Seeing as how today's opening dialogue was going to be a eulogy for Charlie Sheen...
Enk, Charlie Sheen isn't dead.
His career sure seems to be. Have you actually seen his new show? Anyway, since HULK has subtly threatened us with a SMASHing if we included Charlie Sheen again, D'Shai will instead read a passage from our favorite book, Ken Rolston's Extreme Paranoia: Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Shot, a piece based on the very serious work of Greg Costikyan and others.
...
D'Shai?
Shh! I'm reading a passage from our favorite book, Ken Rolston's Extreme Paranoia: Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Shot, a piece based on the very serious work of...
You were reading to yourself, weren't you?
Of course! That's what the librarian always said to do.
Great. Just do the Tip of the Day.
When working from home either wear underwear or make sure your webcam isn't on.
Remind me not to come over to your house on the weekdays.
Don't come over to my house on the weekdays.
Thanks.
No really, thanks.
I mean that.
And here we go:
*****
The Master’s searing red eyes burned indelibly into Pack’s memory, sending a shudder of horror down’s the halfling’s spine. The bard would have turned and fled had his legs obeyed his commands, but instead Pack stared on in horror as his friends moved in concert to engage the ram’s head demon.
Ashrem rolled past the surprised demon and hopped onto the table behind the creature as if to cut off any retreat while Aurora sent a volley of her arcane missiles at the beast. One of the missiles dwindled as it flew, dissipating into a fine mist before reaching the monster, but the other struck home with a sickening hiss. Ander followed its impact with a double handed swing of his staff that landed with a resounding thud on the Master’s chest: the blow would have knocked even HULK backwards from its power, but the demon seemed to barely notice. Then one of Zuras’ lightning bolts arced from Theo’s shield and smacked into the exact spot of Ander’s strike, staggering the beast.
Ashrem used the opening to plunge Mistslayer’s sword hilt deep into the Master’s back. Pack swore that the blade had pierced more than just the flesh of the horned creature as it roared in pain for the first time.
The bard felt his courage grow with each blow that the Heroes of Icemist struck, and when another volley of Aurora’s missiles burned into the creature Pack felt fear’s tendrils loosen. He found himself drawing a weapon of his own as he watched Ander attacking the demon with both ends of his staff in a blurry flurry of strikes. The woodsman must have thought his weapon useless against the fiend: it seemed to the halfling that his assault was designed more to corral the creature than damage it. Pack’s hunch proved correct as he heard Meepo’s familiar warcry and the kobold rushed spear first at the entangled woodsman-demon melee. “Meepo Missile!”
Pack’ spirits soared as he watched the kobold charge headlong at the twisted pair of warriors. They leapt even higher when Ander, at the last moment, stepped sideways so that Meepo’s spear aligned perfectly with the demon’s chest. The tip of the spear hit square with the full weight of the charging kobold behind it, but instead of piecing the demon’s heart the spear bent as if Meepo was trying to ram it through a boulder.
“You dare attack me in my sanctum?” the Master hissed as he shoved the kobold aside. “Baa-ramyu,” he commanded as he moved a pace back to come even with Ashrem’s table.
Pack’s soaring spirits dropped like stones as the giant door behind them began to open. For a moment, the halfling panicked as he realized that if the guards that waited outside managed to join the fight he and his friends had no hope.
“Theo! Stop that door from opening,” Ander yelled proving that Pack wasn’t the only one concerned about reinforcements.
“Already on it lad, but I think all I can do is keep closing it as he tries to open it! Baa-ramyu!” The sounds of grinding stone slowed to a stop and then started anew as the door began to close allowing no more than a crack to be seen from the other side.
“Baa-ramyu!” the demon again roared, this time emphasizing the command with a headbutt that sent Ander sliding across the floor clutching his ribs. The door once again shifted direction, and Pack was horrified to see that this time it moved far more quickly on its stone hinges. He could already see the halberd heads pushing through the slim opening, ready to advance into the room and sure to block the door from closing no matter what commands Theo bellowed. If someone didn’t do something to clear them… Let’s see if I can’t give you something else to occupy your time!
