Damian Franklin

The obsidian acolyte was very pleased with how the light spells had worked out. Recent inspiration had allowed him to make the leap in giving his constructs a Mana battery. Self-sustaining spellwork was still out of reach, but with that, it was no longer necessary to manually support the process. The new forged night sky would shine on its own for a few hours. A perfect example of need fueling advancement. Damian exuded pride at exposing the true face of the Giant’s Lair, by his stance if not in his expression. Now the tricks of the terrain were diffused. The Sixty’s assault could forward smoothly.

This battle had brought other honors and duties. To his surprise, the Council had put him in charge of the acolyte’s bombardment squad. The idea was that rather than have the heavy hitters scattered in the three main groups, they would stay at a distance and bring down the hammer where it was needed. Damian agreed with the plan as it had been partially his suggestion. It was flattering that they would put him in charge, but a real shock that the other acolytes agreed without dispute. Their acceptance was bewildering.

It was a strange reversal for him. No one had ever put him in charge of others before. Damian’s lot in life had been to be the perpetual side act. The ace in the hole you kept to make things work or prayed to for a miracle. The obsidian acolyte had enjoyed being valued for his genius, but the recent changes made him reconsider the treatment. Upon reflection, he felt that his talent had been relied upon like a computer to put numbers in than a trusted colleague.

With the Sixty, he didn’t believe that their esteem for him was anything like that. It could be that his expanded understanding of emotion aided in this. He was now able to make deeper connections than in the past. But Damian had heavy doubts about that. Thorough contemplation had led the obsidian acolyte to the conclusion that his new emotional awareness wasn’t the source. No. Simply, they valued him. The Sixty weren’t people to hold his eccentricity against him nor ignore what he brought to the table.

The experience of being valued was a new one, and quite thrilling. Damian was determined not to let them down. He promised himself to devote every effort to performing perfectly. His eyes kept a strong watch over the battlefield. The Sixty were shifting into the three-pronged formation to break and scatter the giants. No sign of the Ratsins yet, but his people’s turn would come rapidly. If the monsters wouldn’t show themselves, then they would burn them out into the open.

He turned to assess the readiness of his team. Jorgenson stood proud and tall, an electric eagerness was apparent, grin to toe. Any sign that the storm acolyte had recently died seemed to be completely absent. Or perhaps, thought Damian, Her emotional state is because of the death? Excitement for the chance at revenge? Better keep an eye out for trouble. According to books and movies, the pursuit of that can cause irrational behavior. Damian nodded with satisfaction. Quite pleased to have identified a potential issue beforehand. Extra alert, his inspection shifted to the rest of the team.

Allen gripped his rod, the flash of sparks swirled in the air around the black-bearded man. A manifestation of his Mana being charged into readiness. The hint of red in his hair seemed to have ground stronger, bright like coals being blown on. Damian was quite happy to see that his friend’s fury over their own death had cooled to sharp determination. The flame acolyte surveyed the battlefield like a hawk ready to descend.

The last member on their artillery team was the earth acolyte. There weren't any visual signs of preparation to see in Russel’s stance. He stood loosely with arms at his side, fingers twitching out a melody. Instead, there was pressure surrounding him. Pulses of vibration radiating outwards.

In Damian’s opinion, the four of them had the raw power to bombard all of the Goliath Ratsins into oblivion. Though, he also agreed that the looming titan across the way altered the equations. Warner’s distraught debriefing had made the Council very cautious. Even Phelain had spoken for slow and safe maneuvers, with only a little encouragement.

Malachi gave the signal.

The obsidian acolyte’s eyes darted to the flare of silver Mana fountaining up from their leader’s position. Everyone was in position, the formation of the Sixty vaguely in the shape of three peaks. There was no rat sign, thus Damian knew they were to play their secondary purpose to start the show off. He called the team to order, “Nicole Jorgenson, Allen MacIsaac, Russel Poole, it is time. Prepare for bombardment while Russel scans for signs of life.”

They acknowledged him with nods and a few chuckles. At first, the humor escaped Damian, but a review of his word choice brought him clarity. Using that phrase had seemed the most logical way to pass on his intent. It worked too because the earth acolyte whispered the expected chant. Dark brown Mana, like rich soil, appeared over the caster’s hands as Russel kneeled down to press his palms flat against the ground. The energy filtered into the stone as the man closed his eyes in concentration.

