Chapter 40 - Storm (2)

[POV - VARRIC]

"Well, that's unsettling" I said as I laid my eyes on a growing splotch of darkness on the horizon. It looked as if it squirmed in places, similar to a Slime back home.

Except this was....a tad bit more menacing.

Only a bit?

Okay, more than just a bit.

I looked around me, as we stood beyond the shallow walls of the now, empty outpost. 

"Anyone got a reading on that? An ETA would be nice?" I said, my question intended to those who stood behind me. A full party of combatants. Thankfully, it was the only thing that went right these days, a miracle it happened too.

A proper party, complete with damage dealers, a mage type and a melee type (me), a tank and a rookie combat medic who'd become more than reliable over the journey so far.

We stood at the one of the 3 choke-points to the outpost. We had enough bodies to spare, despite some of the combatants leaving with the civilian group.

The tank, Gerom, called back to me "What use would an ETA do? We'd be facing them all the same anyway" with a untimely smile on his face.

His response brought a round chuckles and suppressed grins among us. 

One might ask; 'jokes and laughs in this situation?'.

The only answer to that is that combatants aren't emotionless machines that only kill. At least for those who'd plateaued at the Energia and the Dynamika ranks. Perhaps it was a different as one got further along the ranks, but not for us.

 People like us need to cope somehow. Some did some manner of drugging to either permanently or at least temporarily 'defuse' the trauma. Some drank booze to drown out their memories.

Some crumbled. Some couldn't endure and simply....died.

Though, all things considered, comedy was the best and least harmful way to cope. At least in direct manner. Though, it wasn't too bad. 

Life and death was the cream and crop of a combatants life. People come and go one way or another. Even if it applied to myself at the end of the day.....

Wow...that's grim.

"If i knew the time of my demise, at least it'd get me ready to meet the Mother in the afterlife, guiding me to a sweet paradise"

"HAHAHA, what makes you think that she'd come to pick up you and your ugly mug" he said, with a grin.

"Oh, shove off you fat hunk of metal" I said, while chuckling.

"OI, I'M NOT FAT" he said followed by a softer "I'm just going through a phase".

Now THAT, was a joke. One that roused hearty laughter in all of us, including Gerom.

Our laughter echoed against the stone walls of the outpost, a brief respite from the encroaching darkness. I scanned the horizon again, the squirming splotch of black growing larger, more defined, and undoubtedly closer.

*GROUUUOOOOO*

And of course, the roars. It'd been a bit...

Ah yes, the word was-

*GRUUOOOOOO*

That's gonna get old fast. And frankly? I hope it does.

"Focus, everyone," I called, bringing the atmosphere back to the somber reality of our situation. "We have our orders, and we have a job to do."

I drew my blade. It was worn. Badly. Chipped in several places, followed by many cracks toward the edges. The only the holding this piece of metal together was the odd welding I had done on it by bob, and the runes inscribed on the blade.

At least, the ones the still worked anyway, since more than half of them were flickering like a Brid-Light gone bad.

Gerom, still grinning from ear to ear, nodded and took up his position at the choke point. He was our bulwark, the immovable force that would stand against the tide. Behind him, our mage, Soril, began to trace runes in the air, their intricate patterns glowing with a soft blue light.

There were many different mannerisms to using mana to cast 'magic'. Minor runes and chants like he was doing were one of the many that existed. It was also the cheapest to learn.

 He was preparing a series of defensive wards and offensive spells, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Our combat medic, Elara, was checking her supplies, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. She was young, barely out of the academy, but she'd proven her mettle time and time again. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and she gave a determined nod.

I took a deep breath, adjusting my grip on my sword. The familiar weight of it was a comfort, a reminder of countless battles fought and won. "Stay sharp," I said, my voice steady. "We hold this position no matter what. Protect the civilians, buy them time, enough that they may get far enough."

No replies this time, just grim faces. They knew what they were in for. 

No they didn't sign up for it, but....they knew what had to be DONE.

I knew what had to be done.

The others echoed my sentiment, and we turned our focus back to the horizon. The squirming darkness was now a roiling mass, a seething tide of Fyrraths. Their eyes glinted with a predatory hunger, and their chittering filled the air, a cacophony of dread.

"Soril? Give me a rank reading, what are we dealing with?"

He drew another rune, smaller, shaped like a warped 'S'. He pushed it outwards into the air, then it dissolved. Briefly, a period of silence, then it reformed. The rune blinked intermittently for a bit before fading away.

He looked at me, dead in the eye and spoke softly, yet everyone heard him;

"Energia...all of them...maybe Dynamika in the mix too"

Ah....I'm...no we're fucked.

"We're fucked aren't we" Gerom said, with a nervous tick, evident in his voice. 

He voiced out the thing we were all likely thinking. No, not likely, everyone probably had the same thought run through their minds on hearing that.

Holding out against Energia was possible. At the very least for a few hours....

But Dynamika? That's not even a minor stage. That's a whole rank above all of us present here!

Sure, a well prepared party of Energia ranked could take on a singular Dynamika ranked Fyrrath. But there's the catch.

The keyword was not only 'PREPARED' but also- 'SINGULAR'.

Not more than that, and certainly not among a horde of Energia ranked Fyrraths. We weren't some elite party meant to tackle some famous Beast. We were...just what remained.

Not more than that, and certainly not among a horde of Energia ranked Fyrraths. We weren't some elite party meant to tackle some famous Beast. We were...just what remained.

I clenched my fists, forcing the fear down as I met Soril's gaze. "Understood," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "We've faced worse."

Gerom snorted, a shaky laugh escaping him. "Yeah, sure. Worse. Like that time we faced a horde of angry squirrels, right?"

Despite the tension, a few chuckles broke out. Humor, even gallows humor, was a lifeline. I knew we needed it now more than ever.

Soril continued his spellcasting, his fingers a blur of movement. "Defensive wards are up," he said, the runes glowing faintly around the choke point. "These should hold for a while, but if a Dynamika comes through..."

"We'll handle it," I said, cutting him off. "One problem at a time."

Elara nodded, her face pale but resolute. "I've got enough supplies to patch us up if things get rough."

I nodded. "Good. Stick close to Gerom. He'll need your support the most."

The Fyrraths were getting closer, their shapes more distinct against the night. They moved with a terrifying grace, their sleek forms rippling with muscle. The air buzzed with their chittering, a sound that sent shivers down my spine.

Gerom raised his shield, its surface gleaming in the moonlight. "Let's do this," he said, his voice steady. "Veria Bless thy Soul"

"Veria Bless thy Soul," we echoed, our voices firm.

I looked to the right of out postion, where to more teams held their own choke points. I sighed, shoulders sagging slightly.

I hoped I'd at least die in a resort of some kind....this is just...tragic.

I would've cursed Bearof....if not for the fact that....

*sigh*