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Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 61 - Death and misery - 4 of 6
🕑 Added 2023-03-22 23:17:48 +0000 UTCOgre Tyrant: Chapter 61 - Death and misery - 4 of 6
By pulsing Barriers in time with the Liche’s attacks, I was able to descend the mountain and scale the wall unscathed. However, the Asrusian army was taking heavy casualties. Over a third of the army had already been killed outright by the Liche’s barrage of Spells.
Making matters worse, the soldiers slain by the Liche’s Spells were rising as undead and preventing the Asrusians from rallying.
“Signal a full retreat!” I ordered, unwilling to allow the slaughter to continue. The soldiers had played their part. Demanding that they remain any longer would only raise the death toll needlessly higher without accomplishing anything in return.
Faine pulled the horn from his belt and blew several sharp peeling notes in rapid succession.
“FULL RETREAT!!!” Randle and Jayne roared at the closest soldiers, focusing their efforts on directing the commands toward surviving officers.
The command was picked up and carried by officers further down the pass.
All the while, Faine repeated the signal for the retreat.
Soldiers began disappearing into thin air as they teleported directly into an emergency receiving ground within my Demi-Plane. The banners had been left behind for reasons related to secrecy, but I was not above waiving those concerns if it meant saving hundreds or thousands of lives.
Throughout it all, Wisp had remained steadfast atop the wall.
The same could not be said for Marco. I could feel that he was somewhere within the general vicinity of the Liche, but I could see no sign of him.
More pressingly, the Thorn Heart had hunkered down and formed a protective hemispherical shield from its armoured plates but was in rough shape. Blackened and smouldering with emerald flames, it was clear that he had been specifically targeted by several of the Liche’s Spells. Despite being Resistant, the Thorn Heart was not outright invulnerable.
Ushu and Fesk had made several passes over the fortress, weathering glancing blows from the Liche’s lightning and scything arcs of Necrotic mana. Ushu’s Daemonic manifestation appeared to grant a certain degree of defence. However, it was also possible that his Toughness may simply be high enough to resist the Spells outright as I had once done.
For whatever reason, Clarice and Dhizi were playing things far more defensively than I would have anticipated. Strafing the ranks of the turned soldiers with neon pink flames, Dhizi had taken on a slightly different form entirely.
Where Ushu had taken on traits I had come to associate with Daemons, including three large domineering horns. Dhizi’s appearance reminded me somewhat of Sebet. She too had grown a pair of horns. However, despite a discrepancy in scale, they were a perfect match for Sebet’s. Dhizi’s scales had taken on a deep rosy-red lustre and her wings had turned near-entirely pitch black.
“Is it time?” Wisp asked calmly, a slight variance in his inflection revealing his eagerness.
“It is!” I replied tensely, pulsing another Barrier to block an incoming Spell.
“So be it!” Wisp snarled, suddenly adopting an aggressive stance with the blessed blade and taking to the air on ethereal silver wings of light.
“With me!” I commanded and leapt down off of the wall.
There was a distinct possibility that Wisp could defeat the Liche on his own. He was likely immune to just about every conceivable attack the Liche could throw at him, and he had a sword that was the bane of the undead. However, Wisp was no swordsman, and the Liche was similarly immune to his Abilities and Spells in turn.
After coming so close to being rid of the Liche forever, I was unwilling to leave anything to chance. Even if it meant putting my life on the line, I would see the destruction of the Liche with my own eyes.
I used Shape Stone to create a bridge over the trench and then removed it once we had crossed to the other side. There would soon be no one left within the mountain pass. However, the sudden appearance of the black knights had made it clear that the Liche was holding some of its forces in reserve. So leaving a ready-made path to the retreating soldiers would be a bad idea.
By the time my champions and I arrived at the breach in the outer fortress wall, the Liche had retreated into the fortress proper. No doubt with Wisp hot on its heels.
Scaling the rubble, we found Marco locked in a pitched battle against an encirclement of a hundred or so armoured undead.
Despite his superior speed, Strength and Agility, Marco was simply not equipped to fight against what quickly proved to be magically armoured opponents.
