Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Интерлюдия четвертая: "Прощание" - 2

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Creating explosive amulets is one of the easiest tasks imaginable for an artificer of any class and focus. Creating an explosion or other destructive effect with the art of creation is extremely easy, even too easy. A fair share of artifactors and amulet makers die from the unexpected triggering of their work. Virtually any action, senseless and chaotic jumble of runes, conflicting enchantments, displaced enchantments, oversaturated drives, or anything similar results in a loud bang. Something stronger, something weaker, something nothing at all, but the point does not change - to destroy is simple, orders of magnitude easier than to create. Thus, explosive toys of any kind are only one step more complicated than non-viable self-detonating structures. All you need to do is encapsulate the effect.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 10:37

So, it should come as no surprise that simple explosive amulets are common to the point of being obscene and equally unpopular. They can and often do activate without your permission. And yet, among such crafts, there are also masterpieces. Disposable clappers, clapping which knock down low-flying dragons, make plains out of mountains and craters out of plains. It is generally accepted to consider disposable expendable creations a priori as something insignificant, inferior to a reliable and firmly built artifact of reusable use.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 10:39

The Enclosed Ray, the secret of the production of which had been stolen by the Empire of Ages from Alishan four hundred years ago with great difficulty and loss, was the exception to the rule. For starters, the thing was not disposable, even if only in theory. In practice, the container-activator of the Ray was right in the center of activation, and if he could hold the magic contained in it as long as he wanted, he could not be in the epicenter of its release. There were, is, and will be few things and people that could be in that epicenter without harming their existence.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 10:41

The Enclosed Ray lived up to its name, being a ray. A single and infinitely pure ray captured and hidden inside a guardian container isolated from everything else. A pure ray from the very heart, the highest Crown of the all-powerful and all-illuminating Sun. When this ray was released, it did not behave like other rays. No. When released, before returning to the Sun, from which it was torn by force, the ray acquires the properties of the Sun, only in miniature. The resulting cataclysm could be argued in terms of destructiveness with many mythical relics, and observers even from great distances saw the flash, burning eyes, and soul felt the shock wave following it, and for a long time observed a mushroom-like cloud in the place where the enemy army used to be. Well, if everything goes perfectly and no one interferes with the activation of the Ray.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 10:55

Of course, there were different rays, and the number of them also mattered, but still, the use of such means in the capital city would have been considered treason and rewarded with execution. Nowadays, when the chances of defending not even the Eternal but the very existence of the Empire shattered by the sudden war were less and less, people had no choice but to use the last resort. Included in the list of those means are three unassuming-looking caskets that look like cylindrical containers the size of a fist. Three Enclosed Rays, three instruments of destruction, each of which could kill not even a city but an unlucky army on the march without the normal cover of the elite. If it weren't for the labor in making them, if it weren't for the danger of a planar breakthrough, and if there weren't well-known ways to offset the effect of the Ray, we'd be fighting with them and their analogs of a different planar nature alone.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 11:09

Catch an army on the march - there will be no army.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 10:41

If commanders knew about the attack, or at least suspected it, casualties would likely be avoided or minimized to a tolerable number.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 10:56

The Empire of Ages and Alishan mutually did not use the Rays, as well as a dozen other things of comparable destructiveness, primarily because they are best used against civilians, against peasants and townspeople unable to defend themselves, who would not be able to fight back. And if you start doing that, pretty soon both the Khan and the Eternals will be left without their subjects, and their lands will be raided by the same Empire of Arms. There are, of course, special types of closed barriers that simply forbid certain types of attacks from being used within the barrier. The Enclosed Ray won't burst into flames, the Flaming Hand won't ignite reality itself, and the Coming of Blackness won't unfold in full force. These barriers were used. They sheltered large fortresses and cities but always kept in mind some nuances.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.23 в 13:33

The nuances were not even hidden in the fact that, with luck, such fields could be either deceived or simply crudely destroyed. It was just that the barriers, complex, costly, and painfully sensitive, did not cover all cities, and even if they did, you could activate a gift under the walls or a couple of miles from those walls. You can strike them in the middle of abundant pastures or wheat fields, where it is simply unprofitable to put up defenses. Soon, the Empire would be left with scorched and desecrated deserts in the place of its breadbasket, while Alishan would be left without many of its cherished oases, which would be even more dangerous for them, children of inhospitable land than for the Empire of the Ages. In the last conflict, they fought to the fullest extent of their souls, even at the end! So much so that the border of the two states is still divided by a wide strip of dead lands and still dangerous epicenters of long-standing effects of high-class shock amulets and special abilities of mythical artifacts.

