Downfall

Dhamon ducked beneath the beast's arms and jabbed upward into its rib cage with the dagger, while in the same motion he swung the sword into the thing's thigh. Dark green blood spattered down at him, blinding him. But he thrust and swung again and again, even as Maldred came at it from the other side.

Out of the corner of its eye, the beast spotted Rikali, who was grumbling and sluggishly picking herself up. Ignoring Dhamon and Maldred, the creature moved the fight toward her, viciously kicking out with a leg and raking its curled nails across her leg. She gasped and fell back.

"Pigs! Can't the two of you kill that beastie!"

"Trying," Dhamon replied, as he drove the dagger so deep into its stomach it was lodged there.

At the same time, Maldred swung down hard, slicing through the creature's leg and crippling it. As the beast fell and twitched on the floor, the big man continued to slash at it. Dhamon crouched over it and plunged his sword into where he guessed its heart would be, slamming his eyes shut as more blood spurted on him.

Behind them, the mariner continued to struggle with his creature.

"Tough to kill!" Rig shouted. Though the beast had no arms, it still lunged toward him, crawling on its knees and snapping. It managed to stand, and as Rig stepped back to ready another swing, it kicked out with a clawed foot.

Fiona recovered her blade and joined him.

"No harmful intent, huh?" he mused to her as, exhausted, he shoved the long sword through its stomach. The creature sagged forward onto Rig, toppling him and burying him beneath its heavy body. Fiona rolled the thing off him, and the mariner got to his feet, stabbing it one more time to make sure it was dead.

"What a mess," the mariner observed, plucking at his blood-soaked shirt. Then he headed toward where the creature had thrown his glaive. "Ah, here it is."

Meanwhile, Rikali was holding her throat and coughing violently. "Pigs!" she spat. "I thought that horrible beast was going to kill me!" She shook out her arms and legs and stumbled toward Dhamon. "But you saved me, lover." She kissed him loudly on his cheek, then bent over the creature, with some effort tugging the dagger free. "This is mine!" she said, waving the dagger at the body.

Dhamon sheathed his sword and studied the wall the creatures had been hiding against. There were no hidden niches he could find. Their coloration seemed to be all the camouflage they needed.

Rig was poking at the wall with the butt-end of the glaive, making sure there were no further surprises. Fiona had rescued the torch and held it high behind him.

"Three of them," Rig said, after he'd checked all of the walls. "Just like Kulp's folks said they'd spotted tracks for. Guess that means you can come down now, Fetch." He looked up at the kobold, still clinging to the pillar. But the kobold shook his head, gesturing wildly. "We got them all. You're safe."

Fetch shook his head even more exaggeratedly, almost comically.

"He's right," Rikali said, her face paler than normal. "We didn't get them." The half-elf pointed to the first one that had been slain, the decapitated one.

The head and body had somehow moved toward each other, and the companions stared as the two pieces began to reattach themselves. The rocky-hued flesh flowed like water from the stump that had been its neck, capturing the base of the head and adjusting it until it fit properly. At the same time, the wounds on the rest of its body were closing. The chest began to rise and fall regularly, and the eyelids fluttered open. A moment later it was climbing to its feet, snarling.

Maldred rushed forward, tugging his sword free and swinging.

"This one, too!" Dhamon pointed. Then he turned and joined Maldred to fight the creature who had raised itself from the dead.

The armless body of the creature Rig had slain was twitching, the wounds on its chest and stomach sealing as they watched. Its face was drawn together in concentration. A barely discernible «skritching» sound came from nearby.

"In the name of Vinus Solamnus," Fiona hushed. "Look at this."

The noise was made by claws moving across the tiled floor. The arms the mariner had cut off the downed creature were crawling back toward the body. They moved purposefully, arranging themselves against the shoulders, the skin flowing to reattach them.

"Awh…" Rig grumbled. "They're definitely not giants. They're damnable trolls." He stomped forward, pinning one of the wriggling arms beneath his boot, and picking up the other and yanking it away from the shoulder before it could completely reattach. He heaved it out of the cave. Then he drew his sword and struck the torso again and again, sending a shower of blood spraying in the cave. "Keep hitting them," he explained between swings, "or they'll come back to life."