They came at dawn.

Rotgoriel woke to yelling, and booted feet clattering on stone from the village below. And then came the meaty CHONK of the catapult, flinging its boulder unseen, presumably at foes.

Silence for a second.

Then more yelling, this time with a frantic note, and many urgings to get clear.

CRACK!

An impact, stone on stone, and Rotgoriel reached the mouth of his cave in time to see the boulder rolling through the village. It put a dent into the side of the inn, and came to a stop in the muddy mush.

“They have Earth Elementalists!” Someone yelled, and Rotgoriel nodded. It would take at least one powerful Elementalist to turn that boulder around completely. He would keep that in mind during the battle.

But there were other things to keep in mind. Even without the significant look that Agnezsharron gave him as he landed next to her, he knew his role in this fight.

“Does anyone need healing?” he called. “Get behind me. I shall tend to your injuries.”

Dragons didn't smile, but it seemed to him that Agnezsharron relaxed a bit, before she took off into the air. She headed west, soon disappearing around the curve of the mountain.

There were few takers for his healing; people had enough warning to scatter, and the fragments from its impact had mostly been soaked up by armor. But Rotgoriel waited.

Richard had explained it. This was like that chess game, that his world had. He was the King; if they captured him then they won. So it was best to stay behind a field of pawns, unless trouble came for him directly.

But he couldn't do that and win. His foe had a tactic that he could not counter unless he gained at least one more Cleric level. So he waited, and he watched, and occasionally he flew up a bit to get a bigger picture.

The village had about three hundred people crammed into it. Heavily armored infantry, mostly humans with a few Cob-goblins thrown in. The cobs weren't fast, but their custom boots let them navigate the mountains with ease, and by the looks of it they had provided alterations to their human troops' footwear as well.

The Eastern pass had about five hundred more people atop its reinforced cliffs. That was where the bulk of the players that Rotgoriel had spent so much time training and leveling were stationed. Here at the front lines they would be in the thick of it, and the experience would be incredible. Moreover, if they died, then they would simply return to the village.

A good portion of Mayhew's forces lay to the south of the Eastern pass. If the enemy pushed in earnest, they would harass or strike them from the south and east. If everything went well, it would be a killing ground.

The Southern pass was more lightly guarded, with only two hundred of Mayhew's forces occupying it. That was because the rest of Mayhew's army was right below it to the south, ready to rush up and reinforce the village.

To the west the sheer cliffs and bulk of the mountain made an assault unlikely. Agnezsharron was covering that flank anyway, with a few of Mayhew's fliers. It seemed a waste of a dragon, but she was fast, and could get around to reinforce the other fronts as necessary.

Also, she was the Queen in this game. If she was captured then the battle wasn't lost, but everything got harder, and there would be no way to stop the foe from accomplishing their first objective.

The north... the north was guarded by the wendigos. They were fast, sturdy, and their teeth were strong enough to pierce dragonhide. Rotgoriel had little concerns about the northern slopes. They were rough terrain, but not as bad as the west. The wendigos would have ample hiding places and plenty of opportunities for ambush. No, the north would hold.

That was what Rotgoriel thought until he got a good look at the opposing forces, anyway.

They'd brought elephants.

Not exactly elephants, not as Richard's memories told him what elephants should be, but some big hairy things that seemed to have no vital points. Even the presence of their eyes was debatable, buried as they had to be under layers of armor and hair. Their hide and fur were oddly crystalline, the colors of an oil slick or a twisting rainbow, and they were big; big enough that he looked like a duck compared to a normal elephant, as far as Rotgoriel could tell.

That irked him. But he consoled himself with the notion that he'd find out what they tasted like before the day was done, most likely.

The elephants weren't alone, either, not by a long shot. From this distance, even with the massive perception that a dragon could bring to bear on his prey, the figures that moved among the legs of the elephants were black specks. They were mostly humanoid, but that was all he could tell without getting closer... and that was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do.

Taller monsters and creatures moved among the hordes, and of those he could make out a few more details. There were some things that looked definitely trollish, and a few large cats that reminded him of the Snow Links that he'd fought so long ago, but by far the most numerous monsters were things that looked like giant spiders made of glass. By comparison, the largest of them was somewhere around his size.

“Well. Hopefully they don't taste like shit,” he muttered to himself, as he returned to the village.

