Price of Blood, part nine

Mis Shatis dances wildly across the battlefield, her sword claiming a dozen enemies within moments. She was not known as the Wyld Storm for nothing. The urge to laugh out loud at the freeing effects of combat threaten to take over her emotions, but a coldness seeps in as she catches sight of more allied corpses. She has murdered six more allies who witnessed the macabre methods that Mentor was employing to dispatch his foes and realizing who the Black Diamond murderer really was.

So she has further isolated herself and Mentor from the rest of the defenders in the hopes that she only has to kill enemies. It has placed them in greater danger, but Shatis steals a glance at Mentor and shudders. Each strike Mentor lands is like a missile, bodies are utterly destroyed. They are transformed into pulpy masses of shattered bones and shredded meat, unrecognizable as the enemies they once were.

Shatis looks again at the bodies of the Black Diamond monks that she has slain. She wonders not for the first time if she has reached the number that will put her over the edge. That will cost her enough of her soul that it will take Ishan away from her regardless of her efforts to keep him.

“Crimson Mist.”

Shatis looks to the source of the voice to find a black robed tsali. One of His champions. Her eyes narrow as she edges his way. He raises a hand and summons into being a silver sword wreathed in blue flames.

“What do you know of such thing?” She demands, killing two naroths in the way.

“Crimson Mist is created in a ritual from the Ebon Mist from Twilight.” The tsali answers with a wide, hungry smile. “The lair of the Seven Shadows is far older than they know.”

The tsali champion looks around Shatis at the lack of allies supporting her and the slain monks. His grin goes even wider. “Your friends have no idea that he uses such dire powers.”

Shatis goes on the attack, slashing and thrusting at the tsali with a furious intensity that forces the tsali into silence while he defends himself. She roars angrily, the sound calling forth the mental image of an angry celestial dragon and batters the tsali champion's sword away. It fades from existence as it flies away from his grasp. He shouts a single word as Shatis slashes and the sword passes harmlessly through his head. Shatis doesn't have the time for shock as he barks another word and a wave of force knocks her back nearly ten feet. She rolls to her knees, sword still in hand. She raises the sword in time to block an overhead strike by the tsali with a new blazing silver sword. He bears down on her, leering in recognition.

“I know who you are! You are Mist Shatis! The one that they call the Wyld Storm! One f the few remaining Celestial Dragon Kung Fu masters as I recall.”

Shatis grits her teeth, trying to hold the tsali at bay. She says nothing as his leering expression takes a turn for the perverse.

“You were the Master's most favorite servant! Help me slay your friend and leave this battle with me. I will not tell your friends of your betrayals in exchange for certain favors...”

The tsali champion licks his lips lustily and laughs.

“Even now you are deliciously tempting. It would be an honor to have something that the master once had.”

Shatis nearly gives in on instinct. It was her fate for years after all, to be the servant of Sikarin. To satisfy his every carnal requirement. Then she steels herself. She is here to gain vengeance or die trying as to not repeat the cycle of abuse.

“Never!” She shouts, shoving the tsali champion back. She rolls back and flips to her feet.

“Mentor!” She calls out. “Help me!”

Mentor turns and strikes the air, though he is thirty feet from the tsali champion. The air ripples as it carries the force of his strike. The ground is torn in a groove and everything in it's path shatters into atoms. The tsali shouts the spell to make himself immaterial, but the force of Mentor's power hits him and scatters him like smoke before a strong wind. This force continues until it strikes a section of the outer wall, shattering a ten foot section like brittle glass. Mis Shatis looks on in awe at Mentor, nearly dropping her sword. Then her expression hardens and she points to His winged general.

“We waste time here.” She commands. “You are ready to take down Nikantu.”

Mentor nods to Shatis, the air around him shimmering with destructive power.

“I am.”

The very action of his speaking shatters the corpses around him.

