Dreamer's Throne

Book 3: Chapter 22

Arthur Tellson, Master of the Adventurers Guild, scanned the intersection. His forces gathered around him, spreading out to each side. Though their expressions were grim, none of the adventurers hesitated as they quickly ran into their positions. Every single one of them had faced terrible odds before and emerged victorious. And though the creature they were about to fight against was beyond anything that any of them had ever experienced, the concept was at least the same.

"Where are the chains and hooks?" Arthur asked.

"We're getting them, sir," one of his lieutenants replied.

When they moved out, they hadn't brought the equipment the adventurers would normally use for fighting against a large beast, and so Arthur had ordered it to be retrieved. Unfortunately, most of the gear was back behind where the maragoth had reanimated, in the Adventurers Guild building itself, and so teams of adventurers had been dispatched, circling wide around the rampaging creature, monster, to try and retrieve it before it was too late.

The one stroke of good luck, Arthur thought to himself, was that the maragoth had not seemed interested in destroying the Adventurers Guild building and had left it almost entirely unharmed. Its whipping tail had smashed through the front entrance, carving a deep scar along the stone wall at the front of the building, but that was practically nothing compared to the damage it had wrought on the houses on either side of the street it was advancing down. Even now he could hear the heavy footsteps of the creature as it loped along and feel the subtle shake of the earth under its weight. After its initial roar, it hadn't made a single sound, though the rattle of its spikes and the crash and boom of the buildings it was inadvertently deconstructing was enough to help them track its position.

"Our goal is to stall," he said. "We'll take a normal approach against it, so everyone get ready. Ranged fighters, make sure you're keeping up steady pressure. Front line fighters, keep yourself safe. You need to last as long as possible."

Even as he spoke, Tellson grimaced. He could see the unwillingness in the eyes of the close combat adventurers. No one wanted to get close to a Maragoth, especially an undead one who had been reborn stronger, but there simply wasn't a choice. If they didn't have a defensive line to stop its forward progress, it would simply run right past them.

In the distance, Tellson could hear the shouts of the Brass Tiger Syndicate as they continued to do battle with the waves of zombies pouring out of the royal graveyard, and for a moment he imagined what utter devastation it would cause if the Maragoth managed to join up with a zombie horde. No defensive line would be able to stand under its claws, which meant the zombies would be free to spread out, flooding through the city. Considering the corrosive nature of their attacks and their ability to spread the curse they carried, that would turn a bad situation into an absolute nightmare scenario. As soon as citizens began to be infected en masse, this district would be all but lost. The only hope was to hold the defensive lines, keeping the Maragoth and the zombie horde separated until reinforcements arrived.

The guild master's heart hammered in his chest as he saw the Maragoth round a small turn in the street, its massive head swinging from side to side as it loped towards them. Muttering a small prayer, he gripped his swords tightly. There was no choice but for him to meet the beast head-on, hopefully stalling it long enough that the other adventurers could engage without immediately dying.

Arthur Tellson had been a shaper for many years, but never had he felt this level of raw power in any creature. Fortifying his courage, he took a step forward, feeling the adventurers around him perking up. That was the problem with leadership. If he had simply hid at the back, which he would have preferred to do, the adventurers that formed the main battle line wouldn't have given it their all. It was only by advancing that he was able to inspire courage in them as well.

The pounding of his heart intensified, seeming to match the pounding thump, the drum of Maragoth's steps. And as it came within a hundred feet, he struck. Stepping forward, he brought his two swords together above his head, letting out a loud shout as he slashed down, unleashing a wave of pure energy that ripped across the intersection, slamming into the side of the Maragoth's head, just under its eye.

Muttering a small curse, as he had intended to attack its eye directly, Tellson felt his blood freezing as the giant creature turned its head to look at him. Its two eyes, each almost as big as he was, burned brightly as it recognized a threat, and it let out a low growl that still shook the buildings nearby.

"Charge!" Tellson roared, leaping forward to attack the monster.

It responded with a swipe of its claws, but he ducked underneath, his swords stabbing towards its forelimb. His blades cut into the inky darkness that surrounded its bones, but then bounced as they encountered its hard bones. Still, he saw the creature twitch as it recoiled from his attack, and a deep sense of relief flooded through his heart.

"It can be harmed!" he yelled, relieving the greatest fear that every single adventurer present had.

The hardest part of fighting monsters in higher tiers, especially Shaper-level monsters, was that their tough scales were often too difficult for most attacks to pierce. In life, the Maragoth had possessed a thick layer of scales that prevented all but the most powerful attacks from breaching its defenses, and secretly, almost every adventurer there had worried that everything they threw at this giant undead monster was just going to bounce off. Having proven that wasn't the case, Tellson gave the command with a wave of his sword, and hundreds of ranged attacks were launched into the air, flying across the street from the surrounding buildings and pummeling the Maragoth back in the head. They didn't deal much damage, but the hundred small pinpricks seemed to annoy the creature to no end, and it let out a loud roar, causing many of the charging adventurers to cower in instinctive fear.

Lifting its claw, it had just begun to attack one of the frozen adventurers when a loud drumbeat sounded, echoing across the street and freeing the frozen adventurer from the grip of terror. With a panicked shout, the adventurer tumbled backwards, barely avoiding the sweeping claw. Another drum was added to the first, and a steady beat began to play out, sending invisible energy through the air to counteract the instinctive fear they felt of the Maragoth. Faces paled at the strain, two adventurers stood on either side of the street, pounding out a stable rhythm, inspiring the adventurers to fight.

Tellson was right at the front, his swords flashing as he hacked at the monster's limbs, trying to buy time. He knew that this wasn't a fight they could win, and his entire focus was on keeping the monster busy. The Maragoth, swamped by attackers, seemed to be having trouble figuring out who to kill first, and each time it raised a claw, the adventurers nearby would scatter, retreating as fast as they could, only to flood back in when it changed its target to someone else.

