Chapter 80: Chatty Mimicry

Chapter 80: Chatty Mimicry

If I had to play ‘Marry, Fuck, Kill’ with my active abilities, Oblivion Orb is the skill I’d marry. It was reliable, flexible, affordable, and it got the job done when things needed to get dead.

Shortcut is the skill I’d fuck.

I teleported out of the three-armed clutches of the mimic, appearing atop the burial slab of the room’s central corpse. My boot knocked his skull to the side, the gleaming gem along his forehead sliding to his temple. It glittered and swirled in response. I whispered a quick apology to the gentleman while surveying the state of my party members.

Varrin was laying into a series of lancing spikes that had grown from the wall, their hard tips attached to knotted, organic limbs. He parried and evaded with inhuman speed, spinning his greatsword overhead and bringing the momentum down on the softer bits, severing the spikes. When they hit the ground, the spikes squirmed and then melted into the floor. He was keeping pace with the attacks, but I doubted he was doing much damage.

A mouth as wide as a sofa had opened at Etja’s feet, its flat teeth clacking together as it bulged out from the ground. The golem escaped by casting her gravity magic, darting halfway up to the ceiling. She was now establishing air superiority by raining death beams down on the various limbs and facial features sprouting from all surfaces of the room.

Xim’s scepter was covered in crimson flame, and she shield-bashed a groping hand away, then connected with her weapon, setting it ablaze. Her martial prowess wasn’t near the level of Varrin’s, however, and she was becoming overwhelmed by the attacking appendages.

A few of the grasping limbs around the room had gone limp, golden arrows piercing their forms, and the face on the wall that had been speaking with us hung lifeless, an arrow protruding from one of its aberrant eyes. I spotted a shadow dart out from one of the corpse-filled alcoves, Nuralie diving out of cover as the entire recess exploded into thrusting spikes.

I processed the situation and took action.

I cast the spell Life Warden on Etja to shore up her defenses, and a thin layer of dimensional distortion coated Etja’s exposed skin. It was the only new active skill that I’d been willing to commit to over the last year.

Life Warden

Physical/Dimensional

Cost: 10 mana reserved plus 10 mana per hour

Cooldown: None

Requirements: Physical Magic 10, Dimensional Magic 10

Grant a nearby ally the buff “Life Warded”. Any time a Life Warded ally would take physical or dimensional damage, you take half of that damage instead. The damage you receive in this way is reduced by 1 for each level of your Physical Magic skill, but cannot otherwise be reduced or negated by any means other than natural resistance or immunity. Life Warded allies must remain within a number of feet of you equal to 20 plus your Dimensional Magic skill level to sustain this effect, or within the range of an aura skill originating from you and by which the Life Warded ally is affected, whichever is larger.

It was the only skill that I’d gotten through diligent research, rather than circumstance or necessity, and by diligent research I mean that it was listed inside a book on auras that Umi-Doo had gifted me. The normal range of the Life Warden skill was too short for the spell to be viable in high-level Delver fights, where battles could sprawl across massive areas. For me, however, the range was as big as my aura, and the range of my aura was, ‘Are they in the party?’

With Etja shielded and cutting through mimic with her anti-magic laser, I turned my attention to the others.

I split off seven slabs of Gracorvus, arranging them into a shield that I willed through the air to Xim’s back, blocking a claw descending on her flank. I sectioned off a part of my brain to direct the shield and give her cover, then leapt off my perch to Nuralie, assembling the rest of Gracorvus into my own shield and activating its atrocidile roar.

An abominable, spectral face launched from the shield’s surface, letting out a bellowing moan like the distorted wailing of desperate children. The limbs and spikes that Nuralie ducked and wove between turned toward me, abandoning their pursuit of the archer-alchemist to batter my defenses with clubs and lances. I blocked what I could and soaked the rest.

With some of the heat taken off of Etja, Xim, and Nuralie, I considered what I could do for Varrin, aside from continuing to allow the mimic clubs to crack me in the ribs, blessing him with a fresh stream of stamina.

Eh, Varrin didn’t need any more help.

I instead focused on trying to figure out a better plan of attack than the reactive melee we presently had going on.

The room was too small for a proper Explosion! without catching my allies in the blast, and I doubted the spell would do much against the mimic, who was immune to physical damage. I also hadn’t advanced enough with Mystical Magic to use Dispel on something as general as an entity’s mana matrix.

Oblivion Orb was my best bet, but there were so many attacking limbs around the room that I didn’t want to fully commit to a melee and get distracted by the few targets in arm’s reach. Fortunately, I had a better way to use the spell. I threw open my inventory screen and started pulling out my new favorite toys with my free hand.

Throwing hammers.

It sounds ridiculous, I know. Believe me, Seinnador–and Lito–told me as much when I commissioned them. Why throw a hammer? A knife, mediocre for throwing reliably at a moving target. An axe was OK but not great for the same reasons, it just had a bit more weight behind it than a knife. A spear or javelin was much better since it was easy to get the pointy end to stick where you wanted it to go. But a hammer? No blade, axehead, or speartip to stab into a target. Without the force and weight of an arm swinging the blunted head, it would hurt, but wouldn’t do much else. Just, why?

