Grand Game 402: Murder and Mayhem (Patreon)

You have evaded Arcla’s attack.

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you! You are hidden.

Heavy, hobnailed boots skidded past, missing me by only inches. I exhaled noiselessly. That was too close, I thought.

Ghost thought so too, and through the familiar bond, I felt her sudden alarm.

“I’m alright,” I projected, heading her off before she could rush to my rescue. “Continue attacking. That’ll keep them distracted while I heal.”

The pyre wolf wasn’t convinced but didn’t demur. Padding through the gray haze, she stalked her next victim.

“Where is he?” the lizardman warrior demanded abruptly. I couldn’t see him through the smoke, but it sounded like he was nearly atop me.

“What do you mean?” someone shouted from across the room. “He was right there. You should’ve—”

“I missed,” the lizardman hissed. Arcla was his name, I recalled. “One second he was there, the next he vanished.” A pause. “He must’ve teleported out.”

“Don’t be too sure,” the second speaker warned. “The bastard is a sneak, too. He could still be close.”

“Find him!” a third ordered querulously.

Good luck with that, I thought, smiling toothily despite my pain. Even injured as I was, I knew the chances of any of the possessed finding me was minimal. Still, I dared not see to my healing until I put more space between me and the warrior.

“How about you do something about this smoke first?” Arcla retorted sourly. “I can’t see shit in all this—”

Another shriek tore through the hall.

My grin widened. That was Ghost savaging a second victim. Clenching the hilt of ebonheart, I waited to see what the lizardman would do.

Would he continue to search for me?

I had my answer a moment later when Arcla whirled around and rushed toward the source of the cry. I relaxed. Ghost had done well to draw the possessed away from me, but now she would be the focus of their attacks. I would have to hurry. Dragging myself across the floor, I ducked under one of the tables I’d spotted earlier.

It was time to recuperate and get back into the fight.

✵ ✵ ✵

Your familiar has killed Liga Tor.

Your familiar has killed Drusula.

Your familiar has killed Hakin.

Your familiar has killed Neefalar.

You have restored yourself with quick mend. Your health is at 100%.

It took me a few minutes to tend to my wounds.

By that time, Ghost had managed to kill four more spellcasters and, amazingly, had avoided being hit by anything more serious than a glancing blow herself.

Although that was perhaps more on account of the possessed’s wariness of her than anything else. None of them seemed quite sure what she was, and that had made both their warriors and mages hesitate. Admittedly, the pyre wolf made for a fearsome sight. Still, the possessed’s lack of confidence had cost them.

Where they hesitated, Ghost did not. Time and again, she rushed in, bowled down her target and savaged him, then retreated before the enemy could retaliate. It had proven a remarkably successful strategy—for a while anyway.

Eventually, the possessed wised up and concentrated their fire, forcing Ghost to prowl menacingly—but alas impotently—around the edges of the room. The tide had shifted against my familiar.

But now it was time for me to re-enter the game.

My original plan was dust, of course. I’d been hoping to slay the twenty possessed quickly with a combination of mayhem, stealth, and mental trickery. Unfortunately, the fifteen survivors—including Dirk, Hansen, and Jorge—were now alert, armed, and gathered in a close-knit group in the center of the room with their every defense up.

Not every element of my plan had failed, though.

The traps I’d planted around the hatch had served to keep my foes from calling for help. After the hapless Arcla—now limping—had twice triggered the bear clamps, the possessed had retreated en masse from the trapdoor.

Unfortunately, it didn’t look like they intended on staying away forever.

From the shifty glances Hansen and Dirk were casting in the hatch’s direction, I suspected they’d come up with a plan to destroy my defenses and were getting ready to act.

Do they have a thief amongst them? I wondered.

That didn’t seem likely though, otherwise my traps wouldn’t have lasted as long as they had. Still, they intended something. Rising to my haunches, I snuck out from beneath the table.

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you! You are hidden.

The possessed had given up searching for me, but they had managed to dissipate the smoke and light the hall brighter than a meadow under a noonday sun. I remained concealed, but the moment I attacked, I knew I would be revealed.

Hansen’s hand twitched and, in response, four heavily armored possessed advanced toward the hatch. Sliding out from behind the chest at the far end of the room where she’d taken shelter, Ghost moved to intercept them.

“Wait,” I instructed. “Let’s see what they do.”

“Why?” she asked, retreating behind the chest again.

“All huddled together like that they are going to be difficult to take down,” I explained. I could force the possessed to spread out myself—using either charm or terrify—but if they did so on their own, so much the better.

Alas, a moment later, the rest of the possessed followed on the heels of the first four and marched toward the hatch in a double column.

Hmm, not good. I rubbed my chin. Now wh—

“Now what?” Ghost asked brightly, anticipating my next thought.

“What else?” I rejoined, my lips quirking up in a smile. “We wait.” Drawing psi in readiness, I did just that.

The possessed drew closer to the hatch, their weapons pointed outwards, and their eyes scanning the hall—especially the area around the chest where they knew Ghost stalked. My own eyes narrowed, I watched them in turn. Hansen surely didn’t intend on walking the group straight through my traps, did he?