To his surprise, he found soldiers waiting for him, huddled around a bonfire, blood splattering their armor and a few of them groaning. One seemed to be literally holding his guts in.

Father Nosebest walked through them, wearing a suit of chainmail that had been added since they last fought together. This was... Pat, Rotgoriel remembered.

“More than I expected at this point, Rotgoriel said, landing as gently as he could.

“Scouts and skirmishers. They're taking our measure, and we're trying to keep them from getting the full picture. Ah shit!” he moved up to the man who was holding his stomach and whimpering. “Those are intestines. Yeah, you get this. Greater Healing.”

“Leave some of that for me,” Rotgoriel advised, then got on with his own lesser healings. It was good for a few skill levels, and he was able to replenish the sanity used from potions that Pat happily passed over after he was done.

“You might be better used in triage,” Pat said, glancing east. “From what those little creepy birds say, they're gonna hit the pass soon.”

Rotgoriel nodded. “It is a risk... but at this early stage, too much of an opportunity to pass up. I shall move there. Thank you for your advice.”

He unfurled his wings, but a tug on his right wingtip made him pause. He turned to look at Pat, standing there alone as the soldiers they'd healed headed back to the front.

“You sure you want to go through with... tonight?” Pat asked. “Big step. No going back, man. Not for any of us.”

“Yes,” Rotgoriel said. “But we will do this. There is no alternative.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” It was Rich's sacrifice, more than Rotgoriel's That made his words a bit disingenuous. But perhaps it was what Pat needed, for the human seemed to take strength from his “conviction.” In either case, he released Rotgoriel's wingtip, and the wind met Rotgoriel with a welcome chill as he ascended.

He reached the pass just as the first wave of enemies did.

This time it was different. His allies had set up piles of snowbags along the ridge, and were raining arrows down, along with rocks. A massive spray of boulders had been set into the middle of the pass, and a few hundred troops manned the barricade with long, stabby weapons. The spellcasters of the group were behind them, raining fire and ice and lightning and other more esoteric effects on the advancing foes.

“I am triage!” He bellowed, over the roar of triggered skills and spells. “Bring the wounded to me for salvation!”

That got some arrows sent his way from behind enemy lines, but he furled his wings and scowled. The meager few that hit bounced from his scales without harm.

They brought him the wounded, and he treated them. He was close enough to watch the battle, to stare down the pass at the lines, and that seemed to give the foes pause.

They were not as well-equipped as Mayhew's men. And not nearly as confident. But they pushed forward, step by step, shields out in front and above as they moved forward in formation.

And after they'd reached the last hundred feet, battered from boulders and pierced by arrows they broke and charged, howling with something that was anger and fear combined.

Rotgoriel couldn't resist the temptation. He scooted the shivering soldier at his feet aside, and told the front lines, “Down.”

They paused and looked to him. “DOWN!” he roared.

They dropped like rocks.

“BURNINATE!” Rotgoriel roared.

And oh, it was glorious.

CON+1

Your Burninate skill is now level 21!

Steam filled the valley, and he heard more than one mage in the back mutter “Manipulate Air!” It cleared, but Rotgoriel had caught enough of that delicious roasted smell to know what it would reveal.

The front lines, easily four or five dozen men and women had been roasted in their armor like lobsters. They lay in the snow, charred and sizzling, as the ranks behind them stared in horror, their charge broken.

With a mighty wingbeat Rotgoriel hopped the lines and landed in front of them. “COME AND DIE!” he roared.

They did not in fact come and die.

They broke and fled.

Rotgoriel nodded, scooped up some nicely cooked corpses, and hopped back over the barrier. There he bit down, crunching through cheap armor to get to the good stuff.

To his mild disappointment, his own soldiers didn't cheer. They fired shots at the enemy, and focused on getting the barricades repaired from the little harm that enemy missiles and spells had inflicted.

One figure among them headed back. Rotgoriel recognized Sir Gideon... also known as Greg, even though the armor was new. The smell was the same.

“You need to move, man.”

“I am healing, here,” Rotgoriel protested, waving a claw at the small group of wounded trickling down from the cliffs. Now that he had bought them some respite, they were using the time to regroup appropriately.

“Yeah, and you just advertised your presence and showed them you're a problem. This was the test push. You took out fodder, next time around they'll have stuff to deal with you. Scoot and let us switch things up.”

