“Good. That will be the first place we hit, then,” Renny said, rummaging around in one of the nearby boxes, and pulling out a hammer and chisel. “Shall we get a move on?”
“Let’s,” Chase said, still unsettled. She swept the cards back into her case, and took the hammer and chisel back from Renny. “We know where we’re going and what we’re doing. It’s time to go unleash our Wizaard.”
Twelve minutes later, all hell broke loose.
Chase had been hoping for a silent alarm.
Something that maybe just notified the Enchanter who’d made the chains, a spell that would tell him, and only him, that they’d been broken. Then he would have had to go alert someone else, and that would give Chase and her team precious seconds to work with.
A silent alarm would have been nice.
But no, the second the chisel cut through the chains, a great whooping siren filled the air, rising and falling, filling the prison with noise. Shouts from afar, and Chase grimaced as she brought the hammer down one last time. “There!” she said, as the links fell away, and the Wizaard twisted, sloughing metal off as he struggled.
“They’re coming!” Renny said, peering out the doorway. “They haven’t noticed the illusion yet.”
Chase watched through the wispy mantle of the illusion as guards approached at a run. The illusion they’d settled on was a simple one... those were the most effective and believable kind.
So when the guards ran up and peered through the open door, they saw what they were most afraid of: an empty cell, with broken chains littering the floor.
Completely failing to see or hear the grunting, squirming Wizaard who was actually there, they turned and yelled back down the hall, charging off into the distance. They had their plans to follow, for such an eventuality.
That was good and bad, but it gave Chase and the rest a moment’s grace... a moment that Bastien used to shake loose of the rest of the chains. “Ah! Ouch. Goodness. They put them on a little tight; I’m all pins and needles.”
“We’re going to need Cagna,” Chase reminded him. “Please hurry, there’s no time to lose!”
“Of course! Call Outfit.”
Then he blinked. “Oh dear.”
“Oh dear?” Chase asked, staring at him. Call Outfit was supposed to instantly change his clothing to an outfit of his choice. In this case, it would have been a cleverly-sewn jacket with a huge backpack that Cagna would currently be sitting in. It was their clever way of getting Cagna into the prison.
Except that maybe it wasn’t clever enough, because the skill had just failed.
“The words are telling me that my skill failed due to intervening magic,” The Muscle Wizaard said, rubbing the back of his head with one meaty mitt. “Something about a teleportation ward.”
“Oh, that makes sense!” Renny piped up. “They’re imprisoning powerful people with magical stuff and skills. They’d want to stop stuff like waystones getting through that.”
“Wait, didn’t you use waystones to get to Pandora?” Chase frowned.
“No, we teleported next to it. Nobody used any waystones inside the prison itself.”
“One good thing,” said The Muscle Wizaard, “this means that they won’t have more reinforcements coming in either.”
“But we’re down Cagna.” Chase rubbed her face. “Not good. Okay, this doesn’t change the plan. We need to go get a look at the mystery prisoner.”
“Hold on!” Bastien said, blinking shortsightedly. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You know the old saying, ‘Better the dragon you know.’ and all that?”
“I know, I know. But the cards...” Chase shook her head. “We’re wasting time. They won’t be guarding him as well. Let’s go!”
“I just leveled up, by the way!” Renny said. “Plenty of sanity for illusions!”
It was harder to sneak through this time. The guards were active and moving, and The Muscle Wizaard was not a stealthy person.
At some point the siren cut out, and that was worse. That meant that the enemy had found no trace of their escapee, and had shifted patterns. Time was running out...
On the upside, Chase knew where the traps were, now.
At last they stood in front of the easternmost cell, peering around the corner, safely ensconced behind one of Renny’s Phantasmal Pictures. Nothing fancy, just a view of an empty corridor.
There were six guards, all told. Chase recognized Matteo, and felt a twinge of guilt.
“They’re between us and the door, though,” she muttered, half to her group and half to herself. “Do we really have any choice?”
