Asheron's Fall: The Power of Ten, Book Six

“We probably did a real good job of hammering their subspecies identity into their teeth,” Princess Kristie snorted. “Blue is a really bad color to be back home outside of Viamont, and even there it isn’t what it was. Their skin color is going to have a bad name for centuries and longer after what we did to them, and their dreams of empire are ash. If they try that conquest shit again, they may well be exterminated.”

I just nodded. Sama and Briggs had just unloaded on the fuckers. They’d brought down an empire in flames and blood, eradicated whole clans and families, taken the fight right into Viamont and scorched the ground and land black with flame. “You do know that at least one member of the royal family chased the Bellenesse into a Portal, presumably to here, way back when?”

Kris sniffed as she looked around. “I can imagine what kind of deviltry they got up to with not the slightest bit of oversight, and given how massively their family fucked up in Viamont, I can’t imagine they did any better than anyone else when the magic failed here.”

Given their arrogance and racism, I couldn’t dispute that from Shamira’s side of things. The Viamontians had been VERY full of themselves.

I wondered how well that had survived after meeting their possible forebears, and members of a magical civilization as old as this place portended? With their arrogance, they probably only considered it something to dominate and exceed...

We watched the serpent-man materialized from the respawn, something called a Sclavus, fall apart into vivus, its Summon spot forever sealing, both of us eyeing it with distaste.

“That thing screamed Created Race and unnatural to me,” Kris admitted, flipping Quaver over in her fingers and sheathing the happily humming Blade as it shrank to dagger size behind her waist. “Something was off about it that put my teeth on edge.”

Perhaps it had been the almost boneless, sinuous way its slender body moved, as if its bones were flexible. Perhaps the overall silence, save for some hissing. Perhaps just revulsion for the cold reptilian eyes and emotionless stare as it fought.

Regardless, I’d found it unnerving as well. Something had been very off about it.

“I don’t think the source creature could reproduce naturally,” I offered, going over what it looked like. “But I don’t think it was genderless...”

“A Created race of servants that is only male?” Kris just rolled her eyes. “I’m going home now. I’ve had it up to here with the inane works of you Casters.”

“We both know alchemists and artificers make the wildest and worst stuff, and they’re open to Forsaken, so shut it, Your Highness.” She smirked at me and gave me a rude finger in acknowledgment of that point.

“So, with the addition of these Sclavi, that Burun, and those Lugians, what are we up to for intelligent races?” she asked by way of ceding the argument.

“Thirteen, with another three skeletal remains, but unproven to still be around... and that is not considering the olthoi’s queens are probably sapient.”

She nodded once. “No, no, this is not some place artificially overstuffed with intelligent races for fun and excitement by interested third parties, nopers!”

I just tossed my eyes. “Can’t blame just us Casters for this!” I complained.

“Sure I can. You draw all the attention from the fourth parties!” she reasoned, and I just sniffed and waved her off in mock contempt for her barbaric opinion... true as it might be.

“Let’s see if we can make it to this Yanshi place. Should only be a couple more miles...”

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“Fuckfuckfuckfuck FUUUCK!” I blurted out, and sent another flight of Shards into the old mosswart.

It was taller than the ones laying dead all around, the scaled semi-amphibians sliced and chewed up by magic and blades, including the bright green ones that had actually been spellcasters... and which Kris had hacked through.

This old one was giving her the business, however. Well, it was trying to.

The swirling shields of force from Quaver were probably keeping her alive at this time, while she brought out all the swordplay knowledge she knew to both wound this horrifically dangerous old thing and stay alive.

This Mosswart Cynic was level 200 under the Assay! It had Soak in the thousands!

Kris had responded to her sudden discovery and being attacked with her usual energy, and the fact only a tithe of the creatures were Summoned didn’t stop her. This old fart charging out of the ruin of the pyramidal structure still emitting faint arcane lights, however, had taken us totally by surprise, both with its speed and its striking power.

Kris was using full Seven Dragons swordplay for the very first time since we'd met, yet only the fact that Quaver was also a Blooding Weapon was keeping her in the fight, as the old fart had some natural Fast Healing of great speed, according to its Assay. It simply would have Fast Healed away her damage almost entirely if Blooding were not there!

True Casting! “Zojak Quaguz!” I straight-up shouted out for the follow-up, and flaming Shards drove into the bastard’s side, punching through a LOT of magic resistance to do so, and set its side on fire.

The coiling Ways of all Seven Dragons were fully on display inside the flaring mists and Lost Lights of Quaver if you knew what to look for, yet Kris was still employing all-out reversed Power Attack Rule of Valus Ocean Swordplay, giving up striking deep for more control and speed, just so she could hit this bastard consistently.

The distraction of my Shards impacting it so hard, and a Silver spell of Fire within the Shards exploding on its side, gave her an opening. Quaver flickered in and out in less than an eyeblink, past a blocking hand that didn’t just fly off when a +X adamantine edge skirled over it, and she nearly took out its eye.

