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Small Beginnings - Final Update 6/18/04, ITEOTWAWKI, AIFF!
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<blockquote data-quote="Enkhidu" data-source="post: 324411" data-attributes="member: 351"><p><strong>"Stairs Make the Worst Battlefields," or "Ground Floor, Everybody Off!"</strong></p><p></p><p>That's right, it's time for a new post, a new Point of View, and (hopefully) more input from you - the readers - on what character <strong>you</strong> want to see next!</p><p></p><p>Guess what - SPOILERS for the Sunless Citadel continue (though in a heavily modified form - dshai527 made a bunch of changes to this thing, from what I've been told/am finding out).</p><p></p><p>Oh, and tip of the day - 2 pirates in a Pinnace don't make an armada, no matter what the governor's daughter might say (maybe d'shai will tell that story at some point, but I <em>really</em> hope he doesn't. It's just embarrassing...).</p><p></p><p>Anyway, without further ado...</p><p></p><p>Enjoy!</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>Theo could feel his fingers slipping on the metal landing as it pulled away from the rising cliff face. The desperate cleric flailed his left arm seeking to dislodge the large wooden shield strapped tightly to his forearm, so that he could find a second handhold and secure his grip. Above him, the priest heard his ally Ashrem, along with his foes, get thrown to the landing and scramble madly to avoid sliding off the slanting switchback. </p><p></p><p>Theo grunted, forcing all his strength into his aching fingers. The priest knew he could not hold on for long, but he needed to maintain his hold long enough for the slowly teetering landing to shift back towards the vine covered rock wall. To speed up the movement, the priest began kicking his legs to force the landing back into its moorings. Just as he felt the stairs shift though, fur-tufted bodies bowled into the priest, breaking his already fragile hold on the iron landing. </p><p></p><p>For a moment it seemed as if time stopped, as Theo and three clawing rats hung in mid air; then the old cleric felt Gea’s Grasp enclose his body and yank downward. Frantically he reached out, grabbing and clawing at the air in a desperate attempt to find something to save him from the stone teeth that waited below, promising to smash his bones. Images of his life flashed through his head: his brother, his marriage, the Demon War, the burial of his wife, Muriel, and his finally his vow to Zuras that he would find vengeance for her death. </p><p></p><p>With thunderous rage, Theo lashed out towards the vine coated wall one last time. “Zuras help me now so that my vow does not go unfulfilled!” As if in answer, the priest’s fingers met the resistance of dried foliage. Quickly the priest closed his fingers around the rotting vines, trying to haul himself in towards their safe embrace, but vine after vine broke underneath his great weight until his fingers felt as if they were being yanked from his palm.</p><p></p><p>With each snap of broken vine, Theo could feel himself slowing and with renewed effort he plunged his arm into the tangled mess. Since he had been unable to dislodge his immense shield, the priest now buried its edge into the mesh as well. For a moment, he thought it would work, but quickly realized it would not be enough and tucked himself behind his shield, bracing himself for the inevitable impact.</p><p></p><p>The impact was not quite what the priest had expected: instead of one heavy and fatal impact, his body was assaulted with a dozen small ones. As he hit the widening base of the plateau, his head slammed into his shield so hard he nearly bit his tongue in two, while his legs pounded into each other with such force that they felt fused into one. Dazed, Theo bounced down the angled cliff side, rolling over and over so all sides of his body were equally pummeled by the rocky facing. </p><p></p><p>When he finally rolled to a stop, Theo felt as if he had been caught in a wheat grinder and somehow survived. Blood flowed freely from his mouth and his head felt as if it weighed more than the chain armor he wore. Fast moving spots plagued his vision of a now rotating world, while a dark fog assaulted his thoughts, making both movement and comprehension difficult. Worst, he could no longer feel his shield arm. Focusing his thoughts and his strength, the cleric tried to regain his feet and signal his comrades that he was okay, but as he lifted his head, the world swam and a hissing noise came from high above. The cleric was not the only one to survive the fall. </p><p></p><p>Grim faced, Theo painfully turned his head to see two of the red-eyed rats running down the vines, like squirrels running down a tree. He swore as he tried to shake the cobwebs from his brain. Realizing that he only had heartbeats before they were upon him, the cleric swung his backpack around using his good arm, hoping that the padded box that held Father Lion’s healing potions was still intact. Flipping the metal latch, Theo yanked open the small box, letting out a small sigh of relief at the sight of the undamaged bottles. He snatched one and ripped the wax seal off with his teeth. Taking a deep breath to prepare for what he knew was to come, the priest drained the contents of the small silver vial. </p><p></p><p>Theo felt as if a fire had erupted in his mouth and the cleric tensed as he felt the flames spread, igniting every nerve throughout his body. The sensation of the dwarven healing drought wasn’t exactly painful, but at the same time it was none too pleasant to the aged priest. He felt the pulling and stretching of bone and muscle as his wounds mended and his blood clotted in an instant. Then with a shudder, he found his feet as the pair of rats bounded to the ground. </p><p></p><p>The burning sensation passed as he stared at the rats and his eyes narrowed as he saw that one of them stood over his flail. With a grunt, he lowered his shoulder and charged in, raising his shield in front of him; the rats screeched as he plowed into the one guarding his weapon, knocking it backward into the vines. The other rat skittered around behind him, and snapped ineffectively at his legs.