Biracial Edgelord Can't Make Immortal : Power of Ten, Book Seven

I was, of course, completely used to the hot, rugged, and largely bare rock that constituted much of the Bleaklands. This trade road saw a lot of traffic, and if it was an easy way to move through the badlands about us, that very traffic scared away much normal wildlife, and attracted some rather non-discriminatory predators to the food that trundled along out here.

They weren't really expecting trouble, and indeed were probably excited and hoping to meet some and get in some explosive and showy spellcasting that would no doubt awe and terrorize their enemies, conveniently forgetting that the nifloids of the Bleaklands had been getting blown apart by Zanzyran magic for centuries and were pretty used to sacrificing themselves to some spells so their seniors could hack apart Zanzyran mages.

Well, they weren't in any real danger with me here, despite the fact I was concealing my power. Nobody outside Belle and my own people knew my true level of power, and I was aiming to keep it that way for a while. Once I graduated, well, that was something different.

The road was very easy to follow, wagon ruts forming a path for over a century now, with some moderate and half-assed attempts to make it a real road, which had usually ended in bloodshed with the locals, or something hungry coming down out of the sky to grab a meal. Or two, or ten.

Sim Two had already done a Commune scan of the Bleaklands, and while there was some riling up and movement of forces towards the south to deal with the intrusion of elves and dwarves there, it hadn't swirled up into all-out horde-making, yet.

It was fine, really. Belle was already readying a bunch of surprises for those who might think to attack her, and gathering up in undercaverns was one way to give her a lot of targets to unleash on at once.

She was already pissed-off at all of them for killing her husband and taking his body. She was totally willing to have them pissed-off at her as well, considering it only fair… and she had the mindset, the magic, and the skills to deal with the consequences of her actions now.

And a really sneaky, dangerous ally to back her up, if all of her Sims weren't all hard at work doing just that.

For all that, though, there was only some drums signaling our passage through the place… which stopped when Duum swept down, popped out of Invisibility, grabbed the drummers, and flew off with them for a snack. For some reason, none of the other goblins around were eager to take up the job after watching him tear off the heads of one, then the other, letting them drop down from the air before rippling back out of sight again before their disbelieving eyes.

Maybe they might even match up the stories with the giant bat from deep underground, if the stories had made it this far.

The mountains were cold and bleakly spectacular in their own way, unfriendly and unlovely in color, but pristine, unloved, and grimly defiant of the heavens. It was hard not to appreciate anything that could live out here, but considering it was literally the Immortals who'd pulled this whole place up out of the mantle and turned it into such an inhospitable place to live, being impressed with 'nature's glory' wasn't on the agenda here.

The place was a bleak shithole, and it was made that way on purpose. If we didn't know right where to mine, not even dwarves would dwell in a place like this. It should simply be collapsed down onto the caverns below and done away with.

Which was something else I was totally capable of doing, too, in time. Access to Immortal Power made plenty of things possible, even if took a while to regenerate the stuff inside Dread.

6 IP an hour wasn't exactly fast, but at least it was constant over the course of a day. Just had to be careful how I spent it.

---

-Raiding band ahead along the road. Waiting for a caravan coming from the other direction, Mistress,- Duum /relayed politely to me.

I sighed aloud. "I'm going to need a Fireball, a Lighting Bolt, and some missile fire in a couple minutes. Nico, Entelia, prep them, everyone else stand ready, conserve spells. We're going to be coming up on the back of a line of raiders getting ready to hit a caravan coming from the other direction."

We'd traveled almost a half a day through the Bleaklands, and it was getting late. The thought of a little action woke everyone right up, however.

"We are less than ten miles from the edge of the Bleaklands and the hills that lead down to Absoglor. There are about a hundred Bleakers gathered in a small horde to hit a caravan just coming through into the area. I believe hitting them from behind with a shock attack through the core of their strength should be enough to break them. If not, we shall simply back up and outrun them."

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"Any wolf riders, m'Lady?" the Mick asked instantly, stringing the longbow that had been laying with his pack behind him.

"Five, but they are positioned to hit the back of the caravan, not the side. I can alert the caravan as we get closer to them." Technically I could do it now, as Magevoice carried up to three miles, but no reason to let them know it could extend that far, useful as it was. Not as far as a Message could reach, but more immediate and in real-time, perfect for running a battlefield.

"They are on the other side of that ridgeline there. The lookout is just on the other side of that outcropping…"

Everyone watched a large winged black form edged in crimson appear out of nowhere, sweep out of sight, and come back into view on the far side with something clutched in its jaws it let go of, to go tumbling out of sight as the Bat faded from visibility again.

"Ho, yer Bat been following us sneaky-like," the Mick said without batting an eye, testing the cord of his stave bow. The other warriors had a combination of bows, including Messime, while Chekwort had cocked back a big crossbow in his huge paws.

"I can see the first outriders!" Isadora exclaimed, safely behind the big lupin and with a Wand ready in hand.

"Minimal spells," I reminded them dryly, "just in case there is trouble." There was reluctant agreement. "But those two spells? They'd best be loud and showy!" I warned them.

Nico and Entelia were more than happy to agree to that. The native of Fuireze had a vial of alchemical fire waiting in his hand, while sparks were dancing along the amber-tipped rod Entelia was holding.

I turned my attention back to the caravan ahead. "Attention, Federyn caravan. This is the Lady Edge of Zanzyr. You are about to roll into an ambush by Bleaker natives. Continue on your course, but loosen your swords and ready your spears and bows without being obvious. The main force is going to come down from behind the ridgeline just about even with your scout, while ten infantry, including an ogre, and five worg-riders are going to sweep into that gulch from the north you are just passing now. Keep rolling, if you stop they will know something is up, and we are not in position to blast them yet. Your riders should prepare to wheel and charge to the rear."

There was a bit of milling confusion down there for a moment, but the caravan never stopped rolling. The outrider did take a good hard look up the hill, but also kept going.

"We are coming up behind the ridgeline to the flank of the attackers. I don't think you'll have any problem knowing when they are about to attack." An Illusionary Wall in front of me moved rapidly with the terrain, painting Nobody Behind Me No Sir on its front as I skimmed us rapidly up the slope and over a steeper section of the ridge, still not spotted… but the force of Bleakers, mostly goblins, a few scattered hobgoblins, with one of those in command it looked like, were all flat against the bottom slope and not peeking over the edge before one of the spotters looking through a crack in the rocks gave the word.

"They are tensing, caravan. Steady, steady…" the front wagons were just rolling forward below the ridgeline, the mounted guards accompanying them with spears placed in holders for ease at hand, seemingly not too concerned with the threat there.

With a cry and the blowing of a horn, the Bleakers burst to their feet to charge over the ridge.

Nico's vial, magically impelled, arced through the air and detonated against the chest of the hobgoblin chief. The purple-orange fireball was actually the skin colors of the fellow as he and his lieutenants and cronies were launched flaming in all directions. Most were charred corpses, a few merely on fire and screaming even as they bounced and crashed their way downslope.

Entelia's hissing, crackling serpent of a Lightning Bolt whipped down the far side of the formation, hit the stone, and bounced up, fully cutting through the entire line on that side. Screams were cut short as jerking, crackling corpses were flung down the slopes, weapons and shields going every which way.

The twang of bows nearest to us was rather lost in the tumult. My shredded Illusionary Wall dropped completely, and five different Bleakers jerked over as arrows punched through thin leathers and sent them tumbling downslope from the impacts.

"Laurentine, Sleep them," I ordered calmly. "Hammel, an Earth Elemental. Coup them while they are down."

The attractive redhead thrust out her hand instantly, and there was a quiet poof of whiteness in a wide circle. The thickest cluster of goblins fell right over, a couple right over the ridge, which precipitated bone-breaking falls down the slope.

Hammel's hand clenched and rose. Stone flowed up out of the brown rock, and the crudely badger-like form of the Elemental took shape on the stone. Without missing a beat, the Elemental ripped out the throat of the nearest unconscious goblin, and lumbered over to the next one to continue the process.

More arrows twanged as Chekwort worked his heavier and slower crossbow, the mages staying astutely behind the heavier-armored and brawnier warriors instead of dashing forth to do battle, probably because I was just standing there and letting them do their things.

A few of the goblins did decide to charge us, screaming hatred and defiance, while others decided abject fear and panic were the key to surviving the day, and instantly broke to flee.

Fwip, fwip, fwip. Arrows to the throat, eye, and heart cut down the trio, while I sent a flight of three shrieking Skullbarbs into the backs of those running away, just to help the half-dozen survivors on their way.

"Chasing?" Oshwiva hissed aggressively as she drew down on one of the goblins, fully ready to pursue them on the hunt, her rakasta instincts all up and charged to go after fleeing prey. She released her shot, and the missile caught the goblin as he vaulted a small rock, sending him crashing to the ground. A second later, Rika's arrow nailed his companion through the throat and sent the goblin gurgling to the ground.

"You, Rika, Entelia, Mess. Find the camp and loot it," I confirmed, pointing. Oshwiva leapt off her Disk, and it trailed behind her as I transferred control of the others to her. Bounding agilely, the shiny gray rakasta towed the other three behind her as she raced off speedily after the survivors.

The goblins were already breaking apart and going in all directions, so it would take more than one spell to get them all… and they weren't a big priority to me. "Chekwort," I pointed, as his heavy crossbow came up. It spun, locked, and thrummed loudly as the heavy bolt whipped out.