NOVEL NEXT Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 75 - The approaching storm - Part Two
Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 75 - The approaching storm - Part Two
***** Kema ~ Asrusian Former Capital *****
Antennae waving lazily in the breeze and wings silently thrumming at her back, Kema surveyed the city below her with disgust and a deep profound sense of vindication.
The human vermin carried the same mark as the two Devil’s she and Amun had dispatched only hours earlier. However, while rifling through the minds of the city’s inhabitants, Kema had stumbled upon a far greater prize than she ever would have anticipated.
The city was home to a potential candidate.
Kema’s outer mandibles clacked with intense anticipation, exciting the brutish form of her companion, guardian, and Mate, Amun.
As large as a Giant, Amun, as with all males of his line, had been bred for the rigours of physical combat and absolute obedience. Armoured in thick obsidian carapace and driven by muscles and tendons that could shatter mountains, Amun was a living weapon.
The powerful beating of Amun’s wings released a keening drone that would gradually drive lesser minds to madness. Or it would have done if Kema was not actively masking their presence by altering the minds of those below them.
Amun’s mind returned to its default state, scanning for potential threats and endlessly repeating the litany of loyalty.
Kema removed herself from Amun’s thoughts, maintaining only the minimum connection required to facilitate direct communication should it prove necessary.
While carefully scanning the minds of the human vermin, Kema was only marginally surprised to find that those dwelling within the most fortified structure of the hive had extensive dealings with the potential candidate she was searching for.
The more she learned, the more excited Kema became.
The Ogre’s deviations from the standard matrix of his kind were unheard of. In all of the Dominion’s records, only those chosen by the masters would possess deviations on such a scale.
If the Ogre was one of the chosen, then there was a real chance that he might be the subject they had been searching for.
Activating the sub-minds in her psychic consciousness, Kema began spinning an intricate web of Spells over the city. Layer by layer, she established contingencies that would deny the Ogre the support of his most valuable allies.
Ideally, the Ogre would succumb to her psychic assault and allow her to deliver his unresisting body to the Norn Queens without a fuss. However, Kema was not nearly so foolish to believe that would be possible.
There were precious few who would try to break free of Enslavement and fewer still who would succeed. Willpower played its role but was not the determining factor. However, the aversion to pain was deeply rooted in lesser minds and drove many to receive greater pain as a matter of course simply to avoid accepting pain as a result of their active choosing.
The Ogre had broken its own Enslavement, which was rare enough, only to then break the Enslavement of thousands of others. A feat that was unique enough on its own and enough to warrant caution. However, learning that the Ogre had freed hundreds simultaneously was another matter entirely.
The scale of nerve stimulation involved should have killed him. The fact that it hadn’t, made the Ogre a far greater threat. However, it also made him that much more likely to be the one the Dominion had been searching for.
Furthermore, the Ogre’s strengths were offset by an otherwise fatal flaw. A flaw Kema was only too happy to exploit to her advantage.
With her Spells in place, Kema delivered her demands.
***** Tim ~ Tim’s Interdimensional Plane ~ Sanctuary *****
There was nothing else I could do for Sebet, and little I could do for Clarice. Even though I wasn’t sure what I should do, I decided to stay as a show of support.
A deep unsettling sense of unease quite suddenly replaced my lingering awkwardness.
Rising to my feet, I couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.
“What is it?” Sebet asked, concerned by my abrupt shift in temperament.
“I don’t know...” I admitted bluntly, “But something feels...wrong...”
Gric frowned and his eyes grew unfocused. After several moments, his eyes flashed with anger. “An outsider is killing civilians in the Asrusian city outside of the Dimension Plane,” Gric announced angrily.
Shocked by Gric’s words, I removed the filter and was immediately bombarded by a stream of black Death Notifications. “No...” In the span of a few seconds, dozens and then hundreds of names passed before my eyes. “NO!” I roared, conjuring my armour onto my body and relocating myself and Gric to Sanctuary.
With a thought, I drew my thunder warriors to my side. “We are under attack!” I barked, bringing them all to immediate attention. “Locate the enemy AND DESTROY THEM!” I roared, overcome with grief and enraged by the notifications streaming through my peripheral vision.
Without saying another word, I bridged the gap between my realm and the world beyond, traveling directly to the portal located on the castle grounds within the Asrusians' former capital. However, instead of the castle grounds, I found myself standing in the centre square.
There was no sign of Gric and all of my thunder warriors were missing.
