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No longer half-hidden by branches, the ugly creature--once a sylph, perhaps?--crouches before you, a half-melted candle of a person. In response to your sudden movements, the membranous, misshapen wings flap wetly, like limp damp rags of skin.
(familiar to two of you - wings that Abbygailiwy tried to steal, that mysteriously disappeared.)
A cultured baritone voice, flatter in tone now, says, "Give up. You can't kill me." Blue eyes light up-
Iniga's eyes light up a little in excitement "You mean I can keep hitting you over and over and you keep coming back for more? Wow, this is like all my birthdays rolled into one!" she quips, hefting her greatsword before appraising the creature.
"So whats up with the wings? Trying to be a butterfly? Between you and me darling you still need to do a little more work on that front.
"Dammit Erret, I thought Abby had finished you off. What do you want with a bunch of composite elementals anyway?"
A sudden fear grips Samen, and he scans the monster in front of them for any sign of Samoon or his light cross.
Marianne goes for the wings, knowing they are infused with one of her favored enemies - air creatures. The servants and creations of the Sky god who had failed her so utterly time and again. She takes two shots,
and the first hits, ripping a sizable hole in the right wing.
Out of the branches now, you all see a significant portion of the monstrous sylph's skull is missing. It is like a shattered bowl half-full brackish water. The mouth talks clumsily. "I can't die."
The electric blue eyes, slit like a cat's, are embedded in the flesh of Erret's concave chest. Foul magic, stinking and greasy-fingered, creeps into your ears and whispers softly of horrors.
Iniga, the creature seems tired for a moment after releasing the stinking fear, and swoops lower, struggling to stay aloft on its damaged wing.
Samen hesitates in response to the different manifestation he's taken and between that and the fear effect, creeping doubt sets in.
Nevertheless, he charges in, enchanting his staff with flame.
Not wishing to touch the long-tainted el with his bare hands, if that is what Erret could be called, Wamblee charges forward with no hesitation and drive his speartip forward.
"Erret, it is over. Tell us what you know of the Dark!"
Iniga triggers her Raging Song, glowing with a flaming aura as she prepares to strike.
Marianne shoots Erret's right wing.
Iniga starts her song.
Erret pours his celeric blue fear on all of you, but affects only Samen.
Samen's anxious hindbrain distracts him, shouting run! while he tries to swing his staff. The staff misses by a few inches.
Wamblee strikes true with his spear. Black blood sizzles on the enchanted metal, raising an acrid stink.
Fast but calm, Marianne shoots another two spiteful arrows into the left wing.
Not hearing any reply from Erret, Wamblee sees no reason to pause, even speeding his strikes with sheer earth power.
I doubt I would have one anyway.
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Shut up brain, or you get the stick next!
He dashes down toward Erret, flanking him with Wamblee, and attempts to beat him down again.
map link here (as available at top of page)
Iniga steps up and swings her greatsword, trying to carve the creature in half.
Marianne ruins the second flapping wing, grounding Erret.
Iniga chops the monster across the shoulder, lopping most of his arm. Thick, slow drops of tar weep from the wound.
From his many wounds, Erret drips fat tears of tar that form into warped versions of himself, getting in the way of attacks.
Wamblee hits twice, and Samen hits once. The tarry duplicates do very little, and large parts of Erret's body turns to pulp under the assault.
Wamblee focuses on the grim task at hand...
Erret needs to die! This time hopefully will hopefully be his last!
...ending with a particularly brutal thrust.
What is he getting at? He's got nothing to gain here.
Samen takes another swing at the mutated creature, lost in unnerved thought.
Iniga still doesn't understand what this Erret character seemed to scary - he/she/it seemed to bleed just like anything else she had fought. Confident, she swings her blade again.
The pathetic creature that called itself Kothaal i Erret is killed by an enchanted spear to the heart. The mouth screams "No, I can't die-!" but says no more. Iniga's greatsword decapitates the thing, silencing it.
The blackblood's form sags, melts, spills like wet clay upon the snow. All that is left is a shriveled lump of flesh--what could have been a heart, once--spitted upon Wamblee's spear.
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Without taking his eyes from the tainted lump pierced by his spear, Wamblee replies.
"Erret has kept coming back to plague us ever since just after Father's funeral. A walking blasphemy and a damned nuisance at once."
