Common Clay

The campaign began the next day, at first light. With Lord Pellsglade at the lead, Clay and the others headed north into the Tanglewood. They rode horses until they reached the forest, at which point they turned over the reins to some of the baron’s retainers. From then on, they proceeded on foot, making their way towards Scout’s Hill.

Once there, they established a small camp. Clay looked out over the valley, his eyes searching for signs of the monsters below.

They were surprisingly scarce. He thought only one or two of the elder troll spiders were crawling through the trees, and only a handful of spots remained unburnt within the ring of webbed trees. Outside of that, even the signs of troll perches or mantrap nests seemed to be few and far between.

Charles stepped up alongside him, staring out at the valley. “Are they hiding? I don’t see that many.”

“There may not be that many left. There were more of them, though.” Clay’s eyes narrowed, and he turned his attention back to the Lair. "Maybe the Guardians pulled the others back.”

“If so, it will make it that much easier to take down the ones outside.” Charles gave him a reassuring grin. “Come on. Let’s get some food.”

Clay turned back toward the campfire. There was going to be plenty of work to do soon enough.

The elder troll spider lurched as the ice spear hit it dead center. It staggered, the strength leaving its limbs as it struggled to right itself.

It failed. Clay watched it collapse with a sigh and glanced back at Maribel. “Well done.”

She grinned. “Thanks!”

The [Mage] had taken to the Canticle of Ice like a fish to water. She now wielded it with an inherent joy and satisfaction that was a little intimidating. Both of the elder troll spiders patrolling the perimeter of the Lair had fallen to her abilities, and her grin each time had told him how much she enjoyed doing more than just healing her allies.

He was starting to sympathize with her. There was no real benefit to having him kill the spiders anymore; he wouldn’t gain any Soul from doing so, so Lord Pellsglade had asked him to stay in reserve as the rest of the heroes had dealt with the remaining guards. Both of the elder mantraps had already died to Enessa and George, and Ned, Charles, Frensfeld, and Lord Pellsglade had handled the various troll spider perches and mantrap spider nests without really needing any help. Apparently, they had devoted a considerable amount of study to the notes he’d made, and they’d put the lessons to devastating effect.

The only problem was that Clay now felt somewhat useless. He’d been reduced to sitting and watching, giving the occasional bit of advice or acting as an easy distraction for the occasional enemy. It was frustrating, but he could see the sense in the decision. Besides, there hadn’t been that many spiders to kill in the first place. At this point, only the occasional spiderlings were still around.

With those enemies removed, the only thing left to do was remove the enemies hiding inside the Lair itself.

Lord Pellsglade stepped up beside him, his grin surprising to see. The baron seemed incredibly enthusiastic about seeing the spiders cleansed, but then again, he’d been fighting them for far longer than Clay had. He nodded to Maribel and then turned back to Clay. “Sir Clay, we still have plenty of daylight remaining. Do you think we could probe the Lair, or should we try tomorrow?”

Clay blinked, taken aback. He glanced around at the party, trying to judge their fatigue. “If we are ready, we can always give it a try. The remaining elder spiders may be hiding within, however, and I don’t think that they will give up if they are sent after us.”

“Will they come out if they see an entire party?” Lord Frensfeld frowned, looking towards the ruins. “I would think that they would wait until we tried to enter the place first. Then they would have an advantage.”

Ned spoke up from the far side of the clearing. He looked mildly bored; letting Maribel deal with the elder troll spiders had not been the most interesting choice for him. “What if we didn’t send more than one of us in to chase? They sent the hunters after Clay the last time. Maybe he could lead them out again this time?”

There was a moment of silence, and then the others turned to Clay. He burst out laughing. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I played bait. Remember that bull we found, Enessa?”

The [Fighter] grinned. “Yeah. You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Absolutely. Just make sure you are ready.” He looked towards the Lair and shivered a little. “I’ve already had enough of these things chasing me down.”

George clapped him on the shoulder. “You can count on us, Clay. One more big fight, and then we can hit the Guardians.”

The others began to disperse, getting into position for the incoming enemies, and Clay started towards the ruins. Perhaps he would not be left sitting on his hands after all.

The ruins had not improved with the passage of time.

Clay made his way carefully across the cobblestones of the dead hamlet, careful to look around and examine the empty buildings. Now that he knew there were spiders hiding within, it was somehow much harder to continue deeper into the place. Each step seemed like it was plunging him deeper into the jaws of a trap that was very ready to close.

