Dueling Dungeons (Rogue Dungeon 5) - Chapter Twelve (Patreon)

First Engagement

The Vault of the Radiant Shield had gotten its name, Roark assumed, because no matter the time of day, it gleamed like a lit golden lantern. Even now, in the dark of the night, the hivelike structure shone atop its rock chimney as if it were a golden sun stuck there to light the way through the red canyons.

The Vault was easily one of the worst Dungeons in Hearthworld to assail. Never in the dark, high off the ground, filled with flying creatures… The only viable approaches were through the holes cut into the side of the hive or up the thin spiraling path around the rock chimney the structure was perched upon. Without a powerful Shroud or a potent distraction, the approach up the narrow path was suicide, and if you made it into the Vault alive, the danger had only begun.

“Thisss isss taking forever,” hissed Shesss, the former Naga Queen turned Soaring Serpent Monarch. She stretched her transmuted wings impatiently, slitted eyes locked on the glowing Vault.

“Truth,” Rohibim the Deceiver, Dungeon Lord of the Djinni muttered, his smoky body levitating above the red dirt. “How much longer until we attack?”

“Any moment now,” Roark said, trying not to betray his own impatience.

That is an estimation, Ko the Faceless said in Roark’s head. From the reactions of the other winged troops, it had been sent to all of them. It could be hours from now. The Griefer is waiting for a signal. When the signal comes, we shall attack.

Roark couldn’t tell from the Pestilent Mind Scythe’s toneless communication whether she was as annoyed with the waiting as the other winged Dungeon Lords or defending his refusal to launch an attack without confirmation from PwnrBwner that Lowen and his troops had arrived in the Other World.

Roark stared out over the darkened landscape surrounding the Vault. This interminable wait would’ve been much less tedious if he were with Zyra, Kaz, and Griff, but his friends were scattered throughout the land around the Vault, marshalling the allied forces hidden in the surrounding canyons and draws, all awaiting his sign to attack.

Even Mac had somehow become the leader of a small group of Dungeon creatures and had disappeared with an authoritative chirp at his new troops when the allied forces began mobilizing.

Roark searched the darkened sky for signs of Heralds flying overhead. In the night, the golden-skinned chimeras left behind sparkling streaks which gave away their position. This night, however, none were coming or going from the Vault.

A sudden blinking light in the lower corner of Roark’s vision caught his attention. He flipped open his Grimoire to PwnrBwner’s message.

We got incoming Heralds. Buttloads. It’s on like Donkey Kong.

Roark snapped off an affirmative reply, then closed out of his Grimoire, palming a Cursed Head in one hand and readying a newly evolved version of Necrotizing Infernal Torment with the other. Purple and green flames danced in his palm.

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Necrotizing Infernal Torment

Ranged Attack Spell

Range: 120 feet

Casting Time: Instant

Casting Cost: 6% Base Magicka

Necrotizing Infernal Torment burns target from the inside out with Infernal flame, inflicting 12 Infernal Damage x character level per second and 12 Necrotic Damage x character level per second on target for 60 seconds or as long as caster maintains eye contact.

Note: Infernal Torment disrupts concentration-based spells.

Note: Divine creatures are invulnerable to Infernal spells.

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He turned back to the flying Dungeon Lords.

“It’s time,” he said.

Each of them readied their own magickal and ranged attacks. When they were ready to go, Roark broke into a jog, leathery wings outstretched. A powerful updraft hit him as he leapt off the cliff face, lifting him high into the night. Within moments, the sky around him was filled with Dungeon Lords, their armor creaking and clinking, wings beating at the air—all accompanied by the occasional bad-tempered snarl at one another. Used to being the strongest mobs in their respective homes, the Dungeon Lords’ noise discipline was almost nonexistent, but at least they didn’t glow like the Heralds in low light. It wasn’t much, but still Roark was thankful for that small measure of stealth.

Tilting his wings a touch, Roark banked toward the brilliant walls of the Vault. On one of the landing portholes, he caught sight of a sentry. His heart stopped for a moment before realizing the sentry was scanning the ground, not the sky, watching the most likely avenue of approach.

Time to distract him from carrying out his job.

Roark folded his wings, diving like a canahiri falcon, and launched the first of his Cursed Heads. The sentry never saw him coming nor the makeshift bomb arcing toward him through the air. The head exploded with a flash of sickly green Corpse Mould.

Though the Divine Heralds were weakest to Undead magick, the blast shaved off only a tiny fraction of the sentry’s red Health bar. All around, the other Dungeon Lords were attacking with similar results. The Heralds’ levels were so high that to kill one would take forever.

The sentry leapt into the air, soaring toward Roark, massive Cutlass glinting with what was no doubt a Divine Enchantment.

Concentrating on maintaining eye contact, Roark cast Necrotic Infernal Torment on the sentry. Green and purple flames erupted from the man’s flesh and crawled out of his armor. The red in his Health bar crept down another degree.

Rather than slow or turn back, however, the Herald raised his free hand and fired an Angelic Lance at Roark’s heart.

Maintaining eye contact to keep up Torment, Roark pulled free his newly forged rapier.

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Peerless Cold-Forged Rapier of Dancing Death

One-Handed Damage: 51 - 59

Durability: 89 of 89

Level Requirement: 37

Dexterity Requirement: 60

Blade Class Weapon – Fast Attack Speed

Equipping this item casts Discordant Inversion and Deflection; Spell Definition: Divine; Cooldown: 1 hours

+ 9 Necrotic Damage (Enchanted)

+ 25% Movement Speed (Enchanted)

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Rather than impaling Roark, the Angelic Lance was consumed by a glowing web of Discordant Inversion. Immediately, the brilliant white bolt turned a bloody crimson and reversed course, firing back toward the Herald. The crimson Lance shot through his chest, tearing a ragged hole in his armor and knocking him backward.