Screams of terror rose from the city around me, but the centre square was eerily silent. Littered with the bleeding broken bodies of men, women, and children.
On reflex, I gathered my MP and prepared to Summon Gric. However, just as I was about to complete the Spell, I felt something was amiss and canceled the Summons.
Extending my senses, I became painfully aware of the currents of mana surrounding me and the city at large.
Before I had the chance to identify any of the other Spells, something huge crashed through a nearby building at incredible speed and struck the right side of my helmet.
Stunned by the blow, I staggered and fell to the ground.
Before I could rise, something struck my stomach with enough force to lift me off the ground and crash through a nearby brick wall.
Disoriented and rendered half-blind by the ruptured blood vessels in my right eye, I barely managed to claw myself free of the fallen building before taking another blow to the chest. Thrown through several more buildings, I ignored the pain radiating from my chest and gathered my MP into my armour.
As I had expected, my attacker wasted no time in continuing their assault. Only this time, as their attack landed on my shoulder, I was not the only one sent flying.
Gathering more MP I prepared to pulse the Barrier Spell and attempt to purge the enemy Spells from my immediate area.
Before I could cast the Spell, an immense mental strain settled onto my mind like a blanket of barbed wire. Unable to complete my Spell, I barely raised my arms in time to block the next blow from my attacker.
Knocked backward but otherwise still on my feet, I got my first proper look at my assailant.
Only a foot shorter than me and wearing shiny black armour, he had long arms and legs but only three fingers on each hand. As he prepared to charge, the face guard of his helmet briefly split down the middle and shifted in place before settling again. He made a strange clicking croaking sound and made a show of flexing the fingers on his right hand which was bleeding a thick greenish-yellow fluid.
Trying to gather MP for another Spell, I was forced to abandon the attempt as the pain in my mind flared in response.
The black armoured man made another guttural croaking clicking sound and shook his head. Clenching his bloody fist, he squared up to begin another round.
Left with no other choice, I drew my mace and prepared for combat.
To my surprise, the enemy drew a hammer of his own from thin air.
Ignoring the pain as best I could manage, I charged forward and used my Chi to try and shift the ground beneath his feet.
The enemy hopped backward, drawing back his hammer and then leaping forward in a countercharge.
I realized my mistake just in time to veer off course and narrowly avoid the head of the hammer. However, the enemy continued the motion, spinning and stepping into the blow, closing the distance between us before slamming the hammer into my back.
Thrown forward, I crashed into another wall.
Keenly aware that I couldn’t remain still, I stepped to the side and narrowly avoided another blow from the hammer.
The pressure on my mind increased by another step and it was all I could do not to scream. Then, without warning, the pain abated.
Just in time for the hammer to crash into the front of my helmet and break my nose.
Driven past the point of reason, I grabbed at the shaft of the two-handed hammer and warped the wood, twisting and coiling the shaft around the enemy’s arm and binding it with thorns. However, try as I might, I couldn’t tighten the hold fast enough to do any real damage before he threw me off.
Just as quickly as the hammer had appeared, it disappeared again, leaving my Chi without a vessel.
Instead of drawing a new weapon, the black armoured giant backed away several steps and nodded approvingly. “Is-k-k-k. Good-k-k-k,” he croaked, gasping at the beginning and then stuttering the end of each word with more of the same strange clicking sounds. “Was-k-k-k. Easy-k-k-k.” He raised his fists and advanced.
With lightning speed, the giant leaned out of reach of my mace and then surged forward, seizing my wrists and pinning both arms against the crumbling wall at my back.
Investing my Chi into the broken masonry, I pelted bricks and mortar at his head, throwing him off balance just long enough to break away.
Retreating even as I continued the assault, I quickly realized that the giant was taking no visible signs of damage and only appeared to be surprised by the unconventional nature of the attack itself.
Gathering my MP I pulsed the Barrier Spell in a desperate bid to nullify the enemy’s Spells.
The black armoured giant stopped mid-charge, watching the Barrier as it expanded outward and passed over his body. “K-k-k-k...” The giant began gathering its MP and projected a dull grey Barrier of its own.
My MP began to hemorrhage at an accelerated rate and my Barrier collapsed before it had expanded more than a couple of dozen feet.
“Weak-k-k-k,” the giant taunted, canceling its Barrier and beginning its advance anew.