Webs were still everywhere, lacing the alleys and thoroughfares. He was careful to keep from touching any of them. Clay kept moving towards the center of the town, his every sense shouting that he was surrounded by danger. At one point a cloud crossed in front of the sun, and he waited, tense, until it passed. Occasional gusts of wind stirred the webs, blowing swirls of debris that brushed against the spidersilk.

He paused, watching the leaves and sticks float past. They hadn’t stuck to the webbing; did that mean it would have been safe for him to touch it too? Somehow, he doubted it. Nothing about these monsters was harmless, and they wouldn’t have spent so much time creating a maze of silken fibers just for the look of the thing. There had to be some malign intent behind it.

It took him nearly an hour to make his way to the center of the ruins. Most of it was due to his cautious approach, but he also wanted to make sure that his friends had enough time to settle into their ambush. He’d seen them digging some pits and planting sharpened stakes inside. They weren’t the kind of pitfall that would kill an elder spider, but it would slow the younger monsters down. Every edge would help; none of them wanted the fight to be anywhere near as close as it had been the last time they encountered the hunters.

Finally, the tower came into view. He saw the curtains of webs extending from halfway up the tower to the edges of the courtyard that surrounded it. The webs seemed just as impenetrable as they had the first time he’d seen them, and Clay didn’t feel like he wanted to test it now any more than he’d wanted to the first time. Best to just tempt the Guardians to send out their hunters, and return to help his allies kill them. Once the rest of the spiders were dead and the Guardians could only have mere spiderlings to call on, they could burn their way into the Lair and finish things.

Clay crept as close as he dared to the tower, still avoiding the webbing that threatened to brush against him with every breath of wind and every hesitant step. Then, as he paused in the shelter of a long-empty stall, he drew in a slow breath and stepped out into the open.

His heart hammered in his chest as he stared up at the tower. He couldn’t see any sign of the great eyes that had peered at him the last time he’d been here, but he knew the Guardians had to be watching. They would see him, the chase would begin, and he and his friends would be one step closer to destroying the Lair.

For a long moment, nothing happened at all. Clay watched and listened, waiting for the scraping and screeching that would be the first sign that the hunters were coming. When something finally happened, he’d need to be ready to flee.

Then he saw them.

The Guardians did not remain within the tower this time. The first one emerged in utter silence, the black, hairy legs quietly unfurling from a hole three quarters of the way up the tower without a sound. His heart seemed to freeze for a breath as Clay saw it leave the tower.

It was a nightmare beyond anything that he’d seen before, completely different from both the troll spiders and their mantrap cousins. The black-haired legs were thick and muscular, far from a troll spider’s spindly limbs. Its body was just as hairy, and it seemed like it was the size of a small hut. Those large, almost hypnotic eyes only glanced at him slightly as it worked its way down the side of the tower.

Clay stepped back, his eyes going wide as a second Guardian made its appearance around the back of the tower, crawling along the ancient stone and wood. Why were they coming out after him? Why not send the hunters after him, like they had the first time? Had they simply run out of minions to send? That couldn’t be true; he knew they had more elder spiders somewhere. But then…

Suddenly, he heard a scream rise over the ruins. It was the screech of an elder troll spider, something he had been waiting to hear. The sound was far more distant, however, and it was soon joined by the crackle of magic and the clash of battle. His head snapped around, staring at where his friends were waiting in ambush, just in time to see a bolt of lightning flash out.

The hunters were already there! How? How had the spiders…

His gaze went back to the Guardians. The monsters had moved slightly, and now both of them were staring down at him with those too-bright eyes. Realization dawned. They had known, somehow, where the adventurers were lying in wait, and had sent their minions to ambush them once they knew he was coming. That was why they were coming after him personally. Killing him would weaken the rest of the team, and without him, his friends were far more likely to be wounded or killed. In one move, they could cripple the heroes threatening the Lair, giving themselves enough time to spawn their newest children and strike back.

Clay took a step back, and both spiders moved in response, gathering their limbs together as if to leap. If he ran…no, the Guardians would not let him get away, not now. If he tried, they would run him down before he reached the end of the ruins. At best, he’d be bringing the Guardians into a fight that was already tilted heavily in favor of the spiders. At worst, he’d die before he ever had the chance to see his friends again.