Rotgoriel glowered at the insolent human... but Richard's memories nagged at him. This was basic military tactics, a hobby that Greg had shared with his human brother. And Greg had usually beaten him in the simulations. “Very well. Let me dump some sanity and fortune, at least.”

Greg nodded, then headed back. “Oh, one more thing,” Rotgoriel told him. “Bless your Constitution one hundred.”

Greg sketched a salute with his sword, without breaking stride. Rotgoriel chuckled, and got back to healing.

Three skill levels later, it was back to the village. He landed, to see Antonic flying his way at top speed. “Effendi! Agnezsharron sent word. There is trouble to the north, and she asks you meet her there at once!”

“Asks?” Rotgoriel squinted at the djinn, even as he accepted a couple of potions from Pat. The blue stuff tasted horrible, but he felt his sanity return.

“Commands, actually,” the djinn admitted. “I thought it rude, so I... equivocated.”

“No need. I know how she is.” With a nod at Pat, Rotgoriel took to the sky again.

And in the space of a few minutes, he found himself on the western side of the mountain.

Rotgoriel blinked, there in the shadow of the peak, with Agnezsharron's roaring just audible on the wind behind him.

“What is this?” He turned around...

...and found himself on the eastern side of the mountain, staring down at the oncoming village.

This. This had to be what Richard referred to as shenanigans.

Rotgoriel gritted his teeth, and forced himself to fly slower, as he turned, and thought of going north. North.

You have resisted Irr Elephant 7's Elephant in the Room skill!

WILL+1

The Warmers had sent their elephants marching south. All of them. And their crystalline hides glinted and shimmered in the sun, waves of wisping around like a fog cloud full of glitter. Glitter that Rotgoriel could feel drawing his eyes, trying to convince him that there was nothing here, and that he shouldn't talk about the elephant in the room... or on the slopes, for that matter.

Worse, they weren't alone.

Each of the dozen or so gargantuan creatures had shapes of shifting glass on their backs. Long-legged, many-eyed shapes.

Not only had they set invisible elephants on him, but they'd loaded them up with with the glass spiders. And gods only knew what they could do.

Actually, gods might know what they were planning. One god in particular.

He looked around for Agnezsharron, found her on one of the mountain ledges, glaring at the oncoming horde. Smart, she hadn't rushed in. He winged over and landed next to her.

“Good,” she said. “You take the six on the left, I shall kill the—”

“Hold that thought,” Rotgoriel said, lifting a claw. “Pray to Konol.”

The air became fragile and brittle again, and the light filtering from above slowed, became a gentle warmth. To his side, Agnezsharron was bright green, but losing detail, her voice falling to a whisper while her heartbeats were audible and loud.

“Well,” Konol's voice was warm and amused. “They found elephants that sighted people would struggle to describe, while blind men would have the advantage of accuracy for a change.”

“What?” Rotgoriel frowned.

“Ah, nothing. Ask your brother sometime, maybe he'd know that one. What's the problem?”

“We could probably chew through them one at a time. But those are big creatures, with many hit points. And the spiders would probably get annoying.”

“So you want to find a more efficient way to deal with them?”

“I do not think we can finish them all off before they come at the village from an unprotected flank. The wendigos do not seem to see through their illusions. We must... come at their weaknesses, like my brother would. Fight unfairly.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Konol hummed for a bit. “If I were you, I would ask Agnezsharron more about these creatures. Specifically about how they get along in the wild. When they're not tamed.”

“That's your advice?”

“Best I can do. I can't see them too well from where I'm at, and I don't have any Clerics with a working knowledge of these things. And they were a hell of a lot smaller when I walked the world last.”

“Thank you, god.”

“You're welecome. Make me proud, Rotgoriel.”

“End Prayer.” He turned his neck to face Agnezsharron. “These creatures, the spiders and the elephants, what do you know of them?”

“The spiders hunt in packs. They have no webs, but an irritating poison that can knock even a dragon into slumber, given enough bites. The elephants project a magical aura that makes you want to ignore them.”

“And are they allies in nature?”

“No, the spiders hunt the elephants when they can. It strains the elephants to keep their aura up, so the spiders are patient and keep circling until the elephants lose their concentration.”

“Yet every elephant I see is covered in spiders, but not being eaten by spiders. Why is that?”

Agnezsharron blinked. Then she smiled. “I shall go ask. Stay here. Speak With Nature.”