Raising my mace, I gathered what MP I could, and prepared a Thundering Strike. Bringing the mace down in a double-handed strike, I aimed for the giant's head, hoping that I could end the fight with a single blow.
Raising both arms and ducking low, the giant caught the strike on his crossed forearms. More of the greenish-yellow liquid burst from beneath the giant’s vambraces and from between the spaces in his gauntlets, but the giant held firm.
Pain erupted from my abdomen.
Looking downward with my one good eye, I could only stare in surprise upon spotting a second pair of hands holding long thin blades planted firmly in my abdomen.
Slowly rising to his full height, the giant seized hold of my wrists and leaned in close. The plates of his helmet jittered, revealing several small black eyes behind the visor and releasing a foul stench. “Weak-k-k-k,” the giant repeated, only this time, I saw what was behind the visor. Or rather, realized it was not a visor at all.
The giant was some form of mutant anthropomorphic arthropod.
“Give-k-k-k. In-k-k-k,” the giant mutant insect demanded, plated mandibles clacking in triumph. Releasing its hold on the blades still firmly lodged in my abdomen, it slipped its hands beneath my helmet, wrapped its clawed fingers around my throat, and began to squeeze.
Gasping for breath and choking on my own blood, I gathered most of my remaining MP and drove my knee up into the giant mutant beetle’s groin. Empowered by my spilled blood, the giant mutant was sent flying skyward.
Unfortunately, removing the giant beetle’s claws from my throat did not bring the relief I had expected. Worse still, I could feel blood running freely down my chest.
Resisting the urge to strip off my helmet and apply pressure to the site of the bleeding, I pulled off my gauntlets and activated the tattoo that allowed me to take on human form.
After several moments of intense agony, the physical pain became nothing more than a memory. However, without enough MP to trigger the tattoo a second time, I was unable to return to my true form.
Shedding my armour like a hermit crab, I retreated into the broken building to seek shelter and attempt to regenerate both my HP and MP.
While I could use Sorcery to activate the tattoo a second time, it had already been made painfully obvious that I wasn’t going to defeat this enemy through brute force,
Stumbling over the broken masonry and into the room beyond, I continued forward, clearing a path with my Chi and closing it as best I could manage behind myself.
With only the magical skirt securely fixed about my waist for protection, I struggled to think of a time when I had ever been more vulnerable than I was at this moment.
Brick, mortar and timber exploded overhead as one of the mutant beetle’s limbs came scything through the roof a dozen paces behind me.
Drawing bricks from the wall, I formed a loose shield at my back and continued running forward.
The cloth around my knees was shredded by chips of flying brick and mortar, but my legs remained unharmed thanks to my high Toughness and Thick Skin Ability.
The building collapsed behind me as the mutant beetle’s right arms cleaved through the wall a couple of feet above my newly assumed head height. A second later, one of its left claws shot through the wall a handful of inches behind my back, narrowly missing my elbow and knocking aside a large portion of the brickwork that was serving as my shield.
Attempting to throw the creature off, I launched the remaining bricks back the way I had come and took up a new shield from the wall ahead of me.
Just as I had hoped, an explosion of dust and debris erupted from two buildings back.
Pushing back against my mana fatigue, I began cycling my Chi to draw in as much raw mana as I could manage.
All too quickly the mutant beetle seemed to realise it had been fooled and began collapsing the walls closest to it in rapid succession. Using its extended arm to claw through them one after another without stopping.
Making a hole in the wall on the opposing side, I leapt through just in time to narrowly avoid the mutant beetle’s claws before tumbling onto the rough cobbled street.
Scrambling to my feet, I dashed toward the buildings across the street.
The ground rumbled beneath my feet and a round shadow began rapidly growing in size on the street in front of me, blocking my path. Trusting in my instincts, I leapt forward for the second time.
The mutant beetle’s legs crashed into the cobblestones with the force of a meteor, sending shards of stone and other debris flying in all directions as I sailed between its legs.
Spinning on the spot, the mutant beetle clawed viciously at my back but was too poorly positioned and caught nothing but air.
Hitting the ground running, I sprinted headlong at the brick wall in front of me and blew it out of the way with my Chi.
Spotting movement from the corner of my eye, I prepared to throw myself to the ground or back the way I had come.
Even with the copious volumes of adrenaline being dumped into my system, my authority identified the source of the movement as an ally. A split second later, it corrected the assessment, designating them as one of my subjects.
Matilda, a mother of five children.
Acting without thinking, I leapt back the way I had come and into the open street.
