Lazybones
Adventurer
So far, you guys are thinking much along the lines I was when I wrote this battle. Glad to see that things are making sense, for the most part.
And we've hit over eight thousand views for this thread already... much thanks to all my readers!
Today's post is testament to the notion that things always get worse before they get better (assuming that they ever do, that is...).
* * * * *
Chapter 57
BLOOD AND VIOLENCE
Talen paled as the demon spread its wings and leapt at him. He’d fought men and beasts, but this was beyond anything he had ever encountered. Still, he was a soldier and a man, and he lifted his sword, desperate to sell his life for a dear price.
A long, sinuous form erupted out of the corridor, darting between the open doors into the fray. Its head slammed into the demon, driving it back, piercing it with its mandibles. It was another huge centipede, and it distracted the demon for the few precious seconds that Talen need to get clear.
He looked up and saw an evil cleric standing in the doorway, and nearly rushed him before realizing it was Varo. Damn it, what’s wrong with me? he thought. His thoughts had been in a crazy jumble since they’d come to this place, and his skin felt as though a slick of oil was clinging to it, a foulness that no soap could scrub free.
There was no time for contemplation; several clerics had seen him break away, and were charging toward him even as he turned back toward the battle. He met the first in a high parry which he turned into a descending cut that tore a deep gash in the man’s shoulder; the cleric screamed and fell back.
The second, however, was far more adept, and as his morningstar slammed into his armored torso he felt a cold surge of dread seep into his body.
“Yes, soldier of Light,” the cleric said, taunting him. “You feel your doom.”
Dar met his surge of enemies with a wild cry, swinging his club with abandon. The acolyte he struck first crumpled with a rib stuck through a lung, but the second caught his follow-through easily on his shield, suggesting a more experienced combatant. Dar in turn took a hit to his side that partially penetrated his armor, but lacking Talen’s purity of purpose and depth of commitment, he did not suffer the same cold surge of power from the priest’s unholy morningstar. But the mundane efficacy of the nasty weapon was bad enough, and as two more of the senior priests turned from the dissolving corpse of the second summoned ape to join in the battle against him, he knew that this was going to get really bloody, real fast.
“Stand fast,” a soft voice said behind him. He felt a soft touch brush his neck, followed by a surge of positive energy that banished all doubts, along with the pain of his wounds and the lingering exhaustion of battle.
“Much better,” he said, grinning as he faced the evil cleric. An acolyte tried to rush his flank, but he almost casually poked the head of his club into the young man’s face, dropping him like a sack of grain. “Now let’s get down to business.”
“Take the cleric!” the enemy priest said, gesturing for his companions to spread out and come at their foes from the flanks. “The True God will claim your soul, warrior, but your flesh... that belongs to us.”
“Well, I hope I at least you buy me dinner first,” Dar said, seeing through a feint before meeting the cleric’s true attack with a powerful swing of his club. The priest staggered back, clutching his side.
“Hurts, don’t it?” Dar said. But he had to concentrate on the priest’s pals, who were trying to get around him to Allera. He felt another cold chill, and knew that another priest was trying to do something nasty to him. “No... you... don’t...” he said, his teeth chattering, but he managed to somehow marshal the will to resist the spiritual assault.
And just in time, as the flanking clerics charged in to attack.
Varo had remained near the doors, observing the battle for the best way to shape events. His gaze was drawn to the evil cleric atop the platform, who had not moved since the battle begun. He was almost certainly the source of the blight that had exploded in the room in the first seconds of the battle. His current idleness didn’t mean that he wasn’t contributing to the battle; Varo knew that he was likely the most dangerous foe in the room. But at the moment, out of reach.
He didn’t bother trying to hold any of the clerics; with their strong wills the spell was likely futile. A cleric saw him and ran forward, weapon raised, but he hesitated when he saw who it was.
“Help me, brother,” Varo said, staggering forward.
The cleric—barely past his teens, Varo saw—ran forward to support him. As he grabbed onto Varo’s apparently mangled body, their eyes met. Too late, he saw his mistake. Too late to do anything but scream as Varo unleashed an inflict wounds spell into him.
The acolyte stiffened, and collapsed.
Stepping over the body, Varo regarded the demon, which was going to be a real problem. Thus far the centipede had withstood its attacks, but it was clearly getting the worst of the exchange between them.
Dar delivered a powerful two-handed blow that drove one of the clerics several steps back, but he couldn’t shift in time to stop the one behind him from touching him in the back, pouring an inflict serious wounds into him. He yelled in pain, swinging the club around to punish his attacker, but the cleric caught the blow on his shield.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” the first priest, now recovered and coming in again, taunted him.