“Sure. We could go and surrender. And spend the rest of our lives locked up forever,” Renny said. “Or I could hit them with barf gas, and we could send in Bastien to mop up.”
“Hang on. Something’s niggling about in the back of my head. Six... why are there six?” Chase frowned. Then it hit her. “The party limit is seven! They’re in a party, and the seventh one is somewhere where they can alert reinforcements if he notices his friends fighting!”
INT+1
“So once we finish them, it isn’t over,” said the Muscle Wizaard.
“No. They’ll know where we are,” Renny mourned. “It’ll be downhill from there. If only we had Cagna.”
Chase put her hand on his head, skritched between his plush ears. “Don’t despair. Whoever’s in the cell is a prisoner for a reason. Remember, this is a player. They’re powerful; they’re chaotic, and they’re trouble. Once we let them out, the guards will have far more to worry about than us. And that’ll buy us the time to get to the others.”
“All right...” Renny said. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Mostly,” Chase admitted. “Twenty percent or so. I’m open to better ideas.”
They didn’t have any.
“All right, let’s do this!” The Muscle Wizaard slapped his thigh, and stood up from his squat. “Flex. Strong Pose. Let My Muscles do the Talking!” His body bulged as even more muscles popped out of his toned frame, and the massive Wrestler readied to charge.
For his part, Renny pointed down the hall. “Phantasm! That Je Ne Sais Quois!”
Half the guards doubled over, while the others gagged and grabbed at their noses...
...and when they looked up, blinking, The Muscle Wizaard was there.
Chase watched, ready with her throwing cards if anything came up that he couldn’t handle. She needn’t have bothered. The Wizaard specialized in fighting gangs, in battling groups. He was a master at taking down foes at close range, and as one tried to squeeze behind him he spread his arms wide and roared “Signature Move! You Shall Not Pass!”
And somehow the guard couldn’t.
Once The Muscle Wizaard’s specialty was activated, the skill prevented all but the most determined or slippery foes from going around him.
At that point it became a matter of attrition. The guards hauled out their shortswords and got to stabbing and hacking in the tight confines of the corridor. That was trouble, because The Muscle Wizaard had no armor at all
Fortunately, he wasn’t alone. And while Chase couldn’t throw past him for fear of causing friendly fire, that wasn’t her main role anyway.
“Lesser Healing!” she called out, as a nasty swipe took off part of his cheek.
You have healed Bastien for 40 points!
His face knitted back together and he didn’t hesitate, dropping both hands down in an overhead slam that put the guard to the floor. Another one took advantage of his all-or-nothing style to impale him through the gut.
“Lesser Healing!” Chase commanded again, and again, more of her sanity fled as the spray of blood turned into a trickle.
You have healed Bastien for 40 points!
Your Lesser Healing skill is now level 45!
All told, it couldn’t have taken more than a minute, perhaps two. The guards lay on the ground, groaning, and Chase hurried forward with the keys. Remembering the traps on the last lock, she used
her Foresight, trying key after key in visions and watching herself die over and over again. Once, twice, thrice...
The fourth one did the trick, and the cell opened. She held her breath as it did so, and Renny and The Muscle Wizaard moved up next to her.
“Foresight,” Chase said one last time, and watched her ghostly self open the door.
And what she saw made her jaw drop.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she whispered, as the vision faded.
“What?” Renny asked. “Is it safe?”
Wordlessly, obeying the compulsion and dispelling the rising pain in her chest, Chase pushed the door open.
And in the well-lit, comfortable cell, a black and white bear-man wearing comfy robes looked up from the bamboo shoot he was gnawing on and smiled brightly. “Knee how!”
Silence fell, as the three friends considered him.
The bear-man pulled out a pair of spectacles and considered them back. Then his gaze went past them, and he jumped up in horror, pointing at the fallen guards. He shouted a long string of gibberish and waved his hands in the air.
Hands, not paws, Chase noted absently. He was a beastkin, much like Cagna. But that didn’t matter now. “Look, you’re a player, right?” she asked. “A player? Can you fight?”
