"How soon until we have them?" Mapleox's voice is eerily unnatural, like a creaking forest void of life. Her body is equally eerie. Willowy branches cover a bark face that is more or less a plank of wood with slits opening for a set of eyes and a mouth that glows with an amber hue. The elongated body is a gross mix of a wolf and weasel, causing it to be long and tall, covered in oily green fur. The voice, body, and mask all pause Taren's response.
"We will have the shell cracked and the spider and islander delivered any moment now." Silently he curses the shakiness of his words. He is the culmination of generations of careful breeding. His entire embodiment is that of power. Shadow pours from his body, creating a daunting armor, and held lightly in his hands are great swords that break the ground when he lets them rest. With all his size… power, he can't get his voice to perform properly in the presence of this dryad.
"Any moment now…?" He nearly jumps at the question. Once again set off guard.
"In the next ten minutes Hanger Maplelox." He tries to instill more confidence in his response. Confidence that never should have abandoned him in the first place.
The wooden shell of a face raises a single eye. The gimmick shouldn't be intimidating, yet he doesn't feel comfortable standing directly in front of the gaze. He can hold the tension no longer and caves into the need to please his superior.
"They will be delivered at once, Hanger Maplelox. I will see to it myself." He receives no response and moves away from the uncomfortable tension toward the shell of pale gray bone. He must give the two awakened foes some credit. He cannot believe they are still alive. And that they managed to kill his sister so quickly. She is going to be furious when she returns.
He pushes away his trepidation and walks swiftly to the glowing shell, his massive swords resting on his shoulders. As he gets closer, his minions quit casting their elements. Silence fills the air in anticipation. This is his moment to impress one of the Hangerions. He is not going to blow it.
Methodically, he stretches his arms and cuts through the air with a few practice swings. The swordsman trapped inside is good. He is not Shadow Sword good, though. Silence distorts from his slashes. He finishes his preparation with a crack of his neck and one last stretch.
Shadow absorbs into his body, enhancing his strength and swiftness. His connection to his minions is further strained, but his rule is absolute. With the power pumping through his channels, he feels equal to Maplelox. Power flows into his blades.
Feeling the apex of his power, he brings his might down on the shell. A thunderous crack echoes off the mountain, only to collide with another crack. The shell is all but shattered. With one more tumultuous swing with Destroyer, the shell explodes with pale gray energy.
Taren is pushed back; his skin is covered in shrapnel that manages to get past his shadowy armor. Destroyer is not blown back with him. Pale gray mana clouds his vision as blood drips from his brow. Pulling the large bone shrapnel from his face, he tosses the shard to the ground and covers it in spit. When the dust settles, and the mana dissolves, he can see the result of the blast zone distinctively.
Dead bodies ring the perimeter of where the dome used to be. The bone shards that didn't find a home inside of his soldiers cover the ground. The explosion is a shock. The lack of two bodies is infuriating. More than that, a second shell is rolling down the hill with Destroyer stuck in it.
His blood boils in rage. "Get them!" He doesn't wait for confirmation and leads the charge down the hill.
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****
Hell in a Shell is living up to every part of its name. The roll down the mountainside is torment. My head is spinning, not because it is full of good thoughts. Instead, it is paying the price for an incredibly awful idea. The fact that Fen and I agreed to this plan shows that we lack the proper foresight to make any decision. Blow yourself off the hillside is an excellent idea…
We roll hopefully into newfound freedom at a sickening speed. Sudden impact stops our descent, causing my head to smash into the shell before I fall out completely. Luckily, the ball of Fen is still complete and balled. This part of my plan is where there's a large question mark. Fen should be safe; I just need to transport her safely back up the hill.
Before I can form any more thoughts, vomit forces itself out of my mouth unpleasantly. Fortunately, I have enough whereabouts to not get the vomit on my shoes or Fen ball. A massive sword is lying on the ground close to the vomit amidst my broken shell.
The blade easily outsizes my body and has remarkable girth to it. I pick up the dark sword and feel the shadow energy inside. Besides being large and remarkably sharp, the shadow blade is a disaster of a sword. The imbalance of the blade alone makes it practically unwieldy. However, there's no denying it's made of good material, so I quickly absorb it.
The next thing I notice is the stampede of demons rushing down the hill. It should have been the first. Discombobulation is a real… well, it's something unpleasant. Right, what to do next. I can either keep rolling Fen away, stay and fight, or roll her back up the hill while fighting.
It's not practical, but I choose plans "B" and "C." I will stay and fight, inching my way back to the spiders on the hill. Hopefully, I can get to them in time.
Bo is summoned, and I begin firing charged arrows at the incoming swarm. I target the denser parts of the pack and let the arrows and mana do the rest. Numerous demons fall, only to be trampled on by the herd behind them. I keep firing until the shadowy host is too close. Once again, I draw my blade and cut through mana and bodies.
I'm in a haze of blood and guts. The corpses are piling around me. We have made little progress up the hill and are still surrounded. I sense the boot kicking my back just before I feel it. My body is launched forward, separating me from Fen. My body contorts to avoid the spears and swords in front of me. Once I gain my footing, I quickly remove the immediate threats and turn to face the Booter.
"Where is my sword?" Booter, the giant mad cow seeping shadow asks? His violent voice stills the air, and there's a respite from combat for a moment. I try to shuffle nearer to Fen, only for Booter to implant himself directly in my way. Stupidly, I jolt to the left and rapidly move right to get around him. The bull doesn't bite.
Peace talks, it is.
"You lost a sword?" I pour all the empathy and understanding I can into the words. "I hate losing stuff, memories, seasonings, arguments, and especially special swords. I assume it was special. Right?"
Booter is slow and uncertain in his response. "It belonged to my father and was passed on to me when I slayed him in combat." I'm shocked he's telling me this, to be honest. Perhaps my social skills have grown since I am no longer alone. Regardless, I haven't a clue what happened to Booter's sword and will lie until it becomes true.
"I have no idea what happened to your sword. Did you lose it in your chase for me down the hill?"
"Destroyer was stuck in the shell when you rolled away."
"I didn't see it when I emerged from the tomb. Perhaps it was discarded on the way down. Did you check the hill?" It's probably not good that I keep referencing the hill. But maybe the repetition will convince him of the truth.
"You lying bastard. I sense the bond to my sword radiating from you." The shadow barbarian responds with fierce anger."
"Oh. Damn. Don't suppose you want to search the hill with me just in case?"
"I will rip it from your corpse." The knight brandishes his lone shadow blade charging toward me only to disappear.