He looked up at those monsters and realized that he had just one choice now. If the Guardians died, their control over the others would fracture. The hunters would stop coordinating, would start to act on their own. It would give his friends an edge they could use to survive. A small one, but a better chance than they’d have facing a united horde.

All he had to do was take down two separate rank ten Guardians by himself.

Clay grinned and brought up his spear. “Well, you arranged this whole thing. Here I am. Let’s start.”

For a single frozen moment, the Guardians appeared to study him, as if waiting for their companion to begin. Then they both burst into motion, and the battle began.

The one higher on the tower leapt at him, its legs sending it soaring through the air. Clay saw the other pull in on itself slightly, bringing its forelimbs together. He didn’t have time to see what it was doing, however; he jumped forward and hurled his spear straight up at the monster, hoping it couldn’t somehow redirect its fall in midair.

The spear hit the Guardian in the head, and Clay grinned as he sprinted forward. He started the Cycle of Return, hoping to finish the [Chant] as the thing overshot him. Surely it wouldn’t expect him to run forward when it was pouncing on him—

A sudden discordant chorus rose over the ruins, a sound that drilled straight down into him. His teeth hurt, and the [Chant] fractured almost immediately. The pain in his skull would have driven him to his knees, but he was mid-sprint, so instead it turned his triumphant charge into a tumbling roll down the street. Overhead, he was just aware enough of the first monster flying past him and landing on the cobblestones.

Desperate to escape the noise, Clay dashed for the nearest alleyway. Somehow, the prospect of the webs was less terrible than the chance that he’d have to suffer that hellish noise for another second. He saw the first monster scrambling around with a speed that only increased his panic. Its haired forelimbs were already striking out for him when he jumped, clawing through the air towards safety.

He reached it just before the clawed forelimbs passed through the space where he’d been. Clay hit the ground and rolled, tearing through a handful of webs. The threads resisted like they were made of wire instead of spidersilk, but they broke all the same under his weight and failed to stick to him. When he came up on his feet, the noise faded, and he gasped in relief.

Then a shadow fell across the street he had just left, and he looked back to see the face of the Guardian staring in at him. His spear was still lodged in its skull, but the point hadn’t gone deep enough. The thing’s fangs unfurled into forearm-length blades and it hissed at him in sheer malice. It brought its forelimbs up like the other one had, and Clay had a flash of realization again as he realized where the terrible howling chaos had come from.

Clay didn’t give it time to start. He looked at the other end of the alley, pictured the second spider jumping on him as he left its shelter, and flung himself sideways, through the half-rotten side door of the web shrouded building to his left. Wood splintered and web fibers snapped as a second screaming wave of sound tore down the alley. His vision blurred slightly as he caught the edge of it, but he still managed to roll through the discarded debris left inside the building and come up with his brain intact.

He heard claws on cobblestones outside, and looked towards the webbed doorway and caught sight of a hairy limb disappearing. The building had been some kind of tavern before doom had claimed it; decayed wooden tables were half collapsed in a large common room, and dust gathered in every corner. A stairway led up to the second floor, made of crumbling wooden boards. There was a surprising lack of webs inside, but given the size of the Guardians, it didn’t surprise him that much.

His fingers went for his shortbow as he turned towards the stairs. Something the size of the Guardian couldn’t come in the building after him, but it could direct that sound into the common room and burn his brain out from his ears. He scrambled up the stairs as a shadow fell across the doorway; one of the boards broke beneath his feet, but he was moving too fast for it to stop him.

Clay reached the second floor just as the howl-scream filled the room below. Again, he only caught the edge of it, but it still made him stagger. He sniffed and felt the beginnings of a nosebleed.

Forcing himself to keep moving, he turned towards the front of the building again, running for the window he saw at the end of the second floor. The webs were there still, but he’d have a space to shoot through. Something landed on the roof above as he ran, but he ignored the way the shingles and rafters creaked as he reached for a broadhead arrow.

When he reached the window, he drew and fired in one smooth movement. There was only one possible target—the Guardian still crouched in the street outside, rubbing its forelimbs together in a way that created the ghastly sound below. The arrow sunk into its back among the stiff bristles that covered its back. Clay gritted his teeth against the enraged hiss that followed and drew a second arrow. He probably didn’t have much time before the second one—

His thoughts cut off as the Guardian’s back seemed to ripple and flex in a way that set off every alarm bell possible in his mind. He ducked just as a torrent of those bladed bristles burst off the thing’s back, spreading through the air like a volley of crossbow bolts. Hairs slammed into the window and the ceiling behind him, burying deep into stone and wood alike. Dust rose from the impacts, and he coughed as he rose to fire the second arrow.

