Amongst the hectic sounds of combat, the snapping of the anti-hex charms was like a gunshot. Curses came down like a dark rain, crashing heavily onto the gathered adventurers under the boughs. Writhing maggots conjured by darkcraft bit and burrowed into vulnerable eyes while spurs of bone snapped and broke through flesh. Desperate, panicked fingers pulled and clutched at the oozing wounds as blinded fighters screamed in horror and pain.
The supportive ballad ceased as bards recoiled, their dulcet, heroic tunes halting. In the sudden silence the sound of vile cackling from on high drew attention to the perpetrators of such heinous violence.
A trio of Gobhags clad in wet furs and cloaks of dripping crimson skin cackled down at the gathered adventurers, waving decaying staves and wands of overgrown wood. The more ‘feminine’ — if you could call such monstrosities such — goblins were no less ugly than the rest. Cruel features of twisted teeth and bulging eyes peered out from beneath tall red caps alongside long hooked noses. Around their sharp, bony hips they bore belts of hundreds of gnarled and chewed finger-bones, charms or symbols both.
It was they who’d cursed down upon the adventurers, and even now continued to do so.
Autumn's party narrowly escaped a similar terrible fate, all thanks to her sacrificial charms she’d foisted upon them.
Lances of malevolent hex-light flung down towards the parties from cruel lips and gnarled magics. However, without the element of surprise, most ended up dodged and splashing harmlessly upon the crimson-slicked ground. Canceling magic hastily intercepted those that weren’t, Autumn’s own joining in desperate defense. Purple light of fear clashed with the black-red of malice in a dazzling display of fireworks above the heads of those still battling.
The Gobhags howled and cackled in their goblin tongue as they pitched more chaotic hexcraft downwards; even they did not know what they were casting, only that it was as viscous as they were.
Autumn slung jinx after jinx skyward to counter those coming down, the other mages and casters still standing did likewise. However, a large swath of the bards behind her were still downed by the initial unseen volley and unable to aid her defense, so the burden fell squarely on her shoulders. Around her, the fighters of her party mounted a fierce defense, proactively cutting down the wave of goblins following behind the wave of curses.
The greenskins salivated and gibbered at the sight of wounded prey.
From the nests above, the Gobhags swiveled their cruel attention away from the protected adventurers to the more vulnerable back-lines. Glancing over her shoulder, Autumn took in the bridge. The Duskguard was just now arriving. At their head, Captain Morlech strolled like he was on a leisurely walk. While late, Inferni guards, demon and demoness, nervously marched under the protection of Les Lames Du Crépuscule to join the front and clean up the thinning goblin horde.
An act that had not gone unnoticed.
Harassing hex-bolts streaked overhead in vaster quantities. They crashed into the mounted defense of jinxes, spells, and songs in the open air. While thinned from a tidal wave of absolute violence to a mere stream, hexes and curses still slipped through to crash upon the guardsmen, eliciting more cries of horror and pain.
Like the rolling mire mists, fear hung heavy in the air.
Sweat trickled down Autumn’s neck as she continued casting. Every breath she took sucked in a trickle of that cloying presence of terror into her well of magic. It wasn’t only her that was feeling the pressure; Pyre and Edwyn hurriedly dragged and carried the injured and blinded into shelter against the roots of one of the large trees, hiding them from the downpour of malevolent magic.
Nelva stood in front of Autumn with a ragged appearance; one of her long bunny ears hung lopsided from a hasty healing. An unfortunate strike had almost severed the ear completely. Still, the chevalier resolutely defended the otherwise occupied Autumn from the teeming green tide, trusting in the witch to guard her against the creeping hex rain.
On the goblins came, scurrying over the mounds of their carved and cut dead. Pouring rain turned the pools of crimson blood beneath green feet into long rivers of gore.
Nethlia plowed into them with a blood-crazed roar, scattering them before her might. The berserker’s eyes looked about the carnage with a haze of battle. It filled her mind with only violence; she barely recognized those she fought alongside.
Suddenly, the barrage of spells ceased just as it reached a zenith. Startled, Autumn swung her head heavenward towards the Gobhags. Muttering and mumbling under their foul breath, the Gobhags clustered together over a scroll of skin and sin, performing a profane rite. Words of chaotic wickedness crested in a rising swell that burned Autumn’s ears. “Acha Talla Feial Thulum!” The weave of magic shuddered and shook as if plucked by the very words themselves. An orb of pure blackness appeared in the sundered air at the crescendo of croaky shouts. Slowly, it began expanding. Loose weapons and debris rose into the air towards the sucking vortex; Autumn herself felt a tugging upon her that grew by the second.
