21

*You're either going to love this one or you're going to get bored. Let me know which in the comments :P*

Chapter 18

Your instincts rip you from the serene depths of your slumber, adrenaline and a cocktail of various other hormones sent coursing through your body. The ground shakes along with the bed and you feel the sting of pain on your temple; your eyes fly open only to see a blade heading straight for the spot between your eyes. A reflex kicks in, and a roar bursts out of your lungs. The claw and the arm plunging it downwards are blown away and shatter at various points along the limb. Your wings instantly flex and push you up into a crouch, your legs splintering the bed beneath you as you kick off across the room. You barrel into your screaming assailant, a wave of primal anger and violence clouding your mind. Your hand covers his face and slams it into the ground as he falls onto his back with your crouching body on his chest.

Your eyes scan the room around you.

Clear

. You look down at the unconscious body of your would-be killer, and make a face as you see what has become of his arm. It looks like a bag with shattered sticks and jelly in it. You inspect him further, using your sight, touch, magical scanning and smell.

Humanoid... Subterranean species... Similar to a molarin... Humongous mammals, blind, that live underground. In some cases they are known to create colonies with numbers to rival a human city, and a hierarchy similar to ants or termites. One queen or matriarch establishes the colony with the help of her royal guard, and produces offspring; later producing other females which are sent off to start their own underground cities.

Your magical scan reveals a significant difference between this individual and a standard molarin. Somebody or something has forced this creature to morph into a more humanoid shape. It's as tall as a troll and nearly as musclebound. Its body is tough, with dark, sleek fur covering it entirely except for a long pink snout. This nose ends in long whiskers and what seem to be small tendrils of flesh. You can't tell, as you've crushed its nose beyond recognition, but you imagine it uses that appendage to 'see' in front of itself when digging.

You quickly look up to the ceiling as you hear shrieks, roars and cries of varying intensity above you.

The barracks. There's more of them.

You run to the drawers for clothes, but a bright red glow from behind you catches your eye. A voice cries out.

"Miss! Shyv-Ana! Here, fight cloth!"

You turn to see the handkerchief goblin, Pil, jumping in front of a wardrobe you had strangely not noticed before now. The glow is pushing between the doors and Pil is motioning you over. He's pointing at the wardrobe with a scared look in his eyes, his hand gripping a pebble. Your mind works overtime and as you rush towards him it works out that he was probably the one to wake you. The scrawny creature had thrown a pebble at your temple, waking and potentially saving your life. You kneel and hug him before looking to the doors as they swing open.

There, inside your wardrobe and floating in a crimson light are a belt, five bracelets, and some kind of headband. You frown in confusion and look towards Pil as he tries to communicate. "On! Fight! Fight cloth!" He points at the six metallic bands hurriedly, and pushes you towards them. You decide to trust him, since you're unsure of what is happening. You pluck a bracelet from the air and put it on your wrist, not feeling any different but putting another one on, then two on your ankles as Pil mimes out what he wants you to do. You put on the belt and the last bracelet halfway up your tail before finally slipping on what, upon closer inspection, actually looks like a tiara rather than a headband.

You still don't understand what this is supposed to achieve but as soon as you place the final piece on your body, they all glow with an ominous purple light. You feel magic pulse inside them, and your eyes widen.

I scanned them! There was nothing magical about them... How are they-

You gasp as the six bands, perfectly synchronised, begin to spread and grow. Six loud '

kachunk

s' are heard as two bands jut out on each side of the metal bands at a forty-five-degree angle. The metallic sounds ring out again and again, each time another layer spawns out from the previous one, adapting to the size of your limbs and body. They soon lock together at the joints and you feel a large expanse of metal cover your head and hair.

A full suit of armour has just covered your entire body, so you perform another quick scan and a little movement test. That much is enough to tell you that this set is frighteningly powerful. The helmet covers your head but leaves most of your face open. You sense a magical visor of sorts in front of your face however, and take just a second to admire the design. Inside the helmet, formed around your two small horns, are two holes. They are formed in such a way that your horns keep the helmet from falling off.

