Case #17: The Mystery of the Giggling Gobber (Chapter 9)

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When the scarlet form cleared the switchback and turned towards me I was blinded by a beam of bluish white light that streamed from the misshapen giant. I stumbled back, cursing, raising my hands to shield my overly sensitive eyes as the pitch black of the cave was violated by the illumination. The newfound dexterity I'd been blessed with proved insufficient to keep me upright as my heels caught the cart rails and sent me flailing backwards, but by its grace I was able to save my skull from being split open on the rock wall as I impacted. Disoriented from the unexpected glare I scrabbled to regain my footing, expecting the killing blow to descend on me at any moment.

Orsch charged forward into the light, and I surmised his goggles must have provided a protection against the blinding effect that my own sanguine vision did not. My companion gave no battle cry, only the grunt of effort as he swung the pickaxe with all his might at the creature. A sickening sound of flesh giving way to the heavy bladed head met his efforts, but the light did not fall. A moment later it flickered and I felt the rush of air as the monster lifted Orsch up and threw him into the far wall of the mine. Orsch struck a support beam with a splintering crash, and I feared that his spine had taken the brunt of the impact. Despite my misgivings my companion stumbled back to his feet, using the wall and shattered wooden strut for balance. But the spots that still danced in my eyes did not obscure the copious amounts of blood I now saw glowing under his clothes with my thrice-damned vision.

The cone of light swung towards me, and I closed my eyes tight against the blinding radiance. Surprise gripped me as I discovered that I could see the crimson shape of the monster clearly still. The startled realization that the strange blood sight required no use of my eyes nearly cost me my life as the creature reached for me with an arm far larger than it should have been, its fingers the size of my forearms. I leapt to the side nimbly, and as it clumsily groped for me I realized that this wasn't an undiscovered horror that had murdered the miners and harvested their bodies for its mysterious master.

It was the abomination from the mansion.

I couldn't imagine how the thing had managed to sneak into the mine without arousing alarms throughout the camp, but there was no denying its identity. Had I been able to see normally recognition would have been instantaneous; truly it was difficult to imagine the tattered remnants of shredded skin hanging from the woven muscled frame could be mistaken for anything else. Under the auspices of the sanguine vision though the abomination pulsed in even more sickening detail. I could clearly see the borders where one man's flesh had been woven into another's, and the blank spots peppering it throughout would be the presence of the infernal mechanika that kept it moving, bronze and copper pulleys, gears, and bars. The stench of its homemade furnace was overpowering, and I was finally able to identify the greasy evil that lay as its undertone.

The abomination was using necrotite as its fuel this time.

But how had the creature's creator gotten access to the hellish coal? Lord Lochlin's fear that Cryx were operating in the area seemed more valid now, but it just didn't make any sense. Had the Nightmare Kingdom been conducting operations locally I would expect there to be more death, and far more corruption. While I'd never had the unfortunate luck to encounter any of the denizens of the Dragon's empire I'd heard some fairly horrific stories that led me to believe that the presence of Toruk's undead servants would have a far more deleterious impact on the land and its creatures. Tales of the destruction wrought by his forces swirled in my mind, and it was difficult to imagine they would be as subtle as this monster's master in their designs or their murderous tendencies.

As if in confirmation of its improved fuel source the creature swung its oversized arm back towards me faster than at the mansion, and only my curse-granted dexterity saved me from the abomination's grasp. It was difficult to dodge the monster's hand with my arm covering my eyes but I couldn't take the chance of being blinded once more. Again and again I danced away from the fast but clumsy attacks, unable to steady myself for even a moment to fire the pistol I desperately clutched in my other hand. The light from the center of the hulking mass tracked my every movement, and horror chilled my blood when I saw the source.

Jonathon Worthington: Strangelight InvestigatorDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora