We all approach the glowing wall as Sephram walks in toward where the river still runs through the crystalline ground.
“That's odd, I guess the crystallization has stopped growing,” Lady Averdine indicates where her barrier meets the ground. “It used to be growing right up to that spot, even climbing upward, slowly trying to overcome the wall.”
Sure enough there's about half a foot between the edge of the strange growth and the barrier’s foot.
Our attention is then grabbed by a splash. We look back toward the river and Sephram. Out of the water have climbed two more amalgamations. One shares the features of a duck and a beaver, or maybe it is just the features of a platypus. It also must have caught a crayfish. Two large pincers extend from additional arms near its front. The other seems to have the bodily features of an otter, the head of a frog and is slightly smaller than the first.
Sephram, whose motions read of tenseness the whole time he stood near the Lady, now seems relaxed in the face of a pair of slightly more than wolf-sized enemies. His stance is wide and aggressive, each sword held toward one of two enemies. The amount of time before any of them make a further move is long enough for the lot of us to draw our crossbows. We begin loading as the first move is made.
The frog-otter, in a motion similar to what I've seen before, launches a spear-like tongue at Sephram. Before I even have time to give warning, he deflects it with the longsword in his right hand. Sidestepping, he slashes a portion of it off before it recedes. The other begins to approach him, its gait rather comical and clumsy-seeming as it totters along.
The frog-otter also begins to run at him, but faster and with less confusion among its limbs. It leaps at him only to be met by what I can only describe as a whirlwind of steel. Not shifting his feet at all, Sephram brings his blades around in swift circular strokes, each making contact with either a crunch as fractured pieces of the beast’s armor fall to the ground or a softer sound as the blade meets an unprotected section. His speed is hard to follow, as pieces of the amalgam fall to the ground.
The duck-thing has made its approach in this time, despite being hit by a volley of our crossbow fire, most of which bounced harmlessly off of the hard plates covering it. Sephram turns and defends himself from a surprisingly fast barrage of punches and grabs made by the lobster-like claws of the thing. Only one makes it past his guard and contacts despite his dodges. It does nothing more than make him step back a pace with the force. His chest plate takes the blow, not even leaving a dent.
Moving around the beast so as to make it turn slowly leaving only one claw to contend with, Sephram begins his own offensive. Using the longsword to fend off the closer claw's strikes, he brings his other foreign blade down right where the oddly placed extra arm meets the body. It falls lifelessly to the ground. The more confident of us launch a second volley at the two locked in close quarters. One, probably fired by the rookie, deflects off Sephram's vambrace, the rest either stick in the duck-thing's front or bouncing ineffectively to the ground.
With its remaining arm the creature manages to grab Sephram's leg. Before it can take advantage of this, Sephram severs the limb. He follows with a thrust that goes straight through one eye on the creature's duck-like head, and comes out the other. Spasming slightly for a second or two, it slumps over.
I hear the men exchange coins as Sephram stomps the ground twice and yells, “Any more?!”
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