Most Precious of Treasures: Chapter 7: In the Lair of the Beast
Chapter 7: In the Lair of the Beast
He went alone. Save for a few supplies gathered from various sources, he also went empty-handed.
Swords and guns had proven useless against the beast. So Prowl would use other methods.
The climb seemed shorter than the last time. Faster, easier. Before long, he was in front of the entrance, staring down into darkness. It was down there. Jazz was down there.
Prowl smiled.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Finding his way back to the chamber the Draken called home was not difficult. It was the only tunnel system without dust. Not to mention Prowl had perfect recall.
Peering around the edge of the cavern, the Praxian did a quick survey of the room.
The Draken was coiled over its pile of ill-gotten goods. Behind him was a large cage, fit for an avian mechanimal. Inside the cage, curled into a small, silver ball, was Jazz.
The anger that had fueled him thus far rose again, to a blazing peak.
This monster... He would pay, and pay dearly. Prowl kept what was his, and any who opposed him? Suffice to say, they did not last long.
One item was taken out of subspace; a small canister. He pushed a small button and tossed, directly toward Jazz, across the room, on the other side of the monster as himself.
Smoke hissed out from miniscule openings as the Draken turned to face his captive. The monster got a face full of the gas, and reeled backward, coughing as his intakes sputtered. Stumbling, it stepped backward and collapsed.
Prowl grinned.
How no one had thought to use some form of sleeping gas in the past, he did not know. But he had, and it worked.
He strode confidently to the monster and pulled out a long blade - not a sword, but a katana, one of the long, thin blades of his homeland. Finding a gap in the scales of the beast's chest, he drove the blade in and in, down and down, until he could feel the life of the monster's spark draining out along the metal.
Then, just to be sure, he drove the katana another foot deeper, a wicked snarl on his face.
The blade came free with the quiet hiss of metal on metal, and Prowl stood straighter, staring down at the dead body of the Draken.
He went alone. Save for a few supplies gathered from various sources, he also went empty-handed.
Swords and guns had proven useless against the beast. So Prowl would use other methods.
The climb seemed shorter than the last time. Faster, easier. Before long, he was in front of the entrance, staring down into darkness. It was down there. Jazz was down there.
Prowl smiled.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Finding his way back to the chamber the Draken called home was not difficult. It was the only tunnel system without dust. Not to mention Prowl had perfect recall.
Peering around the edge of the cavern, the Praxian did a quick survey of the room.
The Draken was coiled over its pile of ill-gotten goods. Behind him was a large cage, fit for an avian mechanimal. Inside the cage, curled into a small, silver ball, was Jazz.
The anger that had fueled him thus far rose again, to a blazing peak.
This monster... He would pay, and pay dearly. Prowl kept what was his, and any who opposed him? Suffice to say, they did not last long.
One item was taken out of subspace; a small canister. He pushed a small button and tossed, directly toward Jazz, across the room, on the other side of the monster as himself.
Smoke hissed out from miniscule openings as the Draken turned to face his captive. The monster got a face full of the gas, and reeled backward, coughing as his intakes sputtered. Stumbling, it stepped backward and collapsed.
Prowl grinned.
How no one had thought to use some form of sleeping gas in the past, he did not know. But he had, and it worked.
He strode confidently to the monster and pulled out a long blade - not a sword, but a katana, one of the long, thin blades of his homeland. Finding a gap in the scales of the beast's chest, he drove the blade in and in, down and down, until he could feel the life of the monster's spark draining out along the metal.
Then, just to be sure, he drove the katana another foot deeper, a wicked snarl on his face.
The blade came free with the quiet hiss of metal on metal, and Prowl stood straighter, staring down at the dead body of the Draken.