“Man, this place is saturated in that crazy rat shit,” groaned Russel. “Even the stones feel mad in here. That interference is limiting the range of my senses, but I can mark seven sure targets. Maybe give a few indicators of the direction of a few others?”

“Best to start with the sure targets,” decided Damian. “That will be good for the first wave. Malachi wants everything to go slowly, if at all possible. No reason to cause a rush.”

“Roger,” confirmed the earth acolyte. The nature of Mana upon their hand changed to something that looked thicker and more solid as they went to their work.

There were two reasons that the four of them had been picked up for this duty. One was the ability to bombard over distances and the skill to be able to spread it around. The second was that they all had a strong grip on manual Mana manipulation. Jorgenson and Allen had recently risen enough in skill to attune a Mana crystal. That meant empowerment via socketed rods and customized spells to expand their repertoire. It seemed to Damian that their deaths had been the spark to get them over the learning curve. This was intriguing enough that the obsidian acolyte was curious himself. Wonder how the experience would affect him. Not quite willing to seek it out, but almost.

Russel, however, was a special case. He was just a natural. As reflected by his Heartsong spells, shaping Mana by will was an easy task for him. That made the earth acolyte perfect for marking hidden targets. His intent traveled through the stone and with a delicate touch raised little towers like iron sights. Damian traced their locations, a crude arch that surrounded the Sixty’s formation before them. The obsidian acolyte summoned seven balls of energy, colored: two green on the right, three violet in the middle, and two red on the left.”

“I believe the colors are clear,” began Damian, thinking hard on the strategy worked out at the meeting. “Hit them with something big and then harass them until they reach the Sixty. After that, act where you are needed, but call out where you are aiming. That way we know what is covered, or allow collaboration. Russel, I want you focused on disrupting and staggering the incoming Ratsins. That means your primary concern is newcomers.”

Mana surged around all four of them and Damian felt exalted. The power between them was immense and he couldn’t wait to see what wonders would be performed today. Great balls of swirling flames launched to the left and spears of screaming gray-green wind cut to the right. Explosions and roars of pain fought for dominance in the air. Russel appeared to stand lazily again, but his eyes scanned both physically and through the stone. The obsidian acolyte lifted his staff.

“The Stars Streaking,

A Divine Onslaught,

Violet Flaring,

Upon My Foes,

Fall Unfailing,

Grind And Disperse,

Star Shot Unlimited!”

By his intent, a spitfire of violet shards split into three gleaming streams. A chanted spell with mild manipulation allowed Damian to keep a wider eye on the battlescape. Not being completely absorbed by the fight was safer and proved direly important a moment later. From the throned titan came a warbling snarl. The obsidian acolyte caught the sudden flare of two disturbances in the Mana. Two Goliath Ratsins dropped from the ceiling behind the main battle lines, on either side of the four artillery acolytes.

Azure electricity roiled over the two giants as their eyes roved over their expected prey. Several of Sixty called out warnings or from the back lines they rushed towards the menacing beasts. It was useless and too late. The Ratsins had only eyes for Damian’s group, their spells causing them to be beacons of Mana. Salivating the monsters charged forward at twin paces to crush the humans between them.

His three companions hesitated and seemed on the verge of abandoning their assault on the first wave. The obsidian acolyte knew that wouldn’t do. He empowered his spell to keep going a few moments more and declared, “Take over for me. I shall take care of these two.”

They didn’t hesitate to turn back to their job. Simply left it to him. Damian grinned. He had absolute faith in his ability to take care of the giants. Still, it was nice to see that belief coming from others too.

Patiently, the obsidian acolyte waited for the rat things to get closer. The ground shook with their coming and a violent blue glow preceded them. He felt a yawn coming, but they finally arrived. One dove, claws and fangs leading while the other aimed to bring both azure sparking fists down together. Damian slammed his staff into the ground. There was a burst of violet Mana and suddenly the four of them were surrounded by a bubble of his power. The leaper planted into the pliable field before being launched backward with reflected force.