The outside is incredible, a crest of long purple hair, so light it could be mistaken for feathers, decorates the top from back to front. The strands shift with your every move and you are surprised to see the suit has formed to cover your tail as well except for the heavy tip, leaving it completely unobstructed in any of its movements.

You have no time to ask any questions as the sounds of fighting are not dying down in the slightest. You rush towards the door, yelling a "Thank you!" to Pil as you go. You feel surprisingly light in the armour; in fact you feel light

er

in it than out of it. Your thirst for combat kicks in and you grin at the surge of strength you feel spreading out from your chest and to your limbs.

If your lord made this for you he seems to have imbued it with performance heightening magic, making you even

stronger

than you already were. It takes about two seconds for you to speed to the doors, wait for them to let you through, then another two to practically fly up the stairs. Finally, you wait those last moments before the doors at the top recognise you and smoothly swing open.

You bounce on the balls of your feet, the armour feeling more and more natural with every passing moment; like a second skin. Your lips turn upwards into a wide grin, your teeth gritting impatiently. You have a thought, and look over your shoulder to where your wings ought to be. Those things disappear when you don't need them without you even realising it, so you focus once more and summon them.

What'll happen if I'm in the armour...

You feel pressure on the summoned limbs, and for a moment you fear they'll be damaged. Your doubts are dispelled as you see and feel the armour adapt and open at your shoulder blades, your wings spreading free just as the doors open. Your heart nearly beats out of your chest and your body tenses in anger as a thought goes through your head.

If they've hurt Master I swear...

Chapter 19

The scene before you is a mess of blood red, the brown of goblin skin, the dark fur of the molarin... Hundreds of them seem to have made it into the barracks and can be seen massacring goblins by the dozens. You are horrified to see their limp bodies being thrown around, some ripped to shreds, lifeless eyes staring off into the distance. You don't know these creatures, but somehow their suffering resonates with your rage, increasing it further.

Your vision goes narrow, and your eyes focus on one single Molarin at a time. You wordlessly and soundlessly lunge towards it, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. You don't even look directly at it as you speed past; the surprised faces of surrounding goblins are quickly replaced by confident grins and encouraging war cries. Your wing slashes towards the hulking animal and slices smoothly through its back.

You dig deep enough to cause pain, but your aim is another thing entirely. Beside their spines is a bundle of nerves, clustered together behind their stomachs. This nervous centre is their main weak spot. The slightest bit of damage to it will cause them to roll up into a foetal position and tense every single outer muscle on their body into a natural suit of armour. In this state they will be nearly impervious to injury but effectively harmless.

You're satisfied to see that their mutation has not changed this fact as the massive creature cries out before curling up into a near perfect sphere. Deep inside, you wonder if you ought to kill them outright; it would be easier and it would probably mean less wounds or casualties among the goblin's ranks. However your mind is made up. You do not feel that as a newly born and immature creature you should have any say in who should die or who should live. Thus you will attempt to save both sides equally, and grieve for the dead after the living are safe.

A thought pushes to the forefront of your consciousness: surprise at the sudden mood swing you've just experienced. A moment ago you were ready to rip everything around you to shreds, and now you seem intent on avoiding as many casualties as possible.

It's for the best I suppose...

You don't stop for anything and keep running from one Molarin to the next. The blades on your wings are coated in a thin sheen of blood, but you're reassured by the knowledge that you will have spared as many lives as you could. You ignore the bright red liquid sliding off of your wings and go for one target after another, flitting across the battlefield like a bolt of lightning, leaving dozens of muscly spheres in your wake.

A thunderous roar carries over from your right, and you skid to a stop. There, thrashing and bellowing in the midst of dozens of crushed bodies, is a patriarch. Alone, these things would be the alpha males of the species; in a colony however, they are essentially the generals, the leaders and high ranked guards. They command their lesser brethren and mate with the females of greater value for the good of the colony.

