Chapter Forty Three: Familiar Issues (Part 2)
"He won't," Estella noted, "His type never do know when to shut the frack up." She widened her stance, the talismans protesting but beginning to wheel once more. They were struggling to keep up the focusing effect but they would not abandon their mother. The red cardinal twittered with worry as Estella began turning her hands again, gathering the power, feeling the motion of the water table deep beneath her, the hidden streams of the world responding to her call. This was what she had been born for, her talent hidden, buried by a place, a people who did not want to have to adapt, to grow, to accept that she could be as strong as anyone of them. Didn't want to have to put the effort in to stay superior by growing up themselves but she was not there any more, she was here, she was now and she wasn't afraid any more. Valodrael grinned even more widely as he felt her resolve thrum along the connection between them. His hoard, his queen was magnificent. He paced forward, eyes like the death of stars locking on to his next prey.
Estella's talismans were not the only ones to realise that this battle was going on longer than they wanted, or indeed needed, it to. As the werewolf Mutant circled, Thorian twitched his fingers on the hilt of his sword, wincing as the bones in his wrist crunched together. He could feel the damage joint trying to heal but it wasn't going quite right and he frowned at the squirmy feeling somehow inside his skin. The Mutant growled, circling, twitching its ears as it tried to decide how the battle was going, the smell of blood on the air but it could hear that the wounded were still on their feet. The werewolf Abomination that had attacked from the East whimpered as it looked from the headless body of its last pack mate to Thorian to the grinning Valodrael who was stalking closer. It whimpered again, ears down, tail low, breath coming hard and fast in little gasps. Thorian grunted and shook his blade again, scattering droplets of werewolf blood across the forest floor. The Werewolf Abomination turned and ran, bolting for the edge of the forest. Valodrael lunged, neck stretching impossibly long, teeth clashing a finger length behind the Abomination's hind most leg but it leapt forward with a scream, vaulting out of his reach, plunging forward without looking back. Valodrael growled but didn't pursue. A true dragon does not abandon his horde.
"Yeah, run little doggy!" Thorian shouted after it, not looking away from the Mutant as he did so, "Yah can't even be loyal to yah team! Runt! Pushalog! Spider leg!"
The Mutant growled again, pacing backwards, lips rippling back, teeth clicking in a threat display, warning Thorian off. Thorian growled back.
On the other side of the battle field Quenril, straightened, ignoring the burning pain across his stomach, lashing out to keep the werewolf Abominations that had come down out of the North away from his brothers. His sword cut high, cut low, hissed passed muzzles and cut passed eyes. The Abominations contorted their unnatural bodies to avoid the stinging edge of his blade, keeping out of the way but only just. Their frustrated snarls echoed round the clearing.
"Just how come these things are so damn tough to hit?" Ulrich protested, "I'm being to think that recklessness must be the answer to these things."
"Oh Trakanhini please don't let him start that again," Tasnar prayed and then realised what he had just said that out loud.
"I'll take that under advisory," Ulrich grinned even as he kept the Abominations at bay and Quenril breathed a sigh of relief and then, as an Abomination took it as an invitation to attack, whipped his sword up and across its muzzle. It stumbled back, squealing and lashing out. Its claws raked across the face of a pack mate. Said pack mate roared in pain and shock and struck back. It appeared to be a taboo or it had broken the fragile bounds of pack that ruled the lives of werewolves. Within seconds the Abominations were ripping at each other, jaws crushing and claws tearing, hands twisting limbs and necks until they broke. The forest floor was well watered, turning the leaf litter red and by the time the Abominations regretted their frenzy only three of them were left standing. They seemed slightly stunned about how far it had gone.
Thorian grunted, nostrils flaring as the Werewolf Mutant darted its eyes from side to side. It made the mistake of focusing on Estella for too long.
"It's Thorian time!" Thorian's roar made the air tremble. His heavy blade thrummed in the air and the Mutant's head bounced across the earth, rolling to a stop, still clicking its teeth in last muscle spasms. A white wolf turned its head as Thorian smashed into its pillar, blade whining with abuse as it scored the surface of stone. Thorian grunted as his chest slammed into it and he bounced off with a bruise that ran the entire length of his sternum.
"Hold. The. Spell!" Greely the Domilii commanded, the blue light over laying Greely the Werewolf's original face still flickering on one side between the human face of the Domilii and the other visage that turned Kaelin's stomach if she looked at it for too long. She didn't have a choice though as Nanny Tatters lumbered another step towards the glowing circle of runes, Ulrich was bogged down in the two squads that had come barrelling down out of the North and Thorian and Valodrael were not going to have time to circle round the outside of the spell to reach the mastermind pulling the strings on this pack of werewolves and possessing the worst of the lot. She turned and pumped for height, wings thumping against the air, chest muscles straining. She levelled, rolled, dropped.
"Greely! You rutting frack face!" she roared as she plummeted, the wind clawing the fur along her muzzle.
Greely the Domilii turned, darkness writhing around one clawed hand, a curse on lips of flesh and lips of blue light but Kaelin had timed it well. He didn't have a chance to finish the hex as Kaelin's claws punched into his sternum and her fangs found his throat. The crack and rip echoed through the night.
Greely's body hit the dirt within the runic circle, blood erasing the carefully prepare lines, the blue light flickering and whining as the hateful glow faded from his eyes, lips still rippled back from fangs as the last cough splattered into the night. Writhing and curling the soul form of the Domilii lifted from Greely's flesh, revealing the split body of the deputy of Kaelin's grandfather, rent by new wounds and scars still pink from their clash in the Citadel of the Snake Clan.
"I told you then and I told you now," Kaelin said from atop the stone pillar she had knocked him off, "I already have a pack and it is not yours. My pack doesn't force me to bend to their will and when I say no they accept that I don't want the attention. You never understood that."
She went to turn away in contempt and then she realised that the blue light that made up the Domilii wasn't dispersing.
"Oh double Shite," Estella muttered taking a step back, the shine of the glamour round her hands fading slightly, "This cannot be good." And then Valodrael's bulk was before her, shielding her as her friend roared a challenge to the wraith that twisted and tangled in the air above Greely's corpse.
The Domilii's soul rose higher into the air, wriggling, writhing, a fish out of water but this fish would have made a deep sea monster swim back to its hole and beg to be passed by, the human and the corruption spawned monstrosity coiling and splitting, ragged, uneven, disharmony made spiritual form, dragging the ragged ends of the broken spell with it. The scream was a high pitched whine that shredded over the nerves, a defilement of a baby's scream of pain mixed with the gobbling of some oozing slushy thing. Then it dived and undulated over the ground, the runes flaring and burning out behind it as it crashed into Nanny Tatters.
"Oh golly!" Tikrumpdel yelled as the Crone dragon beneath him heaved and rippled, odd things happening within her flesh, its structure becoming more like the branching fans of fungus somehow over laying each over and still acting as muscles, the pasty white hide she had grown over the last few weeks as Jeremiah had allowed her to consume prey with her time devouring breath weapon, darkening and becoming webbed with veins that bulged with a fluid that was definitely not blood. The flesh of her dreadlocks split at the ends to become grasping hands with too many fingers. Her wings creaked as flesh over grew and over grew until they seemed to be made of flat mats of vegetable material like the roots of a plant left too long in one pot so that it became bound in on itself. The dark poured across the surface of her eye, chasing the blue ahead of it until the colour was reversed, a solid globe of black with just a tiny dot of blue in the centre dominating her face.
"I'd like to see you do that to this vessel!" the Domilii's voice, no longer competing with Greely's growl, was the spite of an old tyrant losing his mask of affability. Piloting Nanny Tatters body he went to rear back and swot Kaelin like a bug... only to buckled under Tikrumpdel's weight.
"What? What is this?" he growled, head twisting to look over his own shoulder, "How dare you? Get off me!"
"Not likely," Tikrumpdel dug his claw in, "not when you are going to hurt the ones carrying my hoard."
