inspire-indiana The Rat in the Pit III
The Rat in the Pit III
The Rat in the Pit III
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Milos of Crotonia poured rage of both man and beast into his fallen foe. Bone cudgels-crashed into the knight with the force of catapult stones, yet - to his mounting frustration - she would not die.
Her armour should have caved in!
Her body should have broken!
He could have sworn it had!
The cracking of bones reached his pointed ears, but would soon be followed by flashes of sweetness within the caustic stench of vitriol. She continued resisting his onslaught. The rage of the beast rose in his mind, threatening the reason of the man within. Die! he hissed from twelve maws. Die! Why will you not die!?
Bang! Bang! BANG!
The nimbus of vitriol ate his body with every blow, but the resilience of the curse countered it. His eyes narrowed, noting her movements were weakening. Perhaps he was dazing her. Perhaps he was overwhelming her cursed magic.
It did not matter.
So long as he could keep her pinned long enough for Lycundars children to finish the rebels, they could all fall upon her, tear free that cursed winged helmet and crush that wretched skull-
WHAM!
Such was his focus that he did not hear his rebelling pets rush.
The sabre-toothed tiger slammed into him, throwing him off the knight and sending him stumbling back. The hunting cat wrapped all four paws around the lycanthrope, raking deep trenches into his flesh. Its massive body blocked his vision, and a sharp pain shot through Milos from fangs piercing deep into his shoulder.
His lupine maw howled in agony, but his unnatural mouths howled in rage.
Wretch! Traitorous wretch! the twelve tongues hissed. After all I have done for you!? Die with them!
The man within cried out, wishing to re-capture his pet, but the wolf was long finished with patience. Growling, it focused on his skeleton, envisioning it flowing into a wicked shape.
Something swift.
Something sharp.
Scccchhhhnk!
The cat yowled in agony.
Spikes of bone - supernaturally sharp - erupted from Milos flesh, piercing the tigers fortified hide and digging deep into its body. The wolf within roared in triumph as the felines hot blood sprayed over his fur, even as the man cried out in consternation. The Sacred Alpha reached up.
The clubs of bone rippled.
Sscchhrp.
They split into vast, bone-sheathed maws - an odious cross of lupine and crocodilian shape - which opened to bite the cat in twain.
An enraged chitter sounded from beside him.
Schnk.
His body went cold.
And burned.
Both man and beast within panicked as silver slid deepinto his side.
His howl shattered the air and he cast away the titanic hunting cat in fury. The poor beast landed in a bloody heap on the sand as Milos whirled on his tormentor. Blood poured from his wound; the beast within retreated from the bite of silver.
With a growl, he warped the flesh around the injury to seal it shut. The bleeding stymied, but his wrath did not. You! Of course it would be you!
His wolfs eyes narrowed on the familiar rat-woman.
The bone maws on his arms split open and ground their fangs.
They would be tasting rat instead of cat.
This was a mistake, Wurhi scrambled back from the warping wolf-devil.
Milos stalked forward with fangs bared and human-like mouths whispering a susurrus of grudges. The unnatural jaws that were his arms - amalgamations of lupine maws and scorpion claws - chewed the air and shed long lines of spittle. His form rippled like a lakes surface gripped in a storm. To his side, the sabre-toothed tiger groaned as his brown fur washed crimson. The Zabyallan winced. She had grown fond of the beast, yet there was little she could for him now.
Her own life needed saving.
She turned to dart around Milos left, but he swept after her with unbridled speed. She tried for the right, but he shadowed her still. She swallowed; the bastard was far swifter than either his beast-man or Berard.
Her mind raced while her heart roared in her ears.
Shit! Shit!
What could she do!? Sand in the eyes? No, he was too swift: hed kill her while she sought a handful. Closing in? No, he was too swift: hed kill her on the way in. Throwing her sword? No, that was the only thing that would hurt him!
Think, Wurhi! Think! her mind shrieked. Wait! The Hawk! If he could-
Behind you!
Whish!
A bronze spear sailed over her shoulder.
Thmp.
It bounced off the Sacred Alphas chest.
