Soulforged Dungeoneer

If there was anyone who deserved to be confused when my opponent started dancing, it was me. I suppose, realistically, there were two people who deserved it, though--both me and him, since he wasn't doing it on purpose. That part became clear as he began to panic, as he dropped his sword and began a full-body hip-swaying dance that I, not being particularly fond of dancing, didn't recognize, and in particular as he began to loudly shout questions.

"What... what is happening?" was the first of those questions, but not the last.

It took me only a few moments to figure it out, because I had added the enhancement aura to my Halo on purpose--but I had never really believed I would see the day when it triggered. The Devil's Garbage-Ass Trash Sword had called the enhancement the "Aura of Suffering," and among its many possible debuffs were toothaches, impotence, insanity, and a [ Spontaneous Musical Number ], a debuff known to the rest of the world as the "Dancing Plague".

I dropped my sword, began clapping my hands, and giggled madly, which evolved into a mad cackle after only a second.

"What did you DO?" the man screamed at me, and I didn't care to respond, instead turning again and looking around for Zoya, who of course I couldn't see.

"Zoya! Merry! Don't get near him!" I shouted at the sky, mostly aware of the fact that Zoya probably wasn't actually flying, and moved back a little bit myself. "Dancing plague!"

I saw a bunch of the man's supporters in the sky suddenly take the flying equivalent of a step back, and having thought things through, I removed my two Soulforged items and moved the Aura of Suffering to my defensive cape before re-equipping it--just in case.

What followed was at once disappointing and relatively predictable.

You see, a series of explosions in the night tends to be the kind of thing that attracts the attention of, you know, cops and such. And from the moment it was clear that Dungeoneers were responsible, of course other Dungeoneers would respond. So a bunch of people, fighters all, started to appear out of the sleepy suburban Texas landscape. Many of them flew, some walked, others drove, but all in all, it became clear that the situation had drawn a large crowd relatively quickly. Not... not quickly enough that I would have survived, if I wasn't kind of ridiculously strong, but certainly quickly enough that these dinguses would have had a hard time getting away.

The flame wall vanished, and a lot of eyes in the night started to eye the two of us, probably wondering who was in the right and who was in the wrong. And that, given my history, could easily have been a complicated question to answer, especially with me caught in the middle of a mad scientist laugh. But with my enemy having caught the dancing plague while in the middle of a soliloquy, he made the mistake of trying to finish what he was saying without checking who was listening.

"I won't be the last!" he snarled at me, defiantly. "No matter what you do to me, we will keep throwing assassins at you until you are dead! And we will continue to prepare for the coming war, and you will--"

Someone on his side, I think, put a very powerful bullet into his head to shut him up, and that worked exactly the way it was supposed to--save only the fact that since I had landed a heavy blow on the guy, it wasn't a solo kill, and he dropped a corpse item to the ground instead of it going back to whoever had shot him for easy clean-up. But... I didn't see or hear where it came from, which terrified me since it was doubtless also strong enough to kill me, though I had to wonder why exactly I was target number two instead of target number one.

As it turned out, I wasn't target two, either. One of the responding Dungeoneers was hit, probably the highest level on scene, and then things descended into chaos. I looked around, trying to figure out who exactly was shooting, and noticed with a sudden feeling of intense squick that one of the enemy figures hanging in the air was swaying their hips with a confused look on their face.

The musical number continued.

Lacking a better option, I threw myself under the Cloaks' stealth and tried to identify how people were being killed, but once everyone--responders and mob folk alike--started to scatter, it got difficult to even notice when or if people were being sniped. I took cover behind a large-ish van parked by the side of the road, well aware that might not be enough, and tried to figure out where my priorities should even lay right now; a sniper capable of one-shotting that guy had to also be high level in addition to using a powerful weapon.

Fortunately, after only a moment, a familiar figure found me--a familiar, very small figure.

"Jerry!" Merry appeared above my head and dipped immediately back into me. The dancing thing! I went and looked into the head of a guy who caught it to look at it. We can control it if we have musical skills!

"Control it?" I hissed, aware of the fact that Merry might also technically be infected. "Like, control who it spreads to?"

As far as I can tell it's a big cosmic joke, but as long as you play along with the joke, things go your way. You can't use it to kill people, but you can control movements, staging directions... there's a whole thing behind it, and it's completely insane.

"Spontaneous musical number..." I grinned to myself. "It can't be that easy, can it?"

Easy my ass, retorted Merry. You know you won't be immune to bullets if you go out there and try to control people with it, right?

"No," I replied to the fairy, "but I'm not a musician anyway. We need Louise and Cassandra. Do you think you can find them?"

Merry paused a long moment. You gonna be okay without me?

I just snorted. "I adore you, Merry," I said to my little partner, and I felt her react to the words inside my head, "but yes, I can survive this without you, at least as well as I can with you here."

