4 Scallas

“There’s more coming down the left tunnel. Drop back to the entrance!” Erramir yelled above the din of flapping and screeching. Val flung Virg down the passage he’d indicated as they all back-peddled toward the entrance tunnel. She clenched her hand into a fist, halting the weapon midair a few feet inside the second tunnel opening.

“I’m going to try something,” she gritted out. “Keep these little bastards off me.”

Erramir wasn’t sure how he was going to do that, but if Val could somehow stop the second swarm of scallas, bat-like vampiric rodents with scales, from attacking, he was damn sure going to try.

He faced the first swarm they’d disturbed. They flew in a cloud that consumed most of the cavern. How the hell do I tank this?

“Any new spell ideas back there, Car?” Erramir called to the mage.

“Yeah!” His green-liveried friend hollered back over the riot of screeching. “I’m working on something… but I need more time.”

Carson’s Ice Volt spell was designed for massive damage against large creatures; against these pint-sized horrors, it was basically useless. They’d only managed to kill a scant few so far by stunning them with his shield or Val’s staff and then stomping on them.

They’d also managed a couple kills after scallas landed on Erramir’s back and bit him. The creatures settled into a trance after biting, making them an easy target to knock off and crush. Erramir was highly opposed to relying on that tactic.

But right now, Val and Carson both needed time, and he couldn’t think of anything better than being bait. This is going to seriously suck, Erramir thought with a grimace as he considered the thirty-foot wide tornado of blood-sucking mobs.

“Stay as still as you can,” he called out. “I’m going to try and kite this first swarm around the room.” Erramir couldn’t see the looks of horror that both companions shot at his back.

These things are like bats, and bats have good hearing, right… maybe I can use that, he thought, considering a plan that might allow him to live through this.

They’d backed well away from the writhing black mass, but tentative groups of fifteen or twenty had begun to arc out in little waves, probing for their location.

These winged sorties were getting closer; it wouldn’t be long before they were found. He chanced a final glance back and saw a few had gotten through Val’s spinning wall of death and were circling her.

He lifted his left arm, shield attached. “Duck, Val!” Angling it forward and strap-side leading, he swung through the space her head vacated.

Three scallas thunked into it and flopped to the ground, dazed but still moving. He smashed one under his heel and stabbed his longsword through the second, leaving the weapon, hilt swaying back and forth. The third he dropped the knife-edge of his shield on, splitting it in half.

“Thanks!” Val called.

He nodded and turned his attention back to his task of being bait. Erramir shifted his Presence 2 attribute boost from Constitution to Twitch. What he was planning would work better with boosted speed and jumping capacity.

He pulled his arm out of the leather strapping on the shield back, flipped it over, and gripped it by the sides with kite-point up. Then, after a final deep breath, he ran forward and jumped up into the air, yelling like a maniac.

His enhanced avatar body, with twitch boosted, got enough height to jump onto a single-story house. The sensation was thrilling.

Erramir swung his shield, essentially a small-desk-sized sheet of steel, through the swarm as if it was a massive fly swatter.

A cluster of scallas thunked off and arched out of the living cloud like weighted rags with their wings trailing.

Landing, he aimed for them, leapt high, and swung again. Screeching assailed his ears, and small bodies rebounded off his chest, legs, and one off his face. Erramir squinted to protect his eyes.

Another group thwacked into his shield and were sent careening through the air. He landed and rushed to stomp the dazed ones. They squished and popped like fat jelly rolls in zip-lock bags.

A sharp pain pinched his back. Shit, can’t stop moving.

He leapt a third time and yelled savagely at the swarm. He swung and smashed through a dense group, flinging them away. Hitting the ground, Erramir paused for the briefest second to stomp two and jumped again.

As he left the ground, a pinch of pain erupted from another spot on his back. Damnit, they’re fast. His health ticked down and then ticked back up as his natural regeneration kicked in. Okay, I can do this. Just need to avoid collecting stowaways.

Taking aim as he descended, Erramir landed on a pair, one under each foot. The violent force of his impact shot scalla goo out from both feet. He stomped one more and leapt.

Near the peak of his arc, as his shield crunched through the swarm, pain erupted in yet another spot in the middle of his back.