</p><p></p><p>The aging priest bent low and pivoted in place, grasping the haft of his flail as he did. Then with a single motion he brought the spiked head and chain in a huge arc and down into the back of the biting rat. With the crunch of bone, the heavy threshing knob snapped the rodent’s spine and drove it into the rock strewn ground, leaving a slowly spreading patch of crimson. </p><p></p><p>Pain ripped through Theo’s senses as the cleric realized he had fallen prey to the rat’s cunning flank. He pulled away as blood dripped from the fresh gash that adorned his left thigh and turned to face his adversary, who seemed to mock the cleric by licking the blood from its snout. Gritting his teeth, the warrior priest stormed forward with his flail whistling out before him. </p><p></p><p>Theo felt his mind slip as his training took over. He could hear the calls of the arms masters as he swung his weapon with deadly accuracy, barely noting the sharp pain in his forearm. He felt blow after blow land on the fur covered hide of his target, as impact after impact registered on his shield. With a final thud, the priest realized that his enemy lay still, its life essence flowing into the blood soaked soil. </p><p></p><p>Theo breathed a relieved sigh and said a little prayer, “By the rain, Winged Lord, I owe you thanks.” He looked up toward the stairs. The iron railings and platforms had stopped swaying, and his companions seemed to have dealt with the surviving rats: with Ashrem leading the way, the four began making their way slowly down the remaining switchbacks. Bringing his attention back to the now quiet ground, the cleric saw the corpses of his two adversaries, as well as the splattered remains of what once was the third rat. Then, rounding the base of the plateau and looking out into the fog, Theo saw something that took his breath away.</p><p></p><p>There, secluded in a crevice, stood a keep. Hidden from view by the mists, and separated from the landing by a small courtyard, it seemed untouched by time, save for the heavy layer of vines that covered brick and cobblestone. Turning back toward the stair, he waved to his young friends and took a deep breath to call them down when he heard the rustling of vines up ahead.</p><p></p><p>Moments later, he was running toward the stair with a half dozen rats in pursuit…</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>Next time!</p><p></p><p>"Crossing the Courtyard" or "Chutes and Ladders"</p><p></p><p>(And if my cohort keeps making me write these stupid titles, I'm going to make him start posting. And here I thought the pirate thing was embarrassing...)</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Enkhidu, post: 324411, member: 351"] [b]"Stairs Make the Worst Battlefields," or "Ground Floor, Everybody Off!"[/b] That's right, it's time for a new post, a new Point of View, and (hopefully) more input from you - the readers - on what character [B]you[/B] want to see next! Guess what - SPOILERS for the Sunless Citadel continue (though in a heavily modified form - dshai527 made a bunch of changes to this thing, from what I've been told/am finding out). Oh, and tip of the day - 2 pirates in a Pinnace don't make an armada, no matter what the governor's daughter might say (maybe d'shai will tell that story at some point, but I [I]really[/I] hope he doesn't. It's just embarrassing...). Anyway, without further ado... Enjoy! ***** Theo could feel his fingers slipping on the metal landing as it pulled away from the rising cliff face. The desperate cleric flailed his left arm seeking to dislodge the large wooden shield strapped tightly to his forearm, so that he could find a second handhold and secure his grip. Above him, the priest heard his ally Ashrem, along with his foes, get thrown to the landing and scramble madly to avoid sliding off the slanting switchback. Theo grunted, forcing all his strength into his aching fingers. The priest knew he could not hold on for long, but he needed to maintain his hold long enough for the slowly teetering landing to shift back towards the vine covered rock wall. To speed up the movement, the priest began kicking his legs to force the landing back into its moorings. Just as he felt the stairs shift though, fur-tufted bodies bowled into the priest, breaking his already fragile hold on the iron landing. For a moment it seemed as if time stopped, as Theo and three clawing rats hung in mid air; then the old cleric felt Gea’s Grasp enclose his body and yank downward. Frantically he reached out, grabbing and clawing at the air in a desperate attempt to find something to save him from the stone teeth that waited below, promising to smash his bones. Images of his life flashed through his head: his brother, his marriage, the Demon War, the burial of his wife, Muriel, and his finally his vow to Zuras that he would find vengeance for her death. With thunderous rage, Theo lashed out towards the vine coated wall one last time. “Zuras help me now so that my vow does not go unfulfilled!” As if in answer, the priest’s fingers met the resistance of dried foliage. Quickly the priest closed his fingers around the rotting vines, trying to haul himself in towards their safe embrace, but vine after vine broke underneath