Shatis looks towards Sikarin Tsooth, a feral grin widening across her expression. Amazed that now she even thought his name after so long. “God. Let's move.”

*****************

Ishan shouts orders to the warrior-monks around him as a section of wall explodes inwards from an unseen force. Creatures from Sikarin's army begin spilling in as Ishan stretches his defenses thin to cover the new gap. As he is about the call the retreat to the inner keep's gate, the enemies pull back. Ishan frowns at the sudden pause in violence when he spots another tsali champion. This one in a flaming red robe.

He leers at Ishan, laughing cruelly. “It ends here, Goldenfire. You and your people will all die.”

Ishan shakes his head and starts towards the champion with his sword. He stops when he hears the distant baying of wolves and snarls at the champion.

“More? Is there no end to your filth?”

The tsali champion's face goes blank for a second before it is replaced by a malicious grin.

“A sledgehammer to kill a housefly. Good fun.”

The tsali speaks a word and flies up into the air a few feet. Red energy pours from his hands and forms into a humanoid form around him. As the glow fades, it is revealed as a giant iron form of the tsali. He speaks another word and a giant red blazing brass sword appears in his hand.

Ishan raises his sword overhead in time to block the giant tsali's attack. Ishan grunts as he's driven to one knee by the strike. The champion laughs overhead.

“You are nothing! I am the most powerful of the Master's servants. None alive can defeat me.”

Ishan taps into inner reserves of strength and shoves the tsali back as he stands up straight. He takes advantage of the tsali's off-balance and cuts at his left leg. He is greeted by a shower of sparks and a trickle of red energy as a small gash is opened up in the tsali's iron leg.

Ishan presses his advantage as the tsali howls in pain. He forces the giant tsali back with mythic strength, landing a few more minor cuts. As the baying of wolves grow louder, the tsali recovers at Ishan's uncertainty. The tsali shouts out a single word the causes a flaming sphere expand out from his blade in a concussive burst, knocking Ishan back at least ten feet. The tsali s on him, sword held high. Ishan glances about, his own sword is nowhere in sight.

Ishan raises a restraining hand and points to the battlefield. “Waait! Look!”

The tsali seems to hesitate, but he looks to where Ishan points and sputters in shock. Spirits in the form of wolves have run into the battle and they shape-change into hybrid wolf-man forms and attack Sikarin's forces. As they attack, the horsemen turn on their allies. The tsali turns back to Ishan and raises his sword to finish Ishan off.

A large wolf-man leaps at the tsali, raking his chest with a single claw swipe that staggers him. Deep gouges are left in the tsali's chest, leaking red energies and blood. The wolf-man tosses Ishan his sword. Before the tsali can recover, Ishan removes his sword hand at the wrist.

The tali looks to his two enemies in a panic. Red energies pour from his wounds and blood from his chest. Ishan sheathes his sword with a grin.

“There is no honor in using weapons on an unarmed foe.”

The tsali champion begins speaking a spell, but Ishan leaps into the air with such a terrible battle cry that the tsali shrieks instead. Ishan palm strikes the damaged chest with enough force that he thrusts his hand out of the tsali's back to reveal a gore-covered hand. Ishan rips his arm back from the tsali and back flips to the ground as the tsali collapses. The metal form around the tsali fades to red energies that dissipate, leaving the tsali on the ground. A great hole of pulped flesh exists where his chest would have been.

Ishan looks at his new ally, extending his hand in thanks. The wolf-man takes it warmly, unusual in his not being a spirit like the others. Recognition sparks as Ishan looks the wolf-man in the eyes.

“Jingkai?” He asks cautiously, not believing his own eyes.

A low growl answers him. “Yes.”

Relief floods Ishan. His friend lives! Except that he has been transformed into his nickname. Into the very representation of the style he left his father's House to learn. The Wolf.

Jingkai shakes his head at the questions he sees forming at Ishan's lips, the light reflecting off of the silver paw print on his cheek. “Later. We will talk later.”

