The Tale of HappySinner and WarNick
Part 11.
Weapons drawn, the pair started off at a brisk jog across the flatland, keeping a keen eye on the approaching slugs. They kept as far away from the pits as they could, seeking the wider spaces between the holes as they ran. Behind them, the first slugs to arrive at the decapitated corpse had begun to stab and slash the free meal with their deadly tongues, dragging pieces free to be sucked whole into slavering, toothless mouths. Ahead, the pits were more numerous and spaced much closer, so the men’s path would no longer be a clear one. HappySinner looked left and right and saw no better route than the one they were taking, which was blocked by a huge Filth Slug. The slug was heaving its way between two closely spaced pits, its slimy bulk taking up most of the narrow passage. HappySinner and WarNick stopped their advance at a safe distance and surveyed the scene. On either side slugs were approaching, having sensed the presence of potential food. They were not fast but they were numerous, and the adventurers’ options for maneuvering had all but run out as they were being encroached upon on all sides by the blind, slithering slugs.
Sinner came to a decision. “Straight ahead is as good a way as any, and we’re out of time for speculation - I’ll draw the creature’s tongue, lad, and you see what you can do with that spear”. He took off to his left, and approached the beast. Sensing him, the slug reared up on its rear third and turned to face the threat. In this position the slug had a height advantage over the human, and reached out a questing tongue, probing the air for its enemy. Sinner, broadsword extended, circled warily and flicked the end of the slugs tongue with his blade. “Here, you sack of excrement!” he cried as the slug turned towards him. “Move your carcass out of our way and go slobber on the feet of your master... Hey!” A rod-like tongue shot directly at the minstrel’s head, missing by a hair’s breadth as he ducked to the side. The slug was in attack mode, and its razor barbed tongue was as fast as lightning. Its full attention on Sinner, it turned an unguarded flank to WarNick, who was crouched waiting his chance to strike.
“Now, lad!” cried the rangy northerner as he parried a snaking blow from the slug. “Now’s your chance!”
The young warrior needed no second bidding. Leaping forward with a bloodthirsty battle cry, he drove his spear with all his might into the side of the slug, just behind the featureless head. He had no idea of the internal workings of these things, so didn’t know where a vital organ might be, if indeed the creature had any as such. The slug’s hide was as thick as an old saddle, but Nick’s spear was sharp and slid deep into the heaving bulk. The slug grunted in agony and tried to turn to face this new attack, but with all his weight behind his thrusting spear, Nick used the movement to completely impale the beast. The spearhead, dripping mucousy blood, broke through the skin on the other side of the slug’s upper half and caused the huge body to ripple in an ecstasy of pain. Unable to move properly now, the slug lashed aimlessly in the warrior’s direction, flailing about in blind rage. Seeing his opportunity, Sinner leapt and struck. Swinging from below, the northerner’s keen blade sunk deep into the underside of the slug, just behind the front section. The slimy bulk toppled forward, and was dead before its flesh had stopped quivering from its impact with the earth. Withdrawing his sword from the dead pile, Sinner noted the other slugs were now attracted by the stench of the new cadaver and had stopped their advance on the men, preferring the easier meal. He called to his companion as he scrambled past the dead slug and into a clear space between the pits.
“Well done, lad - these other slugs will feast on their friend for a while before they come after us again. Time to make some ground!”
Nick was already running towards the passage between the pits previously occupied by the Filth Slug. The other slugs were too close for comfort, and he had no desire to feel a barbed tongue between his shoulder blades. A slimy feeding frenzy was underway as the pair set off again, weapons at the ready. The flatland was now almost clear of fog; save for a few tendrils of foul vapour that wafted up out of the pits. The rocky slopes at the base of the Mount of Orms were visible in the distance, and it was towards that objective that the travelers drove. As they passed a small pit a medium-sized slug, feeling the vibration of the men’s passing, probed out into the air, tongue extended into the path of their flight. In one movement, WarNick drew his shortsword and swung with an accuracy born of endless hours in the training halls. The tongue fell to the ground, still twitching with nerve activity, and the grunting slug withdrew into the pit with a splash. HappySinner’s blade was active also, decapitating anything that appeared above the edge of a pit as he ran between them. The men’s breath was coming in ragged gasps as they pushed their aching bodies to the limit, both knowing full well that if they were caught amongst the Pits of K’Rul when the sun went down, they would not live to see the dawn!