The mutant beetle, legs bent in preparation to give chase, stared at me for a long moment before cocking its head quizzically to one side and working its large plated mandibles in what I could only assume was a sign of confusion. Just as it was preparing to charge, it stopped for a second time. Unlike before, it now seemed agitated, limbs and fingers twitching as its gaze shifted from me and onto the building behind me.
Striding confidently forward, as if I had never been a threat, to begin with, the mutant beetle stalked toward the building where Matilda was hiding behind an overturned table. However, instead of tearing down the wall, or bashing in the roof, it just stood beside the door and waited.
Guessing at the creature’s intentions I began to run down the street to try and lure it away.
“STAY-K-K-K!!!” The mutant beetle demanded angrily.
I felt a fresh surge of pain lance through my brain and nearly fell before catching myself.
“P-Please! D-Don’t leave me!” An older woman’s voice cried out in terror.
Looking over my shoulder, I nearly tripped a second time as I laid eyes on the woman from the house, Matilda, standing in the middle of the street with a knife to her throat. Only, it wasn’t the mutant beetle that was holding her at knife-point. It was Matilda’s hand that pressed the knife against her throat.
“P-Please!!!” Matilda repeated, tears streaming down her face.
Stopped dead in my tracks, it only took me a moment to realise that the older woman had to be under some form of Compulsion or Mind Control. Concentrating my will, I ignored the pain and pushed back as hard as I dared.
The knife fell from Matilda’s trembling hand and she bolted for the safety of what I assumed was her home.
Before she could even reach the door, the pain returned. Only this time it was several times greater in intensity.
Wailing cries echoed up and down the street, as a procession of small children stiffly marched over the debris and rubble to gather at the mutant beetle’s side. Dozens of men and women followed in their wake, desperately attempting to drag their children back to safety. However, whatever Compulsion controlled them, also lent the small children impossible strength, allowing them to overpower their parents with ease.
However, before the last of the children could reach their intended destination, the Compulsion was severed, allowing their parents to snatch them up and flee.
With contemptuous ease, the mutant beetle snatched up one of the parents.
Michael, father of two children.
“STAY-K-K-K!” The creature commanded, squeezing Michael’s torse for emphasis and causing the young man to cry out in pain and fear.
“Run!-Urk!” Michael cried desperately, his words intended for his wife and children, and not for me.
A young woman with dark brown hair, wearing a baker’s apron and fiercely clutching at two small children, Thomas and Sarah, stared back at Michael with tears in her eyes and ran for all she was worth.
Fighting back against my rage, I knew I now had to make a choice.
If I ran away, more civilians would die. The creature had made its position incredibly clear on that particular point. However, I stayed, if I tried to fight it as I was, I would almost certainly die.
Looking into the pale desperate face of a father willing to do anything to protect his children, I only grew more conflicted.
While I deliberated, the mutant beetle drew closer.
With less than a couple of dozen feet between us, I couldn’t help but notice that the creature had loosened its grip. An action that was at odds with its earlier ruthless demonstration.
“I’ll stay,” I stated in as calm a voice as I could muster and decided to test a hunch. “Let him go, and I’ll fight you.”
The creature’s mandibles clacked noisily in excitement and it released Michael, allowing him to fall to the ground. Paying the civilian no further mind, the mutant beetle’s clawed fingers began to twitch in anticipation. “Fight-k-k-k! Yes-k-k-k! Good-k-k-k!” What looked like thick ropy drool had begun running down the many tiny limbs surrounding its hellish mouth before it was blocked from view as the thick mandibles snapped back into place.
Keenly aware that I lacked the size and Strength to do any meaningful damage in my current state, I decided that since I was doing something stupid anyway, I might as well double down while I was at it.
With a thought, I called Shiverfang into my waiting hands, and after a moment's hesitation, designated Pete as my official successor.
The difference in strength between the creature and myself had been disadvantages to begin with. I held no delusions regarding my chances of survival, let alone victory. Should the worst happen, I wanted to give my children the best odds for their survival, and that meant keeping them together. Dividing my territories between them might be the fair thing to do, but it would be no different to throwing them to the wolves.
At least together, they had a chance of growing old enough to fight the Monarchs on some form of equal footing.
The mutant beetle had halted its advance and had begun staring intently at Shiverfang, perhaps sensing the potential danger it represented. Only to then draw four short-bladed swords from thin air, two of which were still coated in my blood.
