Reuben Frost

“Alright, this is gonna suck!” he called out to himself and anyone listening. “We’ve got fuck all to really hurt this dead bitch, so damage ain’t the focus. Porsha and Francisco, we’re gonna dance with the monster. Keep it from threshing through our people like wet wheat. Soren and Vihaan, do whatcha can. I have more faith in you doing damage than us.”

His scouting pupils nodded agreement right away before spreading out to either side of him. They would shift so they could make the Dead Thing the monkey in the middle. Where hopefully it would be forced to stay. Soren saluted and began to concentrate on his ivory gun. Red particles began to swirl within the orb. Vihaan was a little stiff, but smiled at Reuben. An arrow of sunlight was already formed in the bow. Everyone moved to their logical positions.

They only had a moment of terrible nervous waiting before the Ratsin was free. The crumbling came to an end and the Dead Thing landed in a clatter of bones on stone. The red tendrils of its hateful aura squirmed menacingly. Reuben could feel the stinging heat of the monster’s loathing for life on his skin. Cold sweat rolled down his neck at being up close and personal. The monster took up his whole view. A specter of death made tragically factual to his mind. The fear was very real, but the scout refused the impulse. He needed only to remember the people behind him to square his shoulders and jaw.

He leaped forward, with a mace and sword in hand. His Form shuttered as Rueben tried to force it into a different purpose. Its ability to cloak him from perception was of limited use in this fight. Especially if he was to act as a roadblock. So, desperately, the scout shifted it for his current needs. The sudden change was difficult for him to find the right mindset, but as the monster loomed closer the need snapped it in place.

A misty film fell over the scout and in that instant, he began moving faster. As if there was less friction in the world, but his feet were still planting solidly with each step. Reuben swept into the range of the beast, weapons flashing it. The effect was interesting. His mace crunched easily into the jaw of the Dead Thing and even the flat of his blade swung more as a distraction had contact on an arm. Bones shards scattered and the Ratsin countered. But, it completely missed him. He blinked in surprise at the scene and smiled while backing up.

Ok, that’s cool! thought Reuben. Works just like I hoped. Hard to hit when you aren't sure where something is! The Form clouded a foe’s perception. Making an accurate hit that much harder. During the celebrating retreat, his pupils stepped in to nibble at the heels. The Dead Thing couldn’t be allowed to surge too far forward. Their attacks swung the beast’s attention so they could direct it away from the chased scout.

The Dead Thing reared up to swat at Porscha, but a piece of daylight burned through the air. Vihaan’s shot landed squarely in the socket of the monster’s skull. An explosion of the sun’s fury burst out of the head. Fire danced out of both sockets and the porous jaw. It hissed angrily and lurched towards the archer.

Soren appeared brazenly close, firing three shots in quick succession at the back of the skeletal monster. All three bolts impacted the spine at different points. The Mana of the shots appeared to boil and scorch the bone. When the dark red light faded, the spine was badly fused together. The Dead Thing whipped around on the gunman, but the loss of flexibility tripped it up. It collapsed to the ground, damaging its own already fractured bones. The Ratsin shrieked while clunkily standing back up. A mighty red beam came from the magic gun, cutting across the Dead Thing’s wrists and ankles. Three of them were in the energy’s path, only one wrist escaping. The monster crumpled to the ground again as its limbs slid apart at the sever points.

Rage. The ground trembled under Reuben’s feet as the Ratsin slammed the stone over and over in a wild tantrum. Tendrils of the hateful aura lashed outwards at random. Wide swings made it almost impossible and the scout took several lashings despite his best efforts. There was little force behind them, but as they passed through the body a paralyzing sting stunned you. One hit often perpetuated more. All three melee fighters were forced to retreat to escape the bite.

In the opening caused by the thrashing aura, the Dead Thing rebuilt itself. The dreadful beast presented that its skeleton could be rearranged in any form. A show of body control and strength shattered its own spine into shards. With those pieces, formed a serpentine body. The leg bones acted as a base. It rose up on a long tail of bone splinters, one arm whole, and the other had a hand floating vaguely near the melted wrist. The baneful aura flashed outwards in an explosion as the Ratsin hissed triumphantly into the air.

“Aaagh,” cried Reuben as the pain escaped through his clenched teeth. The wave of hate passed through the whole impromptu party and he could hear them all cry out too. When the scout got his focus back, he slammed his arm into the waiting jaws. The Dead Thing had charged him. Only quick reflexes saw that the hate would be injected into the arm rather than his throat. He growled at the rat bastard and brought the mace into play. The scorched skull caved in around the eye socket. It was kind enough to unlatch with a hiss as it whipped away.

As a parting gift, the tail of bone shards roiled his way. Clenching his bleeding arm Rueben tried to leap over and away. His foot caught on part of the passing tail, causing the scout to twirl in the air from the force of the attack. He landed in a painful tangle of limbs. With, of course, the damaged arm at the bottom of the pile. Groaning, he was quite sure it was broken now too. He slumped upwards, not feeling confident, but holding his mace in the good hand.