With some hesitation, Merry returned back to the real world, gave me a strange look, then kissed my forehead and dashed off into the night. I wasn't really sure how she would figure out how to get to Louise, but I had to trust her.

In the meantime, the fight continued.

"Alright you assholes, stand DOWN!" someone shouted, clearly trying to use either their level or their position within the USDA as leverage to negotiate. I turned to look, and it was a rather impressive looking fellow in the kind of heavy armor you'd normally associate with a knight or paladin, except mismatched because it was Dungeon gear. His level was somewhere over 150, which was impressive but for the fact that it the enemy had higher levels--had been willing to sacrifice someone of a higher level in order to shut him up, or possibly stop the plague, not that that had worked.

I stopped and looked around for the flying guy who had been dancing. I didn't spot him, but I did spot some other people making suspicious motions while trying to remain still. So, that problem hadn't passed, which was good if we wanted to use it to our advantage--but bad if the enemy got the upper hand.

Anyway, while I was distracted, someone else stepped forward, and by the time I turned back to him, I got a really cold feeling that told me this guy was every kind of bad news. He was walking daintily on thin air, and was dressed in all black robes, the kind that were utterly impractical for anyone who wasn't a back-line spellcaster. He had a creepy air to him; though it was hard to tell in the dark, he certainly looked pale as death from here, and his level was 513, more than enough for the guy in armor to realize just how much he'd overplayed his hand.

"I'll make this offer only once," he said, and I was relieved to find that his voice was the kind of stuffy, nasal, hoarse nonsense that you would expect from a stereotypical basement-dwelling necromancer, because if he sounded actually intimidating it would have been hard to think straight. Of course, that combined with his thick East European accent also made it a little difficult to understand him. "Turn over the idiot who stole our property, and we'll let you flee. Refuse, and we'll kill everyone in this complacent little rats nest of a town."

The reminder that I technically owned assassins at the moment had me look back at my inventory, but from the vague sense I got when I focused on each of them, only one of them might possibly have been close enough to interfere. I concentrated on that one and tried to pull them to me, but I wasn't sure if anything happened.

Meanwhile, the nighttime knight was trying to put on a brave face.

"We won't just let you do whatever you like," he said, brandishing a tower shield that was definitely an inch thick plate of steel. "I don't know what your beef is, or with who, but you won't hold us hostage."

The man in black robes held up a hand, and genuine imitation purple lightning shot from his fingertips. Where it struck the tower shield, gouts of intense purple flames shot forth, and it only took a second before the lightning tore entirely through it and scorched the man behind it. His screams were loud, but didn't last very long.

Now, I'd faced some odds in my life, including just fucking recently, but this was a fight I was willing to concede instantly. The only saving grace was that he evidently didn't know who or where I was, and that was great and all, but it's not like I was safely away from the fight; I was just kind of stuck awkwardly behind a car. And to say nothing of this guy, there was still a sniper, and I had no idea where they were. Most likely, that sniper could pierce stealth, and dodging out of my hiding place might just draw attention.

Speaking of drawing attention, I heard a yell in the distance, which I was able to localize to the roof of a strip mall nearby. When I focused on it, I saw a figure being thrown off the roof by a smaller figure.

"YOU!" cried the woman who'd been thrown down.

The smaller figure said something in reply that was too quiet for me to hear at this distance.

"CURSE YOU, VLADIMIR!" the woman screamed at him in return, raising a very shiny, expensive looking rifle in his direction and emptying a clip at him, full-auto.

And Vlad, as he stepped off the roof, suddenly began to transform.

It was subtle, from this distance, though I doubt it would have been if I were closer. Metal began to spool out from the little Russian man's limbs, metal that extended and grew until Vlad was at the center of a large black suit of armor, one easily four times his size. The mech, or golem, or whatever, raised a hand, and a black sword with one saw-tooth edge on it appeared. Several bullets spat off the black armor as he swung the sword, and although the screaming didn't cut off after the first strike, it wasn't really all that long of a fight overall.

It turned out the figure in black was also focusing on him, because purple lightning crossed the distance not long after.

"You should not have come, Vladimir," he said, and I frowned, feeling a strange pulsing headache, one that made my arms start to tremble. "You should have been thankful for all we did for you. You should have shown respect."

Vlad's voice was amplified when he replied. "I am very thankful, Uncle Lenny," he said, sounding annoyed but not yet pissed off. "Thankful to you, and to my brother, and to my ex-wife," and here he took his sword and jabbed it towards where he had been fighting the woman a moment before. "I am glad to know that you cannot be trusted. Makes things much easier. Would be very confused right now if I thought you were on my side."

"We are family, Vladimir," said the evil sorcerer named Lenny.

