Beneath the Dragoneye Moons

Chapter 575: Interlude - Baradgwend - Vengeance

Baradgwend seethed with barely-contained rage.

How dare they.

Ivyhold was dead, almost to the last man and woman. About half of the great tree homes had died, the only survivors being protected by powerful passive skills. Only a few elves had survived the vampire’s attack, everyone else dropping dead in the streets, in their homes.

There were only two survivors under level 1800.

At least the Miasma had been quick, reaping lives faster than a farmer plucking fruits from a tree. The attack had come at night, and only quick reflexes and powerful skills had prevented everyone from dying.

The body was unmistakably vampiric, and the marks of allegiance - the armor, the bat sigil, and a thousand other marks - were so unquestionably Exterreri that there’d been brief discussion if they were being framed.

Passion and anger had ruled the day, and the survivors of Ivyhold had rapidly gathered elves from nearby locations in the Golden Courts, and stormed over to Exterreri.

The trail was impossible to miss. Dead bodies had been left to rot under diseased trees, the Sentinel not even bothering to bury or otherwise dignify those he’d killed. Many elves had peeled off from the mission of vengeance, working on mercy instead.

For some reason, the leader of the expedition had agreed to this utter farce of a duel, and Baradgwend ground her teeth as the countdown began. Her trump card would instantly end this battle, and the forfeit lives of the vermin could be used as a base to begin the long work of rebuilding Ivyhold.

Baradgwend was one of eight champions, each one nearly as strong as she was. Their contributions, however, would be unnecessary - she was more than enough to finish this, and would take great pleasure in killing them all.

One of the younger elf [Thinkers] had been smart in the wake of the Ivyhold disaster, and managed to fetch the reports and knowledge the Golden Courts had on Exterreri. It had been trivial to read everything on the way over.

The troll - Sentinel Immortal, and they said elves were arrogant - was both the hardest and easiest to kill. He was wreathed in cloaks, protecting himself from the sunlight, but Baradgwend knew from long experience that the current sunlight levels, deep haze or not, would be more than enough to kill him.

His skills couldn’t extend to the cloaks. It seemed a little too easy to Baradgwend against someone with the title of Immortal, but they weren’t fighting at night, in the dark. It was daylight, however murky and concealed the sun.

The healer in the back was probably Sentinel Dawn. She’d obviously seized Immortality herself, and the reports noted no known curse observed. It went on to speculate that she had a vulnerability curse, a weakness to a particular substance, and one of the riders had peeled off to acquire Bane.

Bane was an interesting alchemical substance. It essentially took 16,384 different substances and mixed them together, from water to gold dust, from a drop of orange juice to a fleck of granite, a drop of virgin’s blood to a tiny hair cutting, then alchemical magic blended all of them together while managing to retain the metaphysical properties of all of them.

Legends had it that White Dove had personally bestowed the formula upon a great elven [Alchemist] in aeons past, which Baradgwend only half-believed.

No elf would need White Dove’s assistance in brewing up such a potion.

Her durability had been noted, but Baradgwend had yet to find someone who could survive their head being turned into a thousand pieces.

The bird on her shoulder was, impossibly, a phoenix. The matched level suggested a bond, and Baradgwend was wary of the skills that could be shared. If, somehow, impossibly, the healer was able to borrow resurrection, this battle could become far harder, and would explain why a mere [Healer] had obtained the title of Sentinel. Still, Tromokrasis should be able to drown the ashes of the hummingbird phoenix repeatedly, a minor cleanup.

The four humans weren’t even worth considering. Each would be a flick of her wrist, perhaps removing their helmets first. Maybe she could get them to stab each other, that was always good for a laugh.

And the wyvern? Ah, the wyvern would be a kill of legends.

“Sixth Legion. Fire all potions.”

Base treachery. How unexpected from the little mortals, trying to gain any edge to fight the elves. It didn’t matter how many edges they tried to work out, they would die. Baradgwend had more than enough time to roll her eyes as the order rippled through her ranks, activating her trump skill.

[For a Single Moment in Time, I am The Gale]

The world came to an effective stop around her.

For a single second, Baradgwend could move faster than the wind, faster than a lightning bolt. It was ‘only’ a second, but given how nearly everyone else was frozen, and the strength of her skill? It was practically an eternity in which she could move around with utter impunity.