Dar glanced back at Allera, but saw that the healer was busy. The last priest, the one that had been so terribly mutilated, had slipped all the way around the melee to the far wall, and had come up on Allera from behind. She tried to keep him at bay with her spear, but apparently the man had healed himself or been healed, for he no longer moved as though he was on death’s door. He had no weapon, but Dar knew only too well that the priests of Orcus needed none.
But there was nothing he could do to help her, as all three of his foes came at him again. In fact, if he couldn’t manage to stay alive for the next few seconds, her predicament was going to get a lot worse off very fast.
Talen faced his foe with a new respect for the cleric’s deadly, evil weapon. The man was good with it, and Talen was forced to fight defensively, taking pounding impacts on his shield, barely able to adjust for each new assault, let alone get in an effective counter. The cleric’s strength was amazing, the blows landing with almost as much force as those he’d taken from the ogres before. Within a few seconds his left arm was numb from the impacts to the mithral shield.
“Your death is inevitable, servant of Good,” the evil cleric hissed, lifting his weapon to strike again.
“For the honor of Camar!” Talen shouted back, launching a sudden counterattack. The cleric brought down his weapon, but Talen was already sliding past, his blade smashing into the cleric’s armored side. The chainmail under his robes held against the blow, but as Talen moved past him, he reversed the sword and thrust backward. The keen elvish steel drove deep into the cleric’s side, and he staggered back, favoring the critical wound.
Dar’s opponents, seeing that their unholy weapons were of limited effect against him, moved in to deliver inflict wounds spells by touch. Dar made them pay, lashing out with his club in powerful blows that crushed bones and mangled organs. But he took another devasating inflict serious wounds, and he was starting to feel that he was in bad trouble.
They could see it, too, and even though all three looked only a few shades short of death themselves, they seemed to grow only more confident the more wounded they became.
Dar felt a presence behind him, and tensed. It it was Allera, then well and good, but if it was the evil priest... The clerics did not give him a chance to shift his attention away for even an instant, coming at him in a semi-coordinated rush.
Then the healing was surging into him. He lashed out with his club, taking down the first cleric with a powerful smash the sundered his breastbone. Without hesitation he swept the club around with his backswing, impacting the second cleric on the side of the head an inch above his ear. A loud crack echoed through the chamber, and he too went down in a heap.
The last cleric let out a cry of rage, and extended his hands like claws toward Dar’s face. Dar calmly kicked him in the gut, knocking the air from his body in an explosive gasp, driving him to the ground. The club came down in a heartbeat, and snapped the evil priest’s neck.
A scream from behind him drew him around. He saw Allera crumple, blood pouring from her mouth, nostrils, and ears. She had paid a steep price for helping Dar. The naked cleric that had blasted her with an inflict serious wounds stood over her, blood covering his fingers. He looked at Dar and laughed maniacally, tangling his fingers in the fallen healer’s hair, and yanking her head up. She did not stir at the rough treatment.
“Get your filthy hands off her,” the fighter growled. He didn’t even bother to swing his club, merely driving it forward into the man like a battering ram. The cleric’s mad laughter continued even as the club crushed his arm and smashed into his torso, sundering bones like a child snapping twigs. The cleric fell to the ground, still faintly wheezing with terrible mirth.
“Allera,” Dar said. “Allera!” He started to kneel beside her, but a loud roar drew his attention back up before he could see if she was still breathing. He looked up to see the demon holding Varo in its claws. Wounds covered the foul creature’s body; apparently Varo had gotten in a few licks. But the cleric’s arms had been shredded by the demon’s claws, and one side of his face was almost torn fully away by the vrock’s hooked beak. His left eye was a ruined, bloody mess in its socket, but his mouth continued to spit bloody syllables, and he managed to lift one savaged arm enough to touch the demon’s elbow, unleashing another inflict spell into it. A few lingering mirror images hovered around it, giving the entire scene a blurred effect.
“Damn it, nothing’s ever easy,” Dar said, lifting his club and running toward the demon with a fierce yell.
The demon turned toward him. Almost casually tossing the crippled cleric away, it let out a piercing shriek that almost overloaded his senses. Somehow, through that terrible noise, Dar kept on running. For a moment his vision blurred, but the demon was impossible to miss, and he unleashed a powerful two-handed swing with everything he had left behind it.
The head of the club impacted the demon, but it passed right through its body and kept going. The mirror image vanished, revealing the true form of the demon a half-step away.
The demon roared and smashed a clawed fist into the fighter’s face. Dar staggered and fell to one knee, the club falling from his hand and rolling to a stop a few paces away.