You see him both as your next target and as a more worthy opponent than the ones you've faced until now. A small smirk forces its way upon your lips despite your best efforts as you rush to him and order the nearby goblins to stand back. They recognise you quickly and keep away, staying around the creature to make sure it does not get too far from you. The patriarch hears you coming and turns its roaring maw towards its new opponent, baring its teeth.

A large limb comes crashing down in front of you, its timing slightly off, and you easily hop onto it before running up the gargantuan limb. You keep your balance as you realise just how much larger and taller this creature is compared to a molarin foot soldier. When you reach its shoulder and your fist crunches into its jaw, it recoils and you jump off behind it.

Six steps tall... Not counting the head

. You land and the rock beneath your feet immediately cracks as you propel yourself towards the back of its knee, your heavy tail ready and swinging into the joint.

Unprepared, the lumbering beast begins to fall, one leg not enough to keep its body up. You go in for its spine; but it either expected it or got lucky in its thrashing as its arm, as big as troll's chest, hurtles towards you and impacts your abdomen. You feel its fingers clench around your midsection and the pressure increases rapidly. Grunting, you thank the armour for doing its job and pummel the beast's forearm with your fists. When that only makes it hiss in pain, you cry out in surprise as it lifts you, pulling its arm back and whipping it towards a pillar. You fly through the air and see the massive stone surface rushing to meet you. Spinning in mid-air you manage to absorb the impact in your legs, then push back the way you came; the pillar straining and crumbling with the force of your muscles.

Your adversary has turned back towards the nearby goblins, leaving its back wide open.

"Good night, beast." You mutter right before your plated arm pierces its flesh and grasps the bundle of nerves; the beating of its humongous heart pulses on the back of your hand. You quickly pull your arm back out of its body before the gasping creature rolls up and the humongous muscles tense, cutting off the bleeding. You dread to think about what state your arm would be in if the muscles had caught it between them.

You take off in a burst of wind and overlook the battlefield, climbing higher to get a vantage point. Your first impression had only been half right; there were a lot of casualties among the goblins, but that was against the molarin on the surface. Peppered across the caverns were countless holes dug into the rock. Some were entrances the diggers used to get in, but others were tunnels they had created to lure the goblins in and hunt them on their own turf. That had been a mistake.

Goblins are strong and not very smart, but if you look closely, their 'relaxed' stature is hunched over and bowlegged. The reason for this being the fact that they are used to living underground. Amazing climbers and just as proficient diggers, travelling through tunnels made for the bigger molarin turned out to be a piece of cake for the dirty little humanoids. Hundreds of the whooping and laughing critters had jumped in after the invaders, and from the smell of blood emanating from the holes you could tell they were

obliterating

them, hunting them down as swarms. You do not like the idea of the hundreds of corpses this will produce, but you find yourself grinning when you a trio of soldiers drag out a rolled up enemy out of its tunnels.

Maybe they're not as bloodthirsty or dumb as one might think.

You notice a few other patriarchs around the cavern, but all of them are being engaged by the ghouls and trolls of your lord's army. Some require teams of up to three officers and their respective troops to take down, and you imagine that those individuals are the more powerful offspring of the matriarch.

The queen! Where is she? Where is Terenim!?

Looking from your vantage point you cannot see him, nor can you see the massive matriarch and her bodyguards. Every queen in a colony births as many sons as she can to protect herself and her daughters, and these monstrous individuals make up the royal guard of the colony. They stand at the absolute peak of power and strength, massive and incredibly dangerous. With this seemingly modified colony, you have no idea just how much of a threat they would pose.

As panic starts to seep through the cracks in your calm state of mind, thinking about what could be happening to your lord at this very moment, your instincts warn you of danger; you immediately beat your wings in one powerful burst and move to the left. As you look up towards the ceiling, you find a series of cracks snaking their way outwards from a single point. Dust bursts forth from the crevices in an uneven rhythm, and you beat your wings to keep yourself at a constant altitude. Your heart pounds in anticipation as you see large chunks of stone fall away, and your muscles feel like they're about to tear themselves apart from the tension.