Camrad_RIP 02.10.23 в 13:38

There were plenty of such places in the interior of every large country. Some of the weapons of such power mercifully left behind only a scorched crater; others, while creating less direct destruction, spread a pervasive blight over the surrounding countryside, poisoning the air and mutating the flora and fauna within a few journeys of the epicenter. Many sages seriously believed the world was still standing only because it was too difficult to create such creations. Whatever the stockpile of the continent's largest hegemons was, it was not enough. Or rather, a lot of it, a lot, enough to inflict tangible damage to the opponent, to hurt him badly, but only that. You can't kill him, just as you can't stop him from using similar tricks against you. Not that this fear prevented anyone from doing so, but at least the external norms of decency continue to be observed to this day.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 11:09

The three beams that had been taken out of preservation, half of the number available to the Empire, and all of which were in Eternal at the time of the terrible calamity, were put into play not without doubts. At first, the Emperor had rejected the plan, unwilling to risk the city and its inhabitants, but the clearer the prospects of the defenders became, the less insane the plan seemed. So he was given the go-ahead, given the highest authorization, sent all the necessary passwords of confirmation, seals were broken, and powers were given. Now, however, many people wanted to ask whether it was necessary. However, with the appearance of abomination in Poets' Square, orders from the Palace came rarely and only fragmentarily, if not fragmentarily - even all the Time at the disposal of the Ruling Dynasty was no longer enough. The Emperor had given his will, and now it was up to those who were to carry it out.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 11:11

And even every single desperate soldier, staff and tacticians, elite guardsmen and wise Order mages, renowned adventurers and honest servants be important to the plan, but the main violin was given not to them, but to the one for whom worldly glory meant nothing. At the moment of Rose's attack, the barriers concealing the stronghold created by the enemy barely perceptibly shook as if an air current whispered nearby, an inaudible rustle, a whisper of doom itself. This Whisper wore a set of equipment of legendary grade, collected from the Palace's reserves specifically for the current task, was of the fiftieth level exactly, was famous for his brilliant record, and was sent here for that very list. His mind had to realize there was no one else who could have tried to fulfill his probably last mission, but he was sure that someone from the kin of the targets he had worked on had helped him.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 12:01

Whispers of these goals have extinguished much in his long, long career. It is customary for high-level assassins in the service of the state to quarrel with all those who might offer them patronage, from the enlightened Empire to the deepest provinces. So, they would value the patronage of their superiors as much as they value their skin. So they would realize to whom they owe their lives and everything else they still have. Classic, you might say. As long as you are weak and not dangerous to anyone, no one cares about you, but when you achieve something, they start tying you up with fantastic persistence. And as it happens, it's the quiet ones and other cutthroats who are easier to intimidate than to placate, which, to be honest, is quite justified - this is the kind of people who fundamentally do not understand kindness.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 12:03

Well, exceptions sometimes happen, making fun of those who once chose to suppress them morally and procedurally, but those are particulars. Whisper himself at one time personally tightened an enchanted mithril thread around the throat of his superiors. It was a nice couple, even to the point of lusciousness. They lived happily and friendly and made Whisper's life more complicated, but they died on the same day, just like in a fairy tale. He hung that thread on the wall in his lair, put it in a mahogany frame, and was not lazy to take the trophy with him every time he had to move. He had a very good day, a very good day.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 12:18

Now, the task was even more difficult, even though he had grown up since then, had become even more mature, had accumulated dirt on all his own and part of other people's superiors, and had become a true Hero of his native Empire. If his first instructor, who trained the bastards and superfluous sons and daughters gathered all over the empire and who got nothing but good heredity and a one-way ticket from their relatives, had seen this day, he would have died of rupture of all internal organs at once. It was a pity that he had long since passed away. Either Eyes had killed the old sadist, who over the years had been humiliating and maiming rather than teaching, or some of his grateful students had done it. Whisper was even upset; he had long ago prepared a personal portion of poison for the rotten bastard, even though he preferred to work with steel. He really wanted the bastard to suffer before he died. And so he went away, as it were, softly, almost benignly, the bastard.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 12:24

