Shadows 11.2
Jun. 16th, 2008 01:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
measured_wordsOh, I have been planning this for a while. Well, I had something else planned, but in-game events made me change my plans. In the end it is for the best I think - I now Know just how to end this thing! Don't know exactly how I'll get everything in to pace yet, though :) We shall see!
Hadyn peered ahead carefully in the dim light. Teah, ears perked as she strained for the source of the mad screaming that echoed off the sewers’ stone walls, kept close by his side. Abe, scowling sourly, trailed behind. It annoyed him to realize just how much she’d been keeping from him, though he knew that in her own way, she was sharing more than she ever had before. Perhaps they should have focused more o practical training to begin with.
On terms of their mission, then, so far so good. This was their second trip in to the sewers of Bellaboca. They’d slipped out of their hotel, the Silver Fox, in defiance of the curfew. Crimson Masks, and other cult minions, lurked beneath the city, and the trio was there to hunt.
:More ahead,: Teah thought to him. :Three.:
Hadyn held three fingers up to Abe, then pointed to the tunnel that crossed their path ahead. She nodded, reaching in to the pouch where she kept her spells written out on thin slips of parchment. This would be the second batch the group had tangled with tonight, and hopefully the last. Hadyn had a number of spells that were quite effective against the manic demon warriors, but he was running short. Most of those he had left were quite destructive, also, which was counter to their purpose. They ultimately wanted to capture, not kill, and track down were the creatures were being made. Despite the information Hadyn had passed to his teacher from his own as well as other Loyalist investigations, Abe apparently wanted to see for herself.
The screaming was drawing nearer, but it was hard to gauge whether they’d been made or the Masks were simply following their own deranged whims as they cantered madly through the sewer maze. They could be controlled, and though they weren’t always, the magic Symbols, mostly of Pain, indicated to the trio the presence of a creature of higher brain function. Abe was convinced it was some other demon though, in Hadyn’s experience, humans often served this phase of the cult’s operations. They’d spent the previous evening, after disabling a few wards but returning empty handed, arguing the point.
The night’s previous encounter had gone sour when too many reinforcements had arrived to assist the two Masks they’d first encountered. Hadyn had cast one of his emergency spells on the group, reducing the two injured, as well as the three new arrivals, to dusty wizened husks. Abe had accused him of panicking, but he could tell she didn’t mean it. She’d said it to be cruel, because that was her way. If she really thought he’d panicked, they wouldn’t have pressed on. No – it was almost ironic. Battle clarified things for Hadyn. He knew where things stood more clearly when faced with an immediate threat. It gave him focus. He knew he’d made the right call.
He looked to Teah again. :Only three?:
Three was their limit. Even with their best protective spells active, his familiar was the only one who could stand up against a mask in a prolonged combat. Time had been their enemy in the last fight too.
:For now, I only smell three.:
He nodded, and began to prepare a spell. The shrieking was close enough that an encounter was inevitable in any case. Teah was eager for another match, and cpiled herself to pounce. She could be relied to keep one fully occupied. The old witch claimed she could tackle one on her own. Hadyn was willing to take her at her word, if only to see just what all she was capable of.
When the creatures tore around the bend, the trio was ready. Teah sprang almost before they were in sight, raking her claws in to the chest of the closest target, and continuing to tear in to it as she dragged it, screaming and squirming, to her preferred range.
Hadyn spared little attention to the details of her combat, concentrating on his spell and its target – the middle of the three. He succeeded in overwhelming its magical defenses, and the demon found itself trapped in an invulnerable, immobile, globe. It wailed and sliced helplessly at its prison with its paired wavy blades. The wizard smirked, then turned to watch Abe in action.
It was mostly over. The creature she’d handled lay immobile on the ground, face up, a paper spell pinned to its face. It had dropped its weapons, but not before landing a serious gash across the Southerner’s chest. She was reading the words of a healing scroll through clenched teeth, pressing on the wound with her empty hand. Fine then.
