Chapter 637: The ‘Swamp’
Mason materialized in front of a beautiful log cabin nestled in a forest grove. Well-made, wooden steps led up from a small pond at his feet then split to several entrances. He saw some smoke rising from a chimney, and smelled something delicious cooking.
As he looked around he wondered how exactly how this was considered a ‘swamp’ or a ‘lair’. Then he slowly realized maybe the ice princess wasn’t being entirely honest about the fey creature that stole her rose. Or her perspective was very different.
Of course it could also have been a trick. Some kind of illusion magic. He activated One with Nature and shivered at the overwhelming ‘feedback’ that seemed to swallow his senses in a constant drone. He turned off the active portion and took a breath, sensing magic everywhere.
Whatever this place was, he had no doubt there was something powerful inside.
He walked up to the front door, not seeing any reason to creep around or go anywhere else. There were no windows or any way to see inside, though he briefly considered trying the chimney.
The possibility that he’d been lied to stayed with him. It was entirely plausible he’d open the door to find some innocent creature that just had something Lilith wanted. Why couldn’t she get it herself? He had no idea. But then he hardly knew anything about the fey or its creatures. Including what he’d been dealing with if he didn’t do what he was asked.
He took a breath, and knocked.
A feminine voice muttered somewhere inside. He listened carefully and heard boiling water and a fire. Light footsteps crossed towards the door, even lighter ones moved somewhere above. The door opened.
A slim, older woman with blonde but greying hair looked up at him as she wiped her hands on an apron.
“Oh my. You’re a big one. You’re here for the flower, then? Or for the ring?”
She moved away and gestured him in. He frowned and stepped inside, at something of a loss. The feeling of being barraged by magic was constant, but still not dangerous to him. It was just like standing near a furnace and feeling the heat.
“The flower,” he said, looking around the large, comfortable cabin, not sure what else to say.
That this was the ‘hag’ in some kind of disguise was very likely. But he wasn’t sure what he’d do if she just gave him the flower. Killing her after and taking her head seemed…just plain rude.
Clutter lay everywhere—every wall covered in paintings, what looked like children’s drawings, toys, charms, hung pots and pans.
“So the princess sent you, did she? My word, that was fast. Did she tell you what this place is? Who you were sent to contend with?”
“She said it was a Night Hag. And this is a friendlier reception that I expected.”
The old woman snorted.
“Why shouldn’t it be? No need to be cruel. You’ve been sent to your death, whoever you are. No one steals from me. If that frigid bitch cared so much about her flower, she should have guarded it better. Would you like a cookie?”
The woman walked to a nearby table and took the lid off a plate.
“No,” Mason said, tone colder now. “And I’m surprised you don’t know who I am. It seems like everyone in the fey does.”
“Oh I don’t have the time to keep track of things.” The old woman closed the lid and looked at him again, eyes sparkling with magic. “And this isn’t the fey, you poor fool. It’s the plane of night. My own little slice of paradise.”
She cackled, and the image of an old woman flickered with dark, green skin and coarse, rope-like hair. She met Mason’s eyes, and this time Apex Predator came to life. The creature’s eyes narrowed.
“Hmm. Well, whoever you are, you aren’t weak. I just might enjoy this. Imagine the brews and potions I might make from your big, muscled corpse.”
Mason’s Claw was in his hand before she finished speaking, charging across the room with a brutal swipe at the old woman’s throat. Her eyes widened just slightly in surprise.
The blade struck but the old woman just…came apart. It was like Demi’s motes of mana, the woman’s whole form bursting into a dark green mist. He slashed through it but let go of the Claw, summoning his Elven Bow and putting a planar arrow through the mist with inhuman speed.
Both seemed ineffective, and he charged a Lightning Bolt without hesitating, using a tiny amount of mana just to test as he blasted it into the retreating mist.
This time the mana crackled and fought and he knew he’d struck, though not with enough power to do anything.
