Dreamer's Throne

Book 3: Chapter 21

Each movement of the newly reanimated bones sent puffs of black mist into the air, causing the maragoth to look like it was shrouded in a shifting shadow. As its roar faded, it began to move. Each stomping foot cracked the stone of the courtyard under its feet. Its massive talons raked across the ground, digging into the stone, and the spines on its back flexed and swayed, standing straight up like the quills of a porcupine. Almost two hundred feet long, from its nose to the end of its whipping, barbed tail, the maragoth looked like a creature right out of a nightmare, and when it lifted its head to look around, the spikes on its skull rose above the nearby buildings.

Every single joint seemed to have sharp blades extending out of it and they rattled as it moved this way and that. It was shaped like Godzilla, though with much longer front arms and eminently more spikes, and in life, it had been covered in thick muscle and sinew. Now, necromantic energies replaced its skin and muscles, coating its bones with shifting shadow. In its eyes burned fierce green flames, causing an eerie glow wherever it turned its giant head, as if it was trying to get its bearings.

After looking around, it froze for a moment as if listening to something, and then turned its gaze to the southeast. Still in control of Isabelle, Garrett could see that it was looking directly towards the inn, and he couldn't keep his heart from clenching in fear. The maragoth was no simple shaper-level beast. Though its power didn't seem to stretch quite into the manifesting stage, it was awfully close, and Garrett had a sinking feeling that even throwing half a dozen shapers against it wouldn't produce much result. His mind went into overdrive as the massive monster crouched and leapt forward. Its body barely fit in the street it was charging down, and its spikes raked through the stone and wood of the buildings on either side of the street, tearing them apart as if they were paper.

Garrett wasn't the only one staring at the maragoth. Arthur Tellson and Paskal of the Brass Tiger Syndicate had both climbed up to the roof of a building, even as the fight began to rage once more below them.

"Is that what I think it is?" Paskal asked, his face growing pale under his bronze skin.

"As much as I'd like to deny it, yes, I think it is," Tellson responded, his tone grim. "Our plan might have to wait."

Both men were at a bit of a loss. Never in a million years had either of them imagined the Adventurers Guild's prize trophy coming to life and beginning to rampage through the city. But there it was, picking up speed as it smashed its way through the city straight towards them. Tellson seemed to come to a quick decision, and as soon as he turned to look at Paskal, the gang leader knew exactly what was going to come next.

"Hold as best you can," the guild leader said, producing a small whistle from his coat.

As he blew into it, the Adventurers, who were scattered below, stiffened and quickly began to retreat. Paskal's forces hadn't been ready, and with a furious glare at Arthur Tellson, Paskal jumped down from the building, roaring for his men to advance.

"Get yourselves together! Move! Get into position! Block the enemy!"

Paskal led the charge himself, trying to buy a few more seconds for the members of his gang to reform their battle line as the Adventurers hurriedly retreated. Still standing on top of the roof, Tellson licked his lips nervously. The giant creature was only a few minutes from reaching their position, and as much as he wanted to abandon the fight, Tellson knew he couldn't. They were the ones who had brought the maragoth corpse into the city, and once the creature had been defeated, it was the Adventurers' guild who would be on the hook. If he wasn't the one to defeat it, it might very well be the end of the Adventurers' guild.

Despite the fact that he wanted nothing to do with the upcoming fight, the guild leader fortified his courage and jumped down from the building, joining the Adventurers who were gathering below.

"We've got a problem," he said, speaking to the lieutenants and leaders of the various Adventuring groups. "We've got a massive undead threat heading this direction. There's a small square just northwest of here, and that's where we'll meet it."

Every single person present could hear just how grim Tellson's tone was, and after exchanging worried glances, they followed him, charging up the street to set up their new defensive position. Behind them, they could hear the shouts and screams as the necromancers redoubled their efforts, sending wave after wave of zombies into the Brass Tiger Syndicate's lines. Paskal stood at the forefront, his massive form clearly visible, even as larger undead zombies began to march into battle. Each one of his swipes tore an undead monster apart, but there seemed to be no end to the creatures.

