Black Eyes of the Demon Scorpion, Pt. 8
Antonius wasted no time retreating. If he was hit by anything, sword or spell, he was surely done for. He had spent himself beyond the breaking point, and he suspected the other wizards were in similar trouble. Putting his hand briefly to the three Wizards’ shoulders, he nodded, stated, “For Emor” and retreated to bind his wounds. He knew these men, and they would fight on until spent, too. With that, he sprinted to the exit door, just in time to hear a roar.
The Fire Witch was furious. These Emorian dogs have interrupted the ritual, and possibly cost thousands of troops their lives! Time for this to end! But wait...
THERE – in the midst – the treacherous Warmaster who deserted weeks earlier! HE had led them here. His was the first score settled, as a corkscrew of serpentine energy SLAMMED into the Turncoat Sythian, and bored a hole two feet wide into his chest. He fell wordlessly.
“Damnation!” said Vercinius to no one in particular. “He COULD be trusted!”
Now, the Witch swore, they would taste the full fury of the Demon Scorpion’s venom, and pay for shedding the blood of her sister. She gestured, and a Fireball bloomed in the Emorian lines. Soldiers withered and died; Wizards were burned alive screaming; and the remaining forces were singed.
However, this only enraged Boldric further. Singing his song of battle uninterrupted, he straightforwardly thrust the Glaive through the Scorpion; it was a clumsy cut, but with so much power it smashed through the scorpion’s claw like paper; so deep was the wound it even drove through and injured the rider, who tumbled to the ground.
The battle had turned, but was uncertain. Gone were most of the Sythian footmen; the archers still fought from the balconies, a scorpion and rider still stood uninjured, and the fire Witch fought on, frying solders with her spells as she could aim. Of the Emorians, all five of the inspectors stood, some just barely; Maxian and Boldric stood firm, Brandis flitted to and fro like a darting wraith, dealing choice blows where he could; Vercinius joined the line, as his armor and shield allowed him to withstand such an assault; Varus barked orders to his remaining half dozen or so men, trying to organize them for a javelin assault on the archers.
The remaining Scorpion and Rider saw their chance. Charging Maxian, it surprised him with a pincer, and grabbed on with bone-crushing force by his waist. Maxian cried out, but stayed conscious. He repeatedly slammed the scorpion’s claw with his sword and shield, but to little avail. Boldric rammed home his glaive, but the weapon glanced off its hide.
The Legionnaires under Varus reformed. Charging to the balconies, they made short work of the Sythian archers and officers with Javelin discharges. To their surprise, Antonius, sneaking back into the room, assisted with a few choice crossbow shots. Spent with spells, he still lended a hand where he could.
Boldric and Maxian repeatedly rained blows on the Scorpion, as its handler laughed. Both sides knew that if these two fell, the invaders were lost. However, the commander was worried about the wrong threat. Vercinius, hammering at the large Scorpion mount himself, raised his mace and offered a brief prayer of Foresight to Osirian. And then, there, he saw it – the invisible crack in its body, near the fangs or pedipalps of the face. He raised his lethal mace, struck home, and as if by magic, the beast crumpled like a house of cards, dumping Maxian, Boldric, and its rider to the floor unceremoniously.
Boldric, thundering a battle cry, grinned at the Sythian handler. One last prayer to his god, as well as about two feet of Emorian Glaive, went through his mind.
The witch, standing nearby, stood slackjawed. Boldric didn’t even slow as he whipped his glaive about and sent it slashing, almost ten feet away, straight to her gut. She shook, faltered, but did not fall. Her spells ceased, however, and she stood defensively. It did not help her, however, as Maxian bounded forward to finally end her life with his blade.
Myrwyn led the way, as the Dark spell-wave for a second time retreated to the curtain. "Quickly! We must end this!”
I knew we were of similar age, but I'm older than you? Dang, time to start cultivating that "patronizing elder" persona. 
! I actually used an on-the-fly house rule to see if a grappled PC's arms got pinned (d6 per arm, 1-3 pinned/4-6 free) and then allowed them to continue to make attacks with non-light weapons...albeit at a -4 penalty to hit. Made things a bit more cinematic and didn't totally screw the PCs - who basically would have been completely helpless once grappled, since there was mathematically no chance for several to win an opposed grapple check.