Her eyes narrowed – it took him half a second to realize that she was glaring past, not at, him – then widened in uncharacteristic alarm. Teah roared, throwing away the corpse of the Mask she’d been fighting, and turned.
Hadyn could smell burning sulpur and brimstone. The small hairs at the back of his neck prickled, and a cold tingle shot down his spine and pooled in to a knot of tension in his stomach. An echo of the Masks’ mad laughter resonated at the back of his thoughts, the voice a mockery of his own. He whirled around to stand with the others, knowing what he would see before it revealed itself.
“Stand back,” Abe ordered, her voice commanding authority. Hadyn wasn’t sure who she was addressing, but found himself moving regardless. The creature’s burning eyes had come to rest on him already.
It spoke a word, and the world exploded in to flames around him. He threw up his arms to protect his face, but it was only instinct. The protective spells he’d cast earlier warded him from the worst of the damage. He was not completely unscathed, however – his robes ad hair smouldered and his skin felt raw. Teah was fine, of course – her enhanced reflexes had carried her out of range before the blast had hit. Even now she prepared to lunge her revenge.
“Back,” Abe hissed again, her voice cracking hoarsely. She’d been burned more badly. The skin on her hands and face was blackened, and the remnants of her coiled grey hair spidered across her face in smoking whisps. Her voice had lost none of its command, and her eyes flashed with a fire to rival the Balor’s. She was preparing a spell, Hadyn noted as he readied his own, but it didn’t matter. One sweep of its great wings sent them both sprawling.
Before he could recover his footing, it was on him, pinning him to the ground. Its burning hand crushed the breath from his lungs, its talons digging deep cuts into his back. He heard Teah’s fierce snarl as she launched herself at the demon, and struggled to lift his staff. Neither of them could prevail. Though he had magically augmented her strength and enchanted her teeth and claws, Teah’s attack had little effect. Hadyn himself was too firmly pinned to cast or defend himself. The laughter at the back of his mind grew louder, and he could taste his own blood on his lips. The Balor lifted him off the ground.
Too weak to free himself, Hadyn fought instead to maintain his tenuous self-control against the rising tide of blackness that threatened to overwhelm him from within. It promised relief, strength, and revenge against all. It promised power, and he could feel it feeding on his weakness and the Balor’s demonic energies. He clung, for now, to his knowledge of the price of submission to its dark design, and cast about for some sliver of hope. Teah couldn’t save him, but he could hear Abe chanting. There she stood, paper in one hand, reaching out to them as she supported herself against the brick of the sewer walls. Blood dripped from a cut above her eyes.
Teah pounced again, trying to free her master from the demon’s grip. It was still too strong for the great cat, but she’d bought him an opportunity, if he could seize it. Hadyn lifted his staff, preparing to channel one of its strongest enchantments against his captor. He choked on the command word, jaw clenching against his conscious will. The staff slipped from his fingers.
“COME, FIEND!” A booming voice, thick with evil, resonated through the narrow passages beneath Bellaboca. He felt himself responding, in opposition to, and yet in perfect accordance with his desire. The Balor squeezed, deepening his wounds. Wracked with pain, shadowed from within by his invited darkness, he reached instinctively for salvation as he felt the hand of death wind more tightly around him.
In that moment, he fell.
In that moment, a great bellow – rage, pain, frustration – followed on the heels of the Balor’s invocation.
Hadyn landed on all fours, his reactions already quickening. His talons scraped the slimy floor, and he stayed in a crouch as his wings began to unfold, tearing through weak skin, stretching out to fill the tunnel juncture.
He hissed a warning as he drew his spell of escape to his mind. Teah growled in confusion as their connection severed, perhaps this time for good. In mere moments, freedom would be his – and moments were all he had. He turned to the witch a derisive scowl falling in to place across his twisted features.
But she was quicker. Prepared, prescient, distrustful – it didn’t matter. She’d no sooner finished with the Balor (turned, he decided, like a cleric’s power over the undead) than she brought her power to bear on him. Of course she was ready for this. She cut him with something, a scratch that should have been nothing.
