Cheep!? 67 (Patreon)

On the first hit, the brickwork shifted with cracks spider-webbing a meter in every direction from where he’d struck. The second and third hits sent them further out, fissures widened out from mere cracks as chunks of brick clattered away. Niko reeled back for a fourth strike, feeling his heartbeat thundering like the thrum of helicopter blades, his beak thoroughly essence clad, as it flowed within and around his now-flooded pattern. He let essence course throughout the rest of his body, filling in his leg pattern at the same time. With an explosive amount of force, Niko smashed downwards once more while the air shimmered with what almost looked like heat-lines from the sheer amount of essence he was burning.

This time, he crushed through the wall with all the power of an artillery shell, flying bodily through the breach as brick, insulation, and wood exploded outwards with him. He felt reinforcing sigils in the wall fail with the power of the attack. With the ‘Hammertime’ concoction Mithel had made, Niko felt like a living freight train with nitro boosters attached.

“Heeere’s Niko!” The Phorus screeched as he landed in the room, recognizing what looked like neatly piled riches in the form of coins, precious artwork, artifacts that he assumed were worth money, and–

“Face your doom!” Niko barely had the opportunity to digest what his vision was feeding to him when he realized that a thin, reedy man in fine butler-esque clothing and several other people wearing guards uniforms were in the room. Of course, even as he saw them, he was already charging headlong at the thin man. He happened to be closest, staggering away from the explosion of bird that came out of the wall.

A guardsman stepped forward, bringing a buckler to bear instead of trying to attack, interposing himself between the two. Niko tackled him headlong, his beak cracking the shield like an acorn beneath a steel press. The man uttered a cut off cry of shock and pain before flying backwards from the impact, smacking into the other man and sending both of them flying across the floor in a tangled heap of limbs.

The others dropped bags filled with coins, and Niko in his current state of mind couldn’t at all be bothered with what they’d been doing. “Whooo!!! Fight me! Yes!” Niko cackled out a machine-gun retort of noise that was exceedingly loud in this space. The guards winced at the sound, but then moved in quickly with the intent to strike him down.

A woman brought a short sword up, still guarding her center with her own buckler. Niko was about to charge her when another man flanked him, waiting to counter attack him if he did deliver a strike.

“Nope!” Niko crowed scathingly, “You first.”

The man’s eyes opened wide with shock and fear as Niko twisted low, essence surging as he charged under his guard and snatched his ankle with his beak. The man swiped low, but not quickly enough to matter, his strike went wide as Niko pulled back hard and twisted with his entire body. The man screamed in pain and surprise as Niko twisted about and used him to beat the now-approaching woman.

“Hah! Imma beat a motherclucker with another motherclucker!” He said through his beak clenched around an armored leg. With the first swing, he felt bones break in his guard-club’s leg, but also noted that the man had now disarmed himself. On the second swing, the man grabbed onto the woman, who did the same in turn, trying to pull her comrade free.

Then Niko dragged both of them with a pulse of essence and threw them against the far wall. The other two guardsmen paused then, exchanging fearful and doubtful looks with one another. Niko saw that and grinned, a look that most certainly did not bode well for the guardsman. With a deep breath, Niko bellowed at them, a wave of essence rolling out with the cry that was filled with the promise of broken bones and immense pain.

They decided instantly their course of action; with all the power they could muster, they charged–right out the door.

“Niko!? You okay, you’re making a lot of–” Mithel clambered out of the hole and stared at the mayhem, “Wow. Uhh… you okay–”

Niko moved to her in a fluid and hyperactive moment, “Idon’tknowwhatyougavemebutit’sgreeeeaat!”

“N-Niko?” Mithel spluttered as the bird invaded her personal space with a manic gleam in his eye, “Friend, I’m friend, it’s Mithel!”

Niko chirruped happily and hooked his head around her body before she could react with a bird hug, “Yesssssss, I KNOW!”

Mithel froze before haltingly patting him on the back of the neck, “Right. Uhh… The dose is definitely off.”

Skye popped through the doorway with a bemused expression, “Why am I getting weirdness from Niko?”

