The Mick smoothly dropped off Fire and Flame, who rapidly headed for the small church to Aru that serviced the community, where several dozen people with weapons ready had gathered to defend Labasheeda.
There was also the small problems of the outsiders to scan, and probably to put down violently. The small hotel was going to get leveled, more than likely, but it could be rebuilt.
I glanced off ahead of us, where Legion and Azaia were pulling onto ground in Foynes and Legion had popped up the Eyes of Heaven.
The blaring purple clusters of the visitors staying overnight was pretty hard to miss as the trio came noiselessly into town, having skirted the edge of the raiding force undetected as Sleipner Ward-Rode above the waves.
Azaia was looking to link up her own Lived-Lines and get a connection across the Atlantic, maybe directly to Heavenbound Hall. As Sleipner could move quite a bit faster than Bone Marrow, it was something that had to be done sooner or later, so why not? She just had to make a connection to her past travels in Ireland and Europe, all of which had been interrupted by the little ponds in the way.
Having a consistent and known Lived-Line was suddenly becoming quite a thing as people reached towards Nine and wanted to hop across the world. Just recognizing it was important for such things was a big moment for people, and how to extend it a problem many were puzzling over, as just running or biking somewhere was such a time suck...
I could only smirk. It was all rep counts, one way or another. Get the tedious crap out of the way so you could do the cool stuff. If you wanted a Lived-Line that stretched across the world, then you had to travel across the world. There was simply no way around it.
It was even more onerous for me when I considered that I’d be leaving this world and my Lived-Line here. Annoying. I would have to do something about that...
We were coming up on Shannon quickly and silently, with lights off. I was feeding our Commune location, so I didn’t need to say anything when Highsun and his three kids cut their Disks loose and glided away from us. They got off; the Disks lotused closed, went into their Masspacks, and then all four of them started flying off, low and close to the ground, as all their attires went shadowy and black.
They’d learn Morningsuns were atop them when Morningsuns were atop them, not any sooner. I was wondering exactly who was dumb enough to be attacking here, but I supposed I’d be finding out soon enough.
The friendlies were warned we were coming, and we ghosted into the town without a problem.
Like so many other churches, this local one to Aru was converted from a Christian one, this one an old Catholic property, renamed Gables of Green and Gold. I could sense some impish cheek here, indicating that they weren’t taking themselves too awfully serious... but you didn’t get to be a successful Divine Caster without Faith, it was a requirement of the job.
The Mick pulled into its drive, which only had a couple more vehicles than usual in front of it, and headed around to the back, where several others had somehow found their way late at night.
Needless to say, his ride stood out the most. Furthermore, The Mick wasn’t about to change his attire, and Amaretta put on her sable hat as he tapped his top hat.
The Irishmen (and a few women) looked at the pair of Blooded incredulously, and then Briggs stood up from his trailing Disk. They gawked at the Ancient, quite near the size of an ogre, and radiating that Crystal Dragon vibe of the immovable mountain, especially when clad in a full set of Shieldplate with a whole lot of fresh scars and burns on it.
“I am Commander Briggs,” he stated, and silenced any and all comments as the stones on the ground trembled. “Will there be any problems with me taking command here?”
It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t even slow down. “Lady Traveler, give me an Aural scan of the town.” I shot into the air promptly, reaching out with layered Bitchood and the Eyes of Heaven, looking for collaborators, and found my first ones within fifteen seconds. “You, take a team, start vacating the homes along the river. We’re going to pull the bastards in off the water, and then we’re going to kill them.
“Lord Mick, Amaretta, you’re on the Casters. Give me a weapon tally of teams! You, why aren’t you leaving yet!” The older man jumped, gestured to several of his friends, and hurried away. More people were coming out of the church as they heard his voice, and with my mental nudge, Amaretta popped up a holo of the town and nearby sea. Breaths hissed when they saw the numbers coming in, and those two squiddy blobs.
“Are they coming for the women?” one of the younger men blurted out. “The Festival of the Green is tomorrow! There’s a lot of women staying in town...”
Somehow, Briggs got even grimmer. “That is exactly why they are here. Deep Ones can’t breed for shit among themselves, so they get new ones by making fish-fucked bloodlines who get called to the sea as they age. They either rape them here or carry them off to the deep to be baby makers in the abyssal realms in the depths of the sea.”
Hard faces replaced nerves and excitement. Briggs’ pale violet eyes swept over them. “I have killed a lot of Deep Ones. I’m going to kill a lot more. Don’t you worry about their bosses, we have those covered, and don’t you worry about their numbers. Lady Traveler is here if you have problems. Now, let’s get some firing lines drawn up.”
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It had been too long since the world had seen her get angry.
She was Jaelez Morningfire, arguably the most famous Fire-wielder on the planet after her mother had been killed. Her daughter Brigette had built upon her fame, but her achievements had been hers.
And then, that man, one of her own lovers, had done that to her!
It was worse than rape. He had taken everything of hers: her name, her beauty, her power, her social position, her reputation, her acclaim... and her daughters.
THREE of her four daughters!
