Thomas Hobbes
First Post
Oh dear sweet lord I cannot stop laughing. Simon and Smith are priceless.
-
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X-PATH: Stick Your Citadel Where the Sun Don't Shine (Complete 5 Aug 2004)
- Thread starter Capellan
- Start date
Capellan
Explorer
7: Goblin Your Food
"The apostate Goblin went this way." Smith pointed, "We should follow."
Beverly examined her nails,
"Wasn't there a pit trap along that corridor?"
"True." Smith considered this point, "We need some way to spike the trap open, so we can see it -"
He was interrupted by a soft thud as Fabio tossed the body of a kobold into the hole. The usually taciturn man gestured at the many corpses littered around the room,
"Why don't we just fill it in?"
* * *
Trekar ran to sound the alarm.
It had been several days since he had escaped from the strange outlanders who destroyed the kobolds, and he had begun to hope they had gone, or been killed themselves. Now they were back, attacking the guards Durnn had set on this passageway, after Trekar brought word of the invaders.
Behind him, he could hear the clash of weapons and the shouts of the follower of the human god, Mormon. The outlanders were strong. Five guards would not be enough. He had to alert the whole tribe, and then they would feast on human flesh.
* * *
Standing amidst the bodies of the fallen goblin guards, Beverly poked Simon with her perfectly manicured toe. The young 'Super Ninja' lay unconscious at the room's doorway, having been felled as he tried to follow a fleeing goblin.
"Should have paid more attention the ones that weren't running." She opined, before glancing at Smith, "Is he gonna live?"
"He will survive." Smith closed the Book of Mormon with an audible snap. "But I do not believe he will recover consciousness for some hours."
"We don't have hours." Beverly reminded him, pointing at the closed door. Beyond, there were sounds of shouting and commotion in the distance, surely preparations for the goblins to assault the group, as they did once before. "We'll be lucky if we have minutes, before that lot turn up."
"We will overcome them." Smith glanced around, "We can defend from this doorway and use grenades to break up their rush. We will triumph because the Good Lord makes us strong."
"Riiiight." Beverly rolled her eyes and popped her gum, "It won't have anything to do with our good friends Smith & Wesson."
* * *
"Now this is the kind of action I was talking about." Patton slammed his bony fist down on the metal arm rest and gave a dry cackle, "Reminds me of some of the fighting at the Bulge. Hot and hard and right up close."
Jacobsen turned slightly green as the old man cackled again.
"Did you see the way the Mormon pulped that one's head? You never would have got that kind of impact from an M1."
"If you say so, sir."
"I do say so, Jacobsen." Patton rubbed his hands together, dead skin visibly flaking away as he did so, "Oh, nice shot from the pretty-boy. Doesn't like it when they hit the girl, does he?"
"He's a model gentleman, sir."
"Gentleman, my ass. He's got his mind on 'the prize'." The cadaverous General gave a dirty chuckle, "Speaking of which - you put the standard bra and panties clause in her contract?"
"Of course, sir."
"Good work, Jacobsen."
* * *
Internal Memorandum
From: Head Office
To: WCX Payroll
Subject: Pay Scale Variation
The following personnel have been restored to active employment, at the pay scales listed below, effective immediately.
Joseph Isaiah Smith
Current Payroll Scale: PAL1
New Payroll Scale: PAL2 (Bonus Scale: FTR1)
Floyd of the Church of the King
Current Payroll Scale: CLR1
New Payroll Scale: CLR2
Fabulous Fabio
Current Payroll Scale: BRD1
New Payroll Scale: BRD3
Beverly Hills-Hilton
Current Payroll Scale: SOR1
New Payroll Scale: SOR2
"The apostate Goblin went this way." Smith pointed, "We should follow."
Beverly examined her nails,
"Wasn't there a pit trap along that corridor?"
"True." Smith considered this point, "We need some way to spike the trap open, so we can see it -"
He was interrupted by a soft thud as Fabio tossed the body of a kobold into the hole. The usually taciturn man gestured at the many corpses littered around the room,
"Why don't we just fill it in?"
