Chapter 23. Welcome to Lustria
The
Greater Daemon of Tzeentch did not have it in his slippery nature to lead a
frontal assault without need. His fool
rivals were welcome face the wrath of the ogres and a wizard who had mastery of
Light, Dark AND Heavens magic. He would
approach in stealth from the south.
He
cast a blanket of thick fog over a unit of Pink Horrors and sent them across
the marsh. The daemons were bidden to
remain silent, and to suppress the warpflame that suffused them. Beneath the mist they would they would be
able to approach and climb the narrow side stair and seize the head of the
ramp. The Changer of Ways himself would then
swoop in with his vultures wings and claim the head of the undefended slann.
He
heard a burbling cry and saw a flash of blue flame under the mist. So much for stealth.
*****
The
pink horrors' struggles to cross the swamp were made more difficult by their
lord's gift of concealing fog. An
incautious step could plunge them into sucking ooze, spiky pits or icy
waters. The daemons alternately cursed
their lord and breathed prayers of thanks to Tzeentch for their extra limbs as
they dragged themselves out of yet another sinkhole. They finally found firmer footing on a narrow
isthmus of reeds with black water on either side.
The
rearmost daemon began a shriek of surprise that ended with a strangled
gargle. His companions whirled to see
nothing but an expanding circle of ripples.
One of their number leaned over the water to have a closer look for the
straggler.
The
other daemons had a brief vision of flashing teeth and claws as a huge reptile
exploded from the water and snatched the searcher as well. They reflexively released bursts of blue
warpfire, but it was too late. The
monster and his prey had vanished.
"There!"
An
"S" shaped row of spines snaked through the water directly towards
them. In vain they hurled more warpfire. This dissipated on the surface. At the last possible instant, before the
monster would surely collide with their bridge, the spines disappeared below
the surface.
To re-emerge
behind them. With a sweep of its
crocodilian tail, the fearsome creature
smashed another three horrors into the water.
One by one, the floundering daemons were yanked into the depths. Just one resurfaced a moment later, its
broken and torn body floating face down.
"Move!
Move!
Get to that island!" The
remnant scrambled towards refuge on a more substantial island which was
anchored by a rotten tree stump and a large clump of bulrushes.
Only
one of the horrors survived long enough to drag itself out of the swamp and lay
twitching at the Changer of Ways' taloned feet.
It had a light shaft of bamboo standing out from its back. "There were two of them....Two two two
two....." The voice trailed off and
died.
To
do a job properly......
The
Daemon Lord sent out another unit of Pink Horrors, who advanced as a
screen. He glided silently from hillock
to island behind them. At his back were
the rest of his cohort, ready to throw themselves into battle when needed.
A
few of his scouts slid screaming into concealed pits of quicksand, and yet
others trod on barbed spikes which temporarily pinned them in place. He sneered as he stooped to examine one of
the plantings of bamboo stakes. He was a
master of trickery and deception. It was
an insult that someone would attempt to delay him with such a simple trap. It would take more than distraction of attention
and sleight of hand to thwart him.
He
rose. "Move forward!" he
commanded.
Silence. His screen of scouts had vanished without a
trace.
With
a roar of frustration he summoned a Firestorm of Tzeentch. The tornado of warpfire twisted this way and
that, burning the sedges and tall reeds all around. Even if he had not killed his hidden foes in
the conflagration, he had eliminated their cover. If they showed themselves, he would
demonstrate that a Greater Daemon of Tzeentch was a perilous danger. They would fall.
When
he had all but crossed the marsh with no further incident, he paused at the
edge of a wide pool. Opposite him was
his objective, the narrow stair. To his
right was a small island with a misshapen tree stump and a clump of bulrushes. The sausage shaped flower spikes of the
cattails were smoking after his fire storm.
They smelt like....mushroom and potato?
The
tree stump came to life. Golden eyes
glared through a thick crust of cracking mud.
The daemon raised his arms, but before he could complete a deadly
incantation, the golem plucked one of the bulrushes and hurled it at the daemon
lord. It lodged in his thigh. A trivial wound.
The
daemon pulled out the javelin with a grunt and sniffed the blackened paste on
the point. "Poison? Hah!
Did you not know that my god, Tzeentch, has blessed me? I am protected by magic!”
Bubbles
appeared in front of the Greater Daemon's feet.
A giant reptile surged out of the water and struck him a sparking blow
with a golden hammer.
"Yes. Actually, I did know,” Rychek replied.
As
the blow from the Rune Hammer o' Anti Magic took effect, a black stain spread
like tendrils of fungus from the wound on the daemon's thigh. The leg began to jerk and dance. Soon the twitching spread through his whole
body. "Oh, Marlecht lecht
lecht..." His body stiffened
and he fell like a tree trunk, face first into the pool.
As
the Changer of Ways sank from view, the remnant of his force gathered to avenge
him.
Rychek
spent the remainder of his javelins and dove into the water to evade the gouts
of balefire which answered him. Neither
he, nor Mahtis resurfaced.
The
remaining Pink Horrors warily skirted the pool and filed along the narrow strip
of hard earth which led to the stair.
Once
more, skink and kroxigor sprang from the water and planted their feet in front
of the steps, as if to say, "here we stand or fall."
With
no space for more flames, the horrors plunged into combat. Sandwiched between the wall and the deep
pool, they could not gain advantage from their weight of numbers. One by one they were given a lesson in mixed
unit combat.
The
bond the spawnkin shared was beyond that of comradeship. In battle, their ability to anticipate each
other's movements verged on telepathy.
If a daemon chose to direct a blow against the greater threat of the
monster, he would find the darting skink would strike him with an ugly headed
club. The distraction of having an
orcish idol shoved up his nose would give the larger beast time to complete his
hammer blow, crunching through magical wards as easily as flesh and bone.
Even
if the next daemon struck at the skink, the nimble lizard's superior speed
allowed it to parry or evade the blow before it could land. The daemon itself might dodge one or two
swings of the kroxigor's great weapon, but a stomping claw or lashing tail had
equal efficacy against the soft pink flesh.
Although
Rychek and Mahtis had each received minor cuts and burns, the growing heap of
twitching pink bodies seemed to indicate
that they had this battle won.
However,
Tzeentch, the God of Chicanery, had one trick left up his deceptive sleeve.
The
last remaining Pink Horror hurled itself suicidally at Rychek and grappled with
him. Mahtis had a brief impression of a
faceless hooded robe as a bright flash blinded him. When his vision cleared he saw TWO Rycheks
wrestling over the orcish club.
"A
Changeling!" one of them gasped.
"Kill
it!" yelled the other.
Mahtis
held his hammer high and looked from one Rychek to the other in confusion.
"Don't
take the risk, Mahtis! Kill us
both!"
"But
him first!"
Mahtis
lowered the hammer. His brows crumpled in
concentration for a moment.
He
raised the hammer again.
"One
question. Which one of you is Da Bloo
Shaman of Mork?"
One
of the Rycheks released the sceptre as if it was red hot. The other yelled, "I am! I am Da Bloo Shaman of Mork!" He held the sceptre triumphantly in the air.
"Swear
it!"
"What?"
"I
won't believe you unless you swear it."
Mahtis raised the hammer a little higher.
"Yes,
yes! I swear I am Da Bloo Shaman! I swear it in the name of Mork!"
With
a roar of supernatural rage, Gork-on-a-Stick sprouted a pair of colossal green
feet. It stamped repeatedly on the false
shaman until he was a bloody paste. Then
Gork's image returned to its normal shape and size and the sceptre thudded back
to earth.
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