter 25: Breaking the Black Scales

šŸŽµ: Dash of the Daring, Rise of the Iron Will, Wellspring of Arcana

As soon as the guards enter my range, I let Dash of the Daring fade, ignoring the sudden absence of speed that makes my legs feel like lead. Despite my pounding headache, I begin the first notes of a new song. The raiders, sensing my vulnerability, surge forward with renewed confidenceā€”but they don't realize what's coming.

You stop singing Dash of the Daring!

You sing Rise of the Iron Will!

The change in our mounts is instant and dramatic. Lin's Swiftclaw seems to grow larger, its muscles swelling with enhanced strength while its scales take on a metallic sheen that catches the morning light. The creature's eyes blaze with supernatural intensity, its natural grace amplified by the song's power. Each stride now leaves deep furrows in the earth, raw power evident in every movement. I can feel the energy thrumming through the air, a pulse of magic that echoes in time with the beat of my song.

The first clash comes as a corrupted Swiftclaw leaps at us, its head-frills flaring that sickly green. Lin's mount meets it head-on, enhanced claws tearing through corrupted scales that would have turned normal weapons. The impact sounds like thunder across the plains, but where the corrupted beast relies on unnatural speed, Lin's Swiftclaw now possesses raw power that makes each strike count double. The corrupted beast recoils, its eyes widening in shock as it realizes that its strength is no match for us. Lin urges her mount forward, striking again with relentless ferocity. Each swipe of her mount's claws sends scales flying, the corrupted creature barely able to defend itself.

The raiders try to surround us, but their formation breaks against our enhanced mounts like waves against stone. Their corrupted Swiftclaws' screams take on a different toneā€”not rage now, but fear. For the first time, they face opponents who match their corruption-granted strength, then surpass it entirely. The fear spreads quickly through their ranks like a discordant note in a familiar song, and I see their hesitation in the way they pull their mounts back, searching desperately for gaps in our defenses. But there is no way around. We are unstoppable, and they know it.

"Press them!" Lin shouts as her mount's empowered jaws close on a corrupted Swiftclaw's neck. The creature's supernatural resilience fails against our enhanced strength, scales shattering like glass as her mount twists and tears. "They've faced nothing like this!" Her voice is fierce, filled with the thrill of battle. The raiders falter, their confidence shattered as they witness the sheer power we wield.

Old Tom's mount becomes a living battering ram, its already impressive bulk now moving with unstoppable force. It slams into a cluster of raiders, sending both riders and mounts sprawling across the plains. The corrupted Swiftclaws' unnatural agility means nothing when hit with the equivalent force of a charging elephant. Their black scales crack and splinter under impacts that would normally barely scratch them. Old Tom laughs, a deep, booming sound that carries across the battlefield. "That's right, you bastards! Feel the strength from a Power Song!" He swings his weapon, a heavy mace, with brutal efficiency, striking down any raider that comes too close.

Two raiders try to flank us, their mounts' head-frills pulsing with desperate intensity. Lori and Pak wheel their Swiftclaws around smoothly, arrows already nocked. Their bowstrings sing in unison, and both raiders' corrupted Swiftclaws take devastating hits. The arrows pierce straight through their natural armourā€”something that should have been impossible. But with their enhanced strength, the shafts cut through the beasts' scales like a hot knife through butter. The mounts stagger, screeching in pain, as their riders struggle to maintain control. Lori's grin radiated fierce determination. "Keep them off balance! They can't handle us like this!"

My headache still pounds from the double mana potions, but the thrill of battle helps me maintain focus on the song. Each note strengthens riders and mounts, their natural power amplified beyond what any corruption could match. Where minutes ago they had been the prey, now they fight like legends come to life. I see Pak take down another raider, his Swiftclaw pouncing on the fallen mount with lethal precision. The raider barely has time to scream before Pak's mount tears into him, ending the threat.

The raiders' formation completely shatters as a third corrupted Swiftclaw falls, its twisted body already beginning to crumble into corrupt dust. The remaining raiders exchange panicked looks, their confidence evaporating as they face power greater than their corruption provides. Their mounts bleed from wounds that their unnatural healing can't close fast enough. I can see the fear in their eyes, the way their hands shake as they try to keep their mounts under control. They know they're outmatched, and it's only a matter of time before they break.