We could easily skirt the periphery of the battle and enter the fortress, leaving Marco behind. Especially if I used a certain Spell to render us invisible to the senses of the undead. However, Marco had all of Wisp’s advantages in fighting the Liche and several additional strengths.
For those reasons and more, I decided that leaving him behind would be incredibly foolish.
“MARCO!” I called out a warning before tossing Blackthorn through the air.
The armoured undead were too heavily protected for bladed weapons, but concussive force would carry through the armour and damage the bodies beneath.
Marco sprang up into the air like a coiled spring and snatched Blackthorn by the shaft. Spinning in the air, Marco delivered a vicious underhanded blow to the head of the nearest of the armoured undead.
The sheer force of the blow tore the head off of the armoured undead and sent it flying across the open grounds of the fortress.
Predictably, my sudden outburst had drawn attention from the gathered ranks of the undead. However, the spectacle and noise generated by Marco’s attack had seemingly left the undead confused or otherwise uncertain about who they should attack.
We made the decision simple for them.
Conjuring Shiverfang into my hands, I led my champions in a charge against the armoured undead.
Channelling mana into Shiverfang, I swept the blade of the spear through several of the closest undead. The magical properties of the Artefact drained my mana to cleave through the armour, allowing Ophelia’s slayer enchantment to turn the undead within into ash.
Randle opted for a brute force approach, smashing his Blessed mace into the armoured undead with brutal vigour and intensity while allowing his armour to soak any retaliatory attacks.
Faine and Jayne were forced to be more cautious.
Taking hold of the blade of her sword, Jayne used the hilt and pommel like the head of a mace.
Similarly, Faine prioritised smacking at the undead with the stave of his spear and tripping as many others as he was able. Once the undead were rendered prone, Faine would attempt to thrust the tip of his spear through a gap in their armour. Unfortunately, even with that particular advantage, it was extremely difficult for Faine to land a strike on the actual body of the undead within.
Massed fighting while on a human scale was an entirely different experience than I had grown accustomed to. Unable to simply shove enemies out of my way without some form of runup or charge to build momentum, I had to quickly change my fighting style to avoid being mobbed.
Even so, the combined effect of Shiverfang and my rapid mana regeneration exploit allowed me to hew down the undead with near-absolute confidence. Until, of course, I depleted half of my mana and accumulated a minor level of Fatigue.
I quickly realised that the last of the Kobold auxiliaries must have retreated from the pass and left me without the necessary Synergy. Spending half of what mana remained on a Lesser SUmmoned Kobold, I gave it mental instructions to find a hiding place.
With my mana heavily depleted but quickly regenerating, I backed away from the fiercest fighting and focused on tripping the closest of the remaining undead.
Fewer than a hundred of the armoured undead remained. However, they maintained their attack with the dogged determination only mindless undead were truly capable of. Pushing forward without fear or hesitation, stepping over their fallen without remorse. Accepting a fatal blow so they could attempt a strike of their own, or so another undead could attempt a strike from the flank.
However, the single-mindedness made the undead incredibly predictable. It also allowed us to lure them into overextending over and over again, and the undead would fall for the same feints even after witnessing them more than a dozen times.
Even so, the nearly indestructible nature of magical armour made the undead absolute nightmares to fight by conventional means.
I couldn’t help but wonder why the Liche hadn’t deployed the magically armoured undead earlier. Sheer concentrated volleys might have thinned their numbers slightly, but they would have ultimately seized the northern wall with little difficulty. Especially if their attack had been made in tandem with the abominations who were sent out first.
Of course, if the Liche had joined the attack, to begin with, things likely would have turned out very differently.
I still didn’t understand why the Liche’s attack was undertaken so haphazardly. As tempted as I was to attribute the surprise of the Enhanced Dimensional Anchor in disrupting the Liche’s plans, it just didn’t make sense. The Liche could have made very simple changes at the last moment and altered the outcome entirely.
Cleaving through the neck of another armoured undead, I watched the armour collapse with grim satisfaction. I didn’t like the Werrians to begin with and detested the undead. So destroying what I assumed were the undead remnants of the Werrian army was quite a cathartic experience.