* * *
Trekar ran to sound the alarm.
It had been several days since he had escaped from the strange outlanders who destroyed the kobolds, and he had begun to hope they had gone, or been killed themselves. Now they were back, attacking the guards Durnn had set on this passageway, after Trekar brought word of the invaders.
Behind him, he could hear the clash of weapons and the shouts of the follower of the human god, Mormon. The outlanders were strong. Five guards would not be enough. He had to alert the whole tribe, and then they would feast on human flesh.
* * *
Standing amidst the bodies of the fallen goblin guards, Beverly poked Simon with her perfectly manicured toe. The young 'Super Ninja' lay unconscious at the room's doorway, having been felled as he tried to follow a fleeing goblin.
"Should have paid more attention the ones that weren't running." She opined, before glancing at Smith, "Is he gonna live?"
"He will survive." Smith closed the Book of Mormon with an audible snap. "But I do not believe he will recover consciousness for some hours."
"We don't have hours." Beverly reminded him, pointing at the closed door. Beyond, there were sounds of shouting and commotion in the distance, surely preparations for the goblins to assault the group, as they did once before. "We'll be lucky if we have minutes, before that lot turn up."
"We will overcome them." Smith glanced around, "We can defend from this doorway and use grenades to break up their rush. We will triumph because the Good Lord makes us strong."
"Riiiight." Beverly rolled her eyes and popped her gum, "It won't have anything to do with our good friends Smith & Wesson."
* * *
"Now this is the kind of action I was talking about." Patton slammed his bony fist down on the metal arm rest and gave a dry cackle, "Reminds me of some of the fighting at the Bulge. Hot and hard and right up close."
Jacobsen turned slightly green as the old man cackled again.
"Did you see the way the Mormon pulped that one's head? You never would have got that kind of impact from an M1."
"If you say so, sir."
"I do say so, Jacobsen." Patton rubbed his hands together, dead skin visibly flaking away as he did so, "Oh, nice shot from the pretty-boy. Doesn't like it when they hit the girl, does he?"
"He's a model gentleman, sir."
"Gentleman, my ass. He's got his mind on 'the prize'." The cadaverous General gave a dirty chuckle, "Speaking of which - you put the standard bra and panties clause in her contract?"
"Of course, sir."
"Good work, Jacobsen."
* * *
Internal Memorandum
From: Head Office
To: WCX Payroll
Subject: Pay Scale Variation
The following personnel have been restored to active employment, at the pay scales listed below, effective immediately.
Joseph Isaiah Smith
Current Payroll Scale: PAL1
New Payroll Scale: PAL2 (Bonus Scale: FTR1)
Floyd of the Church of the King
Current Payroll Scale: CLR1
New Payroll Scale: CLR2
Fabulous Fabio
Current Payroll Scale: BRD1
New Payroll Scale: BRD3
Beverly Hills-Hilton
Current Payroll Scale: SOR1
New Payroll Scale: SOR2
Capellan
Explorer
8: A Cool Reception
After the massive battle with dozens of goblin warriors, the rest of that level of the citadel proved fairly pedestrian. There was some runty little lizard that breathed snowflakes (killed, eaten, tasty); a bunch of non-combatant goblins (just killed) and more of the vicious, black-furred rats that always seemed to eviscerate someone in the group (killed with extreme prejudice, and the remains jumped up and down on in victory).
Eventually, with Floyd back from his holy celebration and Simon once more vanished on sick leave ("I was seriously injured, homes."), the group found themselves at the top of a deep shaft, leading further down into the remains of the ancient fortress. The walls of the shaft were lined with scores of thick, grey-green vines, all lit up by a sickly glow from the cavern far below.
"Looks about eighty feet down." Floyd observed, "With some big ol' pile o' luminescent fungus at the bottom. I'm figurin' that can't be good."
"I'll go down first." Smith determined, breaking out the Nike-branded climbing gear.
No-one volunteered to go second, and thus it was that the Mormon reached the bottom the shaft alone. Finding that his feet sunk a few inches into the compost-like mound, releasing a rank odour of decay, he wrinkled his nose.