Jingkai rushes headlong into the ranks of the enemies without another word, slashing left and right with his claws. Ishan nods to himself and strides past his allies and into the thick of the enemy ranks. He taps into his reserve of strength and slashes at the air. A wave of deadly force ripples through the air, cutting through scores of enemies on it's way to Ishan and Nikantu. When the wave reaches the dark sorcerer, it breaks apart like a wave against the rocks.

Ishan advances on the sorcerer with his sword in hand and a battle cry on his lips. Sikarin Tsooth does nothing as Ishan swings his sword, impassive in the face of certain danger.

The impassiveness turns into a wide grin as the giant vurlken parries Ishan's strike. He reaches down with one hand and grabs Ishan by the gi, flinging him twenty feet away with ease. Sikarin laughs.

“Meet Nikantu. He is the King of the Vurlken and my general for this army.”

Ishan doesn't hear much of what Sikarin has to say while rolling to his feet and raising his sword in time to parry an overhead strike from Nikantu. The ground beneath Ishan cracks and buckles, but Ishan holds on as Nikantu pounds on him with a sword as big as Ishan himself. Nikantu turns, clubbing Ishan down with his wing.

His voice is a deep bestial growl as he leans down and backhands Ishan.

“No Goldenfire has ever defeated Sikarin Tsooth.”

Nikantu knocks Ishan's sword from his hand and picks him up by the front of his gi. Ishan feels his gorge rising at being so close to the grisly armor of the general. Human bones coated in rotting meat and gristle armor the Nikantu's frame. Ishan manages to pick out a few choice gaps and stalls for time as Nikantu brings him closer.

“What are you talking about?” He asks.

Nikantu shakes his head. “You bear his sword, but do not know of it's origin. You will die in ignorance.”

Nikantu holds Ishan in one hand and swings his sword with the other to behead his victim, but Ishan strikes an opening in the armor. Nikantu drops Ishan, allowing him to grab his sword and slash the general along the ribcage. Sparks fly as Ishan's sword glances off of the bone armor, leaving only a small scratch.

Nikantu parries the next slash and presses Ishan back. While Ishan holds his ground, his entire body is pressed backwards with his feet dragging the ground.

“Give up, Goldenfire.” Nikantu growls. “Death will be quick.”

Ishan grits his teeth, digging his feet in to stop his movement. He digs deep into his reserve of strength and presses Nikantu back a step. He snarls at Nikantu through clenched teeth, pressing the vurlken king back another step.

“Never!”

A series of metallic pings is heard over the din of combat. The sound proves to be a harbinger as Nikantu's sword shatters. He staggers backwards as Ishan's sword carries through the cloud of shrapnel to cleave through as bone in his chest through the armor. Nikantu howls in pain, blood pouring from the wound.

Ishan squats down and leas into the air. Nikantu roars as flames pour from his mouth. The flames part around Ishan's sword, leaving him unharmed. He thrusts his sword home under Nikantu's chin, sending the sword tip through the top of his skull. Ishan holds onto his sword hilt and Nikantu's jaw as he falls backwards to the ground.

Ishan rips his sword from Nikantu and begins advancing on Sikarin Tsooth, who stands impassive in the face of his strongest servant on the field being slain.

“You'll go no further than here, sorcerer.” Ishan threatens with a grim smile.

Sikarin points the head of his staff at Ishan with a short chuckle. Ishan raises his sword and blocks a bolt of blue fire. The flames stick to the sword, changing to red. Ishan strides towards Sikarin, the red blazing sword casting a maniacal bloody light across his face.

“Now, Sikarin. Now you die.”

Sikarin shakes his head, pointing the palm of his free hand towards the ground. The sound of distant thunder fills the air as chaotic streams of black lightning travel from his palm and into the ground. Ishan stops in his tracks, his expression cautious.

“No.” Sikarin states. “Now you all die.”