The Dead Thing was rampaging. After crippling the scout, the monster turned on Francisco. A bony hand crashed into him, talons piercing the thigh and shoulder. Then using its momentum to launch the man into the wall of the tunnel. He was out cold before slithered past and pounced on Porsha. She did her best. The disembodied hand came first, launched ahead of the horror. Her blades and feet worked perfectly to deflect the claw away.

There the good times came to an end. The bulk of the beast arrived and tackled her. A spray of blood as Porsha tried to roll to safety. The tail snatched around her leg and slammed the woman into the stone floor. Vihaan and Soren stormed in like they were the cavalry. An ill-fated one. Streaks of furious sunlight and bolts of red plasma flew at the Dead Thing. The flurry of shots was enough to direct the monster away from the bleeding scouts, but now it was focused on those two. The red aura flared and it burst forward.

Bones clattered against each other as it moved. The Dead Thing barreled down on the two range fighters. Leon saved the moment by casting a barrier to snap over the monster. A perfect sphere that wobbled and cracked as the wrathful creature slammed into the sudden wall. Heals rained down on the wounded and they all fell back while it was contained. The Ratsin raged against the slowly cracking sphere. Their moment of peace was quickly running out. Reuben desperately looked around for a combat acolyte. The five of them just weren’t enough to put it down or hold it back for long.

His eyes scanned, but found nothing promising. They could maybe hold out with continued healing, but it looked like a great risk to the scout. The wily Dead Thing had only wounded them so far, but it could easily become worse. Thinking it through over the tinkle of glass, Reuben thought, The blind rage of that thing keeps it from being more precise. All it takes is a lucky swipe. Not to mention, the quick healing they dropped on us isn’t perfect. My arm is still useless and the hate infection as well… Damn, it’s only a matter of time before we’re ground up. We need a miracle.

They got a curse. The sound of glass shattering alerted them the rat thing was free. It curled up hatefully and gave them a contemptuous look. Propped up on the tail and illuminated by the aura, the Dead Thing looked like an evil god about to do launch. There was a tremble in his arm, but Rueben forced the mace up and ready. The other four followed suit with the same troubled look.

“Not today!” roared a voice in a flash of white light. A figure in armor leaped to the side of the Dead Thing and brought down a bold blow. The sword in hand surged with white Mana that aggressively opposed the baneful aura. White and red clashing as the Ratsin was driven back. One sword slash became many as they relentlessly attacked. Reuben noted as his eyes adjusted that the rat thing was giving as good as it got. Just that a second figure moved in the wake of the first, defending and shutting down the monster’s counters.

“Is that Hector and… Phelain?” asked Rueben, surprised. “Well shit, let’s get in there… rude not to, yeah?” All five of them rushed to join the onslaught, melee to the flanks and range taking diagonal points to avoid friendly fire.

The scout wanted to say their support helped, but at best they were a distraction that helped Phelain fight more freely. He wasn’t sure where the power surge had come from, though it was welcome. Very quickly the Dead Thing was diminished. Three scouts acted like blockers keeping the monster in front of Phelain. The bone tail was smashed and scattered. Soren’s shots made sure it wouldn’t reform, melting all attempts. A constant stream of sunlit arrows kept plinking on top of the arisen warrior’s unflinching charge. Every slash planted white fire that scoured the red aura. Tendrils of hate wilted in the purifying flames.

Under their combined assault, the Dead Thing was defeated. The hateful aura died out and what bits left began to disintegrate. Soon a red core would form. Reuben gave a sigh of relief and enthusiastically patted Phelain on the back. “Alright! That was some fine damn work, buddy!” cheered the scout. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Sounding a little dreamily, the arisen warrior answered, “Well you know… not sure… just didn’t seem right. Those things, ruinous bastards… and I couldn’t allow it anymore. It came up from here and I knew…” Phelain’s eyes rolled up before he could finish his ramble. Reuben dipped to grab him when the man’s legs went loose, but Hector was there long before the threat of a fall got real. The shield-wielder looked down at his partner with a mix of pride and worry.

“Right… maybe an explanation later,” smirked the scout. “Let’s get looked at and maybe offer some help elsewhere.” Together they rejoined the main group so the healers could be more thorough. The battles were finishing up, but the danger wasn’t over yet.

John Harken

Malachi and Julia charged ahead while Harken slowed to stand next to Damian. Two flares of violet and golden-white light as they prepared their spells. The priestly man cast a spell for defense and half-spoke one for healing. From the obsidian acolyte, spears of violet energy appeared and fell like bolts tossed by the gods. The first one drilled through the heart of the Dead Thing as the two melee fighters arrived. More was coming.

Clarissa added her own touch to the fight. Laughter like a child at a fair while she targeted joints on the Ratsin. Explosive green arrows launched with accuracy to win any carnival target game. Between the arrows and spells, the Dead Thing was pinned in place. Its mobility was severely checked. This made the entrance of the shieldmaiden and sword acolyte very easy. They slipped in under the monster’s guard to unleash their might.

