Tired Of Death

Agnes hummed to herself as she put away the cream. She had only used it once since they had left, but her skin felt so much better already. Maybe she hadn't eaten, but meeting Dreth and his crew had lifted her spirits.

Then she heard it. An echo. Someone was coming. This must be her lucky week! Food!

She moved through the darkness towards the sound of approaching footsteps. Her snakes hissed in anticipation. She didn't need to see where she was going, over the years she had become familiar with every little nook and cranny of her domain. Her prison.

That was unusual. The intruder hadn't stopped to light the torches. Ah well, sometimes they missed them.

The tread grew louder, and she sent some of her pets off around the corner to greet the guest.

The footsteps didn't pause, and there were some distressing squishing sounds. Not promising. Agnes backed up and grabbed her torch, lighting it just as the large figure came into view.

"Gaze upon death..." she started, before fully comprehending her visitor. "Oh shit."

Large cold fingers grabbed her neck and lifted her like a toy into the air. Her hair bit at the intruder angrily, but were totally ignored.

"Where are they?" Red eyes glowed.

"Ackk," responded the Medusa, gesturing wildly at her throat.

The hand released her and she fell to the floor coughing.

"Where are they?" the deep voice could best be described as 'gravelly'. "Tell me and live."

"Live? This is life is it?" Agnes spat, her anger rising, even in her terror. "Do your worst. I'm cheering for them! Finally one of us is doing something!" She waved her fist.

The intruder looked at her for a moment and then the huge hand shot out with a speed that belied its size. Agnes was grabbed by the head, the cold hard embrace crushed several of her hair-snakes, and green blood dripped down her face.

She felt herself being lifted off the ground and screamed, clawing futilely at the solid grip that held her in the air. The creature squeezed. She could hear a cracking sound as her skull split under the pressure, pieces of bone penetrated her brain matter. Her eyes were slowly forced out of her head, blood and brain tissue oozing from the sockets and out of her nose.

As the Medusa breathed her last, a strange sound emanated from her mouth. In her final seconds alive, she laughed. Agnes welcomed release.

~ * ~

The dark walls of the entrance dripped with slime, echoing through the passage as it hit the rough stone floor. A flickering torch dimly illuminated the scene, casting eerie shadows that seemed to almost possess a life of their own, as if some otherworld demon was trying to cross over.

A muscular figure hunched over, his black studded leather armor creaking under the strain. He put his sword to one side as he frowned, large yellow canines dripped with saliva as he muttered under his breath. Reaching out with a large hand tipped with sharp black fingernails, he plucked a small item from the creature next to him.

He took a deep, rasping breath and spoke.

"Look, all I'm saying is: that if the square root was valid if x over pi equals z, when z was a factor..." Harry drew various markings on the wall with the piece of chalk, trying to ill.u.s.trate his point, but Herbert interrupted him.

"No no no! You're forgetting to factor in Hubert's Theorem, which postulates that the variance of z can be attributed to..."

"Wait! Did you hear that? Someone's coming!"

The two guards quickly stood up, grabbing their weapons as they did so. Herbert hastily erased evidence of their mathematical discussion, just as a small group approached from down the main corridor.

The two growled and put on unfriendly expressions as the party stopped in front of them. The lead figure seemed to be a zombie.

"What you want?" grunted Harry.

The undead creature looked back over his shoulder. "Boss! There are a couple of Orcs here blocking the way. Do you want to speak to them?"

One of the figures stepped forward, pushing his way to the front. He seemed to be a tall thin human, though a very pale one, wearing a long dark robe with a sword strapped to his side.

"Orcs. You're a bit far in aren't you? I thought Orcs were strictly low level stuff."

"We Black Tribe Orcs. Greater Orcs us," Herbert said, slapping his armored c.h.e.s.t. "What you want?"

"I'm Dreth, Guardian of the Undead way. I wish to enter."

"No one pass. We guards," responded Harry.

"Yes yes, I'm sure you have your orders and all that, but we would just like to speak to your leader, we won't be a bother," said Dreth, frowning slightly.