his great weight until his fingers felt as if they were being yanked from his palm. With each snap of broken vine, Theo could feel himself slowing and with renewed effort he plunged his arm into the tangled mess. Since he had been unable to dislodge his immense shield, the priest now buried its edge into the mesh as well. For a moment, he thought it would work, but quickly realized it would not be enough and tucked himself behind his shield, bracing himself for the inevitable impact. The impact was not quite what the priest had expected: instead of one heavy and fatal impact, his body was assaulted with a dozen small ones. As he hit the widening base of the plateau, his head slammed into his shield so hard he nearly bit his tongue in two, while his legs pounded into each other with such force that they felt fused into one. Dazed, Theo bounced down the angled cliff side, rolling over and over so all sides of his body were equally pummeled by the rocky facing. When he finally rolled to a stop, Theo felt as if he had been caught in a wheat grinder and somehow survived. Blood flowed freely from his mouth and his head felt as if it weighed more than the chain armor he wore. Fast moving spots plagued his vision of a now rotating world, while a dark fog assaulted his thoughts, making both movement and comprehension difficult. Worst, he could no longer feel his shield arm. Focusing his thoughts and his strength, the cleric tried to regain his feet and signal his comrades that he was okay, but as he lifted his head, the world swam and a hissing noise came from high above. The cleric was not the only one to survive the fall. Grim faced, Theo painfully turned his head to see two of the red-eyed rats running down the vines, like squirrels running down a tree. He swore as he tried to shake the cobwebs from his brain. Realizing that he only had heartbeats before they were upon him, the cleric swung his backpack around using his good arm, hoping that the padded box that held Father Lion’s healing potions was still intact. Flipping the metal latch, Theo yanked open the small box, letting out a small sigh of relief at the sight of the undamaged bottles. He snatched one and ripped the wax seal off with his teeth. Taking a deep breath to prepare for what he knew was to come, the priest drained the contents of the small silver vial. Theo felt as if a fire had erupted in his mouth and the cleric tensed as he felt the flames spread, igniting every nerve throughout his body. The sensation of the dwarven healing drought wasn’t exactly painful, but at the same time it was none too pleasant to the aged priest. He felt the pulling and stretching of bone and muscle as his wounds mended and his blood clotted in an instant. Then with a shudder, he found his feet as the pair of rats bounded to the ground. The burning sensation passed as he stared at the rats and his eyes narrowed as he saw that one of them stood over his flail. With a grunt, he lowered his shoulder and charged in, raising his shield in front of him; the rats screeched as he plowed into the one guarding his weapon, knocking it backward into the vines. The other rat skittered around behind him, and snapped ineffectively at his legs. The aging priest bent low and pivoted in place, grasping the haft of his flail as he did. Then with a single motion he brought the spiked head and chain in a huge arc and down into the back of the biting rat. With the crunch of bone, the heavy threshing knob snapped the rodent’s spine and drove it into the rock strewn ground, leaving a slowly spreading patch of crimson. Pain ripped through Theo’s senses as the cleric realized he had fallen prey to the rat’s cunning flank. He pulled away as blood dripped from the fresh gash that adorned his left thigh and turned to face his adversary, who seemed to mock the cleric by licking the blood from its snout. Gritting his teeth, the warrior priest stormed forward with his flail whistling out before him. Theo felt his mind slip as his training took over. He could hear the calls of the arms masters as he swung his weapon with deadly accuracy, barely noting the sharp pain in his forearm. He felt blow after blow land on the fur covered hide of his target, as impact after impact registered on his shield. With a final thud, the priest realized that his enemy lay still, its life essence flowing into the blood soaked soil. Theo breathed a relieved sigh and said a little prayer, “By the rain, Winged Lord, I owe you thanks.” He looked up toward the stairs. The iron railings and platforms had stopped swaying, and his companions seemed to have dealt with the surviving rats: with Ashrem leading the way, the four began making their way slowly down the remaining switchbacks. Bringing his attention back to the now quiet ground, the cleric saw the corpses of his two adversaries, as well as the splattered remains of what once was the third rat. Then, rounding the base of the plateau and looking out into the fog, Theo saw something that took his breath away. There, secluded in a crevice, stood a keep. Hidden from view by the mists, and separated from the landing by a small courtyard, it seemed untouched by time, save for the heavy layer of vines that covered brick and cobblestone. Turning back toward the stair, he waved to his young friends and took a deep breath to call them down when he heard the rustling of vines up ahead. Moments later, he was running toward the stair with a half dozen rats in pursuit… ***** Next time! "Crossing the Courtyard" or "Chutes and Ladders" (And if my cohort keeps making me write these stupid titles, I'm going to make him start posting. And here I thought the pirate thing was embarrassing...) [/QUOTE]
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