When the fists of the other came down the bubble bent inwards before snapping around the Ratsin itself. Damian collapsed his hand into his own first and the bubble dramatically shrunk. The Goliath Ratsin was quickly squeezed, and bones cracked audibly. There were moans of pain, but these were muffled by its own body. The spell was difficult to maintain so the obsidian acolyte shot them like a bullet at the wall to buy time while switching targets.

The bounced giant looked disgruntled as it rose from the rubble from the wall it had impacted. The Ratsin roared at Damian, the monster’s fury was deep and chilling. He didn’t waste any time. Four great shards of arcane energy appeared above his staff and sliced through the air. The beast was easily crucified against the wall. A spear of violet pinned through each limb.

With the bought time, the obsidian acolyte observed the current state of the fight. All seven of the first wave had been engaged and a few stragglers were heading in without needing to be poked. His people had done a good job of stringing out the attacks to the front lines. Russel was almost making a queue of it. At the same time, the other two made sure the rat things that made it were already wounded. Two Goliath Ratsins were already dusting in the spaces between the prongs and others were being corralled into the same spot for similar treatment.

He nodded pleased with the Sixty’s progress. A calm smile danced on his lips as Damian said, “We are doing quite well. Everything is in order.” His attention returned to the two Ratsins. The pinned one would hold, but the tossed one was charging back. Observing it for a moment, the obsidian acolyte thoughtfully asked, “What is it people say? Yes… time to take out the trash!”

Analia Curtis

Hissing balls of darkness swarmed around her, a swirling barrier and a frightful offense. It protected her while the shadow acolyte used the storm to rapidly fire upon the Ratsins. In one smooth effort, she shot them out and called them back after eating holes out of the beasts. From time to time she exploded the orbs for extra effect, but it was a small effort to conjure more. It was exhilarating to dip into her power with such freedom. Old limits were being surpassed and her Mana whispered of new secrets. At the heart of whirling oblivion, Analia laughed.

Her position was at the crux of the left indentation in the formation’s three prongs. A place of honor and great pressure. She had been given the primary duty to be the anchor in eliminating the giants. Once they were badly injured, the monsters were allowed to “penetrate deeper” into the formation. There Analia and others would then finish them off. Playing the executioners.

While there were melee fighters to help pin the Goliath Ratsins, the shadow acolyte’s main support was two other acolytes. Their capacity for direct damage was limited to simple force bolts, but their other talents more than made up for the lacking. Analia rained down dissolving orbs empowered by Megan Dawson’s boosting enchantments upon monsters diminished by the curses of Naomi Yatamoto. A winning combo that made her feel like a goddess of destruction. Darkness moved at her command and brought ruin to her foes.

The three of them slung spells ready to become the endpoint of any giants sent their way. One had already fallen to dust and now another was enduring her barrage. Death had enlightened her about the immensity of darkness. The vastness that was absence. For shadow was what light isn’t and void was a place where nothing is. Analia had experienced void. Seen oblivion and survived a brush with that maddening doom. Now, she saw the truth of what was between all things. Felt that which went through all pieces of reality. The shadows were hers to command. Every shadow.

A Ratsin blind with rage charged down the corridor it was allowed, howling and surging azure power in all directions. Analia smirked and sent a flurry of gray-coated orbs. Her power battered the monster, buzzing off flesh and fur. It kept rampaging forward even as projectiles made the giant stumble and slow. The shadow acolyte embraced her enlightenment and let the heart of it sing free.

“Darkness Soaks All Things,

Threads The World Taut,

Everywhere But Nowhere

Those Shadows Do Hunger,

Drooling To Devour Us All,

Pulling All Into Its’ Depths,

Abyssal Consummation!”

Analia’s shadow exploded into size, swift tentacles of darkness spreading outwards across the ground. The shadows upon the Goliath Ratsin deepened and reached out invitingly to coming tendrils. The monster slowed as if a great burden was suddenly placed on the beast. Shaded bindings griping painfully, pinching flesh to the breaking point. Struggling under all the weight of the conjured substance, the giant came to a full stop. Forced to take a knee. Darkness rushed in to pool beneath. Thrashing waves of oblivion burned at the rat thing.

Gray oblivion pulsed from the shadow acolyte through her shadow to the Mana grappling the monster. Hissing filled the air as the bindings dissolved what they touched and pulled tighter. Azure blood oozed as the Ratsin slowly sunk into the hungry pool. The feet disappeared as the eager darkness rose to cover up the ankles while pulling the beast deeper into the coalesced shadows. Screaming and thrashing the giant tried to break free. Analia fought her best to maintain the spell, to see the whole rat thing devoured. It sank to the hip before she gave a gasp and was forced to let the Mana construct go.

