Agil kept the urge to panic locked down tight; if any of them had the chance to make it out of here, he had to keep his head and run the raid. So far the plan had… worked wasn’t the word he was looking for, not with a field boss with a purple icon soaring up out of the flames. But it’d done what he intended it to do. Hit a teleport crystal with a psiblast, and if you were lucky, it might just toss you somewhere random. If you weren’t… sometimes they just didn’t work at all. So he’d given Argo the go-ahead and had the DDA get ready to set up the floating discs. If her shaped spell worked, they’d get everybody they could down to the medics in more or less one piece. If it didn’t – hell. Fireball had to be a better way to go than eaten alive.
“Bows and spells!” Agil yelled over the buzzing. “Keep her down!” Because flying bosses were the worst, bar none. The queen could hover up there all day flattening them with mind-stunning attacks, while the few people they had with wings or rings of air-walking would never be able to take her down alone. Their only chance was to force her down near the surface, where people could bring enough weapons to bear that it didn’t matter if a few of them got stunned.
Maybe we’ll get lucky, and someone will fry her wings off or web them together–
A wand-wielding wizard screamed as a psiwasp bit through his arm, and the last floating disc shattered. Before the comb could hit it.
Arms like furry constrictors around him and Klein swearing and impact–
Their avatars didn’t technically breathe. Kirito felt as if all the breath had been crushed from him anyway, squeezed out by a too-friendly clutch of clawed hands.
Kirito gave the world a moment to stop spinning so much, and squirmed free of the arms wrapped around him like a cat with an overgrown kitten. Blinked to focus on his HP bar. Not good – but not as bad as Klein’s. “What were you thinking?” Don’t you dare die on me, I couldn’t bear it, not another party member-!
“Hey, weretiger?” Klein coughed, scrambling to find footing on the wobbly paper comb. Easier said than done, even with his uncanny balance; the impact had crumpled some of the hexagonal structure, leaving what was intact tilted at odd angles. “Unless there’s silver spikes under us, I get better.”
As if that were even the point–