“Hey, Skye!” Niko ignored her comment, she was awesome, everyone he knew was awesome. The people he didn’t know weren’t, they were enemies, and turning them into paste was just good business.

“Uhh… Mithey, you have anything that undoes whatever it is that he’s on right now?” Skye asked slowly, “Considering we have a lot of people about to be following us into this room that aren’t people he knows.”

Mithel’s brows furrowed at the way she said that, but she nodded, before pulling out a flask. “Hey, Niko, drink this for me, please?”

Niko blinked at the gray looking paste that did not look edible at all. But that was just fine, “Okay!”

He drank the concoction, internally screaming at the taste and consistency of mud sliding down his throat.

A few seconds later, essence roiled in his guts and he felt his mind clear fractionally, “Oh, sweet Alterra what the clu–” He stopped, immediately disengaged from Mithel, and dashed to the corner of the room least cluttered by anything. There was a painting of a heavy set man here, but Niko only hoped it wasn’t some priceless treasure because—

—----------------------

Skye watched Niko dash to the corner of the room and vomit out a complex mixture of grey sludge and rainbow-colored mixture. “It’s really colorful.” Skye commented to Mithel idly.

Her friend shifted awkwardly on one foot, “It wasn’t that colorful going down. He’s really tasting the rainbow, eh?”

Skye raised her eyebrow fractionally at what she assumed was another joke she didn’t get. Mithel snorted to herself instead, before the mirth faltered, “Yeah, uhh… that roid juice was still a prototype. But it seems like it worked well enough?”

The Phorus’ stomach gurgled loudly enough that they could hear it from near the hole in the wall. He screeched bemoaningly before vomiting even more, and this time Skye averted her gaze. “If you say so?”

“Mm… Right, so, what about all of this stuff?” Mithel pointed out all of the valuables in the room.

Before Skye could say anything, though, Ronald and Dachna dropped out of the wall, “Wow,” Whistled Dachna, “That’s some luck. Treasury?”

“Seems so,” Skye nodded, then saw the pair of them look over to Niko and his still-ongoing episode. “The new Hammertime Special is still a prototype.”

Ronald winced as a violently retching Phorus let out another low pitiful whine, “I… don’t think he’ll want to do that again anytime soon.”

“I mean, that’s only because I had to give him the counter-medicine,” Mithel defended her concoction, “It was working perfectly! He even hugged me!”

The others looked at her strangely, and a blushing Mithel quickly stated, “N-not that I think that’s a sign of success, specifically. Just, he didn’t see me as an enemy, so, that’s good!”

“He did see anyone else as an enemy, though,” Skye cleared her throat.

Mithel hummed thoughtfully, “Ah… That’s a problem.”

Skye shook her head as she looked over to Dachna, only to see the man stuffing a discarded pack full of gold and other valuables. “Really?”

“What? We were promised a reward from the Baron, and somehow I doubt that he’s going to be in a giving mood after this.” Dachna said unapologetically before looking over to Ronald, “Besides this is finder’s law or something, right?”

The group looked over to Ronald, only to pause in surprise at the sight of him also shoveling coins into three bags. The big man looked up at them unabashedly, “Totally illegal. This never happened.” He then looked at the stream of people coming into the room behind them, “This room was empty! Nothing at all of value was in here!”

The first people who came in only seemed confused at that, but Phil gave a short ‘Whoop!’ and piled in with a bag of his own, “Severance pay!”

Skye shook her head, but… also scooped up some coinage.

“Thirty seconds, grab what you can, and we leave. Niko, you… you good over there?” Skye called out to the bird, who staggered worrisomely towards the group once more looking like he’d had the mother of all hangovers mixed with a high fever.

“Next time I’m just going to drink poison and get it over with. That was pecking awful, Skye.” Skye heard his words and smiled consolingly at him.

“At least it’s over, right? And, hey, lots of loot for our trouble? Maybe we can pay for a round of Camille’s meals with this?” She said, tone hopeful. So far, Niko responded really well to good food, essence’d up or not.

Sure enough, he perked up at that, “That sounds… good. Do you have any water I can have?”

