Mercenaries’ Tale – 3.01 The Attack

Tales of Sin, The Mercenaries’ Tale: Act Three

The Power Plant

“Consider our friendship. What is the likeliness of a mage of my calibre aligning myself with a burned out sociopathic ex-soldier with suicidally brash tendencies and a traumatised, tragic vigilante who just wants to rub out her own pain by hurting others?”

“It’s started,” Blaise muttered as she stared into the darkness below. All thoughts of their argument disappeared as the two mercenaries set to work, both moving low to the edge of the cliff and finding positions on the ground next to one another. Blaise peered through the infrared scope she had attached to her rifle and focused her mind on one clear and concise thought.

Gratin!

She knew the mage would hear it. She was sure that he had been monitoring her emotional state ever since she stormed off. He would alert the others.

She swept her scope over the scene below for any sign of the terrorists.

“Anything?” Doug whispered, inches away, talking almost directly into her ear. He was peering into the darkness, hoping the stars above would be enough of a light source to let him spot any sign of those below.

“Shh, I’m looking…” she muttered, her scope following the line of the pipe all the way over to the entrance of the monitor station. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted some activity.

“Hello there,” the faintest of smiles flickered across her face. There were six figures climbing out of a freshly made gaping hole in the ground. All were wearing neatly arranged uniforms consisting of long, midnight-blue coats adorned with their weapons of choice and they each had goggles perched on top of their heads. There was a man with a sniper rifle on his back and ammo clipped to his belt; another, incredibly big man had a collection of knives strapped to his chest; a third man, squat and rotund, had numerous pouches on his person that he was beginning to shift through and there were two men who were armed with combat pistols and machine-guns.

The final man was in fact a woman. She was the only one not wearing a uniform, instead being covered in a long, sweeping coat with a flowing dress peeking out from underneath. Blaise relayed this description to Doug.

“Ten Kronz on her being the White Mage. We’ll need to take her out first,” he said in reply. Blaise was biting her lip.

“Mmm, but what if she has a shield up on herself already. If we try to take out their explosive expert first then that will at least hinder their attempts to blow the pipe,” She reasoned. She could see the expert in question retrieving some chalk from a pouch which he then used to begin to draw an ornate symbol of intricate design onto the concrete consisting of many overlapping triangles and circles.

Doug considered Blaise’s words.

“We don’t know if any of the others will know how to rig the pipes,” he pointed out. Blaise didn’t say anything as she watched those below. One of the terrorists, one armed with pistols, had summoned a ball of light in his hand and had thrown it at a security camera. He was now stood perfectly still, his eyes glowing softly. Blaise described this to Doug.

“I’ve seen that trick before,” he muttered, “back in my days in the PSF. If you saw a Dark Worlder doing that you could bet that he was magically hacking the electronics in the area. He’s probably jacked into the security systems right now, seeing who’s about on the security cameras.”

“They can do that?”

“It’s a light mage trick. Something about riding electrical signals. Can’t say I spent any time properly looking into how they do it myself,”

“Great. Just how many mages are we dealing with here?” Blaise asked glumly.

“Probably just one. Dark Worlders treat magic like we treat technology; just ‘cus someone has a laptop doesn’t make them a scientist,” he pointed out, “they wouldn’t need all those guns and knives if they could blow our heads off with a look,” he then added as an afterthought.

Further discussion was cut short as the sound of footsteps beating on the rocks behind them approached. Harper was the first to arrive, dropping to the floor beside Doug and attempting to peer into the dark below.

“What’s up? Grat-man got the impression we had company?”

“They just got here. Six of the arseholes. One mage but the others might have abilities too. We gotta play this carefully,” Doug informed her, not taking his eyes away from where he thought the targets were. Harper nodded as the others caught up. They all took positions besides Doug and Blaise – save for Gratin who hung a few metres back, out of view of the lip of the cliff- and tried to peer into the gloom. Thad had a small pair of binoculars which he used. Parkinson swung his rifle off his shoulder and scoped out the scene below with it.

“I’ve got a shot on the Mage! I’m going for it!” proclaimed the sniper. Blaise, wide-eyed, turned to stop him.

