Time Since Reckless Self-Endangerment: 5 Days 15 Hours

Goal: Save Tarquin

Before the cursed puppet could get off another shot, Nic slammed his open palm into the earth and summoned his shield from the Plate of the Sun God. A golden barrier tore through the air and surrounded him with a dome that glowed like a miniature sun. The buckshot slammed into the shield and sparked away, harmlessly, as Nic rocketed forward and jumped. His scarf shot up and grabbed the hand holding the gun, preventing the officer from reloading.

The scarf trailed behind Nic as he shot along the ground, slipping between the man’s legs and then turning to dart back the other way.

The maneuver left the scarf wrapped around the man’s wrist, between his legs, and around the back of his right knee. A perfect clinch.

Bracing himself against the sands, Nic pulled hard and ripped the puppet-soldier off his feet with a titanic grunt of effort, sending the bigger man crashing down backwards. Sand coiled around the officer’s arms to immobilize him.

No mercy this time. Nic lifted his axe to break a leg and cripple the cursed puppet.

But as he did, bright blue manacles appeared around his arms. They drained his strength and slowed his movement- enough that the puppet could lift a leg and drive his boot directly into Nic’s gut.

Overwhelmed by the larger opponent, Nic was sent rolling, coughing, his internals still not fully recovered from the buckshot lodged within. He dropped the scarf as he was kicked away.

The puppet ripped free of the sand, dropping his plastic riot shield and pumping his shotgun with both hands. Nic’s scarf was still wrapped around his wrist and flailing frantically, throwing strike after strike into the man’s chin.

He hardly seemed to notice. Blood dripped down as his teeth cracked and broke from the barrage.

“Nak! Get down!” Matteos called out, his upper body turning to stone as he threw himself against the weakened bars of the cage. They bent and cracked but didn’t give way.

He was going to be too late. Nic coughed, looking up as the barrel of the puppet’s shotgun swung towards his face.

As the ratcheting click and snap of the shotgun racking in a new load filled the air, Nic circulated aura to the Sandrider Blade on his back. Tearing open the ground underneath him, he dropped into the tunnel he’d dug last night. The blast pounded into the empty ground where he’d been.

The puppet blinked in confusion - and the scarf wrapped around his plastic visor, blinding him.

Nic shot up from behind on a wave of sand, his axe ripping into the man’s calf. Even the puppet had to scream as the serrated teeth of the mandible-axe tore his leg into gore. He toppled, and Nic slammed the axe down onto his arm, striking down to the bone in one overhand blow.

It was over.

The manacles dissolved. The scarf wound around his neck like a friendly serpent.

He grabbed the gun and pulled it into his bag. In the background, Matteos groaned as the weakened flames licked around his petrified hands. The bars bent, strained, and broke apart.

Nic waved, but Matteos didn’t seem entirely glad to see him.

He just grimaced and tore open the earth, revealing a set of steps leading down into the underground tunnel he’d prepared for the elves.

“Alright- and don’t get me wrong, thank you.” Matteos said. “But you and I need to talk.”

Behind him the elves were pushing out, the strong carrying the weak and the sick. They poured down the tunnel as Nic turned towards the rest of the camp.

More were coming.

As he’d suspected, the first to arrive were the puppet-soldiers. Whoever was controlling them had known right away when he’d fought the officer.

And they’d sent the rest of their cursed toys.

One man had a second set of limbs made from ice extending from his shoulders. Another was clad in chains, which shifted and moved through the air like serpents.

Two of them were perfect clones of the same broad-shouldered, dark-skinned woman.

The last Nic knew too well. It was Jessie, the red-headed woman who’d been travelling with Matteos. She hadn’t exactly been friendly towards Nic - but it was a shock to see her face drained of emotion, lit up by the fires he’d covered the camp in.

He lifted his axe towards the group of cursed puppets in a silent challenge.

They broke into a run, charging as a group towards him. Jessie lifted up a shield of swirling blue-white winds, and the chained man summoned a pair of enormous golden wings to shoot ahead.

Nic didn’t hesitate.

He slammed energy into the Sandrider Blade-

And the earth collapsed beneath them. Jessie, the twinned woman, the ice-armed man-

They all toppled down into the breach, landing hard in an avalanche of sand atop the cruel, tall spikes of hardened earth Nic had prepared to welcome them. There were screams of pain as the talismans layered onto the bottom of the pit went off.

They were inverted light-runes. Meant for lamps and simple, domestic use.

Reversed, they sucked the light in, and absolute darkness bloomed in three enormous domes over the pit, plunging the people within into absolute black as they struggled to get out. Nic grinned. It was fun, being one step ahead.

