Meanwhile, Abnaki's two acolytes set to placing the holy spew into a crude waterskin, to keep the essence of their god close by.
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That's disgusting...
As the mycos are completing their... task... Gabriel speaks up. One can tell he is making an effort to not notice what the fungus people are doing.
"Our job here is finished. We shouldn't linger down here any longer than necessary. We can discuss what has happened on the upper floors, yes?"
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Twisting little roots around Gabriel and hugging him tightly though the story. Little streams of red ichor escape their shared mind and leak out of the mycos's blue eyes. Only getting a sad growl out of their phantom Qizz leans their head against Gabes shoulder.
When the other mycos crawl their way up and start debasing themselves, even though it's to Abnaki, their skin ripples and rolls in confusion and disgust. Turning their face inward, burying their face from their problems. A clear display of their age.
"Agreed. This place is dangerous." Samen steals a glance at Abnaki. "And so are we."
As all of you recover from the abrupt trip and your eyes (human, fey, or myco, respectively) clear, you see there are multiple drakes. Tall, short, skinny, fat, bearded with scales, threadbare hides, and dozens of different shades of green. The only commonality is their species, and the white branch-patterns that entwine their bodies in a myriad of different ways.
The third floor, previously full of the dense information of dotted sticks and stones, is now entirely comprised of glowing orbs of glass. They rest on pedestals of varying heights. The orbs each seem to hold a world of secrets within their depths.
Librarian continues, "Yes, everything is just as it was. We cannot believe your success!"
"Moon's influence has not been purged, but it has taken up its proper place. Balance has been restored, as well as the draconian species, it seems. This day has been unexpected in a number of ways. Is there any other way we may be of assistance, Librarian? We would wish to return with news of our success to the Tribe of Peace as soon as possible."
"Is this proper balance?" Abnaki wonders. "Well if they say so, it must be true. Yes, are we to do any other sort of helping while here? Do you need some more assistants with opposable thumbs? I suspect that some of the Mycos would be happy to assist you."
Your mycos eagerly shift many, many thumbs onto their hands.
The various draconian librarians pester you with questions - what did you do on the fourth floor? What was the library like before you went in?
From their various questions and conversations, it is clear most of them do not remember the details of the attack, or their own deaths, or what the Branch Library was like before you changed things.
Many of the librarians are consulting the glowing orbs in some arcane fashion; they spread their three-taloned claws before an orb, as if warming their hands by a fire, a distant look in their reptilian eyes.
To assist them, the mycos poke them with many thumbs. The drakes are too deep in concentration to react.
Librarian (who you notice is a good foot taller than the rest of the drakes) raises a scaled brow at the antics of the mycos. "You have done more than we could have hoped. I do not believe we need further, ah, 'assistance' currently. You will always be welcome here." It goes down on one knee before you with respect.
Gabriel nods to the librarian at the praise. He mutters to himself, "Let's just hope we didn't change more than necessary."
One of the drakes--very short compared to the others and a dark shade of jade--clacks over to Gabriel. "You are human, yes? Would you add your 'human' experiences to one of our spheres? It is like reading a book...ah, but the book reads you. No harm to reader or the book, yes?"
Slightly disappointed at not being able to post acolytes in such a valuable location, and slightly worried that he was in fact disappointed, Abnaki nods. "The world needs us I'm afraid. But I suspect that Samen and I at the very least, will make an effort to return here, and practice some most potent magics." He winks at Samen.
"Humanity is fairly new to me. I'm not sure how good the story would be. I will submit for this orb anyway."
The short drake eagerly leads you to an orb, the sheen of which is the same pink-peach-brown of your odd human skin. Unsure what to do, you copy the stance of the drakes you see around you, and look deep into the orb.
--like watching a stage play of your own life--
--and someone gently peeling back your skin for a peek--
--and probing your brain with detached interest, making sure to harm nothing--
-and what feels like half a candle of intense questioning later, you see that Qizlvutz is still scampering toward you, eager to see the process in action.
"(Will) it ouch? When it (start)? As always, it takes you a moment to interpret their shift-verbs, but Qizz is asking when the orb will start reading you.
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"If you want to repay us," Abnaki says to a librarian, "Try and look up how to pull a soul out of dreams for my friend over there. I'm sure we'll be back to pick it up some time."
Opræterius speaks into Samen's mind. Cast your Silence upon me, Champion, so that my words might have no effect upon you as we leave this place. I shall not shame myself by lusting after those lenses of great focus a second time.
A pause. Please.
Quietly skulking until now, the frowning golem speaks up. "I will stay and serve this place. You speak of balance, and a creature built by Moon dedicating their life to preserving that which the Smiler sought to destroy strikes me as fair and good symmetry indeed."
He stares between all of you, rather than making eye contact. You believe this is his version of 'goodbye'.
"Goodbye Serv. May you enjoy your new purpose more than your old one." Abnaki goes in to give him a hug. "After all, we're basically cousins at this point! See you around."
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Fittingly, Samen casts silence without saying a word.
He gestures to his allies to grab hold of his hands, and wills them back to the Tribe.
"Warn a fellow before doing that next time! My stomach was already tenderized by the sudden movement upwards. Ugh, my aching head..."
Qizz does flips and giggles blue gas. "Again! Again!"
As all of you traipse upon Samen's mental waves (your brains as skipping stones across a still pond, your bodies lagging behind), you suddenly find yourself back at the Tribe of Peace.
