Dungeon of Knowledge

Chapter 225: The Temple of Contagion (Part 1)

AliandraAli stood just beyond the outer limits of the pulsing death magic aura, studying the Bone Altar in what she was referring to as the Temple of Contagion in her head. With the hard-won death of Kir’vella, the ceaseless hurricane of bats had stopped, allowing the late afternoon sun to shine through into the clearing. The gentle, nurturing touch of Mato’s aura welling up from his oak leaves and branches had banished all the horrible diseases. She still chose to hover, though; the ground was a literal bloodbath, churned into knee-deep – for her – mud by the feet of ghouls and her own heavier minions, and strewn with the charred and torn corpses of countless bats.

“Ali, this one’s alive,” Malika called out from over by the grim totems and the still-bubbling cauldron that continued belching foul-smelling purple smoke among the hapless prisoners. “He thinks I’m trying to kill him; can you help me?”

Ali darted over to join Malika who was crouched before a struggling, bound troll. He growled and tried to bite her hand. His back was bent painfully over the bone of the grim totem by his bindings, and his many wounds seemed to have been cauterized by fire – presumably to prevent his regeneration from working, just like how they had found Gara.

“He’s in bad shape,” Malika said, worry welling in her eyes.

“How can they be so cruel to one of their own?” Ali asked, but there was no possible answer that might make any sense at all.

Turning to the struggling, feral troll, Ali said, “She wants to help you,” trying to keep her voice as soothing and calm as possible. She couldn’t even imagine the horrors he must have endured at the hands of Kir’vella and her twisted ritual. “Will you let her touch you? She needs touch to heal you.”

The Troll just glared at her, eyes filled with distrust and fear and glazed with pain.

“Tarek, please?” Gara called out, panting a little from her sprint across the sea of bat corpses. At the sight of her, the troll, Tarek, relented, visibly sagging against his bonds, and Malika’s hand reached for his mangled right arm, delivering healing with a bright flash of magic.

He gasped briefly, but then the rapid closing of his wounds must have reassured him that he hadn’t been betrayed as his expression wavered between shock and relief.

“Gara, get him down from there,” Ali said, as Malika rushed to the next prisoner,

Mato’s mind felt unusually calm after the lengthy battle.  He had never really been able to grasp the fundamental patience it took to learn meditation, no matter how many times she had explained it, but he had spent most of the battle as a tree – and that form always had such a profound effect on his mind, an effect which persisted a while afterward.

Before changing forms, the battle had proceeded at a frenetic and chaotic pace, but he recalled it as if it were a memory of a story he had read. A tale of overwhelming blood contagion seeping through his body and progressively becoming increasingly virulent and dangerous as the bats spread the infection among their group. His decision to switch to the Tree Form provided by his Arboreal Sanctuary skill had been born of frustration and desperation – frustration with how slippery Kir’vella was and how difficult she was to pin down and tank properly, and desperation at inexorably falling behind on healing against the stacking diseases that were tearing their melee group apart as they constantly reinfected each other by mere proximity.

He recalled the conversation vividly. Back then he was still deciding if he liked taking the tank role. Something she had mentioned in passing had stuck with him – while dividing the team roles into tanking, damage, and healing was usually a smart and efficient choice, she had cautioned to not get too attached to it. Especially in the face of intelligent foes – or ones with exceptionally high wisdom. Kir’vella had ignored his Taunts with impunity, and not even his damage had been able to distract her from her purpose.

As soon as he had transformed and his vision faded, he had been able to sense the wrongness of the death mana from the altar animating the ghouls. He could feel the pulsing ugliness of the contagions and it had been easy to direct the mana of his Sanctuary aura to dissolve them. From then it had been a simple matter to share his regeneration, redirect damage to himself, and sprout roots and vines to assist with the fight – impeding Kir’vella whenever she appeared, and pinning any of the larger Spirit Nightwing bats Calen grounded, or the regularly summoned ghouls. It was a vastly different battle from when he used his Bear Form, but he was certain his decision to switch had turned the tide for their group.

He looked up from his cookfire and the stew pot simmering there – he would keep it warm while Ali and Malika worked. He smiled happily, enjoying the sight of the exhausted trolls wolfing down the dinner he had made.  he thought, but still, it was satisfying to see how much they were enjoying a simple meal. A few moments later, and some whispered words exchanged, one of the trolls got to her feet and approached him, her manner still somewhat hesitant and uncertain.

“More?” Mato asked, testing out his admittedly weak proficiency with the troll language and gesturing to the pot. She nodded, and he couldn’t help smiling at the way her eyes lit up – he served up a healthy second portion for her.

he chuckled quietly to himself at his own joke. With only a few moments of thought, he spent ten points each on vitality, strength, and endurance. And then, considering his skills, spent another ten each on wisdom and perception. he eyed his very low dexterity and intelligence.

Next, he pulled up his skill growth.

He grinned widely at the four levels of growth he’d just earned for Arboreal Sanctuary. His other skills had also grown nicely, and he was excited to see Rampant Growth coming along, especially given how recently he had chosen it.

Those ghost mushroom chips Gara had taught him to make had been essential to surviving the spirit realm.

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