Maribor, Triss and Ruins (Part 9)

'Coen? You here?'

'Alan? You alive, that is good.' - came a reply from the other side. Looks like he is not that far, but inside a labyrinth like this it can be very hard to meet.

'Coen, take a note of this. I don't know what is going on, but it seems we should really think twice before messing with this place.' - Alan sent him a vision last page he read from a journal where a trapped entity was mentioned. He strictly filtered information he transmitted to Coen, as journal contained not only some life writing, but also had several recipes, blueprints and bestiary volumes.

Any attempt to connect to Lambert and Triss but failed. Could this place really be so huge? Or something is blocking Vibe? Both things are a possibility.

'Alan, we got a problem... there are not just ghouls, but draugars here. If we can't even kill them it is a suicide run.' - sent Coen a thought with a slight tinge of an image between words. It was a dead person shriveled and gray, adorned in ancient looking armor.

'Cut off their limbs.' - said Alan and unsheathed Dearg Aeann. - 'I'm coming to you.'

'Easier said than done, kiddo.' - complained Coen in response.

Alan moved down and jumped over the small hill of rubble, appearing by the other side of a room. Here he found his first enemies and immediately willed Isu-Quen to surround him. Although he is yet to mend it's flaw, being protected by it is better than not.

Ghouls were walking everywhere like dogs taking a tour in the park.

"This is perverse. I can't even kill them." - he grumbled and slapped the floor with his palm, softening it into a swamp. Necrophages immediately sensed his magic, but it was very broad to avoid, resulting in them submerging with all limbs into the liquidized stone surface.

Alan slid down, hardening it into substance of concrete and bending his legs slightly, went into lower stance. He swirled around, cutting off caught limbs here and there, leaving at least one inside the floor. Black blood and stench of decay permeated the air, while silver danced in his hands with unbelievable sharpness and great precision.

Ghouls were relentless, they started to snarl at him and roar like a beasts, that attracted several of their kind from a far off room to the right.

"No use keeping it down now." - mumbled Alan under his breath and willed mana to go on rampage inside his source veins, letting it out into destructive stomp.

Ground went highway with ripples of movement and crushed all limbs of ghouls that were trapped, hurling them with black blood everywhere into the air and to the walls. They didn't die, but were in no condition to fight.

Alan shifted to face new incoming threat. They were more agile and stronger than the ones he used to take on while traveling with Coen. That and the fact that they were a bit different from outer appearance, made him finally understand one thing – he got himself into trouble this time.

A pack of ghouls came running with snarls and mindless bloodlust.

But the main problem was the warning. Not to kill.

First directly jumped at him aiming claws at his throat and it was perfect target for a frontal chop to cleave in half. But goddammit this move will kill it! Alan opted to slice limbs on the right side, but managed to cut off only frontal claw, as necrophage shifted right in the air in unbelievably agile fashion and youth felt stabbing pain in his shoulder, that now had a new claw bloody mark.

It went through his armor and spell like a hot knife through butter and left some very damaging dark fog around the wound. Still, it wasn't something he even registered as uncomfortable in terms of pain after being in soul extinguisher. Alan saw how energy of his ancestry bloodline directly flared up in rage as if a sentient being and purged everything with aqua flames, scalding the injury.

'At least I won't be paralyzed from a little wound and won't bleed to death. But damn it hurts.'

Ghoul then went flying past his left, after Alan minimized the damage through a side roll. However it wasn't alone, three more came up. They were hurled away with a blast of space ram, that was toned down to only serve like a regular Aard. Trio flew away and stumbled on the ground slick from black blood of their brethren.

Alan looked back and used shadows to bind the one who now attacked him from the back and pinned it to the floor only to turn around and raise his hand while jumping backwards. The rest of the pack already came to their senses and pounced on him again.

'Fuck, they are relentless!'

With the rise of his hand a wall of stone rose in second and two, out of three ghouls who were closer rammed at it like a cars on crash test. They produced a loud sounds of collision and snarls of pain while rolling away. Seems like ghouls had their own share of nerves and neuron system inside bodies, as they were laying on the ground broken and paralyzed.

But the last actually had a chance to hop over the magic wall and directly make a long jump from the elevation.

"Fuck off!" - Alan cursed at it and sent another space ram right into it's face. This time he made it a bit stronger and broke many bones of the target. But, really, when such a thing trying to eat you, the last point of your interest will be not killing it. - "How are we suppose to fight them without killing?"

Alan walked up to the one bound by shadows and with a snap of a finger made some of them sharp as a sword. They entered the flesh of ghoul, severing all it's limbs. He looked around and found to his astonishment, that previous batch that lost limbs gradually growing them back using the same dark mist that was now all over the place.

It had a very cold and apathetic aura around it, void of all energies and matters, except tranquility and lifelessness of neutral mana. Alan looked at it through his vision and shuddered. If there is one word to explain what it felt like, he would say – Death.

His medallion was going insane and even his bloodline started to get agitated, unleashing more and more of it's energy into the body, as if trying to not let this darkness effect it's host in any way. This would have been a perfect training ground for him to finally wield at least a bit of his power, if not for more necrophages healing up.

Alan traced the connection from the vibe and found that he can locate everyone in the same direction. He casted levitation on himself, burning mana reserves even further without care, as he can replenish them from the ring in due time, and sprinted with practically no weight in his body.

His speed went on another level, as Alan ran along the walls where it was hard to trespass and jumped several floors above where rooms were ruined and collapsed. It didn't take much to locate Coen, who was fighting with a giant undead creature.

Draugar. They were the true Nordic menace, a monstrous creation of their crypts. Draugars were not normal necrophages, as they were born from a bodies of powerful warriors and remembered their art of combat. Their unfulfilled pledge of loyalty during life gave birth to desire, that usually can be granted only by supernatural entities like djinns, liches, vultehars and, maybe, devil himself.

With that desire as a fuel and their eternal pledge as a base, they were brought back to the world of living in this form, that lacked any semblance of mind, only hunger and killing instinct. A cruel joke about a wish, granted in perverse manner.

Stone split in pieces of sharp projectiles.

They went in every direction cutting air with wisting sounds, uncomfortable for the hearing and crashed into walls and armored knights, who surprisingly fought side by side with witchers and Triss. Seems like in dire straits they didn't play the usual racist card and opted for collaboration.

Smart move, nothing else to say.

Shards wounded many even if Triss was able to cover most with a shield, strikes from giant draugar, who waved huge sledgehammer were no joke.

'Where did this weapon of titans even come from?'

Magic can't be explained by normal logic. As draugar can alter it's size, it can do the same with the weapon it was buried with. Curse the nords, they always leave weapons with the dead and then poor witcher have the short end of a stick. They should really practice cremation of people in a world like this, not burials.

Alan jumped down and softened the ground beneath the monstrous thing, but it just shrank under stunned gaze of the crowd and hurled himself forward using weapon as a leverage, enlarging again with dark mist all over it's gray skin and landing with a thunderclap among the knights.

"Oh, that's just great." - cursed Alan it's battle awareness. Good thing it's weapon is going down through the water-like surface of a spell.

"Shields! Spread out! Surround it and attack from the back." - came fast and accurate orders. It was an old knight, who took the lead of command. Seems like more than half of the regiment was already down or lost in the ruins, but even so they somehow man up and were able to fight the huge monster.

Actually, seeing this Alan can't help but improve his view of them. Yes, they are dicks and racists, but brave enough and in battle as a group are quite capable to hold the ground.