by Ryan DeBruyn
Rocky tried to curse, “Frakkin Cylons!”
Chapter Five
The sound of tribal drums resounded in the clearing, vibrating every air molecule and sending a chill down Rocky's spine. There was only one thing that could make that sound—Bloodlust-Aura. There was no time to see how his fellow warriors fared as four ogres stared at him, ready to attack. The ogres didn't need the makeshift tree-club weapons they left in the pit—their smart car-sized fists were deadly enough.
Pebbles raised her gnarled tree staff and smashed the bottom of it into the ground. She backed up into the trees, joining two other shadowy outlines. Rocky didn't see or feel anything change, and yet he couldn’t shake off the thought of her retreat. The only reason that made sense was if those were the final three invaders. Rocky sent his clone to track them. He didn’t want to send the clone away—it would weaken his position. Being down one attack option was never good, but he had no choice. He needed to know where Pebbles and her guards were heading.
He might not have his clone, but at least he still had Azoth. He hadn’t seen the chimera attacking ogres during his last scan of the clearing, but he hoped his pet was around and ready to help. He dreaded facing the three remaining ogres and took a step backward, unleashing the coiled-hell in front of him. As if a gunshot for the hundred-meter dash went off, the three ogres flashed forward, each hairy foot boring furrows into the soft earth beneath them.
Hundreds of options raced through his mind. He needed a plan. Fast. And then it hit him. He wasn't sure he liked the idea, but he couldn’t overthink it. Sports had taught him that. He shuffled, then sprinted, and sped toward the opposite edge of the clearing. His days in track and field had trained him not to check how close his opponents were. But that didn’t mean it was easy, and he fought the urge to glance back. The tribal drums still pumped out their haunting cadence, but now heavy feet and guttural growls joined it. The ogres were pursuing him. He hoped his agility and spacing would be enough.
His eyes surveyed the ground in front of him, searching for what he needed. They hit on something about forty meters in front of him, and his stomach lurched, warning him of danger. He adjusted his course. His stomach heaved harder in warning and he leaped into the air, trying to avoid the fusion mine under him.
He soared over the grass, over the mine, and chanced a look back. His heart stuttered—grasping fingers less than a meter behind him.
Bam-Bam ran, hand outstretched and slowed by his calf injury, which were probably the only reasons Rocky wasn’t already dead. The two other lesser ogres closely flanked Bam-Bam, their arms pumping beside them.
Rocky barely made it to this spot before the other three. But he hadn't been quick enough to buy himself the space he needed. A miniature sun bloomed under a minion's ugly, bulbous foot. The air pressure bombarded his Dark Cloak, compressing it before connecting with his back. He shot up diagonally, and a scream ripped from his throat. The heat from the wave of air scorched him, and for a moment, he thought he saw the icon for his passive skill, Stalwart, flare in his interface.
Debris pierced his skin where his compressed Dark Cloak failed to adjust course, and his health dropped precariously. He had no air left in his lungs but managed a squeak as the razor sharp shrapnel cut him. Still airborne, he cast Dark Mend and downed a Health Potion. There was a hard landing in his immediate future.
He bumped into something soft in the air, and talons dug painfully into his left shoulder. The joint burned from being forced to bear Rocky’s full weight. And the puncture wounds from the claws caused his muscles to convulse uncontrollably.
Unable to handle the sudden added weight and projectile force, Azoth retracted his claw, releasing Rocky. The momentum dump allowed his lungs to suck in a stuttering breath of air. His pet now with all of Rocky’s transferred force overcorrected and pinwheeled, hissing as he attempted to correct his flight. Azoth began to attempt a few acrobatic movements just as Rocky lost sight of his pet. He fell.
The ground rushed to meet him. He absorbed as much of the impact as he could in the spring of his knees, then slackened the joints and rolled. Thankfully he came out uninjured and immediately whipped his head, searching the sky for his pet. He winced as Azoth’s wing snapped and the Chimera crash landed with a roar. Rocky scoured the landscape, attempting to locate impending threats.
