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Chapter 7 - Gateway to Hell
Fernando made a speedy getaway - or rather, made to move as quickly as his stocky legs could take him with the two hungry trolls in tow. Percy managed to keep his cool, despite his paperwork being flung asunder to the murky pools surrounding him as if autumn leaves into a town sewer.
Goreblaster swore under his breath, so as to not ruin his public image - apparently spending most of his life halfway in the guts of monsters or the thankful local populace wasn’t a dealbreaker enough for him to still become a family-friendly household name. Not that anyone was present to witness this eventual win over the trolls, and Percy was in no state to record the act. This adventure was quickly becoming a wash, and not the kind he sorely wanted after drenching himself in the tangible atmosphere of the bog.
The troll before him made for a leap, arms outstretched. Despite the thick swampy water between them, the monster had little difficulty in moving its strong stumpy legs through the fluid. Blue light reflected in the pale green eyes of the troll as the barbarian powered up.
With a quick hop, Goreblaster jumped onto the arm of the creature, running up it like a squirrel along a felled tree. And quickly un-squirrel-like he slipped around the elbow - the slick mud on the troll’s grey skin was not a particularly ideal surface for a quick jog. He turned the accident into a sweeping attack, bringing down Pureheart upon the long arm, severing it from the body. The dual splash of the barbarian and the arm-part sent filthy muck all up parts of Goreblaster, which caused him to swear slightly less under-his-breath.
“Gore!” Percy called out from slightly down the road. While Fernando was not fast by any definition of the word, especially the most common one, the bog trolls were only slightly more lethargic than the ageing mule. The result was a constant almost disaster that left the assistant/manager in no immediate, but still a constant cusp of, danger. Not wanting to make a habit of swearing, the barbarian instead sighed, as he remembered trolls could only be permanently killed with fire or acid.
“Before I save you,” he called out, vaguely ignoring the wailing troll holding their arm stump behind him, “Did you have a way that I could actually kill these guys?”
“What?”
Goreblaster stumbled from the bog, boots making sucking noises as they puckered out of the stench-mud, like saying goodbye to your overprotective gram-gram. Only without the stench-mud, hopefully. “You know - acid? Fire? This isn’t amateur hour.” He chose to ignore the visual of his round friend being slowly chased by trolls that could barely catch up.
“Isn’t your sword fire?”
“No?” He held up Pureheart, the magical blade still glowing light blue. “It’s like, powered by souls or my pure spirit or something. An unquenchable thirst for conquest over foul evil?”
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As if summoned by his very words, the troll had recovered behind him, stump extending as his arm slowly regrew. Goreblaster barely managed to roll to the side to avoid the large fist crashing into the dirt pathway. Pureheart whipped around, gashing a line of opened flesh on the back of the monster’s hand. “I could cut them into bits and run away?”
“You have to vanquish, can’t just leave them here to cause mischief after they regenerate.”
For someone so short on a slow mule, Percy was certainly on a high horse about doing the right thing. In fairness, the bespeckled manager was correct - leaving the trolls temporarily inconvenienced wasn’t really part of the brand… but then what was he to do?
“Goreblaster,” Percy called back again, as the barbarian dodged another sluggish attack from the injured monster, “I know of a place that has a lot of fire…”
“Noooo…” the barbarian shook his head. He had certainly been called slow before, usually by those overcompensating for their own inadequacies, but it didn’t take him more than a heartbeat to catch on to the plan that Percy was hatching. “They aren’t going to follow us all the way to the Gateway.”
“We’ll just open it here.” Percy reasoned as Fernando panted heavily, somehow having managed to turn around on the road and make his way back towards the barbarian.
“What, isn’t it off along the way to somewhere?” Goreblaster lopped off the second arm of the flailing troll, now two regenerating stumps waving in the air.
“No, we could do it anywhere!”
Goreblaster clenched his jaw. “Then. Why. The. Journey?” The pair were coming up close to him now, and he could see the slight panic in those small beady eyes of the assistant.
“Extra credit?” The uncomfortable squeak of the response popped out of Percy’s mouth as much as he may want to keep it hidden away, like Goreblaster's collection of pressed flowers.
“Do the thing now! Or I’ll send you to Hell the old-fashioned way!” Goreblaster was not above offing his small companion, mostly because Percy was higher when sitting on the mule. Despite the brief moment of ineptitude, the man had been a sturdy rock in their adventures; a little bit of banter was acceptible in high-stress situations - although he was sure it would be brought up in his next quarterly performance review.
Percy lobbed a small object in the air towards him, which he caught deftly - flashing a smile at the absent crowd. He still imagined their praise over how he looked so rad doing such a basic hand-eye coordination task whilst being so muscular and intimidating. It was an oval-shaped stone, dark grey and mottled in tone, with a deep red arcane symbol engraved on one side.
“Cool rock?” He shrugged, waving it back at Percy as the man atop Fern passed by.
“Bleed on it!”
Goreblaster took a moment to consider whether the assistant slash manager was swearing at him in a phrase he was not familiar with. But, it was probably a literal statement - it was, however hard to tell today with how sassy Percy had been.
As the two trolls switched aggro to the contemplative barbarian, and the wounded one lumbered up behind him, Goreblaster ran the back of his hand against Pureheart. His palm would have been a silly rookie mistake - he needed that hand for grabbing stuff.
The blood touched the rune, and immediately a bright light flared up from the magic key.
A swirling vortex of red, amber, and white energy enveloped Goreblaster where he stood - a portal of warmth and immense gravity drew him closer with the trolls all one step away.
Reality spiralled as he fell into the GATEWAY TO HELL.