Dueling Fate

"This terrain clearly favors a creature that can creep and crawl." You say. "Is there something we might do to lure it out?"

Bai Ping considers, idly running a finger along one string of his guzheng, though not enough to make a sound. "From what we saw, I doubt it is as intelligent as its parent would have been. But it must be feeding off something. Perhaps some bait? Something living, and the smell of fresh blood would help."

Bait you understand well enough. You set out to catch some. Perhaps a rabbit or fowl of some sort will lure the Hand out of its hiding place.

Agility 2 + Survival 2 +1 Amulet = 5d10

1 2 1 5 1

However, after the better part of an hour's effort, you are forced to conclude that there is no game to be found here. It might be your imagination, but it feels like some taint clouds the air, some hint of foulness that hints at the otherworldly presence here. It is no surprise that the only things that live in the immediate area are those too small to leave, and thus of little interest to the creature.

After conferring with Bai Ping, you settle on an alternate plan - shedding some fresh blood on a cloth and leaving it near the entrance to the maze of chasms.

Then you pick your spot, hiding behind one of the large boulders that are scattered around the entrance to the maze. Bai Ping has his own hiding spot behind and to the right of you. You bow is drawn, your finger holding an arrow knocked to the string. Your eyes are clear, your mind focused. Your spiritual sense ready to form the Coursing River Arrow.

And still, nothing.

The only warning you have is the slight, faintest tapping sound of claw on stone before Bai Ping yells out.



You turn and see the Black Hand reel away from Bai Ping, some defensive talisman having activated with a blinding flare of light that causes the demon to remove itself from the now wounded musician, blackened wounds matching the blood-red flames already. As your comrade readies his guzheng, the Hand is quicker, and rears back, releasing some sort of foul miasma from its palm, creating a cloud around Bai Ping that smells of rot and death. Bai Ping's amulet flares again and his playing disburses the cloud and attacks the demon.

The Hand seems larger now, more dangerous. Perhaps it has been feeding? It shrugs off the spiritual assault with minimal effect. You can see fear in Bai Ping's eyes as he attempts to step back, while his fingers play their song.

The Hand is stronger than the last time you saw it. But it is not the only thing that has grown. You feel that twisting in your gut from before, but having steeled yourself against it, you are able to focus through it. Your arrow is already at the string, your mind is already laying the foundation of a Coursing River. You had no technique before, no way to lash out with Qi at this creature of darkness, and it makes a difference indeed.

The arrow finds its home and a burst of watery qi flashes outwards, sending the Hand reeling and tumbling into the ground, kicking up dust and sending rocks tumbling. Your plan has already fallen apart, and it's up to you to rescue it, so you drop your bow and charge at the demon, tackling it in order to keep it away from Bai Ping. The scholar retreats, eyes ablaze with intensity as his fingers pluck the string.

From there, your strong frame, bolstered by the power of the mighty Kraken burning in your soul. The Hand, wounded by your arrow and your blows, struggles against you, flaring alternately with infernal fire and blinding smoke. Ping's music is an eerie counterpart to the battle - the serenity and peace it conjures an ironic accompaniment to the desperate struggle in the dirt. Your forms are meant for fighting humans, not animated beasts, but the spirit of the Champion pulls you forward - harnessed aggression fuels your blows against the thing as it tries vainly to dodge.

The creature turns and tries to slip away from you, but you have no intention of letting it slip away. You keep it cornered against the rock, circling along with it, and when it leaps you manage to slap it back against the ground. Rearing, you can almost imagine it hissing or roaring before it leaps onto you.

The Hand claws great smoking rents through your leather armor and the skin beneath, and you feel your lifeblood leaking to the ground beneath you. But you are no longer mortal, and more than blood runs in your veins now. With a mighty effort, you pull the demon off of your body, raise it above your head, and smash it against the boulder next to you, with enough force to crack the stone and the creature's bones as well.

The demon makes no sound, but it flounders and writhes on the ground as it falls. You look at it with disgust, but a brief flicker of doubt enters your heart. You remember Tao Shirong's words - if he is to be believed, this creature is no different in its essential desires than you. Both of you came to a strange place, far from home, and sought to improve your power so you could achieve your goals. Do you have the right to judge this creature? To be its executioner?

Then you remember the fire and screams of the night of the attack. You remember the wound in Bai Ping's body, still flush with corruption.

Perhaps you do not have the right. But you took on this duty, and you will fulfill it. Rearing above the creature, you bring your full weight to bear and deliver a blow straight to its center.

There is a crack as you slam the demon fragment to the ground.

Then there is silence.

You pant as Bai Ping comes to you. He is also bleeding from the creature's slashes, skin already blistered from its burns. But there is grim satisfaction in his eyes. "Valiantly done," the musician acknowledges. "I could not have slain it alone. Not yet." His fingers stir against the strings of his instrument as he gazes at it still.

In the wreckage of the creature's body, you feel something begin pulling at you. Ping eyes you, and you feel a feather-light touch on your spirit. His eyes are expressionless for a moment, then he sighs. "The core, Lind. You will want to extract it."

You let your senses guide you, your knife already in your hand when you were sure it had been resting in its sheath. Somewhere near the centre of the creature's bones and sinew, you slide the blade in - the flesh's texture subtly wrong in a way you can't define.

You reach in, and your hand comes away holding a shard of black. Its texture is slick, and it glows wetly in your hand. You feel energy in here, like qi, but different.

Your stomach growls, but the sound is not physical.

The instructions of the Devouring Crucible fill your mind. You instinctively understand. This is one of the great secrets of the Empire - to turn a cultivator's ancient enemy into strength.

The demon's core is vital now, but in minutes it will crystallize into a gem. Such cores can be used in talismans, but also, for you, pills. The effect of a pill would be stronger than devouring the core whole, as your qi urges you to do, but then you do not know if a refiner capable of such work exists in the sect.

Perhaps the Ghost could help you?

Then again, the core is appetizing on its own, whispering to you of promised strength and power if you just taste it now.

What do you do?

[] A core in your stomach is worth pills in the future. Take in the power now, you have earned it.

[] You can use every ounce of cultivation you can muster. A delay will be worth it. You will seek a refiner who can work with demon cores.