Savages of the Sacred Salvage
Moving downhill is at least easier than uphill, although as out of breath and in a hurry as you are, you narrowly avoid a couple of near disasters when you put a foot down wrong and stumble at a stone or patch of loose soil concealed beneath the springy grass.
The Oath takers are already spread out across the drilling worms' area of activity, a wide gash of overturned soil the worms wallow about in in a confused manner. The worms are always like this; they're fast asleep and dormant at night, and during the day they tear up the ground in every direction. In lean times, pigkeepers turn their herds loose near the worms at night to feast on the exposed roots and crushed rodents their spinning has overturned, but most of the time, normal, rational people avoid them.
The young men are shouting encouragement at each other and striking at the worms with axes and spears when you reach them, panting for breath. "Chameek?" you ask, with mounting panic. You know you're running out of time.
Heedless of the inexpertly flailed weapons or of the demon worms themselves as you rush in among the warriors, you call your son's name again and run from Oath taker to Oath taker, checking each fearsomely painted face for the familiar one you seek.
Suddenly one of the men gives a triumphant shout, his spear having just wedged itself between two segments of a drilling worm's armored spine. The worm bleeds a shower of red and yellow, and then activates its blue fire. The young Oath taker vanishes, along with the worm. He has the honor of being the first of the bunch to reach Hell. And as if he set off a chain reaction, the other worms all engulf themselves in the blazing blue fire as well. Gasping in fright, you have just enough time to register what's even happening before the light engulfs you as well.
The Oath takers are already spread out across the drilling worms' area of activity, a wide gash of overturned soil the worms wallow about in in a confused manner. The worms are always like this; they're fast asleep and dormant at night, and during the day they tear up the ground in every direction. In lean times, pigkeepers turn their herds loose near the worms at night to feast on the exposed roots and crushed rodents their spinning has overturned, but most of the time, normal, rational people avoid them.
The young men are shouting encouragement at each other and striking at the worms with axes and spears when you reach them, panting for breath. "Chameek?" you ask, with mounting panic. You know you're running out of time.
Heedless of the inexpertly flailed weapons or of the demon worms themselves as you rush in among the warriors, you call your son's name again and run from Oath taker to Oath taker, checking each fearsomely painted face for the familiar one you seek.
Suddenly one of the men gives a triumphant shout, his spear having just wedged itself between two segments of a drilling worm's armored spine. The worm bleeds a shower of red and yellow, and then activates its blue fire. The young Oath taker vanishes, along with the worm. He has the honor of being the first of the bunch to reach Hell. And as if he set off a chain reaction, the other worms all engulf themselves in the blazing blue fire as well. Gasping in fright, you have just enough time to register what's even happening before the light engulfs you as well.