Follow the Wildclaw in their task to save Sornieth from the havoc-wreaking Ice Wraiths in these daily poems. Sign up using the form
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Day Seven
Credit: jetfeather#279801, jbapple#158745
“You couldn’t have said all this sooner be
cause?!”
A skydancer screeched as the crowd saw the jaws
of disaster loom close as Wraiths came to the fore.
The pearlcatcher explained like it was quite the chore:
“
You heard the monologue,
we solved the riddle.
We had enough time, no thumbs did we twiddle.”
Before there was any reply to be given,
the ghosts flooded forward; the whole group was riven.
The crooked-jawed monster dove straight for the ‘claw,
its hacking cough quickly becoming a roar.
His throat parched, unbidden, the snow started to melt -
the monster’s breath burned with a heat that he felt.
“Don’t let them touch you!” Someone called through the mists,
“They’ll take those they deem strong! Do not fight with your fists
for these ghouls also sap the moisture from their foe
and rely on the heat of the bodies they stole--”
The voice cut off quick but ‘twas warning enough
for the Wildclaw to dodge by the skin of his scruff.
(Meanwhile, a bogsneak, a nocturne and fae
crept away from the back, avoiding the fray.
Their claws were all glowing with magical light
to disorient ghosts who might force them to fight.
Nocturne hefted a bag, bogsneak took to the trees.
The fae began his spell with a hint of unease.)
The wildclaw drew a sword and lunged like all was lost.
He parried! He thrust - a feint and a riposte -
He shimmied and ducked, the image of pure finesse,
but he couldn’t forget this was no mere pretence.
With the stakes raised like so, he was forced to defend
lest the monster’s touch would to his livelihood rend.
When suddenly -
SHING! - a white flash from below!
He slipped; his feet was no longer on snow.
But just as the hollow-eyed monster bit down
and his hurt tail lost colour when he looked around
the monster’s eyes suddenly became pale and blank:
They resembled the mirrors that were once a snowbank.
The monster recoiled, breathed out billows of smoke
that vaporised into a ghost that then spoke:
“It’s a trap!” before being pulled down by a force.
Dragged straight into the ground; its life had run its course.
With a
schloop the Ice Wraith then existed no more
save a shadowy misty dark
thing in the floor.
That basically turned the whole course of the fight!
Ghosts screeched and retreated but try as they might
the whole battlefield captured their gaze with its gloss.
The black clouds underfoot: evidence of their loss.
Some escaped to the air; the bogsneak called up a gust.
Ghosts were blinded by snowballs that’d been laced with dust.
One last spell from the fae lying in wait,
and the snow-blinded creatures dropped down to their fate.
A silence fell that no-one wanted to quell
before: “ICEWARDEN’S LEGWARMERS! WHAT THE
HELL?!”
The mirrors were emanating mists that condensed
into translucent dragons, looking unsure and tensed.
“That one looks like ol’ Pax!” an imperial rasped.
The more the mist cleared, all the more the crowd gasped.
Those once ghostly dragons, solid form they amassed
and before they all knew it, familiar faces, at last!
For the dragons before them were neighbours or kin,
or lost missing cases no one knew where they’d been.
There was a brief stalemate between the two sides
before someone cried out: they converged like the tides.
There was laughing, and sobbing, embraces and shouts
of joy, pain: reunion, and shattering doubts.
And the wildclaw espied from the corner of his eye
the Exaltee swarmed by some dragons nearby.
“Don’t worry ‘bout the ghosts,” an Ice Sprite reassured,
“We can take care of them, now that they are all secured.
Thanks to the efforts of clans near and far,
Wraiths can no more force friends to say ‘au revoir’.
Be happy, be glad: all of you helped a lot.
You’ve raised our spirits, stopped the plague - even when all had seemed naught!
“I’ll agree, we’re all quite lucky that Wraiths travel as a pack
but at least it means that you’ll be safe when you all head on back.
All of you can return home and find that all is well -
Normality may resume duly; fresh snow you will soon smell.”
The group, now much more numerous with friends and kin returned,
now split apart for journeys back, a nice long rest they’d earned.
And - honestly I’ll tell you from the bottom of our hearts,
Thanks for staying with us all the way back since the start!
Thank you for your contributions to Ice’s conquest push;
Bless you, and may Pinkerton soon give you a new ambush.
Happy Halloween? If that’s something you celebrate
may things look upwards, may good things lie in your future fate.
