Spec fell and was no more. Colden lifted his shield arm to try to block the dragon's wrath, but with no effect; he froze in place and breathed no more. The force of the dragon's icy blast clouted Guran, freezing the dwarf's feet to the floor in a solid brick of ice. His blood froze. The air in his lung turned to ice. Guran fell unconscious and would have slumped to the floor, but permafrost solidified him in place upright; translucent beryl ice encased him as a statue. Roscoe, ever small and stalwart, withstood his colleagues' bane and, though his hair hung in icicles, survived the blast.
After casting a baleful glare at the closed door to the west, Fulgrim turned and fled into the darkness of the hold, away from the horror in the hall.
Ilvara turned leaden eyes to Roscoe. She frowned and opened her mouth to utter but a single word that Roscoe could not make out in his
silenced state; at her command, both spiders turned their lanate bodies toward the Halfling barbarian and advanced. Roscoe saw that though the light on his short sword gifted to him by Guran had been snuffed, Spec's light continued to burn brightly in the dank of Stonefast. With Fulgrim's retreat, Roscoe found himself quite alone. Two spiders advanced, their mistress lying in wait. And somewhere beyond her, the dragon bellowed and thrashed, its length of black chain clanking in sonorous echoes against the stone floor.
FIN