### 323

The Dakomyd shudders and reels back as your weapon makes impact, sinking deep into flesh that clings like jelly and reeks of a charnel smell that closes your throat. A drop of its watery blood splashes on your arm, eating through your tunic and searing your flesh. Your weapon disintegrates, corroded by the blood. Before you can pull away, a razor-sharp talon snares your cloak and draws you to your doom.

Your life and your quest end here in the crypt of Tekaro Cathedral.

Text copyright © 1985 Joe Dever.
Illustrations copyright © 1985 Gary Chalk.