Description[edit | edit source]
The Tactician adds deep and situational versatility to the Rogue calling. Offensively, the Soul combines bolts of withering energy with a devastating set of elemental torrents that erupt in arcs of fire, ice, and death. The Tactician’s group healing skills are just as enviable, as are its fire-and-forget cores and robust support abilities.
Strengths[edit | edit source]
Tacticians are extremely versatile, unleashing torrents, bolts, and cores to destroy their enemies and mend their allies. Their remarkable healing powers synergize well with those of the Bard.
Weaknesses[edit | edit source]
Tacticians must lean on secondary Souls to maximize single-target damage.
Background[edit | edit source]
The transit lift was enormous. A deep and armored cage suspended from track by magic and metal, it could carry a dozen Empyrean warriors in heavy plate. Or, in this case, a rogue and his golem.
The former lay sprawled in a corner while the golem prodded at the lift’s controls. The rogue pointed overhead. "Up, Cere." Blood ran from his mouth when he spoke. “To the top.”
The golem keyed in the destination. As the lift spun to life, Ceredwyn looked back to the rogue. "You're a mess,” it creaked.
“Ice mages,” said the man, grinning. He wagged his left arm – frozen solid to the elbow – at the golem. “I think they got me.” At Ceredwyn’s insistence, he conjured a healing core that took root on the floor and thrummed with elemental energy. "But you should have seen them boil," he muttered before passing out.
By the time they arrived at the bunker, the rogue was fully healed. He checked the shelter's provisions: food, water, and ley lines to power an assortment of wards and devices. While Ceredwyn briefed him on the battle raging outside, he reflected on the survivors they'd rescued so far: an ambassador’s family, a dark cleric from Necropolis – some two dozen souls in total.
Not enough, he thought. Gathering an assortment of weapons and powering the engines in his armor, the rogue signaled Ceredwyn to open the bunker’s door.
The girl fell back and called for her beleaguered parents to follow. They alone had survived a wave of invaders pouring from a tear in the sky. Now a monstrous blue dragon led a second group of demons their way.
To her horror, sizzling bolts of energy ripped past from the direction of their retreat, striking her parents in turn – yet neither was felled. Instead, the energy bound their wounds and washed away their fatigue. She turned toward the source of the magic to find a leather-clad human racing toward them.
If she was surprised by the rescue, she was even more amazed to recognize the man as they crossed paths – it was the city's madcap inventor, a rare sight outside his underground tunnels. He flashed her a smile in passing, then unleashed energy beams and pulsing turrets that made quick work of the remaining demons.
While the dragon circled overhead, the rogue directed them to the disguised opening of a massive bunker. It took the girl a moment to realize he hadn’t followed them inside. Instead, as a mechanical attendant creaked through introductions and protocols, she glimpsed the man in the distance, spewing gouts of flame and frost, locked in dazzling battle with the dragon.
“He’ll be back one day, Calliope,” her father said, putting a hand on her shoulder as the portal whirled shut. “T’Scain knows what he’s doing.”