Chapter 13-383: Topping Things Off (2/2)
“If Sama brought it up, she’s as munchkinny as they come. It’s probably really good.”
“Ah, then you will doubtless love to hear this...”
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Legion left after I reached the coast and resumed the mapping of the oceans. They were not required for that, as I could simply Water Walk and Part Water for Sleipner, as opposed to a Ward Ride over the rough terrain of Africa.
They had some Karma to make for the Cohort, getting Skills and Feats into place. In the end, they weren’t hugely concerned with advancing their ceiling, as the Karmic Costs would be high, but everything would come with time... and time they already had an Eternity of.
I could potentially do the same if I paid off a Succubus’ Racial Levels, but I wanted my Atlantean first, at the very least. No need to give it up if I didn’t have to, and it would be even more insulation against any demonic influence... although the simple fact I was paying off the Sin of a succubus’ existence with positive Karma should outright deal with that.
Hmm. Karma I had massive amounts on. I could start allocating, just not actualizing? Then, when it came time, I would already have it pre-spent, and could just bring it online...
Sure, why not? I was basically earning more than I was spending every day. Nothing more than planning ahead, after all...
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“You do not know what you are doing!” the old werewolf called out, somewhere between a gasp and a curse, and for his words earned a kick in the muzzle that sent him flying into a wall with a crunch.
“Useless mongrel,” the armored magenta-furred foxwoman spat without looking at him.
The white foxwoman had Diminova, the Five-Tailed Witchwolf Queen of the Borea, down on the ground, glowing golden claws about her fingers buried in the battered, bloody, and broken skull of the Borea’s Matriarch. The foxwoman’s toothed smile didn’t change as the massive hybrid form of the werewolf tried to writhe and twist... but all four of the Witchwolf’s limbs were broken, her back, and most of her ribs and collarbone, along with both her upper and lower jaws.
Her personal guards, champions, and amours were scattered about the place, none of them left intact. The Boreans had holed up to await the assault of the foxwomen... and then they had fallen when the pair finally came.
With a dire boom, the last of the Banes that Sealed the Formation below was shattered by that lightly hurled monstrous Axe, handled with such ease by the armored magenta foxwoman whose every step made the ground quiver.
That trembling stilled for a moment, as if countered by a force from below, and the whole world seemed to pause.
“Ah ha!” the white foxwoman announced, as the old shaman Dimitro looked on. The golden claws clenched right through his queen’s white fur, and pulled.
A transparent face came out, clutched in those golden claws. It was horned and demonic and very, very not the face of his queen in any of her forms.
As it was pulled forth, the five tails of his queen, the symbol of her power, collapsed into one.
A true tail and four tentacled stingers rose and tried to stab at the foxwoman, who simply closed her hand with a crunch, and golden bladeclaws bit into the skull of the demon she was holding onto. The skeletal, ashen wings quivered with the five tails of the demoness as she screamed, both females ignoring the ground that was starting to split open, and the big crack going across the dais and altar they were next to.
“All yours,” the white one growled, and something came plummeting down in lines of golden light from far in the sky, wrapped around the shrieking demoness, and despite all her protests and writhing wings, tails, and limbs, hauled her up into the raging snowstorm that was howling in the sky over the caern and out of sight.
With a casual hop, the white foxwoman cleared sixty feet, and the dais and altar exploded upwards behind them from below.
Dmitro was pinned instantly in place by the overwhelming Aura of the creature that rose there. The bulbous white flesh, oozing Taint and Corruption, tore at his senses, and the ground began to frost over with rime that was not ice. A malevolent and ancient hunger stirred in the air, a hunger held at bay only with regular blood sacrifices, and now free to devour entire nations if it could.
The White Worm was free! These damned fox bitches had set the White Worm loose upon the sacred lands of the Borea!
“Wow, isn’t that impressive,” the white one remarked casually, her unearthly calm voice carrying to Dmitri’s ear despite the squealing bellows of the White Worm, and the shifting of the ground, the crumbling stone all around.
“Look how bloated it is. They’ve been feeding it pretty well. They could have starved it to death, but nooooo, gotta sacrifice to it and keep it fed...” the magenta one replied, spinning that ungodly oversized Axe between delicate fingers.
Dmitro blinked as his horrifying fear was deflected off-track. What?
“It’s a psychoplasmic entity feeding off their fears and beliefs. Like that’s a surprise. Hey, lock the Damn Thing down, will you?”
And Light came down.
It struck at Dmitro’s soul, and he could not resist letting loose a howl of pain at the searing purity of it, a cry he heard echoed by a handful of other survivors who might have been playing dead, waiting for a moment to strike... or to flee if discovered.
The howling storm up above blew back like a spiderweb before flames, and the great blue sky, the TRUE sky, as it was before this Haze brought down by human corruption and sin attracting the great Evil from beyond, was once again visible here in the cold, cold lands of Siberia.
The stabbing pillars of Light around the erect body of the White Worm formed a pentagram that stretched all the way up into the sky. As for who had erected the Seal, there was no sign.
“Let’s teach this werewolf-leeching parasite some universal truth,” the one in white murmured, the white of her Sword girt in golden force, and with a blur of movement the swiftest of werewolves could not have equaled, she was shooting forwards.
The one in magenta was right behind her, stones exploding away from every delicate step’s crushing force, her Axe raised and ready for business.