Skye nodded and wordlessly waterfalled half of her canteen into his gullet. Amusingly, he held his head up and gargled before spitting a stream of tainted mess into the corner at a picture.

Skye snorted, “Did you know that was the Baron’s portrait, or is that a happy accident?”

Niko scanned the painting, now an absolute mess, before nodding, “Happy accident, and slight improvement.”

With a short cackle, Skye moved over to the door with Niko, who, while moving forward, shimmied himself over a pile of coins to fill his front vest pocket. Skye stared at him with open envy at that, “That’s so not fair.”

“Blame yourself for not being born a bird. Besides, you have thumbs, it equals out.” He chortled at her teasingly.

Skye smirked and tied her own sack of loot on her hip, “Fair enough. Let’s check the hall, then.”

Niko strolled up to the doors while Skye glanced backwards at the rest of the room. She watched Tabitha and Phil round everyone up, and also noted that the guards that were in the room were now firmly detained, though none of them were conscious. A man in a black butler’s outfit was among them, and Skye wondered if, perhaps, this was the Baron’s steward. Skye clicked her tongue privately at that, guessing that the Baron must have sent him here. That, or they were trying to fill their own pockets before getting out.

Either way, she felt that the odds the Baron himself was still on the premises to be… unlikely.

“Nothing ye–Oh, shit! Back up!” Niko crowed loudly, and Skye dodged before her brain could even catch up with Niko’s words. An image burned brightly across their thought-bridge, of a man of at least tier two, perhaps tier three, with a gleaming blade of silver.

In the next moment, Skye saw that same blade cut through the wall and doors like butter before silver veins expanded across the surface in a heartbeat. They began to decay right before her eyes, and Skye felt her skin crawl at the sight of it.

“Wyldwalkers!” Skye shouted, knowing that would be enough, “Tier three, accompanied by ten tier two!”

In less than two seconds, Ronald, Dachna, and Mithel flanked them. Ronald looked back to Tabitha, “Protect the civilians, we’ll handle this.”

The woman looked at them with uncertainly, but nodded. Skye knew what she was thinking, that they were outmatched. That was mostly true, but they’d also been put through hell in training with a pair of Champions…

“Sandstorm?” Mithel asked quickly and quietly, to which Ronald nodded to Skye.

Skye took his deference and said, “Bad idea, too much blowback. Hit the blighters with The Blob. Niko, good for making a mess?”

The Phorus cackled in bird-tongue, “Always!”

Mithel nodded before rapidly pulling out several flasks, clenched between knuckles as she poured one, then another, then another still into a separate, wide bottomed container. “One Blob, coming up.”

Skye knelt, nocking four arrows onto her bow with a gentle application of essence. Dachna slipped to Mithel’s side, fetching the other components for The Blob and darting off to the side; they weren’t strictly required, but if anyone on the opposing side managed to evade the initial volley, he could make things very uncomfortable for them. Ronald, on the other hand, stood front and center even as the walls melted away, rot and a putrescent scent filling the room.

A group of guards waited patiently for the silver to do its work, not allowing the doorway to become a choke point. A large man stood with a two-handed greatsword, gleaming with silver light, “I am Captain Androv, by the Baron’s orders, surrender now! If you do not relinquish your weapons, you will be treated as enemies of the city and dealt with accordingly!”

The man's voice boomed, and for a split second, Skye wondered if maybe these men were actually decent guards.

“I exercise my right for local guardsmen of the city to be present for this arrest, as I am not an active threat to those around me.” Ronald called back, “I am willing to wait for Guard Captain Magra to make the arrest and comply with any reasonable request to cease and desist aggression, but will not allow myself to be disarmed until then.”

The balding man stared hard at Ronald for several seconds before letting out a long sigh, “Well, it was worth a shot.”

At that, the man brought up his greatsword and entered a combative stance, “Looks like we’re killing everyone ahead of time, gentlemen!”

Skye grit her teeth at that, and then heard the sounds of battle coming from behind them in the stairwell passage. ‘Yup, that’s gonna have to be left to Tabitha and the others.’