A cloud of debris and dirt hung in the air where the mine had detonated. He’d never seen anything like it. The debris was encompassed by a strange purple dome that refracted light like a bubble of soap. He wrenched his gaze away, and his eyes flitted over the other battle in the distance. Three blood-lusting ogres were still engaged in combat with the smaller figures of his group. Bam-Bam’s ability must have a powerful effect. How else would the ogres still be alive?
His eyes alighted on Azoth, who was extricating himself from the churned soil.
Rocky didn’t waste a second, and bolted toward the Chimera, casting a Dark Mend. Once he reached his pet's side, Azoth was shaking his massive lion’s head, and his wing lay broken on the grass. Rocky’s Dark Mend coalesced thickly upon the wing, and the bones snapped back into place. He cast another one, just in case, and pulled out his last Health Potion. He unstoppered it and showed it to his pet, but Azoth's head wouldn’t stop shaking.
He recorked it—he couldn’t afford to spill his last health restoring bottle—and kept a comforting hand on his Chimera’s neck as he studied the frozen debris field. Within the debris, two shapes slowly moved away from a small, blinding sun. Outside the field, smoke rose from a third legless shape. He analyzed the creature, confirmed it was dead, and shifted his gaze to study the retreating ogres, suspended in the debris.
Bam-Bam got a foot clear of the backside of the field, and the rest of his body crept out. His second minion followed closely, and as soon as they were out of harm’s way, the bubble sped up, and debris washed over the two ogres. The bubble allowed them to clear the deadly detonation—the ground and air—dissipating the detonation damage.
Rocky tilted his head back and groaned. He’d bet ten crystals that was a time spell Pebbles had used. As the dirt settled, two eyes like hot coals glared at him. Bam-Bam. The ogre moseyed toward a tree to rearm, Rocky took advantage of the further reprieve to examine Azoth.
His pet had stopped thrashing and he uncorked the bottle, tipping the liquid into Azoth’s mouth. The liquid sped up the healing, and Rocky sighed in relief.
Bam-Bam had touched his first tree. Rocky expected him to wrench it out of the ground, but instead, the tree started changing. Bam-Bam walked to a second and third tree, repeating the same motions. Just like the first one, these trees altered their shape.
The tree branches realigned themselves into unique patterns. An empty feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Had Bam-Bam made treants or something similar?
The trees cracked and Rocky protected his ears from the sound. No feet or limbs formed and he sighed in relief. He relaxed too soon. The trees finished rearranging themselves, and Rocky Analyzed them.
Totem of Healing
Master-Totem
Level 23
Health Points 500/ 500
--
Totem of Barkskin
Master-Totem
Level 23
Health Points 500/ 500
--
Totem of Haste
Master-Totem
Level 23
250/ 250
He should have seen that Skill coming. Years of gaming taught him that Shaman classes often had Bloodlust—and the twisted totems were a clear confirmation of a Shaman-like class.
Rocky whispered to Azoth, “We need to take those totems out. If I distract them, do you think you can knock them down?”
The orbs of his pet’s eyes dimmed for a moment and then shone fiercely. Azoth head-butted Rocky and nodded.
“Let's do this, buddy.”
Rocky began charging his sword with a single Dark Blade and turned toward Bam-Bam and the ogre minion. Azoth sprinte
d in the opposite direction of the fight.
Bam-Bam pointed and barked out a laugh at the retreating Chimera. Rocky sneered and spit. That ugly jerk was going to regret laughing at his pet.
Rocky blinked. The ogre strode forward. Each step was invisible, almost like Bam-Bam was walking with a picture shutter capture.
He checked his Ether pool. It was critically low, sitting at a measly twenty-five points of his total two hundred and thirty. With his free hand, he retrieved and chugged one of his last few bottles of Ether Draught. The tingling taste of electrified berries shot over his tongue and down his throat. He dropped the flask into his Bag of Holding before returning his second hand to the hilt of his longsword.
He lunged forward and released a vertical slash with all of his might. The phantasmal shadow blade careened forward, and he charged his sword again.
His first blade sped toward Bam-Bam and he immediately released another phantasmal blade, . stepping forward with his other foot to return his sword on a diagonal path up to above his right shoulder. His second Skill flew at the totems.