“Weak-minded coward,” he heard her spit, but the rushing in his ears and the sounds of his own twisted screams drowned out everything else.
And then, nothing.
Hadyn peered ahead carefully in the dim light. Teah, ears perked as she strained for the source of the mad screaming that echoed off the sewers’ stone walls, kept close by his side. Abe, scowling sourly, trailed behind. It annoyed him to realize just how much she’d been keeping from him, though he knew that in her own way, she was sharing more than she ever had before. Perhaps they should have focused more o practical training to begin with.
On terms of their mission, then, so far so good. This was their second trip in to the sewers of Bellaboca. They’d slipped out of their hotel, the Silver Fox, in defiance of the curfew. Crimson Masks, and other cult minions, lurked beneath the city, and the trio was there to hunt.
:More ahead,: Teah thought to him. :Three.:
Hadyn held three fingers up to Abe, then pointed to the tunnel that crossed their path ahead. She nodded, reaching in to the pouch where she kept her spells written out on thin slips of parchment. This would be the second batch the group had tangled with tonight, and hopefully the last. Hadyn had a number of spells that were quite effective against the manic demon warriors, but he was running short. Most of those he had left were quite destructive, also, which was counter to their purpose. They ultimately wanted to capture, not kill, and track down were the creatures were being made. Despite the information Hadyn had passed to his teacher from his own as well as other Loyalist investigations, Abe apparently wanted to see for herself.
The screaming was drawing nearer, but it was hard to gauge whether they’d been made or the Masks were simply following their own deranged whims as they cantered madly through the sewer maze. They could be controlled, and though they weren’t always, the magic Symbols, mostly of Pain, indicated to the trio the presence of a creature of higher brain function. Abe was convinced it was some other demon though, in Hadyn’s experience, humans often served this phase of the cult’s operations. They’d spent the previous evening, after disabling a few wards but returning empty handed, arguing the point.
The night’s previous encounter had gone sour when too many reinforcements had arrived to assist the two Masks they’d first encountered. Hadyn had cast one of his emergency spells on the group, reducing the two injured, as well as the three new arrivals, to dusty wizened husks. Abe had accused him of panicking, but he could tell she didn’t mean it. She’d said it to be cruel, because that was her way. If she really thought he’d panicked, they wouldn’t have pressed on. No – it was almost ironic. Battle clarified things for Hadyn. He knew where things stood more clearly when faced with an immediate threat. It gave him focus. He knew he’d made the right call.
He looked to Teah again. :Only three?:
Three was their limit. Even with their best protective spells active, his familiar was the only one who could stand up against a mask in a prolonged combat. Time had been their enemy in the last fight too.
:For now, I only smell three.:
He nodded, and began to prepare a spell. The shrieking was close enough that an encounter was inevitable in any case. Teah was eager for another match, and cpiled herself to pounce. She could be relied to keep one fully occupied. The old witch claimed she could tackle one on her own. Hadyn was willing to take her at her word, if only to see just what all she was capable of.
When the creatures tore around the bend, the trio was ready. Teah sprang almost before they were in sight, raking her claws in to the chest of the closest target, and continuing to tear in to it as she dragged it, screaming and squirming, to her preferred range.
Hadyn spared little attention to the details of her combat, concentrating on his spell and its target – the middle of the three. He succeeded in overwhelming its magical defenses, and the demon found itself trapped in an invulnerable, immobile, globe. It wailed and sliced helplessly at its prison with its paired wavy blades. The wizard smirked, then turned to watch Abe in action.
It was mostly over. The creature she’d handled lay immobile on the ground, face up, a paper spell pinned to its face. It had dropped its weapons, but not before landing a serious gash across the Southerner’s chest. She was reading the words of a healing scroll through clenched teeth, pressing on the wound with her empty hand. Fine then.
Her eyes narrowed – it took him half a second to realize that she was glaring past, not at, him – then widened in uncharacteristic alarm. Teah roared, throwing away the corpse of the Mask she’d been fighting, and turned.
