Thankfully, Lydia was faster. As the red, forked tongue of the dumpster mimic darted toward her, unfurling like a towel coming in for a snap, Lydia’s rod came around in an arc so fast that even with his keen perception, Harmon couldn’t see it. Instead, he saw the crackle of dark violet lightning that exploded forth as the rod made contact, practically spearing the tongue to the ground despite the fact that the end of the construct was blunt.
Speaking of constructs, although the artificer had been watching the start of Lydia’s battle raptly, his hands had not been idle. Instead, they’d been reaching into the various leather belt bags at his waist, activating various constructs that skittered to life. The soft hum of the crystal fueled machinery provided a gentle contrast to the clanking an