“No, don-” the sound of the gunshot interrupted her. The mercs didn’t require a scope to see the flash of light which flared an inch in front of the White Mage’s head as the bullet ricocheted off of her spirit shield. The resulting reaction was instantaneous. The White Mage spun around and glared in the direction the bullet had came from searchingly. The other Dark Worlders noted her behaviour and quickly took up a defensive formation as they began to search for any signs of an attacker. A Dark Worlder wearing a number of pips on his collar and therefore could be assumed to be the Captain of the squad began to bark orders. The White Mage raised her hands and focused her energy, the earth below her beginning to move by her will alone. The chunk of dirt she was standing on rose out of the ground, levitating in the air.

Smaller rocks followed, the White Mage guiding them to form stepping stones which another of the Dark Worlders – one with a sniper rifle on his back – began to climb up, towards the top of the cliff. Once he reached the final stone, he disappeared in a flash of light.

“Shit! We got a teleporter!” Blaise informed the others, having returned to her scope to see just how much damage Parkinson had caused. Her rifle began to bob around as she searched the opposite cliff top for the enemy sniper. Parkinson was in shock, unable to process why the White Mage wasn’t dead.

“What the hell?! That was a head shot! What happened?!”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” growled Doug as he grabbed Parkinson’s rifle and jerked it away before Parkinson could do anything else, “You just gave the bloody game away! The fuck are you playing at?!”

“I had a clean shot! I took it! She should be missing the back of her scalp! She wasn’t even singing!”

“It costs a lot less focus to only put a barrier over yourself than to do a whole group. She probably didn’t need to sing to shield herself, Gratin doesn’t. Why do you think I wasn’t shooting?” Blaise said, still searching. She caught sight of the Dark Worlder perched between two rocks, peering back at her through his own scope. He looked surprised, his rifle turning to point at Blaise the exact moment she found him. She let off a warning shot, catching his shoulder before he could pull the trigger. He let out a howl of pain and disappeared in another flash of light. Blaise continued the game of hide and seek.

Behind her, the others were still arguing.

“How was I to know! That’s cheating!”

“If you waited a soddin’ minute, we’d have told you!”

“Enough!” Thad cut in, losing patience, “having a shouting match won’t help us! We need a plan B!”

“I got your plan B: let the people that know what they’re doing get on with the soddin’ job!” Doug shot back, “Archie! You’re up!”

Gratin allowed the use of the hated nick-name to slide. He could feel a battle waging inside Doug’s head, his military training wrestling with a ball of rage that was bouncing around his skull like an angry bull. Gratin wasn’t sure what had transpired between his friends mere moments ago, but it was clear Doug wasn’t in his usual state of mind. The mage decided it was best to do as the soldier wanted for now.

Gratin clasped his hands together and began to chant, focusing his energy on the palms of his hands. A light flickered to life between them, which Gratin then threw up into the sky. There was an explosion, the light pulsing outwards, the air igniting in a burst of flame which then drew together to form a giant fireball the size of a family car. It happened in a matter of seconds, the result illuminating the entire area like a miniature sun. Down below, the Dark Worlders clutched at their eyes as the sudden appearance of a light source burned their sensitive retinas. Doug wasn’t about to give them a chance to recover.

“Charge!” He yelled at the top of his lungs as he grabbed one of the ropes Thad and Parkinson had set up earlier and began to abseil down the cliff face. Blinking and disorientated, the other close combat mercs scrambled to follow suit, deciding it was best not to waste this opportunity as well.

The Dark Worlder Captain yelled out more orders at his troops, the group grasping for the goggles on their heads and pulling them down to protect from the source of their discomfort. Blinking the vision back into their eyes, they were shocked to find Doug running at them full-pelt with his fist raised. The closest Dark Worlder barely had time to make a deposit in the Bank of Underwear before the metallic appendage collided with his nose and sent him flying backwards. The others were close behind, Thad facing off against the Captain, Annie turned her attention to a seven foot tall Dark Worlder adorned with knives, Harper drew her gun in preparation to give Doug a hand with his quarry and Tupper brought up the rear just because it seemed like a better idea than hanging out with the snipers.

The White Mage snapped out of her initial shock at the appearance of the rag-tag group of mercenaries and began to sing. Her eyes glowed a bright white, her hands raising to point at her compatriots. They too began to glow, a white sheen outlining them. The Dark Worlder who’s nose Doug had just pulped – the magical security hacker – began to laugh as the dripping blood from his broken nose began to drip onto the sheen of light enveloping him. He looked like he was handling the pain unusually well which made Doug suspect this man had a magical runic tattoo on his person that was no doubt currently working overtime to dull the pain.

