Arc 13 Post 3: From Misshapen Mouth
From Misshapen Mouth
Ninth Day of Elnu-Hamba (Elnu Descendent), 1349 A. L. (After Landfall)
"Death!" you shout in the tongue of lost Normandy. "Death to the damned!" Thus you charge the smaller fiend, the child-mockery. She is fast, faster than she has any right to be, but half dozen of them dance before your eyes, a hateful mocking chorus and Durendal cuts naught but empty air in the place where her second mouth would be.
Six bloody hands reach for the young man in the ground, six hateful voices call for his death... a fel light upon the room failing. Glamors you realize and know that only one is peril... and only one in peril. Though you do not know daemons and nor sorcery you know battle, you know in the face of which foe to raise your shield and bat aside her hand.
One after another George's net flies through the head of one figment, banishing it as James shoots through two of them, arrows whistling through the air even as the signs of battle in the far room grow. Something heavy smashes against the walls or floor... A body, a hateful voice familiar as your own face in the mirror whispers.
The shadows grow thinker, the lights dim, for just a moment it seems as though a mountain had been laid across your shoulder, a nameless dread, but the rush of battle is too great in you now and lordship too real a pledge to cast aside for lying enchantments. "Death!" you call again and your world narrows only to the three of mockeries childhood before you.
Alas again by foul sorcery your blow is cast astray again... another arrow goes through the head of the last false visage and again you interpose the shield that is Olweje's prize between the thing and the fallen warrior it wants to slay, but this time it has been a feint to draw in the flying things as they fall on you with iron hard tails, the blows sink into your back one after another.
You take 6 Damage
Reeling the world blurs before your eyes and when it blurs no more you notice the child mockery is gone, though you hear for just a moment the creak of her feet on the pine floor. Cursing your luck you turn to see see James again managing to strike his foe not once but twice, though the flying horrors are nimble as no bird in the sky. Bronze tipped arrows put out two of its eyes and then George casts a weighted net over the thing.
That is when it speaks and it is no curse, no foul magic, but instead pleading: "Please don't! I didn't want this!" Strangest of all it speaks as though with the tongue of a man and that is when the other daemon lunges not at you, nor at the men of the fellowship, but at the Anjo-oru who had thus spoken in a bling rage.
"Spare me!" the snared Anjo oru says. "Spare me and I will tell you all you want to know, all you need to know!"
What do you do?
[] Try to spare the seemingly surrendering daemon
[] Kill them both, there is still battle to be had and now with the greater of their kin loose
[] Write in
OOC: I know it is frustrating to just have enemies vanish like that, but the vulnadaemon did have invisibility and it did not have a death wish.
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