His thoughts of the past and the past did not prevent the lurker from continuing on his way, looking around diligently but not at what was happening. He was well protected from the fleur, even on his own, and he was packed in amulets. Some of them he'd taken off with indignation as too noisy, but some of them suited even him, though there weren't many of them. Fleur wasn't frightened, nor was he frightened by the madness going on around him. Whisper hadn't been afraid since he was a child, which didn't prevent him from cultivating a paranoid caution that bordered on cowardice.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 12:26

Having reached on the chosen path, if not perfection, then at least recognition, the newborn Hero of the Mute Strangle moved from the category of an extremely elite, but still, a resource that will never be on a par with the true masters of lives and fates, to the ranks of the previously despised and hated by him masters of this cursed life. As a dishonorable murderer should, he changed his attitude very quickly. It was difficult to live without flexible moral principles in his trade, and much more useful was the complete absence of them. Recognition of merit, officially issued awards and nobility, the opportunity to live as you wish, not as necessary, and other benefits of the newfound nobility somewhat dulled Whisper's bloodthirstiness but did not diminish his skill nor his readiness at any moment to turn into an adept of crystallized violence of the highest grade.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 11:14

He was still making enemies in droves and was only a little slower to put those enemies in the grave, which affected his paranoia and fears for his skin. By the time this whole mess started, Whisper was seriously considering swinging to the neighboring continent. Gradually, even the benefits of the Eternal were beginning to outweigh the problems he regularly brought to the ruling dynasty. Yes, each of his kind cost another province and not the poorest, but Whisper was the most problematic of them all, the most insolent and crazy. It was his origin and training. He had not come from the best instructors of the liquidators of the Eternal Eyes. His path had begun and continued for too long in the ranks of, in fact, punishers and executioners, who were sent on those missions where the most important thing was not the elegance of the massacre of the enemy of the Empire but its showiness and bloodiness, torture and brutality. They had bred a foolish madman on their head.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 11:19

Whisper was no fool, realizing that any other holder of his level would have long ago had a lot of allies, debtors, and loyal servants, being literally a state in itself. Even the fortieth step of elevation was already a rank, honor, and position. But all he had was a level, the direct patronage of the First Prince and, unspoken, of his all-powerful father, and a mountain of piled corpses behind his back and under his feet. He did not want to join the pyramid of power, deliberately rejecting such an option, because he did not want to fight with the master intriguers on their field, did not want to learn another science, to start again as an uncomprehending idiot pupil.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 11:21

He just wanted to eat the best food in the world, fuck noble ladies with pedigrees longer than a troll's dick, send everyone to fuck, and get nothing for it. Whisper realized sooner or later such an attitude would bring the situation to a crisis, but he was firmly convinced years of such a high were worth the future problems. In general, he was not mistaken, except he missed the moment of escape. The route and the new personality were ready, and the preparations for failure in the main plan were scattered in the caches, but it was necessary to run away a little earlier. And not from the infuriated High Lords, not from the Emperor disappointed in the tame dog, not from the evil ass-crawler Eyes, and not even from all of them together. The bordello freaks came to visit, turning the whole doomed city into a bordello at once.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 12:32

Aren't they bitches?

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 12:32

Despite the vastness of his talents, Whisper was not a spy but a killer. A killer whose primary purpose was to cut off lives, not to get into every orifice. He'd say what orifices and who he'd prefer to infiltrate, but that wouldn't scare the devils. It would get them riled up. And yet, and yet... Among the available resources of the Empire of Ages, only he was suitable for this role. Only he could do it. Only he, he was told, could infiltrate the center of the devil formation, leave a package there, and return. Whisper didn't doubt for a second he'd been lying about the return. As soon as the commanders were satisfied that the Rays had been delivered, or at least that he'd gotten them close enough, they'd be blown up with him. Then, those who activated them would be given orders, titles, and governmental favors, and maybe he'd get a monument to spit on. In general, he flatly refused to put on the beacon transmitter not only because the connection could be traced with an almost complete guarantee.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 11:25

