[While on a rescue mission gone crazed, a holy warrior and a rogue fight bandits, demons, and the urge to rip each other's clothes off.]
The mission, rescuing a princess, could be going better.
Séa is an earnest paladin, honest and gullible. Tash is...
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Subdued, bruised individuals gathered in the orange-lit sitting room. An inches-long vertical gash in front of Ghomarck's ear led the list of injuries, but even Dooch nursed a few contusions. Chantelle fed the wizard a goodberry, which staunched the flow of blood down the old man's cheek.
Tash rubbed a sore hip and sulked. I don't see how I could have predicted that, but I still feel like I should have.
Zorexis cleared his throat. "Your pardon, ladies and gentlemen, but I feel compelled to assert myself. The escape tunnel has collapsed due to a trap. Curse the yotches. Apparently, they anticipated the possibility of the furion's defeat. They laid in a goodly amount of felignite and some mechanism to spark it."
"Felignite?" Séa said.
Yeah. Felignite? The feck?
"An explosive whose secret of manufacture is a closely guarded Abyssal secret," Ghomarck rasped.
The incubus continued, "We have only one way out, now. I can command the wights to tolerate your presence, but I must do it alone. They must not see you or smell you." He lowered his head in submissive entreaty. "Please. Trust me that far."
"Nuh-uh," Séa growled. "Not happening."
Lemons soured the princess's voice. "Come now, lady knight. Enough is enough. Love has changed his heart. He wouldn't – couldn't – hurt me, and he won't hurt you, either. Isn't that right, Zorexis?"
The incubus laid an elegant hand on his chest and inclined his head in a solemn bow. "I wish harm to none. A clean escape is all I want. I think we're safe until we attempt to lower the drawbridge. The wight guarding the mechanism will tolerate our presence but will object if we touch it."
Tash's face scrunched. "Are these wights just fighters? No magic?"
"Yes," said Séa and Zorexis together. Their gazes met and silent tension quivered between them.
The rogue hooked thumbs in her belt. "Should be straightforward to take them out quietly." Undead or not, I've learned a bagful of nasty tricks over the years.
"Lady Séa," Chantelle said, "Surely, you can allow him to command the wights to stand down."
"No." The paladin spread her hands, palms up. No trace of anger colored her voice. She spoke as if she were a teacher whose pupil required patient review. "Demons are masters of deception. It's how they are built. I'm not guessing. I know Zorexis is lying and has been lying from the beginning."
Dark pink colored Chantelle's cheeks. "How can you possibly know that?"
Séa answered readily, "His master is Gluzzik, roach-king of Mulk, not B'Fadzh of Hachta as he claimed."
"Not so!" Zorexis protested. For the briefest moment, a tinge of red colored his eyes.
The paladin spoke over him. "Hachta, you see, is a relatively friendly plane. Planar travelers may pay a tax and stay there unmolested. The roach king, on the other hand, is mad for power, and mad especially for power on the material plane. Also, look here." Séa extracted a magic skeleton key from her belt and held it by its shaft. The whorls of metal traced out an insectoid shape.