The Domilii roared and beat his new wings, fanning the smell of something musty and damp around the clearing, the stench of sloughed off reptile skins rotting in an abandoned cellar.
Ignoring the thrashing possessed Crone dragon behind him Weatherall tried once again to grasp the werewolf Abomination before him. It ducked and swiped out at him, scratching its claws along the hard shell of his massive claw.
Valodrael's head wove from side to side. Trying to line up a shot at Nanny Tatters' bucking form but every time he thought that he had it and started drawing in the breath to create the Chill of the Void, she would shift and Tikrumpdel would swing either wing or tail into the target area. Valodrael growled in frustration but he respected the old Lava Dragon and would not willingly break their accord. If nothing else, though he had youth and mobility on his side, he was also crippled by Domilii's experiments while though Tikrumpdel was old and gross with self abuse, he was also experienced and the very fat that crippled his wings was also defence against many attacks and would make hitting his internal organs difficult in the extreme. It would also take only one blast of flame to melt Estella like a candle in a bonfire and that he would not risk. Peter whistled in distress as the second half of the werewolf Mutants that had attacked from the north started to charge, trying to coalesce with their fellows and run the giant centipede and Marmaduke under. The Chill of the Void howled through the clearing with the scream of tortured ice and shattering glaciers. Mutants toppled and shattered mid-stride, the Domilii screaming from Nanny Tatters' throat as her tail froze and splintered as it swung, the white werewolf on the top of the pillar closest to that side of the battle shrieking and falling as its fur stiffened into icicles. Ironically it was the one the Domilii had forced to stay when it had considered running out of the battle earlier.
Jeremiah smiled as he considered the battle below him, stroking his beard, even as he circled on his dragon like wings. Picking a spot he began to mutter and gesture, weaving the words of the spell.
"Oh dears gods, no!" Kaelin's eyes widened and span on the pillar top, throwing herself off and thumping her wings with the effort of gaining height. The white werewolves twitched their noses at her retreat, confused and wondering what they were supposed to be doing now. Their leader was down and not down at the same time, only now there was something going on with the dragon that the spell was supposed to be focused on. Unsure as to whether or not they had succeeded in their efforts, they waited, wondering which one was going to make the move to become pack leader first.
Reality buckled between the pillars that were at the ten and eleven positions if the circle was a clock face seen from above so slightly north east of were Ulrich was fighting and flailing, for his life. The moaning came first and then the shadows writhed up off the floor, lanky bodies and spindly fingers groping blindly as their milky white eyes stared out of distorted heads. Again they were deadset in the middle of the uncanny valley and the sound of them made Kaelin falter in the air as she clapped her hands over her ears to try and block out the noise. She felt sick, she couldn't catch her breath properly and cold sweat slicked down her fur and hair. Somehow, somehow the white werewolves were able to look upon these crawling horrors and not go numb with terror. Instead they lifted their voices and howled, long, drawn out calls to the pack that wavered up and down the musical range. It would have been beautiful, except that it was calling for more of their kind to come to the feast. It would have been dangerous, except that no one answered that call. They howled again but again, silence was the only reply even as the shadow things Jeremiah had summoned unravelled and sank back into whatever hell they crawled out of. However, their appearance had done some good, even if not on the target Jeremiah had originally intended. The half pack of werewolf Mutants Peter and Marmaduke were facing down flinched and took a step back, their attention distracted by the writhing things even as the shadow beasts faded out of existence. Peter tried to take advantage of that flinch, biting at the nearest one but his mandibles clicked together as it slapped him back. He whistled in annoyance, his compound eyes whirling.
He wasn't the only one struggling.
"Just what is it going to take to kill these things?" Ulrich demanded as an Abomination once again avoided his every strike and blow.
"Too damn much," Kaelin replied as she swooped low, trying to break up the pack by feinting at them.
Sabal spat an Ash Elf curse that was somehow elegant for all the bile and venom with which it was spat. His gaze, irises whirling with pulsing colours, didn't seem to be doing anything to the werewolf Abominations and the blood was tickling from his shoulder down to his fingertips, the wound a ragged mass of torn flesh. He only just managed to duck out of the way of the clashing fangs that came for his face. He shivered as he straightened, which was not a good sign. If shock and blood loss were setting in, he didn't have long before he went down.
Nanny Tatters' body bucked and jerked, trying to dislodge Tikrumpdel off of her back but he was proving to be a sticky burden and he wasn't coming off. Pounding the air with her wings, the Domilii managed a half rear but Tikrumpdel dug his claws in and clung on, even taking a step or two forwards towards the base of her neck, shifting his weight and therefore moving the centre of gravity closer to her front legs, forcing her back down.
Nanny Tatters' face snarled. It appeared that the old theory of mind following form was true. Though the Domilii had complete and utter control of Nanny Tatters' body, wearing it like a suit made out of flesh he was paying a price, the veneer of civilisation, the mask of the refined gentleman splitting and peeling back to reveal the raw brutality of his true nature. He forced Nanny Tatters' body to heave again, fighting to shift Tikrumpdel's weight off her/his back. Tikrumpdel reared up as well, wings thrashing to lift him. A grin that was not her own twisted Nanny Tatters' lip as the weight lessen and the Domilii prepared for the final effort to dislodge his unwanted passenger and then Tikrumpdel slammed down, the biggest galumph in the history of galumphs smashing the breath from Nanny Tatters' lung and driving her to the ground, joints cracking as the Domilii tried to resist the weight.
Coughing, winded, single eye wide with the shock of being hurt after so many years of being invulnerable, the Domilii managed to brace one arm under the Crone Dragon's body, giving himself enough space to drag breath after punishing breath into Nanny Tatters' abused lungs. As Marmaduke missed the werewolf Mutant before him yet again, the Domilii tipped back Nanny Tatters' head and screamed the words of a spell.
Kaelin ducked and twisted in the air as the runic circle flared to life, not on the ground but hovering in midair, the wheels of sickly light grinding against each other as the stench of ozone washed across the battlefield. With the sound of rotten leather tearing the airborne runic circle collapsed like a spider's web folding in on itself, like a bloodline gone corrupt and stale. What dived through that gash in the flesh of reality spread bat like wings that stretched twelve feet across, each.
"Oh double shite!" Estella breathed as Thorian lowered his great sword a moment, mouth agape and Jeremiah drifted aimlessly, wings locked in a glide as he stared at the unravelling spell, the last of the winged werewolves that were coming through yelping and snarling as it lost a toe as the rent in what was real clipped shut behind it.
"Stuff this," Estella muttered to herself. Seeing as Thorian and Valodrael had pretty much cleared the threat attacking from the East and Ulrich and his companions finally seemed to be gaining he upper hand over the last of the Abominations so she focused on the werewolf Mutants still hammering at Peter and Marmaduke. Though Peter was doing a lot of his shrill whistling screaming, it did appear to be all ire rather than pain. Marmaduke, on the other hand, was definitely battered, sparks fizzing and crackling within his chest.
Estella changed her stance and took her time building up her power, hands carving slower but more graceful arches, weaving together the shape of a rune of Kronzyn, held suspended within the circle of power. Her talismans settled, their flight more sure, less frantic, their song smoother, finding the harmony in the darkness.
The Mutants yelled twisted, turned! Teeth clashed, claws struck, hackles stood up straight like a pack of cats. The sound however, was the bedlam of a dog fight, a dog fight in a meat packing factory. Heavy limbs churned the forest floor, thick necks strained, the thuds of barrel chests smacking into each other echoed across the clearing.
Peter stepped and in the case of a giant centipede that was a lot of step, stepped back from the battle, breath whistling through multiple breathing pores, antennae drooping, mouth parts chattering with both anger and more heavily, fatigue. These Mutants seemed to be a different breed to the ones they had faced in the Capital City of the Dwergs, much tougher and more wily, able to avoid his bites and slams. Under his hardened shell, Peter was feeling beat for the first time since Ulrich had tamed him in the Underworld. Part of him was tempted to run but he wasn't even sure he'd make it that far before he ran out of energy. a strange ripple travelled his length. Peter the centipede was running out of strength.
