Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius took in a deep breath, examining the set of runes in front of him. Once he began reestablishing the formation, it was likely that the Imprisoned Giant would sense the danger and attack.

"You ready, Optio?" Zenon asked. The Centurion's voice shook. His hands trembled, but not from the cold. Besides the ghosts and Lake Eels, there was an Adamantine-Rank creature within 100 yalms that was capable of ending him in a single strike.

It was likely the closest to death that Zenon had ever been.

"How do you feel, Brother-Zenon?" Tycon asked, granting him a reassuring smile.

"I... I dunno, man. So many things could go wrong," Zenon grimaced.

"Tss," Tycon scoffed. "You'll remember this feeling for the rest of your life-- as long or as short as it'll be."

"What do you mean?" Zenon pursed his lips and looked away, "Being scared shite-less?"

"Figuratively staring into the face of death and still having the courage to act," Tycon grinned. "Now, take a deep breath. Keep focused on your surroundings. Move with me. We begin... now."

...

Undead.

A mockery of precious life. Felinus was no stranger to the cursed beings. The red leaves fell in the autumn months. All things were destined to die, their rot and decay giving birth to new life to the forest.

Life and death. Two opposing concepts. Like two sides of a silver coin, there was that which was neither. The entropy of the world and its laws ensured that exceptions would always exist. And when the laws of the world were thus challenged, there would be heroes to return the balance to as it was.

Dark magics were afoot, the result of humans meddling with powers best left alone.

Humans. Confusing creatures. Always changing. Always interesting. It was for this reason that Felinus chose to associate with them. As many Shadowwalkers and Necromancers they produced, the humans proved noble and selfless Champions, cunning and relentless Slayers... and the occasional amateur Ranger.

They were a clumsy people. But in their honesty, their unpredictability, their noisiness-- in their chaos... there was an admirable purity.

Felinus would serve his part.

A human sat upon a throne of ice, swollen by magic crafted centuries ago. Not a giant, but no longer entirely human. Not living, not dead. Not sealed, not free. Forbidden magics flowed through its form. Through the Tactician's plan, the same spellcraft would prove its undoing.

Sightless eyes looked down upon Bannok, son of Tyrion.

He would not die on this day.

The giant raised an arm. Desiccated. Skin stretched taut. Dark magic swirling about it, drawing from the void, the dark unknown, the entropy between this world and all worlds.

Three arrows. Felinus fired three arrows that bounced harmlessly off of the creature's ⌈Mana Ward⌋, before they could sink into its outstretched arm.

The giant pulled a wicked cudgel from the beyond, the dark metal steaming and sizzling as if it was freshly forged.

Three arrows. Seven. Twenty-two. Each arrow shot would weaken the creature's energy until they could finally deliver the finishing blow.

Live, Bannok. You must live.

"Come at me, you big Flame-taken bastard!!" Bannok banged his shield with his battleaxe.

The giant swung down its weapon, as fast as Felinus could see, but faster than he could shout to warn his human ally.

A deafening clang echoed through the frozen lake, the force of the strike more than capable of crushing Felinus to a lumpy paste. The sapling, Ariadne had enchanted Bannok's shield with a divine ⌈Barrier⌋. Bannok had braced himself against the attack, dropping down to a knee, but showing no signs of injury.

How powerful.

"You okay, hon?" The young elf shouted to her mate.

"Yeah! I'm good, Ari!" Bannok slammed his shield to the side, forcing the giant's mace away. With a quick strike, the human's enchanted battleaxe bit into the giant's wrist, "Is that all you got, big guy??"

How arrogant.

But that's what made them interesting.

"Archers!!" Felinus yelled, "Let your arrows sing!!"

...

Tycon furrowed his brows as he restored the outline of the broken seal. Tanamar's concerns were not unfounded. Though he was fully confident he could repair the seal, he had made the glaring error of overestimating his assistance. While the formation was comprised of Third-Circle parts, the result was Fourth-Circle. With the increased complexity, perfectly repairing the seal with only Second-Circle casters would take time.

Judging by the chaos of the battle, time was not something he was afforded.

The heads of three ghostly, eel-like creatures emerged from the lake's surface, phasing through the ice as if it was still water. Even with only a third of its body exposed, each stood slightly taller than Tycon's human allies.

Fortunately for them, the creatures had flesh. Flesh would bleed. The bloodied could be killed.

An Iron-Rank Warrior smashed her shield against the teeth of one, forcing it back. A Thief pierced that eel's side, low on its body, while a Legionnaire pierced a vicious pilum into the side opposite.

...With the shield-wielding girl distracted, a second eel bit its dagger-long teeth into the armored woman's sword arm.

Centurion Zenon stood only slightly shorter than the creature's revealed height. He pierced his tri-bladed lightning claws into the side of its head, charging his lightning mana into its skull. The creature's ghastly wails drowned out that of the dying Warrior.

From the surrounding forest, walking skeletons and translucent ghosts began to trudge onto the ice, raising ancient Tyrion shields to block the hail of arrows.

A horn sounded throughout the lake valley, accompanied by shouting.

​ "Lake Eels!!"

"Focus 'em down!!"

"Cease fire on the ghooosts!!"

Tycon began to paint over the runes with the mana-ink, sacrificing his accuracy for speed.

"Tactician!" Photios looked greatly perturbed, "What the hells are you doing?!"

⟬ Photios, Iron-Rank Human Silver Pyromancer. Guild Brazen Guard. ⟭

"The seals will take too long to restore," Tycon hastily explained. "I'm modifying the formation to remove the limiters."

"You crazy son of a b*tch, I'm in," Photios nodded. "Brothers and sisters!! Focus your mana on my channeling!!"

Thankfully, the Pyromancer saw the value in the sudden change of plan. Photios' group of mages began to channel their mana to re-activate the formation. Tycon's assistance was no longer necessary to guide them.

"Go!" Photios ordered, "We'll meet you again at the fourth seal."

Tycon nodded, turned, and began to sprint away, hearing the steps of his Centurion following close behind.

"Stay alive, Brother-Photios!" Zenon shouted.

"Whaddya think I'm tryin' to do?!" Photios yelled back.