-and Peace is aflame. Balance indeed, the new abundance of drakes has somehow led to hungry salamander hordes slavering for the lumber of Forest. Green metalcraft, yellow slavecraft, and...silver-eyed salamanders? A type you have never seen before...
Samen skips along the mental landscape, euphoric at the ease of travel.
Upon materializing, eyes still closed, he takes a deep breath and is choked by the smoke.
"Oh. Oh dear. Oops."
"Ah feck."
"Did our actions at the library cause this? Far reaching consequences aside, we must help our friends and allies."
Abnaki springs quickly into action. As a move action, he begins to chant a call to Oread arms as a fey performance. Then for his standard, he casts Enhance form/Boosted Accelerate on Gabriel as a 4th level slot.
The trees themselves seem to echo with Abnaki's words, as the earth itself turns against the Salamanders, upsetting their footing, and laying them low. "Go forth Gabriel, go forth and show our enemies why they should fear us."
Samen, still taken aback by the melee, collects himself. I will be a symbol too, Abnaki.
He casts Greater Angelic Aspect on himself and leaps into the air with a shout, wings of light unfurling over the defending oreads.
Drink the light of the Sun, friends!
**
The stone walls are defended by a stout line of oreads. Warhammers knock down salamanders that attempt to claw their way upward; expertly thrown stones and boulders crush the teeming hordes below.
And yet for all the snake corpses that already litter the battlefield, the yellow-eyed slavercrafters have more waves of mindless one-heads to throw at the walls. The beautiful forest outside the city have been chewed, burnt, and despoiled.
Samen surveys the battlefield quickly. He's accustomed to a bit more warning for a conflict of this scale, but he cobbles together two possible plans
He bellows out in his newly powerful voice, "Abnaki, which is more heroic, to hold the wall, or to rout the slavers in the back?"
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"I'll leave you two to devise grand strategy, I'll go find something to cripple... Call out targets if you see them before I do!" Gabriel uses the magic given by their fey overlord and is up on the wall before they can blink.
There is a piercing sound of a single hammer strike on a fresh melt from a forge as Gabe concentrates his will into a shimmering barrier.
"Why not... both?" Abnaki intones. "Slavers shall suffer. Still, I will follow where you go."
The next wave of one-heads attempt to scale the walls:
On the left flank, a well-timed oil slick causes a dozen snakes to fall from the walls and crush their companions. A weak cheer comes up from the oreads.
The right flank receives reinforcements; the snakes are so numerous they simply begin climbing upon one another, like ants desperate to avoid water. The right flank will be in severe trouble next round if the snakes roll well.
The green-eyed metalcrafters hurl a barrage of wickedly sharp metal javelins, trying to hit the healers and shamans beyond the walls. You hear a stomp that thunders in the air, and a shield of stone raises into the air. It crumbles under the assault of the javelins, but the healers remain safe.
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"This was a foolish and impudent action. Spend some time to reflect on your mistake." Abnaki moves and then casts through his persistent metamagic rod Persistent Torture Boosted Barrier.
Abnaki looks pleased with himself.
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Gabe sees the mountain of snakes surging up the wall and moves to be ready intercept. Dancing around the oreads, he becomes as the wind and sprints to where he thinks the foes will complete their climb.
Samen floats gracefully up next to Abnaki, and acknowledges his actions. "Fair enough. Nicely done. We'll secure the wall first then deal with the persistent threat. I will remove the light from the stragglers over there."
Samen shouts over the wall,
Gabriel meets the attacking serpents with feet and fists, giving each a lesson in approaching unprepared.
Abnaki speaks the very distillation of sickness and gut distress into existence, a purplish wavering in the air. Dozens of snakes fall to the ground, writhing and vomiting onto the ground. They struggle to move forward as the field churns to mud and bile.
The remaining units, spurred by fear, quickly scale the wall. At the behest of their distant slavers, they throw their heavy, spiked bodies directly upon the oread units within, sacrificing themselves to damage the enemy.
(map updated, 2 triangles deleted, oreads incremented down)
What could have easily been a rout on the right flank becomes a minor victory - Gabriel sprints in blur across the entire length of the wall, and follows through with a barrage of punches and kicks nearly too fast to see. He knocks several off the wall on his own, and the oreads around him gain new purpose as this salvation appears from seemingly nowhere. The assault is utterly repulsed.
And though few of the snakes die as they fall back off the walls from blows and spears, they all become entrapped by the awful tentacles that Samen has summoned forth from his darkest nightmares. The only unit of snakes that manage to writhe free immediately start fleeing to the east.
(map updated, also deleted 1 snake unit to show the minor damages that have been inflicted)
Abnaki, two of the slavecrafters have set their sights on you, and take their attention away from their minions to try and dominate your will:
**
Meanwhile, all two of the metalcrafters hurl a storm of razor javelins at you:
The snakes finish their turn with:
--The final unit of metalcrafters, larger in size (and presumably age) than the other two, tries something desperate: striking at the very heart of units behind the walls, aiming for the STOMP they heard earlier.
You hear screams and shouts of dismay as a final arc of spears, gleaming this time with rock-dissolving poisons flies over the walls. The luck of Fret himself must smile on the attack, for Gabriel sees a score or more of healers all fall to the ground, their granite skins sloughing off like tenderized meat.
Chieftain Wamblee vanishes from view amidst the chaos; it is unclear how badly he is injured.
The oreads still rally to the walls, enraged by the tactics of the snakes.