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You draw your sword and dive at the red worm to help Tarquin fight back. You don’t like leaving Ashur on his own with the other one, but he’s a powerful mage and you’re hoping he can handle himself while you help Tarquin, who—like you—only has a low-quality sword to put between himself and the worm’s gaping maw.

As you slash at the worm’s side, you realize that, as fast as you’re opening wounds, it’s closing them.

“It heals itself!” you shout to Tarquin. “Cut faster!”

Fortunately, with two swords working double-time on the red worm’s slimy skin, you eventually manage to deal more damage to it than it can heal before Tarquin leaps onto its head like it’s some kind of archdemon and stabs down dramatically with his sword.

Meanwhile, Ashur has managed to best his worm using as much ice magic as he can call on to freeze it in place and then shatter it with force spells.

“Let’s move on,” he says, edging past the fallen red worm to join you.

Tarquin, covered in worm slime, does not look happy. “I may never be clean again,” he says.

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