"Would anyone care to scorch the remains into ash? I do not wish to wipe my spear on anything decent with *that* still affixed to it."
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With the cause of his fright now melted away (again), Samen calms down."At least something remains this time. I don't know what the volc Abby did to him, but he seemed different this time. Weaker. Desperate."
Samen considers Wamblee's request carefully. "Are you sure, brother? Last time, I was very clearly told not to burn things anymore, and I bet his heart smells at least as bad as fish."
"We weren't scared of the damn fish coming back. Burn it all. Thoroughly."
"Maybe you weren't scared... Anyway, shall we do it together, Iniga?"
Samen prepares intense fire magic to accompany his cousin in a duet of destruction.
"Context, Samen. Context is key.", Wamblee says, a smile escaping onto his face.
Iniga frowns a little as she takes the creatures head off "He didn't seem too tough, I don't see what was all the fuss was about. Still, I'm not going to object to a little incineration, provided we localise it to just the remains. I'll lend my expertise Samen, and I'll try not to burn the entire place down while doing so"
"Pretty tough for a guy with half his head missing."
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Samen charges up his staff with fire magic, and sets himself aflame as well for good measure. His flames are fueled with hate for all the loss this creature caused. His parents. His quiet life. Rokerenge. Root. Gods know what else. He may or may not be dead, but either way he would feel the searing heat of uninhibited wrath.
He brings the staff as close to the heart as he can without making contact, and pauses, making eye contact with Iniga. "On Three. One, two, three!"
He plunges his staff into the squishy mass and empties himself of all his pent up frustrations and shame. Erret wasn't responsible for all of life's problems, but in this moment, in Samen's eyes, he bears it all and suffers justly. "BURN!!!"
Iniga, you feel the Hand at your side resonate with Samen's fiery anger, adding a righteous fury to the young warlock's raw emotion. The light becomes too bright too look at-
and when your vision clears, there is no heart. No sludge. No tar. No Erret. Spotless snow is falling on this cloudy winter day, and it seems the cleanest you've ever seen.
Tuan Sho's high, hesitant voice comes from the edge of the clearing. "Samen...you are not trying to summon fire elementals now, are you? I do not think that would be wise, my friend."
The rest of the world comes back into focus as the after image of searing light fades from his eyes. It takes Samen a moment to register the meaning of Tuan Sho's words. "Hmm? No, this was merely waste disposal. If I were conjuring elementals, I would probably start with something safer than fire."
Wamblee holds the spear firmly, come what may.
"Oh, well that's alright then I suppose." He fidgets with the front of his robe. "Would anyone wish to play cards? I'm not part of the family, so I have much time on my hands while the master completes his rituals."
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"Mnf. I will allow my spear to cool somewhat before placing it upon the ground, then allow my hands to cool, and then I would gladly play cards."
"I'll play some cards as well" Iniga offers, kicking any ashes away as she does so.
"I'm in."
She turns to her brother. "Hey Samen, it's four card players and four different kinds of elens. Maybe we'll turn into one of those composites you're always talking about."
Tuan Sho laughs vaguely at Marianne's comment, clearly not understanding it. "Let us play Impoliteness."
Tuan Sho takes a packet of fine purple silk from his pocket, which is cinched closed with bands of sylphan rubber. Removing the stretchy bands, he reveals with a mild flourish a deck of worn but serviceable playing cards, done in the undan style of blue borders and elegant artwork.
A single tenor "Ahhh...." floats from the undine's mouth and forms a broad, cold table of ice. Deftly, he separates the cards into the four different suits. Iniga is dealt the suit of urns. Marianne the suit of vultures. Wamblee receives graves. Which leaves Tuan Sho with crocodiles. He shrugs sheepishly. "It seemed appropriate."
Samen glowers at the ashes, blowing away into the river. "If only it were that easy, Mar. Uh, if it's okay with the rest of you, I think I'd rather be alone right now."
He goes a distance away and tries to resolve all of his emotions privately and silently.
Tuan Sho carries Wamblee to victory in the first game, knocking down Iniga's and Marianne's cards. Trying to find a way to be polite, Tuan Sho says, "Ah, that was a good effort by everyone. I would like to play another hand, if all are amenable."
"Take care, brother.", says Wamblee with sympathy, before turning to the game.
*****************
"I am indeed amenable."
Marianne spins an unused card in her hand- the priestess of vultures. "Sure."