Finally, they break and run, their corrupted Swiftclaws' speed now turned to escape rather than pursuit. They flee like common brigands, leaving their dead behind, lifeless forms abandoned without a second thought as they make their escape. Where they had been confident predators, now they scatter in terror before our song-enhanced might. The battlefield is ours, and the power of Rise of the Iron Will still hums in the air, a reminder of our victory.

We stand triumphant amid the aftermath, our mounts still glowing with Iron Will's power. The plains are littered with the bodies of the fallen, the stench of corruption hanging heavy in the air. Lin dismounts, her Swiftclaw still twitching with the lingering effects of the song. She moves to check on the others, her eyes scanning the battlefield for any signs of movement.

Battle Summary

Raiders Defeated: 4 killed, 8 retreated

EXP Gained (You): 450

Loot: Black market mana potions x2, corrupted beast harness, raider's coin purse (28 silver), dark-inscribed map, twisted daggers x3, recruitment notices for the Black Scale Brigade

Lin dismounts, wincing slightly from the fading surge of battle energy as Rise of the Iron Will's effects wear off. "That was... incredible," she says, examining a dent on her mount's enhanced strike left in a fallen raider's armour. "I've never felt strength like that before." Her voice is filled with awe, and she runs her hand along her Swiftclaw's scales, marvelling at the transformation.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Old Tom nods in agreement, his usually stern expression softened by grudging respect. "Aye. Good thing you spotted them when you did, lad." His brow furrows as he studies my face. "You're looking a mite pale there. Everything alright?" He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he takes in my exhausted state.

The headache still pounds behind my eyes. "Had to down two mana potions almost back-to-back," I admit. "Only a few minutes apart. Not exactly recommended practice." I try to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. The pain is relentless, a constant reminder of the price I paid for our victory.

"Two?" Old Tom's eyes widen. "Gods, boy, you're lucky your head hasn't exploded. No wonder you look like death warmed over." He shakes his head, his expression a mix of concern and admiration. "You did good, but don't push yourself like that again. We need you in one piece." He claps me on the shoulder, the force of it nearly making me stumble.

The cost was worth it, though. The caravan is safe, and that's what matters. I look around at the others, seeing the relief on their faces. We did it. We protected the caravan, and we sent the raiders running. The sense of accomplishment is enough to push back the pain, at least for now.

We return to the caravan's defensive circle. My head still throbs from the double mana potions, but my curiosity peaks as Lin lays out our findings. The loot from the raiders is spread out before us, a mix of mundane and strange items. I focus on the items, my identification ability revealing their secrets one by one.

Name: Black Market Mana Potions (x2)

Weight (kg): 0.23 each

Description: Cloudy blue liquid that promises magical restoration but smells suspiciously like old socks dipped in glitter.

Name: Corrupted Beast Harness

Weight (kg): 3.6

Description: Black leather harness with unsettling purple stitching that pulses in the dark. Comes with a satisfaction guarantee - void where prohibited by sanity.

Name: Raider's Coin Purse

Weight (kg): 0.32

Description: A worn leather pouch with suspicious stains. The coins inside seem to be plotting a prison break.

Name: Dark-Inscribed Map

Weight (kg): 0.09

Description: A weathered map covered in strange markings. Even evil organizations need directions, though "turn left at the corrupted tree" isn't very specific these days.

Name: Twisted Daggers (x3)

Weight (kg): 0.45 each

Description: Black steel daggers that seem to bend reality slightly. Perfect for the assassin who wants their target's last words to be "That's geometrically impossible!"

Name: Black Scale Brigade Recruitment Notices

Weight (kg): 0.045

Description: Standard recruitment parchments promising power and glory. "Join the dark side, we have dental... though our dentist is slightly corrupted."

Master Dalen approaches, her eyes narrowing at the corrupted harness. As she examines the items, she adds her own knowledge, her voice steady and authoritative.

"These aren't just black market mana potions," she says, holding one up to the light. "They're cut with shadowroot extract. Doubles the mana restoration, +50 mana but triples the headache. Worth at least 100 silver each to the right buyer, but risky to use." She gives me a pointed look, as if to say that I've already taken enough risks for one day.

