Just About to Break

Dire Maul, fighting ogres and demons, and something hits me and I freeze, twisted up. Do demons feel this, when I banish them? The dislocation, rending, trying to pull you from the physical form you call your own. I fall, slump on the ground, look up into the faces above me. Trolls, friends and sort-of friends.

Four, then three, then two but one.

The four are gone and the three stand, swathed in dark robes, I cannot see, but one of the three is also the one and there he stands in feathers and beads, and the light in his eyes is frightening as I lie in pain and listen to his twisted tongue as he turns to the two of the three and laughs.

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