More gibberish, and now he was stepping back, looking alarmed.
“No time for that!” said The Muscle Wizaard. He darted forward, and grabbed the bear-man by one arm, dragging him along. “If you can’t fight, you’d best come with us!”
“Oh gods,” whispered Chase. From down the hallway she could hear running feet. Running feet and the rattling of heavy armor. The guards knew where they were now, and were coming in fast. “Run! To the northern cells, quickly!”
“Chase, are you sure?”
“No!”
They ran anyway, and as they did, the bear-man clung to Bastien’s arm for dear life.
“Hey, you,” Chase said, feeling winded. “We’re going into trouble! Do exactly as we say, okay?”
He looked at her and nodded. “Oh kay!”
“Good, you do speak sometimes; that’s good,” Chase panted. “Do you have a name?”
The bear-man nodded, and thumped his chest. “Yubai! Yubai Gold!”
CHAPTER 3: THE DRAGON YOU KNOW
The card flashed silver as it flew, end over end. The King on it whirled, eternally plunging his sword into his head, regal face expressing a solemn smile and total acceptance of his fate.
It hit the charging guard’s breastplate and glanced off and away, as a red ‘34’ flashed to life above the man’s head. He didn’t break stride...
...but The Muscle Wizaard snapped an arm out and caught him by the neck. The guard’s upper half stopped as momentum snapped his lower torso and legs out and with perfect grace the Wrestler slammed him to the ground. A red ‘168’ flashed up, and the guard stopped moving.
He looked dead. He wasn’t. That was the secret of the Muscle Wizaard’s Wrestler job. He actually inflicted stamina damage, which was normally yellow. Stamina damage could knock you unconscious, at worst. It took the red stuff to kill you. The Muscle Wizaard’s Kayfabe skill made it look like red numbers were popping up, but they were really yellow.
It was a simple trick once you knew it. But if you didn’t, then the results were a bit terrifying. Which explained why the next wave of guards were hesitating.
“Rapid Fire, Ricochet Shot, Demoralizing Shot!” Chase shouted and threw a handful of cards down the hallway.
In midair they multiplied, the effect of her skill causing them to duplicate twice over, bouncing off each other and the walls, metal edges singing and scraping as they ricocheted off everyone and everything in sight.
In these relatively tight quarters, it was impossible to dodge.
But thanks to Chase activating her Demoralizing shot skill, the numbers weren’t the red of bloody HP damage.
They were green. Green for moxie damage. Cards that should have cut through clothing and flesh instead grazed ears, sang off weapons with disturbing accuracy, or whizzed by their target’s eyes so closely that they were reminded of their mortality.
Moxie fueled courage, let one withstand fear. Without it, what could a man do?
A third of the guards broke and fled. Another third tried to stop them.
Your Ricochet Shot skill is now level 21!
Your Demoralizing Shot skill is now level 6!
Only one third lifted shields, as an officer in front bellowed “She’s out! She can’t do that again! Rally Troops!”
The guards remaining straightened, their moxie returning...
And Chase smiled, holding up her empty hands. “Hold’em.”
With a silvery flash, Enrico’s last hand filled her grasp once more. She fanned the cards, smiling. “Round two? I’ll lead!”
They fled then, and the officer followed. He couldn’t stop them and he knew his odds of standing alone.
But... they’d be back.
From around the corner, crossbowmen leaned in, and Chase heard one of them yell “Rapid Fire!”
“Manipulate Air!” Renny shouted back, and the dozen or so crossbow bolts that should have ripped through the infiltrators twisted, and clattered off the floor and walls. “I’ve got this, but I won’t be much good for anything else!”
Chase nodded. “Bastien, be ready if they charge! You...” she spared Yubai a look, and found him huddled on the ground in abject terror, trying to cover himself with a shield that one of the guards had dropped earlier. “You just survive, okay? I’m sorry we dragged you into this.”
