Mage Tank

Kill the healer.

It was age-old wisdom, passed down from elder homicidal vagrants to their soon-to-be murderhobo progeny. Varrin had probably been laid to bed as a child with cheerful tales of the underdog swordsman turning the tide of battle by expediting the enemy cleric’s journey toward their final destination in the embrace of their god. I expected that Lil’ Var had a colorfully illustrated guide on kill priority right next to his pillow, tucked lovingly next to his wooden toy sword.

Healers were force multipliers, amplifying the well-defended health pools of their armored comrades, dispelling hostile debuffs, and maybe weaving in some control effects of their own. Because of a healer’s investment into mental stats, such as Wisdom, Charisma, and Intelligence, their resilience to damage was usually subpar. If they could be caught out of position and properly burned down in time, killing the healer was almost always worth paying for with a little of your own blood and resources.

While killing the healer was on page 1 of Cloudy With a Chance of TPK, page 2 followed closely with the advice, “Kill the summoner.”

As Death Fly’s spell sent a wave of power through the room, I was faced with a crisis of choice. Nuralie and I had started the fight facing down twice our number in foes, each of whom was graded as a deadly challenge for a Delver 4 levels higher than ourselves. Even with Butterfly taken out of the equation, we were now facing down thrice our number of foes due to Fly’s unopposed introduction of hefty backup. Letting Death Fly do her thing was the price we’d paid to lead Butterfly into the grave. Disappointingly, Death Fly sought to dig that grave right back up before her ally’s corpse had even had time to stop twitching.

The Raise Dead spell sent tendrils of mana through Butterfly’s mangled body, and I had a brief window of opportunity to do something about it. The only hangup was that I had a brief window to do many things. All of these options vied for the number one spot on my list of steps to be taken in the next 3 seconds, lest I perish in painful agony.

Roach charged on blurred wings with her bardiche raised to strike. The Goliath’s thousand-pound body of arcane stone lumbered toward me, fists shimmering with mystic force. The Infernal’s white-hot claws sent shimmers of heat through the air as it drew close enough to rake them across my body. The Wraith returned to its hunt for Nuralie, and Cricket had recovered enough from the poison gas trap to line up another series of lightning arrows on my position.

Being limited by the laws of space and time as I was, I could only react to so many of these things at once. Blocking was generally a solid move in situations like these, but Dispelling was also a tempting choice. Fortunately, Raise Dead was an infamous spell for obvious reasons, so I knew a bit about it.

Raise Dead was one among many skills that would result in dirty looks and nasty rumors should someone catch you using it, although it was not banned outright. I’d made a list of such widely known and legally gray skills, having researched each and every one to ensure that I didn’t slot one out of ignorance and thereby tarnish my reputation as a voguish crusader for life, liberty, and justice. That is unless the skill was actually really good and people were just prejudiced and afraid of what they didn’t understand.

Raise Dead was firmly in the camp of skills I wasn’t interested in. Still, when the notification came up as Fly cast the spell, I didn’t even need to give it a glance.

Raise Dead

Spiritual

Cost: 50 mana reserved

Cooldown: 24 hours

Requirements: Intelligence 30, Spiritual Magic 30

Raise a nearby corpse to fight at your behest as a Raised Dead. Raised Dead are reanimated with a 20% penalty to all stats (minimum score of 1), and with an amount of their maximum health and mana based on the state of the corpse.

You may communicate telepathically with your Raised Dead as long as it is within a number of feet of you equal to your Spiritual Magic level, allowing you to issue orders that it will fulfill to the best of its ability. While outside of this range of telepathic communication, Raised Dead will continue to act out your most recent orders until told otherwise. While Raised Dead lack any semblance of their original personality or will, they retain all skills and abilities they possessed in life and can execute orders with intelligence and strategy. However, certain skills will no longer function–such as those that require the caster to be alive–and Divine abilities may become unavailable if the divinity of the Raised Dead views the undead as profane or otherwise detestable.