Perversely, the creature appeared to have an established sense of fair play. It didn’t matter that Shiverfang was an Artefact and no longer than one of his swords. So long as I was armed, the mutant beetle appeared resolved to do likewise.
Without further warning, the creature lunged forward, sweeping its two lower swords together in a scissoring motion that very nearly took my head off. It followed up the attack with a sequence of scorpion-like strikes from the two other swords that cleaved away at the street.
Attempting to parry one of the swords aside, I quickly realised my mistake and attempted to guide the blade of my spear towards the mutant beetle’s exposed chitinous fingers.
With a flick of its wrist, the mutant beetle knocked me aside and initiated a fresh barrage of strikes.
Dodging as best as I was able and literally shifting the street beneath my feet to stay one step ahead, I was forced to admit that I was outmatched in just about every respect. Without Chi and its accompanying Affinities to provide an unfair advantage, there was no way I would have survived long enough to make it thus far.
If I could drag the fight out long enough, there was a chance I could return to my true form and make a better play for time. Perhaps even last long enough for Gric and the others to come to my rescue.
As if reading my thoughts, the creature increased the intensity and frequency of its attacks, turning the street into a broken mess of rubble. Inadvertently making it easier for me to break the line of sight and avoid a concentrated sequence of attacks. However, it was also wearing down my stamina at a much greater rate.
Ducking below a shearing horizontal strike and blocking another with the shaft of Shiverfang, I lost contact with the ground and was sent flying up into the air.
All four blades at the ready, the creature watched my ascent with absolute focus.
Keenly aware that there would be no way to dodge or block all four attacks simultaneously, I resolved to abandon my plan to return to my true form.
Gathering what MP I could spare, I launched a Fire Lance at the mutant beetle’s face. The attack almost certainly wouldn’t do any real damage, but the creature wasn’t to know that.
As I had hoped, the mutant beetle moved to shield its face, momentarily blinding it.
Already committed to remaining in human form, I decided to push my luck further. Feeding a small amount of MP into Shiverfang’s blade, I shifted my grip and brought the edge of the blade down on the uppermost of the mutant beetle’s right hands.
In a blur of motion, the creature raised its right arm and sword to catch the blow, just the same as it had done several times already. It must have come as a shock when the sword was sheared in half and one of the fingers of its left hand was nearly amputated.
Scoring a line from collar to crotch, I regretted not being able to make better use of the opportunity.
Anticipating a retributive strike, I leapt to the side but quickly became confused after realising the creature had not chased after me.
The broken sword disappeared just the same as the hammer from earlier. Having transferred the sword from its injured hand to replace the one that was lost, the creature appeared to take an intense interest in its damaged finger and the copious amounts of foul liquid welling out of it.
Then, the bleeding stopped and the chitinous exoskeleton began knitting itself back together before my very eyes.
The creature flexed its freshly healed digit and nodded approvingly. Turning back to face me again, it appeared almost surprising that I hadn’t attempted to run. Perhaps forgetting that it had a literal city full of hostages that prevented me from doing exactly that.
“Good-k-k-k! Fight-k-k-k!” The mutant beetle clacked excitedly. “Remember-k-k-k! You-k-k-k!”
Thoroughly unflattered, I prepared myself for the creature’s next attack. Then it occurred to me that I still didn’t know precisely what the damned thing wanted, or why it had attacked the city to begin with. I had simply assumed that the creature’s goal was to kill me because it had done little else so far.
But what if there was more to it?
“Wh-” Before the first syllable had left my mouth, the mutant beetle launched itself into a vicious charge. Forced to abandon my curiosity or risk biting off my tongue, I was quickly overwhelmed despite the creature having lost one of its weapons.
Already bruised to the point that my insides felt like minced meat and my brain throbbing in tandem with my heartbeat, I couldn’t react fast enough to dodge out of the way and caught a glancing blow to my right shoulder. Blood began running down my arm and compromised my grip, making it that much harder to fend off the next blow.
After several more exchanges, my right arm was too weak to continue holding Shiverfang and it fell to the ground before I could transfer it to my left hand. Staring defeatedly at the bloodied Artefact and fighting hard to breathe, I decided to make one final gamble.
With great effort, I placed my bloody and trembling fingers against my transformation tattoo and activated Sorcery. Enduring the indescribable pain, I staggered and nearly collapsed.