Ishan is nearly thrown to the ground as everything begins to shake. Sikarin begins laughing maniacally as the ground between them starts to swell.

Ishan steadies himself and launches himself at the moving mound, intending on climbing past it to get at Sikarin. He stops when the mound explodes, sending dirt everywhere. He looks up in awe as a vast oriental dragon with obsidian scales and steel gray belly launches up from the ground and hangs in the air.

“An Infernal Dragon...” Ishan whispers to himself as the dragon rises to nearly two hundred feet above the battlefield. How much more of the dragon that is still in the ground is uncertain. Everywhere, people and monsters scatter as the infernal dragon exhales a great gout of flame that incinerates everything in it's path.

Ishan slashes at the infernal dragon with his blazing sword, but beyond putting out the flames the attacks do nothing but cause sparks to fly. The dragon glances at Ishan and ignores him, sending another blast of fire at the battlefield below.

Ishan looks on, amazed at the single man still standing after the last flame attack. He stands before the infernal dragon, still wreathed in flames. Ishan shouts a name as he recognizes the lone warrior.

“Mentor!”

The infernal dragon lunges quickly, snapping up Mentor in his jaws along with a section of earth. As the dragon straightens, Ishan reaches down into his reserves of strength. He thrusts his sword, burying it to the hilt into the dragon's side.

Ishan rips the sword out and prepares to strike again as corrupted black blood runs from the fresh wound. He falls onto his back, his strength nearly all spent. The infernal dragon rears back to regard Ishan with an angry growl.

Ishan holds his breathe at the infernal dragon slowly inhales, but lets t out in a startled gasp as the dragon buckles from heavy machine gun fire exploding against it's head and neck. He gives a whoop of joy, seeing the Atlas-class transports that dropped him and his brethren return, opening fire on the infernal dragon. Ishan gets to his feet and backs away as it starts raining broken scales, blood, and small chunks of smoking dragon flesh.

The infernal dragon roars in pain, but points it's claws in the direction of the helicopters. Black and purple lightning cackles from the dragon's talons to rip through the transports. The lightning jumps from helicopter to helicopter in a destructive chain that transforms the helicopters into glowing clouds of shrapnel or sends them spiraling down to the ground.

Once the sky is cleared of attackers, the infernal dragon looks down at Ishan again. As the dragon inhales, Ishan can see the flames building in the back of it's throat.

Then as suddenly as it starts, the build up of flame stops. Ishan hears a muffled roar coming from within the dragon's throat, but not from the dragon itself. The dragon's throat quickly expands and explodes outwards in a burst of flame that beheads the beast. At the center of this explosion shouting loudly as he burns is Mentor. He seems to hover in mid-air fr seconds and then begins to fall. Ishan loses sight of him as he rolls to avoid the impact of the infernal dragon's head.

Ishan stands up and grabs the head for support as the rest of the infernal dragon's body slams into the ground. He picks up his sword, gathering the last of his strength. The army of monsters is defeated, but there is one last foe to slay.

Ishan scans where Sikarin Tsooth had stood, but all he finds is Mis Shatis. She looks around, sword in hand, and shouts for Sikarin to make himself shown. He marvels at her new strength, calling for her former master and tormentor by name. He speaks to the open space.

“Where have you fled to, Sikarin Tsooth?”

*****************

The Price of Blood, part eight

Mis Shatis nearly laughs out loud as she dispatches a vurlken with her sword. It is a giant spider with the upper torso of a female human. She screams an elated battle cry that distracts a tsali long enough for her to behead him. She continues her motion into a backspin kick that crushes the skull of another tsali.

