LoG

Demise of the
Iron Witch

She thought that she had been careful. It had been a tedious climb up the hillside. More than once she caught her self almost unconsciously trying to use her powers, but they would be watching for that. Even if the smallest amount of mental energies were to be expended a dozen kauleesh mercenaries would be dispatched to deal with her. She could not afford to waste her precious mental focus on such trivial distractions. Her power was set aside for a much greater purpose, revenge.

As the small feminine form kept over the last rocky crag she was able to peer down into the stone littered valley that sheltered the Iron Witch's diabolic shrine. Her blood will be spilled tonight. The murderous thought gave a moment of comfort to the infiltrator, though it took only the distant rumble of the damned forges to bring her spirits back to their properly dark place. It was a fool's errand, even if he had been her brother. Such devotion was not supposed to be in her nature. Damn those Goodling fools to hell, they must have corrupted some part of her.

Maybe it was the snakes. Maybe that's why she had committed to this folly; they were compelling her.

Maybe not.

The harsh banging of the hammers blow began to intensify. Time was catching up to her. She had to act fast. Rising to her feet she took one last moment to prepare herself. The soft boots, common style of the southern cities, did little to hide the sharp edges of the gravel she was forced to stand upon. Pain from the stones reminded her that there would be no comfort found in this bleak pit of stone. Not for anyone.

Scurrying down the inner wall, her pace began to quicken. Soon it was a sprint, then a wild run. Half-way down she focused her thoughts on movement, the friction between soul and ground lessened to almost nothing. She was gliding down the hill like a specter in a madman's dream. This was to be her moment, the elf would be proud.

Atop the metallic shrine one of the exotic guardsmen finally noted the intruder's presence. Bringing his horn to his mouth a great note sounded, and then was cut short as he gagged from a moments disorientation followed by a tumble down the hillside. It had been less than a blink before the invader spotted the watchman with a decided thrill reached through the astral realms with her mind, forcing their forms to exchange locations. Turning her thoughts away from the tumbling guard she focused on the rooftop. The small green stone set in her brow glowed with a life all its own granting her ability to peer into the heart of the enemy. She focused on one of the savant priests who praised the Iron Witch. He would do.

With more strain than she would have thought the bodies of both the priest began to waiver and shift. For half a heartbeat both bodies vanished. When the intruder reappeared she was standing in the priests place. Where she had been a cloud of red mist formed, then once grabbed by gravity, fell to the rooftop, splattering it with the remains of the priest. Holding the priest's still beating heart in her hand fueled the hatred that was flush in her body.

She dashed down the corridor, she smelled the fear of the enemy and it gave her strength. It was only a short distance to her quarry. The Witch's essence filled the corridors here. The few Kauleesh that tried to stand before the invading force was lashed against the wall or scattered to dust by tapping into the added focus granted by the beating heart. There just beyond the leaden archway, the end was near.

So focused on her target she failed to note the shadow that passed over her. When the last guardian sank its iron-shod claws into her back she felt more surprise than pain at first. Then the dark ichor of its poison began to seep into her body. She turned to face the enemy, but already her mind was beginning to lose its ability to concentrate and the heart was slowing in her grip. This could not be her end. As the armored harpy raised its claws to bring on the death-strike four black shafted arrows flew from a rippling pool in the stone wall. All struck harpy with deadly accuracy. The dark flier fell, choking on her own blood.

She was not so alone after all. He had chosen to help. Using the last bits of her mental fortitude she called the small vial of antitoxin from her bestial assailant. Devouring the elixir in a single gulp, its curative powers coursed through her body. With strength regained she turned back towards the archway.

This was her moment...