Session Eighteen, Part Four: There will always be a Swamp Hag...
The feeling of water on his face brought Benares back to consciousness. He could feel cracked ribs griding against each other as he struggled to the surface, spitting blood and swamp muck. Already the tendrils were reaching for him again - and one of the emormous crocodiles was slowly turning its body, the menacing snout searching for him.
He forced himself to ignore the pain that tore through his side, pulling himself out of the water into the low branches of the tree he'd impacted, climbing as high as he could before the plant entangled him. Below, the crocodile tried to focus on him, bumped the tree experimentally with its jaw.
He gritted his teeth, reaching over his shoulder to free the bow he carried, setting an arrow to the string. The tree shuddered as the crocodile's tail pounded it, and Benares let the plants hold him steady as he aimed - not at the crocodile threatening him, but at its companion.
The arrow flew.
Di'Fier kicked at the crocodile, feeling its teeth shredding the meat from his leg. He couldn't bring his sword to bear as it tossed him like a chew toy, and what was left of his boots didn't seem to be making an impression on it either.
He felt the great beast shudder, its jaws loosen a fraction of an inch, and he kicked again. Great furrows tore down his leg, and the water around him swirled with dark blood - but he was free. Shoving off with his good leg, he stabbed his sword into the trunk of a tree, and then seized a branch, pulling himself upward - just inches ahead of the creature's jaws!
The blood did not drip from his leg so much as pour from it, in a thin but steady stream. He forced himself to concentrate, to hold on. And then a scream drew his attention to Dru and Shesara.
Geirstein had fought his way out of the entangling plants, but now he floated, unconscious or dead, his crude spear still clutched in one hand, his throat ripped open by the Hag's sharp teeth. Shesara clutched her sword in one hand, her other held tightly across her body where a bloodstain spread. She stumbled as she fought. And Dru, blood-soaked but still fighting, despite the chunks of flesh ripped from her by the Swamp Hag's claws.
He licked his lips, called one of his few remaining spells to mind.
Dru parried a swipe from the hag, her blade turning aside from the creature's hardened skin and barely keeping the claws from her face. The sheer force of the blow drove her back a step. She could feel a tree at her back, and knew she could retreat no further. The Hag advanced, a gleeful expression on her bloated face.
Then golden light arced across the swamp, twisting through the trees but striking inexorably at the green woman hitting her again and again. She began to snarl the words of a spell, and Dru shoved herself off from the tree, her rapier before her, plunging deep into the giant woman's thigh. She twisted, and was rewarded with a gout of blood.
Maybe that will even the odds, Dru thought, as the Hag's scream sent her spell into oblivion.
The tails of the giant crocodiles slammed into the trees, splintering wood beneath their hammerlike blows. It wouldn't survive much more of this, Di'Fier knew, and he reached down to yank his blade free.
It's bleeding, he thought to himself.
If I jump down on it, I might be able to kill it...then the others can get away. His head swam, his vision blurred. The tree shook again, and he prepared to leap, as the tail swung again.
But the blow never came.
Di'Fier forced his eyes to focus.
Are they...?
"Mister Di'Fier!" Jim exclaimed. "Them crocodiles just vanished!"
"Spell..." he muttered, but his mouth was too dry to make it audible. He looked towards the battle at the edge of the swamp, knowing he could never make it through the
entangle to help his friend and partner.
Shesara lunged clumsily, her blade opening a cut on the Hag's calf, and then shuffled to the right. The Hag turned her malevolent gaze on the blonde elf, and Shesara licked her lips, bringing the sword up in a desperate defense. In all of the songs and tales, the heros had witty things to say at times like these, but her thoughts deserted her.
And then Dru moved.
Leaping upward in a spray of fetid water, she seized the thick ropy hair of the hag, pulling herself upward as she drove her blade home, under the ribs. The rapier twisted, and Dru dropped from the back of the Hag, dodging backwards to avoid the corpse as it crumpled to the water. Then, she sank to one knee.
"Dru!" Shesara cried, but the other elf waved her away.
"Geirstein first...if he lives. I'll survive."
"Are you sure it's safe to stay here?"
"We're in no shape to go anywhere else, Geirstein," Dru said, poking up the fire.
At least the Hag had plenty of firewood. I don't think any of us are in a shape to collect it.
"Tomorrow I'll be able to heal us all some more," Shesara added. "We should be able to make it out of the swamp."
"I was just thinking about what you said," the half-elven mercenary continued. "That the Zombi Master told you there will always be a swamp hag. You don't think its whoever kills her gets to become the next one, do you?"
Dru shook her head. "I doubt it. I don't feel any different. Besides, Papa would be very upset if I became ten feet tall and green."
"Miss Dru, look what I've found!" The halfling held out a box. Huge in his hands, it must have been tiny to the hag, made of delicately carved wood. "Treasure!" His eyes glowed with the possibility.
Di'Fier coughed. "Maybe we should leave that alone for now, Jim. It might have a trap on it." Seeing that the halfling was not discouraged, he added, "Or a curse."
Jim set the box down carefully and backed silently away.
"We'll look it over tomorrow, in the light."
"Well, I don't
see any sign of a trap," Dru said. "I'm going to open it. Everyone else is out of the way?"
"Yes," Di'Fier nodded. He muttered the words to a protective charm under his breath, though, just in case.
"Here goes." Dru flipped back the lid, held her breath. Nothing happened.
Inside the velvet-lined box was a small pouch, and a curious scepter-like item, its end covered with silver studs. They had just enough time to wonder what exactly it was before the box exploded in flames.
Dru scowled as Shesara worked with the knife.
"
I think it suits you, Dru," the other elf said, letting another scorched bit of hair fall to the ground. "You look good with short hair."
"I wouldn't
know if long hair suited me," Dru growled. "Every time I try to grow it, it gets burned off. I think I'm just going to get a wig. Di'Fier, stop snickering and tell me what we found."
"Well," the mage said. "The Hag's pearl pendant is magical, but I'm not certain what it does. And this," he tapped the rod, "is definitely a source of strong evocation magic, but past that I'm not certain." He hefted it. "It does seem like it'd make a nice bludgeon, though." Reversing it, he offered it to Shesara. "Why don't you hang onto it for now? It's got to be better than that cutlass you've been using."
Four days later, the seven weary travelers returned to Tanaroa. Namfoodle met them at the giant gate, fingers lacing and unlacing worriedly. "Praise be! You are all alive!" he said. "The entire village is in an uproar. Mnembe tells us that Matriarch J'kal has vanished!"
Dru and Di'Fier exchanged looks, and the elf sighed. "I'll bet I know where she is."
"When did she vanish?" Di'Fier asked.
"Four days ago."
"Then she won't be coming back."