A Fire Blast began the melee assault. The spell exploded on the Ratsin’s leg, more kinetic force than heat. It fell forward as the bones of the limb shattered. While falling, the beast lurched towards Malachi, but Julia was there. Her shield blunted the attack and her sword removed the offending hand. Violet and green projectiles rained down on the prone Dead Thing. When it tried to scramble away, the sword acolyte cast his barrier of spears to hold the monster in place to take the punishment.

Like gardeners pruning weeds, Malachi and Julia worked around the monster slicing off pieces. They took the time to scatter the damaged part so that Damian would dissolve the chunks before the Dead Thing called them back. It was tiring work, but the progress was clear. Harken almost felt a little useless watching. He was here in case of trouble and his team had their monster on ropes.

As the red flames of hate flickered out, dread sunk into the priestly man’s heart. The sensation came with a wave of premonition. It felt almost like when the visions had been thrust upon him, but if Harken was precise it felt more aligned to his Foresight spell. The moment he thought that the feeling clarified. In this moment of insight, he realized that the spell had cast itself.

The world sped up before his eyes. Malachi and Julia looked down upon the ruin of their foe. Once sure of its demise, they backed towards the rest of the Sixty. A shadow fell upon them. It landed first on Julia in a spray of blood. An instant later the shade’s hand punched through Malachi’s chest and back. His spell fluttered as the shrouded monster charged forward.

“O’ god!” gasped Harken as his sight returned to the present. He wasn’t drained like the first time, but his Mana was low. Worse was the nausea, but he didn’t have time for that. The priestly man knew he had seconds to react. His words echoed over the murmurs of battle.

“Purpose Unhalted,

Remove Thyself Foe,

Leave The Flock Unharmed,

Shepard’s Wrath!”

A beam of furious light shot from Harken’s staff. He was very careful in his aim so that it slammed into Julia’s raised shield. The short woman was thrown several feet in surprise. Malachi whipped around to Harken with a shout of whys and protest. The priestly man roared in response, “Look up!”

Confused, but still a little trusting, the sword acolyte did. His face of horror was all the confirmation Harken needed that the danger was real. In the ruffles of the stone ceiling, a monster of some kind hung waiting. There was no aura of red nor any azure glow. The shadows seemed to cling to it as the thing looked down on them. A strange sound like a poor attempt to breathe cut through the fallen silence.

Malachi dove out of the way as the shade leaped down from the ceiling. It immediately followed after their leader. Blood red claws slashed before it, forcing the sword acolyte to meet them with his sword. Harken noted that the monster’s form was very humanoid. The shadow battled like a human would with daggers or claw weapons.

It shifted and shimmed like a gymnast as the monster got closer to slicing up Malachi with long thin talons. A powerful thrust came and the sword acolyte allowed it through on his right. His sword was unable to keep up under the pressure and surprise. He kept moving forward as the claws closed in. Turning around once past to see that the monster stood still. It was studying the claws with a posture that was obviously curiosity to the eye even shrouded. Spinning face-first to stare at their leader, the thing caught a look of the missing arm as the cloak settled.

“Hak, Hak, Hak!” came the sound from the shadowed thing. Harken wondered, worried that it might be laughter. Malachi, however, grinned and stepped to the side. A barrage of Star Shot rocketed by him into the distracted shade. It was pushed back a couple of steps and the shadows surrounding it shattered.

The monster revealed was a skinny thing covered in ancient fur, white and yellowed. So pale that you were able to see the leather-dried flesh beneath. Skin hung loose on an emaciated form that seemed impossible to have ever fit together. Harken could not say what was worse: the contours of the face or the empty eye sockets where bloody light shimmered in an endless abyss. Each was horrible in their own ways. The former was far too abominably human while the latter seemed like a peek into the heart of evil.

It grinned at them with sharp yellow fangs, the emotions there disturbingly clear. A lazy throwing gesture was pointed at Damian. A black cloud flew faster than the eye into the obsidian acolyte. They began to scream immediately. Violet Mana rose up in defense, but the darkness was everywhere already. Harken moved to empower with his own Mana, but kept an eye on the others.

Clarissa raised her bow, but it was not to be. The pale thing tilted its head backward and reached outwards with a hand. When the terrible hand slammed shut, the archer’s bow exploded in a flash of black and green. She screamed, more in anger than pain. The monster turned to Malachi and pointed a single finger. Thrusting several times to make a point.

You, only you, thought Harken with a shudder.

Julia roared when she got the message, “Fuck that!” The shieldmaiden charged sword and shield gleaming with dark blue Mana. It let her in close before bashing aside her attacks. One hand grabbed the throat and the other sunk into the side. The pale thing sneered at Malachi with a raised eyebrow.

The anger on their bearded leader was clear, but as calmly as possible he nodded. That sound that could be laughter strangled the air. Causally, it tossed Julia behind themselves into Clarissa. The archer had been sneaking up, a spiky green hand of Mana ready.

It strode forward eagerly to meet Malachi.