Finally, the rock crumbles and five figures come crashing down; roars, laughs and snarls mixing into one incoherent cacophony of sounds. You recognise Alaina, her spindly limbs and harrowing laugh easy to identify as she sees you and waves at you with a grin, along with three unbelievably large molarin... and your lord. They fall past you, hurtling towards the ground in a tangled mass of limbs and fists and claws. At the sight of all this, your stunned mind discovers yet another delightful and surprisingly satisfying invention: swearing.

"What the fuck..."

Chapter 20

As you stare in awe and confusion at the growling, roaring mass of teeth, muscle and sinew, the five combatants plummet towards the ground with ever increasing speed. When the cavern floor is only a dozen metres below them, the forces on the ground have all evacuated the area, having noticed their rapid descent and intimidating size. Your little allies seem to be having more and more trouble dealing with the molarin on the surface despite the boost of morale after their previous victories underground. You imagine the appearance of the queen has something to do with the sudden increase in strength of the enemy.

You worry about them, wanting to help Terenim but not wanting to leave the goblins to their demise. Your worries flare up even further as you hear yet more sound coming from above. Whipping your head upwards, you gasp at the sight of dozens, hundreds of spiders pouring out of the hole in the ceiling. They spread out, skittering outwards from their improvised entry point. Their bodies seem to defy gravity as they somehow keep hold of the smooth rock, their sharp talon-like legs keeping their bodies suspended upside down. Some of them release their footholds and landing heavily among or on top of the invaders a few seconds later. Their surprisingly strong legs absorb the shock of their fall when the bodies of their victims are not sufficient. The ones landing among the goblins elicit screeches of surprise followed by more war cries as the pointy-eared captains jump onto their mounts.

You close your eyes, trying to find information on this strange symbiosis, but nothing comes up.

Yet another mystery I need to ask Terenim about...

You open them once again to see the sets of two creatures moving together fluidly, running around, above and on their enemies. You hear a sharp sound from the ceiling which you do not recognise. The rest of the arachnids have begun either scraping their front paws together near their pincers to emit a painfully high screech. Dozens upon dozens of them follow suit, and your ears slowly adapt to the sound, blocking it out when necessary. They synchronise with each other to make it resonate throughout the cavern, and the weaker molarin cry out in pain. They soon sink to their knees, and you excitedly realise that their hearing is much better than the average creature. Not only are the eight-legged newcomers immobilising the weaker ones, but they are effectively limiting the tougher individuals' awareness of their surroundings.

Finally, to help the goblins with no trolls or ghouls accompanying them, some spiders dig their talons into the rock and shoot their silk at the larger specimens. Their web sails through the air and latches onto limbs, heads and torsos before pulling taut and disrupting their movement.

Satisfied that the ground troops have enough support, you turn back towards your lord and Alaina. You're surprised to see that the Arachne has engaged the humongous female whilst Terenim seems to be keeping the royal guard at bay.

Molarin princes or royal guard, the direct male descendants of the queen and the strongest male in the colony. Stronger, faster and more intelligent than any of their peers, they usually come in groups of two or three depending on the size of the litter. There can only be one litter of princes, although other litters may have individuals of similar strength, the first is always the purest and thus recognised as the royal litter.

As you nosedive towards the battle, the arachnid and mammalian females are locked in combat. Alaina's smooth and resilient chitin protects her lower body from claws and fists alike, and she uses her surprisingly manoeuvrable legs to fend off any attacks to her softer humanoid half. Jaws snap and bellows sound throughout their surroundings as blows are exchanged; the spider queen jabbing her razor sharp talons into the molarin's weak spots. She seems to be doing well, but her lack of mass compared to her opponent is not something she can change. A wide swing with the mammalian's entire body and mass behind it slams into her side, shaking her chitin to its core and sending her hurtling towards a pillar. She absorbs the impact with three of her legs before pushing back off and charging back; landing atop her opponent. Alaina's legs pierce any flesh they can find and burrow deep into the thick muscle, leaving only her heavily armoured belly within reach of the molarin's claws.