The two had fought back and forth across the broken terraces of the undercity, and Coin found himself pressed further and further on the backfoot. He had tried to dodge as many blows from Askyr as he could, but even glancing strikes were heavily damaging when his fists and claws were dripping with that burning toxin.

Similarly, any blows landed by Coin led to his own fists or feet being scorched. Chunks of his blackened flesh were spread about the place, the portions he had jettisoned by force to keep the damage from spreading further.

He could have endured this better if magic had been more potent against him, but that scaly hide could endure a good deal of magical energy. Lightning scorched him but did not burn too deep, and he had shrugged off blasts of thunder and gales of wind without much trouble.

They circled around each other, panting for breath. Coin had lost much of his human visage and stood upright as a spindly and armoured humanoid shape, dark grey in shade.

Askyr sported a few bloodied scars and dark bruises on his scaly hide, but those wounds did little to slow him down. How vexing it was that he couldn't invade those open wounds and eat the bastard from the inside out.

"Getting tired?" he asked, grinning and flashing rows of bloodied fangs.

"Not even close," Coin growled.

Askyr swept at him like a pouncing tiger, and Coin hurled his weight to one side. His talons cleaved the stony ground where Coin had been standing, and he whipped around to kick at the mimic. The blow went wide, striking a nearby wall and blasting a great crater through it.

A funnel of razorwind erupted from Coin's raised hands, obliterating a chunk of the ground beneath Askyr. Yet he anchored himself and remained firm, even as shrapnel bombarded his scales and cut into them.

Askyr lunged again, his talons barely grazing Coin's arm yet still leaving burning trails in his flesh. He countered, backhanding Askyr away and smashing him through a series of walls. Coin hissed, glancing to his now-smoking hand. Even the bone plates he had sprouted to armour himself did little to halt the melting sludge Askyr was constantly sweating.

He huffed, shunting the melting flesh from his body. It was a small wonder Domajor and Cricket had been outmatched. And, really, it was a miracle they were even alive.

Already Askyr was coming back his way, his clawed feet scraping the ground with every step. Coin jumped high, into the shadowy alcove of some overhanging buildings, and watched carefully from this shaded perch. Above he could hear the sounds of his allies in motion, fighting their way down bit by bit, cautiously making their way past the armed squads of goblins.

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"Hiding?" Askyr hissed as he stomped into view. "Scared?"

At first, the misshapen beast had been able to sound almost human. Now when he spoke it was the voice of a beast, savage and guttural, rationality dissolving much as Coin's flesh had.

"Dead. Dead mimic. Gonna kill you good." Blood dripped from the side of his face in thick streams of ichor. The blow had been able to split a portion of his head open, but even this was doing little to slow him. From high up Coin could see the flesh slowly knitting itself back together, albeit slower than Coin's own healing ability. Askyr snapped his head up, hissing.

He saw him plainly, even shrouded in darkness as he was, and hurled himself at Coin with a great burst of strength.

"Shit," Coin hissed, a boom of wind catapulting him toward the misshapen hybrid.

Their fists connected in a great boom of force, sending a quake tearing through Elbrinth. The nearest buildings shattered like glass, and great lumps of debris fell from the shadowy ceiling of the cavern. The two were flung away from each other, Coin's body smashing into a statue of solid iron, sculpted into the semblance of a golem holding a great sphere in his hands.

Much of the metal crumpled and bent around him, and Coin's shout of pain filled the air. His vision was swimming, and with some effort he manage to sit upright. His right fist was twisted and misshapen, his forearm collapsed like an accordion.

It took a lot of effort on his end to fix the wound, the mimic hissing and groaning as he willed the arm into something functional. His healing was slowing, he grimly noted. The more he fought, the more tired he became, the harder it was to repair himself.

Already Askyr was rushing his way again, one arm broken and dangling but steadily repairing itself. His weight smashed into Coin, the statue being smashed apart in passing. The great iron sphere fell from its moorings and crashed to the ground with a powerful tremor. Askyr pinned Coin, landing several harsh blows that made the ground churn and buckle.

Coin struggled and thrashed, but Askyr would not be budged. He endured everything Coin hit him with, overwhelming the mimic with a storm of crushing blows. Bones broke, blood spattered, flesh melted, and for a brief moment... Coin feared he might die.

"Enough."

The voice cut through the cacophony like a knife, and Askyr froze. Not of his own volition, Coin noted through shaking blood-smeared vision. Indeed, the basilisk-man was quivering above the mimic, one blood-coated fist trembling as he tried to bring it down. Then he was flung aside by an unseen force as if he were no more than a sack of potatoes, left to crash atop the ruins of the iron statue.

Coin forced himself to sit upright, his whole body aching and trembling, and he ejected several chunks of blackened flesh off his body.

A figure floated down toward him and hovered above the crater Coin had been smashed into. "Apologies," the masked stranger said. "I did not expect you to come so soon. I would have liked to have met you before any bloodshed could begin... And I must apologise for Askyr. He is passionate, as you can see."

Coin huffed for breath, raising his clawed hands. Lightning danced through his claws, illuminating the gloom. "You're... Lord Bleak," he spat.

"I am." His mask, to Coin's surprise, started to move. It floated away to reveal a ghostly white face beneath. Yet the features were inhumanly sharp, with pointed ears, a jutting jaw, solid red eyes, and a scarred brow. Paleness aside it was a familiar face, though his eyes were filled with an intelligence and rationality that seemed so out of place.

Lord Bleak, Coin knew at once, was a goblin.

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