“Fba bs na nzcuvovna, gung uheg,” the Dark Worlder taunted through a grin that was now missing teeth. Doug wasn’t too sure what the Hacker had said to him so he decided to assume it was an insult.

“Yeah, up yours! Come on then, if you think you’re hard enough!”

Up on the cliff side, Parkinson was still hesitating. He was caught off-guard by someone yanking him back onto the floor by his shirt, followed by the feeling of something very small passing over his head very quickly. Looking around, he came face to face with an annoyed Blaise.

“They have a sniper! A teleporting one! Snap out of it and help me pin him down before he does any real damage!” She growled at him. Parkinson came to his senses and nodded, re-positioning his rifle as he took aim.

“Right!”

Blaise rolled her eyes, flicked the earbud out of her hat and placed it in her ear. Once her music player was on, she took a moment to let the beat of a new song wash over her and clear her mind, before retreating back into her scope once more.

Doug charged towards the Hacker, bionic fist raised and ready for a repeat of the earlier attack. The Techno-Caster was ready for it, however, leaping into a roll, diving aside and spinning once back on his feet to face the Lusinian soldier, his pistols rising with his hands. What he hadn’t been expecting was for Harper to flank him and launch herself into a jump-kick, pushing him back into Doug’s path as the mercenary skidded to re-face the Dark Worlder. Doug closed the gap between the two in an instant and launched into an uppercut, sending the Techno-Caster backwards where Harper swept her legs around on the floor to trip him up, gravity dragging him roughly onto the ground. The Techno-Caster barely had time to wince from the impact as he bounced against the edges of his protective shell before Doug had pounced on him and began to lay into him with a volley of punches. After every punch, the Dark Worlder recoiled from Doug’s attempts to break through the light barrier, Doug letting out all of his pent-up rage on the Dark Worlder’s face as he exerted more and more force with every blow.

Becoming the Lusinian’s new stress relief was hardly ideal, the Techno-Caster having other plans. He tightly shut his eyes, focused on a spot a few inches above his nose and concentrated.

“Frne!” there was a flash of searing light that halted Doug’s attacks purely so he could clutch at his eyes. Blinking through the spots dancing across his vision, he just about managed to see the Dark Worlder thrusting the butt of a pistol up for a blow to Doug’s undefended stomach. The air knocked out of him, the Techno-Caster managed to shove Doug off and turned his attention onto the woman, Harper mid-way through rallying another sneak attack. He swung his pistol around to point at her, letting off a warning shot. Harper dove aside and drew her SMG, rolling and aiming in one smooth motion just in time to see Doug recover enough to make another grab for the Techno-Caster. His right arm managed to clasp the Caster’s wrist, wrenching it away from Harper so that the bionic arm could come down with full force onto the startled Dark Worlder’s appendage. The desired effect was not achieved, the glittering shield taking the brunt of the blow, the techno caster merely laughing at Doug’s attempts to break his arm. Doug grunted in response and twisted the limb, shoving the Dark Worlder onto the floor as he pinned him under the full weight of his body, Doug now on top of the Caster.

The shield seemed to be malleable enough to allow whoever was inside mobility but prevented anything from breaching the barrier. Doug decided to put this to the test, griping the Dark Worlder’s arm as tightly as his bionics would allow and twisting. Colour drained from the restrained man’s face as it occurred to him that Doug may just have found a loophole, cries of pain escaping his lips as his shoulder began to protest, his arm being forced to bend a lot further than any limb was physically capable of. There was a sickening popping sound and a scream of agony as Doug managed to wrench the arm loose of its socket, the appendage going limp as the Dark Worlder beat on the ground with his one working arm, tears pouring down his face.

The Lusinian Soldier took this opportunity to glance around the battlefield to survey which side was winning. Annie had at some point climbed onto the back of the biggest Dark Worlder and was attempting to punch him in the face as he tried to shake her off. The Gentleman was taking part in an intense sword fight with the Captain of the Dark Worlder squad, the two evenly matched. As for Blaise, Doug could hear the occasional blast of rifle fire and could see the odd flash of light on the opposite clifftop as the teleporter evaded all attempts to pin him down.

Turning his attention back down, he could see the Hacker was adapting to the pain now, his screams reduced to an angry snarl and muttered curses. Aware that this fight was going to take a lot longer than he was anticipating, Doug steeled himself.