The restrictions on the skill were horrific, but it didn’t matter if everyone else was dead at the end. Baradgwend took a moment to survey the scene, nodding to herself.

The soldiers were in various degrees of shock and obedience, the furthest [Legionaries] already putting their hand to their belt. It was passingly clever with how the soldiers had been arranged, the treachery clearly preplanned. The further ones would react faster and throw harder than the closer ones, and all of the alchemicals would land at the same time.

Baradgwend might slash the potions, if she was feeling generous. The treachery meant all the soldiers had to die, and that was going to end up boring her to death. Maybe she’d leave a few behind in the end, let some of the other elves get a few kills. Only when she tired of slaughtering the unmoving troops.

The [Warrior of the Wind] unscrewed the Bane potion, carefully pouring it over her blade. It should last an hour, no matter how much blood it was washed in.

She sauntered up to the line, sword casually over one shoulder, and smirked at the first soldier, eyes hardened and focused where she had been, not where she was. She flicked a finger out and undid the clasps of his helmet, ‘dropping’ it next to him. Gravity hadn’t figured out yet that it needed to pull the helmet down, and it just hovered there as Baradgwend worked out the first cut to make.

There was poetry, artistry in murder. Different styles and techniques to keep things interesting and engaging, for boredom was the foremost enemy in this second of time.

Down the jugulars. She decided. Should make a fine spray.

A quick pair of cuts across the neck, and Baradgwend sighed, before ramming her sword under his chin, and up and out through the top of his head.

One down, two thousand to go.

There was no notification, not that Baradgwend expected one. It took time for the System to realize what had happened, for raw biology to ascertain the death of the soldier. In time, Baradgwend would start to get notifications of her efforts, of the kills she struck. The first one was her reminder that she needed to hurry along, that there was only a single second of time, and while she was fast, time was passing along.

Was there any particular humiliation she could cast upon this soldier? No, no, there was no time for that, and besides, he only looked a little fancy. If anyone should be humiliated, it should be the Sentinels, brothers and sisters-in-arms of the sinner who’d slaughtered Ivyhold.

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The reminder had Baradgwend gritting her teeth, and she cleanly lopped off the second soldier’s head in a rage-filled strike. Flecks of blood came off her sword then slowed to a crawl in the air, the distance already traveled a measure of her anger.

Two down.

The third soldier was slaughtered as Baradgwend skipped over to the troll. She grabbed and ripped the cloaks off him, exposing the armored hulk to the sunlight. She squinted up at the sun and studied the troll.

Huh. He didn’t instantly die to the light, there was no notification, and unlike biology, White Dove’s curse didn’t wait to see what was going on. There had to be a secondary trick going on, but a quick study of his possibly-adamantium armor didn’t reveal any latches or joints she could easily pry open to finish the job. A quick pull on his sword and shield revealed that they were held tight, and Baradgwend knew she was fast, not strong - trying to pry the weapons out was a losing move.

Fine. Baradgwend knew he’d be tricky. Once everyone else was dead, she could loop back and try again. Maybe reposition everyone to stack the battle.

A wave gently pushed over her, and she glanced back to see Lightning coming from one of her fellow elves, a crackling protective net looping over all of them.

About time. She thought. It had only been a millisecond or so since she’d moved, but it was a good reminder that her time wasn’t unlimited.

The fourth human was in different armor, impractical wings on her helmet. No holes for the eyes, which was unusually clever for a mortal. The neck joint wasn’t entirely closed, unlike the troll, and Baradgwend managed to slide her sword up and in, wiggling it back and forth a bit to ensure the brain was destroyed enough before sliding her sword out.

Unusually hard-headed. It often felt a little ‘mushy’ inside after a few strokes, but this woman had felt ‘whole’ the entire time. Baradgwend was a perfectionist, and would kill them all. She fiddled with the straps for a moment before throwing the helmet off, stabbing the knight through one emerald-green eye before ripping through to the other one.

Four down, one skipped, it was time to handle the healer. Baradgwend skipped over, not even bothering to try for a killing stroke before removing her helmet. The strap was clearly reinforced by a skill, but she wasn’t cutting through helmet straps, she was manually undoing them. She threw the helmet off the short woman, sapphire blue eyes twinkling with all the stars back. Baradgwend smirked at the undeniably pretty [Healer].

“How’d they make a [Healer] a Sentinel?” She half-wondered, half-mocked out loud. It was the little things that kept her going. “Shouldn’t you be support for your knight, not the other way around?”

