WM [27] If We’re Lucky, They’ll Kill Each Other

WM [27] If We’re Lucky, They’ll Kill Each Other

Bjorn continued to follow the perimeter of the druid’s barrier. The perimeter was marked with trees and bushes, and now that he was amongst them, he could make out the faintest hint of magic. From the outside of the barrier, everything inside was just more dark forest. From the inside, looking out, one could see the forest beyond as it was. Once he was a good enough distance from the point he entered, he laid down to finally get a good look at himself.

He was covered in arrows and bleeding wounds. Some of the places where he had pulled out the arrows were healed, but there were just so many that his healing factor couldn’t keep up. He looked at his other heads. He could move the necks, but his control wasn’t nearly as good. The arrows that pierced each skull were different from all others and were coated in something that prevented regeneration. The arrow itself looked odd. It was covered in black barbs that faced every possible direction.

“This is going to suck,” Bjorn said in his head.

“It actually didn’t feel too bad, but to keep you from going into shock, your body cut a lot of your pain receptors. I think it is a hydra thing. Not many creatures have more than one brain.”

If they hit all three at the same time, would I have died?” Bjorn asked.

“I don’t think so, but it would have made us defenseless until they killed us.”

Bjorn positioned his middle head in a way that he could reach the arrow lodged in it. His hands weren’t meant for fine motor control, and he could pull the arrow out with his mouth. The problem was that he needed to careful not to get any of the substance coating the arrow in his mouth. Bjorn bit down on a stick and mentally counted to three. There was a yank and a squelch as the arrow, bone, blood, and a bit of grey matter were pulled free.

There was some pain, but not as much as Bjorn expected. He was more worried about bleeding out, so he quickly went to the second arrow and pulled that put one too. He was quickly feeling lightheaded and was unable to put together enough thought to activate his magic. Fear started to set in as he recognized the feeling of death creeping in.

His mind went back to the last moments of his previous life. The final moments of Isin, the Son of Bazaath, the King of Chains. The memory was so lucid and tangible that it was as if everything else was pushed aside.

***

All he saw around him was fire. Isin stood above the chaos, looking out over the city from some type of control room. The kingdom before him was a delicate mix of aetheric technology and ancient magics far older. Buildings once crafted from gleaming metal and enchanted stone crumbled under the assault of an unknown foe.

Isin didn’t know who dared to cross him now. He left no enemies behind; there was no great foe he had not buried in his rise. Yet there was a deep ache gnawing at his soul with something he had not known since he was a child: fear. His suit blared with incoming calls from his generals and his soldiers. He saw the icons of their faces dim as they fell in combat one after the other.

He stood from his throne and walked to the open floor-to-ceiling window. He could feel the heat from the explosions and sense the aether quake in agony as untold thousands perished; their cries echoed throughout the city. Regret and terror surged through him, a potent cocktail that threatened to break his resolve. He realized too late the true cost of his actions and the depth of his failures. The kingdom, once a beacon of hope and innovation, would be brought to ruin because of him, and he was powerless to stop it.

“No. Not like this,” he said to himself as he removed the visor over his face.

Name: Cassian Strider

Species: Werewolf

Level: ??

Vocation: Beastborn Archer

Identify

Name: Leander Strider

Species: Werewolf

Level: ??

Vocation: Beastborn Berserker

Identify

Name: Isolde Strider

Species: Werewolf

Level: ??

Vocation: Beastborn Ancestral Shaman

As he looked over the pack of, apparently werewolves, a race he had never heard of before, he noted that although he couldn’t see their levels, something about Alaric screamed danger. They were all in hide armors that looked too large for their frames. Every member was a living canvas of tribal tattoos that snaked across every inch of their skin. It made the presence of the pack even more menacing. It took only a few moments for them to recognize that they had just walked into something much larger than they had anticipated.

The monsters continued to rip up and eat the plants that contained even the smallest amount of magic, the lights that flooded the clearing flickered. Everyone had seconds to decide what they were going to do before the druids opened fire with their magic. Roots erupted from the ground, impaling monsters and attempting to strike the agile werewolves. Spells flew through the air, their colorful arcs illuminating the chaos. The werewolves, however, moved with an unnatural grace, evading the attacks with ease. The monsters lunged at anything that moved, their grotesque features twisted in rage.

Things rapidly devolved into a three-way battle that none of the groups were particularly happy to be a part of, well the monsters didn’t seem to mind. Then something Bjorn did not expect at all happened. The werewolves started to turn into hulking humanoid wolf-men. The name of their species and too large clothing suddenly made a lot more sense, but any decision that would have led Bjorn to jump into the fray to try to save the wendigo stopped dead. He saw them tear into the growing horde of monsters and the druid front line with a primal ferocity that, at his current level, would leave him little more than a nuisance.

The druids were not getting slaughtered wholesale, but their weaker members stood little chance. A druid woman, their commander by the look of her, had eyes glowing with green lightning and stood as an immovable pillar. She shot bolts of energy across the field, each striking a deadly dance of destruction. One bolt pierced a wifwolf's chest, creating a hole that continued into the forest, frying several more monsters and starting another forest fire.

“We need to get back to Tanisha. Fuck this!” Bjorn said.

“What about the wendigo that are trapped up there?” Failsafe asked.

“We can’t do anything about that right now,” Bjorn said as he carefully snuck out of the quickly collapsing illusion barrier, “If we are lucky, the druids and werewolves will kill each other, but I have a feeling that if those werewolves see me again, they will chase us down first.”

Bjorn's eyes flicked at the arrows he had pulled from his other skulls. They were covered in his blood but also coated with a substance that slowed his regeneration. He placed both arrows in his carrier satchels and then made himself scarce. He kept himself low to the ground as the sound of battle behind him only intensified.

Once he was sure he was far enough away, he sprinted through the forest, his three heads swiveling to watch for any signs of pursuit. Confident in his speed, he pushed himself even harder, not knowing the full extent of what werewolves were capable of. He redoubled his pace until he was a blur amongst the foliage, his heart pounding with elation from his escape. But for now, he focused on getting back to Tanisha and planning their next move.