"I saw my brother's files, Uncle Lenny. I know how you have treated your family." The black suit of armor started to march forwards. "And today I will do the same to you."

Some part of me felt like I was watching a soap opera, but another part of me started to realize that the headache had become overpowering. And suddenly, breaking through the distraction, I realized that I must have been snuck up on by an enemy sorcerer, that I must be under some kind of mind control...

I stood up, my head killing me, and spun around in place. I swayed to the right, swayed to the left. My right leg came forward, and my arms came up, shoulders shimmying. All I could do was let out a moan as a I realized that I, too, had caught the Dancing Plague.

It clarified a few things for me, though. The headache eased as I let my body go through the motions, and intensified if I resisted. But I could move--I could willingly choose how I danced, and where. Like the NPCs at an End Town, I could in theory continue living my life while dancing, as long as I could combine the two activities myself.

I was only briefly distracted when, again, purple lightning flashed in the distance, but Vlad seemed to hold his own, despite still being a much lower level than Evil Lenny. But my attention was drawn more immediately to basically everyone else, because most of the area was now starting to struggle with the very same affliction I had just come down with. As far as I could tell, the enemy had gotten more reinforcements, because everyone seemed to be separating into two basic camps, trying generally to guard each others' backs. Zoya, I noted, was apart from the rest, her body gyrating randomly, and I suspected that the joyless assassin wasn't able to just roll with the status condition. For her, it was probably confusing and torturous, and I felt a little bit bad about that.

That said, the same was true for more of the enemy than for our allies, and after a moment of indecision, I used the Cloak to fling myself in the general direction of the people I assumed were good guys, only managing to do it when I was able to synchronize the ability with a beat that I could sense but not hear, a beat that my body was already trying to match. Even though the Cloak was a mental skill, I somehow couldn't figure out a way to use it properly without matching it to the beat, which suggested the Spontaneous Dance Number was a much more powerful affliction than I'd realized.

I landed in the middle of the group, pirouetted three times, took a step back and flung my arms up in celebration. I wasn't really feeling it--I mean, people were dying here--but I didn't have a whole lot of choice. "Try to match the beat," I said to the others, though I suspected I wasn't the first to say it. "It makes it easier to control yourself."

I don't think they listened to me, one way or another.

I guess at least one person among the enemy recognized me, because when I appeared, the enemy started to rally, as much as they could with the Dancing Plague affecting us all. As they did, they started to throw very poorly aimed ranged techniques, as well as stumbling ineffectually towards us, but we were also in no position to properly defend ourselves. It was the most confused fight I'd ever been in, and I realized that if Vlad hadn't taken out the sniper, I would be effectively defenseless.

And then, barely a moment, I heard the voice of an angel, with a stirring accompaniment--and I knew it was my angel, and her--my, our--pet phoenix DJ.

Do you feel like you're second-hand?

Do you feel you're afraid to stand alone?

I felt something inside me instantly shift, the beats inside of me locking to the beat of the song, and some kind of secondary restriction locking in place--one that kept me from doing anything too flashy, while the song was in a slow section.

"This is it," I said, aware that I was grinning again--but that grin faded as the enemy suddenly seemed to surge with determination. My mind raced to catch up, but it was all I could do to throw the Cloak in the way of several ranged attacks, barely knocking them away in time to keep the group safe. It was tough, though, because the Cloak had to remain attached to me, and there were people stumbling into the threads of force constantly.

No, if I was going to fight, I needed to get away from them.

Cut away every safety net

Live your life so you won't regret the road

I wondered, as I used the cape to throw myself generally towards the oncoming enemies, if my decision matching the lyrics was part of the status effect, or just coincidence, but I had to trust Louise and just go with the flow. So I flexed the cape, knocking back a large blast of ice magic, and landed in a strange pose, my arms out in a way that was very dramatic but also inconvenient. The enemy surged, again, an unnatural surety to their motions--but I realized that much like when I used the cape to implant suggestions in the Slenderman, this overconfidence made them predictable but not more powerful. It was like the fight suddenly had a script, and the author was on my side.

The music surged, and it felt large, suddenly. It felt larger than the fight, in a way, drowning out all the other noise, and I became aware that we all were being drawn into it, not just me.

Feels like you're standing there so small

Just a space between the stars

Don't be afraid to risk it all

Because we are, we are...

The two factions, and me separate from them both, all stared at each other, our willpowers warring in a strange internal space where there was only music. Magic continued to flicker back and forth--spells cast at me, by my allies at the enemy, and my Cloak flashing around defensively... which at the moment, seemed like it was only just a small thing, a tiny little defensive tool that could do nothing against an entire battlefield full of enemies.

Of course, I knew better, and I also knew what lyrics were coming.