She chuckled at the idea. Humans. Not particularly bright, Baradgwend had spent quite a few years trying to teach, educate, and uplift various mortals, but at the end of the day, there was no helping them. Not for real, not anything long-term. Baradgwend only had to blink, and the carefully educated mortals were dead, their great-grandchildren squabbling in the mud, breaking tree branches and ripping leaves. Baradgwend flicked one of the Sentinel’s hairs out of the way, sneering at her.

“Well, it won’t matter where you’re going. Better luck next time, maybe you can be reincarnated as an elf.”

Unlikely, to say the least. The Sentinel would be lucky if she came back as a slug, with supporting Exterreri so openly. The [Speakers of the Gods] claimed that the deeds one did in life impacted the next in the great cycle of Samsara.

Baradgwend was just about to strike when one of her skills warned her. She jumped back and off to the side right as a beam of Radiance ripped through where her head had just been. She whistled to herself and reevaluated the Sentinel.

“She has seized Immortality herself. Tricky, tricky, hiding such powerful Radiance behind an innocent [Healer] tag.”

Reluctantly impressed by the demonstrated reflexes, Baradgwend reminded herself that mortals weren’t all complete idiots, and that she should get a move on. Carefully moving around the shimmering beam of Radiance, Baradgwend wasted no time slicing and dicing the healer’s head into a thousand tiny bits, having complete faith that the Bane would strike true even if her healing could somehow, impossibly, handle the devastating wound she was about to commit.

The elf deployed one of her skills, [1024 Slashes in a Single Moment], neatly cubing the head into thousands of long pieces. She spent a moment studying them, noting they weren’t healing and coming back together, then stabbed the healer through the heart anyway, just to be certain.

To add insult to injury, Baradgwend took the bloody slices of brain and skull, and mashed them around the phoenix, attempting to drown the bird in her bond’s blood. She eyed the wyvern and sighed.

A battle that should be worthy of legends, reduced to chopping wood. She climbed up the armored plates on the wyvern, reaching a delicate part where the neck met shoulders. Several buckles and clasps later, and Baradgwend was stabbing down, cursing as her blade was turned by the hardened scales.

Neither armor nor scales were for show, and Baradgwend’s method was to usually bypass the armor. Several blows later, most of them backed by active skills, and she just barely got a single scale scratched.

Fine. The wyvern would be a worthy battle in the end, perhaps even tameable and rideable, given the saddle and armor. A worthy mount for any who could claim it. Baradgwend climbed down from the wyvern and began the bloody and boring work of slaughtering the soldiers.

Eight to one. She decided. She’d think about every dead friend, every dead acquaintance, and make a bloody offering to their soul as she was killing the Exterreri citizens. From Nurchon, an occasional fling of hers to her little nephew Cindir, dead before his System unlocked. Canor, who always slipped in an extra helping when she bought sandwiches from him, to Silevre who could never stop fussing over her flowers.

[My Memory is My Life] lent her crystal-clear clarity and knowledge of the thousands of people she’d met and known, dead by Exterreri’s hand in the span of a night.

Today was only the start of her bloody vengeance.

Stabbed through the eye, cut through the neck, or stab in the heart. Eye, neck, heart. Eye, neck, heart. Baradgwend fell into a flow, methodically slaughtering the soldiers who’d oh-so-helpfully lined up. More potions were slowly taking to the air as time passed, and it was clear everyone was moving. Shadows slowly contorted and rose up, each soldier cloned in pure darkness.

That was a skill to possibly watch out for - Light and Dark were both faster than her, as the Radiance from the so-called [Healer] attested to. She wasn’t the only one who could make the most of a single second, skills were flying with comedic slowness and the helmet she’d let go of was a quarter of the way through its drop.

She frowned a little at that, looking over one shoulder while mindlessly reaping the lives of the [Legionaries] in front of her. She should’ve gotten her first notification by now. Perhaps everyone was moving a little faster than she thought.

Baradgwend laughed at the Valkyrie’s final strike. She must’ve dawdled longer than she thought in front of the healer, for the dead woman was cleaving an axe towards the [Healer]. At the current trajectory, it would take off the remains of her partner’s head.

The troll was lumbering forwards, and Baradgwend flinched as a beam of Lightning thicker around than her waist arced from the wyvern’s mouth, devastating the ranks of the elves.

