Chapter Three Hundred And Seventy Five – 375

Chapter Three Hundred And Seventy Five – 375

Stone Shaping is level 78!

Extended from the dun-colored bluffs that the Warren was built into, Felix had formed squat structures that ran alongside the skeleton. Mostly they were walls, curved up and designed to block as much of the savage wind as they could. The rest were choke points around the more wide-open sections of the blackened Leviathan skeleton, where his people could fight if needed. He wasn't an architect or an expert on fortifications, but he did his best in the time they had.

"Back! Back! I want a line of defenders here and here!" Darius shouted, pointing at places in Felix's impromptu structures.

"No archers until we see how this hits!" Harn bellowed right behind the Hand. "Henaari! Focus on spear work and maintain distance!"

The shaman and Atar and even that Palis woman had been clear about what was coming. The storm, the Cursewinds, were harbingers of the desert's worst foes and no one was taking it lightly.

The stormfront was far larger than Felix had anticipated. From an indeterminate distance, it had seemed simply massive, stretching across a portion of the horizon and blocking the flare of the rising sun. Yet as it roared toward themquite literally too, according to their Affinitiesthe Cursewinds proved itself thousands of feet wide and as tall as any skyscraper Felix had seen. The sheer presence of it filled Felix's senses, a behemoth of wind and sand and death.

When the storm hit, it hit Felix's fortifications first.

Sand scoured them first, like a roaring curtain of miniature hail. Shields were raised and Skills were used, but the sands tore into them mercilessly. Not even Felix's shaped defenses were immune as the stormwall passed, the thickest and most intense portion of the tempest. They were scratched and pitted by the relentless assault. Felix was only thankful no one had taken undue damage from it; his protections had worked.

"Arclight!" Darius bellowed over the howling winds. The stormwall passed them, but the winds from within the sandstorm were gale-force at the very least. "Send first volley!"

Mages all along their impromptu battlements raised their hands, ensconced behind shaped fortifications and the upright slats of Leviathan bone. Blue-white lightning kindled in their palms, Mana Gates spewing out flickers of condensed power as every mage in their company shot out a spell. It was the most minor of spells, the lightning version of Sparkbolt, yet intimidating in number if not potency. Still, the spells were caught by the Cursewind after traveling about ten feet, twisting them astray until they were snuffed out entirely.

"Keep all magic close! The winds will skew your aim!" Harn bellowed. "Be ready! They're here!"

From his own, higher vantage, Felix watched as the boiling hurricane spewed torrents of sand. Among the sand, riding atop the winds itself, desiccated warriors with rusted armor and broken weaponry appeared. They dropped to the earth, landing on walls and sandy dunes, dozens at first and more on the way. The moment they touched down, their eyes swiveled toward Felix and his people, and a blackened green limned them in hissing light.

"Undead! Brace!"

The creatures charged, flailing their ragged bodies toward them all. Felix squinted through the winds, and activated his Eye.

Voracious Eye!

Name: Dustwight

Type: Undead

Level: 39

HP: 0/0

SP: 3412/3422Ñøv€l--ß1n hosted the premiere release of this chapter.

MP: 1189/1189

Lore: Undead are once living creatures bound by necromantic Mana to the Will of another. Some monsters use necromantic Mana in the natural course of their lives, though they are hunted avidly when found. In either case, such creatures do not have any Health, instead suffering all damage to their vast Stamina. When their Stamina is reduced to nothing, only then can they be killed for good.

Strength: More Data Required

She nodded at a brightly feathered kingfisher that had appeared in the room. It was her familiar or something, named Keru, and it hopped once atop the window sill. Felix pursed his lips but nodded. She left moments later.

Felix didn't like it, but Zara had a point. Either of them could have ended this fight quickly, but so long as his people weren't in imminent danger this was a great chance for them to grow, even Pit and the rest of his team. Felix had been tempted to cull the Dustwights' numbers before, but with his team chipping in there was no need. Already the undead had stopped crowding as much, fleeing his people even as they were whittled down to more manageable numbers.