With a dip and turn, Pack let his left hand fall atop a well tooled pouch made of black leather that matched his best stage clothes. His fingers burrowed under the pouch’s flap to grasp a warm fuzzy object and with a quick flick of his wrist he tossed it through the small opening and at the feet of the waiting guards. When their weapon heads withdrew from the gap at the door with a shout, the bard heard Theo repeat the command word to reverse the door. Pack’s last glimpse before the door slammed was that of a brown glob of growling fur that swelled and sprouted limbs, claws, and a head complete with razor sharp teeth.
“What in the Storm’s eye was that?” Theo yelped, backing away from the door as muted screams wailed from the other side.
“I…I don’t know!” answered a perplexed Pack. “It’s from my bunny bag that I use at my Festival magic show! I thought that the guards might chase a rabbit and give us some time!”
“That was no rabbit,” Theo grinned. “Looked more like a bad tempered Badger, only bigger! No sense shooing away a surprise rain when the crops are dry though. Now look lively, lad,” the priest continued, reading his flail, “and let’s finish this!”
Pack turned back to the fight to see that even though Aurora’s latest volley of missiles evaporated before reaching the demon, Ander and Ashrem had the beast cornered and bleeding badly. I can end this now!
“Fulmenictus!” Pack whispered, pointing Belak’s crimson glove at the battered demon. The bard felt the familiar rush of magic as a line of fire leapt from his fingertips bathing the beast in a sheet of scorching flame. When the elemental torrent died away though, the demon still stood, seemingly unscathed by the magical fire. What passed for a wicked smile grew on his billy goat bearded face.
“In my own home and with my own creations,” he said. For a moment Pack thought he heard pity in the demon’s voice. “You really are fools!” Pack stood dumbfounded by the demon’s word until the Master’s spoke a single, ear shattering word.
“Fulmencekiatus!”
Pack felt the gauntlet on his hand spasm, just as it would have had he released its magic, but more intensely than it ever had before. In confusion, he moved toward the demon a step, then two. The glove shook his hand, his fingers wobbling as surely as the branches of the Switching Tree when Worm pushed it over three years ago, and suddenly a flaring ball of fire erupted from the glove, engulfing the young bard and all those that stood around him. For a long moment the flames danced around Pack, the demon, and his companions. Ashrem managed to dive behind the table he had so recently stood upon and shove it ever so slightly toward the fire, while his other friends tried best to shield themselves from the inferno. Only Pack and the Master stood firm, both seemingly unharmed by the tongues of flame.
As suddenly as the fire flared, it extinguished. Pack stared in horror as wisps of smoke rose from Theo’s shield and armor where the priest had crouched for protection and a barely breathing Meepo lay draped over Aurora, protecting all but the ends of her robes from the blast. Even the central table where the fight had begun lay shattered and smoldering in ash.
The demon roared in fury as he stood over the smoking remains of the table and lifted what was once a staff. It crumbled as he gripped it, and that sent the demon into further fits. “Years of work, gone!” he bellowed. “GONE!”
Pack scampered over toward Theo as the demon ranted, pausing only to see that Meepo and Aurora were both moving. The priest looked horrible: parts of his hair were singed and the skin underneath looked red and blistered. Without more than a moment’s hesitation Pack concentrated on the burned areas and began humming, calling the magic from the song just as he had before. His voice strained, trying to pull as much magic from the song as he could, focusing the energy toward the groaning priest. This time though the wounds were too great and the halfling’s song did little but smooth the blistered skin.
Undaunted, Pack began humming again, ignoring the burning in his throat as he molded the song once again. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his tongue sat like a lump of dried jerky in his mouth, but the bard watched as the skin resumed its normal color and the priest’s labored breathing calmed.
“Thank you, Pack,” Theo whispered, obviously still in pain. “Zuras watch over me, but I think I can take it from here.”
Pack was about to respond to his friend, or hug him, but his celebration was cut short by a warning cry from Ander. Pack looked back over his shoulder to see the ranger sprawled on the floor, clutching his ribs. “Ashrem, stop him!”
The bard swung his head in the direction of Ander’s outstretched arm to see the demon duck into the curtained alcove near the back of the room. The beast bared his teeth in what Pack thought might have been a grin as the feloine scout rushed at him, and then reached out to one of the of the posts sticking out from the alcove wall. It wasn’t until he yanked it violently downward that Pack had the sinking feeling that he had just pulled some kind of lever.
The sinking feeling continued, literally, as the floor that supported Theo, Aurora, Meepo, and Pack suddenly disappeared, leaving only a gaping maw beneath them; a maw packed with rows of serrated lances.