“C’mon Archie, get a move on…”

Gratin floated down from the clifftop, gliding down to become level with the White Mage floating on her rocky platform. Her eyes were closed, the White Mage focused on her chanting, palms level with her abdomen and facing the sky, glowing softly. Gratin took a deep breath and focused, sensing out the strength of the shield surrounding the other mage. It looked sturdy, the White Mage doing an excellent job of focusing on maintaining her own shield and the others at the same time. The teleporter was no doubt out of range of the shield magic so that meant she was maintaining concentration on five different shield spells at once, each one being constantly attacked. Gratin was genuinely impressed. It almost felt a shame to have to defeat someone with such a talent. He decided to test her concentration by lazily flinging some small fire balls at the shield. They merely fizzled out as they impacted the obstruction, the female mage’s brow twitching in mild irritation but the defensive spell remained in place. Gratin bowled a larger blast at the shield but still the White Mage continued without so much as a dip in her concentration. Gratin found himself nodding in appreciation. Aware that his friends would begin to tire out before their opponents unless Gratin put a stop to the White Mage, he decided to take it up a notch.

He planted his feet firmly on the ground and summoned more flames that engulfed his hands. Pointing his palms up at his opponent, he unleashed a jet of flame that shot towards the White Mage, wrapped itself around the shield like a snake and began exerting pressure.

The White Mage swore loudly in her language before she disappeared from view. She tried to continue her chanting but was finding it immensely difficult as the temperature inside the dome of flame began to become unbearably hot. She had to put more power into her defensive spell if she wanted to prevent her shield from failing and being cooked alive by Gratin’s fire magic, which meant less for the ones protecting her companions…

The sword fight between Thad and the Captain was tensing up, Thad dodging the Captain’s swipes and lashing out with one of his own. He was rewarded by drawing blood, a deep cut being left in the sword’s wake across the Captain’s cheek. The Captain found himself hesitating as he lifted a hand to touch the blood, shocked anything made it through his shield. That’s when realisation dawned, the fact that his field of vision was no longer tinted by a glimmer of light. He risked a glance over his shoulder, laying his eyes on the sight of the rival mage blasting a constant stream of fire magic at his friend. He visibly paled.

“Li’via!” his yells attracted the attention of the other fighters, the battle ceasing momentarily as everyone waited with bated breath to see if Gratin was about to break through or not.

There was a rumble in the dirt, a wall of rocks erupting from the ground and blocking Gratin’s stream of flame. He dropped the attack, the flames dissipating. The White Mage became visible again, the woman panting for breath and having fallen to her knees. She tentatively raised a hand to wipe away a trickle of blood that was leaking from her nose and examined the fluid on her glove before turning her attention on to Gratin. If looks could kill then the one she gave the Fire Mage would have had enough power behind it to stop his heart twice over.

There were cheers from the ragtag band of mercenaries as they came to the realization that their enemies were no longer being protected. They launched back into their attacks before the Dark Worlders had a proper chance to regroup, the invaders now on the back foot as they could no longer afford to be reckless in their own attacks.

Another volley of sniper fire caused Blaise to fling herself backwards and dart down the slope for better cover, dropping a smoke grenade as she went to better cover her escape. Her mind was reeling as she tried to work out the best strategy to deal with the teleporting sniper. She reasoned that he must be rematerialising at a spot further down the slope on his side and then sneaking back up to a fresh point to shoot from. They’d be able to see the flash of light as he reappeared otherwise. What had Gratin said? Teleporters had a limited range? He had said a few feet but thinking back to the acolytes on the cruise ship, she calculated that the limit would be closer to 30. That narrowed where he would appear next down a bit.

Confident she was now fully out of view, she switched direction, sprinting to the right until she was sure she was far enough away from her previous position to not be spotted immediately. From there, she dropped down low and stealthily made her way back up the slope in a crouched gait. She could hear Parkinson firing which no doubt meant that their target would be moving again as well. That was good as the more pressure they kept on the Dark Worlder, the less likely he would have the time to turn his attention onto the other mercenaries. It was the best they could do for now…

Doug stepped away from the floored Dark Worlder with the full intent to take his rage out on a new target. This plan was put on hold the moment he noticed Harper staring down at his bionic arm.

“Err, Doug-”

“What?” he followed her gaze, noticing that his arm was glowing a dim yellow light. Remembering that Blaise had alerted him to the presence of a magical hacker, he whirled around to see the injured Dark Worlder pointing his good arm at the mechanical appendage, his eyes glowing in the same manner.

“Yrgf frr ubj lbh yvxr ybfvat na nez, ehzc perivpr!” sneered the man through his broken grin.