The deep grooves, caused by his Skills, ate up ground like a drag car race and seemed to be on a crash course with their targets, when Bam-Bam blurred. One moment, he was standing behind the first slash, and the next, he was in front of it. Rocky stepped back and a second blur shot in front of the totems before the minion clapped its hands onto each side of the second slash.
Alright, note to self Totem of Haste goes down first.
The minion’s hands held his Dark Blade, shedding skin and instantly healing it back. He didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to take them down?
Think, Rocky, think.
Wait. Bam-Bam wasn't coming to attack him. He was fast enough to obliterate Rocky in a half second, but he didn't. Why?
There must be a range on the totems. That’s got to be it, and Azoth is headed right for them. Shoot.
Rocky pushed off the ground and began charging his blade. He didn't release this Skill but held it in the edge, hoping to hit Bam-Bam. The minimal damage to Bam-Bam's calf was still visible, despite the healing Totem. A melee version of his skill was his chance to hurt the grotesque creature—if he got lucky.
Bam-Bam smiled, his rotten, yellow teeth on display, as Rocky began to sprint toward him.
The other minion is still battling with my second Dark Blade. I’ve got their attention. Alright, Chuckles—time for you to pay.
Bam-bam countercharged.
Something niggled at him. Another oddity. Bam-Bam should be reacting faster than before, but he waited a few seconds to start a charge. If Rocky stopped his rush… Bam-Bam would probably do the same, not wanting to exit the ward’s range.
Rocky adjusted his sprint by the smallest margin, slowing down. He hoped he was right.
The boss ogre devoured the space between them, unaware of Rocky’s change in speed.
The ogre tried to slow down as realization dawned, it was too late. Still, all that built-up speed and momentum didn't just vanish. Bam-Bam stumbled and jammed his heel into the earth, skidding and sliding. Rocky bared his teeth. Bam-Bam wasn’t going to stop in time.
As the creature exited the Totem of Haste's field of effect, his arms pinwheeled. His unsteady movements toppled him into a faceplant.
Rocky, a few feet away from his final landing spot, slashed mid-step at Bam-Bam's bald head. A forearm shot up, blocking his blade from reaching the ogre’s cranium. His sword sliced cleanly into Bam-Bam's meaty forearm, leaving behind spreading darkness. Rocky narrowly missed the pudgy head behind the arm. The ogre opened its mouth and roared its putrid breath right in Rocky’s face.
His Ether was critically low again.
Ogre spittle overwhelmed his Dark Cloak, soaking him and making his bile rise. He closed his eyes in disgust and shook his head and arms, dislodging the ogre sludge the way a dog shakes off water. Stepping forward, he positioned his blade to slash the beast again and slipped on a slimy, ogre-sized snot-wad. His calculated lunge turned into awkward splits. Rocky squeaked as a stretch he had never performed, never intended—and never wanted to experience—overwhelmed his pain tolerance.
Adrenaline surged through his body, and he drove his sword toward the roaring Boss.
Bam-Bam’s eyes glinted, and his neck shot out like a snake. His gaping mouth opened wider, and horror gripped Rocky as the cavernous mouth lunged at him.
This is not the way I planned to go.
He had no way of retreating as he continued to slide in ogre mucus toward his toothy-demise.
His front foot connected with Bam-Bam's chin, halting his latest gymnastic move before he did something really painful, like tearing his groin. His front leg was fully extended and he still couldn't use it to retreat.
His back foot had the tiniest bit of power left in his ankle and calf. He made the only decision left to him. Go toward the mouth, and jump in deep enough to get passed the front rotting wall of teeth.
He used his back leg to shove himself, toward the snapping teeth. His front leg gained a bend and coiled as his back foot closed the split posture. He pushed again with his now bent front leg toward the closing mouth. The clack of teeth echoed through the clearing as Bam-Bam's mouth shut, trapping Rocky inside.
He had made it.
In the dark, a kneeling Rocky teetered and staggered as Bam-Bam swung his head side to side. A warm liquid oozed from the mouth’s walls, coating him in head-to-toe ogre juice. The tongue under his knees bucked violently and tossed him around like a kid in a bouncy castle.