“Fuck me! They’ve a Black Sun Scroll! Disrupt it, Quickly!” Captain Gilralei shouted, her face twisting in fear as she witnessed the blackened hole forming.
A fresh wave of pure chaotic magic thrashed against the building orb of sucking nothingness, attempting to disrupt the rite. Autumn leveled her brand of disruption against the weaved magic and its casters as her feet began lifting from the floor. A firm grasp arrested her upwards moment; Nethlia held tight to Autumn’s leg while hooking her pole-hammer into the roots below. Around them, the other scrambled onto the trees and boughs as the intensity of the suction increased; loose weapons and goblin bodies disappeared into the gravity well with disgusting crumpling and squelching noises.
The Black Sun began wavering under the barrage of vicious, chaotic spells and songs. Even so, it persisted. The sucking wind inhaled the desperate screams and calls as adventurers and guardsmen alike held on for dear life. Several unfortunate souls disappeared into the gaping maw with a scream as their grips faltered. Yet, the grip on Autumn’s leg was like steel, refusing to let her vanish into the dark alone. She could feel her bones stretching and popping as the suction grew and grew.
The profane Black Sun sought to eat the entire world.
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Finally, a lucky strike of a cast jinx splashed onto one Gobhag and their concentration broke, unraveling the spell which exploded with an almighty bang and a powerful rush of wind. From whence it was born, a red marble of gore fell.
Autumn yelped as gravity shifted and she tumbled into the awaiting arms of Nethlia. Her pale face erupted into a fiery blush as thick, muscular arms held her and burning eyes glared down at her with aggressive possessiveness. Heat and hard-won sweat blasted off of Nethlia in rolling waves, coating Autumn’s thoughts in a haze of fiery thoughts. She gulped as a bead of sweat ran down the berserker’s taut neck; heat built up in her core as her throat ached with a sudden thirst.
A scream and a gurgle wrenched Autumn’s mind from her intoxicating thoughts and burn of hot fingers on her thighs. Stunned from the jinx and the backlash of the breaking spell, the Gobhags hadn’t noticed the approach of the Umbra assassins. Without ceremony, keen knives opened them up and cast them down to the roots below.
Autumn panted as her heart raced, still cradled in strong and mighty arms. Veins of magic in her arm pulsed with a familiar burn, like a fever it wracked her abused body.
Glancing about, Autumn noted with a grim finality that several faces were missing from the expedition; three Duskguards had disappeared into the hungry maw alongside a single Rain Knight and a pair of Lepus adventurers from the Les Lame Du Crépuscule. There weren’t even bodies left to mourn; their blood, flesh, viscera, and even armor were all crushed together alongside a score of goblins.
At the very least, the spell had wiped out the last living goblinoids. All they needed to do now was to care for the wounded and collect the proof they needed to complete their mission. Oh, and loot the foul fortress.
While the hateful curses and hexes had faltered with the death of their casters, the effects still lingered; blinded eyes wept with bloody tears while unnatural growths of bone or flesh sprouting all over others’ bodies. About them darted the healers, Pyre included, tending to the wounded with potions or prayers. Moans of pain and cries of terror filled the otherwise silent air, the monsters and creatures of the mire scared into hiding by the violent fighting.
Not only was it the denizens of the mire that hid; all throughout the battle, Autumn saw neither hide nor hair of Captain Morlech. Now, as the battle wound down, he emerged proudly like a strutting peacock or a great general. Up and down the roots he pompously walked, sneering at the exhausted adventurers as he went, ignoring the fact he was greasier with sweat than everyone else.
“Heh, couldn’t handle even a measly few goblins, eh?!” he said with a sneer.
Nethlia growled deeply, sending a rumble through Autumn's body that still lay held in her grasp.
The corpulent captain blanched before his face lit up with anger and turned to a stoic-faced Captain Arsit. Behind him loomed a pair of Rain Knights, their armor wet with blood and rain.
“I’d advise you to muzzle your beast, Captain. I’ll be letting your Guild know of your incompetence as soon as we return!”