She picks up the harness, her expression grim. "Dark-touched leather from the Blighted Wastes. The violet stitching is woven with corruption magicā€”lets you control beasts through pain. Technically worth 500 silver, but possession is illegal in most cities." She drops the harness back onto the pile, her distaste evident. "This kind of thing has no place in civilized lands."

Tomas joins Master Dalen in the examination, his weathered face creasing with concern as he studies the map. He traces a finger over the markings, his brow furrowing in concentration.

"This isn't just any map," he explains. "See these markings? They're raid coordination points. The Black Scale Brigade is planning something bigā€”these are caravan routes across three territories. And these daggers..." He holds one up, watching how the light seems to bend wrongly around its edge. "Void-forged. Wounds from these resist normal healing. Worth at least 50 silver each to collectors, but they're cursed. Prolonged use corrupts the wielder." His voice is grave, and I can see the worry in his eyes.

Master Dalen snatches up the recruitment notices, her eyes scanning quickly. "Well, this explains the coordinated attacks we've been hearing about. They're building an army, not just raiding bands. Mentions something about a gathering at the 'Night's Hollow'ā€”mean anything to you, Tomas?"

Tomas's face darkens. "Aye. Night's Hollow is an old quarry in the Shadowspine Mountains. Been abandoned for decades after some... incidents. Perfect place for dark dealingsā€”deep caves, multiple escape routes, and enough dark energy lingering in the stone to mask magical signatures." He looks at Master Dalen, his expression grim. "If they're gathering there, it means they're planning something big. We can't ignore this."

Lin secures the last of the loot in her saddlebags, her mount still twitching occasionally from the battle's excitement. "So, what's our next move? We can't just let them build an army right under the Council's nose." Her voice is steady, but I can hear the underlying tension. This is bigger than any of us expected.

"First," Master Dalen says firmly, "we get these supplies to Haven's Cross. They're counting on this shipment." She glances meaningfully at my still-pale face. "And someone needs proper rest after that potion stunt, I heard about." Her tone leaves no room for argument, and I know better than to try.

I try to protest, but another throb of pain shoots through my temples. She's right, of course. The double dose of mana potions was reckless. Necessary to protect the caravan, but reckless. I nod, reluctantly accepting her judgment. "Alright. I'll rest."

"When we are there," she continues, her voice hardening, "we take this information to Captain Reed. The Black Scale Brigade operating this close to major trade routes, recruiting openly, using void-forged weapons... this is more than simple banditry." Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the determination there. We will not let this threat go unchecked.

Old Tom spits on the ground. "Void-forged weapons, corruption magic, gathering armies... sounds like someone's preparing for war, not profit." His voice is filled with disgust, and I can see the tension in his shoulders. This isn't just about protecting a caravan anymore. This is about something much bigger.

Long shadows stretch across our small group as the setting sun dips lower, allowing us to absorb this revelation. A cool evening breeze brings the acrid scent of spent magic, mixed with something elseā€”a hint of darkness clinging to our captured equipment. The weight of our discovery settles heavily upon us, and the same realization is mirrored in the eyes of my companions. This is far from over.

Whatever the Black Scale Brigade is planning at Night's Hollow, we've stumbled onto something far bigger than simple caravan raids. And judging by the grim expressions around me, everyone knows our simple escort mission has just become much more complicated. The stakes have been raised, and we have no choice but to see this through.

"We move at first light," Master Dalen announces, ending the discussion. "Double watches tonight. Whatever's brewing, we're carrying evidence that could unravel their plans. They'll notice these raiders are missing soon enough." Her voice is calm, but I can hear the urgency beneath it. We need to be ready for whatever comes next.

As the others disperse to their duties, I linger for a moment, studying the twisted dagger in my hand. The blade seems to drink in the fading daylight, its edge rippling like water in a way that makes my eyes hurt. Or maybe that's just the lingering effects of the potions. Either way, sleep won't come easily tonight. Not with the weight of what we've discovered pressing down on us all. The future is uncertain, but one thing is clear: we can't afford to fail.