And we've hit over eight thousand views for this thread already... much thanks to all my readers!
Today's post is testament to the notion that things always get worse before they get better (assuming that they ever do, that is...).
* * * * *
Chapter 57
BLOOD AND VIOLENCE
Talen paled as the demon spread its wings and leapt at him. He’d fought men and beasts, but this was beyond anything he had ever encountered. Still, he was a soldier and a man, and he lifted his sword, desperate to sell his life for a dear price.
A long, sinuous form erupted out of the corridor, darting between the open doors into the fray. Its head slammed into the demon, driving it back, piercing it with its mandibles. It was another huge centipede, and it distracted the demon for the few precious seconds that Talen need to get clear.
He looked up and saw an evil cleric standing in the doorway, and nearly rushed him before realizing it was Varo. Damn it, what’s wrong with me? he thought. His thoughts had been in a crazy jumble since they’d come to this place, and his skin felt as though a slick of oil was clinging to it, a foulness that no soap could scrub free.
There was no time for contemplation; several clerics had seen him break away, and were charging toward him even as he turned back toward the battle. He met the first in a high parry which he turned into a descending cut that tore a deep gash in the man’s shoulder; the cleric screamed and fell back.
The second, however, was far more adept, and as his morningstar slammed into his armored torso he felt a cold surge of dread seep into his body.
“Yes, soldier of Light,” the cleric said, taunting him. “You feel your doom.”
Dar met his surge of enemies with a wild cry, swinging his club with abandon. The acolyte he struck first crumpled with a rib stuck through a lung, but the second caught his follow-through easily on his shield, suggesting a more experienced combatant. Dar in turn took a hit to his side that partially penetrated his armor, but lacking Talen’s purity of purpose and depth of commitment, he did not suffer the same cold surge of power from the priest’s unholy morningstar. But the mundane efficacy of the nasty weapon was bad enough, and as two more of the senior priests turned from the dissolving corpse of the second summoned ape to join in the battle against him, he knew that this was going to get really bloody, real fast.
“Stand fast,” a soft voice said behind him. He felt a soft touch brush his neck, followed by a surge of positive energy that banished all doubts, along with the pain of his wounds and the lingering exhaustion of battle.
“Much better,” he said, grinning as he faced the evil cleric. An acolyte tried to rush his flank, but he almost casually poked the head of his club into the young man’s face, dropping him like a sack of grain. “Now let’s get down to business.”
“Take the cleric!” the enemy priest said, gesturing for his companions to spread out and come at their foes from the flanks. “The True God will claim your soul, warrior, but your flesh... that belongs to us.”
“Well, I hope I at least you buy me dinner first,” Dar said, seeing through a feint before meeting the cleric’s true attack with a powerful swing of his club. The priest staggered back, clutching his side.
“Hurts, don’t it?” Dar said. But he had to concentrate on the priest’s pals, who were trying to get around him to Allera. He felt another cold chill, and knew that another priest was trying to do something nasty to him. “No... you... don’t...” he said, his teeth chattering, but he managed to somehow marshal the will to resist the spiritual assault.
And just in time, as the flanking clerics charged in to attack.
Varo had remained near the doors, observing the battle for the best way to shape events. His gaze was drawn to the evil cleric atop the platform, who had not moved since the battle begun. He was almost certainly the source of the blight that had exploded in the room in the first seconds of the battle. His current idleness didn’t mean that he wasn’t contributing to the battle; Varo knew that he was likely the most dangerous foe in the room. But at the moment, out of reach.
He didn’t bother trying to hold any of the clerics; with their strong wills the spell was likely futile. A cleric saw him and ran forward, weapon raised, but he hesitated when he saw who it was.
“Help me, brother,” Varo said, staggering forward.
The cleric—barely past his teens, Varo saw—ran forward to support him. As he grabbed onto Varo’s apparently mangled body, their eyes met. Too late, he saw his mistake. Too late to do anything but scream as Varo unleashed an inflict wounds spell into him.
The acolyte stiffened, and collapsed.
Stepping over the body, Varo regarded the demon, which was going to be a real problem. Thus far the centipede had withstood its attacks, but it was clearly getting the worst of the exchange between them.
Dar delivered a powerful two-handed blow that drove one of the clerics several steps back, but he couldn’t shift in time to stop the one behind him from touching him in the back, pouring an inflict serious wounds into him. He yelled in pain, swinging the club around to punish his attacker, but the cleric caught the blow on his shield.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” the first priest, now recovered and coming in again, taunted him.
