Mira nodded. “Now that I’m not going to get somebody killed because I suddenly get a bout of weakness, yes.”
With a mental command, she opened up her System menu. Even though she felt much better, it still came as a surprise when it opened up without issue.
Over the past week - ever since coming to the Shiverglades - she had been experiencing worse and worse blackouts of her System. Whenever she wanted to use an ability or a spell, nothing happened.
Trying to pull up stats or allocate EXP was practically a coin toss. She couldn’t put Hal or any of her friends in jeopardy like that. It was one of the reasons she so willingly took to exploring the caves with the dwarves.
They had finished days ago, and when given the opportunity to work on the wall, Mira asked them to let her stay on her own. By then, the dwarves thought she could handle herself, and the cavern complex directly below Orrittam’s lair was hardly dangerous.
Had they known how weak she had grown, they wouldn’t have left. Likely, they would have whisked her away to Ashera or Buffrix, or worse, Hal. Not that Hal could have helped her, but she didn’t want to distract him.
Being a leader was something she was proud of him for, the last thing she wanted was to sidetrack him by forcing a Quest to help her onto his already bowed shoulders. Not that she would ever tell him she was proud of him.
A girl had to keep her mystery. Better to let them all think that she was being aloof than to tell them the truth.
“This stays between us,” Mira said. “Got it?”
“Your friends care deeply for you, Mira. Surely they would appreciate knowing your circumstance. They may even be able to find a permanent solution.”
“Between. Us.”
“Oh, very well!” Orrittam huffed. “You humans are so prickly. I will keep your secret. In fact, despite your ill-fated attempt to hide your ailment, I will give you a boon.”
Mira quirked an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”
“While there exist a myriad of Worldshards where Dragoons hunt and kill dragons, there are many more where Dragoons hunt alongside dragons. Many even bond them in an attempt to garner more power.”
“I thought I told you I wasn’t interested in sex?” she said, trying to stifle a laugh. Pushing people’s buttons was kind of her thing.
In a fit of surprising fury, Orrittam blew out twin jets of gold flame from his nostrils. The air in the room suddenly became sweltering, and Mira’s smirk was quickly wiped from her flushed face.
“This is serious, Mira.”
“Oh, very well,” Mira said with a dramatic sigh. “Do go on.” While she did well to keep the fear and concern from her face, she was poignantly reminded that she was dealing with a real florking dragon.
Not some drake, a wurm, or even a wyrm, but an actual dragon.
It was easy to think that the golden dragon was a pushover due to his polite mannerisms and somewhat prissy attitude. And the fact that he was stuck. But, had he wanted to, he could have easily roasted Mira where she stood.
Maybe she would have survived, maybe not.
There were few other adversaries that could likely take on the Dragoon one-on-one and potentially win so swiftly and effortlessly. If Orrittam had full function of his entire body, then it wouldn’t even be a contest.
Your Deception has risen to Level 25.
+1% Deception success (+25%).
+0.5% Deception awareness (+12.5%).
-0.5% Reputation loss (-12.5%).
You have 2 Deception Perk points awaiting assignment.
She was looking forward to spending those perks. She had hit Level 20 Deception way back when a dwarf asked her if she knew what a “bed of beards” was, and she had said no.
Of course she knew what a dwarven harem was!
Leveling Up Deception was fun, and not something that was going to hurt anybody. Besides, it helped her to keep her secrets… secret. As they were supposed to be.
She turned her attention back to Orrittam, who was patiently waiting.
“Ahem,” he said, clearing his throat with a bassy rumble. “As I was saying, Dragoons of certain Worldshards are capable of tapping into draconic powers. Aldim just so happens to be one such Worldshard. And if you are going to defend this fledgling kingdom, I would do my part in empowering you with a gift.
“A word of warning, however. This gift is temporary, it will last for precisely a single hour. Use it only when you are in dire need of strength.” As he spoke, a keinse came around the side of his long golden neck. Clutched within its tiny taloned feet was a golden scale.
Mira took it, staring at it in awe. It was as large as a tea saucer and glittered in the mid-morning sun.
“The assault will happen tonight, and I fear you will need all the help you can get.”
Putting the [Gold Dragon Scale] into her inventory, Mira gave a respectful bow to Orrittam. “Thank you.” The scale had practically hummed with power when she held it. All it would take was a mental command to consume it and gain whatever strength it could grant.
Being a Golden Dragoon sounds pretty badash - oh come on! She groaned. At least let me have that one!
“Have they found him yet?” Mira asked, once she had mastered her frustration.
“No, and I fear that the keinse will be needed to scout out the assault coming your way. Already they tell me of a disturbance to the south and west. Noth has them spread out searching for Hal, perhaps you could have a word with her?”
Grabbing her spear, Mira turned toward the exit. “I’ll do that. Hopefully, I won’t ruin the conversation by shirting my pants with that horrible concoction you made.”
“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
145
Durvin clapped his hands together, dusting the dirt from them. He nodded as he surveyed the gap.
Your Trapmaking Skill has risen to Level 12.
+2% Trap damage (+24%).
+5% Trap damage within tunnels (+60%).
