Jean Rabe - Downfall

Behind them, the mariner continued to struggle with his creature.

"Tough to kill!" Rig shouted. Though the beast had no arms, it still lunged toward him, crawling on its knees and snapping. It managed to stand, and as Rig stepped back to ready another swing, it kicked out with a clawed foot.

Fiona recovered her blade and joined him.

"No harmful intent, huh?" he mused to her as, exhausted, he shoved the long sword through its stomach. The creature sagged forward onto Rig, toppling him and burying him beneath its heavy body. Fiona rolled the thing off him, and the mariner got to his feet, stabbing it one more time to make sure it was dead.

"What a mess," the mariner observed, plucking at his blood-soaked shirt. Then he headed toward where the creature had thrown his glaive. "Ah, here it is."

Meanwhile, Rikali was holding her throat and coughing violently. "Pigs!" she spat. "I thought that horrible beast was going to kill me!" She shook out her arms and legs and stumbled toward Dhamon. "But you saved me, lover." She kissed him loudly on his cheek, then bent over the creature, with some effort tugging the dagger free. "This is mine!" she said, waving the dagger at the body.

Dhamon sheathed his sword and studied the wall the creatures had been hiding against. There were no hidden niches he could find. Their coloration seemed to be all the camouflage they needed.

Rig was poking at the wall with the butt-end of the glaive, making sure there were no further surprises. Fiona had rescued the torch and held it high behind him.

"Three of them," Rig said, after he'd checked all of the walls. "Just like Kulp's folks said they'd spotted tracks for. Guess that means you can come down now, Fetch." He looked up at the kobold, still clinging to the pillar. But the kobold shook his head, gesturing wildly. "We got them all. You're safe."

Fetch shook his head even more exaggeratedly, almost comically.

"He's right," Rikali said, her face paler than normal. "We didn't get them." The half-elf pointed to the first one that had been slain, the decapitated one.

The head and body had somehow moved toward each other, and the companions stared as the two pieces began to reattach themselves. The rocky-hued flesh flowed like water from the stump that had been its neck, capturing the base of the head and adjusting it until it fit properly. At the same time, the wounds on the rest of its body were closing. The chest began to rise and fall regularly, and the eyelids fluttered open. A moment later it was climbing to its feet, snarling.

Maldred rushed forward, tugging his sword free and swinging.

"This one, too!" Dhamon pointed. Then he turned and joined Maldred to fight the creature who had raised itself from the dead.

The armless body of the creature Rig had slain was twitching, the wounds on its chest and stomach sealing as they watched. Its face was drawn together in concentration. A barely discernible «skritching» sound came from nearby.

"In the name of Vinus Solamnus," Fiona hushed. "Look at this."

The noise was made by claws moving across the tiled floor. The arms the mariner had cut off the downed creature were crawling back toward the body. They moved purposefully, arranging themselves against the shoulders, the skin flowing to reattach them.

"Awh…" Rig grumbled. "They're definitely not giants. They're damnable trolls." He stomped forward, pinning one of the wriggling arms beneath his boot, and picking up the other and yanking it away from the shoulder before it could completely reattach. He heaved it out of the cave. Then he drew his sword and struck the torso again and again, sending a shower of blood spraying in the cave. "Keep hitting them," he explained between swings, "or they'll come back to life."

"I thought trolls were supposed to be green," Fiona said as she moved to the third creature, which Maldred had sliced the leg off of. The leg was rolling toward the body, and she thrust the flame at it and watched the skin bubble and pop.

"Well, most are," Dhamon said, as he and Maldred simultaneously skewered their foe. "Good idea, what you're doing, Fiona. You can burn trolls. They can't come back to life if they're cinders. Bring your torch over here when you're done."

"I thought these stinking things were only found in swamps and forests," she continued. Her free hand drew her sword and she hacked at her target, which was futilely attempting to hobble away. She heard movement behind her and whirled, thinking it another troll coming up behind her. It was the half-elf, edging closer for a better look.

But the moment's distraction served to the troll's advantage. It reached a hand out and swiped at Fiona's face, the claws digging into her cheek and causing her to cry out. She spun back instinctively, swinging hard and slicing through the creature's arm at its elbow. The claws remained attached to her face, as if the limb had a life of its own.

"That's disgusting," the half-elf spat, as she tugged the arm free, taking some of Fiona's flesh with it. Then she dropped the limb to the cavern floor and snatched the torch from the Solamnic, thrusting the flame to the arm and gagging at the smell of the burning troll flesh.

"Damnable beast!" Fiona cursed. Her free hand held over her injured cheek, she swung at the creature more fiercely, severing its other arm. It howled angrily at her and tried to roll away, but she pressed her attack, repeatedly hacking at it until it was still. Then she threw the dismembered pieces away from the torso and glanced about for her torch.

The half-elf had carried it to Dhamon, who was burning the troll he and Maldred had slain for the second time. The Solamnic reached for her backpack, retrieved a second torch, and quickly lit it and went to work.

Behind her, Rig was calling for some fire.

"Yuck." This came from the half-elf, who had picked up a troll foot, the toes of which were jerking. She tossed it Fiona's way, and busied herself by retrieving the other pieces the Solamnic had scattered, and complaining each time she found something that wriggled.

"Here!" Fetch hollered. "Look over here!" He was gesturing toward the base of the pillar he clung to. A head had rolled there, and was continuing to roll toward the entrance as if it were attempting to make an escape.

"I'll get it," Rig returned. He tromped over to the pillar and hauled back on his leg, intending to kick the head out of the cave.

"Stop!" Dhamon brought his torch over and applied it to the head, grimacing when it opened its mouth and screeched. "There are tales that amputated troll limbs can regrow entire bodies."

"Since when did you believe everything you heard?" The mariner brushed by him and checked on Fiona.

It took the better part of an hour to cut up the trolls and burn them in a large bonfire, which made the cavern reek of charred flesh.

"I'm not certain we got all the pieces," Dhamon said as they stood at the cavern entrance, where everyone had retreated for clean air. He kept his eyes trained on the blaze, occasionally glancing to the walls and the pillars, where the carved dwarven images were more illuminated now.

Then, while Maldred and Rig took turns watching the fire as it dwindled, using their swords to push back fingers and feet that tried to crawl away, Dhamon tended to Fiona.

"It might scar," Dhamon told her as he cleansed her torn cheek with a little of his alcohol. "But the healer in Bloten, Grim Kedar, is amazing. He might be able to help you."

"I will be fine."

"You're cut to the bone. I'd like him to look at you. No telling if you might get some infection or disease. You shouldn't take any chances with something like this. Those creatures' claws were filthy."

"I'm surprised you care."

"I don't," he said flatly. "But it's pretty clear that Maldred does."