Worthy Core

As the Domain rains fire down on the level below, the watching defenders don't simply sit there and take it. Barrier spells, wind storms, ice walls, anything that can contain the flames without giving away their positions gets used as much as possible. They can't stop the invaders from clearing out something of a landing area, but at least they manage to mostly maintain the careful defenses they'd spent so much time putting together.

Finally, Gerlosius brings the fireballs to a stop. "Halt! No point in wasting more of our mana reserves like this. Is everyone aware of their assignments?"

The army's squad leaders answer affirmatively, but Pretty has a question. "How would you like us mercenaries, commander? A few of us can fly."

To his surprise the draconic shakes his head. "You have done enough for now - I know you've boosted our troops despite your own injury, and many of your colleagues need some recovery time of their own. The Domain army is not without its own skilled specialists, you know! I shall be leading the army in this advance myself, with the remainder of the Dungeon Legion as support."

The incubus is a little surprised by the decision, but he can't disagree with the logic. Only a few Supremes had died in the recent battle, but between injuries and mana-exhausted mages, a rest would certainly do them some good. Mostly he's just surprised that the army isn't expending them fully in order to preserve their own numbers. He's not about to say as much, however.

"Very brave of you, commander. We'll be here, providing what support we can. Perhaps Tiffany can help with that?"

The blonde arcane demon nods. "My range doesn't cover the entire trip down, but I can compress enough space to save you...twenty feet of travel or so? For at least a few minutes. It should give you an edge."

"And I'll be glad to have it! Cast your spell, Warp Mistress, and then we'll begin! Fliers first, then squads down the ladder in order, quickly! For the Dragonlord!"

As soon as Tiffany indicates that her space-warping spell is in effect, the next assault begins. Flying demons, draconics, and the few remaining flight-capable monsters of the Dungeon Legion begin pouring through the widened hatch, seeking out targets. At the same time kobolds and ground-bound demons start sliding down the ladder at top speed, and Gerlosius himself joins the second squad.

Had all of these defenses been set up as opposition to a standard dungeon party, something with a dozen members or less, the clearing of the final section of Floor Ten would likely have been a slow, careful affair marked by occasional traps or monsters as guardians burst out of the surrounding fog. The soldiers landing on solid ground have no interest in sitting around in a death zone however, and the defenders can hardly allow for the Domain to capture the floor's airspace uncontested.

Spells and arrows begin firing up from the ground-level mists, targeting the fliers, and the Domain rapidly shifts to seeking out those defensive positions in turn. In the cases of mages that usually involves firing off spells of their own in return, but for many of the draconics and monsters they choose instead to swoop down to engage in melee battles. In a few cases the defenders are able to intentionally draw out such responses - tricking the draconics into flying into massed strands of magical webbing, capturing them like the world's most prideful flies. Not all such defenders are that well concealed though, and many find themselves fighting for their lives in hand-to-hand combat.

The other troops meanwhile quickly get to expanding the limited 'safe zone' they'd cleared out around the ladder. The mystical webs are highly resistant to swords and axes, but wherever possible the soldiers get to burning them down with flames of magical or alchemical sources. In other cases they're simply worked around, with elementalists creating bridges or barriers of ice or stone to try and cross or tear them. While they do make some progress, in some cases this leads to a false sense of security. Traps abound whether created by the dungeon itself, Challenger rogues, or the Lady of Runes. The soldiers move quickly in every direction, and just as quickly begin losing soldiers to explosions of flame, acid, and lightning.

Gerlosius is undeterred, however. "I smell Rainlander blood! Forward! Forward to the deaths of our foes!"

In one distant pocket of webbing, surrounded by traps and guards, Lady Gilda Highbranch sneers. "Do you feel it, Raylin? From that red draconic in the center there?"

While the dungeon's fog is just as opaque to the Challengers as it is to the soldiers, the fact that the Domain's cleared out the space around themselves does tend to make them easier to see. "I hear him, certainly. Their officer I assume? Is there something special about him?"

The half-elf nods. "I've felt such things before, when watching the training put on by some of my father's army commanders. That man is a bardic leader."

Raylin frowns. "He certainly has a good speaking voice but I don't see any instruments, or hear much of a tune."

"Hrmph. I suppose you might be more familiar with those of the Association, who tend to be more...eccentric. No, Raylin, bardic refers to the class of magic which enhances those around them through the use of song or voice. If he commands his troops to hold steady they may literally become harder to kill, if he orders them to move more quickly, they'll become faster."

"Right, then." Raylin prepares his bow, nocking an enchanted arrow gifted to him by the dungeon. "That makes him our primary target then, I assume?"

"Very much so. Just...be cautious."

The Eagle-eye Lord smirks. "Fog or no, I believe I can hit a target that easy without too much trouble. Here's hoping the arrow is as good as advertised, though..."

As the noble's arrow flies into the air, it does indeed perform as expected. The enchanted arrowhead charges up, and just as it impacts the commander's armor it erupts into a spectacular fireball.

Unfortunately, Xenia wasn't the only one to have equipped her best people with enchanted gear. Gerlosius staggers from the impact, but when the flames die down the man is unharmed - shielded by a barrier powered by his armor. "Elite sniper! Squad Four, return fire on - ah!"

Of course, Xenia didn't give the archer one good arrow. A second arrow strikes the man, charging him with lightning, and a third lands but a moment behind, blasting him with a hurricane-force wind that sends him bowling over several kobolds standing behind him. Still the man survives, and hardly injured at that - but he has been quite distracted from issuing any orders for at least a minute or two.

Unfortunately, he did get out enough of his last command for his soldiers to take action. An archer-heavy squad begins returning fire on Raylin's position, forcing Taylim and Sweet to step forward and intercept the shots. Taylim's heavy shield does most of the work, but the Bloodletter by his side actually proves quite adept at smacking arrows out of the air with her long daggers. It's something of a stalemate for now, but the melee members of the Domain squad are already working to clear a path towards the Highbranches.

As a Lady of Runes, Gilda doesn't have much to offer in terms of ranged combat...or so she would like people to think. As the others draw most of the attention however she quickly gets to painting runes on handy rocks, tossing them forward like magical grenades, and grinning as they explode into shards of stone. Her smile soon fades as she sees their limited effect, however.

Taylim offers his insight on her results. "Perhaps our lady should spend more time - hnh - training her throwing arm, hrmm?"

"Oh, shush! I'm sure I'll get a few once they get closer - wait, above!"

The guards shift their attention just in time to see a trio of draconics slam down on their position. They're not Supremes, fortunately, but any draconic is a difficult opponent and for the moment the worries of incoming arrows are pushed to the wayside. Sweet in particular leaps in front of her charges. "Behind me, my lady! I shall see to these foes!"

A yellow-scaled woman laughs at her bravery. "An oversized pup wants to bark at us, does it? Perhaps we'll bring you back to the Dragonlord as a trophy, once we've slain these useless nobles of yours!"

In the woman's limited hindsight, she really should have started casting her spells before taunting the Master-tier plains gnoll. Her threat ends in a gurgle as her throat suddenly begins spurting blood, and her fellow draconics blink at the speed of the attack.

"Watch her blades! She's fast!" A blue-scaled warrior moves forward with a blade of his own, a sword that would be a two-hander in almost anyone else's hands, while the green-scaled mage behind him begins casting elemental lightning attacks. Taylim moves to intercept the first, while Gilda herself defends against the second. At least, the runes she spent half an hour preparing beforehand do, anyhow. As the mage fires off his first bolt of lightning, a reflective rune in the floor between them activates, blasting his own spell back into his face.

Taylim's opponent is not so easily handled, though. He's swifter than one might expect for a warrior of his size, and with his unlucky companion having served as a strong demonstration he avoids falling into the trap of hubris. Taylim himself is a rather defensive fighter, so he's unable to push the draconic very hard, and his long reach makes it difficult for even Sweet to get in close enough to strike. Raylin briefly considers assisting, but the melee is moving so fast he can't say that he wouldn't hit one of his own guards if he tried firing in their direction. Instead, he settles for bringing down a few of the approaching kobolds for now.