Captain Arsit stared coldly at the blustering fool of a captain. “I’d be careful if I were you or else you might not make it back home; there are a lot of dangerous beasts in these swamplands. Who knows what you might come across?”
The guard captain somehow turned even redder despite his teal-toned skin.
“Is that a threat?!” he squealed, his honor guard laying their hands on their swords, much to the amusement of the adventurers surrounding them.
“Hmm?” Captain Arsit hummed in mock thought. “No, just a bit of friendly advice.”
In the face of the not-so-subtle threats and mockery, Captain Morlech looked like he’d rupture a vein. Lit up like a strawberry, he stormed out with a tense jaw, clenched fists, and a dark look in his eye towards the water’s edge. Unbeknown to him, a witch kept a keen eye on him; she’d known people like him before back home, the type that’d scheme in the dark after being publicly humiliated. They were those people that’d never had anyone not bow before their wealth, status, or connections.
Autumn reluctantly patted the burly arms that held her. “Um, Nethlia? C-could you put me down now?”
A far calmer Nethlia jolted as if shocked as she realized she was still embracing Autumn like a fragile treasure. Hastily but carefully, she returned Autumn to her aching feet; a sharp twinge of pain bloomed in her ankle upon contact with the roots.
Autumn yelped slightly.
“Are you alright?” Nethlia asked with concern.
“Y-yeah, I think you pulled my ankle a bit.”
Nethlia looked sorrowful. “Sorry.”
Smiling, Autumn turned to the abash berserker and marveled at her shyness. “Don’t be; you saved my life again. A little pain is nothing.” Autumn demonstrated by placing more weight on her complaining ankle, as already the pain had dulled enough to walk on.
A sigh and a smile of relief crested Nethlia’s face, much to Autumn’s quiet delight. However, her joy was dampened by a sight out of the corner of her eye. The rotund Captain Morlech hadn’t disappointed her rather low expectations; at the edge of the waterline, he was muttering and grumbling to his retinue, instructing them to encircle surreptitiously the tired and wounded adventurers. One didn’t have to be a mind-reader to see they were planning to betray them, likely claiming in the aftermath that they were ‘lost’ to the mire.
“It looks like the Duskguard are planning to attack us,” Autumn said to Nethlia who looked over with cold eyes.
“I see it. Stay behind me and stun the knights first if anything untoward happens.”
Autumn nodded as she readied herself. It wasn't just her that noticed the traitorous happenings within the Duskguard; you could say that Captain Arsit had baited this behavior out of the corpulent captain. The adventurers held themselves taut, far more secretive than the plainly nervous guardsmen.
Captain Arsit stood calmly across from Captain Morlech. “So, the carrion feeder reveals its true colors. I’d advise you to think clearly. I doubt all these demons and demonesses wish to die for your vainglory.”
Captain Morlech sneered, bolstered by the fact he stood behind a wall of knights and guards with the water to his back.
“I am thinking clearly. I’ve had to put up with your rabble and trash for far too long and it’s time to put your ilk down like the human-loving dogs you are. No need to worry; I'll make sure to inform your maligned Guild of your valiant deaths or something equally ridiculous when I return. Your kind love that tripe.”
Around the adventurers, the guardsmen tightly clutched their weapons; they’d seen the power and carnage they could unleash and weren’t taking them lightly. Likewise, Autumn held her weapons fast with sweat-slicked palms.
The great fan flora swayed gently in a sudden breeze.
“Now, I’ve wasted enough breath on bottom-feeders. Guards, att—”
A grand jaw, massive in scale, burst forth from the mire in a tremendous spray of filth. Captain Morlech disappeared as prodigious spear-like teeth tore through flesh and bone in a single bite; only a pair of still filled boots remained behind.
Out of the battering waves of the fetid moat, an enormous head rose high into the gloomy sky. Sharp, dark eyes glinted with a malevolent cunning as it surveyed the blood-stained fortress before it, taking in the fright-frozen forms of adventurers and guards. The cresting sail that Autumn, and the others, had mistaken for a giant swamp plant, swayed behind the beast’s head and along its spine as it climbed out of the moat with pounding footsteps that shook the trees.
Up and up it rose.
Murky waterfall poured down its bulk as the dragon-blooded Swamp Tyrant emerged. With a breath soured by gore and sewage, it let out a thunderous roar that echoed dominance throughout the mire; even those in Bogward heard and cowered before the sound.
Autumn would be lying if she said she didn’t pee herself a little.