Because it’s fucking awesome, that’s why.

I’d raised my Blunt skill high enough to specialize it into hammers, which gave my hammer attacks some pretty serious armor penetration. Further, I had Homing Weapon, which was a technique that did exactly what it sounded like it did, while also adding extra speed and oomph to my weapon throws and returning the weapon to my hand after it hit. Additionally, I had selected an appropriate evolution to my Blunt skill once it reached level ten, which took advantage of my avant-garde build choices.

Hammer Throw: You suffer no penalty for using hammers as a thrown weapon. The maximum speed and distance you can throw a hammer is increased by 10% per level of Blunt.

So, when asked, ‘Why throw a hammer?’ ‘Compounding returns’ is my answer, and coincidentally my new favorite phrase. My Strength was a ten, not as good as Varrin or Xim, but still at the lower end of superhuman. Homing Weapon buffed the speed and force of thrown weapon attacks, which was additive with Strength, but my Hammer Throw evolution was a compounding bonus applied on top of both. Huck a hammer at eighty miles per hour, get another fifty on top from my technique, and then double that from my Blunt skill of ten... that’s a hammer moving at a third of the speed of sound.

He’d use the momentum of a swing to carry his body, touching down for a split second with the ball of his foot before taking the force and applying it to the next raking hand. He’d find a wall, kick off from it to cleave a spike from the ceiling, release his blade with one hand to reach up and push away, adjusting his course to the next wall and taking out two more.

At one point he was entirely upside down, his greatsword spinning in the air before him, until he grabbed the hilt of the weapon and used the energy of its rotation to right himself enough to plant a foot on the ground before he fell from the air. He ended that move by cleaving a face growing beside him down the middle. I don’t even think he needed to cut that one. It had just been watching Varrin with wide eyes, looking as impressed by him as I was.

As Varrin did his clearcutting, more faces began to emerge on the surfaces of the hall. They were identical to the strange ‘woman’ that had spoken to us earlier, its lazy eyes staring us down from all directions. The smiling, drooling mouths began to scream at us as we hurtled past, and between the screams, it spoke.

“Finally! Finally!” it shrieked in Loson’binora. “No more suckling swine clawing at the Delve’s tits! No more feasts for fools! Come! Come!”

The faces contorted and melted away as fast as they appeared, each one speaking only a few words before the next took up the cry.

“Such fine children! So soon, as well! How many generations have come and gone?! How many eons since we saw such haste towards the end?! It has been so long!” Between the shouts were chittering squeals and throaty gags that might have passed for a dying man’s fit of laughter.

“What in the absolute fuck?” I muttered to myself as the faces continued to spout nonsense.

Before long, our group came into a new chamber, one which pulsed and moved like a living creature. The walls, ceiling, and floor were covered by a thousand identical faces. They spoke and laughed and spat and howled. Some looked like they wept, but all of them had eyes fixed on one point–a hole in the center of the room, leading down.

No more limbs grew to attack us, no more gnashing teeth or hungry mouths. Still, I couldn’t help but think of this hole as some sort of throat.

“Go on! Go on!” shouted a face. “It’s the only way to leave!”

We studied the pit, only Varrin brave enough to let his feet touch the face-covered floor. The mimics he stepped on smiled up at him, and the faces seemed to delight in the abuse. It was... weird.

“Why does it always have to be a hole?” Varrin asked, waving at the dark opening. “One where we can’t see the bottom?”

“It’s always down,” I said. “That gives us either a hole or stairs. Holes are quicker.”

“Ladders,” said Nuralie. Pause. “Holes, stairs, or ladders.”

“Sounds like a drinking game,” I said.

“What about a lift?” asked Etja.

“Like an elevator?”

“Yes! You could use an underground river or something to turn a water wheel, and use that to create an elevating or descending platform.”

“We’ll add it to the list,” I said. “Holes, stairs, ladders, and lifts.”

“Now it sounds like a card game,” said Xim.

“Why?!” screamed a face. “Why are you talking?! Go down! Go down!”

I held up a finger to shush the face. Surprisingly, it piped down.

“What do we think?” I asked.

“I’m not staying here,” said Xim, looking around at the faces in annoyance. “If I want to be in a room of countless faces screaming nonsense at me, I can just go home.”

“The objective is to reach the obelisk,” said Varrin, “and then ‘conquer the challenge that awaits us.’” He sighed. “Seems as good a place as any to look for the obelisk room.”

“A hungry giant invites you down its gullet,” I said. “It’s warm inside, and no enemy will ever reach you.”

“Are you quoting something?” asked Xim.

“Nope,” I said. “Just explaining the situation to myself.” I rolled my right shoulder, working out some stiffness. “Alright, let’s go.”

And so we jumped merrily into the belly of the beast.