Which is roughly the point that the cloaked figures rushed him.
* * *
"Nice move from the Elvisite." Patton cackled, "Bet going down the rope like that burned the skin off his hands. Would've made great footage, if only he coulda shot straight, at the end."
Jacobsen nodded sycophantically as one of the cloaked figures disappeared in a spray of ragged cloth and bone shards.
"Mr Smith seems to be quite effective with that shotgun, however." He observed, scratching notes in his journal. Merchandising deal with Remington for Smith? Splice Floyd abseil footage with killing something on sell-through.
Patton noticed the jerky movements of Jacobsen's pen, and a camera swung in to give the corpse-like General a view of the notes.
"Good work, Jacobsen." He grunted approvingly, "If the damn Commies can doctor their video, why not us?"
The lead of Jacobsen's pencil snapped as the comment made him start.
"Yes, sir." He managed weakly at last, with a nervous smile, "Can't let those Reds get the better of us, sir."
* * *
Given his name, and the trauma of growing up with it in a Bugbear clan, it probably wasn't surprising that Balsag the Hunter was a certifiable sociopath. After he'd snapped at the age of twelve, massacring his parents and over a dozen of his most frequent tormentors, he had fled to the ancient ruins in the canyon, knowing that none of the clan would follow him into its reputedly haunted halls.
Now, crouched in the darkness with his only friends in the world, the slavering dire rats 'Grip' and 'Fang', he watched the intruders while picking at his teeth with a dagger. The humans were oblivious to his presence, their attention on the skeletons and twig blights they had just destroyed.
Balsag grinned at that. Belak would not be pleased to have even more of his bizarre creations destroyed. Well, the so-called 'Outcast' could kiss his hairy rump. Especially when Balsag brought him the human's skulls.
With a bellow, he charged out of the darkness.
* * *
The massive, furry brute slammed its morningstar into Fabio's chest, sending the handsome young man staggering backwards. The remaining rat - the one that hadn't been blown to pieces by a shotgun blast - snapped at Fabio's leg, dragging him to the ground. With a triumphant snarl, its master turned on Floyd.
Smith, his boots slipping in his own blood, staggered back into the fray. His vision was still a little blurred from the blow he had already taken, but surely - surely - the monster had to go down soon. Gore matted the fur on its chest, from where he had wounded it earlier.
There was a squeal from behind the Mormon as Fabio finally drove his blade through the rat's brain.
"Floyd! Get clear!" Smith waved his arm. The other man swirled his silver lame cloak to confuse the creature, then dodged to the left, opening up a space. Smith stepped into it, gasping wetly for breath as blood seeped into his lungs.
"Hur hur hur." The creature's shoulders shook with laughter as the Mormon swayed before it. Vicious, pig-like eyes glinted as it raised its wickedly-spiked weapon.
"Not this time, heretic."
Smith's arm swung up.
The shotgun thundered.
After the massive battle with dozens of goblin warriors, the rest of that level of the citadel proved fairly pedestrian. There was some runty little lizard that breathed snowflakes (killed, eaten, tasty); a bunch of non-combatant goblins (just killed) and more of the vicious, black-furred rats that always seemed to eviscerate someone in the group (killed with extreme prejudice, and the remains jumped up and down on in victory).
Eventually, with Floyd back from his holy celebration and Simon once more vanished on sick leave ("I was seriously injured, homes."), the group found themselves at the top of a deep shaft, leading further down into the remains of the ancient fortress. The walls of the shaft were lined with scores of thick, grey-green vines, all lit up by a sickly glow from the cavern far below.
"Looks about eighty feet down." Floyd observed, "With some big ol' pile o' luminescent fungus at the bottom. I'm figurin' that can't be good."
"I'll go down first." Smith determined, breaking out the Nike-branded climbing gear.
No-one volunteered to go second, and thus it was that the Mormon reached the bottom the shaft alone. Finding that his feet sunk a few inches into the compost-like mound, releasing a rank odour of decay, he wrinkled his nose.
Which is roughly the point that the cloaked figures rushed him.