She still found it hard to believe this was a player. Every one that she’d met up to this point had been a terror in combat, deadly and inscrutable and decisive. This guy? Not so much.
But perhaps that was why the guards here were so low-level. Perhaps that was why security had been, honestly, a bit light.
“Chase!” The Muscle Wizaard called. “Do your thing if you’re going to do it!”
Another crossbow sang, and another bolt flittered away. Chase winced. She had spent a good chunk of fortune in the running battle to get here, stumbling on the Ricochet Shot and Demoralizing Shot combination accidentally. But the combo, effective as it was, ate up a good chunk of fortune every time she used it. She was about halfway down, and the guards were smart enough to keep firing at them, even though it wasn’t doing much. It was keeping them in combat, and you couldn’t level while you were involved in a fight.
Low on fortune... but fortune was what was required here. Chase squared her shoulders, moved up to the door, and pulled out her key ring. “Foresight,” she whispered, and began the cycle.
And to her horror, none of them worked.
Every one triggered the trap.
With only a few fortune left to her name, staring at the door, Chase felt the pain grow and break inside her chest and fell to her knees as paradox lashed her.
Major divergence detected! Feedback generated!
Foresight inaccessible for 23:59 minutes and 52 seconds.
Then the pain was gone, leaving behind a dull ache and a hollow foreboding. “They didn’t intend to open this door,” she said, realizing the problem. “Or the Camerlengo’s got the only key, or something like that. There’s no way through.”
Renny and The Muscle Wizaard shared a look.
“We could break it down?” The Muscle Wizaard offered.
“No! No.” Chase shook her head. “It’s an explosive trap. It’d turn us to pesto.”
“Well we can’t stay here!” Renny said, as another volley of bolts clattered away. One sang past, taking his ear off. “Oops!” He patted his head, annoyed. “That cost some stuffing. Stupid critical hits.”
Chase sighed. “I don’t know what to do. It can’t end here. We’ve come so far.”
And something tugged at her sleeve. She looked over to see the bear man staring at her, eyes glittering, contrasting against the black patches of fur that surrounded his eyesockets. Hesi
tantly, he pointed at the chisel that she’d tucked into her belt.
“What? You want this? Sure, okay.”
He wanted the hammer as well. So she gave him that, bemused. Then, as he faced the wall and put the chisel against it, she realized what he was doing. “You... don’t tell me you’re...”
Yubai grinned and started banging on the chisel. And thirty seconds later, the wall disappeared, falling into neatly stacked blocks of stone.
“You’re a Miner!” Chase burst out laughing. “Yes! Yes, perfect!”
After the second chunk of wall vanished, the guards realized what was happening. The guards redoubled their shots, but Bastien stacked the stone into a barricade effortlessly, and once Renny could focus his aerial barrier on the space above their shots were useless.
When Yubai crafted away the stone next to the door, Chase heard the officer rallying his forces for another charge. But the bolts had slackened, giving Renny time to switch tactics.
“Summon Minor Elemental!” he cried, and a swirling human-sized tornado formed and sped around the corner with a roar.
And then the bearman was through, waving a weirdly-fingered paw at them frantically. When they started through, he erupted into a barrage of gibberish, pointing at the blocks that were the barricade.
“I think he wants you to bring them along,” Renny said, after a second.
“Right!” Bastien said, grabbing as many as he could carry. That was a lot and it took some time, so Chase ran through the gap, into the cell while they were sorting it out.
They had their tasks, and she had hers. And without Foresight, she knew she was operating without a safety net. This would be difficult.
It was dark in the cell, eerily silent inside, save for steady breathing. The only light filtered in from the hall outside. And the air was filled with stink. Chase gagged, then put her sleeve against her nose.
“If you just came here to dab, I have to tell you I’ve seen better on Fooltube,” a voice rumbled from the shadows.
“Dijornos,” she whispered. “Looks like the cards were right.”
Chains rattled, and a harsh laughter echoed from the walls.
Well Done Page 3