Incensed, it tried to get around her, only to find her lightfoot wasn’t any worse than its own, and that Hag vitality of hers wasn’t giving way to whatever energies were empowering it. Incensed, it unleashed a deadly flurry of pounding strikes against her... and this time, dark blood bloomed along its arm as Sword Beats Fist triggered and it ran its arms right into Quaver’s edge with its own power.

I dumped a Silver Healing spell into Kris, her Null letting the spell through as the impacts of its fists rippled through her Soak with incredible force, punching through her DR with power enough to break stone.

This old mosswart was the equivalent of a high-level Casting Monk, and we’d basically just wiped out its students. It was not happy with us!

Well, that was fine. Its Aura was a deep Ruby, there was a ton of innocent blood on its hands, probably human, and Holy power blasting into it had clearly made it flinch in shock at the spiritual agony of Heaven not liking it one damned bit.

Kris wasn’t giving up anything to the creature in raw strength, and it was clearly relying on an immense pool of Health Qi to just batter her to death before turning on me.

True Cast! Another flight of Shards swirled out, the no-miss variety it had no hope of dodging, and it could not help but brace as they came in hammering, the triple array of Arcane, Force, and Holy fires blazing over it for long and hungry seconds after the impacts as Quaver flicked in and almost opened up its throat.

Incensed, it just flicked through the process, and the strongest War Magic I’d ever seen began to manifest... and I let it.

The powerful Fire Bolt, it had to be a VII, something Mira had no memories of, slammed into Kris with incredible fury. It should have really fried her in place, as it managed to punch through her Null and explode over her with its full power.

In return, blood blossomed along its neck as it barely dodged Quaver’s point in its throat, Kris just snarled, and her own whirling flicker-cuts of a Weapon that shouldn’t be wielded so lightly danced around spiraling shield-motes of Lost Light that seemed to become little more than swirling butterflies, cuts erupting on its side, its thigh, and across its cheek in a three-Dragon combo it couldn’t follow.

Kris was immune to fire and lightning by her Rantha heritage. It could use both on her all day, even try to make her Vulnerable to such, and it would make no more difference to her than using fire or cold on me would.

She didn’t have Bane to Mosswarts, so when the Vulnerability to Fire flashed into existence about the thing after another True Casting by me, the butterfly of shadowed and silvery force pulses was joined by the blossoming flower of a Firephasing Blade being wielded with all the speed in multiple Profound Combinations.

Ding! Ting!

She even had the energy to Sing, Heartsong swirling around her as her Battledance exploded onto it, and she began to drive it back, back, back as adamantine flames chewed into and through its scales.

True Casting! “Cruath Quasith!” I made sure she heard, her thoughts completely subsumed into the fight. The familiar gray flash of natural armor being rendered porous flashed over the old thing. Two cuts on its forearm erupted a second later, no longer quite so able to deny the laser-like edge of Quaver.

“Blood of the children upon you, crawled from the swamp you came!

“Your choices you’ll rue, the payment is due,

“And down you’ll come in flame!

“TREMBLE! TREMBLE, WE COME!” she howled at him, her thoughts riding a razor-edge of hurricane fury and elemental serenity, all eight of her canines gaping at him in a ferocious smile that looked too big for her face.

Hey, salamander-face, meet an Intimidation check with a VERY hefty circumstance modifier, the flaming flowers of her attacks joined to her Battledance making the thing’s bulging eyes widen as her fury descended upon it.

Ranthas fought in all the ways, and inflicting shaking knees and sapping the will to fight was just opportunity in her eyes, while I saw the first knives of fear take hold as this thing fought something it was completely unprepared to face.

Fear triggered sneak attack damage with her instant Dazzling Display of Phoenix Flares its Feathers fueling Shatter Defenses, and suddenly +8d6 of Sneak Attack damage was online as it couldn’t dodge her blows with reflexes slowed by fear.

It desperately hammered back at her as the yammering of fright pounded on the back of its brain, the swirl of flames and force Lost Light drawing flower after butterfly after bird after sun after serpent in front of its bulging eyes, all made out of flame and silver shadows, and all of them coming for it!

I politely kept up with the Healing Magic, which I was VERY good at. Enhanced by Augment Healing and Lightning, Cold, and Power in the Blood for +4/die, a Silver Heal Other doing 10d4+20 in Healing was popped to received an extra +48 boost... with Imbued Healing dropping another 12 points of temporary Soak on top, ablating the Cynic’s next strike.

There was no way it could make any headway, and its one attempt to heal its own injuries sparked and fizzled as the bite of the Curse magic on the edge of its wounds prevented both Fast Healing and Healing Magic from taking effect without it being removed, or come the dawn, whichever came first.

Dawn wasn’t far, but it wasn’t close enough for this thing to survive with Blooding locking down its recovery ability.

Its ability to dodge compromised, Cuts the Waterfall added a further lava-like liquid element to her Swordplay, hitting harder, harder, harder! The blur of her attacks and the fires they were delivering drove the elder mosswart back, completely off-balance as to what it was facing, unable to look past the special effects to the fundamental martial principles powering them with her screaming at it.