Red Twilight: A Dawning Of Power

Chapter 21: Indignation

Foraging the armory Jacob produces a large, wooden hammer and a bronze capped staff, Snake finds a set of long, thin knives fantastical in nature similar to what one may imagine to be in Elven weapon or design, Larry a pair of hand axes, El a three-piece rod, Lacerti a gigantic claymore, and Trash finds a pike. Spooky, reawakened to the power of his fists, needs no weapon anymore. Any guns the party still has are bulletless or low on ammo, begging use only if absolutely necessary.

A howl ascends from the lower floors, echoing upward. The party enthusiastically clenches their new tools, excited by the prospect of combat. They form ranks with El, Lacerti, and Pistol taking point while Snake, Larry, and Spooky guard the back.

Curious, Pistol looks over his shoulder to Trash and whispers, "Trash, is Jacob right? Are you a witch?"

Trash swivels from side to side, following the sounds of howls. "Not really, but I am a practicing Wicca with a passion for new-age and cult activity."

Pistol looks mildly disconcerted. "Does your mother know about this?" He stops. "No, never mind. Do you know any practical magic you can show me really quick?"

Trash looks baffled for a moment. "You mean like Rune of protection? Yeah, if you have a symbol on you that's aligned to any power, I can draw you a ruin that will repel its polar." She flips out a razor blade from her dress pocket. "You're not afraid of a little cut, are you?"

Pistol looks dumfounded as he steps out of his position to join her. Trash says, "Put your arms together in front of you, palms in, forearms touching." She begins sketching a spiral on the backs of his arms with a marker. She then cuts around the marks and draws them in, tattooing the image on his arms as Pistol shouts various curses. "In the name of the goddesses, call out to the elements of Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water and beset them to protect you. Place your arms before you and complete the image of the golden spire; the elements will only answer to the children of Gaia and to the warlocks to whom they are in debt."

"How would one know they meet the criteria?" Jacob asks

"Well, if that whip on his hip is magical and we see some fireworks when he activates this, we'll know someone owes him something." Trash explains.

"What's the price of magic?" Jacob continues.

"Either blood, time, or a soul, so be sparing."

Pistol says, "I'm going to pray for blood, I think. That I can afford"

Trash cuts her skirt and ties sections of it around Pistol's arms, covering the prison tattoo she carved into him.

"So, they teach this shit in your school?" Jacob asks.

Trash giggles. "Liberal arts club. I've been a member for two years." She slides the blade and marker back into a hidden pocket.

"That means Jacob was absolutely right. We are together by design." Pistol comes to the shocking realization that, if not everyone, at least they have a purpose in this world.

The door to the room slides open, revealing to them the great temple in which they had been traveling. Everyone turns their attention on the door to observe the new terrors that have yet to come with anticipation. The walls seem to come alive as humanoid insects crawl along them. The beasts within have long, exaggerated fingers and arms, stretched bodies with skeletal tails, bony shells, and skin that glistens like metal. They creep toward the party, rattling and hissing, rolling like a swarm around the corridor as they approach. The party observes that these creatures lack eyes, ears, or noses—only a mouth exists, protruding from the tops of their ovular heads. They emanate a stench comparable only to petroleum gas. They are seemingly nothing more than thralls of men twisted beyond the point of return

El tucks his rod under his arm, taking a bladed stance. "They're coming," he announces.

Everyone snaps to attention, taking their proper places in the ranks. One humanized ant flips down from the ceiling, landing on all fours. It runs like a rabbit, hand over foot, and it whistles a bat-like shriek. Lacerti slams his giant blade into the ground through the Thrall, causing the creature to implode in a mess of green-blue goo. Half a dozen more pounce in to replace the leader of the pack.

Tails flail, jaws snap, claws rear. Steel and bone collide, crash through and through, blood-frenzy rages. Each warrior takes their turn smashing the Thralls to a sizzling mass. Thralls fall from the ceiling into the fray. Larry pulls Trash and Ashley out of the monsters' grasps as he steps forth himself. The nearest insect rears its claws, pointing at Larry. As if the bug was moving in slow motion, the man pivots around the beast and smashes it to the floor with his hand axe.

Larry laughs, proud of himself. A second Thrall jumps at him, taking advantage of his distraction. The Thrall lands on Larry's back with all four legs on him. Larry calls for help as it moves to bite him. "God damn son of a bitch!"

Spooky breaks formation to help Larry; he wraps his arms under the insect's midsection and lifts it into the air. Jacob brings his hammer down on the inhuman beast, shattering its skull. The three of them recognize each others' contributions to the combat then return to their posts.

El wraps his three-piece rod around another's head and shoulder throws it, crushing its neck and spine. Like Spartans fighting Persians, the party demonstrates overwhelming power. Even Trash has the opportunity to impale a monster and judo throw it before the monsters lose their nerve and turn tail.

Filled with wrath, the group storms the bottom floors of the pyramid, lighting fires as they go. Minotaurs, Harpies, and Nagas flee at their sight. Yagoloth and Belroges obstruct their path shortly, but quickly find themselves cowering before Jacob or at the mercy of Snake's and Lacerti's blades. All seems to go well as the humans charge headlong down two more flights of steps, slaughtering and burning anyone or anything in their path.

They proceed with ease until one lone warrior obstructs their path—a tall, thin man with narrow, dangerous eyes that shimmer evilly. Brilliantly feathered wings sprout from his back, and he flicks his long, dark hair away from his face.

Lacerti rushes the tiny-looking man, the others expecting him to score an easy kill. El calls for him to stop, but it's too late. A telekinetic wall freezes Lacerti in place, and projecting his will, the strange warrior flings Lacerti over his head and far across the large arena-like floor, smashing an obelisk along the way.

Larry whispers with Jacob as the others freeze at the bizarre sight of Lacerti flying. "Is that him …?"