* * *
"Nice move from the Elvisite." Patton cackled, "Bet going down the rope like that burned the skin off his hands. Would've made great footage, if only he coulda shot straight, at the end."
Jacobsen nodded sycophantically as one of the cloaked figures disappeared in a spray of ragged cloth and bone shards.
"Mr Smith seems to be quite effective with that shotgun, however." He observed, scratching notes in his journal. Merchandising deal with Remington for Smith? Splice Floyd abseil footage with killing something on sell-through.
Patton noticed the jerky movements of Jacobsen's pen, and a camera swung in to give the corpse-like General a view of the notes.
"Good work, Jacobsen." He grunted approvingly, "If the damn Commies can doctor their video, why not us?"
The lead of Jacobsen's pencil snapped as the comment made him start.
"Yes, sir." He managed weakly at last, with a nervous smile, "Can't let those Reds get the better of us, sir."
* * *
Given his name, and the trauma of growing up with it in a Bugbear clan, it probably wasn't surprising that Balsag the Hunter was a certifiable sociopath. After he'd snapped at the age of twelve, massacring his parents and over a dozen of his most frequent tormentors, he had fled to the ancient ruins in the canyon, knowing that none of the clan would follow him into its reputedly haunted halls.
Now, crouched in the darkness with his only friends in the world, the slavering dire rats 'Grip' and 'Fang', he watched the intruders while picking at his teeth with a dagger. The humans were oblivious to his presence, their attention on the skeletons and twig blights they had just destroyed.
Balsag grinned at that. Belak would not be pleased to have even more of his bizarre creations destroyed. Well, the so-called 'Outcast' could kiss his hairy rump. Especially when Balsag brought him the human's skulls.
With a bellow, he charged out of the darkness.
* * *
The massive, furry brute slammed its morningstar into Fabio's chest, sending the handsome young man staggering backwards. The remaining rat - the one that hadn't been blown to pieces by a shotgun blast - snapped at Fabio's leg, dragging him to the ground. With a triumphant snarl, its master turned on Floyd.
Smith, his boots slipping in his own blood, staggered back into the fray. His vision was still a little blurred from the blow he had already taken, but surely - surely - the monster had to go down soon. Gore matted the fur on its chest, from where he had wounded it earlier.
There was a squeal from behind the Mormon as Fabio finally drove his blade through the rat's brain.
"Floyd! Get clear!" Smith waved his arm. The other man swirled his silver lame cloak to confuse the creature, then dodged to the left, opening up a space. Smith stepped into it, gasping wetly for breath as blood seeped into his lungs.
"Hur hur hur." The creature's shoulders shook with laughter as the Mormon swayed before it. Vicious, pig-like eyes glinted as it raised its wickedly-spiked weapon.
"Not this time, heretic."
Smith's arm swung up.
The shotgun thundered.
Capellan
Explorer
9: These Goblins are a Real Bugbear
"Now that's what I call a fight." Patton remarked with satisfaction. "Blood everywhere, people slippin' on entrails - that's the kinda stuff that audiences pay to see."
"Yes sir." Jacobsen agreed dutifully.
"Of course, now we gotta wait a whole day until they're ready to go down again." The ancient General curled his lip in annoyance, "These boys have good moments, but they need to build up some stamina."
"Indeed, Sir. Though I believe we will be able to eliminate that problem for the telecasts." Jacobsen flicked through his clipboard of notes, "Editing have been working on compiling a ten-part series to cover the whole run. We'll have to blur some of the content for TV, of course, but that just means better sales on the tapes and laser discs."
"Good work, Jacobsen." Patton drummed his bony fingers on the metal desk, "Might not hurt to start building up their profile ahead o' time. We've got a swimsuit issue coming up soon. Pull the girl out of there and get her in the photo shoot. Include some stills from that big fight with the goblins. Put her back in once she shoot's done."
"Is that wise, sir? What if she gets killed before the issue runs?"
"Then we'll border the pages in black. Get on it, Jacobsen."
* * *
"Are you ready to continue, Mister Anderson?"