With a wordless battlecry, the guards charged the gap.

And a resplendent pink jug soared through the air to meet them.

Captain Androv’s face changed to confusion at the sight of it, before Mithel detonated the alchemical concoction remotely. Then, amidst the explosion of pink, Niko screeched out his own battlecry, a pair of flasks, one blue and the other green, hanging from his neck with a bit of twine.

Skye had aimed at roughly head level of Androv and several of the guards, letting loose arrows the moment their vision was obscured.

An instant later, she felt essence hit her body from a kill, but she and the rest of the Wyldwalkers were full-up at the peak of tier one.

“Wasteful,” she murmured, “But what can you do?”

Ronald stepped subtly to the front and left of her then, ready to catch any counter attack coming back through, a salvaged buckler strapped to his arm for his purposes. As Niko vanished into the pink, disorienting smoke, Mithel blew both of the other concoctions hanging from his neck.

Suddenly, pink mixed with blue and green before turning into an even denser pink, going from smoke to something more akin to slime that compacted, gelatinizing rapidly while growing tougher. The only thing still moving was a bird-shaped slime that was more green than pink.

“It’s soooo gross! Mithel, why is this one even more like snot!?” Niko’s words nearly broke Skye’s focus as she refrained from laughing at the poor bird.

“J-Just deal with it, Niko!” She failed at keeping the humor from her voice.

Then Ronald stepped forward, his glaive humming with essence as a silver sword cut through slime towards him.

“Cute trick,” Captain Androv muttered angrily as Ronald met the blade head on, the essence sheathing successful in keeping the sword away. “That all you’ve got?”

Dachna picked that moment to speak up, “Got a few more!”

The man looked up just in time for a flask to him in the face, a brown muck splattered wide. Spluttering, the man tried to wipe it off, only for the brown substance to suddenly grab onto the pink and start pulling on the slime. “What the fu–”

Almost instantly, the slime gathered up from his body to his head, covering him with a spherical shape of gunk that absorbed all of the sound he tried to utter like it was trying to be a reverse booger. Skye also noted grimly that breathing for him would be nigh-impossible through the thick layer of not-snot.

“He’s on a timer now,” Ronald said quietly, “I’ll keep him tied down, deal with the others!”

Skye nodded, stepping away just as Ronald began directly parrying and keeping Androv from being able to easily cut through the slime with his blade.

More flasks flew out from both Mithel and Dachna, hitting writhing forms that were not green. Niko himself could move easily, though admittedly the green-mixed slime was disgusting to feel against his feathers.

Still, the guards were far from harmless. After seeing what the concoction did to their Captain, the others managed to clear their faces and did everything they could to avoid the potions. Clumps of pink slime gathered up and wobbled harmlessly, but there was only so much they could do to avoid everything. Dachna couldn’t detonate the flasks, but he’d hit one man below the belt, and Skye watched as said guard’s eyes went cross-ways as the pink slime hardened tightly around his waist. “Sorry!” Was the only thing that Dachna shouted after that one.

Mithel snared two, and having detonated the fluids mid-air, left them almost wholly encased in hardening slime. Skye surveyed all of this, noting that only four tier two’s were left, and with Ronald tying down the tier three, they should be able to deal with things very quickly.

Then Niko cried out, “Reinforcements down the hall! Looks like another ten!”

Skye huffed, “Ten more! Hallway! Dachna, can you take the rest of these guys?”

“Leave it to me!” Dachna nodded.

“I’ll support both sides,” Mithel shouted before moving towards a middle ground, relying on Dachna and Ronald for protection. Skye wasted no more time, dashing over the slime and allowing herself to slide across the surface, pretending she was ice-skating over a really disgusting-feeling slab of not-ice.

‘Ugh… And Niko has this on his face? He’s not going to be happy to have to clean this out of his feathers.’ Skye winced, but focused herself as she pulled forth another smattering of arrows as she and Niko entered the narrower hallway.

“I’ll support you back here, go nuts, Niko!” Skye shouted, and felt Niko’s connection vibrate with enthusiastic acknowledgement.