Heh, I can barely see (my eyes are dialated, and I have the screen blown up so that this text box about fills it), but I
can cut and paste, so here's the Friday update-slash-cliffhanger:
Oh, and we'll see what happens with Mr. G on Monday.
* * * * *
Chapter 604
The titan Corumbos felt a piercing chill spread through his chest as another beam from the retriever penetrated the last lingering remnants of fire and stabbed into him. The insectoid construct seemed to have grasped through whatever weird intellect that it possessed that he was not vulnerable to fire, so it was focusing exclusively on cold blasts as it skittered back and forth across the cliff top on its damaged limbs. The titan had extended the area of both
fire storms to include the top of the cliff, but the thing had backed away and had managed to avoid being snared in the second.
The half-fiend archers, on the other hand… Well, there wasn’t much left of them; a second quickened
chain lightning on top of the two
fire storms had converted them into greasy smears on the iron stones.
The two flying fiends had likewise never come back; one could hope that the rocs had enjoyed their repast in the brief moments before they returned to their plane of origin.
The titan had taken his own share of abuse, however. The hezrous clinging to his legs had sank their vicious teeth into the muscles at the backs of his knees, inflicting painful wounds even despite his considerable resistance to physical damage. Both had survived the
fire storms, and a third kept harassing him with
unholy blights that kept popping up around his head, doggedly trying to penetrate his spell resistance.
But first, the retriever.
The titan raised a hand into a fist, and with a white flash a shaft of cracking energy formed, poised to hurl. Corumbos threw the javelin with unerring accuracy, piercing the spidery construct through, knocking it backwards into an ungainly heap.
With that threat taken care of, he turned to the little demons worrying at his legs. One of them was working at the lower parts of his half-plate armor, trying to get to something vulnerable.
With a grimace of distaste, Corumbos slammed the head of his gargantuan warhammer down into its skull.
The second one looked up just in time to get swatted like an annoying fly.
Another
blight exploded around the titan’s head.
Annoyed, the titan started to look for the last demon. While he’d taken a good amount of punishment, they weren’t a match for him, not really.
But they were keeping him busy.
Benzan pulled himself to his feet, fighting a sudden surge of disorientation that threatened to pull him back down to the ground. But the sight of Dana, caught in agony in the grasp of the giant fiend’s tentacles, gave him the strength he needed to overcome that weakness. He bent to recover the sword Dana had brought him, and staggered toward the monster’s flank.
Dana could feel her life energy ebbing from her body, drained along with her blood by the tentacles that pierced her. Most of her higher-order spells were gone, depleted in the battle or in the preparations she’d undertaken before opening the
gate. Each day for the last tenday she’d begun with the same ritual, trying to determine Benzan’s location through powerful divinations, including
discern location. Just a few minutes ago, she’d finally succeeded, getting a positive lock on his presence here, upon one of the floating cubes of Achaeron. It had taken all of her will not to immediately open the
gate and charge through at that instant. But she’d learned much about Graz’zt from her interrogations of Barrat Ghur, and so she forced herself to be deliberate, casting spells for almost a full minute, culminating in one
gate through which she’d called
Corumbos, before opening a second directly to Benzan’s location.
But now, it seemed as though all her preparations had been for naught; the creature that had been created from the succubus was incredibly strong, and she lacked the power to defeat it.
That wayward thought caused her to snarl, and all doubts disappeared as she drew a new and intense focus.
Summoning the power of Selûne, maintaining her concentration through a supreme effort of will, she grabbed one of the tentacles holding her and unleashed an
inflict critical wounds into it. The twisting appendage turned black and withered, leaving a tattered remnant that drooped from the creature’s jaws. The tentacle around her ankle tightened its grip in response, and as the other attached to her body continued to drain her, weakness began to creep over her like a warm exhaustion.
No! her mind screamed, as she refused to give in to that soft and deadly call. With a cry of pain she grabbed the edges of the tentacle piercing her side and tore it free. Blood—her blood—sprayed out from the terrible wound, and the long pincers slashed at her hands, already trying to reestablish the connection she’d broken.