Up until this moment, I had done my best to ignore my Status. I had known I was losing, and that I had very little HP left. However, with my death all but guaranteed, and the creature watching on like the spectre of death itself, I didn’t see any point in avoiding it any longer.
[ HP: -12/60 ]
I grimaced and fought back the urge to laugh after I realised I had gained another point of Toughness after getting so thoroughly beaten. I was also conscious despite my HP being firmly placed at a negative value.
Despite the transformation healing my wounds, most of my vitality was gone. I could feel my body beginning to cannibalise itself for the nutrients it needed to compensate for the shortfall. However, I knew it wouldn’t be enough.
Even as the creature set aside its weapons, it was obvious that the results of the fight were a forgone conclusion. Now I was just delaying the inevitable.
Taking a hard blow to the abdomen and crashing head over heels through a nearby building, I found it somewhat ironic that fighting the mutant barehanded had somehow turned out to be the best option.
Despite its immense size, the creature seemed to lack an Ability to amplify its unarmed damage, and while I couldn’t land a clean hit due to its superior flexibility and Agility, our exchanges were far less skewed in its favour than they had been.
My loss was still a foregone conclusion, but it would be delayed far longer than I had expected.
Blocking another punch with my elbow, I felt a grim sense of satisfaction as the mutant beetle’s fist made an audible crunch on impact.
Unphased, the creature raked the claws of its right arms down my left side, leaving shallow cuts in their wake.
Kneeing the creature in the abdomen, I rolled to the side, to escape the impending grapple, using my Chi and Earth Affinity to assist my movements as best as they could. Which was admittedly little, since I was now far larger and heavier than I had been in my human form.
The mutant beetle didn’t let up, swiping at my back and delivering several glancing blows in rapid succession but dealing little damage.
Pivoting on the spot, I attempted to deliver a backhanded blow to the creature’s upper right arm. More or less as I had expected, my blow struck nothing but empty air as the mutant beetle ducked under my fist and slammed both of its left fists into my ribs.
Grunting and doing my best to ignore the pain, I backed away as best as I was able and shielded my chest with my left arm.
Taking the bait, the creature raked at my left arm with its serrated claws but found no purchase and did little damage as its chitin scraped over the dense bones and hardened flesh of my forearm. However, after a minute of persistent attacks, the skin of my forearm was a bloody mess and the creature's claws had begun to find the purchase they needed to deal the damage the creature desired.
Shifting tactics, I was caught by an unexpected blow to the left kidney. Before I could recover the mutant beetle delivered a barrage of strikes against my ribcage and diaphragm, driving the air from my lungs and leaving me unable to retaliate or effectively defend myself.
I felt one of my ribs give way beneath the ruthless assault and could feel the blood beginning to pool in my right lung.
Staggering backward, I raised my fists and coughed up a mouthful of blood.
This was the end, I could feel it.
The mutant beetle slowly stalked forward, apparently having arrived at the same conclusion I had. “Worthy-k-k-k. Prey-k-k-k,” it clacked sombrely, seemingly disappointed that our battle would soon come to an end.
“Wh-Why?!” I demanded, falling to my hands and knees as oxygen deprivation rapidly began to take its toll. A fatal weakness that was inherent to my substantial size and mass.
The creature seemed to consider the question for several moments before arriving at an acceptable answer. “Orders-k-k-k...” It replied quietly. “Must-k-k-k. Obey-k-k-k,” Despite the absurdity of it all, the creature almost sounded apologetic.
The pain in my head had gone beyond the threshold of my perception and I could feel my nervous system shutting down.
Ironic, given that a lack of oxygen would have resulted in the same outcome if it had been given the chance.
Falling to my side, I vomited another mouthful of blood onto the street and fought hard to draw another breath but found I couldn’t manage it.
[ HP: -30/60 ]
With the world growing darker by the second, the numbers remained in perfect focus, a final twist of the knife announcing my defeat and impending death.
Pushing such thoughts aside, I tried to make my final thoughts of my family but found I couldn’t remember their faces...
***** Lurr ~ Asrusian Former Capital *****
Forced to take a seemingly endless string of detours to avoid the hordes of Humans fleeing toward the portal, Lurr could only watch in horror as the Tyrant’s HP had deteriorated.
With no more Humans to get in his way, Lurr had begun charging headlong down long stretches of empty stone paths and leaping the humans' surface caves to make up for lost time.
Only, it was not enough.
Even through his tears, Lurr could see that he had failed.
The Tyrant had fallen.