When I went to throw power into the Vampiric Cloak, I found that there was power waiting for me, hanging in the air, and I touched it lightly, finding that it was Louise. I reached out to it, gently, as though taking her hand without permission, and though she flinched for a moment, and the music paused, somehow, despite it taking seemingly too long, she recognized that it was me, and what it was I was trying to do.

And a bottomless well of power opened up into the Cloak, spreading its influence across the whole battlefield, and with a single ripple of the Cloak, the enemy fighters were throw backwards as though from an explosion.

We are giants.

Louise repeated the refrain, and I manifested weapons in midair with no regard to mana expense, and telekinetically slammed them down into the mob men who'd been hunting me, matching the blows to the chords in the song without even really trying to.

It was strange, some part of me realized. I had been trying hard for a long time not to become a killer, but here, I wasn't just killing--with the song guiding me, I was ruthless, thoroughly enjoying every moment that I landed a critical blow against a joint, a neck, a head. Matching the slaughter to the rhythm wasn't just second nature--in that moment, killing was right, necessary, and a part of my being. Although it hurt my head to think about it, some part of me questioned that, but even that part of me had to be drowned out as I killed the last of the lower-level mooks and was forced by the song to turn towards the man in the black robes, who had made steady progress towards destroying Vlad's oversized armor, if not without injury himself.

I couldn't even begin to stop myself when an instinct had me leap into the air, twirling as I did, and scream at the man, drawing his attention.

Raise your flag, let your voice be heard

Put your heart into every word you say

"You want me, asshole, you got me," I snarled at him, and flexed my entire class, producing a oversized version of the Executioner's Blade that Vlad's giant mech might have been able to wield, if he double-handed it. The blade, too, twirled in midair as though of its own accord. "It's about time I set a new record for highest level asshole I've killed, and you look like you'll do fucking fine."

The black robed man looked genuinely confused, and raised his hand to Palapatine some lightning at me, and I forced the entire Cloak in between him and me, and... well, actually, yeah, even with the extra mana from the dancing plague buffing me, I barely managed to stop the attack of a mage like seven times my level; it would have been far more surprising if it had been effortless. I felt the lightning scorch not only the mana out of my veins, but also seeming to peel away part of the music that was dominating my will.

All your failure's a cornerstone

Build a house with the things you've thrown away

Evil Lenny raised both hands and double-fisted his lightning at me, and I barely managed to wrap a cocoon around me, my mana refilling unnaturally fast, but also completely unable to compete with a guy hundreds of levels above me.

Feels like you're standing there so small...

At this point, my thoughts managed to poke their way back through the insanity that the Spontaneous Musical Number had put me under, and I realized that there was no fucking guarantee that I'd survive this, especially because the dude I had just threatened really was super powerful and also not under the same compulsion that the enemies I'd just... just murdered, I realized again, that they had been affected by. If he had a one-shot kill ability, something greater than this, then even if the song was with me, it was frankly fucking ridiculous to even try. As it was, the purple lightning scorched away every last snatch of the music from me, and that shattered the connection to my mana pool, leaving me with a larger than normal pool that was dwindling very, very fast.

And then the lightning stopped.

I looked up to see that the entire group of people who had been on my side and also a part of the musical number were standing in a line, all doing something emblematic of their class. And I realized the lightning hadn't stopped--it had, for just a moment, been blocked.

We are, we are,

We are giants.

Some part of me that was still inside that... that somehow incredibly, mythically symbolic musical fight picked up right where it had left off, and I leaped into the air, now mostly aware of what I was doing but still at least half compelled. And above me, the Executioner's Sword that should probably have disappeared by now lifted, and I raised both hands above my head and then slammed them forwards, and the blade fell.

Evil Lenny threw lightning at it, but the blade, as though it were as massive as it appeared to be, simply shed molten drops of psychic energy while the rest of the weight continued down. Since I was half-conscious of things now, I also tried to activate my class feature to wrap the blade in the Cloak, even though the music resisted--I guess it wanted the fight to last a little longer. As a last ditch effort, Lenny threw up a barrier of black mist, which seemed as hard as steel when the blade hit it, but although it held until the blade pinned him to the ground, it quickly shot through with cracks as it was trapped in between a bunch of rocks and a hard case--but held, as the pale man strained.

We are, we are

We are giants

"Hey, Lenny," Vlad said, his voice echoing from his giant metal head, even though I was pretty sure he was actually somewhere in the torso, as he appeared a giant, wicked-looking spear from his inventory. "I'll be sending my brother to join you, so keep hell warm for him, would you?"

And Vlad, wrapped in a steel set of armor that must have weighed more than a small house, leaped at least fifty feet into the air, and with all that weight and momentum placed that spearhead firmly between his uncle's eyes.

If the enemy had anyone else available to back them up, for some reason they didn't show after that, and so the battle was definitely won.