I snorted quietly. I could only hope he would be so foolish.

“Prime, you see that?” Ghost asked abruptly.

“See what?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the possessed column.

“The orc. He’s escaping.”

Huh? Wrenching my gaze away from the possessed, I glanced over my shoulder, and sure enough, saw a bruised and battered orc hunched over and limping toward the room’s main entrance. It wasn’t Lorn, but one of the others who’d been less securely fastened.

The enterprising fellow was using the possessed’s distraction to make his escape. Still, I didn’t rate his chances. In as poor condition as the orc was, he wouldn’t make it past the first guard he encountered, and surely he knew that as well as I did.  I frowned. What then does he think he is doing?

The tread of marching footsteps came to a stop.

Dismissing the orc from my mind—dealing with him would have to wait until later—I turned back to the possessed. Hansen had brought the column to a halt five yards from the hatch, a safe—if barely so—distance from the nearest trap.

“Now,” Hansen barked.

In response, one of the possessed waved his arms.

Urog has cast Aziman’s dust of revelation.

Lazy streams of luminescent dust wafted from the mages’ hands and toward the hatch. After hovering midair for a second, the glowing specks descended, settling around each of the traps I’d so painstakingly seeded earlier.

Ah, so that is what they are about.

Smiling victoriously, Hansen pointed at the closest trap. “Destroy that!” he crowed. Obediently, Urog lowered his wand and fired.

A hostile entity has triggered a trap!

As the mage’s fire dart struck the trap, a bear clamp—the trap element in this instance—materialized and snapped closed, its jagged metal teeth closing on nothing but empty air.

A bear clamp has been activated. No target found.

My lips turned down sourly, knowing what was coming next.

“Excellent!” Hansen exclaimed, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Now the next.”

A hostile entity has triggered a trap!

A hostile entity has triggered a trap!

…

My expression growing progressively more unhappy, I watched my traps being destroyed. But still, I didn’t act. The time was not yet right.

My gaze darting left to right, I scanned the surroundings anew, mapping obstacles and potential cover. Whether by happenstance or not, the immediate area around the hatch was devoid of torture devices—leaving me with few options for cover.

But it also meant there were no innocent prisoners nearby, which suited me just fine. Removing a handful of vials from my belt, I calculated trajectories.

“Prime, why are we doing nothing?” Ghost cried. “We should attack!”

“Not yet,” I replied, tight lipped.

“But they are destroying your traps,” she growled.

“I know,” I replied grimly.

Another bear clamp was destroyed—that made six—then another. And another. I bit my lip. Maybe Ghost has the right of it. Maybe I should—

A hostile entity has triggered a trap! A blot of darkness trap has been activated.

Ebon clouds mushroomed out to swallow the leading quarter of the possessed column in darkness. I jerked erect. It was what I’d been waiting for. Finally, the possessed had triggered the wrong trap—or the right one from my perspective.

Winding back my arm, I flung forward the vials I’d been holding ready.

You have ignited 2 acid bombs and 2 firebombs!

The resulting conflagration was predictably apocalyptic—if contained. Drenched in acid and fire, warriors screamed while the mages, safe behind their shields, chanted furiously, no doubt casting spells to douse the flames.

No one died. But more than one grievous injury was sustained, and just as importantly, the protective shields of the spellcasters dulled and weakened, and some were even destroyed altogether.

Hansen and Dirk staggered out of the cloud of darkness, their faces stunned as they beheld the chaos behind them. Not wanting to injure the possessed healer, I’d been careful to target the rear of their column with my bombs.

Hansen’s mouth opened, but before he could issue whatever command he intended, I released the psicasting I’d prepared.

You have cast slaysight.

Between one heartbeat and the next, tendrils of my will bathed the entire possessed column and psi surged into the minds of six random targets.

You have terrified 4 of 6 targets for 40 seconds.

You have failed to terrify 2 of 6 targets. Note, targets protected by a mage shield are immune to mental manipulation.

The spell succeeded, inciting the fear centers of four possessed to a fever pitch. Their eyes bulging and their chest heaving, the afflicted possessed shrieked and burst into motion—adding to the already considerable mayhem in the enemy’s formation.

I wasn’t done yet though. Drawing more psi, I wove a second spell.

“Stop running, you fools!” Hansen yelled. Reaching out, he attempted to grab one of the fleeing warriors, but the man evaded his grasp. “Stand your ground and fight, dammit!”

Predictably, he was ignored.

“It’s that player,” Dirk shouted. “He did this!” Which was obvious enough but did nothing to restore order.

“Spread out and find him!” Hansen barked.

It was too late for that, though. My spell was ready, and without hesitation, I released it into the enemy’s midst.

You have cast mass charm.

You have charmed 4 of 10 targets for 20 seconds.

You have failed to charm 6 of 10 targets. Note, targets protected by a mage shield are immune to mental manipulation.

I smiled grimly. My two spells had bespelled just over half of the remaining possessed—fewer than I liked, but still enough for what I intended next. Drawing my blades, I rose to my feet.

“Let’s finish this, Ghost,” I said and blinked into battle.