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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 3868180" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 286</p><p></p><p>HUNGRY FOR DEATH</p><p></p><p></p><p>Tiros fumbled for his sword; he’d dropped the weapon with the last hit, and his hand clawed only on bare earth. The ghoul towered over him, its breath thick with blood and death. It reached for him, and through the spasms of pain he felt a cold fear clench at his gut. </p><p></p><p>Then something blurred between them, and there was a flash of bare steel, and a terrible roar from the creature. </p><p></p><p>“Marshal, get back!” And then hands were grabbing at him, pulling him to his feet. Tiros staggered as he tried to get his legs working properly. He turned and saw his adjutant, the young officer Tiberius Probus, hacking at the ghoul with a long blade. Another two men, both young officers in his staff, flanked Probus, trying to force the ghoul back with a pair of short spears. </p><p></p><p>“Tiberius, no!” Tiros knew what was coming, but he could do nothing to stop it; it was as if time had slowed to a dragging crawl around him. He could only watch as the ghoul reached out, batting aside the Probus’s blade almost casually, seizing his arm with a meaty paw. It yanked hard, ripping the man off his feet. Its mouth opened cavernously, and with a single motion it engulfed his entire skull. Even as Tiros’s shout echoed in his head the creature bit down, and decapitated the young officer. </p><p></p><p>Noise and motion came crashing back upon him as time resumed its normal flow. Tiros felt a surge of bile rise in his throat, and he staggered back, half-dragged by a pair of young soldiers whose faces were wide with terror. </p><p></p><p>Finally he was able to tear free from the men holding him, although the effort nearly cost him his balance again. All around him was chaos; men were fleeing, and screams of pain and panic echoed through the camp. Behind him was carnage, a field of dismembered corpses extending to where the ghoul continued its swath of violence. </p><p></p><p>Glancing back, Tiros saw that the ghoul had taken down one of the spearmen; as the other screamed and tried to flee it leapt onto his back, bearing him down into the dirt. It reached down and tore the poor man’s arms off, stuffing them into its gaping maw one after the other. </p><p></p><p>Looking around, the marshal realized that he was, at least in the immediate area, alone. As the ghoul turned its hungry gaze upon him, he turned and started to run. His foot turned on a dropped spear, and he fell hard, the breath knocked from his lungs by the impact. </p><p></p><p><em>Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!</em> Tiros thought, the pain and fear making him feel almost giddy. He could no longer distinguish the pains of his own body from those that surged out from the ghoul. He did not look back, grimacing as he tried to pull himself back up. His limbs felt like they belonged to someone else, controlled by a tangled skein of cords by a distant puppeteer. He could not get up. </p><p></p><p>But as he struggled, he looked up and saw something unusual; a nebulous, misty form, descending from the sky toward his position. Tiros’s eyes widened in surprise as the vague cloud touched down just a few paces in front of him. It took on substance as it landed, the mists coalescing into a physical form, and with a start he recognized the newcomer. </p><p></p><p>“Varo!” </p><p></p><p>The cleric reached down and grabbed the marshal, lifting him to his feet. Tiros felt a flood of magical energy rush through his body. It did not dispel the pain that radiated from the ghoul, but it purged his injuries, and restored strength to his battered frame.</p><p></p><p>Varo pressed a weapon into his palm, a heavy mace of black metal. As he grasped it, the head of the mace burst into eager red flame. </p><p></p><p>“Keep it busy,” the cleric said. A slight twist in his lips was the only indicator that the cleric was even aware of the pain that was exuded from the undead monster. Without waiting to see whether Tiros would comply, he took a step back and began incanting, clutching the dark sigil of his god in one fist. </p><p></p><p>Tiros turned to see that the ghoul was already coming. It was continuing to feed, cramming dismembered chunks of man into its huge gullet as it tromped forward. The wounds it had suffered in the earlier battle appeared to have healed completely, although a few arrows still jutted out from its bloated body. Other than a few groaning, crippled