“Oh you mother-” Doug found himself being jerked off balance as his artificial appendage violently flung itself in an arc in an attempt to punch its owner in the face. Luckily the Techno Caster’s aim was off – partly due to his vantage point and partly due to the arm’s lack of manoeuvrability- meaning Doug was able to crane his neck just enough to the left to avoid the fist although he did receive a slap from his own bicep as the bulk of the arm impacted his mouth.

Harper, feeling very alarmed at the sight of Doug being attacked by his own limb, trained her gun on the injured Dark Worlder.

“Stop whatever the hell you’re doing or I’ll shoot you in the head!” there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice as she was not sure if shooting the magic user would disrupt the spell or cause it to go on indefinitely. The Dark Worlder decided to set the arm on a new target in response, the arm flinging itself in Harpers direction and dragging Doug along for the ride.

“Ah shit-!” the soldier dug his feet into the ground in an effort to stop himself from hurting the scouse, his bionics straining to reach her, slowly dragging him forward. With his right hand, he frantically felt around the arm’s underside for the hidden lever that acted as the release switch for the appendage, Doug managing to wrap his fingers around it and pull. There was a hissing as the joint disconnected itself from Doug’s person, the mechanical arm falling off of Doug’s stump and hitting the dirt with a dull thud.

Doug sighed with a relief, then gave a start as the limb started to writhe around on the dusty floor of its own accord like an angry snake attempting to right itself. The bionic fist snapped open and closed as the appendage attempted to squirm its way towards Doug with the intention of grasping his ankle.

“Fuck off!” yelled the mercenary, kicking at the forearm and trying to pin it down, the limb thrusting against Doug violently.

The sound of sustained gunfire filled the air as Harper came to her senses and unloaded her UZI into the Dark Worlder’s brain pan, an angry war cry escaping her lips as she purposefully stepped towards the terrorist. The Techno-Caster went limp and with him went the arm, the limb powering down and becoming dead on the ground. Doug nudged it with his foot a few times to make sure it wasn’t playing possum before breathing in relief.

“Cheating bastard,” Doug muttered to himself as he picked the limb back up by the wrist, “thanks Harp, I owe you one. Mind giving me a hand…?” he indicated his gnarled stump of a left arm sheepishly, Harper nodding, stepping forward and positioning the bionic limb so Doug could easily reinsert what was left of the original appendage back into the prosthetic one, the arm coming to life once more the moment the connections found their relevant ports.

The White Mage focused and flung one of the rock-walls she had used to defend against the flamethrower magic at Gratin, who simply dodged by taking to the air. She let out a growl in frustration, only to become confused when she noticed the skin tone on Gratin’s exposed jaw. He wasn’t Lusinian…

“Jul ner lbh nggnpxvat hf, Synzr Jvryqre? Lbh fubhyq or jvgu hf,” the female mage questioned as she watched Gratin circle her in the air. Gratin stared blankly back.

“Qb lbh abg unir na nafjre sbe zr? Lbh ner n Twigarnian! Jr ner oybbqxva! Unir lbh ab ubabhe?” she continued. Gratin continued to show no sign of understanding.

“Your powers of concentration are impressive, I’ll grant you that, but you best surrender. I won’t allow you the time to cast any more spells on your friends,” he told her. The woman frowned at him.

“…Do you not speak Twigarnian?” she asked, perplexed.

“I…no,” Gratin admitted, the question catching him off guard.

“Are you a fcnja bs yvtug?” she pressed.

“I don’t recognise the phrase.”

“Um…born of immigrants. A…bloodline displaced before war?” she tried to translate.

“I’m…complicated,” he told her. She hesitated.

“The Fha Fcbgf… people of this world… they raised you?” she questioned.

“I suppose technically I was raised by the Tserulian Monastery.”

“…Technically?”

“I’m complicated,”

“And it bothers you not that you fight your blood kin?” there was a pause as Gratin considered this.

“I hold no grudges, I’m only aiding my friends so we may afford to sustain ourselves,” he explained.

“The Fha Fcbgf are your friends?” she said in disdain, “their kind look down on us! They took my father from me! Many of those my friends and I care about are gone because of them!”

“I’m sorry for your loss but my friends did not start the war, they are merely caught up in its wake. Besides, from what I understand, the first attack was at our kind’s hand,”

“Lies! Whispered falsehoods to dishonour our people and to justify the Fha Fcbgf’f evil!”