But that grin slid back into a serious, grim-blank expression as the darkness parted and the angelic-winged warrior burst forward in a beam of golden light. His wings curled in and sheltered him in a dome of golden feathers as Nic unleashed the last of his fire talismans, flinging the deadly paper amulet towards the oncoming threat.

Fire bloomed outwards and trailed away, deflected by the golden wings. Bright white runes glowed on the surface as they seemed to absorb the dregs of the fire, pulling in curls of ember and flame to fuel their strength.

The wings snapped open and the man reached out with both palms open. Glowing stars bloomed on his fingertips and shot outwards in a volley of streaking comets aimed dead for Nic.

Nic lifted a barrier of sand and dodged aside, escaping instants before the shield was torn apart by the starfire volley. As he wove across the sand, moving fast to avoid the stray shots that bent their arcs to home in on him, he called to the Spirit of Regent.

The tiger appeared in a flash of flame and rushed across the ground, a blur of orange leaping for the angelic warrior with claws outstretched. His wings curled in to guard him again, the tiger’s mauling grasp clashing uselessly against the impenetrable feathers, but the spirit had still done its job.

The warrior had no way of attacking or even seeing while his guard was up.

But the wings didn’t extend around him perfectly.

Nic stomped down, and a spray of sand engulfed the man from below. Curling tendrils wrapped around his legs and reached higher, trying to squeeze him, bind him, suffocate him. He was caught out dead - as long as his wings were closed he couldn’t move enough to escape.

But the moment he opened them he’d be torn apart by Regent.

Nic held his grip on the man until he was forced to exhale by the squeezing pressure - and Nic, without mercy, shoved sand down his throat to choke off that breath.

But it was a slow fight. A fight of constriction, restraint, and endurance.

One that gave someone else a chance to crawl out of the pit and join the fray before Nic could finish off his first opponent.

Nic’s danger sense screamed as one of the twinned woman’s clones materialized behind him, teleporting in a blink to sweep a spear towards the back of his skull. He turned on blind instinct, catching the bladed tip against his Wintertusk Bracer with a clash of sparks, and stared up into eyes without a face: she was a blurring mass of shadows and colors, with no details at all. Only two staring eyes.

Betting on her being the fake one of the doppelganger pair, Nic unleashed a torrent of poison mist. A beam of frothing black mist erupted from his mouth and the girl shrieked as her ghostly form melted away to nothing.

But there were still more coming. The man with limbs made of ice hauled his way over the lip of the pit and reached down, pulling Jessie with him.

The angelic warrior coughed, spitting up sand. Nic had been forced to release his constriction to deal with the doppelganger. In moments he’d be ready to fight as well.

Nic looked behind him. The last of the elves had already made their way into the tunnel, leaving him no more reasons to stick around and fight these poor, sad puppets.

It was time to go.

Nic threw down a final talisman as he turned and ran. An enormous flash and a piercing shriek exploded into the air as the trio raced to follow him - blinding them, dazing them, making them stumble and stagger as Nic raced ahead.

He dropped into the tunnel and collapsed the entrance, trailing a hand against the side of the cavern wall and bringing it down behind him as he rushed to catch up to the elves.

They were limping along. His gift of the balm had gotten them all ready to move, but they were still sick, malnourished, and desperate. Matteos carried an older elvish man on his back as he led the way through the dark tunnels.

At this point he could only hope Inkspur delivered his message.

There was no way these people were ready to trek across the desert.

Above, the muffled sounds of the human camp rushing to extinguish the fires and tend to their wounded faded away. The oppressive atmosphere of the tunnels lessened with every step they took - the darkness becoming familiar, even comforting, a place for them to hide.

For the moment, they were safe. They were already past the stone-pillar walls of the camp, and even if the humans realized their prisoners had escaped underground, they had less and less chance of finding the precise place to break through with every passing moment.

But Nic didn’t breathe a sigh of relief.

Not even when they emerged, stepping out into a twilight that painted the desert as a sea of gold. Everyone around him was overcome with joy, the elves sinking to their knees, Matteos tilting up his head and sighing in relief.

Nic stepped past them all and turned, beckoning for them to follow.

He’d barely survive a showdown with the camp’s most powerful soldiers. But there was more.

Somewhere out in the desert, Azmin Hale was turning around. Nic didn’t believe for a second she didn’t know he’d stolen her precious treasure.

And she’d be coming for him.

On his finger, the ring turned to silver. The golden hour was over. Now they had a long stretch of desert ahead, a brutal hike with the devils at their back.

Covering his hand in a cloth, Nic reached into his bag and took out the pearl. Even held through a layer of fabric it burned his hand with cold fire.

“Archive Recall.”