Part 8

This vessel was not of Goblin design. This must have been their masters, or those somehow controlling their kind. The vessel crashed violently to the lake side pier, and the arrows continued to rain down. In my crab form, I wasn't sure what I could do, but I thought that I could take advantage of the element of surprise.

The beings on the boat were likely not aware of the crab form I was in was an honest to good Druid. I behaved the way I thought a crab would behave. I retreated. I swam briefly to the space under the boat, looking to flank the boat's inhabitants by perhaps clambering up the side of the vessel.

This proved to be more difficult than I anticipated, so I took cover under the pier, waiting for the sounds of thundering footfalls that would inevitably unload from the boat. I heard disordered shouting in a language I couldn't understand, and then the thunder of feet from above. Gerald and Anita would struggle to fight against this many bodies, and I wasn't sure what help Damon would be.

In crab form, I could provide a distraction, so I scuttled to the edge of the water, and held my pincers up high. The first form, I eviscerated, the second, I threw into the water. Then I could take a good hard look at what we were facing. These forms were larger than goblins, I thought, as the water began to fill with blood.

Behind me, I could hear the sound of arrows being returned - most likely from Gerald, and over my head, flew knives, being propelled in the direction of the disembarking forms. A pile of bodies created a wall on the pier, and progress of the forms leaving the boat slowed. I retreated backward toward Anita and Gerald.

I still was no able to identify what it was that was pouring out of the sub-terranean vessel. The bodies decayed rapidly, leaving behind the rags they were using as make shift clothing. As I tried to focus, the world went red. I can only figure that an arrow went into my eye, and I recoiled. I was blind.

Then the pain started. It didn't end. It was always like this, dying in the body of an entity that I was able to transform into for only a short period of time. It filled me with some rage, and importantly, an urge to survive. An urge that, for the first time in my experience of knowing the man, grateful for the hands of a Dwarven Cleric dragging my tired body closer to safety.

He had clearly stopped knocking on the door above, and was ready to fight. Gerald was at his side, and it looks as though the lackeys had stopped pouring their numbers off the ship. Most likely, their leader was next, and we would need all of our strength to eliminate them.

And that's when the cavern shuddered, and the water rushed toward the shore as the largest figure of them all disembarked - a giant bear, reared up on two feet, snarling, its jaws letting out a screech, a roar, and and a greeting all at once.

It rushed at our little group. As it did, a knife flew toward it, unleashed from Anita's cache, whereever she kept it. Damon's hammer moved for its knee, but the bear slipped on the residue of of the now formless lackeys that were still melting into a goo-ey miasma, with tendrils of black smoke curling around the environment.

It landed on its back, and Gerald was upon it. His weapon of choice? The Fish, of course.

Damon swung the hammer repeatedly, with glee, but this humanoid-bear wasn't defeated. It rose, throwing Damon across the space, while Marcia sung a different tune. I recanted some spell, hoping to root the creature in space, but the lack of soil in the place meant no vines sprang forth.

It charged Gerald, who was now holding his sword, and he swung defensively. They both drew blood, and Anita was joining the fray, two daggers in hand, approaching to flank and cut the creature down at the back of its legs. She sliced, and it teetered, falling forwards, spewing blood onto the floor, where Gerald had unceremoniously dropped The Fish.

Emboldened by the blood, the fish now hovered in the air, apparently fed by the abomination's blood, and now, it was alive. It looked angry. Damon, recovering from being thrown - saw the fish and run toward it, hammer in hand "FOUL BEAST, DEMON FISH, YOU MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO."

He swung his hammer toward the fish, as the bear-thing tried to swipe away at his back. Gerald parried the bear's attack, and Damon's hammer connected to the side of the fish with the most sickening sound that could only be described as "slop".

The fish fell to the ground, and somehow, for some reason, began arcing bolts of energy around itself. Simultaneously, the bear did not let up on its attacks, knocking both Damon and Gerald to the ground. Anita retreated slightly, and I had retrieved my staff. Marcia was still singing.

Then a bolt of lightning came to me directly from the pulsating fish. My mission had never been simpler. Protect the Fish, at all cost. Destroy all who threatened it. It was only natural. *No, it wasn't, it was unnatural, unholy, but... * I was compelled.

I now had two foes to fight: The Bear, and Damon. He had harmed whatever the fish was, and I would put an end to his meddling with the natural order of things. I rushed to the fish, checking to see if it was okay, compelled by my druidic nature and desire to not see wildlife harmed. The lightning bolt probably hadn't helped my decision making, either. The bear, on the other hand, saw the fish, and was reaching toward it - seeing it as a tasty treat.

The next few moments would determine if I were to live, or if I were to die. I must protect the fish at all costs.

## THE DRUID'S DILEMMA WILL CONTINUE

Space Reserved for Link to Part 9 when published

D R A M A T I S

P E R S O N A E

^{(so far)}

The Druid:
A quiet protagonist-narrator, nameless, female. Lover of wild life. Interested in aquatic welfare. #2 member of Damon hatred club

The Drunken Cleric:
Damon, alcoholic, violent, full of vitriol. Concussed and dazed. Owes Coin.., learning how to be useful by trying to smash down an impregnable barrier

The Fighter:
Gerald, loves fish, gambling, and pumping iron. Fish 3, Damon 0, Goblins 0,

The Hooded Figure:
Anita, sly, calculating, mysterious. Quick, Stabby, can throw things

The Statuesque Bardess:
Marcia, #1 member of the Damon hate fan club, is owed money, sings songs