The Dispersed Form is replaced by the masterly puncture of the Black Needle, tightening space and then releasing it back, the fleeting movements of traceable energy flows, the impossible curves of a body that is now blacker than darkness itself... the fluttering silhouette of Whisper passes between the signal threads, torn apart and glued together again, disintegrating into blobs of oil-colored abomination, only to evaporate into a barely discernible smoke so diffuse that even the solid walls of the signal fields perceive it as a mere fluctuation, unable to identify the threat.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 12:33

Hundreds of chain dogs, leashed by maimed souls do not notice his movements, because as long as Whisper remains in the form of Mad Smoke he, as a person and entity, simply does not exist. His strongest trick, an absolute trump card achieved through the highest rate of class attribute, five very specific titles, and a full ritual gift, mirrored in status by a rare talent. It is not a combat talent, but Distillation of Blackness does not become less valuable, allowing the mind of a Madman to take in more gifts of the preternatural Darkness than even a Hero can handle.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 12:35

Oh, so many there were who envied him. So many offered him gold, favors, slaves, and even power if only he would reveal the nature of his trump card! And all of them left with nothing because Whisper only gritted his teeth in a parody of a smile, not intending to enlighten anyone except perhaps Prince Varudo or his crowned father. Only those two didn't ask, or maybe they'd already figured it out and realized there was no clever trick. It was just that two of the three Whispering classes had the same class attribute - Blackness. Sure, he had invested in his development and had not been squeamish about rituals and sacrifices, leaving the affiliated Eyes of the Blackness-affiliated blacksmiths with a fortune, but the point was precisely the obvious. Two classes developed a single attribute, allowing him to reach one hundred and fifty pure attributes of Blackness by level forty-three - a high bar even by heroic standards, giving him a mythical active-passive invested gift that was the natural outcome of his achievements.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 12:57

For Whisper, the very notion of closed doors or sealed rooms disappeared, for as deadly as the smoke form was in its concentrated state, in its dispersed state, it was practically undetectable. This, by the way, was very annoying and caused mountains of bewilderment in the ranks of all sorts of experts in planar sciences because it contradicted the well-known postulate that Darkness in its pure form was not particularly strong in secrecy. Something about that was true because the smoke form really wasn't as stealthy as his enemies seemed to think it was... and yet not as invisible as they thought.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 13:02

Like any other technique based on the power of Madness, his smoke gave a very distinctive flash on the sensors, but in its diffused form, it could only be detected in the middle of a clear field where no other magic existed or had ever existed. Then yes. The slightly elevated background of blackness would be obvious even to a not particularly gifted sensor, let alone the aces of their craft. But when Whisper seeped into the private chambers of some impudent and free-thinking lord, that blackness did what Darkness was known for: it absorbed and contaminated, merging so much with the residual traces of protective fields and signaling magic that it was lost behind them, remaining completely unregistered. As his few friends from the same Eyes had told him, Whisper was even rumored to be not an adept of Madness but a much rarer mirror-user, only cleverly disguised. It was for that particular trait that he was considered, yes.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 13:07

The black smoke crept slowly and unsteadily through the devils' mutilated space, flowing around the prisoners and captives, crawling past the phantom bodies howling in ecstasy, drifting vaporously into every crevice, bypassing the few creatures that might have noticed it. It wasn't difficult, but Whisper wouldn't call such a walk a simple task, even though he liked to brag about his accomplishments to those who had the right permissions. Or not, but he could be slaughtered for the sake of secrecy. Advancement required absolute concentration and the full exertion of all his strength, but it was all of it, not just from above. He hadn't taken human form for about fifteen minutes now, only occasionally allowing himself a few seconds of existence to dissipate again as a smoke front. At such times, he was especially vulnerable to the fleur surrounding him, but the amulets kept the pressure on for those seconds he couldn't protect himself.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 13:10

