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((The Father's Day Special -- page 20 of 24))
The platform began to tilt under the frantic, scrambling weight of six more spawn all trying to claw their way onto the eastern edge. And the Lorentians--they were panicking, stumbling, flailing.

Hector struggled. The balance was way off. He had to adjust it. Fix the problem.

Iron spikes shot out along the eastern edge to deal with the stowaways. Some were skewered; most were knocked off. He quickly obliterated the spikes regardless, knowing they would just screw up the balance worse if he didn't.

There were more spawn on the northern and southern sides, but the Rainlords were dealing with them already. He was closest to the western edge, so he had it covered. He just needed to focus on--

A group of five spawn flew up in front of him, no longer mole-like. They had wings. Big ones. And they were coming straight for Hector.

With only a split second to react, he managed to clobber two with haphazard pillars materialized up from his feet, but the other three reached him.

They tackled him in unison, clawing his armor, puncturing the iron in deeply enough to nick his flesh beneath.

Pain. In his right side. His back. His left shoulder.

The frenzy of it stole all of his concentration, and before he could even retaliate, the hovering platform wobbled and dipped sideways. It was enough to toss two of the bastards off him, but Hector was only thinking about the civilians.

Where were they? If they fell off the platform, they wouldn't--he had to make sure they--

Agh.

This last monster on him would not let go. Its claws were like knives, and its feathers like razor blades. The flailing and scratching and growling and shrieking were more than just obnoxious. And they were tumbling together all the while, too.

Full spike defense, he decided.