She dropped to her own knee with exhaustion, but smiled with pride at the sight of her work. The conjured darkness had faded away and left the Goliath Ratsin like a fish abandoned by the tide. It was crippled. Between the effects of oblivion and void, the lower half of the monster was a wreck. The thin raw legs twitched feebly and were unable to shift the giant. It growled and gnashed teeth in all directions as the monster dragged itself around by the forearms.

Analia hadn’t killed the giant alone, but had done enough that it was a foregone conclusion. Those of the Sixty in her area moved in for the coup de gras and she was able to relax for a moment. Just to catch her breath. The shadow acolyte knew she needed to be ready before more came. Her new spell was draining and there was still the big one to worry about.

Soren Hill

Across the battlefield, the gunman dashed. The crystal gun was a beacon of violent red light and his brand new revolver gleamed under the mage lights. The extra firepower aided him in the role that Soren had taken for himself. Charged with his Mana, the revolver clapped the air and a bright object slammed into the falling fist of a giant. An impact to nudge the trajectory to barely miss one of the frontliners. Firing a pulse of his magic popgun seared the chest of the rat buying the Sixty the time to reposition.

He struggled against it at first, but his role had become clear in this battle. What he could do. His power just wasn’t enough to be a star player in the fight. The asset of his eyes allowed Soren to make these quick adjustments. His guns couldn’t kill these giants, but saving lives was within his capacity. Back and forth, from one end of the battlefield to the other, he raced. Guns blazing to unbalance and distracting. Buying a breath.

There was satisfaction in that. A great deal, but the gunman felt like he failed to keep up with a lot of the Sixty’s progress. That Clarissa had left him behind hurt the most. Soren had thought of them as rivals, while acknowledging his part was to trail behind. But still a rival, and yet that couldn’t be said to be true anymore. The redhead had seen her limitation and had somehow surpassed it. She had stayed at the head of the pack and the gunman had fallen behind. It hurt his pride. Moreover, the decline left him in confusion. Being best had once been an easy effort for him.

In the time before waking up here, Soren had been one of the best in his profession. Moving up from local cop to federal agent wasn’t an easy task. For most at least, but for him, it had just been the natural progression. His mind over the years became the perfect machine for sleuthing. What took several eyes and looks, took the gunman just a glance in most cases. It came easy and in his heart, the expectation had burrowed deep that everything would be that way.

That wasn’t so with Mana. The basics had come to him easily. Call it up, imbue yourself and the gun with it. Soren had accepted these concepts quickly, but that hadn’t been enough. His power didn’t grow. No wonders or miracles came about because of his Mana. Slowly, he fell behind because pushing himself did nothing. There was no expansion of his abilities. The gunman had thought the revolver might make a difference, but it didn’t.

Racing about in search of those right moments, he was coming to realize why. All his efforts had been entirely practical. A concept that didn’t quite apply in The Pit. Not in the normal ways. Rationality had been twisted into something new and Soren wasn’t keeping up with that. There was literal magic now, everything had shifted. The capacity was within him, but the gunman hadn’t been exploring it right. Pushing the body, not the mind.

He wasn’t asking the right questions. Of himself nor the magic. It wasn’t enough to ask how. Soren had dismissed Mana as only a tool or skill to use. It's more. Mana was him and he was It. The gunman grasped that one needed to ask why. Scream to the heavens and to the depths within. His practically had blinded him, but he felt that a trace of the right path was finally in view. Too late for this battle, but there was hope for the next.

The Titan roared.

Soren felt himself freeze and everything in his view did too. Even the Goliath Ratsin paused. Whether rampaging or suffering, the monsters went still. All eyes tilted to the massive horror. It rose from the crude throne and from behind the seat, a mad glare surged to fill the cave. Azure light with almost white intensity turned the master of the giants into a grotesque. Silence allowed the first step of the Prime Ratsin to echo like an ocean wave.

Then there was a flurry of activity. Terrified giants went berserk and the Sixty rushed to quickly slay them. The Titan was coming.