The Last Satyr: The Two Paths Part 2
You Bitch!

The revenge of Lolth was great.

The boy had heard her woman’s shriek when he drove his great knife inwards. He also knew the clawed leg that had missed him was undoubtedly being pulled back for another try at him. He pulled himself up on top of the limb, having severed his way into its joint, just as that claw struck again, hitting right where he had been moments before.

Now he reached down and yanked the blade back out of the joint to use it on her again. Yet he heard not the expected bubbling, boiling sound of black demon blood from the wound. Had he drawn no blood? He had heard her scream.

The leg he was on was now moving, her enormous body now spinning around to get at him. Yet he still clung to that leg, riding it at its thickest joint. So, when she turned, he turned with her, riding on her leg, and she could not get at him. He took the knife and drove it into the joint again, this time from the other side.

Again, there came a scream of wrath, fury, and agony. This time the injured leg missed a step and buckled, and to avoid falling off, the boy leaped onto her thorax to next attack her head. Now the spider goddess went wild. Unable to reach him by any means at all except to buck him off, she now unsuccessfully tried to do so. Yet satyrs are great riders of bucking horses and the boy not only stayed on, but he also ripped the blade out of the joint, its back saw teeth tearing even more of her flesh on its removal. Lolth not only knew the pain of it but its deadly purpose. The boy’s next blade blow would be aimed for her unprotected head.

Suddenly, the monstrous spider goddess charged forward. The boy moved forward to replace her head for the fatal blow. But Lolth was far wiser and smarter than any satyr boy. She just as abruptly stopped, lowered her head, raised her tail, and let the boy’s own forward momentum send him flying over the top of her. His hated knife lef his hands and his body nearly broken as it landed on the hard rocks ahead of her.

Lolth could have killed him then but turned around instead, ignoring the satyr boy who was no longer a threat, so that she might face any other would-be attackers, especially that drider. Yet there were none to face her. All were defeated. She found herself facing only the writhing elf who had struck her with an arrow. Though she had certainly sent him quite a distance with her blow, she had not cut him in half as intended. As he was still moving, she sought to rectify that now.

She stumbled painfully on her injured leg to reach him. He had an elfin light and held it up as he drew his dagger, aware she was coming, but it was meaningless to her. With her spell of darkness, he could not actually see to strike at her, merely a black cloud approaching. And she hardly feared the dagger of an elf.

She paused over him. Driving a pointed claw through his chest was too simple for him. No, this one was more deserving. This one had put the arrow in her. He had earned a particularly slow, painful death for that. That meant using her fangs. They would rot his very flesh!

With one foreleg, she easily flipped his dagger away, leaned down, and put her fangs into him, almost as if with a kiss.

No sooner did she bite down than a woman’s harsh voice rang out behind her in warning.

“Get away from him, you bitch!”

Lolth rose from the elf. It was the drider. How could she possibly be so beautiful? Or still alive for that matter? Yet with her demonic powers, she had regained her legs and was standing, red eyes blazing and ready to do battle again.

Injured leg or not, Lolth was determined to kill her this time. She made her turn, stumbling again to face the drider.

Only the drider moved much faster now than Lolth. The drider, with its demonically enhanced strength and reflexes, was already faster than she was, anyway. For Lolth was not of demon blood but the silver blood of a keeper. Yet at her size it wasn't needed. Only now she was slowed even further by her stumbling, injured leg. The drider circled and pounced on her from behind when she could not turn with it.

This time, the drider attacked high, so that Lolth failed to bring her greatly superior size and weight down to bear against her. The drider was actually climbing up on top of her back. Lolth sought to shake her off and discard her, but the drider had eight legs by which to hang on and was not to be removed. Lolth found the disadvantage to be merely an inconvenience, for the drider’s claws could no more penetrate her armored spider shell than hers could pierce the drider’s. The position seemed to be one of a stalemate—but not for long.

For the drider attacked Lolth’s unprotected face with both her fangs and claw-like nails. Although Lolth was immune to her drider poison, she was still being bitten in the neck and bitten hard. Again, Lolth could not throw her off and she became desperate against the painful fangs in her neck, sucking away her life’s blood while her claws raked Lolth’s face. She finally rolled onto her back, where she could again use her superior size and weight to knock the drider off. It worked in that Leradien lost her hold on her, but it failed to bring Lolth out on top. It was back to even again.

Yet Lolth had by now had enough. She broke and ran for her life, dragging her hind leg behind her. In addition to her injured leg, she had two arrows sticking out of her neck, fang bites, and claw marks on her face. Her magnificent, holy body had somehow been defiled and suffered injury. She was in pain for the first time in her life and she found it was not to her liking.

At her size and with her fear, she made good speed. Even with the injured leg, she managed to leave the drider behind who still also lay on her back, legs all scrambling to right herself. And, as Lolth finally made good her escape, she wailed in the agony of pain and self-pity.

“Oh! My perfect body!” she sobbed and cried in lament, “My precious, perfect body! What have they done to it?!”