While Raised, a corpse will no longer deteriorate naturally, but Raised Dead cannot regenerate health or be healed except through specialized means. Once this spell ends, the targeted corpse may not be Raised again by you or any other. You may only Raise a corpse if its grade or level while it was alive is equal to or lesser than your own level or grade plus the number of evolutions you have in INT. You may have a total number of Raised Dead equal to the number of evolutions you possess in Spiritual Magic.

While I was sure there were ways to ethically source corpses, it seemed like a lot of trouble just to end up surrounded by bodies in a perpetual state of decay. Some people might have been uncomfortable with my c’thonic allies, but at least they didn’t literally smell like death.

With the knowledge that I possessed and the state of the battlefield, I decided to let Fly’s Raise Dead spell go through for a few reasons. First, Butterfly Zombie… Zomberfly? Buttombie? Zutterflie?

First, Butterbie would have a mean stat penalty and wouldn’t be as powerful as a Raised Dead as she had been while alive. This made her debuffs a lot less dangerous. Second, she couldn’t heal herself again, making her a much softer target for round two. Third, her Curse of Weakness had been a Divine spell, so there was a chance she could no longer even use many of her skills. Altogether she was a bad target for the spell.

Fourth–and most importantly–holy shit, I needed to focus on blocking.

I angled my shield to intercept the Infernal’s burning claws as it crashed into me, rolling its talons aside while the demon pushed me back several feet with its bulk. Gracorvus glowed a dull orange where the demon struck, but the shield had done its job and protected me from harm.

While the Infernal grappled with Gracorvus, I twisted my body to keep the shield and demon between myself and an onslaught of crackling arrows. Thunder shook the ground as lightning bolts struck between each lightning-infused projectile, the current causing my muscles to clench and spasm, but some of the electricity jolted the Infernal as well.

Before the Shocked debuff could build up enough to threaten me with another Stun or Immobilize, Cricket’s attacks were interrupted. I couldn’t catch a glimpse of what made the archer pause with the wall of muscle and brimstone between us, and Roach was already swinging at my exposed head with her bardiche.

I was forced to send Gracorvus into hover mode, unable to rip it free from the Infernal in time to block. Instead, I flew back from my shield with a burst of movement from my wings, just barely able to avoid the polearm’s blade. Roach followed up with a spinning hit on my midsection that I couldn’t avoid. The blade carved a new line through my armor, cutting through abdominal muscle and intestine beneath. Her body glowed and she spun again at several times her already outrageous speed, slashing into the same spot and bisecting me nearly to the spine.

Critical Damage reduced by Body of Theseus!

HP: 522 -> 198

I lost all control of my core, held up only by my vibrant Therianthropy wings. I could still move my legs–barely–but the muscles and connective tissues that allowed that to be useful were severed at my waist. Had I been able to bleed, I would have already been dead.

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The pain was all-consuming. A white light filled my vision and threatened to swallow reality, promising the relief of unconsciousness. I ignored the siren’s call of that insidious glow. I pulled away from its delightful warmth even as it soaked into my wounds, resisted its holy allure while the hallowed beacon gripped my torn flesh in its motherly hands and sewed them back together with care and a loving kiss.

HP: 198 -> 398

You gain 1 stack of Blessed!

Wait, what?

“Divine intervention, motherfuckers!” shouted Xim.

Our cleric bashed the Wraith across its ghostly face with her scepter, setting it aflame with bloody fire. The intangible monster wailed and fled the cleric, its translucent hands clawing at the divine fire in a futile effort to extinguish itself.

Grotto clutched onto Xim’s shoulder, eyes barely open, body limp.

[Several million years worth of pain, Arlo,] the core thought to me. [That is what you owe me for this.]

