Re: Stan—Morothâ Assault
Stan doesn't know much about fighting, but there's one thing he's sure about: the minute Morotha stops moving about she can bring all 6 deadly arms to bear. He must keep her on the move, if not to save his life then at least to prolong it.
He is low on spells and in any case she probably has wards against mortal magic. Running away has worked so far, but now he faces a conundrum. If he leaves his family, he will be trapped in the abyss and probably killed. Yet if he returns to them too soon, Morotha will kill them all. He'll have to kite her, then, until Clementine and Demios can escape. One final concern emerges: will the demon queen herself be able to follow them through the portal? That's the last thing he wants.
With no time to think, Stan continues the chase. Morotha's bulk and serpentine configuration probably don't lend themselves well to vertical movement. Unless, of course, she can move like a snake and cling to the wall with a spider climb spell.
Still, he's got no better ideas than what he's about to attempt.
He does some quick archaeo-arithmetic to estimate when the hold spell might release its grip on his wife. Of course, if her will is strong it could break any moment. He had better get back.
His plan is straightforward but unlikely to succeed. If Clementine emerges while he's at it, she might be able to fly him to the portal in time. Otherwise, it's bad luck for Clan Fetchin.
He runs towards the edge of the cliff, angling his jump so that he can catch an outcropping below his family. His pursuer will have a hard time getting at him there.
As he sails through the air, a scene from his past flashes before his eyes.
He's in the village. He's just sent away a tousle-haired blonde and, even though he didn't want her, his body is fired up and he needs some cold air and a long walk. He begins to head towards the old mill, where rural seclusion and the slow, grinding pace of the machinery conspire to calm young ambitions.
As Stan goes up the road a black charger meets him from the direction of the mill. Atop the thick horse is a landlord as cruel and high-bred as his mount. "Out of the way, boy!" Shouts the man. Stan has just barely enough time to jump aside before he's trampled.
Stan walks on. As he nears the mill he hears wailing. He begins to run. Inside, the miller's hand is bleeding and crushed to the wrong angle. His wife is hysterical. His daughter, young and usually lively, stares wide-eyed and silent.
"It's the death of us," wails the wife. "You know he's not as young as he used to be. He got it caught in the wheel and now the landlord's saying there's a fine for lost wages. No help for us or our livelihood, mind you. Just a fine for him and his mill. It's the end of us."
That was Morotha. A cruel mistress, more powerful than the landlord but equally selfish and cruel. Perhaps, long ago, her cruelties were as petty as his.
Stan's body hits the obsidian wall with the force of a maceblow. He catches the wall firmly and even manages to secure a foothold, but now it's his own hands that are bleeding and bruised. He thinks once more of the miller before his own problems steal back undivided attention.
"Son! It's going to be very, very close."
23:44, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 20 using 1d20. Climb check to grab wall.