+0.35% Trap creation speed (+4.2%).
Your Tactician Skill has risen to Level 9.
+1.7% Battle plan efficacy (+15.3%).
+1% Ambush & Trap success (+9%).
-0.45% Stamina usage when using Tactics (-4.05%).
+1.5% Damage when using Tactics (+13.5%).
Not a bad haul, Durvin thought to himself as he dismissed the notifications. Trapmaking was a dwarven pastime that, given his lineage and the struggle that had been dropped into his lap before he was fully whiskered, he understandably lacked.
Now he was making up for a youth spent dodging assassins and fending off opportunistic nobles.
It felt good to be out here, away from the political intrigue and webs of lies that the Anvil was known for. If he had it his way, he would never go back.
But many of his Clan were still back there, those that weren’t capable of fending for themselves quite as well as those brave men and women he had at his side now.
Durvin tamped down the loose soil around the spring-trap and stepped back to admire his latest trap. It wouldn’t stand up to the stuff his boys were doing elsewhere all over the gap, but it was decent enough.
And it paled in comparison to the horrors that the koblins were able to make. Gruesome looking things that looked like they would never work in a million years, but somehow managed to work better than most of the Bouldergut’s contraptions.
But none of them, not the most devious koblin, nor the most skilled dwarf, came close to the devilishly effective traps the Rangers made. Durvin couldn’t even see where they were hidden and his Perception was nearly 50.
That was why they were all using the karaks to haul materials and people, but most importantly to spot traps. The Kweh Gang had swiftly taken charge of the karaks they had used to get here and put them to work. While the Kweh Gang acted autonomously, they had their favorites.
Most of them would follow Hal - or Noth until Hal returned - but in the absence of either, the karaks did whatever the Rangers asked.<
br />
Boco Bluefeather, recently recovered from his battle injuries, was up and about in the gap. His dusty blue feathers rustled in the chill breeze as the beautiful bird traipsed up and down the gap bearing supplies and workers to and fro.
For some reason, the keen-eyed karaks could see what only the Rangers could. And that made them excellent overseers. With their tall graceful bodies, they could see quite far as well, much farther than a dwarf or koblin could.
If only they were in the tunnels. That was where a dwarf truly shined. Drop ceilings, false floors, crumbling walls, there was no end to the ingenuity of dwarfs.
The options were significantly more limited out with the great big sky above their heads. Pit traps, spring traps, and all manner of automatically resetting ambushes were laid after the initial walls were built.
Noth had been very explicit that they were to expect no friendly forces anytime soon. To the dwarfs who saw the Settlement as home and hearth, that meant they were in it for the long haul.
Angram and a couple of Rangers had gone off to one of the mountain spurs with supplies and a rope ladder in anticipation of Elora’s return. Apparently, there were others with Elora, but since the lass couldn’t talk to monsters like Noth or Hal could, nobody knew what exactly that meant.
The keinse flying over their heads were amazing scouts, but with only two people able to talk to them, their effectiveness was a bit like the Busterback twins. Good in a pinch, but hardly reliable.
Not a single race in all the world could extract a dwarf alive that was dug in and in defense of his or her home. And that is what the Settlement represented to each of them.
And so Durvin and Athagan got together to design the deadliest traps they could, making sure that only their forces would know the way through the deadly maze.
While Bardan put the finishing touches on his special project for Noth, Durvin finished the last of the spring traps and was carefully making his way through the dangerous gap.
Turning back to the north, Durvin looked at the Palisade Walls. A pair of koblins were busy modifying one of the central walls. It looked like they were putting a… treasure chest inside?
Scratching his beard, Durvin didn’t know what to make of that. But if they were doing it at the wall, then the little fellas must have gotten approval.
That curious gnome, Rondo, was up on the wall directing the koblins below and a couple of dwarfs who were facing the wall with strangely cut stones.
Even now, with hours to go until the assault was set to begin, dwarves were busy outfitting the defenses.
A few were getting their last spiked logs put in place, but for the most part, they were ready. As ready as any could be for an unknown enemy to assault their new home.
If the entrance had been to a cave, there was no force in all of Aldim that could stand against Durvin and his Clan. Being out in the open introduced a number of problems the cunning dwarfs were not used to.
Chiefly among them, was the utter lack of information.
They had no idea just what sort of monsters would be coming against them. Should they expect fliers, or creatures that stayed to the ground? Would they be smart or stupid?
And so they had to prepare for every eventuality.
A long resonant horn blew, 1 of 12 similar horns. Durvin had one, and so did every party leader of the wall defense. They had tested them earlier, and if somebody was playing around with them-
Another horn blew.
Durvin twisted about to see a towering mass of green vines topped with a wide head full of black obsidian teeth coming into the mouth of the gap at the southern end.
Several dwarfs were still working on their traps on the northern end of the gap. On Durvin’s orders, they had done the southern entrance first, working their way back.
Mostly to prevent mishaps from dwarfs like the Busterback twins. But it was useful in the event that the Shiverglades was a no-good, milk-drinking, troll-kissing, hammer-breaker that decided it would attack whenever it felt like.