Roach’s eyes went wide as my stomach began knitting itself back together, Xim’s Heal scooping me from the brink of death and depositing me somewhere on its periphery but still too close to be totally comfortable. I didn’t have time to question the duo’s appearance in the middle of our foes, instead using Shortcut to reposition back outside of Roach’s range. I sent a mental tug for Gracorvus to return to me, hoping to tear it away from the Infernal. I caught sight of Cricket, who was drawing back on her bow. Two arrows protruded from one of the bugwoman’s eyes, which poured a torrent of dark blood.

Two.

Two arrows.

The same eye.

Cricket’s other eye was closed, leaving her blind while light and power thrummed around her body. Electricity arced away from her in all directions, creating showers of bright sparks. She was getting ready for something big.

My teleport took me into the center of the enemy a few yards from Xim. The Goliath spun clumsily on its heel and swung its Force-imbued fist at me. Gracorvus had responded to my will and swept around behind me, abandoned by the Infernal. I held up my arms in a boxing guard over my head and chest to soak Goliath’s hit, using Gracorvus to keep myself from being flung across the battle again. A pulse of force released when the rocky fist struck, slamming my back into the shield and tearing the slightly healed wound at my gut with the pressure.

HP 398 -> 348

Fly held out a hand toward Butterbie, whose body regrew flesh and sprouted new wings where the old had been torn asunder. (So, I guess the no-healing thing from Raise Dead was something Necro Fly had been ready for. No real surprise there, really.) Butterbie then thanked her necromancer by casting a spell at Xim, dark spores tearing away from her still-mutilated body and seeking out the cleric’s face. (Which meant that Butterbie still had her skills and the no-Divine-spells thing also didn’t matter for this corpse, apparently. Fuck all my logic for not Dispelling when I could. What’s next, her stats weren’t debuffed?)

The spell was another curse, but this time it was Curse of Fear. Even though Fly could break the Raise Dead rules, her deadhead had picked the wrong target for that one.

The Infernal was taking my bait and making a beeline for me again, but Roach’s eyes narrowed as she reassessed her priorities and decided to charge Xim.

See page 1, kill the healer.

I was planning for Roach to make that move, however, and it gave me a precious second to set things up. As Roach rocketed forward with her supersonic speed, I activated Gravity Anchor in the middle of the whole pack, flooding it with stamina and warping it around my allies.

I became down from all directions. The Infernal lost its footing, falling toward me. The Goliath stumbled forward, landing on top of the Infernal and entangling their limbs. Butterbie ragdolled in my direction, limp undead arms scrabbling at nothing through the air. Fly’s horse stomped against the dirt floor, unable to stop itself from inexorably sliding closer.

Roach’s trajectory was altered as she passed, causing her to swoop between me and Xim in an arc, missing the cleric and plowing into Butterbie who lost one of her newly formed wings from the impact. When Roach managed to stop her charge mid-flight, she had to dig her bardiche into the ground to resist. I was crushed beneath the Goliath and the Infernal and felt Butterbie slap down onto Gracorvus at my back. Fly and Roach had managed to keep a short distance away, but all I needed to do was tie up as many enemies as I could in a nice, tight group.

Xim took a deep breath of the cursed spores, being immune to Fear as she was, then smiled at the crowd before her. Her features twisted into her bestial form, she raised her scepter and the beating icon of a crimson heart burst from the ether.

“What do we say to new friends, Grotto?” she asked.

[Your minds are weak.]

Grotto’s eyes glowed and tentacles sprouted forth from the heart, wreathed in hypnotic flame. A pulse of dread washed out across the battle, crashing into every nearby enemy.

The Infernal roared and clawed at the Goliath’s arms and chest to try and escape. The Goliath pressed its fists into my face and chest, desperate to free itself as well. Butterbied squirmed along my back, and Roach abandoned her bardiche, wings beating furiously. Even Fly’s mount took several hesitant steps back from Xim. I released my hold on Gravity Anchor, and the enemies scattered.