“Oh you are a dangerous one,” the woman’s voice tittered around the cabin. “But you’ll die like the rest of my unwanted guests. Or…I wonder if you’d enjoy a slave collar? Oh that would be delicious. I could find many uses for that strong, young flesh. Perhaps I’d send you back to deal with the ‘ice princess’.”
Mason chased the mist straight into the wooden wall beside the hag’s kitchen. He smashed through, scraps of wood flying out into a pure, black void. He grabbed the side of the cabin and held himself back with a moment of panic.
There was nothing outside. Only darkness, like the void of space. He blinked and stared as the sound of the hag’s laughter filled his ears.
“You will never leave this place, deary.” Her voice had warped to something older, something cruel and predatory. “Not without my chains around your neck.”
He turned and raced through the cabin with One with Nature active just to find power sources. He smashed and tossed away the clutter, expecting there’d be something hidden, some entrance the creature used.
A cat leapt down from the rafters and meowed. Its big, solid black eyes stared as the creature started to grow and shift. Again Mason didn’t hesitate. He re-summoned his Claws and lunged.
The creature shimmered and appeared a few feet away, his blade passing through and ripping a chunk off a couch. He chased and kept hacking, the ‘cat’ warping without moving as it grew.
It grew until it was the size of Streak—a giant, black panther with a dozen tentacles for a tail. Mason grinned and activated his Honor Blades, his own new pair of arms growing with ghostly mist.
“Now this is more like it.”
He stared into the cat’s eyes, a moment of stillness before the duel. The cat hissed, and they both lunged.
The cat was fast, but as it raked a clawed paw at Mason’s face it soon learned the error of its ways. He slashed it with an upward strike, Marilith blade diving down at its shoulder.
It growled and warped again, a splatter of black blood hitting the wall from where he’d slashed it. This time the ‘tentacle’ tails came first, diving down as the cat jumped through the cluttered cabin from wall to rafter.
Mason slashed at the tentacles as he moved, but only to pretend he cared. There was only one prey animal in that cabin, and it wasn’t him. He modified his Boots of Nature with increasing speed and comfort, using it to help him twist and chase the cat as it leapt about the room.
Tail-tentacles struck him several times. Each hit flared his resistances—some slashed with a kind of blade, or pierced with a short spike. Transformation woke up and got to work, but until he saw red flashy danger signs he didn’t care.
The cat hissed and growled as it was forced to keep jumping and sprinting from wall to wall. But Mason didn’t give it a second. He slashed off a tentacle or two before he caught it, his Marilith blades driving for organs.
The cat warped again but not before another spray of black blood. As it landed it blurred in his vision, forming several copies of itself in a line across the room. Between the many ‘copies’ and the blistering amount of tentacles, his vision was almost overwhelmed.
But his Ranger Mark wasn’t tricked. The ‘real’ cat glowed, and he ignored everything except his target, eyes locked on its heart.
More tentacles struck, the pain of the stings growing as they found the weaker points in his armor and avoided his Sleeves and Boots. He protected his face and neck and nothing else.
The cat trusted its defences, just like him, taking its chance to strike with every tentacle and rake at him with its claws.
Mason’s Claws and Honor Blades all dug into its flesh. It howled and tried to warp, but it was too late. His improved Cerebus claws cut through flesh and bone with a sickening crunch, piercing straight through his target’s chest and cutting its heart nearly in half.
It met his eyes as it flickered, then drooped over his arms in death.
[Displacer Beast killed. Experience awarded.]
He eased it to the floor and breathed his victory, howling as he took out a piece of heart, and chewed. He’d hardly even thought about it before he did it, resisting the urge to check that his friends weren’t watching.
“What manner of demon has Lilith bargained with?” Hissed the angry voice of the hag. “All for a flower? The foolish witch. That ignorant child. What are you?”
“Busy,” Mason said, tossing more random crap around the room until he found a latch on the floor near where he’d smashed into the wall. He pulled it open to reveal some kind of underground lair, and smiled. “And coming for you.”