Lurr could feel the energy inside of him begging for release. Overcome with grief and rage, he did exactly that.
Power surged through his veins and lent him a swiftness he had never known was possible.
Stone paths and the surface caves passed in a blur, like rivers coated in ash.
Guided by his connection to the Tyrant, Lurr spared no thoughts for potential enemies he might encounter in his path. Solely focused on avenging the Tyrant or at the least, retrieving his body.
It would not undo his failure, but it was the least he could do for the Tyrantess and her children.
Arriving far sooner than he had expected, Lurr found two unfamiliar monsters beside the Tyrant’s body.
Howling with rage, Lurr charged. Before either creature had time to react, Lurr buried his axe shaft deep into the belly of the smaller creature, sending both it and his axe flying down the path.
The larger creature, which had been moving to fight back, abruptly leaped backward, abandoning the fight and retrieving its companion.
Lurr prepared to give chase but stopped as a board of letters and words appeared before his eyes.
[ Save the Tyrant!!! ]
[ Reward: {To be named by the individual/s that complete the Quest. (Divided according to contribution.} ]
[The Tyrant has fallen and is in critical condition! Gric, the King of Daemons, has called for all loyal subjects to escort the Tyrant to safety and ensure he receives {Healing} before it is too late! ]
Does the Tyrant live?!
Casting the creatures from his thoughts, Lurr hurriedly removed the token from his belt and took hold of the Tyrant’s cold bloody hand.
Concentrating as best as he was able, Lurr focused on his memories of Sanctuary and The Grove. Specifically, the magical portal the Tyrant had created so Lurr could visit his grandchildren and tribemates.
The energy within him swelled and surged through his body but was quickly drawn toward the token in his tightly clenched fist. Like an unstoppered waterskin in the hands of a reckless child, Lurr could feel the energy was leaving his body at an unsustainable rate and could only hope that it would be enough.
Mere seconds from losing the last of his energy, Lurr felt a profound sense of relief as the human camp was left behind and replaced with the familiar sights and smells of The Grove.
“HERE!!!” Lurr roared, straining his voice and lungs to make himself as loud as possible.
Just as he was preparing to take a second breath, one of the Daemons appeared beside him with a strange-looking staff in hand.
Without saying a word, the many-limbed female Daemon snatched the Tyrant’s hand from Lurr’s grasp and they both disappeared.
Through his connection to the Tyrant, Lurr could feel the Tyrant's presence and knew he had not been taken far. Despite the lethargy creeping into his veins, Lurr forced his weary legs to chase after the Daemon.
Leaving The Grove, Lurr was not surprised to find that he was headed for the house of Healing. After all, if Wraithe, the Healing Daemon, had not appeared to receive the Tyrant, the other Daemon would have taken the Tyrant to her.
Entering the house of Healing, Lurr took the steps in long strides, descending each floor with reckless speed.
Pushing past the Serpent-Kin at the bottom, Lurr was shocked to find the healing Daemon straddling the Tyrant’s waist and slamming her fists against his chest.
“BEAT DAMN YOU!!!” Wraithe shrieked, slamming her fists against his chest in a double-handed blow while one of the Serpent-Kin pressed a strange leather mask over the Tyrant’s face. The Daemon repeated her assault for several long moments before noticing Lurr by the entrance to the room. “YOU! COME HERE!” She demanded.
The authority in her command had Lurr halfway across the room before he even realised what was happening.
“Hand here!” Wraithe snapped, grabbing Lurr’s wrist with a strength that belied her small frame. “Now shock him!” She demanded urgently, “Use whatever you have in the tank! Just do it now!”
“...” Lurr wanted to do what she wanted, but he didn’t know how.
“Think lightningy thoughts!” Wraithe snapped, causing several of the nearby Serpentkin and lesser Healers to flinch away in fear.
“Lightning...” Lurr closed his eyes and did his best to remember the storm that had returned his strength.
He remembered the strange spell that had hung in the air. The wet feeling of the rain against his skin. The way his heart had raced as the power coursed through his veins.
The lingering remnants of the energy inside of him began to stir.
Lurr remembered the Tyrant watching over him, his eyes betraying his deep and sincere concern for Lurr’s wellbeing. The elation on the Tyrant’s face upon learning of their success...
Lurr felt the energy flow down his arm and into his hand. The scent of the storm filled his nostrils and the energy disappeared.