She continues with near blinding speed and feats of preternatural agility as the sheer joy of unfettered combat settles upon her. With no worries about the grisly murders that have plagued the Black Diamond and not needing to worry about Mentor's current state of health, she focuses on the one tack at hand that brings her immense joy. Slaying the monsters she had been exiled with for two years on one of His whims. She is also striking back at Him. She doesn't think His name, not wanting to utter it even in her thoughts. She sees Him at the far end of the battlefield. Nikantu stands next to Him as the general of this army. He is a leader of the Naroths, the winged gray humanoids dressed in the bones of their victims. He stands over fifteen feet tall, more than double the size of the others. Still, he is an obstacle that Mentor can help her overcome. She just has to find him.

The massive head of a terpian sails overhead to land close to Him. With such strength to throw the head of a spine-flinging serpent such as the terpian, Shatis muses. Mentor must be near. She looks to the source of the projectile and finds Mentor ripping the torso from a vurlken. He grabs the abdomen of the creature and uses it to crush a deatheye with it. With enemies backing away from her at the moment, she takes the time to watch Mentor fight. Elbows, fists, knees, feet, forehead, and corpses are all used as efficient deadly weapons.

Shatis gives a wild shout and begins working her way to Mentor's position. As she gets to within ten feet of him, her jubilant war whoops become a horrified scream. Mentor palms the head of a tsali with one hand and holds out a stoppered vial in the other. He can't do this! Not now. Not in front of so many of their allies at once! She screams for him to stop, but Mentor pops the cork with his thumb and drops the vial as his form is wreathed in a black mist. Mentor speaks a word and plunges his hand into the tsali's chest and rips out his heart. He drops the corpse, the black mist turning red like a fog of blood in the air and dissolves the heart. This mist is absorbed into Mentor's body. The effects of the potion cleanse him of any battlefield gore and heals many of his wounds.

Mis Shatis gets to Mentor's side as he pops open another vial and rips the heart out of a naroth. She screams again as the crimson mist is absorbed into his body.

“Mentor! No!” She screams. “You must stop this before the mist controls you!”

Mentor wheels around to look at Mis Shatis, blood lust radiating from his eyes like blazing coals. When he speaks, his voice is a deep, booming bass that is free of its previous weakness.

“Power.” He utters. “I become unlimited!”

Mentor grabs a nearby tsali, disrupting the desperate spell on his lips and flings him at the wall. The tsali impacts at terminal velocity, his body shattering into a red smear. He grabs a naroth and pulls out another vial.

“POWER!”

The force of his voice alone shatters the rotted meat and bone armor of the naroth. He pops the cork on the third vial while speaking a word in an arcane tongue. He rips the heart out of the struggling naroth as the black mist around him turns crimson and shouts in ecstasy as the crimson mist fills him with strength.

Mis Shatis swallows hard and looks across the battlefield to where He stands with Nikantu standing next to him. She points to the winged giant.

“Do you have the strength to destroy Nikantu so I can have my vengeance against Him?” Her voice betrays her, dropping to a whisper. Mentor pulls out another vial.

“Allow me to continue and I will...”

Mis Shatis wipes away the sudden appearance of tears running down her cheeks. The joy of battle drains from her as she realizes the possible cost that her vengeance may bring, and yet there is really no other option for her heart. Her voice pains her as she responds to him.

“Do it.”

As Mentor grabs another vurlken and wreathes himself once again in black mist, a woman nearby screams in horror. Shatis looks to the source of the scream to find Bai Mei, the wife of Tu Fusha. The man transformed into a monster and slain by Ishan Goldenfire. She points at Mentor, her face a mask of fear and revulsion.

“He did it. Didn't he?” She shrieks. “He has been murdering our brothers! I bet it was him who caused my husband to transform!”

Mis Shatis holds up a restraining hand. “No! It's not what you think! Mentor only-”

Mentor makes Bai Mei's point by ripping out the heart of the vurlken and absorbing the resulting crimson mist. Shatis sighs as Bai Mei screams again.

“I must warn the others! Ishan will know what to do!”

Shatis moves quickly to get between the horrified girl and the rest of the battlefield, cutting her off from her allies.

“Now Mei.” Shatis warns. “You don't want to do that. I need him!”