Despite having come to Marco’s aid, he bailed on the fight against the armoured undead the moment he was able to fight his way free.
I could have Commanded Marco to stay but decided against it.
I contented myself with recalling Blackthorn and hanging it from my belt.
While I was willing to allow Marco to pursue vengeance on his own terms, I was not willing to risk Blackthorn falling into the hands of the Liche.
Without Marco drawing the primary focus of the armoured undead, we lost the majority of our established momentum.
Ushu made another pass at the fortress, clawing and gouging at the roof and walls before leaping up and into the sky once more. At a guess, he appeared to be searching for the Liche. But I couldn’t be sure and was too hard-pressed by the armoured undead to consider the matter further.
“Jayne!” I pulled Blackthorn from my belt and waved it briefly before tossing it in her direction.
Freeing her right hand, Jayne caught Blackthorn by the handle and brought it crashing down on the helmet of the nearest undead.
Unlike the Blessed weapons, Blackthorn’s namesakes were capable of puncturing the magical armour of the undead if driven by sufficient force.
Jayne used the thorns touch to restore her own mana while executing prone undead. Free to use her mana liberally in exchange, Jayne interspersed her attacks with Thundering Strikes to disrupt the ragged formation of the undead and destroy those unlucky enough to be struck directly.
After five minutes of intense fighting, I drove Shiverfange through the chest of the final undead.
The undead turned to Ash almost immediately. The empty armour slid off Shiverfang’s blade, clattering noisily against the cobbles beneath our feet.
Without needing to be asked, Jayne returned Blackthorn. “Damn if that weapon isn’t heavy,” she commented dryly while rolling her right shoulder and conjuring a small handful of dried meat strip rations.
“You just aren’t used to the weight and balance,” Randle quipped, breathing heavily while eyeing the surrounding area for signs of more undead.
Jayne grunted something unintelligible before stuffing the meat strips into her mouth and washing them down with a long pull of what I assumed to be water.
“Your form is improving,” Faine commented appraisingly.
It took a few moments before I realised I was the target of his praise. I had no delusions regarding my capabilities. I was an eager novice, at best. However, Faine’s genuine and unsolicited praise gave me a boost in confidence.
In all honesty, it was actually much easier to flow through the stances and forms when the blade of the spear didn’t catch or become slowed by the target. However, Shiverfang’s abilities could be just as deadly to an ally as an enemy.
It was one of the primary reasons I preferred to keep it hidden away and under guard. In just about every respect, Shiverfang was my personal bane. It was the perfect counter to my own defensive Racial Abilities.
But I needed it.
There was no telling what forces the Liche had held back in reserve, and I couldn’t afford to hold back.
To that end, I gathered very nearly all of my mana and prepared to Summon a projection of Ophelia.
Objectively, I realised that I should have Summoned her the moment the Liche first appeared. There was a decent possibility that Ophelia might have been able to launch an attack and disrupt the Liche before it had time to cause so much destruction.
Yet another reminder that I was not cut out for war and the responsibility of command.
I felt a surge of pain rush through my nervous system as the Spell attempted and then failed to take form.
As the pain receded, I realised that I had been profoundly naive in thinking that the Liche wouldn’t have taken precautions of its own.
Except, I had already performed a Lesser Summon Spell already. This meant that whatever had prevented me from Summoning a projection might have specific requirements or criteria to function. However, I could still only guess what was responsible and how it worked.
The mana I had attempted to use in Summoning Ophelia was gone.
While waiting for my mana to regenerate, I explained what had happened. Hoping that one of my champions might have an answer.
“Maybe there is a Spell that is protecting the fortress?” Randle suggested uncertainly. “I haven’t heard of anything that behaves as you described, but this is hardly my area of expertise...”
Jayne nodded in agreement while keeping watch on the fortress.
“Or perhaps another Artefact? This fortress looks...important...almost palatial...” Faine sounded seriously concerned. He knelt down by one of the scattered suits of armour and inspected it.
“What are you thinking?” Randle asked worriedly, demonstrating that he knew his cousin far better than I did and had found cause for concern.
“I think...” Faine paused and looked up at the fortress, “I think this is the Werrian’s Imperial palace...”