Dar glanced back at Allera, but saw that the healer was busy. The last priest, the one that had been so terribly mutilated, had slipped all the way around the melee to the far wall, and had come up on Allera from behind. She tried to keep him at bay with her spear, but apparently the man had healed himself or been healed, for he no longer moved as though he was on death’s door. He had no weapon, but Dar knew only too well that the priests of Orcus needed none.
But there was nothing he could do to help her, as all three of his foes came at him again. In fact, if he couldn’t manage to stay alive for the next few seconds, her predicament was going to get a lot worse off very fast.
Talen faced his foe with a new respect for the cleric’s deadly, evil weapon. The man was good with it, and Talen was forced to fight defensively, taking pounding impacts on his shield, barely able to adjust for each new assault, let alone get in an effective counter. The cleric’s strength was amazing, the blows landing with almost as much force as those he’d taken from the ogres before. Within a few seconds his left arm was numb from the impacts to the mithral shield.
“Your death is inevitable, servant of Good,” the evil cleric hissed, lifting his weapon to strike again.
“For the honor of Camar!” Talen shouted back, launching a sudden counterattack. The cleric brought down his weapon, but Talen was already sliding past, his blade smashing into the cleric’s armored side. The chainmail under his robes held against the blow, but as Talen moved past him, he reversed the sword and thrust backward. The keen elvish steel drove deep into the cleric’s side, and he staggered back, favoring the critical wound.
Dar’s opponents, seeing that their unholy weapons were of limited effect against him, moved in to deliver inflict wounds spells by touch. Dar made them pay, lashing out with his club in powerful blows that crushed bones and mangled organs. But he took another devasating inflict serious wounds, and he was starting to feel that he was in bad trouble.
They could see it, too, and even though all three looked only a few shades short of death themselves, they seemed to grow only more confident the more wounded they became.
Dar felt a presence behind him, and tensed. It it was Allera, then well and good, but if it was the evil priest... The clerics did not give him a chance to shift his attention away for even an instant, coming at him in a semi-coordinated rush.
Then the healing was surging into him. He lashed out with his club, taking down the first cleric with a powerful smash the sundered his breastbone. Without hesitation he swept the club around with his backswing, impacting the second cleric on the side of the head an inch above his ear. A loud crack echoed through the chamber, and he too went down in a heap.
The last cleric let out a cry of rage, and extended his hands like claws toward Dar’s face. Dar calmly kicked him in the gut, knocking the air from his body in an explosive gasp, driving him to the ground. The club came down in a heartbeat, and snapped the evil priest’s neck.
A scream from behind him drew him around. He saw Allera crumple, blood pouring from her mouth, nostrils, and ears. She had paid a steep price for helping Dar. The naked cleric that had blasted her with an inflict serious wounds stood over her, blood covering his fingers. He looked at Dar and laughed maniacally, tangling his fingers in the fallen healer’s hair, and yanking her head up. She did not stir at the rough treatment.
“Get your filthy hands off her,” the fighter growled. He didn’t even bother to swing his club, merely driving it forward into the man like a battering ram. The cleric’s mad laughter continued even as the club crushed his arm and smashed into his torso, sundering bones like a child snapping twigs. The cleric fell to the ground, still faintly wheezing with terrible mirth.
“Allera,” Dar said. “Allera!” He started to kneel beside her, but a loud roar drew his attention back up before he could see if she was still breathing. He looked up to see the demon holding Varo in its claws. Wounds covered the foul creature’s body; apparently Varo had gotten in a few licks. But the cleric’s arms had been shredded by the demon’s claws, and one side of his face was almost torn fully away by the vrock’s hooked beak. His left eye was a ruined, bloody mess in its socket, but his mouth continued to spit bloody syllables, and he managed to lift one savaged arm enough to touch the demon’s elbow, unleashing another inflict spell into it. A few lingering mirror images hovered around it, giving the entire scene a blurred effect.
“Damn it, nothing’s ever easy,” Dar said, lifting his club and running toward the demon with a fierce yell.
The demon turned toward him. Almost casually tossing the crippled cleric away, it let out a piercing shriek that almost overloaded his senses. Somehow, through that terrible noise, Dar kept on running. For a moment his vision blurred, but the demon was impossible to miss, and he unleashed a powerful two-handed swing with everything he had left behind it.
The head of the club impacted the demon, but it passed right through its body and kept going. The mirror image vanished, revealing the true form of the demon a half-step away.
The demon roared and smashed a clawed fist into the fighter’s face. Dar staggered and fell to one knee, the club falling from his hand and rolling to a stop a few paces away.
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
