Burning Road

Rally- Part II

Mimi poked at the smoldering dung with a stone stick and brought her little fire back to life. She studied DotPrince. The Raven's claws had cut into the muscles of his arm and he'd managed to get himself bitten afterwards. He slept deeply and, if she hadn't known any better, she might have feared for his life. As she watched, his body swiftly healed his wounds.

Mimi'd carried him out of the ruins to a campsite used by travelers who frequented the cave system. They were expecting visitors and the she had no intention of sharing her knowledge of Novabia's Folly. It was her secret, her nest egg. So outside they camped.

The campsite was cleared of debris and seemed to eagerly await them. There was an unspoken rule that supplies were left behind to make the next traveler's stay bearable. That meant there was enough for a fire, a small shelter, and someone had even left a tiny drum for entertainment.

Miminda stared into her meager fire and contemplated. Cross had given her a lot to think about in his half- assed attempt at helping. To save Rag and Vhal she would need to venture into the one place every creeper dreaded going, The Dark. She'd need a map and maybe a guide.

Therein lies the problem. Every darkling ambitious enough to help her would be just as likely to serve her up to The Countess of Wails. Maybe that was her best play, surrender and hope that she could escape with life, limb, and soul... the more she entertained that idea the less feasible it seemed. So she needed to get directions to The Cauldron and go it alone.

There was also the matter of giving Cross the stone, he'd showed a bit of his true colors when he thought Khouri might actually harm The Raven. In that moment of vanity the mask fell away and she caught a glimpse of how powerful Cross really could be. His playful sexual advances, and tough exterior were all designed to hide what kind of monster he truly was.

Incubi fed off sex. Anything a darkling fed upon they could control. But Cross wasn't a run of the mill darkling, he was a Demon Prince forged from the suffering of billions of souls, infused with the very essence of The Dark itself. If she believed the constant boasting.

With but a look and a caress he turned sex into a devastating weapon. She had to kill him faster than he could react.  He was no novice like Sweeney, and she would only get one shot at him. Killing Cross would not be easy.

Visitors arrived while she was lost in the dancing of the campfire. Miminda grabbed her dagger and backed into the shadows of her makeshift shelter at the sound of approaching footsteps. Something didn't feel right. She heard three sets of footsteps but four distinct voices, one little more than gurgling noises.

They walked into the circle of light cautiously. It was the ugly old creeper, the blind elf, and the only troll she could ever tolerate. The creepers spoke in whispered tones and it took her a moment to recognize the extra voice was coming from the knight's shadow. Cyril had said he would bring help but instead he brought...

"I thought you were bringing help, not this batch of pressed bat dung?" she fumed as she came into the light.

"I told you she wouldn't be happy to see me," Pan commented.

"Why would I be, you double-crossing darkling in creeper's clothing? You stole Ragdhyl's luck. He's at the mercy of some bug loving darkling whore because of you!"

She pushed Golan aside without so much as a glance and started stomping on Cyril's shadow. It twitched awkwardly and tore into two. One accepted her beating while the other slithered over to the mouth of her shelter.

"If you go near him I will kill you," Mimi growled.

"What is he? His fortune smells exotic." the shadow said, though he dared not get any closer.