Charlie considered rushing over to save Geoffrey.
But - Damn!
A bladed leg thrust towards his chest, just barely missing as Charlie dodged out the way. As much as he wanted to help Geoffrey, he simply couldn’t turn his back on this one!
Truth be told, it even might be a good thing he was the one fighting it, rather than Geoffrey or one of the rangers. It was fast, and his high Dexterity was the only thing keeping him from being made into mincemeat.
That was when he noticed movement inside the robot’s maw.
Then, with a suddenness that terrified Charlie, a long, flexible tube shot from it. He dodged, barely escaping the tube, which was greedily following him like a snake, the orifice ridged with slick oily fluids. The wolf cartwheeled and danced away, the tube following him as he spun and ducked around the room.
He weaved the tube between two metal coffins and threw a dagger. With a loud clink, it pinned the flexible fabric tube to the heavy steel of the coffin. The orifice strained and snapped, inches from his muzzle, oil dribbling onto the floor like it was some living, hungry beast.
Charlie shuddered, not wanting to know what would happen to him if it caught him. Drawing his short sword, he rolled underneath the tube and slashed upwards.
A gout of oil erupted from the flexing tube.
There was a high-pitched whir from behind him and the tube retracted with dizzying speed back into the golem’s mouth. It snapped shut, oil oozing as though wounded from the line of its jaw.
And then it was upon him again.
He could only spare but a moment to glance at Geoffrey. The bear was still shrinking, his growls and roars of pleasure had turned into yaps and whines as his proportions grew increasingly canine. In a few more seconds, Geoffrey would be nothing more than a white-furred Pomeranian.
The spider golem took advantage of the wolf’s distraction to snap at his head with its pincer arms.
Charlie gasped, a cut opening up over his left eye, blooding pouring down his face and obscuring his vision. He could barely see the golem. How the hell could he fight something if he couldn’t even see…
He could hear the dog’s whines growing higher pitched behind him as Charlie was struck with a sudden inspiration.
“Veles, it’s a gaze attack!” He cried, “Block their line of sight! Now!”
“Mud Slide!” Veles cried.
There was a flash and a wave of hot mud rushed over the battlefield. It covered everything and everyone in thick, goopy muck. That included Charlie, who had managed to close his eyes in time to not be blinded by grit.
He heard five hums stop simultaneously and let out a sigh of relief.
Then he heard the whir and click of the spider golem’s pincers as they snapped out towards the sound.
Still keeping his eyes screwed shut, he deftly dodged it. With a flourish, he lodged a dagger into the pincer’s ‘elbow’ joint. When the golem made to retract it, the obstruction caused the pistons to crush its own arm.
Charlie grinned - they could do this.
He moved with swiftness and grace, no longer worried about Geoffrey, though he hoped the damage hadn’t been permanent. If the gaze attack was like a spell, not finishing it might mean it would wear off sooner rather than never.
The spider’s limbs were dismantled, jointed, and then his dagger thrust through the visor just as it began humming. It must have cleared the mud, but as the beam struck him, he struck it. His body was filled, for a brief moment, with warm, roiling pleasure.
Then it stopped and the spider golem sagged inert at his paws.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
“Can you fix him?” Gregory was demanding, wiping oil from his ruby blade.
Apparently, the Prince had taken out two golems by himself, his sword burning straight through the queer metal armor guarding their fragile inner servos and straight into their magical cores. Charlie hadn’t expected that. He’d truly underestimated how powerful he was. Or, perhaps it was Gregory’s inherited magical weapon he should be impressed with.
“Well?” Gregory asked, pointing at the yappy lapdog at his feet, “Look at him! I can’t fuck that!”
“I mean, you could…” Veles rolled his eyes, flipping through his spellbook.
“Hardee har har,” Gregory rolled his eyes. “What is this obnoxious noise it is making?”
“It’s a dog, Prince.”
“That is no bark! It squeaks like a rat!”
“Trim!” Veles intoned.
Charlie wasn’t watching them, just listening.
He was still carefully combing mud from the fur around his eyes, dousing them with water from his hip canteen, trying to get as much grit out before he opened them.
Part of the danger of Veles’ spell was that it could inflict the blind status effect if you weren’t careful. Charlie had gotten caught in the middle of it, and while his quick reflexes had saved his eyes from the initial wave, he wasn’t sure the residual effect could still blind him. As bad as that effect would be for the others, Charlie was a rogue whose job was to scout for traps and land precision strikes – for him, being blinded was a death sentence.
“Ugh, my liege?” Geoffrey deep baritone rumbled through the chamber.
“Oh my sweet Geoffrey!” Gregory cheered.
“Alright Ein, now save my boys,” Oswin demanded.
Charlie sighed.
He had wanted to avoid this, but Oswin knew the cougar was a soul magic user. When Geoffrey and the Rangers hadn’t turned back to normal immediately, they had Palseks try Dispel Magic to no avail. So Veles was having to use up his spell slots to save them, which meant he only had one use of Trim left.
Charlie finished washing the grit away from his eyes and opened them with a few careful blinks.
Mud absolutely covered the chamber, to the point that he could just barely make out the shapes of the coffins and golems under the hardening muck. Charlie squished his way around the chamber, investigating it, looking for hidden doors and walls.
He walked past the coffins when he felt air stir the fur on his neck. Charlie licked a finger and followed the flow of air to a gap behind a glass coffin. With a yank, he pulled the coffin away from the wall, revealing a narrow passageway, completely covered in dust.
Charlie glanced from the hidden passageway to the two doors set in the far walls. He stroked his goatee. Which way should he go first?