A fresh wave of lethargy threatened to drive Lurr to his knees, but through sheer grit and stubbornness, he remained standing. Determined to see things through to the end.
Wraithe wrapped her clawed hand around the Tyrant’s throat.
The room remained silent as a tomb.
On the verge of collapse, Lurr felt an unexpected surge in strength as energy began passing through his hand, up his arm, and back into his body.
The Tyrant’s body jerked and dark blood spattered over his mouth and chin.
“HIS SIDE!!!” Wraithe shrieked excitedly, “TURN THE TYRANT ONTO HIS SIDE!!!” She leaped off his waist and began straining her wiry muscles to their limit trying to roll the Tyrant over.
Still somewhat lethargic, Lurr was slow to act. However, it didn’t matter. Several other Daemons had entered the room without him noticing and lent their strength to Wraithe mere moments after the words had passed her razor-sharp teeth.
The Tyrant jerked again, hacking, wheezing, and expelling more of the dark blood.
Unsure what to do, Lurr considered backing away to give the Healers more space. However, before he could act on those thoughts, Wraithe pinned him in place with a deadly glare.
“You! Stay put!” Wraithe commanded. “We are not out of the woods yet! Not by a long shot! And those lightning hands of yours will be needed!”
Relieved to learn he had a justified reason for staying close to the Tyrant, Lurr nodded obediently and rested his right hand on the Tyrant’s shoulder. Unsure whether the Tyrant would need the energy himself, Lurr tried giving it back. However, it was as fruitful as pushing against a river, and Lurr quickly found himself receiving far more than he was able to return.
“Whatever you are doing, keep doing it!” Wraithe snapped without turning her head, but sparing a momentary glare from the corner of her eye to indicate she had been speaking to Lurr. “The Tyrant is not stable enough for invasive surgery! And there is no way I will risk complications from the Devil’s Spell when the Tyrant is barely hanging on by a thread as it is!”
“Perhaps a feeding tube?” One of the younger Healers, a short scrawny Human suggested meekly.
The room went silent and the small Human cowered as all eyes turned to stare at him.
“What did you say?” Wraithe asked, her voice dangerously sweet and full of the promise of violence.
The small Human gulped nervously and backed away, his body already drowning in sweat. “I-It-t’s j-jus-s-st,” the Human stammered.
Wraithe was no longer paying attention to the Human and her face shifted expressions so quickly Lurr couldn’t keep track. “No...No James is right! YOU!” She pointed a dangerously sharp claw at many-legged Daemon, “Go to the Dwergi and demand one of their larger leather hoses!”
The many-legged Daemon nodded and disappeared.
“Feeding tube...that’s a good catch, James,” Wraithe commented approvingly, “We can get far more nutrients into the Tyrant’s belly with the hose rather than relying on massaging his throat...letting his Racial Ability do most of the work and restore his vitality that much faster. I’ll remember this.” She gave the small Human a firm nod of approval before returning her focus to the Tyrant.
The small Human would have collapsed but was supported by a small crowd of other lesser Healers.
Unsure what the Healers intended, it wasn’t until Lurr witnessed them poking a hollow leather rope down the Tyrant’s throat that he began to understand.
The Tyrantess arrived shortly afterward, and despite putting on a brave face, Lurr could tell she still feared for the worst.
As time dragged by and the Tyrant’s vitality returned, it became increasingly difficult for Lurr not to share the same feelings himself when the Tyrant failed to awaken.
“The Tyrant just needs time to recover...” Wraithe explained gently, patting the Tyrantess’ arm reassuringly. “To have survived at all, it is already something of a miracle...” Her long whip-like tail twitched and she eyed the Angels and other Spirits standing quietly in the corner.
The Spirits had arrived as a group and spoken with no one, seemingly content with waiting in the corner. However, despite taking their vigil in the corner of the room, they didn’t appear to be looking at the Tyrant.
Following their collective gaze to the far side of the room, Lurr was surprised to find another Spirit was staring back at them.
Lurr was even more surprised to find the Spirit had the Tyrant’s face. However, the dark empty depths of the Spirit’s eyes felt so wrong that he couldn’t accept that they were in any way alike at all.
As if sending his gaze, the Spirit turned to face Lurr instead, and he felt his blood run cold.
“Soon...” The Spirit whispered, causing the Spirits opposite to flinch and close ranks around the youngest amongst them. “Mine...In time...” The Spirit promised nonchalantly and then evaporated like a small pool of water in the midday sun.