“I’m afraid I only know what I’ve been told,” Gratin explained to her.

“Then you are corrupted! A pawn to the Fha Fcbgf! As Kraklag¹ as my witness, I shall end your half-life! May Jehoth look upon you favourably, Fcnja bs Yvtug!” She cried, launching into an attack. Chunks of rock the size of cars were wrenched from the earth and were flung at Gratin. He barrel-rolled out of the way, the rocks looping around and continuing to chase him like homing missiles. Gratin responded by blasting them apart with fireballs. The resulting rubble didn’t fall to the floor but rather kept coming for him. He swooped into a dive, flying towards the White Mage controlling them. She was forced to drop to the floor as Gratin dive-bombed her, the White Mage – Li’via – relinquishing her control and allowed the rocks to succumb to gravity rather than be hit by her own attack.

Gratin twirled in mid-air to face her and unleashed another jet of flame at her, Li’via opening up a hole below herself and disappearing into it, the earth swallowing her up and the gap closing before the flames could hit. Gratin exhaled and closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses to work out where she went. She was tunnelling, he could sense her moving the earth as she moved underground. He moved his head to track her as she moved into the cliff and began to climb upwards. He was prepared for her when the cliff face suddenly opened up and she launched herself out, riding a rock like a surfboard with several small boulders orbiting her. It would have been intimidating if Gratin hadn’t been waiting with a fireball in hand which he threw directly into her face the moment she cleared the cliff. The force of the attack knocked her off her mount, Li’via plummeting to the ground, impacting it with a heavy thud.

Gratin slowly descended, head tilted to the side as he examined her.

“You are not a fighter,” he stated, perplexed. Li’via was getting up, clutching at her face.

“I am a farmer! I joined the army after the Fha Fcbgf attacked our farm!” She informed him. She summoned another rock and flung it at him. Gratin blasted it out of the air before it drew close.

“You have performed admirably but there is no dishonour in surrendering. You have potential; it would be a waste if you were to die here,” he informed her.

“Rng fjnzc tnf! I’ll never give in to the likes of you!” she thrust her arm up and with it followed nine jagged rocks sharpened to points that all flung themselves at the fire mage. They pressed in on Gratin’s light shield, the force propelling them forward steadily increasing in an attempt to break through. Li’via summoned more, each addition testing Gratin’s concentration just that little bit more. He peered around at each of the spears of stone and grunted.

“If this is how you wish it to be, so be it,” he informed his opponent as he raised an arm to point at her, tensing. There was a ripple of heat across the surface of the shield that collected just in front of Gratin’s open palm before a jet of flame rushed forth, engulfing the White Mage. Too close to dodge, she attempted to summon a new shield but was a second too late, the flames clearing the distance before the shield could fully form. She screamed as she was roasted alive, the spears plummeting to the floor as her heart stopped.

Gratin felt sombre as he lowered his hand, staring at the fried remains of his opponent.

“I am sorry. May Jehoth look on you favourably…” he muttered.

The enemy sniper surveyed the battlefield. The two humans on the opposite cliff had been doing a good job at keeping him distracted. Taking stock of his situation, he was currently bleeding from several points where bullets had just grazed him, namely on his face, left arm and right shoulder. His ammo was running low with only eight bullets left, not including his special ammunition. He fished one of these special bullets out of a pouch on his hip and examined the intricate markings etched into the casing; a multitude of over lapping triangles and circles forming a mass of lines that glowed a dull green light.

In all the time he and his friends had been on this godsforsaken planet, he had not felt the need to use the enchanted ammo. The two on the opposite ridge were forcing his hand. He would not be able to keep teleporting all night, his energy reserves already burned down quite considerably. Now was the time to up his game…

Blaise was laying low amongst a scattering of rocky outcrops and dried out vegetation. Parkinson was ten foot to her left, squatting behind a cactus. Both were glued to their scopes, fully focused on the task at hand.

“You sure he can only move 30 feet at a time?” Parkinson sceptically asked for the fifth time after Blaise had attempted to explain it to him.