Tikrumpdel on the other hand was feeling just fine as he galumphed slightly higher up Nanny Tatters' back, the Domilii wheezing and grunting under his weight, malformed muscle tissue straining and bulging as more and more webs of whatever it was that now formed it grew and grew again, making her hide rippled in ways that made the stomach roll and the throat ache to watch.
Tikrumpdel snorted and started grunting and muttering, deliberately bouncing up and down on the spot to keep the Domilii distracted from the spell he was mumbling. The Domilii hissed and then let loose a gasping cry as a vertebra shifted out of alignment to its fellows.
Tikrumpdel burped the last words to the spell and the air groaned as Nanny Tatters was flattened to the forest floor, Tikrumpdel's expanding bulk shouldering the wind aside as he doubled in size. He was suddenly the size of a farmer's prized bull at the shoulder and must have been even heavier. He also had dentistry that no bull had ever had.
The Domilii screamed with Nanny Tatters' voice as Tikrumpdel's fangs sank into her shoulder and worried back and forth. The noise from her body was not however, the ripping of flesh but rather the sound of something more vegetable, like the sounds of tree branches being torn off in a monstrous gale. When Tikrumpdel yanked back, lifting meat from bone and skin from flesh, she did not bleed; she leaked something that looked like liquid resin and stank like corruption.
Tikrumpdel turned his head and spat, ignoring the boneless hands of her dreadlocks that tried to slap him, flinching away from the exposed muscle of the deep wound he'd inflicted as it squirmed like a nest full of maggots.
"What the hell are you?" Tikrumpdel spat again, shuddering at the taste lingering on his tongue.
"I AM A GOD!" the Domilii roared, eye blazing with dark fire.
Jolted by that sound both Quenril and Sabal missed their strikes, the only saving grace being that so did their foes, the sound knifing through their ears and overwhelming nervous systems as it shook internal organs.
As the shock wave died away, Jeremiah dived out of the sky, stumbling and skidding to a very undignified stop behind the ragged battle line of Estella, Thorian and his own Undead Ash Elf puppet.
"Shoot them!" he commanded it, pointing into the sky, "Shoot them!"
It gazed at him, savagely carved nose accentuating its blank expression, then turned and raised its hand bow. The bolt whistled wide of the mark.
"You idiot!" Jeremiah barked, smacking the Ash Elf over the back of the head, causing it to stumble forward. At a lose of how else to combat the air borne menace, he spread his fingers wide, muttering the prayer to his darksome god to unshrink Tikrumpdel and crush Nanny Tatters' mortal remains beneath him.
There was a thunder clap of air and Jeremiah smiled, right up to when he opened his eyes. He frown as he tried to understand why Thorian seemed to be bigger than he used to be, first wondering if his god had grown Thorian as a joke on his most loyal and trustworthy servant. He frowned deeper, noticing that everything seemed to be in proportion with Thorian and not with... He tripped on the folds of his dragon hide robes that were now stunningly too big for him. Jeremiah's roar of anger and disbelief echoed round the clearing as he fought the robes that had been perfect for his man sized frame but now that he was the size of a dwarf... Jeremiah's howl of indignation challenged Nanny Tatters' bellows.
Distracted by the yelling little man thing, one of the werewolf Mutants took Marmaduke's blow high on its shoulder. It stumbled and grunted under the blow, its hide bruising but its constitution too tough to take the damage that Marmaduke was dishing out.
Thorian sniffed and slammed his sword point down into the turf, leaving it standing on its own as his rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles. The white werewolf on top of the pillar rolled its eyes and turned away, leaving the petty green thing to do what it wanted. Turned out that was a mistake.
With a deep throated, building roar, Thorian slammed into the pillar and put all his shoulder and weight behind it. For a second it held and then, almost imperceptibly the pillar began to tilt. Thorian braced his feet and kept pushing, muscles along his arms bulging, chest heaving, veins standing out up his neck. The stone creaked, the turf around its base lifted, the werewolf, snowy white and gleaming looked back over its shoulder with a frown.
Thorian lifted one foot, the other taking the whole of the strain, putting his entire weight into the pillar, effort cording through him, sweat standing out on his brow and running down his back. The stone shifted, grinding, the turf tore, the werewolf yelped... and gravity took over, the pillar falling faster and faster, thundering down to the grass, the boom of its landing almost drowning out the wild howl of the white werewolf. It windmilled its arms as it tried to balance on the top of the pillar, then, as the tipping point was reached, it threw itself forward into a dive roll, coming to its feet with a twist so that it could snarl at Thorian. Thorian didn't say a word, just reached out and seized the hilt of his sword and yanking it from the turf, the blade singing as it came free. The white werewolf laid its ears back and rippled its lip.
Above them Kaelin span in the air, wings flicking half beats, almost closed to give her just the wing tips, speed her only ally as the flock... pack... whatever of bat winged werewolves hammered after her, their wing limbs making a chorus of tortured sounding wind. She dived, they followed, she rolled and pulled up, fighting to climb to the moon, they followed. She closed her eyes and rolled backwards closed her wings fully and dropped like a stone. The air clawed at her, pulling tears from her eyes even with them nearly squinted shut, roaring in her ears. Twisting her wing tips out she pulled up level and inverted, rolled left, inverted again and pulled up into another climb, hearing the yip and snarl behind her that said they were still on her tail though the distance was finally opening up. She reached the top of what she could gain in a straight up climb, levelled and slip streamed to the right, curving and dropping into a second inversion, turning left, turning right, rolling up into a full loop, crossing underneath her pursuers, inverting to the left, climbing only to instantly drop again in a stomach kicking hump back manoeuvre, entering a climb to the left that inverted to the right. Behind her the snarling turned vicious, the pursuit breaking up as the fragile bound of shared prey was tested as her wild flying snared them up, the front fliers crossing paths with the trailers as they tried to keep on her tail and maybe cross her loop. There were yelps and growls and the sound of meat hitting meat as they turned on each other mid flight but she didn't dare look back. She knew that there would still be a few on her tail, those that would avoid the collision and knew that they now had a better chance of bringing her down themselves.
Valodrael felt no such concerns. He might not be able to use the Chill of the Void without risk to Tikrumpdel but Nanny Tatters was a much closer target, much bigger and now he didn't have the werewolves bothering Estella.
Valodrael's roar was many voices howling as one, pain, rage, fear, despair, all there, all layered and tangled round each other in a terrible chorus that was the dying shriek of an entire Continent that had burned for one man's greed.
The Domilii screamed as Valodrael's still expanding teeth sank into the other shoulder and ripped back and forth even, shredding the soft hide and the squirming muscles beneath. Tikrumpdel flinched back from the younger dragon's fury as Valodrael ripped fleshy dreadlocks free, smashed Nanny Tatters jaw hinge, broke her wrist and plunged the lengthening, glowing length of the fore-claw of his left hand into her side and seared open a rift the whole length of her. Tikrumpdel did not understand the language Valodrael was screaming but it did not take a genius to guess the content as the galaxies rippled and burned across Valodrael's hide. Kaelin had once screamed her hate of her grandfather; Valodrael's hatred was something unholy that made the night tremble with its intensity. He wasn't going to kill Nanny Tatters, he was going to rip her to pieces, one shred at a time, he was going to break her bones and tear her flesh and leave her inner most organs intact so that she would take hours, maybe even days to die and he'd enjoy every second of watching the Domilii trapped within that breaking flesh, finally feeling a measure of what Valodrael had experienced as the God Machine had flailed his soul from his body. He didn't want the Domilii destroyed, he wanted him to BURN, burn for all eternity and never be able to escape it. And he would enjoy watching the Domilii suffer every damn minute of it. Even as Valodrael snagged Nanny Tatters battering wing with his teeth, snapped a finger bone and ripped a great flap of the matted matter free he was grinning wide at every shriek the Domilii uttered.
