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X-PATH: Stick Your Citadel Where the Sun Don't Shine (Complete 5 Aug 2004)
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<blockquote data-quote="Capellan" data-source="post: 1615084" data-attributes="member: 6294"><p><strong>8: A Cool Reception</strong></p><p>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).</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>"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."</p><p></p><p>"I'll go down first." Smith determined, breaking out the Nike-branded climbing gear.</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>Which is roughly the point that the cloaked figures rushed him.</p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: YellowGreen">Nice move from the Elvisite.</span>" Patton cackled, "<span style="color: YellowGreen">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.</span>"</p><p></p><p>Jacobsen nodded sycophantically as one of the cloaked figures disappeared in a spray of ragged cloth and bone shards.</p><p></p><p>"Mr Smith seems to be quite effective with that shotgun, however." He observed, scratching notes in his journal. <em>Merchandising deal with Remington for Smith? Splice Floyd abseil footage with killing something on sell-through.</em></p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: YellowGreen">Good work, Jacobsen.</span>" He grunted approvingly, "<span style="color: YellowGreen">If the damn Commies can doctor their video, why not us?</span>"</p><p></p><p>The lead of Jacobsen's pencil snapped as the comment made him start.</p><p></p><p>"Yes, sir." He managed weakly at last, with a nervous smile, "Can't let those Reds get the better of us, sir."</p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>With a bellow, he charged out of the darkness.</p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>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 - <em>surely</em> - the monster had to go down soon. Gore matted the fur on its chest, from where he had wounded it earlier.</p><p></p><p>There was a squeal from behind the Mormon as Fabio finally drove his blade through the rat's brain.</p><p></p><p>"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.</p><p></p><p>"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.</p><p></p><p>"Not this time, heretic."</p><p></p><p>Smith's arm swung up.</p><p></p><p>The shotgun thundered.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Capellan, post: 1615084, member: 6294"] [b]8: A Cool Reception[/b] 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. * * * "[COLOR=YellowGreen]Nice move from the Elvisite.[/COLOR]" Patton cackled, "[COLOR=YellowGreen]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.[/COLOR]" 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. [i]Merchandising deal with Remington for Smith? Splice Floyd abseil footage with killing something on sell-through.[/i] 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. "[COLOR=YellowGreen]Good work, Jacobsen.[/COLOR]" He grunted approvingly, "[COLOR=YellowGreen]If the damn Commies can doctor their video, why not us?[/COLOR]" 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 - [i]surely[/i] - 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. [/QUOTE]
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