Several dwarfs, koblins, and karaks watched as the Morbolger slithered into the gap and triggered the first trap. A series of spiked levers jumped out of the ground and impaled themselves into the creature’s tentacles.
Had the traps been typical manmade things, that would have been the end of it. The massive beast was far too large to be stopped by anything so puny. It would have ripped the supports, and the trap now embedded in its body.
If it had been manmade.
But it was not. A dwarf had made it, and not just any old dwarf. A Bouldergut.
Durvin watched with pride as the first stage of the trap finished, and a sudden popping sound echoed across the field as the spikes dislodged from the rod. The explosive force pushed the spikes deeper into the creature, while simultaneously pushing the rod that held the spikes back into its holster, resetting the trap.
It would take a good fifteen seconds before the spikes reformed, but there were plenty of traps to go around.
And that wasn’t all.
Slithering with much less grace and speed than before, the Morbolger was caught off guard when the charges set inside the spikes finally detonated.
Green sap was flung far and wide as three of its tentacles were blasted apart. The Morbolger fell to the ground with a heavy thump, triggering two more traps of similar design.
Similar, but not the same. A dwarf's craftsmanship was their calling card, and there were as many ways to make a simple spike trap as there were types of ale. Which was to say, a lot.
Durvin watched with a smile as the other two spike traps sprang to life and immediately let loose their hazardous payload.
Rather than imbed, the twisted, threaded spikes gored holes into the Morbolger’s flesh and blasted out the backside. They continued for a half a dozen yards until they fell to the ground, their momentum spent.
Had there been any other monsters nearby, they would have been similarly gored. The Morbolger did not rise again.
Off to the side, one of his boys whooped and hollered. As the creator of one of the traps that killed the monster, they would have gotten the EXP for it.
He hoped that would be all this would be. Dwarfs jockeying for the most kills by traps that would spring and kill their enemies long before they ever gained the walls.
They weren’t a large group that they could sustain heavy losses. Even mild casualties would be devastating. Their little slice of heaven still needed to survive the coming winter.
And that was nothing of the hit to morale, to the boy’s most of all. Hal had a naïve streak in him though he did well to hide it.
No doubt the boy thought they could weather the assault against their home without any casualties. They might avoid outright deaths, not that Durvin thought that likely, but there was no way they were coming out the other end of this mess whole and intact.
It was only midday, but already the air felt different.
Taking out his horn, Durvin gave three short blasts, the signal to fall back to the wall. Several heads turned to look his way curiously, but not one of them disobeyed.
Each of the men and women in the gap dropped what they were doing and began to make their way cautiously toward the walls. It was the air, it smelled wrong.
If there was one thing that had kept Durvin Bouldergut alive all his long life, it was his nose for trouble. He knew well enough by then when to pursue it and when to back off. And right now, his long nose was telling him there was trouble coming.
Bardan’s boys were high up on either side of the gap continuing their work. Durvin trusted in him to get those dwarfs to safety when it was time. The sun was barely past its zenith when the gap was emptied. Karaks swiftly ferried their charges safely behind the walls.
The last of the ramps was pulled up, and everybody looked curiously at Durvin. He wasn’t known to be a skittish leader, but his sudden order was a bit odd, considering they didn’t expect to be attacked for a good five hours hence.
But the air smelled w
rong.
There was a short blast of a horn high up on the ridge. One of Bardan’s scouts keeping an eye on the Shiverglades.
Without warning, a dozen Morbolgers suddenly broke through the soft earth and appeared in the middle of the gap. Right where they had been working up until a little while ago.
If he hadn’t pulled them back, they would have found themselves in the thick of things with only their tools to aid them.
Durvin turned to a stocky young dwarf he had tasked as a runner. “We’re to be fightin’ early,” he told the runner. “Spread the word, lad. And get out to the rest of the Rangers, we’ll want ‘em up on the high ground through Bardan’s stair before the gap gets too thick with monsters. It’s going to get worse afore it gets better, or I’m a bearded gnome!”
Rondo gave a flat stare to Durvin, stroking his beardless chin. Though his mutton chops had grown in quite nicely over the last few weeks.
“Just a sayin’,” Durvin said.
“Aren’t they always?” Rondo replied dryly, folding his small arms over his chest.
146
As Hal plummeted toward the rocky ground, he realized that a parachute - no matter the make - took time to catch the wind and slow a person’s fall. Too close to the ground, and it would do nothing.
Just as it was doing now.
There wasn’t much that could be done, freefalling as he was. But he still had to try.
He fell within himself, trying to stretch the parachute he had made with essence to catch more of the wind. If he could at least slow his fall enough not to be fatal, that would be worthwhile.
A deep wrenching pain in his guts made him cry out, just as he heard a distant voice in the back of his head.
“You really ought to stop getting yourself into these situations,” Besal said. “Straining yourself to the point of tapping into a higher essence tier you don’t yet have access to is a good way to pull something.”
Hal felt Besal’s power join with his, and the feeble attempt at altering his essence shifted. Rather than feeling like he was trying to punch in a dream, his body - and his essence - heeded his call.
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