She was going to simply unlock the door to the garage where the outsiders had gathered. She could feel the Evil leaking off them, hungry, ready to explode forth when violence came, and the touch of it, that sickening feel as she had writhed in torment under the fires of that bastard’s Pact...
“AHHHHHH!”
The Meteor blew right through the garage door, exploding inside with the transcendent glory of phoenix fire, carefully treated with Sanctified magic so as to do no harm to the Good... or even the Neutral.
Brigette Morningflame raised an eyebrow at her mother’s brutal display, but neither the roars of the spell, nor the screams of those within got anywhere, nor was there any shining flames roaring into the sky, for the spell was Invisible, and she had a Sound Bubble up.
She reached out, sucked in the flames rising from things soaked in oil and gas, or rags and tinders, and drew up a flight of twelve Shards, all of them also burning with flames.
There were only four survivors. One of them was a werewolf in full wereform, charging its way on the attack, warped horns on its head and an arm covered in fur writhing like worms.
It got six of the Shards, shining and exploding into its chest, and the other survivors got two each, enough to hurl them back into the abruptly fire-less room, and onto the flash-cooled bodies of their comrades.
The mutated werewolf jerked, stumbling as its charge was met, and made a little surprised squirk as a burning mithral Rapier inserted into its jaws and out the back of its lupine skull.
“Maze Walkers, and Cultists of the Worm,” Flame observed, watching as her mother twisted deftly and guided the corpse of the werewolf down as she withdrew Ember. The Worms were a nihilist branch of Druids revering death and merciless survival of the fittest, and ready to employ any and all methods on others to do so.
Naturally they already considered themselves the fittest, of course.
It was a needless expense of a higher-Valence Slot, and her mother should have known better. On the other hand, by the way her mother’s eyes were glowing and her emotions raging on the Allegiance link, it was plain that killing so many undead hadn’t really vented any of her mother’s ire at what had happened to her.
Nor had it mollified hers, but her long military career meant she approached this kind of thing far more analytically than her mother did.
“Don’t waste a big Slot like that again, mother. There’s at least three Casters among the raiders coming in.”
Morningfire glanced at her daughter, golden eyes still visibly burning and little feathers of phoenix-flame dancing on her crimson hair, like embers flaring and flowing inside a fire.
Fire looked to the north, where another group of raiders had gathered, and then back towards the sea, where a hundred things in the water were waiting for the signal to the east to advance on the shore and attack, unaware they were going to be moving right into a lot of gunfire.
She had learned Aqueous Spell today for just that reason, but honestly, it was not Deep Ones that she wanted to kill, however vile their intentions!
“Reinforce the littoral, Flame, and leave these traitors to me,” her mother stated, and without further ado flitted away in that direction, fading into invisibility as she did so.
Flame just sighed, and turned back towards the shore, where some of the local men were finding sniping positions, getting ready to shoot the shit out of the fish-men as they came ashore. A Chained Bane to Aquatics or two would certainly help their killing efficiency...
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Legion put a hand to the wall of a certain building, and made a request to the sleepy Spirit of the village. Not as repressed as the great Spirits of the land, and suddenly aware of how important this was, power flowed along a Whim, and the wood and brick of the side of the building flowed away silently, not affecting the structural integrity of the building at all.
Innsmouth folk, a wereboar merc, and a False Druid of Skulos, a Death Priest for the Cult of the Worm.
One of the men happened to be looking right at them as the opening was made, and blinked once, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Legion stepped aside, and Azaia lowered her Staff Nimbus. She set off the Topped Chained Shards, all done up with lots of Kickers, and the screams of those inside went unheard in the Sound Bubble, the terrible lethality of Holy magic against Evil shredding them.
The wereboar wasn’t Evil, just uncaring and self-interested, his loyalty bought for money and the promise of a good fight. With the bellow of a berserker, he charged the opening in the wall, swelling in height and power as he snatched up a massive mace and charged the sky-haired, golden-eyed halvyri there.
Azaia stepped back, and Legion reached out impassively to clothesline the charging were-berserker so hard his booted feet flew above his looming head. His bellow became a startled gurk! as he was slammed down to the ground, and Purified Wrath blew through his body with bone-shattering force as he did so.
He was shocked right out of his rage by the force of the attack... and by the stare of the silver eyes in black glaring down at him from the woman who had done that to him. Azaia stepped forwards, Nimbus thrust out, and a foot of mithral steel calmly shot out the tip of her Staff, shimmering with force magic. It drove into his skull with no resistance, and there was something like a popping sound as the Force Reserve was released, instantly reducing his brain to puree.
Legion watched his Aura die out and released him, not even glancing at the room as they rose. “The raiders?” they asked calmly, pulling out Idiot and Fred’s Grit.
Azaia nodded and took advantage of the moment to give Legion a warm hug, smiling as she did so. Legion gently touched their foreheads together as the Dimension Door popped them about half a klik thataway. The rest of the Innsmouth folk and the other two wereboars got a really bad surprise when the two of them appeared directly above them in the trees they were hiding under, and promptly bombarded them ruthlessly.
The Chained Shardrays thinned out the Innsmouth hybrids, and Legion dropping down onto the wereboars was not something either of those werefolk wanted to see...