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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1893438" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 278The kebular demodand Olarithusk wasn’t a very happy fiend.  Ripped from a grim but ultimately satisfying existence as the Subcommanding Warder for Block Fifteen-Four Sixty-Six, he’d been called to this uncomfortable place and bound, compelled to sit here in this ugly chamber and serve as a guardian.  He knew the identity of those who had bound him, and he was even sympathetic to their goals, but his cooperation had not been petitioned, his aid not sought voluntarily.  No, he’d been yanked from his duties on Carceri, dragged here and forced to service.  If he ever found out who’d given these mortals his truename...Olarithusk wasn’t even sure what it was he was guarding, and the brusque way that his captors had all but ignored him since he’d been held here was... annoying.  He hadn’t been here long by the standards of his kind, but he thought of his prisoners back on Carceri and the torments that they would be missing in his absence, and seethed.  He thought he sensed a magical viewing, but by the time he’d turned around, it was gone.  Blasted wizards, keeping an eye on him.  Oh, he’d love to have one of them in his cellblock for a few hours...The demodand was savoring that thought when the door to his chamber abruptly burst open, revealing an armored dwarf female.  Before he could react, the female dodged out of the way, revealing other mortals behind, weapons at the ready. Intruders! Olarithusk thought.  Finally!Pain shot through his body as arrows slammed into him, piercing his resistances and his thick hide alike to stab deep into his flabby torso.  Well, that was all right.  Pain was something that Olarithusk was accustomed to.  The arrows were followed by a bead of flame that blossomed around him into a fireball.  The ice lattice surrounding him shattered, releasing their intertwined energies in a cold flash, but that didn’t bother him either.  For Olarithusk was immune to both fire and cold. Let’s give the mortals some pain to enjoy! he thought, conjuring up an acid cloud in the space around the door.  The thick, greenish vapors engulfed the mortals quite satisfactorily, and while he couldn’t see it, Olarithusk imagined their thin, weak flesh puckering and running as the acid burned through it. But then the still-expanding cloud shimmered, and vanished from view.  Blasted wizards, Olarithusk thought.  Very well, he thought, clenching his huge fists in anticipation of doing this the “old fashioned” way.  But more of the arrows knifed out of the corridor, and while his thick hide turned a few, more stabbed deep.  He could feel the goodness infused in the shafts as each drove into him, and for a moment his fury was tinged with a sudden hint of fear.  For that, if nothing else, he would make these mortals suffer. But the barrage of missiles did not stop... how many of them are there? Olarithusk thought.  Invisibility was starting to look like a really good alternative to attack... but before he could summon the comforting shroud, the dwarf woman was charging, her sword glowing brightly in her fists.  The woman, and especially the sword, virtually reeked in goodness, and the kebular hesitated, for all that he dominated the dwarf with his physical presence. That moment cost it.  For Beorna, infused with both the divine power and divine favor of her patron—not to mention a few other useful buffs—drove forward, and at the last instant brought her sword down in a glimmering arc, slicing down through the demodand’s body, opening a gash seven feet in length from its breastbone down to its groin.  The fiend... deflated, its bloated body collapsing as its life poured out from the terrible wound.  Beorna stood there for a moment, covered in the steaming, acidic ichor of the demodand, looking down at her foe.  Then she lifted her hands in triumph, holding her sword high above her head. “By Helm!”</blockquote>

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