"Have any anti-dragon tricks, dear?"

Gilda does her best to answer while painting fresh runes onto the surface of her shield. "I believe the dungeon is reserving its best for when the Dragonlord shows their awful face, love. And I regret to say I never trained in anything that specific. But anti-mage tricks are something I've spent some time practicing..."

Just as she finishes, the elementalist recovers and begins charging in her direction. If ranged attacks are too risky, it seems that he's decided to go for a hand-to-hand battle instead. Granted, given that his hands are still crackling with electricity, it's obvious the mage hasn't entirely given up on his skillset. It's to his misfortune that Gilda was expecting something along those lines.

A melee battle between a draconic and the noblewoman, even a mage draconic, ought to be no contest. Yet somehow it's as if the man's fists are drawn to her shield, claws uselessly scraping off of its metal rather than digging into her skin. Gilda's swordplay isn't quite enough to do any flashy attacks on the scale of Sweet's, but her blade does draw more than a few trails of blood across the man's limbs.

"What trickery is this now, elf!? Your strength is not even half of mine!"

"And apparently your - hngh - brain is not even half of what ought to fit in that skull!" The silver-haired half-elf grins, not immune to pride herself. "Your fists are charged? Well now so is my shield - and it grows ever more so with every ill-advised attack you land!"

As she says that the mage focuses his attention on the shield's painted runes, and he notices that they're glowing a bit more than normal. No, not glowing - sparking. He attempts to pull his arms back but by now it's too late, the magnetic attraction between his limbs and the shield too strong to easily refuse.

And this time when his hands strike the metal surface, the runes reach their maximum level of charge - and explode.

The effect is clearly more than Gilda was expecting, as the blast scatters the entire group of combatants across several dozen feet. The mage himself loses both of his arms, and his warrior companion gets knocked into a dungeon trap, blasting him into the air. If either are still alive, they won't be much of a threat for the remainder of the battle at least. It doesn't only affect the draconics, sadly.

Gilda is tossed back with as much force as the mage, and given that she's much lighter she flies proportionally further, bouncing across the ground until she nearly crashes into some of the floor's mystical webbing. Much the same happens to Taylim in a different direction, and Raylin's bow is thrown entirely from his hands, lost somewhere in the fog and fighting. Only Sweet has the agility to remain mostly unscathed, and her first priority is obvious.

Dashing over to her lady, the gnoll does a very quick evaluation. "My lady is unconscious! And - I believe both of her arms are shattered!"

Raylin draws his blade, but he knows he's not nearly as good with it as his bow. "I've lost my main weapon - it's time for us to withdraw! Does anyone remember where the nearest shortcut portal is?"

"Yes, twenty feet that way! Taylim - Taylim, assist Lord Raylin, I will take care of our lady!"

The tone of Taylim's response alarms her nearly as much as the explosion does. "I'm afraid you may need to handle both, Miss Sweet."

As she glances back, she sees the issue. Taylim is half-caught in the dungeon's webs, and while he maintains his grip on his sword, it's useless for cutting the magical strands. Her own would prove no better - her magical skills affect blood, not mystical constructs. And the approaching squad of soldiers is nearly upon them. She could perhaps fight the party of kobolds and demons all on her own...but not without leaving Gilda Highbranch undefended.

The two guards share a look, and an understanding passes between them immediately. "Keep them safe, Bloodletter."

"Taylim? Taylim, what are you - Sweet! Stop, we have to - " Raylin's yelling is silenced as Sweet manages to cradle the unconscious Gilda in one large arm while the other grabs on to his armor, dragging him off of his feet. The noble gives one last glance towards his sentinel and companion, and Taylim responds with a smirk before turning back to face the approaching soldiers.

"So...lets see if having one arm tied behind my back makes this a fair fight, shall we?"

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