"Call me Floyd, Joe." The scion of the King buckled the last strap his rhinestone-studded leather armour, "Not even mah daddy was 'Mister Anderson'." Floyd paused to check the condition of his coif, "He was either Mister Jenner or Mr Ryan; mah momma never was too sure."
"I shall pray for your mother's eternal soul."
"Ah'm sure she will appreciate the gesture, Joe." Floyd's mouth momentarily twitched into something suspiciously like a smirk, "Ah'll do the same for yours." As the Mormon nearly choked in indignation, the Elvisite continued blithely, "How 'bout we head down again and see what all we can kill?"
* * *
"No sign of the big furry bastard's body." Floyd commented as they reached the base of the shaft once more. "Someone musta taken it."
"Maybe they wanted him for fertiliser." Fabio gestured at the huge pile of rotting vegetation, with fungi of all kinds sprouting from it.
"Whoever they are, they're a little too organised for mah tastes." Floyd slapped the butt of his shotgun, newly purchased from the WCX store. "I'm glad I bought l'il Sadie, here."
The cave had three exits; one led to a dead end, the second to a deep chasm, dark and impassable. Floyd spat over the edge, watching the small white glob disappear into the blackness below. Nobody suggested trying to follow it down.
The third route led to a wooden door, closed and locked. Sadie opened it.
As the last smoking splinters of wood hit the stone flagstones, the three men stepped through the doorway, Floyd methodically reloading as he moved. The hall beyond was wide, the roof supported by dragon-carved pillars. Six doors led out; three to a side. For a moment, nothing stirred except the cordite smoke.
And then all hell broke loose.
Five of the six doors burst open, sallow-skinned goblins boiling forth. One of the creatures ran through the last door, shrieking in its native language. Chunks of stone blasted out of the wall behind it as it ran.
"Damnation!" Smith cursed, pumping his shotgun and unleashing another blast into the onrushing horde. "He'll bring more of them!"
The howling, yammering goblins swarmed around and between the three men, slashing at them with jagged, broad-bladed knives. One stabbed Fabio in the thigh, then ducked behind a pillar as he swung his sword. Stone chips flew from one of the graven dragons, but the goblin went unscathed.
"One down!" Floyd called, his golden guitar severing the neck of a goblin slower or less lucky than its companions.
"Two - aaargh!" Smith's cry of satisfaction was cut short as one of the creatures plunged a dagger deep into his side. Blood ran in thick streams from the wound, and a wet sound crept into the Mormon's breathing.
Floyd cursed, using rather strong terms than "damnation".
"We're getting swamped!" he called, ducking back so that a lunging dagger only scraped its tip across his chest. "If they do get help -"
The last door swing open once more, and another of the huge, fur-covered humanoids strode into the room, swinging a massively spiked morning star as it came.
* * *
"Are we getting this, Jacobsen?"
"Yessir."
"We damn well better be." The General pounded one fist on the desk, his lips splitting in a cadaverous grin. "Win or lose, this is these boys greatest moment. If they get themselves killed, I want to be able to watch it again."
* * *
The second bugbear's morning star smashed into Fabio's ribcage, driving the young man backward in a swirl of over-sprayed hair.
The first one, the fur on its arm matted with blood, bellowed in triumph and slammed its own weapon down on Fabio's wrist. There was a crunch of bone as the wrist snapped, the man's sword flying from his deadened fingers.
"The Lord strike thee." Smith batted aside a goblin's knife with his long empty shotgun, then buried his pick in the creature's brain. Kicking his way past another of the smaller humanoids, the Mormon reached out and touched a hand to the other man's shoulder. "And grant thee aid." Golden energy flared around Fabio's wrist, the bones knitting together just as the pain seemed about to overwhelm him.
The three remaining goblins swarmed over Floyd, now isolated from the others by Smith's move to aid Fabio. One of them fell as he swung his guitar, but the other two plunged their daggers deep into his stomach: hideous wounds that meant a slow death. The Elvisite slumped to his knees, hands clutching the jagged rents.
And the third bugbear strode through the door.
