Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

Others did likewise, supporting themselves at first with the edges of the tables or the seats of stools scattered around the command area. Engvyr noted that the battlemages were not among those recovering from that blast of… whatever. Most of them were writhing in agony but some were terribly still. Staggering closer he could see blood trickling from the eyes, ears and noses of the unmoving mages.

The fighting had stopped entirely as dazed soldiers, dwarf, goblin and Baasgarta, struggled to their feet. Fumbling out his spyglass he looked over the ranks. Perhaps half were already on their feet. Of the others some were still, some writhing on the ground. Others simply sat with their heads in their hands, trying to cope with the agonizing headache.

“Lord and Lady,” He heard someone say behind him, “What the bloody hell was that?”

Someone else, Colonel Oakes he realized, replied, “At a guess the Dreamer's ritual succeeded.”

They were interrupted by a new sound. Rock cracked explosively and groaned. Turning back to the city Engvyr saw dust puff up from the mountainside and out of the gates to the underground. The earth began to tremble beneath their feet and the soldiers before the walls cried out in fear.

“It's coming,” Engvyr said. Either no one heard or his words simply didn't register.

“IT'S COMING!” he bellowed, and the spike of pain caused by that nearly made him black out.

Rocks began to slide down the hillside into the city, then great chunks of earth broke away, crushing everything in their path. The city was obscured by dust, then stone cracked, groaned and then burst from the mountainside. Boulders the size of houses sailed into the ranks, crushing soldiers of all sides impartially. A vast roar swelled as behind the pall of dust something massive stirred, moved, advanced.

Without warning a tentacle, thick as a thousand year old tree and a hundred paces long or more lashed out of the dust and scythed through the ranks of the Baasgarta. Many were flung through the air but some stuck to it, screaming as it withdrew into the cloud.

Soldiers began to fire. Bullets and crossbow bolts vanished into the cloud. Another tentacle speared out of the dust. Its tip split into dozens of smaller tentacles that pierced a score of soldiers then lifted them up and away. In some small part of his mind Engvyr felt pride for his brethren as their firing gradually went from individual shots to merge into volleys.

WHAM

WHAM

WHAM

Every two seconds like clockwork, the sound imposed order on the chaos of the battlefield. Even the Baasgarta began firing their crossbows in time to that metronome of destruction. Wave after wave of bullets and crossbow bolts vanished into the cloud.

As the dust began to settle a nightmare form was revealed. Though he hadn’t seen it in decades, it was familiar to him. He had last seen a ghost of this shape made from swirling wind and sand. The reality of the being, in the flesh, was a thousand times more horrible.

It was all colors and no color, seeming to glow faintly from within, but shed no illumination in the pre-dawn gloom. It was a hundred feet tall or even more, and it trampled the remains of the Baasgarta city beneath mismatched feet of all shapes and sizes.

A tentacle formed and again swept through the ranks of soldiers, scattering scores and scooping up dozens more. As the tentacle retreated the body split into a great maw lined with teeth to receive it. The tentacle, covered in writhing, screaming men was inserted into the mouth and bitten off, the stump withdrawing into the body as it slammed shut with an audible crash. Other tentacles formed and swept or speared into the ranks, lifting more soldiers to the maws that formed to receive them.

Each volley sent a rain of lead, bolts and quarrels rippling across the creature’s surface to no discernible effect. As Engvyr watched a ball formed from the surface of the massive body, then compressed into a tube and burst, sending a spray of spears far and wide over the formation. One of these weapons transfixed a nearby soldier. As he fell the end of the spear protruding from his chest collapsed into a plate. The portion standing out of his back writhed like a snake and spouted hundreds of legs and began to drag him back towards the creature. There was a ripple of movement across the battlefield as the same happened to other soldiers, some still screaming. With a cry of disgust Engvyr sprang forward, slashing through the 'spear' with his bayonet. It squirmed on the ground for a second before dissolving into foul-smelling smoke that made the dwarf choke and cough.

He heard shouted commands passing through the ranks before him. Someone down there was thinking; as the next sphere formed, thousands of guns focused on it and it burst almost instantly, some form of liquid rolling down the things flank. The soldiers cheered as the creature shuddered. The flesh around the wound did not immediately heal.