He saw it sink deep in a part of the spider’s now-bare back; the bristles were already regrowing, somehow, and he grunted in irritation. Then he coughed again, and his eyes widened as he realized that the hairs around him were still shedding something. Black motes filled the air, and he dimly realized that the ‘dust’ had been some kind of poison they were spreading.

Clay stumbled back from the window, still coughing, and heard something splintering above him. Through eyes that were growing gummy with tears and mucus, he saw a section of the roof cave in and a thick forelimb stab through. He had a half-second to jump back, and then a second forelimb tore through to strike where he had been standing.

He caught a flash of the second spider shifting position on the rest of the roof, and then more limbs came crashing through. Clay brought his bow up and tried firing an arrow at it, but it seemed like the broadhead just made the next pair of forelimbs strike that much harder.

Frustration boiled within him. He needed to do more damage, and fast.

As more limbs crashed through and the roof trembled, he stowed his bow and drew out one of the harpoons that Adam had sold him. The next time the spider’s backside appeared in one of the holes, he hurled the harpoon with all his strength. It sank into the spider’s belly, right near the abbreviated spinnerets. He growled in satisfaction as it hissed in rage and started the [Chant] for the Pursuing Leap. His voice was gravelly, but the syllables still came out, and if he could get up and under the thing, maybe he could do some real damage.

A limb slammed into the floor right beside him, and Clay dodged through the doorway of an ancient guest room of some kind. Collapsed beds and broken furniture were strewn across the floor. Clay, still chanting and coughing, ran for the crumbling remains of a chest of drawers, hoping that what was left would bear his weight. He scrambled up it, drawing the knife Adam had given him. Once he balanced on top of it, he pulled out the grapnel with his other hand, starting to swing it back and forth. There had to be some way to get up there—

The entire ceiling of the room caved in as both of the spider’s forelimbs crashed through it. Clay winced as light suddenly poured through the dust, and then jerked back in horror as the limbs hit the floor and kept going, crashing partway into the floor below. More of the roof collapsed, and Clay found himself staring at the second Guardian almost directly in the face.

He reacted on instinct as much as training. Clay swung the grapnel at it, hitting the thing in the shoulder as it jerked itself back through the hole. There was barely enough time to get his knife hand partially back on the rope before he suddenly crashed through what was left of the ceiling and roof, pulled back into the open sky like a fish on a line.

Fortunately, he wanted to be in the air, but it didn’t make the process hurt any less. Clay held on grimly, coughing as he swung back below the spider. He started to pull himself up and under it, but the spider jumped back, hissing wildly, and he found himself dragged along the rough tiles of the remaining roof. More aches and pains tore through him as he scraped across splinters and shingles, but he still kept his grip on the cord, and continued the [Chant].

The tension on the rope slacked for a moment, and Clay pulled himself up to his knees. He had just enough time to bring his knife up when the Guardian sprang forward and bit him on the left shoulder.

Clay screamed as both broad fangs slammed into him. It was like being stabbed with a pair of swords, and out of sheer reflex, he drove his knife up and into the monster’s chin. He felt the fangs jerk up and out of him, and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. His grip on the cord loosened slightly, though he kept a firm hold on the knife.

Then he finished the [Chant] in a single desperate gasp, and held on for dear life as the spell settled over him. He had just enough time to brace himself before Pursuing Leap took hold and dragged him up and back along the spider’s belly towards the harpoon at its rear.

Ichor sprayed and the spider’s enraged hiss became something high and agonized as he dragged the thick knife through its underside. Clay had stabbed his knife nearly three quarters of the way into the thing, and he could feel thick muscle carved aside as the spell pulled him. His own shoulder was sheer pain, and it was all he could do to hold his grip until he reached the harpoon.

The instant he came to a stop, Clay ripped his knife free and began the [Chant] for Firm Step. He yanked hard on the cord, wrapping part of it through the notch on the harpoon.

Then, before the spider could recover, Clay ran for the edge of the roof and threw himself off.