His health dropped, and then his regen kicked it back up, but not all the way this time. When it ticked down again, it fell a touch further.

Fuck! Why isn’t my damn armor working!

Erramir hit the ground again, feet pulping another two scallas, and immediately sprang back into the air without pause. He didn’t feel any new bites that time. So, he kept this up, landing and jumping without sparing a single moment for extra kills.

The frenzied technique didn’t allow him to aim his landings well. So most times, he landed and leapt again without smashing any of the stunned creatures.

Worse, an occasional scalla was still managing to latch onto him, and the damage was starting to stack up. Soon his health dipped below three quarters and continued to slowly drop.

Each blood-sucking passenger was indicated in a long row of blinking blood drops below his health bar. A new lance of pain shot from his lower back, and another crimson icon appeared, beginning a second row below the first.

Working his way around the cavern with each leap, Erramir tried to stay close to the swarm edge without being swallowed within it. The bloodsuckers were fast, though, and he could hardly lose the screeching cloud that circled him.

He tried to move faster, too quickly for them to grab him–but it wasn’t enough. His health dropped below half, and the bar turned orange.

Fuck! I need help. He chanced a glance back at Val and Carson.

Immediately he could see that Val’s idea was working. Her hands were a blur as they mimed spinning, grabbing, and spinning again while Virg, a dozen yards away, remotely followed her motions in the tunnel entrance.

The staff spun like an airplane propeller and ate through the second swarm with incredible efficiency. Some got through around the edges, but not many, and he didn’t see any around his friends.

That’s good. I must be pulling the escapees into this swarm.

The tunnel around Virginwood was splattered on all sides with the wings and guts of the nightmarish flying rodents. The sight made him smile. But the technique depended upon the tunnel acting as a funnel to feed them into the whirling staff. It wouldn’t be much help saving Erramir out in the wide-open room, even if Val did prematurely pull Virg from the tunnel entrance.

He saw that Carson had the distortion of essence swirling about his arms and hands. It concentrated, then organized into a pattern between his palms. Carson raised his hands above his head and threw the energy forward and down like he was slamming something into the ground.

Nothing seemed to happen, and Carson refocused for another attempt.

Erramir winched as a sharp pain on the back of his leg announced another hungry commuter on the Erramir shuttle. His health bar was sinking steadily now. Shit! I’m gonna die like this.

He jumped higher and more violently, hoping the sudden acceleration might tear some of the little vampiric suckers free. These are some sincerely super-shitty, sanguine-sucking scallas. He smiled, then shook his head. Stop! No time for that. Focus!

His violent jumping didn’t work to dislodge any Scallas, but no new bites came either. Erramir wasn’t sure if this was because of the technique or if they’d just run out of real estate on his back, so he kept jumping as high and as wildly as he could.

His health bar turned red; it had dipped below one quarter. Judging by the speed it was shrinking, Erramir figured he only had fifteen seconds or so. He jumped again, wracking his brain for some clever idea. Run back into the tunnel… no, that’d get everyone killed. Roll on the ground… no, too slow. Crash into a wall back first… that might work, but it might also knock me out. Fuck!

Just as his silent curse faded, Erramir’s health bar began to flash. As if on cue, his gut twisted into a pretzel as it forced him to remember. A little icon flashed at the top of his vision. Drakkenwood Skin! Yes!

Desire to activate his racial armor slammed home. The little icon turned solid, and the sensation of black scales turning out of his skin rippled down from the top of his head like oversized goosebumps.

It prickled his neck then rapidly spread over his back. The line of little flashing blood drop icons disappeared in a blink, leaving only two, which winked out an instant later as the scales covered down his legs.

Wait, there were two on the back of my legs? He didn’t remember feeling the second bite. It didn’t matter; he grinned manically. Now he had armor that worked.

Erramir hit the ground and started running about the cavern, yelling and crushing the bloodsuckers that hadn’t recovered from one of his earlier bounding sweeps.

He did this while continuing to blindly wave his shield about over his head. He wasn’t hitting as many Scallas this way, but he was also killing a bunch of the dazed ones. Best of all, their fangs were utterly ineffective at piercing his armored skin.