He watched her loop out, roar in a strangely nasal way, and listened to the ear-splitting screech as one of the elephants roared back. Then she returned, and oh her grin was sharp and full of teeth.

“We do not have to kill the elephants. But those little guys who are in right below their necks in armored boxes... well, amusing things should follow when they die. Shall we?”

“What did you say earlier?” Rotgoriel grinned back. “I shall take the six on the left?” He put up Holy Smite and Shield of Divinity, and got to work.

It wasn't as easy as he'd hoped. The Tamers who rode in underslung howdahs, mostly hidden by thick, stinking fur, had chosen their defensive spots well. The Elephants could and did batter him with tusk and trunk, and several times he was forced to retreat and get a better angle.

But at the end of the day he had fire, and they didn't. And that made all the difference.

They were halfway up the slope by the time he slew the first one, and the results were everything he could have hoped for. A terrible pause, a shuddering, then spiders scrambling in all directions as the elephant bleated and ran wild. The shimmering around it faded as it rolled desperately on the ground, leaving smears of grease and blood behind, the spiders unable to escape frantically trying to burrow into the flesh of the creature's back.

And then came the sound he'd been waiting to hear.

The deep, rising wail of wendigos that had just noticed a feast come among them.

Rotgoriel accounted for one more elephant, withdrawing to lick his own wounds, before noticing that the other four he'd been allotted were in full retreat. But they'd come a long way, and there was still plenty of time to finish the job—

“Hey!” LivingDeadGrrl said, speeding up from the snow below. “They've got mages coming. You need to get out of here!”

“Tell Agnezsharron,” he said, winging away instantly.

“Tell her yourself, I got shit to do!”

“Insolent little.... nnnng.... I mean, thank you.” he forced the words through his teeth, and left without another word. But she was gone before he could finish the sentence.

“Agnezsharron! We are leaving!” he called to her.

“What?” she said, moving away from her third panicked elephant. “We have them!”

A familiar blue wall of shimmering force popped up, missing her by mere meters.

“Leaving. Got it!” she said, and put on a burst of speed. Together they headed back to the village.

And as they went, Rotgoriel sighed in relief at the words that popped up before him.

You are now a Level 10 Cleric!

CON+3

LUCK+3

WIS+3

You have learned the Divine Transit skill!

You have learned the Holy Bolt skill!

Your Holy Bolt Skill is now level 1!

He felt refreshed, in only that way that level ups could give. Joyous but fleeting... and the feeling evaporated as he saw the troops rushing through the village.

Reinforcements from the south, heading east, which meant that the pass was taking a pounding.

“What comes?” he bellowed, as he landed, wings beating and holding him in place until the swarming allies cleared a space for him.

“Big push,” Greg said, shouldering his way through the crowd. He was wearing respawn boxers, and the yellow numbers popping from his head every dozen seconds showed that the cold was taking its toll. “Armored player. Think he's a knight.”

“Tankitaway?” Rotgoriel felt his heart rise in his chest. One of his mother's murderers was here?

“Yeah. He's got about a million— hey!” Greg shouted, as Rotgoriel took off again, speeding east.

Richard's advice flew from his mind. Hesitation fell away from him. Anger, hot and pure and joyous built within him, and he let it fill him, let it drive him faster.

He would kill Tankitaway! He would take his vengeance on this creature that had so callously slain his mother! Nothing would stop him!

Two minutes later, drifting in the gray void of death chat, Rotgoriel reflected that perhaps Richard had a point with his advice. He was not sure what Tankitaway had made of himself, but he was pretty sure attacking the man, and his army, and all the archers nearby, and the mages he'd brought to support him head on had been perhaps a touch optimistic. With a sigh, he paid his tokens, nodded in respect to Konol, and returned to the village.

“Oh thank fuck,” A dry, lifeless voice intoned as he materialized. “I was worried they'd captured you,” Mayhew said, leaning on his staff. The village swirled around him, soldiers pouring up from the south and eastward, cob-goblins breaking off to charge down the slopes and hit the flanks of the enemy's vanguard.

Rotgoriel opened his mouth, and hesitated as words crossed his vision.

Congratulations, by throwing yourself senselessly to a raging doom, you have unlocked the Berserker job!

You cannot become a Berserker at this time, all adventuring slots are full!

Even the words that bound this world thought he'd been stupid. That hurt, a little.

“I was... foolish,” Rotgoriel admitted.

“So are they,” Mayhew said, swaying a bit. “Doesn't make sense.”

