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There was nothing for it. Unless she could get close to the monster, she was next to useless.
Beyond conscious thought, she calculated—one stride, two, three, four, launch off the banister, spring off the branch— For one terrifying second, she sailed through open air—the creature was too massive for her to miss, surely it had to be too massive to miss—before impacting with what might be considered its shoulder.
She scrabbled at its spiky chitin, pulling herself over and past its torso on sheer adrenaline, peripherally noting an almost spectral silver thread that seemed to connect the crown of its head to the swirling void that had opened in the sky.
Now that its terrible face was behind her, she felt the familiar thrum of magic through the dagger still clutched in her hand. She plunged it down—only to have it deflected by the beast’s leathery skin. Frustrated, she drove her other hand down in a fist, feeling more than hearing the satisfying crunch of something rupturing under the surface. Twice more she struck down with her fists, once more connecting with some point of weakness.
Even the dragons their troupe had fought really had nothing on this thing, whatever it was, for size. As it glided effortlessly through the air, like butter on a hot skillet, Lua’niira had little trouble maintaining her footing on its back (or tail? it was very hard to tell). From her vantage point behind its grotesque face and pinching claws, it was almost impossible to discern who it was going after next, but from the yelps she guessed it must be Trifle.
Gritting her teeth, she steadied herself and gripped her blade tighter, lifting it to attack again just as four ghostly swords crashed into the creature from somewhere to the right. Karash. That's good. Almost simultaneously, the flash and burn of Trifle’s holy magic burst somewhere beneath the creature’s belly, (Good, she's alright) and three sharp thuds from the left indicated Travis’ crossbow bolts finding their mark, a fourth whizzing just wide past Lua’niira’s shoulder. Reliable as always.
Regaining her balance, she stabbed down, and with both hands on the hilt this time the blade finally pierced the dreadnought’s hide. Just as quickly as she’d plunged the blade, she pulled it back, landing one-two-three punches in the same spot that now gushed viscous black ichor. It roared with pain and frustration from the onslaught on all sides, a deafening and guttural and otherworldly echo rattling the courtyard.
It turned, maybe to try and throw her off, maybe to swing around at Dunkel again, when a crisp and deafening bang rang out from directly beneath them. Wait, when did he get here? The monster’s roar peaked, then almost gurgled out as Fel’rekt’s bullet pierced its heart, drow poison coursing powerfully throughout its entire gargantuan body.
With a sound like the shattering of a thousand windows, Lua’niira saw the gossamer thread from its head to the void splinter and break.
The void portal winked out, leaving the sky, which had been torn open to some awful Beyond, almost suspiciously clear.
And the monster, which had held its massive form aloft so effortlessly, crashed to the ground, as if gravity itself, tired of being defied, had yanked it out of the sky like a petulant child.
As it impacted with the earth, time, which had felt frozen as the creature fell, rushed to catch up. Lua’niira leapt, dodging the sudden hail of rubble as well as the aftershocks that rippled through the creature’s flesh, turning a backflip in the air to avoid being impaled by a branch from the tree she’d jumped from earlier, landing lightly on both feet on what had (not long ago) been a neatly manicured lawn.
She cast her gaze over the ruined courtyard—chunks of debris, bodies of guards, the body of the behemoth itself, and there! A flash of white hair and charcoal skin—he was getting to his feet, thank Eilistraee, pistol in hand, wiping blood from his mouth as he looked up and saw her. Which meant, she realized, that he wasn’t seeing the six-armed monster coming up behind him.
She ran to him, past him, plunging her knife into the insectoid’s chest, as her left hand came up in an uppercut to its jaw, knocking its head backwards so hard that its spine snapped. She withdrew her blade, letting its corpse crumple at her feet. Just as she set her weight to turn to Fel’rekt, the insect thing’s duplicate stepped up to take its place, and without second thought she turned her momentum into a roundhouse kick, clipping it in the face with her heel.
Wordlessly, Fel’rekt darted around behind it, drawing his own sword as he flanked it with her. He slashed through the muscles in its back, causing it to spit and hiss in anger and pain. Just as it raised its arms to attack Lua’niira, two of Travis’ crossbow bolts sunk deep into its skull, one through each eye. It dropped like a stone, leaving Lua’niira and Fel’rekt facing one another, breathing heavily.
Somewhere in the sky, Dunkel yelped as another six-armed humanoid hung from his leg and broom, but the sound was muffled by the blood pounding through Lua’niira’s ears. She took a step towards Fel’rekt, brushing her hand over his chest wordlessly, before her brain finally processed that a monster remained alive.
Dragging her eyes from Felrekt’s, she took stock of the aerial situation. Too high to jump, darts might reach, but realistically Dunkel’s and Travis’ attacks would be far more effective. A groan from the ground caught her attention, and she remembered the bodies of the guards—perhaps some of them were alive? She darted off, leaving Fel’rekt watching in bewilderment as she sprang from one body to the next, the first dead, second dead, third dead—but the fourth breathing. She cried out for Trifle, hoping the cleric was within earshot, as she applied pressure to the deep laceration in the older guard’s arm. He would live, he was going to live, he had to live.
Somewhere above, General Sabine’s crossbow bolt ended the shrieking of the monster that had attached itself to Dunkel, and it hit the ground with a satisfying crack.
There were others, no time to wait. Lua’niira tied the guard’s arm in a makeshift tourniquet, then rushed over to the next. Dead. The next? Breathing—cuts to the face and arms, more serious bleeding from her side, Lua’niira shook her head, using her already blood-soaked hands to apply pressure to the wound. The woman cringed and cried out at the touch, but Lua’niira held her still until finally (a count of five, but it felt like forever) Trifle hurried through with healing potions. The goblin girl had found two more living guards amongst the sprawling bodies, and the six surviving guards followed in her wake, tending to and carrying off the four revived guards.
After their flurry passed on, Lua’niira was left kneeling, staring blankly into empty grass. She’d done what she could, she reminded herself. Unbidden, the image of the townspeople scattering from the Hall of Justice jumped to her mind, followed by a flash of horribly vivid imagination as to what must have happened to those unable to escape. Her vision blurred and darkened, and she drove her fingernails into her palms to keep herself present. Somewhere above them, General Sabine was barking orders, but Lua’niira was only dimly aware of it.
Focus, Lu. Find five colors—
- Red was easiest: the guards’ blood coating her hands.
- Green: the grass, the jade grip of her dagger.
- Blue: her own pants, or they had been at one point—she’d have to come back to that one.
- Grey: the dust settling over everything.
- Pink: her sleeves?
Sure, that’s five, okay, move on.
Find four things you can hear—
- the crunch of footfall though gravel,
- a stranger’s voice repeating in wonder, “You’re heroes, who are you?”,
- Trifle stammering all their names, their real names, and—
“You okay?” she looked up to find Fel’rekt standing next to her. Blood smeared his face and shirt, but there—in his eyes was the blue she’d been looking for. Meditation had never been her strong suit, but she’d always known center when she’d found it. His voice, his eyes, his hand outstretched—the world clicked back into place.
She exhaled, finding herself nodding, wiping her hands on the grass. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay. You?” She took his proffered hand, letting him help her to her feet. To her surprise, he didn’t immediately drop her hand, and she found she’d really rather not let go yet either.
He nodded, almost as if to brush her question off, but she looked at him more intently. “It fell on you, didn’t it?” He smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I just wasn’t quick enough, I guess.”
She shook her head. “You got it though,” she offered bracingly, leaning in to nudge his shoulder with hers.
His smile softened as he agreed, “We got it.” He squeezed her hand for emphasis.
She returned his smile. “We did.”