The writhing organ gave him a moment's reprieve and he grabbed onto its fleshy sides. He refused to be a snack. The ogre abruptly opened his mouth, flinging his tongue and Rocky forward.
Rocky was ejected from the orifice as quickly as he had been trapped within. He saw the blessed sun.
Hurtling through the air, he thudded onto the grass. The rest of the contents of Bam-Bam's mouth sloshed over him—thick and chunky. He doubled over, clutched his stomach, and retched.
He wiped his mouth as he stood up and looked around. Blood soaked into the grass. Was it his? He patted his arms and legs, probing for a wound.
The sound of a stream of water from a hose startled him. It was a few feet from him, and he jerked his head, searching for the ogre.
Bam-Bam shook uncontrollably and held his head with both hands—blood was streaming from its mouth. Rocky clenched his hand. Wait. Where was his sword? He didn’t remember losing the weapon.
The boss creature slumped to the ground, twitching, which gave Rocky the chance to Analyze him.
Bam-Bam
Master-Yabba-Dabba
Level 23
Health Points 0/ 2450
Boss
Dead
Rocky peeked inside Bam-Bam’s mouth, disgusted at the rot and decay.
I was inside that? Come on! Ever heard of a dentist?
It was further nauseating to acknowledge he had just been in there. And was still covered in blood and mucus. His stomach attempted to revolt again, and he fought it back down.
Rocky peeked further into the ogre’s maw—lodged in the roof of Bam-Bam’s mouth was the familiar hilt of a sword. Rocky would resummon it. There was no way he was going back in there and retrieving it. One ogre mucus shower was enough to last a lifetime.
He scanned the area behind the boss—there should be one final minion guarding the totems. Spotting movement among the trees, he couldn’t help barking out a short laugh as he found Azoth and the final minion played chase. Azoth had the clear advantage, since the minion’s red bloodlust aura had faded. Behind them stood two splintered symbols, and Azoth positioned his little game to score a final blow.
The ogre overextended, and his pet’s quick reflexes juked back, overbalancing the clumsy oaf. A few fast gallops, and Azoth collided, horn nubs first, with the third and final Totem of Healing. A boom followed by long creaks confirmed the Totem's structural damage. The Totem cracked and fractured, surrendering as it fel
l to the ground.
Azoth had more or less one-shotted that Totem. No longer concerned for his pet, he scanned the battlegrounds. Everyone looked at him. Frozen. He held up both mucus soaked hands and mimed a ‘Don't ask, I don’t want to talk about it’ gesture and pointed to Azoth's opponent— the final remaining enemy in the clearing.
If they could down it quickly, they could pursue Pebbles. The group combined their attacks and killed it instantly.
Rocky did his best to clean himself off, even going as far as to put on a new set of under armor. Zippo jumped onto Azoth’s back, and he followed, slightly cleaner. Sela shifted into a raven, while the rest of the group looted the corpses and would catch up later.
The three strings in his interface led directly toward the Grotto. Leaving Gamma and Tao had been a good decision. A true leader’s decision.
The flight cut the distance they needed to travel in half. Rocky looked through the eyes of his clone on multiple occasions, trying to discern what he was seeing. His clone was hiding up in a tree as they approached, watching Pebbles and her two guards.
The three ogres stood at the Grotto’s entrance. Pebbles kneeled with her staff planted, and it slowly sank into the ground. The two guards flanked her and surveyed the horizon for enemies.
He couldn’t decide if they should fly into the Grotto to regroup or to immediately attack the ogres outside of it.
A few minutes of flight brought them over the three ogres. Rocky switched his perception to his own eyes and studied the scene from above. It was still just as strange to see from above as it was from the clone’s perspective.
Tao and Gamma waited on the far side of the pathway into the Grotto, and two military personnel watched the strange ogre’s group from the top of the cliffs.
The head of Pebbles' staff touched the ground, and purple light radiated from it, blinding the onlookers. He cursed and turned away, blinking away the spots that clouded his vision. Azoth faltered, and Rocky patted his shoulder. “It's okay, buddy, just blink away the spots and hover here. Don't panic; they didn't attack us.”