A Crimson Shore 30.3 Areia Rides a Dragon (Finally)

It sounded like a whistle. Then, another.  Getting closer.  And then there was a little poof, followed by another poof. The second poof was closer than the first. From above her, she thought.  Not that Iricah could see it though. For Iricah couldn’t move. Not even her eyes.

The only thing Iricah’s wide eyes could do was stare at the monstrous form she knew as  Wrath. The beast filled the air around her, with form, with motion, with suffocating dread. Before her, was every foul fear she ever had. It was massing power, and pure hatred, a searing hate burning her flesh, her very soul.  The thing rose before her, confident, exuding triumph and rage. It radiated a fury that took away every thought she could ever hope to have.  Except for pure fear.

The goddess was a mountain of tissue and flesh piled and coiled on one another.  The form twisted, like enormous snakes, weaving in a solid yet undulating mass. The fibers stretched into a shape altogether monstrous with arms and legs, and a head that was constantly and horribly in motion.  Twin devil eyes stared out from the coils, as if a burning hatred from thousands of tortured souls was buried within.  The thing reached out for Iricah now.  Talons, a curved line of swords, lashed outwards. The goddess had her.  Now she would finish her.  Iricah never had a chance, not against this. The others, there in her bag, would never know what had happened. They would simply die along with her. Wrath would have it’s way now.

A would be hero?” It hissed, and it’s voice, like a drone of cicadas drilled itself into her mind. Iricah wanted to scream and she couldn’t.

“A certain fool you are Bard. You thought you would find your past, you can’t even find your future, slave!” The malevolent voice garbled in echoes outward from the whisping coils of flesh that formed it’s devil-head.  “You are mine now. You have always been lesser, lesser than I!!! All of you have been.  You thought you could hide from me? Hide in these sheep? And now I have you. Again.”

The demon’s giant form strode forward through the chamber and it’s claws found Iricah’s flesh. Iricah watched helplessly as the talons ripped open her arms and the skin of her shoulder. Blood ran from her wounds. The pain struck her so hard she would surely have collapsed, but she couldn’t do even that. She felt the last few breaths into her lungs, while the rest of her stood unable to move. Stunned.  Petrified from the goddess’s spell, there was no answer her lips could mutter anyway. She would die without a final word, skewered like one of Thrak’s jungle meals. “Just like you once were.  I have found you, at last.” The treacherous words rang in the chamber. “And you will now die.”

The words rang in the chamber. The meaning piercing her heart just as terribly as the rest of her now was.

There was nothing more to think. Nothing more to know. She was everything she ever feared.  And then, unbelievably, like a feather falling from a sky that wasn’t there, drifted a small, white object. There it was, floating back and forth in front of her eyes.

Before her, before her foe, drifted the last thing in the world, she would ever have thought she’d see. First, she saw a bloated pair of men’s underwear. Upside down, turned into some kind of makeshift parachute. Lines of string were attached to it in some miniature fashion and attached to those strings was the hairy little body of Ding. His arms were outstretched, the hair on his chest, armpits and crotch blowing off to the side.

Behind him, in quite the similar fashion, also tied to a pair of men’s underwear, was the second. It was Dong.

Iricah turned her eyes as much as she could to follow the little fiends, and watched them fall to the floor.  As Dong flew by he blew her a kiss and was thus distracted enough to bang into Ding. Their strings intertwined and the little duo fell to the floor in a heap, inside the underwear parachutes.

“Who turned the lights out?!” Ding called.

“Ding, move towards the yellow you damnable fool.  Never go to the brown side!”

A thunderous boom resonated from above like a gigantic gong was struck there. Wrath’s talons withdrew themselves from Iricah, stopping just at Iricah’s throat. The demon before her looked up to see a steely dark form streaking down among rocks and bricks themselves falling from the sky.  In just that instant, she was distracted just enough so that Iricah too could pull her eyes upwards.

From what was once the dome to this chamber, a sliver of light shone like a beacon. Behind the dome, beyond it, a moonlight shone from the now gaping hole that had made. Because of the light, a figure could be seen.  This though was no small creature.  This was something massive.  As large as the beast before her. Mouth agape, it’s own talons outstretched. It was a dragon, ancient and worn. And on it’s back was a silver haired elf who was smiling, holding her curved daggers above her.

“Areia?!!!!” Iricah screamed in her mind.

The voice of the wiley rogue resonated around the chamber, echoing again and again. Behind it, like a booming orchestra drum came the roar of the beast she rode upon.  Iricah’s eyes went wide, watching the streak of steel speed to the floor below. And long before she got there, and long before the battle began, Iricah heard the menacing laughter of the only person she knew in this world who could giggle at a time like this.

“Come on Abraxas! Let’s show our angry friend a good time!”




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