Erramir decided he could spare a moment for some celebratory alliteration. So, as he ran, yelling, swinging his shield, and stomping on dazed Scallas, he worked out something fun. When ready, Erramir belted it out with a poetic cadence.

“Smarten up, scallas. Your sucking is seriously stumped. Swarm or scatter, it’s simply secondary, for your smarmy, serial, sanguine slurping is sunk. I’m sincerely steamed, so I’m starting a squishing spree. And I shall not cease swinging, stomping, and squashing until every single sibilant shithead still soaring is smote!”

He smiled and laughed while swinging and squishing. A glance over at his friends showed that they’d either not heard or were just too busy to acknowledge his lyrical brilliance.

“Alright! I think I’ve got something!” Carson called from the mouth of the tunnel. “Err, get into the center of the cavern. When I say, drop onto the ground and cover yourself with your shield!”

Erramir wasn’t sure he liked that plan–it sounded like Carson had created an area of effect spell, and he wanted Erramir in the middle of it.

He did not break for the center. “That sounds an awful lot like you want them grouped up for an AOE attack!”

“Exactly!” Carson yelled back. “Come on! What the fuck are you doing? Get them in the fragging middle!”

“Not sure I like this plan!” Erramir shouted. “Second law of dungeon diving is pretty clear, bro!”

“Forget about it! The second law does not account for the magical genius of Carson Stix!”

Erramir paused for a half step and made a solid, aimed shield swing through the swarm. Resulting in a satisfying spray of scallas. “Stix?” Erramir hollered. “Like the eighties rock band?”

“For fucks sake, Err! Do it! These buggers are starting to notice me!” Carson’s shout was on the edge of panic.

That got Erramir’s attention­–the entire dungeon dive would be on life support if Carson died. “On it! Please don’t kill meee!”

He angled toward the center, jumping again, roaring wildly through each arcing leap. On his second inward spiraling leap, his mindless yelling suddenly felt different. More intentional and powerful. The swarm responded, becoming frantic and dense, blocking out his view of anything by their black scaled bodies.

After a final bounding leap, the warrior-tank landed in what he judged to be the center. Carson apparently agreed. “Give it your highest jump!” he shouted. “Then immediately collapse and cover yourself!”

Erramir didn’t waste any more time. “Jumping now!” He exploded as high as his tired legs would allow. It was an impressive jump, and his head peeked from the top of the swarm for the first time. The hive pulsed up with him, and he screamed at them.

Just as he started to drop, Erramir’s eye caught a swirl of essence beginning to solidify above him close to the cavern ceiling. His eyes went wide as he willed gravity to work faster. “Arrahh… ohhhhh shit!”

His feet hit, and he crumpled to the ground on top of them, falling sideways and curling up in a fetal position while jerking the big shield over his body. He thought little thoughts and strained to become the best mollusk possible. Almost instantly, his shield was hammered by a torrent of projectiles.

Erramir cursed Carson. The second law was explicit–Get the hell out of AOE. Laying down in the middle seemed a pretty clear violation.

That said, Erramir thanked all the Saints, Hindu Gods, and the Buda he’d chosen one of the most massive shields in the armory.

What the hell is he dropping on me!? It felt like a fleet of baseball pitching machines were suspended from the cavern roof and unloading on full auto and maximum speed.

He braced the shield with both hands, his shoulder, his hip, and his knee, pulling it down with all his strength. Even then, when a projectile hammered an edge, it still threatened to tilt up and expose some part of his body.

The torrent continued, hammering him relentlessly. The damn scallas only had a handful of health, yet this barrage was enough to fell a family of the ice elementals. Before long, his arms started to ache from the strain of holding back the constant pounding.

“Thaatttttss ennoooggghhh Carrrsoonnn!” he screamed in desperation, hoping his voice could carry over the riot. A moment later, the deadly rain stopped abruptly.

Relaxing his full body brace of the shield, Erramir tried to poke his head out, only to hit stone. He attempted to extend his legs, finding that too impossible. He was surrounded on all sides.

Pushing his shield off, he sat up, and found himself in an Erramir-shaped depression centered in a fifty-foot-wide, foot-deep pile of golf-ball-sized rocks.

“What–the–fuck, was that?!”