Peter charged again, bulk rippling, not trying to bite this time but instead shouldering werewolf Mutants off their feet, bullying them over, trampling and tangling them in his mass of pointed feet. They snarled and scrambled over, teeth snapping and lips rippling but Peter was already smashing into another, knocking them flying.
Tikrumpdel didn't bother trying to distract the Domilii from the spell he started muttering this time, seeing that the Domilli was more than distracted by the mauling that Valodrael was giving Nanny Tatters' body. The young dragon had lost any attention for anything but utterly wrecking his foe. Tikrumpdel could understand that, he had felt much the same, once upon a time, for the upstarts that had murdered Gaudis, before time and self abuse had numbed the pain and made him accept that sometimes vengeance was beyond even him. Now he spoke carefully the words of the spell to cancel the shrink spell that had been cast on him.
Valodrael stumbled back, shaking his head, ear fines ringing with the thunder that echoed off the mountains. The Domilii's scream turned thin and high as Nanny Tatters' ribs cracked and deformed under Tikrumpdel's sudden weight. He pushed right through being the size of a hippopotamus and into being the size of one of the white whales that haunted the icy seas of the North, his weight capping out in the ton range and it was all baring down on Nanny Tatters' lower ribs, shifting her spine and constricting her lungs. The Domilli screamed again and spat frothy blood as broken ribs tore lung tissue.
Ulrich laughed and struck out at the werewolf Abominations that had survived the pack's attempt to destroy itself. He should have kept his mouth shut until he had finished the job, the Abomination he targetted not only ducking his blow but also Weatherall's flow up blow. It sniggered back at Ulrich, ears standing tall as it performed a very rude gesture with a claw.
"I beg your pardon!" Ulrich exclaimed. Grinning it lead the charge against Ulrich and the Ash Elves, claws raised. However, what was good for the goose was evidently good for the gander, as Ulrich, Quenril and Tasmar ducked and wove through the fight, every clawed hand missing, every clashing set of jaws coming up short.
"Looks like you could have done with three arms rather than three legs, "Ulrich cat called.
The Abominations snarled and rounded on him.
"Oh, aren't you learning yet?" Ulrich grinned, "Or do you want even more members of your pack to die? When are you going to realise that we are too expansive for you?"
Apparently he was talking in words too big for the werewolf Abominations to fully understand as they just snarled more and circled, trying to find a weak point, somewhere, someone who would break the herd's ranks so they could get in passed the herd's metal claws.
If the Abominations weren't taking the hint then the Mutants left on the field were seriously considering it, what was left of them bunching up together, fangs turned outwards as they glared at the King's Special and their allies, the noise of the battling dragons ringing in their ears. The prey was not what they had expected, was not the tender flesh they had been planning to chew on and the sharp scent of confusion filled their noses.
The white werewolves snarled and spat as well as the smells of blood and meat and the din of battle over rode the orders they had been given and they dived off the pillars, claws gouging up the leaf litter as they raced towards the strays of this enemy pack.
Estella screamed, high and thin, as she saw them coming, though her expression was more calculating than terrified, as if she was considering how best to grab someone's attention when they were hyper-focused on the foe before them and it turned out that she had picked the correct method.
Valodrael slewed round from giving Nanny Tatters yet another mauling to throw himself in the path of the white werewolves, standing between them and Estella, wings up, legs braced, a roar sheering through the night.
The white werewolves who had been knocked off his pillar by dint of Thorian knocking his pillar over leapt, teeth bared, claws out, a howling cry echoing in the woods. Thorian didn't flinch, his sword raised high and then crashing down, splitting the werewolf from stem to stern. He half turned as the pieces smacked down in the dirt.
"Stupid Doggy," Thorian noted and then shook some of the mess off his blade.
Free of Valodrael's attention, Nanny Tatters' body gave a huge heave as the Domilli let lose a desperate yell. Bones crunched, writhing tissue squasmed, split hide shredded further but the Domilii was back on Nanny Tatters' feet and then rolled suddenly side ways, spilling Tikrumpdel off, making the forest shudder. Birds flew squawking from the trees, another stone pillar tumbled sideways, unseen in the dark the crack of falling timber echoed through the night.
"You dared to strike me!?!" the Domilii's voice was fury and promised pain. A claw came up, aimed for Tikrumpdel's many chins. Kaelin dived, grabbed one of the wriggling, grasping hands that had once been one of Nanny Tatters' fleshy dreadlocks and pumped her wings. The Domilii yelled as the fleshy appendage snapped. He turned Nanny Tatters' head intending to bite Kaelin from the sky and she slapped him with the sticky end. He roared with wounded pride.
"Someone needs a lesson in humility," Tasnar muttered as he ducked another blow, sword only just keeping the Abominations at bay, struggling to make up for his new blind side, where blood and shreds of his ruined face had covered his eye, "Or to at least quit this battle with grace."
"Actually would be better if we could be done with him now," Ulrich called as he tried to guide Weatherall into actually hitting something for a change, "If he escapes then we'll never know when he's going to come back for a second go. His sort are always more dangerous if you give them time to rally their resources."
"Good point," Tasnar gasped as he ducked another blow.
Estella took a deep breath, trying to find her balance as she turned her hands, pulling on the water she felt in the ground below her, pulling on the love her talismans gave her, even Valodrael's angry, savage shape giving her security, letting her know that he would guard her back while she did what she could try.
The shimmer glowing paths built around her as she wove power and will, movement and intent into a single cohesive form before unleashing it at the back of the Domilii's head.
Nanny Tatters' stumbled, snorted, shook her/his head and gathered the strength for another attack.
"Oh for pity's sake!" Estella snapped as her hands stung.
Lacking any further instructions Jeremiah's undead Ash Elf, having slowly worked its way though recocking and reloading its hand bow, took another shot at the winged werewolves circling above. A winged werewolf twitched an ear as something buzzed passed on its right but it paid it no mind. Lacking any frustration thought patterns the Undead puppet returned to trying to, ever so slowly, recock its weapon again.
Above the winged ones circled after Kaelin again.
"Frack this for a life," she muttered, pushing for height again. They clamoured after her, snarling and spitting. She reached the top and banked left into a turning drop and inversion, going so fast she could barely breath as she corkscrewed through the air, pulling up into another turning bank. They thundered after her, staying on her tail as she looped over and inverted to the left. Blood thundered in her ears as her pinions battered the air, trying for more speed as she twisted and turned, the wind roaring over her wings, no time to grab a breath.
It seemed the werewolves on the ground were finally beginning to realise that they had made a mistake, giving ground as Quenril and Marmaduke drove them back, swing after swing, blow after blow. Marmaduke still made odd, grinding groaning noises in his chest but the warrior of metal seemed to be rallying, his blows more smooth and sure, almost as if he was healing.
Valodrael drew a breath that swelled out his chest, making the constellations of dying stars dance and flare across his hide. The air screamed as it contracted like a fist, the cold punching through reality, frost crackling into existence and snow falling as water froze out of the air.
It seemed that the Domilii had some idea of how Nanny Tatters' had died because he threw up the damaged wing heartbeats before the wave of cold struck. He scram, oh how he screamed, high, reedy, agonised as the matted vegetable matter that made up his wing froze and burst at the cellular level, fractures and cracks of blue white ice spider webbing across the surface and wrapping around the arm bones and fingers of the wing as the bulging veins solidified and resisted the pumping of whatever it now was inside Nanny Tatters' chest that may have once been a heart. He screamed but he kept screaming, battered, rent, leaking in a dozen places as lumps and chunks of frozen wing snapped free and thudded and thumped to the forest floor, but still screaming, still alive, if possessing an undead Crone Dragon counted as being alive.
Valodrael's breath ran out and he stood, panting and gasping, glaring, supernova eyes blowtorch hot, a snarl rising in his throat as the Domilii jerked Nanny Tatters' frozen wing, sheering it off, the twice dead tissue shattering on the forest floor. The two dragons faced off, ignoring Tikrumpdel's efforts to roll back upright, history curdling and rotting between them, centuries of pain and hate and destruction, spinning down to meet at this point.
