Tarsa's Struggle

"Priestess, what the hell is going on?" Fred cried.

Tarsa turned her head towards him and stopped struggling for a moment. "Must be some demon of Valmar's!" she gasped. "I'm trying to fight it mentally, but it's winning. Stay back - this isn't your sort of battle. Damn, you've distracted me!" With that she ceased talking and resumed her combined mental and physical struggle.

Fred saw that, in the short time Tarsa had been talking to him, her fingernails and toenails had transformed into formidable claws. Things did not seem to be going well. Her wings seemed to have grown to their full extent now and they were fully spread, some six feet across. Then they began beating, lifting her towards the window, the dark cloud still surrounding her. "I can't control them!" she called.

Seeing what looked like a holy icon of some sort standing on the bedside table, Fred picked it up and threw it into the cloud, hoping that it might have some effect. And it did. The icon disintegrated into a cloud of golden dust and the cloud at once vanished.

1. And so did Tarsa's changes. "Thanks!" she said. "That was quick thinking."
2. But Tarsa's changes did not. "Thanks!" she panted. "But I can't perform my duties looking like this!" "Which no doubt is what they intended," Fred said grimly.
3. But the damage was already done. Tarsa's wings continued beating, against her will flying her out of the window.

Add New Option

Go Back

View Forward Story Tree
View Back Story Tree