Bai Mei looks at Shatis with new eyes of anger and hate. “You knew this didn't you? You brought him to us, knowing that he was a killer! Ishan will have both of your heads for the crimes against the Black Diamond!”

“No!” Shatis cries. “I need Mentor, but I can't lose Ishan! Please! Don't say anything!”

Bai Mei shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. “I have to so that my husband's spirit can rest. You must understand!”

Shatis nods. “I understand.”

Bai Mei looks back at Mentor and shudders as he claims another victim. She starts moving back towards where Ishan was last seen when Shatis move suddenly. She runs Mei through with her sword and pulls her by the front of her gi until the hilt rests against her sternum.

“I'm sorry.” Shatis whispers. “I can't lose Ishan and I need Mentor.”

Shatis pulls the blade from Bai Mei and lets her body fall to the ground. She looks at the blood on the blood on the sword with an expression of anguish and self-loathing.

“What have I done?” She whispers. “Mentor...what have I done?”

*****************

Ishan Goldenfire jumps up and grabs his sword from the ground. He looks around wildly before realizing that the fighting has left him behind. The Jade Hare and the Black Diamond have pressed Sikarin Tsooth's forces beyond the breach and into the open. Ishan grins as he notes that Sikarin's largest monsters have all been destroyed.

Ishan laughs. “Even outnumbered, we will still win the day!”

Ishan moves to join his brothers, but stops when the space behind Sikarin becomes blurred like the dropping of a veil. When it becomes clear again, it is revealed that Sikarin had only committed a quarter of his forces. Ishan doesn't see anymore of the large monsters, but there are many more that begin rushing the field. Black Diamond and Jade Hare warrior-monks begin dying by the dozen as they are overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Ishan rushes to the breach and calls out orders to fall back beyond the wall. He directs monks back up to the wall to man the anti-aircraft guns that begin opening fire as soon as their allies are clear.

Fire blazes up the crumbling walls, incinerating the monks climbing there. Ishan looks to the source of the fire to see a black robed tsali. His demeanor is different as if he were accustomed to authority. His eyes narrow at the sight of Ishan.

“Goldenfire.” He hisses.

“I know. I know.” Ishan snaps, interrupting the pale sorcerer. “You'll get much glory for killing a Goldenfire. Can we get on with me killing you now?”

The tsali spits on the ground with an expression of disgust. “I am a favored champion of Sikarin Tsooth! I have no need for such glory! However, when I slay you and dine upon your flesh...much power must be stored within the genes of the Goldenfire line. I will be most powerful. You see us as we are famished. Our power when our hunger is sated is...wonderful.”

Ishan shakes his head with a rue smile. “You really are stupid then. Aren't you? I'm no different than any other except being I'm the one killing you.”

Ishan brings his sword in a downward arc to split the tsali in two when he speaks a word. With a flash of blue flame, the tsali parries with a burning silver sword.

“No!” He retorts. “You will die. And your friends will die. I am eternal.”

The tsali backs away, but launches into a low slash with his sword. Ishan easily blocks it, but the tsali places a hand on Ishan's chest and speaks a single word. Ishan is tossed back from the point blank lightning bolt, but remains on his feet. He grits his teeth through the pain and brushes away the smoke from his chest.

“Your parlor tricks won't work on me, sorcerer!” Ishan boasts.

The tsali champion's laughter is full of menace. “I don't want to cook the meat. Luscious, powerful meat! My blade will finish you.”

The tsali comes at Ishan, his burning blade leaving trails in the air as he weaves a complex pattern before attacking. Ishan parries each attack, but is slow to respond with the pain in his chest becoming stronger than he realized. The tsali brings his blade to bear against Ishan's pressing him down to one knee. The blue blaze sheathing the sword blisters Ishan's cheek as the tsali presses down. The tsali spits on Ishan's face, laughing as the spittle sizzles into nothing from the mystic heat.