Hadyn could smell burning sulpur and brimstone. The small hairs at the back of his neck prickled, and a cold tingle shot down his spine and pooled in to a knot of tension in his stomach. An echo of the Masks’ mad laughter resonated at the back of his thoughts, the voice a mockery of his own. He whirled around to stand with the others, knowing what he would see before it revealed itself.
“Stand back,” Abe ordered, her voice commanding authority. Hadyn wasn’t sure who she was addressing, but found himself moving regardless. The creature’s burning eyes had come to rest on him already.
It spoke a word, and the world exploded in to flames around him. He threw up his arms to protect his face, but it was only instinct. The protective spells he’d cast earlier warded him from the worst of the damage. He was not completely unscathed, however – his robes ad hair smouldered and his skin felt raw. Teah was fine, of course – her enhanced reflexes had carried her out of range before the blast had hit. Even now she prepared to lunge her revenge.
“Back,” Abe hissed again, her voice cracking hoarsely. She’d been burned more badly. The skin on her hands and face was blackened, and the remnants of her coiled grey hair spidered across her face in smoking whisps. Her voice had lost none of its command, and her eyes flashed with a fire to rival the Balor’s. She was preparing a spell, Hadyn noted as he readied his own, but it didn’t matter. One sweep of its great wings sent them both sprawling.
Before he could recover his footing, it was on him, pinning him to the ground. Its burning hand crushed the breath from his lungs, its talons digging deep cuts into his back. He heard Teah’s fierce snarl as she launched herself at the demon, and struggled to lift his staff. Neither of them could prevail. Though he had magically augmented her strength and enchanted her teeth and claws, Teah’s attack had little effect. Hadyn himself was too firmly pinned to cast or defend himself. The laughter at the back of his mind grew louder, and he could taste his own blood on his lips. The Balor lifted him off the ground.
Too weak to free himself, Hadyn fought instead to maintain his tenuous self-control against the rising tide of blackness that threatened to overwhelm him from within. It promised relief, strength, and revenge against all. It promised power, and he could feel it feeding on his weakness and the Balor’s demonic energies. He clung, for now, to his knowledge of the price of submission to its dark design, and cast about for some sliver of hope. Teah couldn’t save him, but he could hear Abe chanting. There she stood, paper in one hand, reaching out to them as she supported herself against the brick of the sewer walls. Blood dripped from a cut above her eyes.
Teah pounced again, trying to free her master from the demon’s grip. It was still too strong for the great cat, but she’d bought him an opportunity, if he could seize it. Hadyn lifted his staff, preparing to channel one of its strongest enchantments against his captor. He choked on the command word, jaw clenching against his conscious will. The staff slipped from his fingers.
“COME, FIEND!” A booming voice, thick with evil, resonated through the narrow passages beneath Bellaboca. He felt himself responding, in opposition to, and yet in perfect accordance with his desire. The Balor squeezed, deepening his wounds. Wracked with pain, shadowed from within by his invited darkness, he reached instinctively for salvation as he felt the hand of death wind more tightly around him.
In that moment, he fell.
In that moment, a great bellow – rage, pain, frustration – followed on the heels of the Balor’s invocation.
Hadyn landed on all fours, his reactions already quickening. His talons scraped the slimy floor, and he stayed in a crouch as his wings began to unfold, tearing through weak skin, stretching out to fill the tunnel juncture.
He hissed a warning as he drew his spell of escape to his mind. Teah growled in confusion as their connection severed, perhaps this time for good. In mere moments, freedom would be his – and moments were all he had. He turned to the witch a derisive scowl falling in to place across his twisted features.
But she was quicker. Prepared, prescient, distrustful – it didn’t matter. She’d no sooner finished with the Balor (turned, he decided, like a cleric’s power over the undead) than she brought her power to bear on him. Of course she was ready for this. She cut him with something, a scratch that should have been nothing.
“Weak-minded coward,” he heard her spit, but the rushing in his ears and the sounds of his own twisted screams drowned out everything else.
And then, nothing.