For nearly five minutes, the fight raged back and forth before one of the of the out-of-breath adventurers ran up to where the guild master was fighting.

"They brought the chains!" he yelled.

Eyes lighting up, Tellson was about to give the command when a faint feeling of dread hit him, and he saw the Maragoths head rear back up, its mouth opening as darkness began to gather in its maw. In its living form, the Maragoth didn't have a breath breath attack, but there were other monsters who did, and it only took a fraction of a second for Tellson to realize what was going to happen next.

"ABANDON THE FIELD!" he roared, his words powered by his mental energy, echoing through each and every adventurer's ears.

Spurred by the energy in his voice, every single adventurer did exactly that, fleeing as far and as fast as possible as the Maragoth unleashed a blast of dark energy, raking its head from side to side as it tried to hit the adventurers scurrying this way and that. It managed to clip two of them, and with screams, their flesh began to melt away as if they had been dunked in a vat of acid. The guild leader, who had been close enough to the Maragoth's chest that its breath couldn't reach him, redoubled his efforts to attack, managing to land a strikea piercing blow to its neckthat caused the necromantic energy it was spewing out to falter. With an annoyed roar, it tried to slap him aside, but he dodged back quickly. Everywhere the monster's breath had landed, the ground bubbled as the necromantic energy ate into the stone. And the two adventurers who had been hit, their bodies stripped down to skeletons, rose to their feet, fierce green flames burning in their eye sockets.

Attack! Kill the skeletons!

As fast as they had run, the adventurers returned, driven by the frantic pounding of the drums as they launched their attacks once again. This time, however, teams on either side of the street began to throw heavy chains with large hooks at the end that latched onto the bony body and spikes of the Maragoth, pulling it this way and that as they attempted to pin it down. Watching as the hooks found purchase, Tellson couldn't help but shiver. This was a temporary measure at best, one that likely wouldn't make a difference in the long run, but would hopefully buy them some time. Even as he fought, his gaze drifted to the southwest. He knew that the army was watching, likely defending the bridges that connected this district to the noble's district to the south.

He was desperately hoping to hear the sound of their trumpets, but nothing came. Holding the defensive line against the giant undead slug monster, Paskal was desperately hoping to hear the same sound. The pressure the massive transformed necromancer was putting on him prevented him from assisting his men in fighting against the zombie horde, and slowly they were beginning to be pushed back. Reinforcements should have arrived already, but for whatever reason, they hadn't, and Paskal found himself growing desperate. Around him, he could see his men beginning to fall under the weight of the zombie attack. Each fighter they lost added to the horde seeking to overrun them.

Letting out a furious roar, he slashed, ethereal claws manifesting over his hand and tearing three giant gouges in the side of the slug. The necromancer screeched in pain, one of his pudgy hands thrusting towards Paskal and unleashing a bolt of necromantic energy. Paskal had already left a dozen wounds across the monster's body, one tearing through the face on its chest, ripping apart one of its eyes and most of its nose. But the undead creature's vitality seemed endless, and it continued to press forward, attempting to crush him under its bulk. The only reason their line hadn't been overrun so far was the fact that the undead monstrosity killed dozens of its own troops every time it moved.

Still, Paskal was starting to fade. He could feel his energy flagging and knew that there wasn't much time. The first cracks in the Brass Tiger formation soon widened, and on the far end, one of their fighters fell, allowing a dozen zombies to surge through. Paskal felt his heart drop. This seemed to be the end. More and more zombies pressed towards that spot, directed by the unseen hand of a necromancer hiding at the back of the horde, and the Brass Tiger defensive line began to fold. Realizing that the fight was lost, Paskal was about to retreat when he heard a loud shout and a massive figure wearing a black mask charged into battle, wielding a giant mace. Her figure looked familiar to Paskal, and after a moment of puzzling, he figured it out, thanks to the five-petaled flower symbol etched on her mask.

Pax's mace tore through the zombies, shattering bone and tearing flesh, as she plugged the hole that had been created in the battle line. Almost single-handedly, she stemmed the flow, blocking with her shield, even as her mace carved a vicious path through the zombies. Bolts, launched with pinpoint accuracy, tore through the zombies who slipped by, carrying them back into the crowd with devastating force. The arrival of Pax's team seemed to have a stabilizing effect, and the battle line that had been about to crumble quickly reformed.

"Reinforcements are on their way," Marin yelled, reloading his crossbow.

Behind Pax, Estelle and Asher stood together, both of their arms raised. Dressed in all white, Estelle stood out on the battlefield, and as she began to chant, energy blossomed in the fighters around her, renewing their strength and reinforcing their morale. Asher seemed the entire opposite, and as his voice rolled out, most of the fighters nearby were forced to move away. Shadows lunged into the zombies in the middle of the group, sending them rampaging through their own forces, as the spirits he controlled began to do their work. But the most impressive sight, by far, was Kinsley, who unleashed gouts of flame that ripped through the zombie lines, transforming them into little more than ash.

The impact of their arrival was so great that the entire side of the zombie horde began to collapse, driven back by the combination of Asher's disruptive control, and Kinsley's burning flames. Still fighting desperately in the center of the battlefield, Paskal barely had time to glance over, but a disquieted feeling bloomed in his heart. He had already made it clear to the Klein family how he felt about them, and to all intents and purposes they were already at war. Yet the Klein family forces were the first to arrive and assist them. Unsure how he felt about it, Paskal shook his head and threw himself into battle fully. Now that he didn't have to worry about his battle line collapsing, he was able to fight against the powerful necromancer in front of him with renewed vigor.