Dodging past a lunging zombie, Paskal ripped its head off with a casual swipe, his eyes constantly scanning the enemy lines for signs of the necromancers that controlled them. The necromancers seemed to have learned their lesson and were keeping a far distance. This made it easier, on the one hand, for the Brass Tiger Syndicate to defend against the zombie horde, but on the other, made it impossible for them to kill the necromancers, which meant extending the fight until every single one of the zombies had fallen.

Hearing a noise, Tellson glanced up and caught sight of a black shadow flitting across the night sky. It was Delrisa the Bone Witch, who had transformed into a vampire. As she landed on one of the buildings, Paskal growled, reaching out and grabbing a zombie who was lunging towards one of his gang members. With a shout, he hurled the zombie through the air, but Delrisa dodged with supernatural grace, her pale face staring down at him.

"Your resistance is futile," she crowed. "There is nothing that you can do to stop the overwhelming might of urg!"

Her words suddenly choked off, as if the air had been strangled out of her lungs, and her body was jerked backward, nearly vanishing into the darkness. There was a puff of air as she transformed her body into a mist that dashed away, reforming again to reveal her pale face staring around wildly. Paskal had no idea what had happened, but with a shrieking hiss, Delrisa dashed off again, leaving the bewildered gang leader staring up into the empty night sky. He didn't know what it was that was keeping the vampire occupied, but he couldn't help but feel a threadt of relief in his heart. Vampires were absurdly difficult to deal with, and it was all he could do to keep his battle line stable. If he had to fight her as well, things would go downhill fast.

That thread of relief only lasted a few seconds, however, and when he caught sight of the large, lumbering figure in the distance, it was extinguished as if it had never existed in the first place. From around the corner came a massive, 15-foot-tall figure who seemed to squelch along, leaving a trail of slime behind. The top half of the figure was a huge, bloated man with three arms so fat that his hands could barely be seen. Two heads, both zombified, extended from his shoulders, and a third face appeared to have been grafted onto his chest. Large, bloodshot eyes stared out from this third face, darting this way and that as they scanned the battlefield. As monstrous as his top half was, it was the large, slug body that replaced his legs that truly gave Paskal the creeps. Four thick tendrils, two extending from each side, grabbed the ground and pulled him along.

Even as he watched, Paskal saw the monstrous aberration crush the zombies in his way without care, occasionally reaching down to grab one. Dark fluid burst from a zombie as the giant undead monsters pudgy hand crushed it and tossed the remains of the undead up to the two heads, who ripped it apart with massive, crooked teeth.

Hey, boss what are we going to do about that?

Hearing one of his lieutenants question, Paskal could only grit his teeth. The gigantic half-slug creature spotted him and let out a shrill laugh from the face on its chest. One of its thick arms lifted and it pointed a sausage-like finger at him.

"You are the one standing in our great lord's way. You will make a fine addition to my glorious form."

Cursing under his breath, Paskal responded by reaching behind him and grabbing the same lieutenant who had said something.

"Sound the alarm," Paskal said. "Set off the flares. We're calling in our favors now."

Only too happy to oblige, the lieutenant fell back, scrambling up to the top of a nearby building as Paskal got ready to face the transformed necromancer who was slowly crawling in his direction. As he got to the top of the roof, the lieutenant glanced down at the utter mayhem below, his breath coming in great gasps. He pulled a short tube from the pouch at his waist and lifted it above his head, muttering a small prayer as he did. The rain was still lashing down hard and lightning cracked above, followed by what felt like an endless peal of thunder. He waited for the thunder to dissipate before twisting the tube and crushing the end. He had it pointed straight up in the air and a blast of flame rose from it, carried up into the air above their heads.