It clattered to the sand. Both the Rat and cult leader stared down as it rolled along the ground. I tried, Rat! the Hawk cried behind her.
But there was no helping it now. Both her hands were ruined. His body renewed by the breath. And he had her cornered.
She was done.
Beyond Lycundars visage, Cristabels golden light shone in the dark of the cyclops cavern, growing closer. Wurhi wheezed bitterly. The saint was as resilient as a cockroach, but she would never make it back to save her.
Icommend you Milos panted. You have showna great will to surviveyou would have become a magnificent agent of both meand He Who Consumes Himself
Wurhi snarled and backed away. No! She was not done! As long as she was not dead, she was not done!
The golden light drew closer. The shadow of Lycundars statue lengthened as the saint reached its base. Cristabel climbed out from behind it and took in the battlefield at a glance. Her eyes narrowed.
You wont make it, Wurhi thought. You cant. Not before he kills me. If I dont think of something, you had better chop him into tiny little-
To her surprise, the saint withdrew around the statue.
Was she running?
Impossible.
To thinka simple thief brought our pack to its knees, the Sacred Alpha whispered, half-to himself. Undoneby a mere rat in a pit. Remarkable. Know this, rat, you will live on in my thoughts. though, I suppose that will be small comfort to you.
She could not run anymore. Her body was spent.
He loomed above her now, with claws glinting.
Out ofregard. I will make it quick. Farewell, Wurhi of Zabyalla.
CRNCH!
Something shifted.
Something impossibly large.
Something never meant to shift.
Aaaaaaaaaaargh! Cristabels voice roared with titanic exertion.
Wurhi blinked. Behind Milos, shadows swayed around Lycundars snarling maws. The light around them waswas
She gasped.
No, she was wrong.
The light was not shifting around the statue.
The statue was moving: tilting forward as incredible strength lifted its base from behind. Milos spun about and froze in horror. N-no! Lycundar! Remove your vile hands from him, servant of the Weeping God! Stop! Do not further desecrate his image!
In his shock, his full attention narrowed on the vision of his gods effigy dangerously tilting forward. That was all Wurhi needed.
Schnk!
Her head darted forward, teeth gripping her blade, and clumsily, drove the sword into his ankle. With a violent twist of her neck, she tore his tendon asunder.
Aaaaaaargh! Milos wailed and fell to one knee, but the Zabyallan sprang upon him, slashing his other calf. Before she could do more, he gave her a backward swipe that knocked her away, sending her stumbling out of his reach.
Her lips pulled back from her bloody sword as if to smile.
Thmmmmmm. Crk. CRK!
Stone crumbled as Lycundars statue tilted further forward. Cries of alarm echoed through the arena.
Wurhi hobbled the hell away.
Howling with frustration, Milos tried to drag himself to his feet, but his hamstrung legs could not comply: their wounded flesh returning to that of mortal man. Panic shone in his eyes as he desperately willed his legs to create tendons while dragging his body forward. Stone sheared, finally giving way in a deafening roar. Lycundars fearsome heads rushed toward the arena floor; his shadow deepened over the cult leader.
Schrrrp!
Unnatural tendrils stretched across his wounds, forming new bonds. Control returned to his legs.The Sacred Alpha sprang up on all fours.
He tensed for a leap.
BOOOM! SPLATTER!
Milos of Crotonia was crushed beneath the weight of his own gods image.
Lycundars heads shattered in the moonlight, seeming to cry out in loss.
CRK! CRK! CRASH!
The arena floor buckled inward and the earth roared as rock split asunder.
It imploded.
WHOOOOOOSH!
The river rushed forth, blasting apart stone as it fled its pressurized prison. Lycundars crumbling image - splattered with the twitching form of the Sacred Alpha - toppled into the rapids and disappeared within the rivers raging belly.
Thus the ancient image of He Who Consumes Himself was, indeed, consumed.
CRACK!
Fissures crawled through the arena. The mountain shook. Pebbles and stone dust rained from the ceiling, giving way to larger stones and boulders that plummeted to dash themselves on the crumbling floor below.
All within the cavern shrieked in panic.
By all the gods and demons, the bloody mountains coming down! Merrick cried.