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In the Valus - The Heroes of Marchford (Chapter 14 Continues - 12/24/08)
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<blockquote data-quote="Funeris" data-source="post: 4458832" data-attributes="member: 22792"><p><strong>Chapter 14: Gurnag's Head</strong></p><p></p><p>An inconstant drizzle spattered against the looming crags of rock groping around the rocky staircase. Far below, two maybe three hundred feet below, the small dinghy smacked against the jagged outcropping that passed as a dock. Above, Gurnag’s Head loomed, a squat creature of stone broken by time and weather and disuse.</p><p></p><p>Drake ducked low, the monster’s fey song unable to lure him into its razor talons. His first sickle nipped at the yellowed skin of her belly, parting the flesh with its kiss. His right arm leapt down, that sickle carving under and around the ankle before he pulled his arm taut.</p><p></p><p>The harpy tottered backward, pounding the ground. Drake drove the first blade into her thigh in spite.</p><p></p><p>Another of the monsters twirled past him. </p><p></p><p>The Rornman was there, a wall. He was angry silver cutting deep and biting hard. That harpy cried out.</p><p></p><p>Orbs of whirring light leapt over Drake’s head. He watched their impact against another of the ghastly nude bodies diving toward the crumbling staircase. The mage, Drake knew. He cast a look back and paid a price of blood.</p><p></p><p>The Rhelmsman mage winked. </p><p></p><p>Behind Magnus, the priest called down a blessing from the harvest goddess. He was slowly climbing the stairway, heavy armor encumbering every step.</p><p>Drake turned back to his bloody work. His first blade cleaved through the harpy’s arm at its wrist; the second drove through the bottom of her jaw and into her skull. As her eyes fluttered lifelessly away, another of her sisters slid by the Gordian. His sickle snapped out, clipping her heel and forcing her to kiss the stairs below.</p><p></p><p>Motega was quick to straddle the form, driving a dagger into its beating chest. Fetid blood spurted onto the Rornman.</p><p></p><p>Magnus watched Drake while reaching for more magical artillery. The fire danced across his knuckles, coalescing into a single bead of energy. The bead blossomed, just beyond the Gordian, blasting two of the harpies in the sky. Their broken and charred forms plummeted.</p><p></p><p>Silence descended upon the group as quickly as the harpy’s song had filled it. </p><p>“Almost to the top,” Drake spit as he kicked a body over the ledge. </p><p></p><p>The priest panted, leaning against a wall of rock. </p><p></p><p>“You’re not too bad with those sickles,” Magnus commended.</p><p></p><p>Drake grunted. “You’re witchery seemed to work as well.” With a measuring glance, Drake turned back to the stair. His next step elicited an exhausted sigh from the cleric.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Funeris, post: 4458832, member: 22792"] [b]Chapter 14: Gurnag's Head[/b] An inconstant drizzle spattered against the looming crags of rock groping around the rocky staircase. Far below, two maybe three hundred feet below, the small dinghy smacked against the jagged outcropping that passed as a dock. Above, Gurnag’s Head loomed, a squat creature of stone broken by time and weather and disuse. Drake ducked low, the monster’s fey song unable to lure him into its razor talons. His first sickle nipped at the yellowed skin of her belly, parting the flesh with its kiss. His right arm leapt down, that sickle carving under and around the ankle before he pulled his arm taut. The harpy tottered backward, pounding the ground. Drake drove the first blade into her thigh in spite. Another of the monsters twirled past him. The Rornman was there, a wall. He was angry silver cutting deep and biting hard. That harpy cried out. Orbs of whirring light leapt over Drake’s head. He watched their impact against another of the ghastly nude bodies diving toward the crumbling staircase. The mage, Drake knew. He cast a look back and paid a price of blood. The Rhelmsman mage winked. Behind Magnus, the priest called down a blessing from the harvest goddess. He was slowly climbing the stairway, heavy armor encumbering every step. Drake turned back to his bloody work. His first blade cleaved through the harpy’s arm at its wrist; the second drove through the bottom of her jaw and into her skull. As her eyes fluttered lifelessly away, another of her sisters slid by the Gordian. His sickle snapped out, clipping her heel and forcing her to kiss the stairs below. Motega was quick to straddle the form, driving a dagger into its beating chest. Fetid blood spurted onto the Rornman. Magnus watched Drake while reaching for more magical artillery. The fire danced across his knuckles, coalescing into a single bead of energy. The bead blossomed, just beyond the Gordian, blasting two of the harpies in the sky. Their broken and charred forms plummeted. Silence descended upon the group as quickly as the harpy’s song had filled it. “Almost to the top,” Drake spit as he kicked a body over the ledge. The priest panted, leaning against a wall of rock. “You’re not too bad with those sickles,” Magnus commended. Drake grunted. “You’re witchery seemed to work as well.” With a measuring glance, Drake turned back to the stair. His next step elicited an exhausted sigh from the cleric. [/QUOTE]
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