Into and Out of Hiding

[Izvilvin]

Furious alternating slashes kept the spider's legs bleeding, but the wounds seemed to be taking no effect. Onward and onward it came, coming closer every time to crushing the dancing drow beneath its legs. He was fast, though, and possessed unparalleled stamina - he would not stop.

Izvilvin had become a being of pure instinct, moving in response to the commands of his body as if there was not a thought filtering process. The world had become a series of swirling colors as he dodged kicks, bites and poisonous spit. The city had finally rallied, Scara Brae's limited surviving military and wizards taking their shots when they could.

The spider had slowed, but showed no sign of stopping. Lillian's furious stab caught both the spider and Izvilvin by surprise, as neither had noticed her ascent. As it writhed in agony, thrashing about in rage, it shook the drow's weapon strap loose and down to the ground between them.

Focused as he was, Izvilvin's trance was shattered when he was struck by one of the spider's legs, launched a few feet backward onto the ground. He groaned and tried to rise, but the descending leg of the beast forced him to roll once more, but just a few feet. As the appendage crashed into the stone, Izvilvin drive Icicle deep into it, hot blood squirting out and over the icy blade.

The beast roared and reered back, giving Izvilvin a brief but clear glimpse at what was happening behind it. Two boats were trying to pull out to sea, strange string attached to the back of the monster. It was happening slowly, but the spider was being dragged backward into the open water.

Its attack against the drow was halted then, as the spider's entire focus was on remaining on the land. All eight of its legs dug firmly into the ground, but the steam-powered ships were taking it inch by inch. Determination burning in his heart, Izvilvin found new vigor and rose, rushing up to the creature and retrieving the embedded Icicle.

He slashed and stabbed mercilessly at its maw, aiming for the eyes, the mandibles, anything that was near. Screeching and trying to bite him, the spider surrendered more of its focus and it was slowly dragged into the sea until only its head remained on the shore. The spiders on its back had been trying to reach the boats, too single-minded to try and detach the webs, too single-minded to find a way to avoid the water. As a result, they milled about on their master's back like lost followers of a cult that was losing its leader.

When all seemed to be won, the spider-god went for broke. Rising up with every inch of power it could muster, each leg shot forth to grasp the land, smashing the docks to find footholds. Even the creature's face rested hard against the grassy shore, mandibles buried in the ground.

Izvilvin had opened dozens of wounds on its face, but each slash was met with resistance from the spider's thick skin. Now, though, with the soaking wet spider-god only two feet from him, Izvilvin sheathed Icicle and lifted Mjolnir over his head in preparation.

Then, with all the power he could muster, the drow buried the electric blade deep within what was left of the spider's nearest eye, hilt-deep.

One with the spider's blood-curdling scream, thunder roared. Between the deluge of rain and the chilling sea, Mjolnir pumped waves of lightning through the spider's body, smoldering its organs, bubbling the liquid poison inside, causing smoke to billow into the rain as it escaped the monster's eyes.

Slowly the cry died and Izvilvin placed a boot against the spider's face, prying his blade free as its resistance faded. The spider was dragged into the water where its body slowly drifted.

On its back, so many of the tiny creatures had nowhere to go. As their master's body sunk down more and more, they went with it, not a one of them trying to escape their fate.

Moments later, with the cheers of the entire island shaking his bosy, Izvilvin stood in the pouring rain before the sea, Mjolnir burning the spider's blood off of its blade. He watched as the boat crews removed the webs from their vessels. His eyes drifted lazily along the water, looking for a sign of a brave girl. Seeing none, he turned to walk toward a familiar form.

Izvilvin knew the half-elf was a figure from his past, but only did he recall. "A long time has passed," he greeted Anenfel, who looked no worse for wear than he did. The drow didn't want to admit that he had long forgotten the warrior's name. "I am happy we met again as friends."

The city's citizens were congregating near their location by the port, where long rows of earth had been dug deep into the gravel. It would be a while before the city could fully recover, so much death had been dealt. For now there was celebration and mourning, and the reunion of two Citadel companions. Only now did Izvilvin realize how much had changed over the last few years.

The aches of his wounds returned with the loss of adrenaline. Izvilvin sheathed Mjolnir without taking his eyes off of Anenfel, a man who, in another life, would have been his racial enemy.