“More or less. How many times do you reckon he’s jumped? It must use a lot of energy, he can’t have much more left in him…”

“I lost count around thirteen,” Parkinson replied glumly, scanning the opposite cliff face carefully. Blaise nodded, considering their situation carefully. They were in a stronger position; the enemy unlikely to have a way of restocking after each encounter they had with a group of mercenaries. How much ammo would they have brought with them? Where were they storing it? Any stockpiles would likely be in whatever underground lair the White Mage had dug out for them. The mercenaries, however, had entered the confrontation with full ammo stocks. If it came down to endurance between them and the enemy sniper, Blaise was confident they could win. They just had to find the arsehole…

“No good, I’m gonna try for another spot,” Parkinson informed her, lowering his weapon. He slowly began to back up from his crouched position, descending from the hill. Blaise spied the spark of a muzzle flare, the enemy having spotted the movement. The bullet grazed Parkinson’s hip and impacted the dirt in front of him, the Lusinian sniper crying out in shock. Blaise opened fire on the spot she had seen the spark originate from, the enemy disappearing in another flash of light. She didn’t have a chance to plan out her next move, Parkinson attracting her attention.

“What the hell?! Get it offa me!” he yelped, Blaise whipping around to see a mound of vines rapidly growing from the point the bullet had impacted, the thorny branches wrapping themselves tightly around Parkinson’s ankle.

“Hold on!” she reached down to retrieve a hunting knife from her right boot, the left being home to the derringer. The sniper would have to wait for a moment, Parkinson was trapped out in the open. He was a sitting duck unless Blaise freed him. Rifle on her back, she set to work trying to cut him free.

The vines seemed to have a mind of their own, grasping for anything that moved. The moment Blaise cut away one branch, three more grew in its place. Parkinson’s legs were rapidly engulfed and the vines were attempting to grasp Blaise as well.

“Don’t worry about me, get that prick before he does something worse!” commanded the sniper. Blaise hesitated for just a moment before nodding and turning back towards the edge of the cliff. The sound of a second shot made her instinctively throw herself to the floor, the Dark Worlder opening fire again. He wasn’t aiming at her though, instead peppering their side of the valley with shots that all spawned more of the thick clumps of vines. They rapidly expanded in to vast bushes roughly 10 feet in diameter. Blaise counted five additional shots, all spread out to cover as much of their side of the valley as possible, limiting Blaise’s sniping spot options considerably.

“Balls!” she exclaimed, attempting to crawl further down the ridge in an attempt to find fresh cover. Something snagged on her foot, Blaise glancing down to see Parkinson’s clump entangling itself around her leg. She had stayed in place a moment too long, more branches reaching for her as the one around her ankle attempted to reel her in. Swearing profusely, she lashed out with her knife in an effort to hack off the main branch holding her in place in an escape attempt, kicking with her free leg in hopes of preventing it from dragging her closer to the main clump.

Parkinson was clawing at the earth, attempting to drag himself out of the vines entangling him to little results. The vines had completely wound around his legs now and were climbing up his back. Blaise wasn’t having much luck, the red head feeling herself being dragged further forward inch by inch as more vines wrapped around her leg, other vines snagging her trousers as she attempted to kick them off. More managed to grab the hilt of her knife, winding around her wrist and preventing her from continuing her efforts to cut herself free.

The sounds of more gunshots made Blaise’s stomach sink; their target had left his plants to deal with her and Parkinson, the Dark Worlder turning his attention onto their friends.

Doug was just finishing testing his control over of his bionic arm – rotating the joints and so on – and was just about to select a new target when he felt something whizz past his right ear. He immediately swore and dodged left, peering up at the clifftop as he moved. He saw the muzzle flare of the second shot and dove into a roll, the bullet passing mere inches above his scalp.

“The hell-?” Harper began only to be cut off as Doug leapt to his feet and broke into a run.

“The fucking sniper’s on us!” he explained, risking a glance at the cliff where his friend was supposed to be, “where the hell is Blaise?!” he couldn’t see the red head from this angle and that worried him, his heart quickening as he feared the worst.

Doug ran for the nearest cover he could find in the hopes of escaping any more shots; in this case the chunks of debris left over from Li’via’s spells. He leapt across the giant rock that had once been a floating platform, slid across it and landed in the crater it had originally been taken from, Harper following suit. Mere seconds after they cleared the obstacle, another bullet chipped some of the stone away.

“This could be bad!” said Harper, breathing hard.

“You don’t have to tell me!” Doug informed her, panting as he took stock of the situation. Annie had yet to be thrown from the big man’s shoulders, hanging on for dear life as he tried to shake her off. The Captain and Thad’s duel was heating up, The Captain attempting to guard against Thad, the twos’ swords grinding against one another as The Captain’s blade had caught a downward thrust from The Gentleman, the two now caught in a stalemate.

