Theresa ot an Bol'hjar, Benedict Kaspin
Theresa fired a bolt at the Vigil. It merely darted out of the way with a fluid left dodge. From within its winding shell-head, a waving tentacle stretched outward. As Theresa reared back, the tentacle reached forward and swiped it from her hand, its end making contact with her forearm, uncovered by her glove.
Theresa grunted, clutching her arm as the accursed mark slowly appeared.
Ben wasted no time. He charged forth the moment Theresa was attacked, connecting with the Vigil and pinning it to the ground with his massive hand wrapped around its scrawny neck. He raised his fist to bring it down on its shell-head, not bothering to react as the Vigil's tentacle crept up under his coat, placing the mark upon his chest.
Ben slammed the whole of his arm on the Vigil's shell-head, cracking it wide open. Inside, a slimy mess of tentacles suddenly began scrambling, and screeching. It leapt out of the shell head, and attempted to slither away from Ben, surprisingly fast for its size.
Ben stood back up and opened his mouth. A stream of fire chased the weakened Vigil, enveloping it. Its screeching filled the cavern atrium, and it thrashed about madly.
Soon, it stopped moving entirely, and the flames continued to burn it into ashes.
Ben paused, then turned back towards the humanoid body the tentacled creature was latched onto. He peered inside the shell-head, to see what appeared to be the face of a man, melted away to show nothing but the skull underneath. Suction marks littered the surface, and the interior was nothing but slimy, organic material.
Theresa wandered over, holding her now-broken crossbow. She looked over at the still-burning tentacled creature, and then down at the Vigil's body, and its true face.
"What the fuck was..." She muttered.
"I don't know." Ben replied, turning towards Theresa and asking,
"You alright?""I'm fine." She said, holding up her crossbow, almost snapped in two and ready to come apart at any moment. "Fucker broke my crossbow. Got my arm, too." She held out her arm, revealing the festering mark on her skin.
Ben reached his hand underneath his fur coat, feeling the writhing mass that'd sprung up on his chest.
"Got me too." He said,
"Doesn't hurt, though.""Yeah, at least there's
that." Theresa replied, a bit distressed.
"This the mark that old man told you about?""Must be."
There was a pause between them.
"Now we can't leave..." Theresa said, a little quieter.
"We knew it was gonna happen." Ben replied,
"We knew, and we still went. Because we both know we don't care. If we ever want to get off the Continent, some... squishy bruise isn't gonna stop us."Theresa didn't reply. She looked away.
"Theresa. Trust me. It's fine."Theresa glanced back up at Ben, then at the surrounding celebrators. They'd stopped. There was no drinking, no fighting, no music... no happiness.
One of the mole-people looked right at her, and said the strangest thing.
"We're sorry."Theresa didn't reply. She simply paused for a moment, looked back up at Ben, and said to him...
"Let's go. I don't want to be here anymore."
Ben nodded. And the duo left silently, with the crowd watching them.
All still. None happy.