Chapter Three Hundred And Seventy Five – 375
Stone Shaping is level 78!
Extended from the dun-colored bluffs that the Warren was built into, Felix had formed squat structures that ran alongside the skeleton. Mostly they were walls, curved up and designed to block as much of the savage wind as they could. The rest were choke points around the more wide-open sections of the blackened Leviathan skeleton, where his people could fight if needed. He wasn't an architect or an expert on fortifications, but he did his best in the time they had.
"Back! Back! I want a line of defenders here and here!" Darius shouted, pointing at places in Felix's impromptu structures.
"No archers until we see how this hits!" Harn bellowed right behind the Hand. "Henaari! Focus on spear work and maintain distance!"
The shaman and Atar and even that Palis woman had been clear about what was coming. The storm, the Cursewinds, were harbingers of the desert's worst foes and no one was taking it lightly.
The stormfront was far larger than Felix had anticipated. From an indeterminate distance, it had seemed simply massive, stretching across a portion of the horizon and blocking the flare of the rising sun. Yet as it roared toward themquite literally too, according to their Affinitiesthe Cursewinds proved itself thousands of feet wide and as tall as any skyscraper Felix had seen. The sheer presence of it filled Felix's senses, a behemoth of wind and sand and death.
When the storm hit, it hit Felix's fortifications first.
Sand scoured them first, like a roaring curtain of miniature hail. Shields were raised and Skills were used, but the sands tore into them mercilessly. Not even Felix's shaped defenses were immune as the stormwall passed, the thickest and most intense portion of the tempest. They were scratched and pitted by the relentless assault. Felix was only thankful no one had taken undue damage from it; his protections had worked.
"Arclight!" Darius bellowed over the howling winds. The stormwall passed them, but the winds from within the sandstorm were gale-force at the very least. "Send first volley!"
Mages all along their impromptu battlements raised their hands, ensconced behind shaped fortifications and the upright slats of Leviathan bone. Blue-white lightning kindled in their palms, Mana Gates spewing out flickers of condensed power as every mage in their company shot out a spell. It was the most minor of spells, the lightning version of Sparkbolt, yet intimidating in number if not potency. Still, the spells were caught by the Cursewind after traveling about ten feet, twisting them astray until they were snuffed out entirely.
"Keep all magic close! The winds will skew your aim!" Harn bellowed. "Be ready! They're here!"
From his own, higher vantage, Felix watched as the boiling hurricane spewed torrents of sand. Among the sand, riding atop the winds itself, desiccated warriors with rusted armor and broken weaponry appeared. They dropped to the earth, landing on walls and sandy dunes, dozens at first and more on the way. The moment they touched down, their eyes swiveled toward Felix and his people, and a blackened green limned them in hissing light.
"Undead! Brace!"
The creatures charged, flailing their ragged bodies toward them all. Felix squinted through the winds, and activated his Eye.
Voracious Eye!
Name: Dustwight
Type: Undead
Level: 39
HP: 0/0
SP: 3412/3422
MP: 1189/1189
Lore: Undead are once living creatures bound by necromantic Mana to the Will of another. Some monsters use necromantic Mana in the natural course of their lives, though they are hunted avidly when found. In either case, such creatures do not have any Health, instead suffering all damage to their vast Stamina. When their Stamina is reduced to nothing, only then can they be killed for good.
Strength: More Data Required
Weakness: More Data Required
Damn, they're strong. And hard to put down, Felix grimaced. He called up Stone Shaping once again and attempted to adjust his fortifications. They weren't bad, but now that the Dustwights were coming at them, he could see places where they could be improved. Yet, when his Mana travelled outward, it was eaten up by the storm winds, until only a whisper of his power reached its destination. Shit! It wasn't nearly enough to do what he wanted. I'll have to get closer.
The undead didn't let him. There were so many now. Their shambling movements were faster than Felix realized, because they had reached his people below.
"Fire!"
A wash of flame erupted from Felix's left, where Atar held his arm up and out. His Field of Flames drenched the sand with almost-liquid orange Mana, all of it blazing with fire, setting even the stone ablaze. The Dustwights made no screams or wails, only pushed through the fire as if it weren't there, even as it ate into their ragged leather and papery flesh.
"Bolts!"
Lightning bolts shot out once the undead crossed within a dozen feet. They were mashed together so tightly that even those that missed their target still hit a creature, though Felix could see the Cursewinds taking a bite out of their power. The bolts drilled through flesh and withered muscle, but again that did not stop many. Hooked spears came down, thrust through chests and skulls with equal ease, demolishing the Dustwights one by one while the tight corridors of shaped stone kept their advance manageable.
The real problem was the overflow, as the undead did not stop coming. More and more were disgorged from the storm every second, until the dunes before them were teeming with their number. Most were dressed the same, in rusted metal and leather armor, perhaps with wrappings of ragged cloth twisting in the wind. A few, however, were equipped with hulking plate armor and weapons as big as any Felix had seen. Warhammers, mauls, and great axes to name a few, these Dustwights lumbered with the steady slow gait of those with great Strength and too little Agility.
Paladins, Felix realized. He could make out their emblem, rusted and sand-scoured though it was, centered upon their breastplates. A lot of Paladins. How many have died since coming here?
Of the mass that was before him, Felix spotted at least a third wearing the distinctive armor of a Paladin or a Squire. The Pathless zealots had faced the Cursewinds more than once, it seemed, and as much as that thrilled Felix it also left him with the annoyance of fighting their undead corpses.
The Dustwights pressed forward, no longer running, but clambering up and over one another. It was a wild, chaotic mess, and Felix figured it would just tire them out or damage them in some way...until he saw them scaling his fortifications. When he saw the first armored Dustwight stumbling forward along one of his walls, his gut soured.
Rain of Cata
Before the spell fully sang to life, a silver spear caught the former Paladin straight through the chest. It exploded, leaving nothing left of the undead save for some mangled boots. Felix grinned as Vess appeared, leaping across the fortifications to plant two more Spears into the press of withered flesh. Air and metal Mana exploded, their radius so much greater than it had been a few months prior, killing ten or fifteen in a single blow.
Evie followed, her chain dancing across the top of the crowd and tearing heads from necks with every revolution. She flipped and was flung, her Body's mass moved into her chain as she whipped it across the battlefield, only to land in a flurry of ice and spinning blades. The Dustwights proved themselves more than unthinking beasts, as they began avoiding the two of them in short order, scattering whenever they saw one of the women coming from above.
They were rarely fast enough.
Beyond that, Alister stepped among the dunes, his feet planted atop columns of summoned blue force. Each step would lift him up and outward, traversing the walls and crushing undead with each stomping foot. Force Mana surged from him, hitting the sands like a man-sized hammer and reducing Dustwights to desiccated paste. His rapier did not pause either, as the force-attuned ward around him blocked the sandpaper wind but did not stop his blade from stabbing bolts of kinetic power atop choice targets.
Atar was there too, though he kept closer to the Leviathan skeleton than the rest. While the others were using shields or simply the strength of their Bodies to tank the abrasive nature of the storm, Atar simply burned it all away. He was a column of fire among the dark sky and orange dusted air, and all who drifted near him were subsumed by his flames.
Damn, dude. He could feel how much Mana that must be costing the guy, but Atar didn't seem to care. His Imbued Sparkbolts whirled around him, occasionally spearing outward to melt two or three Dustwights to stinking puddles. He's gonna run out of Mana too fast.
Pit chirped from his side, eagerness clear in his tone. "You too? Can you even fly in that?"
Yes.
"...Alright, fine. Just be careful." The words were barely out of his mouth when Pit leaped past him and into the air, thundering away on streamers of air Mana. Keep an eye on Atar. I'm worried about his Mana use.
Elated confirmation whispered back at him before Pit wheeled through the sky, wings disrupting the orange sands in the air. The Cursewinds howled, and Pit shrieked right back, summoning Frost Spears before dive bombing the undead in the further back. Tension curdled Felix's stomach until he realized his Companion's Health was dropping by the tiniest of amounts before his natural regeneration ticked it back up.
He'll be fine, he reassured himself. He's certainly tougher than Atar and Evie.
"They have things in hand," Zara said from behind him, almost mimicking his thoughts. She had her arms akimbo and her ice blue eyes flicked among the horde. "The Legion and your team. I see no reason for my presence. I shall retire to the lower chambers to study those weavings the Yttin made. If you have need of me, simply call."
She nodded at a brightly feathered kingfisher that had appeared in the room. It was her familiar or something, named Keru, and it hopped once atop the window sill. Felix pursed his lips but nodded. She left moments later.
Felix didn't like it, but Zara had a point. Either of them could have ended this fight quickly, but so long as his people weren't in imminent danger this was a great chance for them to grow, even Pit and the rest of his team. Felix had been tempted to cull the Dustwights' numbers before, but with his team chipping in there was no need. Already the undead had stopped crowding as much, fleeing his people even as they were whittled down to more manageable numbers.
Training. Hm.
Hours passed as Felix sat within his Stone Shaped chamber near the Leviathan's sternum, watching as the waves of undead thinned but never faltered. More came, as if the storm carried an endless supply. He wondered at that, in fact, as the Dustwights came raining down from the sky. Were the Cursewinds just a way to transport undead across the Expanse? Why? What was the point, other than mayhem and violence? He could feel the Primordial's eerie Intent all around him now, present but not overwhelming, but there was no meaning behind it. It simply felt...instinctual. Like it needed whatever this happened to be, whatever function the Cursewinds served. He'd put the question to Zara, dragging her back up to his outpost, but she'd professed that it was one of the many mysteries of the Continent.
"Greater Minds than my own have attempted to unravel the Scorched Expanse's deadly secrets, but none have succeeded. Few, in fact, ever returned from such inquiries," she had said before vanishing below once again.
Danger and more danger. Felix drummed his fingers on the bone next to him. A withering Primordial and a vast desert of tireless guardians, hunting down anyone crossing the Expanse. It's a wonder anyone bothers to come into this desert at all, though Zara had claimed to be surprised at the knowledge of a Primordial here. Had it not been active before? He thought on the Dustborn Wraiths, on what the Prioress had said. They'd never seen the Wraiths before. So does that mean something woke this Primordial up?
He groaned.
What are the odds that it was this other Unbound?
Felix didn't like how likely that felt, considering his own history. For now, it was speculation though.
The battle still raged as midday approached. The undead were seemingly tireless, but his people were not. The Legionnaires were swapped out in groups to let them stay fresh, but the groups were kept relatively small. Darius claimed it increased the stress and tension within the fighters, giving them a greater chance to advance their Skills or even learn new ones. Felix would have called bullshit on that, if Harn hadn't agreed. Felix knew stress increased the rewards from battle, but increasing it on purpose felt perverse.
He could not, however, deny its effectiveness. The dulcet tones of Skill ups and level gains reached Felix even over the roar of the Cursewinds, while the collective Spirit of his people rose to shattering crescendos with every passing hour. They were exhausted and bleeding, but there was a joy there, baked into their collective strain and conflict with the undead.
Felix found his own joy along the way, focusing on his lesser used Skills and attempting to push them in new directions. He Eyed everyone he could see, watching the Dustwights as they fought and died. All of them had the same information, plus or minus a few levels and Stamina totals. What benefited however, was the updates to their Strengths and Weaknesses.
Name: Dustwight
...
Strength: Movement and normal attacks do not use Stamina, and Stamina recovers rapidly when not in combat.
Weakness: Agility is low as is their Perception. Strength is tied to remaining Stamina.
Voracious Eye is level 80!
Mostly obvious things, but he passed the knowledge down to his commanders Harn and Darius to use as best they could. Every little bit helped. Even the Leviathan skeleton was useful, as the pressure they all felt was apparently far worse on the undead.
Any that came closer than twenty feet were at some point afflicted by a Status Condition called Forbiddance. It slowed their movements just a tad, manifesting as a haze around their limbs that ebbed and flowed into the visual spectrum. It grew in strength the closer they drew to the skeleton, but Felix hadn't had a chance to see if it'd stop them from entering. The Henaari, Risi, or Legion would kill them before that ever happened.
Things were going pretty well, all things considered. Everyone was tired and aching, and Felix was a little bored, but they were doing it. The Legion was cooperating or at least following orders. It was looking up.
Which of course was when the battlefield exploded.
Ice and fire burst, ripping through ranks of the undead and shattering one of his weakened walls. Felix surged to his feet, eyes panning the scene, only to land on the ice-burned epicenter...where Evie and Atar writhed on the ground, screaming as Mana boiled in and out of both of them. A set of brassy horns, crashing cymbals, and rolling timpanis tore into his Mind and Spirit.
"Felix!" Vess yelled. She stood closer to him and jabbed at their friends with her spear. "They're Tempering!"
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