He fell partway down the wall before he jerked to a stop. It was easy to picture the grapnel’s hooks digging even deeper into the spider, and the awkwardness of the pull trying to fold it like parchment. Above him, he heard the Guardian still giving off that high-pitched whine-buzz of pain, and he gritted his teeth. His boots kicked in the open air until he rocked back against the wall. A couple of frantic heartbeats followed as he tried to reorient himself so that he had his feet on the wall; above him, he could almost feel the thing gathering for another leap, one that would probably send him flying and end in him being smashed to a pulp at the end.

This time, however, its wound made it delay too long. He finished Firm Step and felt the spell anchor him to the wall. He braced himself, pulling as hard as he could, putting every ounce of muscle and weight into the effort.

Above, the cord jerked, and Clay felt like he was almost yanked flat against the wall. His arms burned, as if they’d almost been pulled loose, and he felt something snap free. It momentarily relieved the pressure, only for it to jerk at him a second time. He gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to ignore the pain of the rope slipping through his grasp.

There was a colossal crash at the front of the building, and Clay finally couldn’t hold the rope any further. He let go of it, and then released Firm Step as well. More crashes rumbled through the building as he dropped the rest of the way to the street behind. Clay landed on a pile of boxes covered in webbing, and another dual lance of agony went through his left shoulder.

He rolled out of the wreckage and got back to his feet. Something was wrong with his side; there was a pain that went through him with each breath. His left hand felt weak, too; he doubted the bow was going to be an option anymore. All the same, he started the reversed [Chant] of Pure Touch; Olivia had thought it would be good for clearing poisons. She’d called it Clean Heart.

The thought of her sent an ache through him, but Clay forced himself to focus on moving. One of the Guardians was badly wounded if the thrashing at the front of the building was any clue, but the other was still moving. He needed to finish the first one if he could, and then come up with a plan to deal with the other.

Clay ducked into the alleyway again, forcing himself into a hobbled run. He still tried to avoid stepping on the webs; they had to be there for some reason. Something in the front of the dead tavern groaned and collapsed out into the street. It gave him a bit of an extra push to move forward. His grip on the knife tightened as he moved. A hairy limb flailed, and dust rose ahead.

He finished the [Chant] as he reached the mouth of the alley and felt the dull pain in his shoulder suddenly lessen. His breath came easier too, and his vision cleared a little. Clay felt a burst of gratitude and then emerged into the cloud of dust. It nearly set him coughing again, but he held his breath and tried to see what was happening.

The Guardian he’d virtually gutted was thrashing in the rubble of the tavern. Its weight had come down hard on the front of the building, and it obviously hadn’t been able to adjust its landing enough to compensate. It lay on its back amid the shattered stone and broken beams, rolling frantically in an attempt to regain its feet. Ichor was still spraying from its belly where he’d carved into it, and there was a gigantic hole where it looked like his harpoon had ripped itself free, taking a chunk of the thing with it. There was no sign of its companion.

Clay began the [Chant] for Pursuing Leap again and ran for the rear of the monster. It was still trying to right itself when he stabbed down into it again, forcing the blade as deep as he could. With a whine of rage that made his head hurt, it finally flipped over, nearly tearing his knife from his grip. He forced his grip back around it as it tried to spin towards him, swinging him around like a ragdoll.

Then the spell activated again, and it dragged him back along the thing’s belly towards the grapnel. He reached it a heartbeat later, half covered in ichor and blood. With a yank, he ripped the knife free, and then grabbed the rope for the grapnel. A second hard yank brought the crippled thing’s head down, and he chopped and stabbed at it again and again and again.

{Guardian Broodmother Spider slain! Soul increases by 100}

Clay stepped back from the mangled remains of the spider’s head, watching as the rest of it twitched and collapsed. One dead. One more to go. Where was it?

A creak from the half-collapsed tavern answered him. The cloud from the tavern’s collapse was settling, and he could see the massive shadow of the Guardian’s figure through the dust. It was crouching on the top of what remained of the building. It had obviously gone around to find him, but had taken the wrong route. Now it was staring down at him with clear hatred, and Clay smiled when he saw his spear still sticking out of its face.

Then he started the Cycle of Return, and yanked his grapnel free of the corpse. It didn’t take much to start it spinning, sending the dead Guardian’s ichor flying in all directions. He ignored a bit of it that hit him in the face; it didn’t stop him from stepping forward.

The Guardian leapt at him, and Clay darted to the side. He threw the grapnel at its face, but the monster was ready. It batted the device away from its face with one forelimb, sending it clattering onto a nearby roof. The other struck down at where Clay probably would have been if he had sprinted directly forward. Stone crunched beneath the blow, and Clay congratulated himself for out-thinking the thing.