Each transformation from smoke to flesh and back again required an inordinate amount of effort. And not because of the transformation. He had practiced that so long ago that he almost didn't feel the heaviness of using it anymore. All his equipment changed shape time after time, but to make it turn into a material of smoky blackness without losing its structure or breaking in a dozen ways was a task for a mage rather than a killer, but he had no choice. Half of his equipment, including some of his own blood-paid and earned toys, had already fallen into disrepair, and it was only by a miracle the magic in them had simply disappeared rather than discharged into the bearer or the surrounding space. He could not think of a clearer sign than that, except that he could simply step out into the creatures' gaze and say, "Here I am, bitches." By good, he had to go to this case almost naked, in the simplest clothes or a specially selected set of enchanted things designed for the smoke form. But these sets, of which there were four in Whisper's stash, could not protect him from the fleur, and the Rays were still the most unpleasant burden.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 11:39

He protected them like his own balls because if the container was damaged, he would know about it after the fact, long after the moment of atomization in the solar corona. The insulating vaults he'd been given were of better quality, an alloy of several dozen materials refined by essential forging as if it was helping to turn itself to smoke and back again afterward, but it still took effort. In a different position, Whisper would have long ago stuffed the beams into some storeroom, camouflaged it somehow, and taken off, blowing it up a little afterward. Such a puff of smoke, as one of his halfling acquaintances would say, would wipe out the lion's share of creatures. But, bitch, he can't. All the central nodes of the trade mission turned into a temple of Lust were protected too tightly, so tightly that even the Ray would only scorch them, scorch them, but not penetrate them - almost absolute isolation, albeit with sacrificial energy. It was clearly the brainchild of a fusion of the merchant' existing defenses with mass sacrifices, and Whisper wanted to shake the throats of those of the Eyes who'd missed the preparation of such a thing. It would take a large-scale ritual to activate the blanks, but before that, it would take a long, long time to infuse the blanks with blood and pain, which even the richest moneybags were not supposed to have.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 11:33

The old hitman knew a lot about victims because of his association with special publics and classes tied to the Dark, so he was confident enough in his judgments, just as he was confident that the leadership of those faggots in stylish uniforms had sold out to the Hell cocksuckers, if not in its entirety, then a significant part of it. The news had gotten out, and he had been a little involved, having shortened a couple of seemingly proven operatives on their heads at the very beginning of this mess.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 13:14

Yeah...

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 13:10

What one think about when there is nothing to think about. The smoky form had a peculiar effect on his thinking, as if the smoke were something else instead of him, which made it seem as if Whisper had something else in his head as well as Whisper. And the more one exhausted oneself with the form, the longer one stayed in it, and the more closely the two became intertwined, never to be completely disentangled afterward. At first, the coming Madness was almost imperceptible, but it came more and more often in old age. Strange and illogical impulses, whispers, and cries audible only to the gut but not to the ears, obsessive muttering and howling somewhere out there, not in the body itself, but still much closer than even in the guts. It wasn't only out of laziness that Whisper had almost stopped working in earnest. Not only. And no matter how much he denied his fear, it was moments like this, when he wasn't sure if Whisper was still in the smoke, that made him uncomfortable, wanting to go back in time and choose another path, another gift, rather than the Distillation of Blackness that had taken too much from him.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 17:14

His thoughts were jumping more and more, but his predetermined goal as the red thread was sliding along the direction of the weightless smoke, passing over another creature, pensively inhaling the Lust-scented air, as if sensing something unclear. The thought was simple: get inside the most secure part of the perimeter. If not in the ritual hall itself, where, if the clever people of the Eye of Tactics were to believe, the process of pairing the Eternal and Hell was taking place at least somewhere close. So, three Rays activated under the devil's protection would illuminate everything and everyone, disrupt the ritual, and maybe save them all.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 17:17

The change of vector of the smoke's existence is marked by another flash of pain in the now absent body, even deeper than in the body, near the very soul. The work goes on at a breakneck pace, with no expectation of further exploits. Even if he completes his sabotage, the battle for the Eternal is over for Whisper. He will not have enough strength to participate in further massacres. He will have to hide in some dark corner and wait for the cruelest consequences for his body. If he does not succeed, there will be no continuation, which is obvious.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 17:19

It was impossible to get close to the ritual hall, and it was impossible for Whisper or any of the masters he knew personally or through rumors. There was not even a fold of space, not a shift of realities, but a complete cutting off and closing, which, as the assassin, who was well versed in such things, thought, was considered impossible even at the expense of sacrificial pumping. The ritual was a thing in itself. There were no doors, only sealed and fastened walls, which were not even guarded by guards. It would be possible to break through by force only after extremely long dances, and it would be impossible to do it without being noticed. After circling, almost hitting a particularly sensitive creature with a dozen dicks for noses, Whisper pushed the smoke to another point.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 17:21

The second attempt was somewhat more successful, though it also failed. The center of the convergence of closed fields was also well guarded, and there was a full guard of elite creatures, but still, the level of protection was much lower. Probably, if the old man, wrinkled from age and the Darkness harmful to his body, had decided to sacrifice himself like a hero from the old days, he would have had a chance to take this center. With a bit more luck, he would have been able to hold off almost the entire elite surrounding the convergence for a moment, exposing them to the Rays. It was a pity, of course, that Whisper wasn't such a Hero, but he had his own story, not a story of legend, and even if there was a place for heroism in it, Whisper would stay away from that place with all his might.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 17:31

He coughs up blood as he comes back out, feeling the black, thick slurry from his mouth, vaporized by the protection of his amulets. He'd better not leave a drop of his blood here, or they'll find and trace it easily. The amulets let out a wave of cool breeze, like a spring breeze blowing in through an open window, blowing the dust off old furniture, taking away all the dirt and filth and the evil voices of the mad monsters hiding inside you. Fleur almost doesn't care. Fleur can't disturb Whisper because there's too much Darkness in him for Lust to find a place. The old man feels that a little more and he will cease to be a man, that a little more stay in the smoky non-body and the end, but it is too late to retreat. He will not have enough strength for the way back, even if we put aside the discontent of the guardsmen dying under the walls of the mutilated stronghold. They would not forgive him for the blood spilled in the empty sacrifice, and to escape from the cauldron into which the devils had thrown them would not work because there was nowhere to go.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 17:39

After allowing himself an extra second. It's an insanely long, recklessly risky time. He disintegrates again into streams of thick and viscous blackness, marking a few more of the amulets that had fallen into disrepair from the jump between forms, growing thinner and thinner until he dissipated altogether. He barely makes it in time because one of the creatures emerges from the blink right where he'd nearly vomited his Darkness-dissolving innards onto the solid stone floor. The flash of some activated technique and the howl of a burning soul, captured by the entire essence of the smoke happy, and therefore somewhat frightening even in such a state, pass by the consciousness. Contract magic, which forces any invisible person, even the most skillful, to manifest before the eyes of the contract holder, is useless now. In distilled form, Whisper has no body to manifest it, and there is no Whisper at all.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 17:42

Whisper liked the arsenal, if you could call it a place to store combat souls temporarily extracted from their bodies and turned into disposable bombs and anchors for the attacking techniques. The large and relatively open hall could not be completely enclosed, for when this launching system sent more and more projectiles over the horizon, the devils were forced to open a window in their defenses. Yes, they weren't ordinary barriers that required a two-way closure. They could hit through them without removing the protective field, but it still left a vulnerability that was insignificant to humans. The Distillate took that hint of the existence of a path, the marked direction of the release of ecstatic souls screaming from here and there as if it were an invitingly open gate. Well, well, slightly open. What does it matter if the essence does not change?

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 17:46

Whisper entered the perimeter with the next batch of prisoners and ordinary townspeople, among them a couple of cultists, who were either punished or rewarded by being sacrificed. You'd never know it. They were always happy to do anything. Under the melodious and synchronized moans, something reminiscent of the singing of the temple hymn, the people in the center of the hall gradually dissolved like sugar cubes in hot water, never ceasing to spin in an extremely primitive and fascinating at the same time round dance. The dancing was equally skillful, though Whisper doubted that a typical coal burner could do such pirouettes in his normal state. The bodies flowed downward in a honey-colored slurry, going down hollows in the stone floor to become the basis for the formation of pseudo-flesh. Some of the creatures would be repaired and healed in this way. Some of them would be given a new body if the old one was broken but couldn't be killed. But even when the body was completely transformed into this shit stinking of colors and pure pleasure, the dance did not stop. There was still a ghostly silhouette of the dancer, who immediately began to fuck the nearest similar silhouette, which had completely given up its flesh.