"You not pass. This Black Orc territ.. terri... land," Harry said, hefting his large and wicked looking mace meaningfully.

"Look, we are workers of the dungeon ourselves, all we wish to do is speak to your King."

"Me don't know..." Herbert seemed to be wavering.

Harry had no such qualms. "You not pass. King says no one pass alive."

"Ah, well, you should let us through then, because we aren't alive, are we now?" Dreth raised a thin eyebrow.

Harry paused for a moment as he evaluated this loophole.

"What about him? He look alive," said the Herbert, pointing his sword at Redthorne.

"Well, he does, that's true. But er, he's a zombie as well, just fresher than most, that's all."

Harry waved his mace again. "Me guard! You not pass. Go away, or me beat you urg..."

He was cut off as the tall being plucked the helmet off Harry with one hand and grabbed his head with the other, brutally slamming it into the stone wall behind. Sparks bounced around in front of Harry's eyes as the sharp pain seemed to reverberate inside his skull.

He roared and raised his mace, but the creature stepped inside his swing and brought a bony knee up between his legs, crushing the genitals with a powerful blow. Agony lanced through the Orc, and he screamed as blood dripped down his t.h.i.g.h.

He tried to back away, but the guardian stepped closer and head-butted his nose, causing flashes of light to streak across his vision. Before he could do anything else foul tasting fingers grasped his mouth, upper and lower, pulling his jaw open with a strength that Harry, for all of his mighty thews, could not match. He yanked at the undead's skinny arms in a vain attempt to free himself as bones begin to splinter. There was a grinding noise as the attacker twisted and wrenched the lower portion of his face off. Blood and mucus ran down Harry's throat, and he spluttered and gargled, speckling Dreth with red.

The Orcs' knees began to buckle as the beast in human form wrapped its arms around his neck.

"I don't deal with underlings." The dry words were whispered into his ears, just before Dreth twisted violently, and everything went black...

~ * ~

"Black Orc down! Black Orc down!" shouted Percy, doing a little jig and waving his arms about.

Dreth glared at the remaining guard, hissing in annoyance. "Now. Are you going to let us in to see your leader, or do I have to really get angry?"

"Y...y...y... this way sir," stammered Herbert.

"Finally, some co-operation." Dreth frowned as the guard began to turn away. "Haven't you forgotten something?"

"W...w...what?" asked the Orc.

Dreth pointed to his side, in which Herbert's sword was embedded.

"Oh, s...sorry sir! How did that get there? I will have it out in a just moment." The guard pulled at the weapon, which slid out with a dull pop. "There, right as rain."

"What happened to 'Me Grug, you bad'?" asked Cuthbert, scooping the eyeballs out of the dead Orc and handing one to Percy, who popped it into his mouth.

"What? Oh, yes, that. Well, we have to act the part," said Herbert.

"I suggest it may be worth rethinking your strategy," said Dreth.

Herbert looked at the body of his friend, whose skin was being peeled back by Sprat. "You could have a point there."

~ * ~

A heavy tread engaged a hidden mechanism, which in turn activated certain waiting magics.

For the second time in a day the Oracle found himself awakened from stasis. He hissed in annoyance. True, every question he answered brought him closer to release, but it also used up some of his life energy. The only satisfaction he had was answering the questions posed as literally as possible. Petty, he knew, but you had to take your p.l.e.a.s.u.r.es where you could.

Then the large figure entered the Oracles' chamber, and his eyes opened wide. Still, he uttered his usual opening line. "Welcome to my lair, I am the Oracle Farnsworth the Fair..."

The huge creature strode over to him and leaned down, red eyes close to his. "Where did they go?" It said.

"Your question is obscure, I..Ark!"

A giant hand had wrapped itself around his neck and squeezed, saving him the work of figuring out what rhymed with 'obscure'.

"Answer me."

The Oracle gulped, or tried to. The hand was tight. "They went that way." He croaked, pointing at an exit with all of his arms.

"Sensible." The hand opened, and the Oracle gasped for breath as the brute strode off in the direction indicated.

"Bully," he choked, but he waited until it was out of hearing first.