* * *
Floyd hovered on the edge of darkness, sensing more than seeing that the goblins had turned their attention to his companions.
Scrabbling at the smooth stone flagstones, he forced his battered body a few scant feet across the floor, passing through a doorway to lie gasping in one of the six rooms leading off the hall.
Vision swimming in and out of focus, Floyd stumbled his way through the words of one of the King's Great Songs. Warmth flooded out from his gore-spattered stomach, knitting his wounds closed.
Then, spitting curses that would make his mother blush, the young man pushed himself up off the ground and raised Sadie to a firing position.
* * *
"The Elvisite's back up but the Mormon's down!" Patton cackled as he dipped his hand in a huge barrel of pork rinds, "That lung hit musta finally caught up with him."
"Do you think they will win, Sir?"
"One out and one barely moving ... a goblin and a bugbear still in the fight. The Elvisite's done all he can with that last shot. It's all down to the pretty boy, now."
* * *
It was all down to Fabio.
He spun, and stepped back from the last of the massive bugbears. A glance to the left told him Smith was still down, a blood-stained goblin leaning over him. A glance to the right showed that Floyd was fumbling to reload Sadie. Too far, too slow.
His hands crossed over his front, snatching the pistols from his belt. The chrome barrels gleamed as they swung upwards, flames belting from the muzzles as he fired.
Two bodies slumped to the ground.
It had all been down to Fabio, and he had delivered.
And he'd got his best close-up yet, while doing it.
"Now that's what I call a fight." Patton remarked with satisfaction. "Blood everywhere, people slippin' on entrails - that's the kinda stuff that audiences pay to see."
"Yes sir." Jacobsen agreed dutifully.
"Of course, now we gotta wait a whole day until they're ready to go down again." The ancient General curled his lip in annoyance, "These boys have good moments, but they need to build up some stamina."
"Indeed, Sir. Though I believe we will be able to eliminate that problem for the telecasts." Jacobsen flicked through his clipboard of notes, "Editing have been working on compiling a ten-part series to cover the whole run. We'll have to blur some of the content for TV, of course, but that just means better sales on the tapes and laser discs."
"Good work, Jacobsen." Patton drummed his bony fingers on the metal desk, "Might not hurt to start building up their profile ahead o' time. We've got a swimsuit issue coming up soon. Pull the girl out of there and get her in the photo shoot. Include some stills from that big fight with the goblins. Put her back in once she shoot's done."
"Is that wise, sir? What if she gets killed before the issue runs?"
"Then we'll border the pages in black. Get on it, Jacobsen."
* * *
"Are you ready to continue, Mister Anderson?"
"Call me Floyd, Joe." The scion of the King buckled the last strap his rhinestone-studded leather armour, "Not even mah daddy was 'Mister Anderson'." Floyd paused to check the condition of his coif, "He was either Mister Jenner or Mr Ryan; mah momma never was too sure."
"I shall pray for your mother's eternal soul."
"Ah'm sure she will appreciate the gesture, Joe." Floyd's mouth momentarily twitched into something suspiciously like a smirk, "Ah'll do the same for yours." As the Mormon nearly choked in indignation, the Elvisite continued blithely, "How 'bout we head down again and see what all we can kill?"
* * *
"No sign of the big furry bastard's body." Floyd commented as they reached the base of the shaft once more. "Someone musta taken it."
"Maybe they wanted him for fertiliser." Fabio gestured at the huge pile of rotting vegetation, with fungi of all kinds sprouting from it.
"Whoever they are, they're a little too organised for mah tastes." Floyd slapped the butt of his shotgun, newly purchased from the WCX store. "I'm glad I bought l'il Sadie, here."
The cave had three exits; one led to a dead end, the second to a deep chasm, dark and impassable. Floyd spat over the edge, watching the small white glob disappear into the blackness below. Nobody suggested trying to follow it down.
The third route led to a wooden door, closed and locked. Sadie opened it.
As the last smoking splinters of wood hit the stone flagstones, the three men stepped through the doorway, Floyd methodically reloading as he moved. The hall beyond was wide, the roof supported by dragon-carved pillars. Six doors led out; three to a side. For a moment, nothing stirred except the cordite smoke.