Camrad_RIP 30.09.23 в 11:29

One after another, the ghostly couples, less than a third of whom were of different sexes, soared up to the ceiling of the hall, turning into two sparkling balls the size of apples, circling each other as if they were still dancing. And lo and behold, the barrier opened again, and a dozen or two paired sparks flew off on different trajectories. Even before entering the creatures' stronghold, Whisper had seen these projectiles, had seen them turn from small sparks into huge clumps of rotten-golden flame, and had seen what was left of those caught in the flames.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 13:16

So that's how they do it...

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 13:15

The point was found, and there was no strength to look any further. Now, the only thing left to do was to form the body back, take off the Rays, activate them, and, in some unknown way, make sure nobody would notice these Rays while Whisper was doing the legwork. It was no longer necessary to hide in the escape, or rather, not that critical, and there was still a chance to escape quickly if at least half of the path could be traveled before he was spotted. But just as Whisper was about to embark on the final stage of the diversion of the century, if not the millennium - and let there be a bastard who could pull off something cooler than that! - another creature appeared in the center of the hall.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 13:26

It appeared not in a blink or any other familiar form of teleportation but like an obscene inscription on a freshly painted fence, slowly and gradually, as if it had not been transported but reborn right here, on this very spot. Even without his Hero status, Whisper had no doubt she was a Legend. Judging by the way it looked around, the creature could smell, if not the presence of the distillate, then the shaking in the energy background. And this despite all the bacchanalia that was going on in the hall, where any sensory equipment, any kind of sensitivity, would rather burn out the sensor's brains than help to read the energy background!

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 13:28

The devil looked like a tall and, in every sense, charming blue-skinned and absolutely bald maiden, quite human in height and even covered with some hints of clothing. Like a very lecherous parody of the nun's robe of Fiat the Merciful. She stood silently in the middle of the ritual as if listening to something she alone could see. The other creatures controlling the monstrous dance of doomed souls reacted to the appearance of Caressing Lightness, whose level Whisper's eyes could not read but were stopped by a commanding gesture. The creature continued to stand. She continued to stare into nowhere with a blank stare of violet eyes, not shifting or doing exactly nothing.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 11:47

The presence of Legend within the walls of the representation turned into a ritual knot was obvious, but their number remained unclear until now. Tacticians simply had no reliable information and for seers to look there meant voluntarily giving their souls to Lust. Nevertheless, Whisper knew for certain this was not one of the Legends who was busy with the ritual, nor was it one of the Legends who held the barriers and disturbed the stormtroopers with flurry attacks without being seen.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 11:37

With a crystal-clear realization, Whisper realized she could see him. She knew there was someone here in this room who shouldn't be. Was his defense against the seer, developed by rituals and a couple of class skills and gifts, too weak, were his amulets out of order, was the bitch herself too skillful? None of that mattered because the creature wouldn't go anywhere until she found what had disturbed her so much. Whisper, tired and unprepared for this encounter, could neither deceive nor disguise himself better, and there was no point in waiting. Time was playing against the man who was falling deeper and deeper into Madness. He could either retreat, which would not work, and there was no strength for another attempt, or throw himself into a hopeless fight.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 11:34

Whisper despised heroic ballads about glorious death in battle, preferring to stay alive, even if disgraced and defeated, but when he was cornered, which happened, those who cornered him realized too late how dangerous a cornered garbage rat was. To die by gnawing so that he would be remembered for a long time. A farewell fireworks display, so to speak, for a pleasant memory.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 11:12

This time, he does not conceal his presence, nor does Whisper have any hope of a surprise attack. If the creature somehow senses him even now, the very thought of an attack will be obvious to it before it forms. That's why the burly thug puts all his energies into one swift attack, a decisive blow to a vulnerable point assassins of his level are famous for. For all the riskiness of this, if I may say so, plan, what Whisper conceived was not suicide or self-sacrifice because there were still chances to retreat, no matter how elusive they were.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.23 в 11:32