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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 2067529" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 336Beorna felt the tremor of impact as her sword slid through the body of the vrock.  She opened her eyes to see the demon thashing, impaled on the holy blade, and followed it as it collapsed to the ground, twisting the sword in the vicious wound.  For the demon, already injured by her earlier attacks, it was enough, and in moments it had dissolved into greasy black smoke. She turned just in time to hear the blasphemy uttered by the morkoth.  She was outside of the radius of the effect, and so she felt it as a vague dissonance, like a scream in the distance that one isn’t quite able to sort out from background noise.  But seeing the effect upon her comrades, she realized instantly what had happened. Even as the morkoth flapped down to the soaked cobbles of the street, she was charging.  Her boots splashed in puddles that steamed hot wisps of noxious volcanic gasses.  Her head was starting to swim, the toxic fumes from the lake searing her lungs.  The vrock spores had sprouted tendrils of ugly fibrous growth that showed through the gaps of her armor like long hairs, their pain persisting as they continued to burrow deeper into her flesh.  She had healing at her call, but there was no time for that now as she saw the demon stand over the prone form of Arun, prepared to end his life. “AAAAAAAAAARRRRRHHHHHH!” she screamed, channeling her pain into an inchoate cry of rage and battle as she ran at the fiend.  The morkoth turned and lifted the claw still clutching the wand, firing a lightning bolt that knifed into her chest.  She made no effort to dodge the blast, just took it, letting the pain purge her, fueling her with a wave of righteous fury as she slammed into the morkoth, smiting it with the holy power of Helm.  The backlash from its unholy aura slammed into her, and she felt her strength draining from her body, but the blow had nonetheless been telling, and the morkoth staggered backward, black blood oozing from a great cleft in its torso. The energy of her charge spent, Beorna was open to a counterattack from the morkoth.  But the fiend, now seriously injured, was feeling the growing surge of need.  Its lungs could not breathe air, and although the boiling lake promised pain, it was currently the only alternative to slow asphyxiation.  Beorna quickly recovered and rushed at it again, but a few strong beats of its wings were enough to carry it out over the surging waters, out of her reach.  With a final ugly sound it dove into the lake, which swallowed it with a huge splash. Beorna did not waste time watching it.  She knelt by Arun, and felt a surge of relief when she saw that he was merely stunned, and that he still drew breath.  His eyes were vacant, but she knew that to be an aftereffect of the spell, and that he would soon recover.  His skin was tight and cracked, and runnels of blood ran down his face from where his lips had split, results of the horrid wilting.  Beorna channeled a powerful stream of healing energy into him, carefully positioning him so that he would not be washed over by the nearby waters, before turning to where Hodge lay a few feet away. Even though she’d half expected it, it still pained her when she knelt to examine the dwarf.   Hodge was dead. A loud noise drew her attention up, and she saw the morkoth erupt once more from the lake, rising swiftly into the air on powerful beats of its wings.</blockquote>

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