Tupper and the squat Dark Worlder were both over by the pipe, the two engaged in a slap fight as they attempted to fend each other off. The two were at the most awkward angle for the sniper to fire on as he was situated somewhere directly above them but Annie and Thad were in danger of being picked off. Doug had to keep attention off of them.

He fished his new gun out of his jacket, took a deep breath, and broke cover with full intent to open fire on the clifftop despite having no clue as to where the sniper actually was.

Another bang signalled the Sniper had never lost sight of the soldier.

And a flash of green light indicated that Doug wasn’t alone. Gratin floated over to his friend, landing next to him with an arm outstretched as he expanded the shield.

“Meatbag,” he greeted.

“Archie. Where’s Blaise? I swear to the gods if he-”

“She is alive,” Gratin didn’t need to hear what Doug would do in the eventuality that Blaise had been killed, assuming it would be quite gruesome, “I sense she is in distress though. I shall assist.”

The fire mage took off without another word, flying directly towards the source of the sniper fire, his magical senses locked on to the one life force he could feel up there. In a panic, the Sniper unleashed whatever rounds he had remaining at the fast approaching mage, each one pinging off of Gratin’s shield harmlessly. Once in range, Gratin thrust a palm forwards and began blasting fireballs at the man. The Sniper teleported to safety before the fireballs hit, green flame engulfing the area he had been mere seconds beforehand.

Gratin allowed the flames to continue burning, fashioning them into a wall to block off that particular section of cliff to render it unusable as a sniping spot. He then took a deep breath and focused, allowing his senses to hone in on the sniper as he reappeared. The Mage’s attention snapped to the point the enemy rematerialised in the moment he sensed the spark of magic, pelting the spot with more fireballs. The Sniper yelped in surprise and vanished again as soon as he spied them hurtling towards him, reappearing another 30 foot to the right. This routine continued, the Sniper consistently vanishing the moment he rematerialised in order to avoid Gratin’s constant stream of fireballs, the clifftop soon roaring with emerald flames with only a small semi-circle left that was safe.

Blaise hadn’t given up on her attempts to escape. She transferred the knife to her other hand, sliced through the thorns binding her right hand and wrestled the rifle free from underneath her. She could see the flames erupting on the opposite side of the valley, the enemy Sniper silhouetted against the backdrop of emerald light as he was cornered. She managed to free her gun from the vines climbing along her back and swung it into position.

“Screw you, you asshole,” she muttered as she squeezed the trigger, the bullet leaving the barrel, zooming across the valley and entering the back of the Sniper’s scalp. He was so preoccupied with Gratin that he never saw it coming. His face exploded outwards and he fell to his knees, tumbling forwards, dead. Gratin quickly rallied after the initial surprise of sudden gunshot and took off to aid his red-headed friend.

He found her and Parkinson both almost completely buried in vines and very ticked off about it, Gratin setting to work burning the central mass of the magical plant in order to prevent the two from being completely consumed.

On the ground, The Captain became very aware that his fortunes were changing dramatically for the worst. His team were no longer shielded, his hacker was lying dead in the distance and the cliff his sniper had been working from was on fire. He was very much conscious of the thought that half his team were now dead. They needed to regroup.

He surprised Thad by suddenly stepping left, effectively throwing The Gentleman off. Thad stumbled forward, rallied and attempted another lunge only for the Captain to drop a flash grenade. The resulting flare of light momentarily stunned The Gentleman, Thad clutching at his eyes in pain. The Captain wasted no time backing off and yelling at his remaining teammates.

“Ergerng! Gb gur ohvyqvat!” the other Darkworlders took heed of the instruction, the Big Man finally managing to get a grip on Annie and flinging her over his shoulders. The Squat man started to run away from Tupper, rummaging through his pouches until he found a vial. He threw it onto the floor, a thick cloud of smog erupting from it which The Captain and The Big man ran into. It dissipated shortly after, revealing the trio had disappeared.

1 Kraklag is the god of light and patron of war, justice, longevity, technology and luck.

Post by Sam | August 13, 2022 at 12:01 am | The Mercenaries' Tale | No comment

Tags: Allan Parkinson, Annie Stone, Blaise, Dark Worlders, Doug McCracken, Galmanoc, Gratin, magic and mages, New Dawn, Salmanic Incorporated, Salmanic pipeline, Thad the Gentleman, the Mercs, Tupper, Twigarnians

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