If Looks Could Kill (1/2)

It rose from below, round and horrible and glaring, with no arms or legs or physical features beyond a ball-shaped head and eyestalks protruding in all directions.

But the face was familiar. As familiar as the spectacles that adorned each of the creature's eyes.

“You ruined everything!” came the distorted voice of Missus Beemer, and without warning one of the eyes fired a blast of magic at Threadbare. Before he could react it nailed him square in the chest, and to his horror, he saw his fur start to turn gray.

But aside from that, it did nothing.

You have resisted I, Beemer's aging ray!

Your Golem Body skill is now level 56!

“You're the enemy? What— why?” Tane stammered. “Edith? What the devils do you think you're doing?”

“I'm protecting us!” The Beemer ball shouted back, maneuvering up the shaft as Threadbare tried to find cover on the platform.

“Duck behind the cage!” shouted Daffodil. “She won't risk hitting the kids!”

“No!” Threadbare called back. “I won't use them for cover. That's unthinkable.”

Instead, he directed his attention to the animus he'd just invited into his party, and with a shudder, the chains clinked as the platform started to lower.

“You want to come to me? You foolish boy!” Beemer boomed, and Threadbare dodged as another beam shot out through one eyestalk's spectacles.

But it wasn't aimed at him. The eyebeam lanced right into one of the Mannequins... to no effect.

“Hm.” Missus Beemer said, blinking rapidly. “Mental note, the sleep ray's less useful for this situation.”

“What do we do?” the Mousewife squeaked, peering over the ledge at the boss below. “I don't want to hurt her!”

“You can't, she's not really here,” Tane said and picked the Mousewife up. She squeaked, as the middle-aged man took a few steps back, then leaped out into the air.

“Oh dear.” Threadbare remarked, as Tane plummeted toward the falling platform.

It was a good jump, as it went. The man was stronger than he thought, even after a year or two of a very much sedentary lifestyle, compared to his old career.

But Threadbare could see that he'd taken the leap too early. He was going to fall short, and it was hard to say if he could grab one of the ledges below the platform. With the Mouswife occupying one arm, Threadbare rather thought his odds were very bad.

So he dug one set of claws into the edge of the platform, and stretched out as far as he could, trying to grab ahold of the falling man.

It wasn't enough.

Time slowed as Tane fell, visor open, eyes wide with fear and loathing, loathing that Threadbare could tell was directed inward. And as he fell, Threadbare knew the man would miss him by inches.

Fortunately he wasn't the only one to see the problem.

“Magic Fingers!” Graves shouted.

It wasn't much.

It was perhaps twenty pounds of pressure, all told.

But Graves exerted it in a full on shove against Tane's rump that spun him halfway over in midair, and so Threadbare's frantic swipe managed to close on the man's ankle.

Threadbare winced as stiches popped in his arms, and hung on for dear life.

“I have you right where I want you, you betraying little bear! You can't dodge THIS!” Screeched I, Beemer.

More stitches tore, and Threadbare felt his stuffing stretch. Then a pattering of felt feet up and over him as the Mousewife clambered over both of them, turning and grabbing hold of Tane's ankle, trying to drag the man in as he screamed and flailed. “You're not helping!” she squeaked at him. “Hold still!”

And then the boss blasted Threadbare with a new beam.

It was a heck of a shot, angled right between Tane and the Mousewife, and the second it hit him, reason fled from his mind.

You have succumbed to Eye Beemer's fear ray!

Checking willpower...

You are afraid for 0.0001 seconds!

...and then fear fled from his mind before he could act on it, because Threadbare's personal experiences and strange combinations of jobs had given him a willpower that wouldn't be out of place on a dragon.