That took a much more respectable chunk out of his Health—though the attack failed to end the Herald. The sentry flailed his wings wildly, catching himself before he fell. He raised a hand to cast another Divine spell, but Roark saw his face change as he thought better of it. The Discordant Inversion spell couldn’t be recast from the rapier for nearly another hour—a tiny set of filigreed numbers sat counting down in the corner of Roark’s vision—but the sentry didn’t know that. Sometimes a good bluff worked as well as a powerful weapon.

With an angry shout, the Herald cocked back his Cutlass and shot toward Roark, leaving a shimmering streak in his wake.

Roark grinned at the gesture. He’d forged enough of the heavy-bladed Cutlasses while leveling up his smithing to know that their attack speed was far too slow to compete with any rapier, let alone one enchanted with Movement bonuses.

Roark slammed into the sentry midair, unfortunately dropping Necrotizing Infernal Torment. His rapier sparked as he deflected the Cutlass’s heavy blow with ease. Before the man could recover, Roark twisted his wrist dal poso, slicing a thin line in the Herald’s inner forearm where his bracer didn’t cover. Another sliver of Health drained away with the Necrotic damage.

Roark pressed his advantage, climbing a few feet higher, then plunging as he pulled his body out of line, his blade scoring a direct hit in the sentry’s vitals.

The air around the Vault rang with the clash of weapons and flashed with colorful spells as more of the glowing Heralds streaked out to defend their lair. Roark couldn’t spare a glance for the ground—both because it might give away their true intent and because the sentry he was fighting had just traded his Cutlass for a slightly faster Falarica with a burning tip—but the second wave of troops should be nearly in position.

The sentry charged him with reckless abandoned—an untrained fool, even if a powerful one—thrusting the flaming tip of the Falarica at Roark’s chest. Roark waited until the last moment, then batted the spear aside with his scale-plated forearm. With the added reach of the long weapon, the Herald was still just beyond Roark’s measure. The sentry was, however, suddenly wide open for an attack Roark hadn’t had a chance to test yet.

Filling his lungs, Roark triggered Infernal Necrotic Breath. A blazing furnace raged in his chest, waves of heat distortion radiating in the air around him. Opening his mouth, he unleashed a gout of emerald and amethyst flame on the Herald.

The sentry threw up a Divine Shield, but the Undead half of the attack sheared through it as if it weren’t even there. Emerald flames raced across his body, corroding the metallic golden flesh, and chewing away at his Health like a hungry craig badger. His feathers melted and stuck together. The sentry screamed as he wheeled through the air, trying to land in one of the holes pock marking the stone ovoid’s face.

Just before the Herald landed, Roark pulled another Cursed Head and launched it after the man. The head detonated against the sentry’s back with a blast of green light, peppering him with Cursed Bone Shards. His Health bar flashed out a critical warning as the last of the red drained away. He slammed into the side of the hive and tumbled through the air, dead.

Unfortunately, Roark realized as he looked around, his fellow Dungeon Lords were having far less luck with their Herald opponents. Ishri in his newly evolved Bloodswarm Leech form and the Soaring Serpent Queen Shess had already been sent for Respawn, and the horde of golden-skinned Heralds were close to taking out Rohibim and Ko. Damn it all to the seven hells.

Roark banked sharply, swooping toward the smoky Djinn. With a thrust, he plunged his rapier through the back of the closest Herald. The other he assaulted with a burst of Infernal Necrotic Flame. Neither died outright. The burning one turned on Roark, throwing a fistful of Heavenly Wrath.

The white light streaked toward Roark, Discordant Inversion cooldown still ticking away in the corner of his vision. Roark pulled his body out of line to avoid the spell, but it glanced off his scale-plated stomach.

Searing pain burned through the black scales and down to the bone—but the red in Roark’s filigreed Health vial only dipped a fraction of what it would have before his Transmutation.

With renewed resolution, he lunged at the flaming Herald. They battled back and forth through the air. Roark hated to admit it, but even with his new levels, he was only fast enough to keep up with this Herald because of the Movement Bonus on his rapier. A slowing spell might give him the advantage, but he’d have to trade his rapier for the Initiate’s Spellbook to inscribe it, and that would make him vulnerable in the meantime.

Worse, from below, he heard the clash and shout of an army being routed. A glance down revealed Heralds swooping across the narrow path up the rock spire, bowling over large groups of allied forces at once, and attacks knocking several more over the edge to their death.

This wasn’t going to work. Even with the distraction, this bloody offensive was proving as suicidal as waltzing up to a murderhole and asking for a cup of brandy. He might be able to take out a single Herald or two at a time—a marked improvement to be sure—but he couldn’t take the entire Vault down on his own, even with most of their forces away.

“Bloody hells,” he growled. There was nothing for it but to lay siege to the Vault until they came up with a more effective attack. Roark searched the sky for the remaining Dungeon Lords. “Call a retreat! Rally your troops and form a cordon around the Vault!”

Affirmative shouts answered him, and Dungeon Lords streaked off to sound the retreat.

As Roark turned to go, agony shot through his shoulder, dragging his attention back to the fight at hand. An Angelic Lance. With another gout of Dragon’s breath, he sent the Herald reeling, then followed, delivering precise and brutal mandritto and riverso tondos.Quickly, the Herald’s flailing became useless and he dropped from the sky, the last of his Health bar draining away. But already another was darting at him. Roark triggered Hex Aura with a thought, then launched a Cursed Head at the Herald. It detonated, sending the incoming threat cartwheeling through the air.

Roark took advantage of the momentary reprieve. He folded his wings and plunged toward the Heralds attacking the allied troops below to buy his side time to retreat.