Before she could attempt another escape, however, the creature lifted its arms and closed both hands around her, crushing her body, its claws digging into her flesh. Dana tried to summon the power of Selûne, but that pure source of energy seemed to be on the far side of a vast haze of pain that clouded her consciousness. She knew she was diminished, drained by the demon’s touch, but there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop it.
Benzan was thinking the same thing, as he came up behind the demon. He knew that he would have only one chance to strike; from the force of the glancing blow he’d taken before, the demon could tear him to pieces in a few seconds. The sword felt heavy and alien in his hand, and his reflexes felt awkward; after all the time he’d spent in the “care” of Graz’zt’s minions, he felt like a child taking its first steps.
But then he caught sight of the humanoid lion that had been at Dana’s side earlier. The were-creature was covered in blood, but rushed forward at the demon with a clear purpose, its claws poised to strike.
The demon saw him too, and transferring Dana to its left claw, it slashed down at the lyncanthrope with its right. The werelion leapt forward, absorbing a pair of long slashes down its back as it darted under its arm and came up directly before it. The creature did not hesitate, letting its momentum carrying directly
into the demon, leaping up onto its chest, tearing and slashing with both its fore and hind claws.
The demon, however, was more heavily armored than the most splendidly outfitted knight, and the werelion’s violent assault merely dug gashes into the hard chitinous plates that covered its torso in a thick belt. The demon drew its right claw back in, seizing the werelion around the neck, tearing it off of its body. Dana tried to use the distraction to break free again, but her movements were growing feeble, and all she could do was pound uselessly against the thick fingers that held her pinned.
But the werelion’s sacrifice had bought Benzan a second’s opening, and he used it to good advantage as he rushed up behind the fiend. He unleashed a furious yell that invoked all of the rage and frustration that had built up during his torment, slamming the sword to the hilt into the gap in the creature’s armor at the base of its spine that he’d marked.
The demon jerked up, and as its body straightened its vertebrae locked around the blade of the sword, tearing it from Benzan’s grasp. It lurched forward, a terrible scream exploding from its jaws. Laertes and Dana went flying as it released them suddenly. The creature fumbled about like a drunken man, as its body tried to adjust to the reality of its nearly severed spine. Finally, however, it stumbled and toppled over onto a half-melted tree that had sagged almost to the ground. One final hiss was torn from it, as it fell limp, impaled upon the iron branches.
Benzan managed to make it to where Dana had fallen, and he all but collapsed at her side. “Dana! Dana!” He dragged her into his arms. The priestess was pale and limp, and he started to dig in one of the pouches at her belt for a healing draught when she groaned.
“Stop shaking me so,” she said. He looked to see her conscious, if still woozy.
“Gods, that was crazy,” he said, as relief flooded into him. He opened his mouth to say… what? He was literally overwhelmed, and a dark, nagging whisper continued to menace at the edges of his thoughts, insisting that this could be yet another trick of Graz’zt’s, to further break down who he was, to do to him what had been done to Delem, those years ago.
But now, with Dana in his arms, he didn’t care. He tried to say that, but his wife stopped him with a hand raised to his lips.
“We’re not safe here,” she said, her face taking on a look of intense concentration as she fought through the fog brought on by the battering she’d taken. Finally she uttered words of power, and a flush of life reappeared in her skin as she
restored herself.
“Help me up,” she said.
“Dana…”
She silenced him with a raised hand. “First we get out of here. Are you badly injured?” When he shook his head, she
healed herself, and all of her wounds instantly closed.
The werelion had gotten to his feet, likewise somewhat the worse for wear, and it now came over to join them. “Are you all right?” she asked him.
“I’ve been better,” the creature said, his voice—human, even somewhat cultured—sounding odd to Benzan coming from its bestial mouth. “And you would be Benzan, I presume?” he said, offering a claw to the tiefling.
Somewhat bewildered, Benzan shook it.
The werelion grasped his forearm. His grip was like iron, although he was careful not to scratch Benzan with his claws. But he did not release the tiefling, and after a moment Benzan began to feel a sudden sense of unease.
He turned to look at Dana, surprised to see a fearsome intensity in her eyes. “Dana, what…”
He never got a chance to finish his question, as Dana unleashed a blast of white fire directly into his face.