Drew On- Vs. Ignus

Drew was about to offer Ignus a chance to surrender, to end the bloodshed, but he was spared the speech. Ignus ducked low, flicking his tail out and around, whipping Drew’s legs from beneath him. The Wolf toppled backward, crashing on to the throne. Before he could rise, Ignus had leaped, straddling him, pinning Drew to the chair.

The Wolf struggled to escape the Lizard’s hold, but the hooked claws were buried in his arms, fixing him in place. He snapped his jaws at Ignus’s reptilian face, the Lizard’s eyes blinking as a wicked grin spread across his reed-thin lips. The Lord of Scoria’s bony forehead came down like a hammer blow, cracking Drew’s muzzle and leaving the Werewolf stunned. He was aware of the Lizard’s mouth gaping open, its jaws separating, but he was helpless to stop it.

Darkness enveloped him, the world hot, wet, and terrible. With sick dread he realized his head was in the Lizardlord’s gullet. He tried to shake it loose, open his jaws to bite the monster from the inside, but the Lizard’s constrictive mouth was too powerful, too tight. He could smell Ignus’s stomach acids, noxious and overwhelming, heavy with the stench of bacteria and infection. The monster meant to suffocate him, and was close to succeeding.

Drew’s feet scrabbled at the base of the chair, struggling for purchase on the polished stone floor. His clawed toes found a crack in the flags. Digging in with all his might, he pushed back, straightening his legs. Slowly, the stone throne rocked. With each push the chair shifted looser off its back legs. He felt the Lizard’s tongue flickering over his closed jaws inside its throat. A final shove sent the throne back hard, crashing into the wall behind before lurching forward, sending Wolf and Lizard flying from the seat.

They landed on the grilled floor, the iron grate buckling again. Drew’s arms were now free and he jabbed with the trident dagger and clawed with his hand as he pounded Ignus’s leathery torso. The Lizard choked and gagged, coughing the strangulated Werewolf’s head from its ballooned throat. Drew shook the reptilian Werelord’s saliva from his eyes, glancing up in time to see the stone throne rocking back toward them, sheering from its plinth.

The Wolf rolled clear on to the polished stone floor as the throne crashed down on to Ignus. It landed with a bone-crunching clang, metal screeching as the grate tore free from its housing. Lizard, throne, and twisted grille all disappeared into the sulfurous hole, the screaming of iron against rock mixing with the wails of Ignus as the Lord of Scoria plummeted to his doom.

B3 P3 C1