"It's Thorian Time!" the orc cross breed roared, launching himself up, his sword glowing with a power unnamed and unknown as he held it over his head with both hands.
The Domilii flinched back, confused as to how this little thing dared attack HIM, Nanny's Tatters' mouth opening in a warning roar, the stump of the destroyed limb twitching as if it would swot Thorian out of the air... only said limb was no longer there to swot with.
The Domilii screamed again as Thorian's sword sank deep, ripping and splitting. He straightened Nanny Tatters' battered hulk and spat a stream of words at the small green bug that caused him such pain.
Thorian... Thorian he said, "Baaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!"
Tikrumpdel, still being smaller than Nanny Tatters, could see underneath her and what he saw was a sheep with moss green wool battering its head against Nanny Tatters' rear leg, bahing all the while and trying to glare out of a sheep's letter box pupiled eyes.
Tikrumpdel tried, he really did try to be fair to him, but it was no good. His flame trickled and popped into the air, billowing more smoke than anything of destructive force as he burst out laughing. He wobbled, shook, shivered like a sackful of jelly as his laughter bubbled and rang in a discordant counter point to the fury and dim of battle. He threw a wing over his face, took several deep breaths, just about had control again and then looked... again.
His howls of laughter echoed and re-echoed as the green sheep began to wander over the battle field, shaking its head slightly as if it had a headache.
Estella frowned, fitting a stone into the cradle of her sling, staring up into the sky and letting fly. She did miss Kaelin. Unfortunately at the speed the fliers were going she also missed every other one in the air. She frowned and sorted out another stone.
Unfortunately, she was not the only one distracted by Tikrumpdel's merriment as the Werewolf Mutants began to rally, to become bold again, distracted from their fear or maybe infuriated by the Lava Dragon's bellows of glee.
Still bleeding and damaged, Tasnar ducked the blow from an Abomination, scored a cut across its third leg and tried to grab its wrist as it flinched back but his ungloved hand missed the catch and Ulrich had to over reach to protect him from a follow up strike that very nearly had him. Thrown off balance by his riders movements Weatherall also failed to strike, his heavy claw just thudding in the dirt.
"Oh this is ridiculous," Ulrich muttered.
A long, drawn out scream of "Sssssssssssssshhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiittttttteeeeeeeeeee!" flew passed his head.
Kaelin's face was pulled tight, not in a snarl of anger but in a grimace of pain. Pain and just the tiniest dash of fear. If she failed a turn at these speeds it was gong to more than hurt, it was going to break internal things and possibly a few external things as well. It was only by clamping her jaws shut she was able to focus on breathing and wing beats, fighting to keep steady. She dived, steep, wind roaring in her ears, banked right, then left, inverted climbed for height, arrowed down again, banked left and up, inverting as she did so. Damn it, they were still on her tail and they appeared to be getting better. Far from running out of speed or becoming tangled in each other's flight paths again they seemed to be learning in real time how to stay with her, how to not give her any quarter. Double damn it, but they were pushing her, her muscles were only going out of sheer force of habit and the knowledge of what would happen if she stopped. It was probably only the hours of flying she'd done in the last few days that were giving her the chance to keep one step ahead of the ravening claws.
She pulled into a tight left hand bank and angled it ever so slightly, turning the bank into a climbing spiral, wings shredding the air. Gasping for breath, she pulled as tightly as possible, climbing rapidly, hammering her pinions, the pack snarling after her. It was a wall of death reaching up into the night sky, then, quite deliberately she fouled her own wing, bunching it up, almost closing it. The focus of the downward snap turn to her left almost, almost wrenched her bones out of alignment but it was not as uncontrolled as it looked. Instead of tumbling her through the air, she was suddenly diving through the centre of the upward spiral, threading the eye of the needle, striking out left and right as she plummeted. She heard squeals, growls, snarls behind her but she didn't dare stop to look, relying on the smell of blood to tell her that she had been successful in hitting some of them. Only, as she pulled up she didn't see any spiralling to the ground, their wings trimmed and broken. She clenched her fangs and pushed on.
Below her Jeremiah opened and shut his mouth at the sight of his Dragon Scale Robes, hanging loose and baggy round his much diminished frame. It was insulting, it was derogatory, it was... it was... infuriating! His god was laughing at him, laughing at his most high priest and his most high priest, Jeremiah, couldn't do a damn thing about it. He couldn't fight his god, the One True God could not be argued with or defied but how could he do this to Jeremiah? How could he treat Jeremiah this way when Jeremiah had been nothing but loyal? When Jeremiah had preached his word and spread his will and served him faithfully. How could he?
Jeremiah drew himself up to his full height and snarled the words of the prayer. He could not argue with the Will of his god but he could drive the terror of the One True God into the minds of these pathetic, worthless savages.
An Abomination hesitated from the strike it was about to launch at Ulrich, stepping back as a piece of one of the fallen twitched. Abomination and Mutant alike stepped back ; even Peter the Giant Centipede was distracted, pausing, waving his antennae, hissing a question his mind lacked the words to frame as the bodies of the dead trembled and twitched, rolling across the ground, writhing and rippling.
"What the dickens?" Ulrich's eyes were wide.
With a liquid sounding rip the carcass of the nearest dead turned inside out, bones shredding and shedding their fleshy cover, the hard lengths of calcium frames tearing their way free of the meat that had hung from them. Whistling like missiles the skeletons of all the dead, free of their wet coverings shot through the air, clicking together in new configurations, snapping together to form pillars and joints of bone, cracking and snapping as they jostled to find their place in the two new forms that were being built before the eyes of the King's Special.
The Abominations stumbled back, their slick hides bulging where hackles should have risen. Others were not so restrained with their expressions of their opinions of Jeremiah's new toys. As the bone golems straightened up to their full twelve feet of height Estella doubled over, shoulders shaking, teeth chattering, throat rasping as she heaved and heaved again. The smell of ruptured bodies rose from the leaf litter and small things that wiggled and crawled began rising, brought to the surface by the smell. Estella heaved again. The Abominations whimpered.
"Gaze upon the glory of the One True God!" Jeremiah bellowed, his diminished frame shaking with the force of his roar.
Quenril sniffed as he spared a glance in that direction.
"If you call that glory," he noted, "I'd hate to see horror."
Thorian the sheep bleated in apparent agreement and shook the leg that corresponded to his injured wrist and as he did so the bones cracked as they realigned, grinding together for a moment and then popping back into lace, ligaments sliding into their true positions as knicks and tears in them smoothed out and became whole. His bleat sounded much happier.
"Glad someone's happy," Ulrich raised an eyebrow as Marmaduke tried and once again failed to land a decent hit on the Mutants in front of him.
"Just why won't these things die?" Ulrich continued, "Or failing that just run away. Go on, go! Run away! Shoe! Shoe!"
"Sandal, boot, flip-flop," Valodrael grinned as he looked from white werewolves to the quivering bulk of Nanny Tatters, deciding which one he was going to rip a lump out of next.
Jeremiah's Undead Puppet fired another bolt at the winged werewolves again and this time it hit, at least partially, piercing a wing and passing straight through, leaving a hole that whistled with every beat. The winged ones turned, distracted, the flock circling and milling around as they tried to locate what was making the noise that was suddenly in their midst.
Below, Tasnar struck out but failed to hit the Abomination before him. It snarled and struck back, almost hitting Tasnar but suddenly Sabal was there, knocking aside its blow, meeting its eye. It froze, captured by the shifting kaleidoscope of Sabal's gaze. Sabal didn't blink, holding it with his stare alone, letting the power he'd been trying to suppress rise to the fore, allowing it to begin to take, to steal, to devour. The Abomination whimpered, beginning to shrink down on itself.
The white werewolves didn't see their pack mate in trouble, they didn't even see the horror of the process that had created them, all they saw was a couple of huge heaps of bones that glistened with the marrow still trapped within them. In short, they saw two heaps of walking dinner and their brains completely shut down. They slammed into one, claw grabbing, teeth snapping, trying to yank thigh bones and arm bones free, gnawing and growling. The bone golem ponderously lifted a foot and took a slow step backwards, its foot crushing an area the size of a table top. The thump echoed and re-echoed around the clearing.
The Mutants drew back even more, eyes wide, mouths slightly open, quiet whimpers beginning to rise from some of them. This was beyond them, this wasn't what they had signed up for. Greely was dead but some how not dead all at the same time, the dragon who they had been meant to be defending was some how dead and not dead all at the same time because something of Greely had moved into her as he'd died. Several of them snorted, trying to puzzle it out, heads aching with the effort. The chain of command was breaking down, the pack leader was down and the second in command wasn't taking charge. They backed up some more.
Kaelin came down to rest in the top of a tree. She was soaked with sweat, her chest ached and her breath came sharp and hard but at last the pack of winged ones were distracted, circling on someone other than her. She took another couple of breaths and straightened, unslinging Haggis. She blew and blew into his wind bag, inflating him fully.
The noise that burst forth shook the trees and echoed to the mountains and back, a haunting strain that was more ambient sound than music, a coiling of notes and hum that made the bones shudder, the scalp crawl and the bowels turn to water. The pack of winged ones burst apart, scattering all directions, yelping and yipping, each fleeing its fear unable to name the fear's source.
Distracted by the howling sound that could only just be called music by dint of a huge wedge of generosity the Abominations looked up, tracking the disorganised flight of the winged ones. Weatherall's massive claw crashed down, smashing one of them off its feet and rattling its brains.
"A Hit!" Ulrich beamed, "A Hit to me!"
Except that it was the crab that did the hitting and not you," Jeremiah pointed out.
"The strikes of the mount count towards the total of the rider," Ulrich corrected, "That is why lists are used in a joust, so that the mounts cannot confuse the tally of the riders."
"Oh I stand corrected," Jeremiah's tone was sarcastic as usual.
"That's alright old chum," Ulrich called as he struck out right and left, "It is the duty of civilised people to see to the education of others, wot!"
Jeremiah glowered.
At Ulrich's side Quenril struck out again, not hitting any of their foes but keeping them at bay.
"My Lord," he called, "I seem to remember an instrument you played when we were seeking egress from the Underworld. It had a marked effect upon the Lady Kaelin. Would it have a similar effect upon these beings?"
"By Geogre I think you're right," Ulrich eclaimed, "I should have thought of that ages back. See if you could keep these uncouth chaps out of my hair for a minute, would you old boy?"
"You heard Sir," Quenril called, "Give him space!"
"Like we haven't been trying that all this time," Sabal grunted and then stepped up his attacks, compensating for his wounded shoulder. Ulrich ignored his rudeness. After all, Sabal was bally injured and pain was known to make a chap short tempered. Besides he had the more important issue of finding that bally tin whistle in his pack.
Behind him the Domilii grunted in Nanny Tatters' throat, a nerve scouring creaking groaning echoing across the clearing as what appeared to be a branch burst from the wound where Nanny Tatters' wing had been rooted. With the noise of a glacier in pain it grew and split, forming the foundation of a new wing.
"You going some where?" Tikrumpdel asked, his merriment finally under control, "Shame. I have to say that the sheep trick was rather amusing."
Nanny Tatters' head swung towards him, the Domilii's snarl warping her face. Her mouth gapped and her breath rattled as she drew it in, Tikrumpdel caught in that time devouring stream. He bowed his head, eyes closing as it continued, his scales becoming darker and the black colour seeping down over his sides, a hot coal going cold. His hide began to deflate around his shoulders and haunch, his sides no longer so massive.
Nanny Tatters' shut her mouth, tongue working as if she was enjoying the taste of something, the Domilii's face over laying the Crone Dragon's stabilising into the human, a cruel smile twisting his lip.
"Say hello to death for me, old one," he sneered at the ancient Lava dragon.
Tikrumpdel lifted his head slowly, opened his eyes and... He sneezed, snorted and rubbed his snout with the back of a hand.
"Sorry, did you say something?" he asked. Nanny Tatters stepped back, the Domilii's shock stamped across her features.
A shrill shriek rang in their ears. Ulrich had found the whistle and wasn't even trying to play it, just blowing through it as hard as possible.
The Abominations reeled back, screaming, the one already down thanks to Weatherall's blow grabbing its head ad then rolling over, blood trickling from its ears, eyes glazing over as it perished.
"Bah!" Thorian the sheep cried out, but whether that was in encouragement or confusion it was hard to tell. Sheep seem to be confused most of the time any way.
The Mutants, also being close to the source of Ulrich's 'tune' also cried out and flinched away, shaking their heavy jawed heads, barking in pain.
Kaelin flinched, the blow stick falling from her lips as her ears tingled. She couldn't tell if it had affected the winged ones or not, as they had already been spiralling thanks to her music. She did not think that it was vanity if she considered her music to be of better quality than Ulrich's especially as it seemed to be having the opposite to intended effect on the white pack leaders. Instead of cowering, they seemed to be inflating, their fur standing up as stiff as needles, chests expanding as growls like saw blades echoed through the night.
Valodrael clashed his teeth at the Domilii, confident at the white werewolves were preoccupied by the bone golems. The Domilii must have expect the attack as he was already flinching away before Valodrael bit. The Crone Dragon body the Domilii was riding was riding twisted, trying to wiggle free of the pincer movement Tikrumpdel and Valodrael were completing between them, beating her wings impotently, lopsided, asymmetric, the wooden bones of her right wing still bare, unable to bare her weight into the sky. The Domilii whipped her head back and forth as he tried to calculate the way out of the trap.
"Karma, give that globe to Estella," Jeremiah commanded, swooping low, then pulling up to land on one of the pillars of stone, well enough away from Nanny Tatters but still in her line of sight.
"Well, this does seem to be something of an inconvenience," he called out, "I wonder - how are you enjoying your new home?"
"You maggot!" Nanny Tatters the Domilii spat, lunging forward, only to be slowed by Valodrael clamping on to her bare boned wing, "I am a GOD! You think I need this wretched husk? She is a tool, a thing, something that was useful for a while. That's all she's ever been. I could snap her like a twig with my bare will!"
"Talk is cheap," Tikrumpdel interrupted, "Doing is more expensive. You think you can exist without your puppet? Prove it, 'cause I reckon you can't. You Sir, are nothing but an over stuffed blow bag with a jumbo size opinion of himself."
"How dare you?" Nanny Tatters the Domilii rounded on the old Lava Dragon, "You dare question ME? You are nothing! You are dirt! Your mate died because she was ashamed to be rutted by filth such as you! Every time you crawl upon her she begged to die rather than submit to your touch one more time! You disgusted her! You made her vomit! She was just too afraid to admit it. She begged me to release her from the torment you visited upon her. Your very presence defiled her. She wanted to be dead rather than bare you one more clutch of egg and I, being a merciful god, granted her wish. Your mate died because she allowed them to kill her. She wanted to be dead and I granted her wish, her wish to be free of you!"
Tikrumpdel's roar was more force than sound, the very air rippling away from him as he screamed and the Domilii... the Domilii laughed at him, laughed at his pain. Tikrumpdel roared again, a wall of sound so vast it knocked the bone golems off their strike and caused Peter to twist round and stare with his big, bug eyes.
The Abominations took advantage of everyone's distraction, the last pair pouncing on Tasnar. He screamed as he went down, muscle tearing under claws, the red beading and running over leaf litter. Sabal lunged.
One of the Abominations reared back, its ribs cut to the bone. The other snaled nd howled as Sabal grabbed it by the ears and twisted until it jerked its head up, meeting his gaze. As Quenril kept the other at bay Sabal locked stares with the one before him, hands wrenching its ears, forcing it to not look away. It snarled and brought its claws up to rake the bowels from its prey, only to falter, a chill spreading through its muscles. Sabal's eyes were entrancing, deep, deep pools that the Abomination could fall into, fall forever into those mesmerising depths. Too late it realised the trap but by then it was far, far too late.