With a shrieking sound, the flame rose, exploding over their position and setting off a bright crimson glow that bathed the city in red light. His was only the first, and soon others began to erupt as well, as the other officers of the Brass Tiger Syndicate and their subordinate gangs began to set off their flares. They held none of them back, and in the short span of a few minutes, over a dozen of them had been launched. This was the highest level of alert a gang had, and across the city, those watching the fight from a distance began to pale, their already worried hearts twisting as they realized just how dire things were getting. In the far distance, Gero Twin Blade of the Ebony Association was standing on a balcony, listening to the faint sounds of battle that filtered through the rainstorm.

"What do we do?" asked a quiet-looking man beside her.

Gritting her teeth, she shook her head.

"Do we have any other choice but to respond?" she asked. "If we're absent, any relationship we have with the Brass Tiger Syndicate is done.

But if we respond, we'll be throwing our forces into harm's way," the man replied coolly.

"Sure," Gero said, as she turned to head downstairs. "But what happens if the Brass Tiger Syndicate falls? I'd much rather the Brass Tigers continue to bear the brunt of this attack, because if they start running, this whole city's going to turn into a mess. Gather the troops. We're going to support them."

Across the city, many other conversations of the same type were happening, but they didn't concern Paskal, who was locked in a fierce fight against the giant transformed necromancer. Up above their heads, two dark shadows flitted through the storm, attacking and defending, each trying to outmaneuver the other through speed and trickery. Garrett was only half paying attention to the fight, even as he controlled Isabelle to pursue Delrisa. The adventurers had drawn their battle line in the distance and were just about to encounter the maragoth, while below, Paskal and the Brass Tiger Syndicate forces were hard-pressed to defend against the endless waves of zombies that were crashing into them.

Rapidly running his calculations, Garrett realized that there wasn't long before this defensive line would fall apart. It was unlikely that the adventurers were going to be able to hold the maragoth, and that went doubly so for the Brass Tiger Syndicate, which had dwindled to nearly half of its original size. Considering his options, Garrett tried to figure out what the best move was. He still had reserves in the tunnels below the city, and pulling flower ghouls to the surface would certainly allow the Brass Tiger Syndicate to hold. But doing so ran the risk of revealing his strength, which would drastically harm the Klein family's ability to grow after this fight ended.

At the same time, unless he figured out a way to stall the zombie horde and kill Agma-Yoth's chosen, there wouldn't be any family to worry about growing. After a few seconds of consideration, Garrett made his decision, sending out messages to the defensive line that was holding strong at the graveyard's southern wall. The Grave Walkers who remained were doing a fantastic job of killing any of the zombies that got close, and the pressure there had begun to lag. Though thinning his defenses at the southern wall was a major risk, Garrett knew that he didn't have any other choice. Pax, who was leading the Awakened Dreamer team, had just crushed a zombie's skull with her mace when Garrett's orders came through. With a flick of her wrist, she freed her weapon from the cracked skull and took a step back.

"We've got new orders," she said. "There's a big beast up near the Adventurer's Guild. We need to go support them."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Maren asked, his eyes flickering as he glanced in the direction of the Adventurer's Guild. "Whatever let out that roar sounds like it could eat all of us for breakfast and have plenty of room left over."

"That's the problem," Pax said, her grin widening. "It probably can. We're going to be linking up with the Adventurer's Guild and doing our best to support them."

"I still think this is a bad idea," Maren muttered, but despite his protests, he was the first to move, scouting ahead of the team as they raced to the Northwest, through the dark streets.

Though it wasn't much, Garrett was hoping that they would be able to begin to turn the tide. He could already sense movement from the other gangs, as their forces headed towards Paskal and the Brass Tiger Syndicate. Garrett knew he was playing a dangerous game, and though Agma-Yoth seemed to have all of the advantages, Garrett found that he wasn't worried in the least. It may have been the influence of the Dreamer's Throne, which seemed to burn away his fear and concern, but Garrett found himself growing more excited. The second stage of the fight was well underway, and he couldn't help but lick his lips in anticipation of what was yet to come.