Training. Hm.

Hours passed as Felix sat within his Stone Shaped chamber near the Leviathan's sternum, watching as the waves of undead thinned but never faltered. More came, as if the storm carried an endless supply. He wondered at that, in fact, as the Dustwights came raining down from the sky. Were the Cursewinds just a way to transport undead across the Expanse? Why? What was the point, other than mayhem and violence? He could feel the Primordial's eerie Intent all around him now, present but not overwhelming, but there was no meaning behind it. It simply felt...instinctual. Like it needed whatever this happened to be, whatever function the Cursewinds served. He'd put the question to Zara, dragging her back up to his outpost, but she'd professed that it was one of the many mysteries of the Continent.

"Greater Minds than my own have attempted to unravel the Scorched Expanse's deadly secrets, but none have succeeded. Few, in fact, ever returned from such inquiries," she had said before vanishing below once again.

Danger and more danger. Felix drummed his fingers on the bone next to him. A withering Primordial and a vast desert of tireless guardians, hunting down anyone crossing the Expanse. It's a wonder anyone bothers to come into this desert at all, though Zara had claimed to be surprised at the knowledge of a Primordial here. Had it not been active before? He thought on the Dustborn Wraiths, on what the Prioress had said. They'd never seen the Wraiths before. So does that mean something woke this Primordial up?

He groaned.

What are the odds that it was this other Unbound?

Felix didn't like how likely that felt, considering his own history. For now, it was speculation though.

The battle still raged as midday approached. The undead were seemingly tireless, but his people were not. The Legionnaires were swapped out in groups to let them stay fresh, but the groups were kept relatively small. Darius claimed it increased the stress and tension within the fighters, giving them a greater chance to advance their Skills or even learn new ones. Felix would have called bullshit on that, if Harn hadn't agreed. Felix knew stress increased the rewards from battle, but increasing it on purpose felt perverse.

He could not, however, deny its effectiveness. The dulcet tones of Skill ups and level gains reached Felix even over the roar of the Cursewinds, while the collective Spirit of his people rose to shattering crescendos with every passing hour. They were exhausted and bleeding, but there was a joy there, baked into their collective strain and conflict with the undead.

Felix found his own joy along the way, focusing on his lesser used Skills and attempting to push them in new directions. He Eyed everyone he could see, watching the Dustwights as they fought and died. All of them had the same information, plus or minus a few levels and Stamina totals. What benefited however, was the updates to their Strengths and Weaknesses.

Name: Dustwight

...

Strength: Movement and normal attacks do not use Stamina, and Stamina recovers rapidly when not in combat.

Weakness: Agility is low as is their Perception. Strength is tied to remaining Stamina.

Voracious Eye is level 80!

Mostly obvious things, but he passed the knowledge down to his commanders Harn and Darius to use as best they could. Every little bit helped. Even the Leviathan skeleton was useful, as the pressure they all felt was apparently far worse on the undead.

Any that came closer than twenty feet were at some point afflicted by a Status Condition called Forbiddance. It slowed their movements just a tad, manifesting as a haze around their limbs that ebbed and flowed into the visual spectrum. It grew in strength the closer they drew to the skeleton, but Felix hadn't had a chance to see if it'd stop them from entering. The Henaari, Risi, or Legion would kill them before that ever happened.

Things were going pretty well, all things considered. Everyone was tired and aching, and Felix was a little bored, but they were doing it. The Legion was cooperating or at least following orders. It was looking up.

Which of course was when the battlefield exploded.

Ice and fire burst, ripping through ranks of the undead and shattering one of his weakened walls. Felix surged to his feet, eyes panning the scene, only to land on the ice-burned epicenter...where Evie and Atar writhed on the ground, screaming as Mana boiled in and out of both of them. A set of brassy horns, crashing cymbals, and rolling timpanis tore into his Mind and Spirit.

"Felix!" Vess yelled. She stood closer to him and jabbed at their friends with her spear. "They're Tempering!"