Then it came down behind him, and he pivoted. He half-expected it to spin to face him, but instead it simply bowed low, like it was preparing to shoulder charge something. His eyes widened as he saw the bristles along its shoulder stiffen and ripple, and braced himself for impact even as he tried to dodge back towards the opposite side of the street.

A shower of bristles tore past him, and he nearly lost the [Chant] as pain ripped through his left thigh. He glanced down and saw three of the bristles buried in him like throwing knives. The urge to cough or scream rose in him, but he tried to keep moving. There had to be enough of an angle…

He finished the [Chant] a moment later, and he targeted the spear. It yanked to the side with enough force that he heard something crack and then pulled free of the thing’s face. Clay heard its agonized whine like it was sweet music and sheathed his knife as his spear returned to him. The weight of its haft felt solid and comforting as it landed in his hands, and he switched to the Pursuing Leap [Chant] again.

The Guardian was staggering now; its head lolled a little to the side, as if some muscle or tendon had been torn by the spear’s departure. It still moved with deadly speed, its limbs skittering over rubble and the corpse of its friend as it tried to orient to face him. He kept limping back and forth, changing direction in a pattern that made it harder; the unfocused look in its eyes nearly made him laugh if it wouldn’t have made him breathe in more of those dark spores.

When he was nearly done with the [Chant], he stopped and readied himself. He’d likely only have one chance.

Across the street, the spider’s reaction was immediate. It brought both forelimbs up, ready to rub them together and create the horrendous sound that would break the [Chant]. It was too late, though; the spell settled over Clay a moment later, and he was sent skyward as Pursuing Leap dragged him towards the grapnel, still lying on the roof.

The edge of the sonic assault caught him, though, and the ringing, ear-burning blast nearly broke his focus. As it was, Clay gritted his teeth as he continued to shoot up and over the monster. He could already see the hairs on its back rippling; a moment longer and he’d be pin cushioned by the spray of bristles.

So he let go of Pursuing Leap, and his trajectory curved back towards the earth as the spell vanished. He started Cycle of Return instead, bracing himself as he plunged downwards. Another salvo of bristles tore past; one brushed his cheek, and a second buried itself in the meat of his right arm. Despite the agony, he kept his grip on the spear, and drove it in hard as he landed on the monster’s back, right where the pale skin of the thing remained hairless and vulnerable.

The spear went in up to the crossguards, and Clay felt the spider go stiff in shock. He twisted it a little, digging the point deeper in, and then let go to draw the knife.

He managed two brutal stabs before the spider bucked him off. Clay tumbled through the air for a moment, landing with a thud beside the thrashing monster. It pivoted towards him, but before it could bring the fangs to bear, he rolled in and under the Guardian, still saying the [Chant]. Limbs cracked cobblestones around him, and he could taste blood in his mouth, but he kept moving until he’d come to his knees beneath the thing.

The move bought him a mere handful of seconds of confusion. It likely wouldn’t have worked if the monster had been any less dazed; the loss of its companion, the wounds it had taken, and the sheer impossibility of the situation had robbed it of the obvious instinct of just crushing him flat. By the time the thought might have occurred to it, though, it was too late.

Clay completed the [Chant]. He reached up with the spell, grabbing hold of his spear, and pulled.

There was a noise like a butcher sawing through meat, and the monster above him shuddered. Its whine stuttered, and then choked off as the spear tore free of its belly in a shower of ichor. Clay stepped to the side and grabbed it and then lunged towards where the head was wavering back and forth. He landed, and then turned to brace the butt of the spear against the cobblestones, pointing it up at the monster’s head.

It was just in time; the spider’s limbs lost their strength, and it dropped right onto the point. Clay grunted as more ichor splattered him, but above him the Guardian gave a single, spasmodic twitch.

Then it was still.

{Guardian Broodmother Spider slain! Soul increases by 100}

A wave of relief swept through him, followed by a horrible, wracking cough. Clay wrenched his spear out and shoved the collapsing corpse to the side. It landed a bit awkwardly, and a repulsive shoulder brushed him, nearly knocking him from his feet. He stumbled a bit and then sat in the rubble.

He was still, for a moment, lying back against the broken stone. Then he lurched forward and yanked the bristles free of his leg and arm, whispering Clean Heart as he did. There was still something left to do.