Sabal straightened and grinned at the last Abomination as he pushed its companion out of his way, new pale skin showing through the rents in his shirt over his shoulder. The Abomination he had just stared to death thudded into the turf and settled like an awkward statue, its every limb locked into place. Sabal stepped passed it, still wearing that death's head grin that would have done Valodrael proud. Like some sort of mad creature the last Abomination didn't take the hint that now would be a good chance to run away, instead snarling as it faced Sabal down.
On the other side of the battlefield Estella fitted the globe marked 'For insects' into her sling and started whirling it. The globe whistled through the air and smashed beautifully on the rump of one of the wings ones. It yelped and twisted in midair, the rest of the path flinching and turning away from it. One could almost see the trail of stink being left behind it as it flew, the winged pack pack having spotted Kaelin and set off in pursuit.
"Oh come on," Estella protested, her shoulders slumping. The winged one's very speed was keeping the shock of how it now smelt away from its nose, thought was half way amazing for those who had time to watch as the rest of the pack increased their number of rolls and inversions to stay out of the stink trail that it was leaving in the air behind it.
"Seems they have a little skunk in them as well," Estella observed. Despite the fact that it wasn't exactly what she's planned, it still work to a degree.
Kaelin threw herself out of her tree top when she realised that the pack of winged ones were thundering towards her. Once more she corkscrewed in a tight circle, climbing for height with each and every pump of her wings. And when the winged ones pulled into a straight up climb after her, she did the same, out pacing them at every moment, pushing until she gasped. All she needed was a little more...
She reached the top of her climb and winged over into a perfect, shrieking dive, her only just controlled plummet ramming up her speed until the wind made her eyes water and deafened her ears. Her stomach seemed to be trying to retreat all the way to her toes and she could barely breath but then she was among the swarm like a falcon among pigeons. She smacked into the first her claws meeting its head with her elbows locked and its neck gave way with a stomach turning crack. The second two were too close together to evade her plummeting speed and her claws first raked, the red fountaining into the night air, and then caught and twisted.
The winged werewolf trailing at the back due to its now rotten miasma flinched and twisted aside as its pack mates plummeted passed, one screaming with a broken wing until the ground broke its fall and snapped its remaining bones at the same time.
Kaelin pulled up and levelled out blasting over the tree tops, pine needles raked into the air behind her as the wind of her passage boomed across the forest. She didn't even try to slow her speed for several minutes until she was able to finally dare to bank sideways and curve back round, trying to spot the blue glow of Nanny Tatters' form in the dark. She tilted her wings more, trying to quiet the rush of air enough that she could hear the din of battle. In that effort, she was aided by the werewolves' pigheaded, idiotic stubbornness. A natural predator would have recognised that the pack had taken loses they could not sustain, a natural predator would have turned tail and run. The Abomination reared back and roared at Sabal, the threat challenge of a human, bound and stupidly determined to fight to the death for nothing but sheer brainless fanaticism.
"I guess that this is what Kaelin meant by werewolves being the very worse of both species," Ulrich noted as Weatherall stamped his pointed legs in the leaf litter as he turned, wiggling his eyes stalks, "Though that says nothing complimentary about the human race."
"Bah!" Thorian the sheep bleated but whether that was in suport of Ulrich's statement it was hard to say.
The white werewolves hurled themselves at the bone golems, crashing into their tree trunk legs like surf upon the shore, their claw raking and gouging but the golems barely rocked, bone faces made up of many skulls turned down to gaze at the white tide of rage wasting their strength against their legs. A bolt whistled and smacked into the leg of one of the bone golems but it bounced off harmlessly, missing the white werewolves even on the rebound. Jeremiah's Ash Elf puppet walked forward before lowering its hand bow to recock it one more time, its face still devoid of any sign of frustration or anger.
Ulrich raised his tin whistle and blew again. The Mutants retreated some more, knocking into one another as they whimpered and yelped, some falling to the floor to paw at their heads, their ears ringing. Unfortunately the second time seemed to work less effectively than the first time as they were the only ones affect, if anything the sole surviving Abomination seemed to be even more enraged than ever, flinging itself forward with a roar. It leapt at Ulrich, claws outstretched... Only to jerk to a halt mid air. Weatherall had finally made the catch. He lifted the Abomination high in his massive claw, ignoring its howls, ignoring its kicking, ignoring the raking blows it was gouging over his arm and claw. The Abomination snarled and then gasped as Weatherall increased the pressure. It screamed, three legs kicking more wildly, claws more desperate then Weatherall squeezed some more.
The Abomination came apart in a burst of red with a final scream.
"Did you have too?" Estella asked, "That was disgusting." Her shot was off as it scorched through the air towards the last of the winged ones.
"Be not of faint heart," Jeremiah councilled, his voice falling into the booming tones of the trained public speaker, "But look upon the works of the one True God and know that he is with us. His gaze watches over us, his strong right arm protects us, we are always in his thoughts. He can make the frail of heart whole, he can make the weak arm strong. To those that stand against his way and defy the truth and justice of his Will he is holy and righteous punishment. He smites the wicked and plunges them into a fiery pit but to his worthy and righteous servants he is gentle and provides guardians forged from the bones of their enemies. So strike true in the name of the One True God Klu..."
"Don't say the name!" Thorian bellowed, his bones cracking and snapping as he stopped being a sheep and straightened back up. He scratched his ear and looked around, wondering where his sword managed to run off too. He was sure he had it to hand a moment ago. Where could it have run off to? He turned around and around again. It had to be somewhere around here. Ah there it was!
Paying no mind to the Bone Golem's Thorian stumped over to where his sword laid in the mud and picked it up, shaking leaf litter off of it before glancing round. The big boney fellers seemed to be in a bit of bother with the white doggos. The boney fellers were smashing the ground with their big nobbly fists but the white doggos were quick on their feet, biting and slashing as they nopped and dodged round the blows.
Thorian stretched and loosened up his neck, swung his sword a couple of ties to limber up and then ducked round the big boney boy's swings but for a different reason to the white doggos, using the motion to trap two of the white doggos between him and the boney boys.
"Oi, dog breath!" he shouted. One of them turned, eyes red with fry and both it and the one beside it squealed in pain as Thorian's sword trimmed their ears. They reeled and howled, clawed hands clapped to their heads, the red staining their white fur in its crimson hue.
"How you like them apples?" Thorian barked back.
"Delicious!" Valodrael grinned as he drew in a breath that swelled out his ribs.
Nanny Tatters the Domilii shot a terrified look over his/her shoulder and whipped the tail she had regrown when she devoured some of Tikrumpdel's life force round Valodrael's neck, trying to throttle him.
He grinned at the Domilii's efforts, the oily black substance that made him straining to hold the power he was metastasising within even as Nanny Tatters strangle hold slipped through his unnatural flesh, the loop of tail sinking through Valodrael's neck with the noise of a chain being dragged through silt.
Valodrael's eyes narrowed and he tilted his head slightly to check with a quick glance what he thought he saw beyond the bulk that the Domilii was possessing.
"Estella?" he grunted, struggling to hold the power in check, "Sink her?"
Estella frowned, wondering how he had known she'd give up on her sling and was calling up the power one more time, her talismans circling, helping her to channel the power. Then she grinned as she figured out what he was planning. She crouched, lowered her arms, clenched her fists as if ceasing heavy weights, widened her stance and heaved skyward.
Nanny Tatters the Domilii cried out as the water surged up from the water table, smacking him from below like a sudden geyser and in the same moment Valodrael unleashed the Chill of the Void, the icy cracks and bangs of flash freezing water ringing out across the clearing. Nanny Tatters the Domilii thrashed and wrenched, a back foot smashing free of the frozen prison.
"You think this will hold me?" the Domilii demanded, twisting, the ice squealing as it flexed.
"Long enough," Valodrael grinned.
"What?" the Domilii snapped and then his head turned the other way towards the volcanic bubbling noise.
