Session Twelve, Part Four: Conflict
Di'Fier looked at his partner. "Doors," they said in unison, each dashing to one side of the hall to lock the side entrances. Dru growled at the lack of a proper bar as she twisted the lock into place, but the Sea Lord's palace had been built as a residence, not a defensive measure.
She had just turned to head to the front of the hall when the doors there burst open, men in the uniform of the Sea Lord's Guard charging into the hall. Men carrying the long and deadly forms of the clockwork weapons they'd taken from the ship. "Everyone down!" cried Di'Fier, but the Council remained in their seats, stunned.
Dru barely paused. One had reached up to pluck the last remaining golden sphere from the necklace she wore, hurling it sidearm across the hall to erupt in a ball of flame. A secondary explosion signalled the demise of at least one of the troopers - and when the flames cleared, three men were scorched and smouldering on the ground. Behind her, Di'Fier had cast some kind of spell, and was standing protectively in front of Roberts.
"You should not have done this!" Arias Soderheim, weapon in hand, entered the room. His lips were flecked with spittle, his eyes wild, and all traces of his carefully cultured elven accent were gone. He raised the pistol. "This city is now under martial law, and you will all be executed for treason. Treason!" His voice cracked, and his eyes - and weapon - fixed on Roth. "Especially you."
His shot was the signal for the Guardsmen to open fire, and powder-smoke filled the air. Roth was knocked to the ground by Soderheim's shot, and Captain Torian looked dumbfounded at the sudden appearance of a small, neat hole in his chest, and the copious quantities of blood that came with it. The firing finally shocked the members of the Council into action. "The table!" came Robert's cry, as he and Gordon turned the heavy mahogany onto its side into a makeshift barricade.
Dru dug in her pouch, pulling out a miniature skull that she'd taken from the ex-Sea Lord. Hope there's no trick to these, she thought, lobbing it towards a group of Guardsmen who were already beginning to prepare their weapons for a second shot.
There wasn't. As the skull hit the floor, it shattered violently, sending bone shrapnel scything through the ranks of the Guard, staining the white of their uniform shirts to match the crimson of their coats.
Di'Fier leapt from the council dais now that Roberts was under cover, calling on his magic to grant him supernatural speed. He charged at Soderheim, blade blurring, but somehow the half-elf managed to avoid the blow - and strike one of his own. The Watchman stumbled back as blood began to pour from the wound in his arm. Too much blood, he thought dazedly. I shouldn't be bleeding this much...
Dru dropped a Guard as she passed, twisting the blade before yanking it free, and snarling as she headed for Soderheim. She could hear the side doors to the hall start to splinter - looks like the Guard wanted all the exits covered.
Di'Fier regripped his sword, the blood making the hilt slick under his palms. He moved forward, spinning it through the air, but somehow, impossibly, Soderheim managed to deflect both of the attacks and deliver a vicious slice across the chest as the Watchman leapt back out of the fray.
A shot buzzed by Dru's ear as one of the Guard finished reloding, but she had no time for him. Her vision had narrowed to Soderheim alone, and she stepped forward to engage him in combat. The b-st-rd's good, she realized with a shock as their blades met. Elven-trained...of course. She struck, and again, but Soderheim's defense seemed impenetrable, and his own blade semed to float past her defenses as the half-elf cackled with insane glee.
A flash of pulsing light, and Soderheim stumbled from the force of the eldritch bolts that Di'Fier flung at him. A moment later the young mage had returned to the battle, his blade flashing momentarily white with frost as the mad Councilor ducked out of its way. Di'Fier's mystic shield deflected Soderheim's first blow, but Dru was not so protected, and his blade sank into her thigh.
Dru could feel her strength ebbing as life ran from the wounds in a never-ending stream. We've got to end this - now, she thought. Or neither of us is going to be able to stop him. Her foot skidded in the pool of blood beneath her, and dimly she wondered if all of that was hers.
Soderheim glanced at Di'Fier, and that was all the opportunity Dru needed. She lunged. Dimly she was aware of the sharp crack! of one of the weapons being fired, and on some level she was able to associate it with the pain that flooded through her shoulder, but she did not let it distract her. She drove her blade through Soderheim's side, deep into his flesh, stumbled, and recovered, pulling it free.
The half-elf turned to her, his face a twisted mask of rage. He's still alive? Die, damn you! Die! Dru forced her blade back into a guard position as Soderheim approached.
Then the Councilor snapped suddenly sideways, as if hit with an invisible battering ram, the bones of his arms and legs shattering under the blow and catapulting his body into the wall. He slid down it, blood dribbling from his mouth, took one last labored breath, and expired. Behind him, a bloodied Di'Fier regripped his sword and gave his partner a half-hearted smile. Together, they turned to face the Guardsmen that had finally shattered the Council Chamber's other doors.
). This is an example of what every DM should try for. And it's awesome.
