The Isle of Terror: Part 5

Given how little our firearms could do to the smaller flying monsters, we didn’t even bother shooting and met them in melee immediately. I charged into one of them, hoping my superhuman physical attributes would be enough to match it. They weren’t, as it turned out, and I quickly found myself on the back foot. Desperately parrying and weaving between the creature’s four arms, I found myself in desperate need of relief.

Help came in the form of one of the soldiers, who slashed across the enemy’s back while it was focused on me. This one strike didn’t achieve much, failing to even slow the enemy down, but its focus was not exclusively on me anymore, and I could start looking for an opportunity to counter.

In the other part of the room, the rest of the party surrounded the remaining adversary, which was swinging its four blades in a whirlwind of death. No one was willing to take a step into the grinder, but the beast was, for the moment, contained.

Standing between the two groups, Annabel was chanting, preparing some massive spell. Before she had a chance to turn the tide, however, a factor we had almost forgotten about reared its ugly head. The two remaining flying monsters started swooping down at her, hoping to disrupt her casting. Quickly, the sorceress changed her target. A cannon-like noise erupted, and a stream of high-speed air blades shredded the two flying enemies to pieces.

The noise distracted one of the soldiers briefly, allowing the creature he had been fighting to attack, decapitating him and breaking containment. It charged straight at Annabel, but Rhombus seized the opportunity to rush at it and stab it in the back. Electrocution didn’t stop its movements, as it apparently lacked a nervous system and was fully controlled by magic. It did, however, force it to waste a few seconds shaking Rhombus off, which allowed the rest of our allies to re-trap it. Additionally, with its muscles slightly cooked, the monster’s movements slowed down considerably, allowing my allies to make an occasional attack.

None of these events helped alleviate pressure on my side, and I didn’t have any time to call for help. The soldier who was assisting me was doing a decent enough job of not getting killed, evading the occasional attack directed at his way, but launched no assault of his own. I couldn’t blame him for not being eager to get torn to shreds, so I grit my teeth and bore the brunt of the attack myself.

I evaded a dual swing, blocked another attack, attempted to hit my enemy’s leg with my sword, but then noticed the fourth blade descend upon me. I parried with my warhammer while redirecting the sword swing and managed to sever one of the creature’s hands. Then I realized Annabel was chanting again. Since the other group was keeping the situation more or less under control on their side, the spell would be used to help me out. Breathing a sigh of relief, I evaded a few more sword swipes and, when it seemed appropriate, jumped aside.

Annabel launched another of her wind spells, tearing off another arm and badly damaging the creature. It was on the verge of falling apart, with only two weapons remaining. The soldier who was helping me charged at it, sensing an opportunity, and I did the same. We severed the remaining two arms simultaneously, and the unseen demonic entity released control of its now-useless puppet, letting it drop to the ground.

I didn’t have much time to relax, however. Someone yelled a warning at me, and a long, slippery tongue grabbed me from above. There was another pelican-lizard thing hidden in the room, waiting for an opportunity to strike. I found myself pulled upwards and, before I could do anything about it, was surrounded in complete darkness. As it was trying to swallow me, I managed to wrest one of my arms free and jam my sword into the creature’s flesh. The monster’s contracting muscles kept dragging me deeper into its throat, but I kept a firm grip on my weapon, and it was tearing an increasingly large hole in its bill. I freed my other arm, grabbed the tear with it, and pulled my sword out. While holding for dear life with one hand, I swung my sword frantically with the other and managed to sever the monster’s tongue, which went limp and released me. Sheathing my sword, I pulled myself up towards the tear and almost smashed my head into the ceiling. The creature was crawling on it, upside down, and I had cut through the soft lower half of its bill. Carefully, I crawled out and dropped myself to the ground. We were in a corridor by now, so the fall didn’t hurt me. The creature crawled away to parts unknown, and I lit the lantern which was at my hip, realizing I had no idea where I was. I went in the opposite direction from the monster, initially, but as soon as I found myself at a crossroads, I was forced to rely on sheer luck.

I spent an indeterminate amount of time in the maze, sometimes picking my direction randomly, and sometimes hearing a strange noise in the distance and going the opposite way. At one moment, I ran headlong into a creature resembling an oversized maggot or, more accurately, a sack of goo with a pair of mandibles trying to cut me up. I started carving into it in a frenzy, until it lay deflated on the floor and I was covered from head to toe in a foul-smelling liquid.

The paths I took seemed to lead me gradually downwards, but in my panicked state, I never once thought to turn around, retrace my steps, and try another way. I kept running frantically until finally I stumbled into something that made me pause.

The corridor I found myself in was somewhat wider than the others. At the end, it opened up into a larger room, which seemed to glow with purple ambient light. I could spot a faint silhouette of a man in its middle.

As I carefully approached the room, more details became apparent. Near the entrance lay the remains of the two soldiers who ran off with Civet and Gorchin. They were in a horribly maimed condition, and I could only recognize them by the vague shape and color of their armor. There was a stone slab in the middle of the room, resembling an altar. In front of it, wrapped in fluorescent purple mist and holding a dagger in his hand, Gorchin was standing, his back turned to me. And lying at the ground beneath his feet, completely motionless, was Civet.