“I will kill you now.” He hisses.

Ishan blocks out the pain and shoves back with all his strength, sending the tsali backwards for twenty feet. His burning blade flies from his hand, fading from existence as it does so.

The tsali leaps to his feet as Ishan stands, calling out a spell that sends a glowing jade shard at Ishan where it sinks into his left shoulder. Ishan charges at the tsali with his sword held high, but it is parried by a resummoned burning silver sword. The tsali sneers as their swords are locked together as once again Ishan's strength starts to drain away.

“You can't defeat me!” He gloats. “You are nothing like the Goldenfire of legend!”

Ishan takes a hand off of the hilt of his sword and curses as he drives a palm strike to the tsali's forehead. The strike possesses enough strength to snap the tsali's neck. As the tsali's body crumples to the ground, his sword and jade shard fade from existence. Ishan sighs in relief as the burning pain in his chest also fades away.

“Only a spell...” He mumbles to himself.

The tide of horrific creatures falter at the slaying of one of Sikarin's tsali champions. Ishan takes advantage of the moment, slaying those around him while rallying his brother warrior-monks.

“To me!” He shouts. “Don't let them past the breach! Protect the keep!”

Ishan is quickly joined by Black Diamond and Jade Hare warrior-monks and the advance of Sikarin's monstrous horde is halted. Still, Ishan feels his spirits drop. They can only hold for a little while longer. He grabs a young Jade Hare warrior-monk.

“We can't hold the breach! Is there a way to evacuate the keep?”

The young monk looks at the keep and shakes his head.

“I don't know!” He cries out. “I just don't know!”

Ishan points to the roof f the keep. “Find your Elder! He leaped to the roof before Sikarin destroyed the gate! He will know how to get your people to safety!”

The monk nods and starts to run before Ishan stops him again. “What's your name, boy?”

The young monk draws himself up a little at being called “boy”, but answers. “Mishra Tan, sir!”

Ishan nods. “Go Mishra Tan and be safe. Everyone inside the inner keep depends on you.”

Mishra Tan gives a short bow and runs towards the inner keep. Ishan doesn't spare him another glance, having gone back to the fighting.

“Stay safe.” He intones before screaming a battle cry and splitting a naroth in half.

***************

Muta ducks behind the massive beast's head as a vurlken passes by. Once the danger is gone, he slips over the neck of the creature and begins trying to pull his hook-shaped daggers free. He curses as the blades don't budge, wedged deep in the monster's flesh. He ducks again as a deatheye floats by.

Muta comes out from cover and grabs the dagger while planting his feet on the beat's neck as to appear as if he were scaling the great creature. He curses loudly as they still won't come free. A feminine clearing of a throat makes him freeze. He looks over his shoulder to see a giant-sized vurlken. She has her arms crossed with a stern expression. Muta waves with a friendly smile.

“I'll get to fighting you in just one moment, miss. My knives seem to be stuck.”

Muta turns back to the daggers, pulling with desperation while listening behind him. From her growling, he muses that she didn't care for his sarcasm. She clears her throat again. Muta turns to look back at her, summoning his courage.

“Yes?” He asks as sweetly as one can when faced with a giant half-woman, half-spider.

She looks down at him with such a stern expression that Muta wonders if he'd been suddenly married in the middle of combat.

“You know I was set to pass you by and spare your life, but since you were so rude to use such language in the presence of not only a woman, but royalty? Your life is forfeit!”

Muta releases the daggers and drops to the ground to stand in front f the vurlken. He nearly laughs, but stops himself. He asks the question on his mind.

“Are you serious? Really? Are we not fighting? You would spare my life except for the fact that I cursed at my dagger that I need to keep myself alive because you are supposed to be killing me. So I ask you again. Are you serious?”

The giant vurlken draws herself up and crosses her arms again under her barely covered, ample bosom in a gesture that threatens to send them violently out into the open.