Huh. The first soldier was still moving. Baradgwend was sure she’d gotten his brain stem, and the only thing he should be doing was collapsing to the ground. There had to be an active skill that was used right before she’d killed him, and the body was being puppeteered through the motions. That was a piss-poor skill. It was always better to have a guiding intelligence behind the movements. Something to keep an eye on, but there shouldn’t be any risk where she was. The Exterreri forces wouldn’t want to smack their own troops.

The arrows unleashed in a devastating wave from the elves would take time to reach where she was, and it would be simple enough to step around them.

Baradgwend frowned as she finished the bloody circle. At least half a second had to have passed by, and there wasn’t a single notification yet. Everyone was still up and moving, although there was some unfortunate friendly fire going on with the Exterreri forces. The [Warrior] built like a brick shithouse had chopped through the healer’s neck, and was now in the process of ripping out her mauled heart.

Mortals.

None of them had fallen yet, and there wasn’t a single notification. Notifications didn’t take this long to come, and Baradgwend hopped over to the first warrior she’d struck, pausing and peering closely.

There was still a bloody line on his neck, but a quick lick of her thumb and a cleaning revealed perfect, unblemished skin underneath. The same was true of the second warrior - in the picture of perfect health. Baradgwend stabbed both of them again with great enthusiasm, then dashed over to the weakest soldiers she’d started with.

They were alright.

How!? The seasoned elites, maybe, but the rank and file!? She double-checked what [Assess] was telling her, seeing [Warrior - 175] returned. Baradgwend sliced him again, head to groin, splitting him apart and watching what happened closely.

It took eight of her heartbeats in the dramatically sped-up world before his flesh writhed and stitched itself back together. Disbelieving, Baradgwend sliced him up again, dicing him into ten thousand tiny pieces. Surely he couldn’t come back from that.

The sky lit up as the thousands of thrown potions exploded in a cascade, some Lightning skill igniting the potions. Baradgwend ran through the line, her sword like an extension of her arm, flicking up and down to cut throats as quickly as possible.

This wasn’t possible. This wasn’t possible.

The phoenix exploded from the blood in glorious rainbow flames, a dozen burning meteors conjured around her, launched towards the elves. The troll was charging forwards, already halfway through. Baradgwend cut and cut and cut and cut, yet the notifications weren’t coming. Bodies weren’t falling. She looked around wildly, trying to find the source of the problem, and sucked in a cold breath.

Bane, slicing her head into pieces and stabbing her in the heart hadn’t slowed the [Healer] down at all. Her head was back, whole and hale, and she looked none the worse for wear.

It wasn’t a vulnerability curse then, and somehow she could survive her head being effectively disintegrated. Baradgwend rushed over to the command structure, and cut down all the officers one at a time, striking down the standard and throwing the [Legata’s] head to the ground.

All in the memory of Lastril and Maidhel, who loved nothing more than to see a budding tree’s leaf unfurl in the crisp spring. The three of them would rush out as winter’s icy grasp started to fade, searching the endless forests with golden beams of light piercing the canopy. Waiting for the first delicate leaf to naturally bloom.

Baradgwend had been the one to find their bodies. Found them holding hands, even as they died. She kept their memory as she hacked down the command structure, jumping back to watch.

She cursed as a whole body regrew from the Legata’s head, bark-capped boots stomping on her skull furiously to try and break her, kill her, do something.

Nothing was working. The elf screamed in rage and frustration.

Why wouldn’t they just die!?

Baradgwend tried to run several soldiers through with a spear, keeping it in their body to make sure they died. The first attempt failed, the spear dissolving in her hands. The second time she kept ahold of the spear as she rammed it through some random [Scribe’s] head, holding it there for a long eternity. Whatever was going on, ten feet of wood through a brain, reinforced by skills, should be enough to get a kill.

Her lips curled back in a snarl as the stolen weapon worked, refusing to dissolve or break. Baradgwend felt like an eternity was passing as she stood there, spear in head, simply waiting for the kill notification. It had to come eventually. The battle slowly raged around her, people making their first opening moves.

Baradgwend was turned the wrong way, her skill already used, and didn’t see the beam of golden Radiance that burned through her skull.

It didn’t instantly kill her, but there wasn’t enough brain left to create a coherent thought before Black Crow fluttered to her right shoulder.

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