Roach buzzed away and crashed into the southern wall. Xim’s debuff didn’t only hit the enemy with Fear, but also Slow and Weakness. Despite that, Roach plowed into the boundary hard enough to create a cloud of dirt and falling stone. She began shoveling handfuls of dry earth aside, seeking to burrow her way into the soil. The Infernal scraped its way north, its movements sluggish, while the Goliath lumbered behind it at a speed a geriatric turtle might have been able to beat.

Fly didn’t flee, but she was taken aback, stunned into inaction. Butterbie tried to stumble off as golden spores shone around her, disrupting the afflictions. I wrapped her up with my tentacles, keeping the weakened zombie in check. I spun and slammed the Raised Dead into the ground, hovering above her with my wings, still not willing to put any weight on my lower body. I summoned Somncres and hurled a triple-copied Void Hammer into the undead’s vacant face.

Her head exploded, and the natural order was restored.

I felt a wave of static crawl across the room, raising the hair on my arms and neck. I looked to see Cricket releasing her charged attack, the archer too distant to have been affected by Xim’s Fear. She launched an arrow at a barrier with such force it looked like a tank shell had landed. The barrier exploded into a fierce spray of shrapnel and Cricket’s attack was followed by a massive bolt of lightning that filled the dark room with blinding wrath.

I caught a glimpse of Nuralie rolling out from behind the barrier as the first arrow struck, reducing her cover to fragments. Her body glinted with the Shielding she’d built up with her Lightbringer evolution, but it was torn away in an instant by the blast. A crimson glow replaced the stripped Shielding as her first Fortitude evolution activated, something I’d never witnessed the Loson pull out before.

No First Blood

Whenever you would take damage, you can choose to reduce that damage by an amount equal to your FOR * 2. If you do, you cannot use this ability again until the next dawn.

The evo ate 40 damage from the mighty thunderbolt, and I felt electricity arc through me as my Life Warden buff transmitted half of everything else over to me.

HP: 348 -> 239

You have taken Wicked damage! Your maximum HP has been reduced by 109 until you receive 8 hours of uninterrupted rest.

The shared damage I took from Life Warden was further reduced by my Physical Magic, so Nuralie took at least 130 damage from the glancing blow–nearly a third of her HP. Nuralie’s teeth were bared as the lightning coursed through her body, but she never stopped aiming at Cricket. The moment the lightning let up, the loson unleashed her own attack, though it was far less spectacular.

The arrow she fired disappeared, then reappeared in Cricket’s remaining eye, still shut tight. The insectoid woman’s head snapped back, and her body went limp. She hit the ground with a jingle of her bow’s strange bells.

Fly snapped back to reality after her second ally perished, placing a gentle hand on her steed’s neck to calm it. She swept a hand through the air and a dark rod appeared in her hand, the length of a baton. An oppressive weight fell over the room when it appeared, burdening my soul with a sense of impending doom. I could See the effect it had on the soul halos around me, not just our own, but even Fly’s allies and summons. It pressed them inward, suppressing them with unholy force.

Xim had to concentrate to keep her Fear effect running or we’d be swarmed again. It would be up to me and Nuralie to put Fly down before Xim’s debuffs broke. We were both heavily injured, but I steeled my resolve to end things quickly.

Then, the air around Fly began to warp and tear. I hastily looked for something to Dispel, but whatever I was seeing wasn’t a spell. The world twisted, and there were suddenly two of the mounted summoners before us, each holding one of the dark rods aloft. The metaphysical weight pressing down on our souls doubled.

I growled as dark energy began to build around the batons, then shouted my frustrations to the heavens.

“Grade 14 my ass!”

In my moment of irritation, I nearly missed a subtle flare from Grotto’s soul. A scepter–Xim’s old weapon–flew through the air and struck the copy of Fly across the jaw, cracking her carapace and leaving her face dripping dark red goo.

You have observed the Animate Object spell.

It seemed my familiar had some unforeseen tricks as well.

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