“I am a woman.” She huffs. “Correct?”

Muta drops his eyes away from the nearly fully revealed bosom and nods. The absurdity of the situation making it seem all the more unreal.

“Yes.” He admits. “At least half of you is.”

“And I am the Queen of the Vurlken!” She adds angrily. “Both of which mean you must act with respect in my presence. Correct?”

Muta shrugs, starting to back towards where his daggers were wedged into the beast's neck. “I suppose you're right. So I should use no foul language and be respectful when I kill you?”

The vurlken queen grins maliciously. “No, but what does it matter to one who is about to die?”

Muta frowns as he backs towards the beast, but stops when he looks down to see a long black spider leg. He spins around to see two more vurlken. The queen laughs.

“My daughters are hungry and you are unarmed. So now, rude human male, you will die.”

As the nearest vurlken reaches for him, a spine from a serpent bursts from her chest. She looks down shocked as she is lifted into the air, ran through the abdomen to chest like a spit. Hiroshima tosses the dying vurlken to the side and grabs the other by the head before she can react and snaps her neck. He pulls the hook-shaped daggers out of the beast's neck with ease and hands them to Muta before dodging out of the way as the vurlken queen thrusts at him with a spine from a serpent.

“My daughters!” She cries out in anguish.

Muta dodges under a thrust and leaps into the air, catching the queen on the armor between her bosoms with his dagger. As he lands on the ground, the dagger splits open her black chitinous armor while leaving a long shallow cut down the center of her belly. She drops the spine, her hands instinctively covering her bared breasts. Hiroshima catches the spine, reverses it, and thrusts it totally into the queen's abdomen. She screams in pain, knocking Hiroshima to the side. She picks up the spine with her daughter's corpse spitted on it and kicks Muta to the side of the beast. She holds the corpse-laden spine over her head, her expression one of frenzied rage and pain.

Just as the spine were to strike home, Hiroshima pushes Muta out of the way and is struck by the spine in the shoulder. The spine goes all the way through, pinning Hiroshima to the side of the beast with the corpse of the vurlken sliding down on top of him. The vurlken queen reaches for Muta with her bare hands to kill him, but realizes that he has gone. She looks around, but stops when she feels searing pains along her abdomen and legs. She peers down below to see Muta darting between her man legs to cut at them and above him to leave long, deep gashes in her abdomen. Muta is coated in spraying dark blood as he continues to do as much damage as he can.

Muta slashes one more time with his daggers, shearing through two rear legs to make his escape as the vurlken queen collapses to the ground. The combination of damage done by Hiroshima and Muta proving to be fatal. Muta steps out of reach as the queen realizes that she will never stand again, her skin color pales quickly as her life blood quickly drains away.

“I'm sorry for being rude.” Muta quietly apologizes. “I'm sorry that it had to end this way. Serving Sikarin Tsooth and his evils was a terrible error of judgment. You should have remained free.”

The vurlken queen slumps as he life slips away from her. She manages to shake her head.

“No.” She counters. “Service to Sikarin almost never involves judgment. You and your people should know that.”

With that she closes her eyes in death. Muta feels a pang of regret as her human half crumples against her black abdomen. The feelings vanish quickly as he rushes to Hiroshima's side. The enemy mill about, regarding the fallen queen before picking easier targets. Muta grabs at the spine and attempts to pull it out, but it doesn't budge. Hiroshima grunts in pain as the weight on the spine is shifted. He grumbles as Muta examines the spine.

“If I had known this would happen I may have left you to be impaled.”

Muta grins as he tugs at the spine. “What and leave me to have all the fun? I know better. Can you move the spine and spider-lady at all?”

Muta turns and draws both daggers as Hiroshima makes an attempt to free himself. Six angry vurlken surround Muta and Hiroshima. He gives a short, sarcastic laugh.

“No pressure, Hiro. You just need to do it now or we become spider chow.”

*********************