Arc 3: Chapter 26: Woed
The pallid man tilted his head to one side, studying our group. He reminded me of little more than a huge, bloated grub — now I got a better look, he had a pattern of thin depressions from ankle to neck, like circular seams in his milk-white skin. He wore a cheshire grin, baring teeth too large for the stretched flesh containing them. He giggled again, his whole body quivering with it.
I steadied my breathing, and then blew a soft breath into the faerie alloy of Faen Orgis. It flickered with amber fire, lighting the hall, and—
The fire died immediately. I blinked, taken off guard.
I didn’t even have enough strength to summon aureflame.
“Oh, ho!” The naked man strode forward, his gate drunken. His flesh, bloated and stretched like a drowned corpse, quivered and made soft sloshing sounds with every step.
“Pretty light," he said. "Show me again.”
He tilted in our direction, skidding to one side and then the other, advancing nearly a third of the distance with uncanny speed. His big teeth began to click together. Once, twice, three times. It became a chattering rhythm.
“Show me!” He yelped. “Show me!”
Perhaps I couldn’t summon the soul flame, but I felt its warmth in me. Fine then.
I’d do this the hard way. I had strength enough to lift the axe. It was enough.
I took the Axe of Hithlen in both hands, dropping it low so the crescent-moon blade glided a hair’s width over the stone floor, then shot forward.