And then all hell broke loose.
Five of the six doors burst open, sallow-skinned goblins boiling forth. One of the creatures ran through the last door, shrieking in its native language. Chunks of stone blasted out of the wall behind it as it ran.
"Damnation!" Smith cursed, pumping his shotgun and unleashing another blast into the onrushing horde. "He'll bring more of them!"
The howling, yammering goblins swarmed around and between the three men, slashing at them with jagged, broad-bladed knives. One stabbed Fabio in the thigh, then ducked behind a pillar as he swung his sword. Stone chips flew from one of the graven dragons, but the goblin went unscathed.
"One down!" Floyd called, his golden guitar severing the neck of a goblin slower or less lucky than its companions.
"Two - aaargh!" Smith's cry of satisfaction was cut short as one of the creatures plunged a dagger deep into his side. Blood ran in thick streams from the wound, and a wet sound crept into the Mormon's breathing.
Floyd cursed, using rather strong terms than "damnation".
"We're getting swamped!" he called, ducking back so that a lunging dagger only scraped its tip across his chest. "If they do get help -"
The last door swing open once more, and another of the huge, fur-covered humanoids strode into the room, swinging a massively spiked morning star as it came.
* * *
"Are we getting this, Jacobsen?"
"Yessir."
"We damn well better be." The General pounded one fist on the desk, his lips splitting in a cadaverous grin. "Win or lose, this is these boys greatest moment. If they get themselves killed, I want to be able to watch it again."
* * *
The second bugbear's morning star smashed into Fabio's ribcage, driving the young man backward in a swirl of over-sprayed hair.
The first one, the fur on its arm matted with blood, bellowed in triumph and slammed its own weapon down on Fabio's wrist. There was a crunch of bone as the wrist snapped, the man's sword flying from his deadened fingers.
"The Lord strike thee." Smith batted aside a goblin's knife with his long empty shotgun, then buried his pick in the creature's brain. Kicking his way past another of the smaller humanoids, the Mormon reached out and touched a hand to the other man's shoulder. "And grant thee aid." Golden energy flared around Fabio's wrist, the bones knitting together just as the pain seemed about to overwhelm him.
The three remaining goblins swarmed over Floyd, now isolated from the others by Smith's move to aid Fabio. One of them fell as he swung his guitar, but the other two plunged their daggers deep into his stomach: hideous wounds that meant a slow death. The Elvisite slumped to his knees, hands clutching the jagged rents.
And the third bugbear strode through the door.
* * *
Floyd hovered on the edge of darkness, sensing more than seeing that the goblins had turned their attention to his companions.
Scrabbling at the smooth stone flagstones, he forced his battered body a few scant feet across the floor, passing through a doorway to lie gasping in one of the six rooms leading off the hall.
Vision swimming in and out of focus, Floyd stumbled his way through the words of one of the King's Great Songs. Warmth flooded out from his gore-spattered stomach, knitting his wounds closed.
Then, spitting curses that would make his mother blush, the young man pushed himself up off the ground and raised Sadie to a firing position.
* * *
"The Elvisite's back up but the Mormon's down!" Patton cackled as he dipped his hand in a huge barrel of pork rinds, "That lung hit musta finally caught up with him."
"Do you think they will win, Sir?"
"One out and one barely moving ... a goblin and a bugbear still in the fight. The Elvisite's done all he can with that last shot. It's all down to the pretty boy, now."
* * *
It was all down to Fabio.
He spun, and stepped back from the last of the massive bugbears. A glance to the left told him Smith was still down, a blood-stained goblin leaning over him. A glance to the right showed that Floyd was fumbling to reload Sadie. Too far, too slow.
His hands crossed over his front, snatching the pistols from his belt. The chrome barrels gleamed as they swung upwards, flames belting from the muzzles as he fired.
Two bodies slumped to the ground.
It had all been down to Fabio, and he had delivered.
And he'd got his best close-up yet, while doing it.
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