“What?”

“They're just... throwing their army into the pass. Feeding us. It's like they think we're playing a... MOBA.”

“What?” Rotgoriel frowned.

“Before your time... guess.” Mayhew fell silent.

“Are you all right?”

“Tired. Long night. Thass all.”

Rotgoriel wondered. But there were other concerns at hand. “What now?”

Mayhew seemed to gather himself. “We're winning. You stopped them at the north, that thing with the... elephants. Big waste, there. They could have pushed harder, but didn't. Distraction? Maybe. Sit back. Stay behind the... lines. They're feeding you. So feed. We're winning.... for now.”

His anger stilled, Rotgoriel fell back to his role, healing those who were put before him. It was good for another Cleric level, and much more healing skill. He got heartily sick of the taste of the blue potions he was downing, though.

They are feeding us, Rotgoriel mused, as the sun started sinking down below the western peaks. The thought made his stomach rumble, reminded him that he hadn't eaten in a while. He took a break and winged northwestward, found the collapsed bulk of one of the mammoths. There were wendigos mindlessly shoveling bits of it into their maws, but he bellowed until they backed away, and scurried off to another of the village-sized corpses.

Rotgoriel dug in, and found that while the hair was disgusting and best clawed away, the flesh itself was some of the best he'd ever had.

“Yo, scaly,” LivingDeadGrrl said, some time later.

“Hrm?” He looked up at her, blinked blood from his eyes.

“That's a nice look on you. You really get into this RP stuff, huh? Can't blame you, it's still amazing how stuff tastes in this.” She grinned, teeth bloody under her mask. But the grin faded. “I found something, don't know how much of a problem it is. Wanna come see?”

Rotgoriel considered, belched, and followed without argument. He was full enough for now.

That full feeling turned to worry, as he stared at the blue, shimmering wall of force over a tunnel leading straight down into the ground. He looked up, looked around. “There is nothing here. Do you think they are trying to tunnel into the village?”

“I'm no expert, but the angle seems wrong to me. But they made this with earth elementals, and I think they did it while we were fighting the mammoths.”

“The Irr Elephants.”

“They seemed pretty damned relevant to me. Anyway, Agnezsharron found one on the other side. I'm thinking maybe you should tell that Lich guy, yeah?”

“He has a lot on his mind right now. Skull, anyway. But yes, I can. Ah...” something occurred to him. “Can you invite Agnezsharron to the party?”

“I could, sure. We should have done it earlier, probably.”

“It fell by the wayside. But do it, I have a feeling.” Without another word, Rotgoriel took to the sky.

The sun was a sliver in the sky by the time Rotgoriel returned. “Mayhew!” he bellowed.

But the Lich was nowhere to be found.

“Mayhew?” he searched around further, “where is Mayhew?” But no one had an answer for him.

Then he remembered that they were mostly NPC's up here. “Invictus,” he said, reigning it in as he talked to somewhat intimidated group of resting troops. “I need to find Invictus.”

“Oh, why didn't you say so?” their sergeant pointed south. “He'll be at the southern pass, sir.”

Rotgoriel headed that way...

Agnezsharron has joined your party!

Well, that was some good news, at least.

Agnezsharron has activated Party Whisper

Agnezsharron: You?

“What?”

Rotgoriel: What?

“Oh, wait. This is like death chat.”

Rotgoriel: Oh, wait. This is like death chat.

Agnezsharron: Meatling, you did not tell me that Rotgoriel was in this party.

LivingDeadGrrl: Should I have? We don't have time. Listen, Rotgoriel, Agnez helped me dig down at an angle, I'm checking out the tunnels now. And we have a problem.

Rotgoriel: What sort of problem?

LivingDeadGrrl: Enough explosives to take out the village ten times over.

Rotgoriel: They are undermining us?

LivingDeadGrrl: That's the weird thing, it's nowhere near the village. It looks like the mountain is gonna shield it from the worst of the blast.

Rotgoriel: Then why...

LivingDeadGrrl: Oh shit!

LivingDeadGrrl has died!

Rotgoriel blinked.

Then the rumbling started.

One, two, five, twenty places around and on the mountain, dust plumes burst into the air.

The air itself shook. Below him, he could see soldiers falling, grabbing on for dear life as stone screamed and split.

And the mountain itself started to come down, sending thousands of his allies screaming to the valley below as the avalanche took them...