The fury that was twisting Tikrumpdel's lip was incandescent, much like the massive, soggy, inflated barrel of his body. He was still sucking in breath after breath, smoke curling from mouth and nostril, eyes aflame. His hide creaked from the internal pressure, every scale backlight by flame, straining to hold together, the flesh showing white between them. He sucked in again, stoking the atomic fire within.
Nanny Tatters screamed with the Domilii's voice, bucking and twisting, ice splintering apart, shattering with a bang like thunder. The Domilii's screamed again, struggling within Nanny Tatters' flesh, even as her wing reformed from matted material and she reared into the hind quarter crouch with her wings up, the prequel to launching herself skywards.
It was poetry in slow motion.
Nanny Tatters lunged for the open skies, the roiling cloud above promising escape, legs just starting to uncoil when Tikrumpdel opened his maw and let the chains on the fire within loose.
The noise was like the end of the world, the detonation of an entire valley that was the mouth of a volcano all along, the light the dying throws of an ancient forest consumed by flames. It wrapped around Nanny Tatters for a moment, smothering her screams, whipping and sheeting in the air as she twisted, licking her wings turning them to ash. Then it wasn't swaddling Nanny Tatters any more, it was inside her, her ribs standing out in relief. The flames jetted from her mouth, streamed from her ears. Her single massive eye goggled in absolute agony for a moment and then it flashed away in a stink of steam.
The silence as Tikrumpdel clicked his teeth together and then panted rang and then what was left of Nanny Tatters crumpled. In truth about the only things left were her lower half, her arms and her blackened skull and even that had been burst open by the furnace that had consumed her. The rest was just so many blackened sticks made brittle by the heat. They crumbled as the more intact lower half toppled backwards.
Jeremiah's Undead Ash Elf puppet didn't even glance up as Nanny Tatters skull tumbled down and then it vanished, crushed below the mass of bone.
Jeremiah sighed but consoled himself that one had to admit that it was a worthy way to die the second time. Far better than becoming such a stinking mass that it liquefied when he lifted his Will from it. He straightened smiling as the skein of power trickled out from underneath the bulk of cooked bone.
The thing that rose from Nanny Tatters corpse was not human in either appearance or sound. It spiralled up, shrieking, screeching, twisting like a coil of smoke that was some how trapped in hell. Estella clapped her hands to her ears as it screamed, the animalistic sound of a bag of cats being slow roasted over a fire and even Kaelin winced on the wing.
It howled, the air around it groaning as it tried to hold the warped mad thing, then it pounced on the spilling stream of power.
"That's mine!" Jeremiah protested but it was too late, the shrieking screaming thin that was the Domilii either consumed the skein of power or infected it, the two lights blending and merging as the soul fragment rose into the air, spinning and twisting. Still screaming and babbling it suddenly exploded, only it didn't at the same time. The light snapped outward, pushing sound before it in an unfelt shock wave that silenced the battle field, the blue flames carving sigils in the air that flared and twisted for a moment before collapsing inward, leaving after images dancing across the retina as the soundless lightning strike snapped and jagged across the sky arching away towards the eastern horizon.
"Now that's entertainment," Valodrael rumbled into the shocked silence. He turned and inclined his head to the panting mass that was Tikrumpdel. Struggling to catch his breath, the older dragon gave a short nod back, wing membranes flushed bright as he sort to dump the last of the excess heat he had created within his guts. He groaned and blew a stream of smoke rings from his nostrils.
Jeremiah frowned, his eyebrows beetling, sensing something had changed, something within himself. There was an itch at the back of his mind, a sense that something was missing, the sigil of his god spinning within its twisted cage of antler flaring a slightly different shade and he thought he could hear his god's amusement in the back of his skull. He sniffed and banished the thought, after all he had more important things to concentrate on, like his reduced height. Having his robes pool on the ground around his ankles was really undignified and needed correcting. He drew himself up and began... His mouth hanged open, eyes wide with shock. The words to the spell! He couldn't remember the words to the shrink spell! His roar of fury echoed off the mountains as loud as a dragon.
One of the werewolf Mutants jerked its head round, snarling, the small, screaming human as easy target in the confusion of the Crone Dragon's demise. It lunged, charging towards its prey... And Marmaduke's blade found its neck, snagging the flesh with the point of his sword. The Mutant's momentum carried it forward but it slithered and crashed in the leaf litter, gasping and croaking as its heart galloped while its blood pressure dropped. Critical collapse was reached in under two minutes and it lay still while over head Kaelin and the last remaining winged one twisted and turned, the air ripping and booming as Kaelin chased it through a dizzying course of brake stops and snap turns that strained her pinions to the limit.
The last of the Mutants turned tail and bolted, yelping through the under growth, Peter nipping at their heels while Marmaduke slapped their rumps with the flat of his blade to speed them on their way. Ulrich was not so restrained, his elf made blade catching one on the turn and piercing its lung before it could get away.
"Well hit, my lord," Sabal congratulated as it gasped and bubbled its life out at Weatherall's feet, "Now please remind me, how many does it usually take to deliver a message?"
"Usually only one, why?" Ulrich answered with a question.
"Good," Sabal smiled. His handbow thumped. There was a crash from the dark as a werewolf Mutant fell, the bolt buried deep in its hide.
"Nice shot," Tikrumpdel commented then turned to Jeremiah.
"Do you mind if I damage your new toys?" he asked, "It is just I am not going to be able to target those white nuisances without catching at least one of your skeletons giants in the flame."
"Excuse me," Jeremiah put his hands on his hips, "I ruddy well do mind, I've already lost one servant this night, I don't want to lose more!"
The white werewolves had heard enough. Turning tail they bolted off towards the forest but that turned out to be a tactical error.
Tikrumpdel's flame slashed through the air one more time, lightning the trees with its lurid glow and the two white werewolves nearest to him, now exposed away from the cover of the Bone Golems' bulk fell as a pile of ash and charred bone. Tikrumpdel burped.
"That's better," he sighed, the flush on his wing membranes finally calming to something more normal. Even as he said it the white werewolf Thorian had just struck landed, in many places. Estella counted over there and over there and up there.
The last one hurtled on, diving into the blackness, its panic increasing as it heard something thundering after it, smashing through the trees with the sound of a torrent of water.
After a few moments Valodrael swaggered back into the clearing, licking his lips.
"We'll not have to worry about it rallying more of its kind," he reported, the silently screaming face bulging under his hide baring witness to his statement as Kaelin settled to the ground, the last of the winged ones a whimpering shape disappearing into the gloom of the horizons, leaving a trail of stink behind it.
"They were tough," Thorian noted, cleaning his blade and slotting it back into its scabbard.
"Do you think this is more of your grandfather's work?" Ulrich asked Kaelin, "Do you think they are all going to be like this from now on?"
"Gods of the wilds I hope not," Kaelin drooped muscles already aching, "I'm hoping that Domilii character co-oped the cream of the crop. He really wanted Nanny Tatters back on the board."
"Are you surprised?" Valodrael asked, "A self motivating tool is much easier to use than one you have to directly puppet. If Nanny Tatters had been resurrected he could have moved on to other schemes and left her to tidy up the loose end you represented. She already hated your existence, tormenting and torturing you would have kept her fed for decades."
"Well, we don't have to worry about her any more," Ulrich smiled as he cleaned his swords.
"Maybe not her," Valodrael's serial killer's grin faltered, "But we will need to beware her master. He will not forgive this."
"Oh old boy?" Jeremiah managed a smile as he hitched up his trousers, "Surely you just? We have just seen this Domilii destroyed in his own fire. He..."
"No!" Valodrael snapped then repeated more quietly, "No. He is not dead and he is not fleshless either. That was a possession spell like none other and I have no doubt he will feel the pain for a long while but dead? Not on your nelly. He's not dead, not yet."
He paced over and flicked what was left of Nanny Tatters with a claw.
"By ice, by fire, by an unknown path," he rumbled, "And I still have work to do before I face him one more time."
After a moment Estella stepped up and laid a hand against his hide. He turned his face to her and in the silence Quenril crumpled to the ground.
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