men, the area was clear of soldiers; those who could flee had done so. Tiros could hear men shouting orders from elsewhere in the camp, but those sounds faded into the background as he focused his attention on the ghoul. His gaze started to shift, toward the wreckage that had been Tiberius and the other young officers, but he mercilessly forced his stare back to the creature. </p><p></p><p>As he strode forward, the ghoul paused, regarding him with a cold, hateful expression. Its entire head and torso were splattered with blood and gore from the victims it had consumed. Tiros’s hands clenched on the haft of the mace. </p><p></p><p>“All right, you freaking bastard, come deal with me!” he shouted, his roar echoing the feral hiss that issued from the ghoul. The marshal took a step forward, but that was all he got to do before the ghoul sprang forward, closing the distance between them in a surprising blur of motion.</p><p></p><p>Once again, the ghoul held nothing back, laying out a heavy paw in an all-out power attack aimed squarely at the marshal’s midsection. But Tiros had expected the move, if not the speed with which it came, and he hurled himself aside at the last instant. Its claw swiped through the air where he’d been standing, close enough so that the ends of its nails tore through his already-tattered surcoat. Tiros countered quickly, smashing Varo’s mace into the creature’s meaty side. The blow scored, the flames burning around the weapon’s head searing its unholy flesh. But otherwise it was like clubbing a whale with a switch; the ghoul was preternaturally tough, and its sagging flesh absorbed most of the impact of the blow. </p><p></p><p>Tiros lifted the mace to strike again, aiming this time for the creature’s head. But the ghoul was faster. Once again its mouth gaped impossibly wide, and it lunged forward, engulfing the marshal’s shoulder in its jaws. Bones cracked as it bit down, hard, and Tiros screamed in pain. The ghoul tightened its claws into meaty fists and slammed its arms together, striking the embattled commander hard on the sides of his torso. Despite his armor, ribs cracked under the force of those titanic blows. Tiros staggered and nearly fell, but it was clear that whatever stubborn determination kept him standing would not long withstand the violence of the ghoul’s assault. He tried to break free, wrenching his arm up and thrusting the burning mace against the side of the ghoul’s head, but the attempt was feeble, and the creature ignored his efforts. The undead monstrosity wrapped its arms around its prize, dragging Tiros into a rough embrace. His armor held, keeping it from tearing his entire shoulder from his body, but as it gained a secure hold it started to shift its attention toward his neck, where only a thin covering of chain links protected his flesh. </p><p></p><p>Tiros struggled feebly and uselessly against the ghoul, his grasp on consciousness wavering. But before the ghoul could finish him, he became aware of a loud rumbling noise that seemed to rattle deep within his bones. The ground bucked beneath his feet, staggering both him and the ghoul, but the undead creature refused to release its prize. Looking up over its shoulder, the marshal saw something... <em>huge</em> rise up out of the bloody ground of the camp yard. </p><p></p><p>The ghoul sensed the threat and turned, just in time to absorb an incredible blow that knocked it flying backward. The collision broke the connection between Tiros and the creature, and the marshal landed hard ten feet from where he’d started. The impact severed the last tenuous grasp he held on consciousness, and the black rushed in to enfold him. </p><p></p><p>But mere seconds passed before the marshal was yanked roughly back into awareness. He felt a fading tingle, the familiar rush of magical healing. The sensation was replaced almost immediately by a resurgent pain, a generous elixir comprised both of his own wounds and the aura that surrounded the ghoul. He looked up, still a bit dazed. He was lying on his stomach, with dead bodies scattered around him. He could not see Varo, and for an instant he wondered who had healed him. </p><p></p><p>That thought was eclipsed by the sight of the raging battle in front of him. </p><p></p><p>The thing that had struck him and the ghoul was a massive elemental, a creature formed from the very earth of the camp yard. It was over thirty feet tall, and it moved with the ponderous strength of a titan. As he watched, the ghoul smashed at it with its fists, but the elemental withstood its attacks far better than Tiros and his men had. Reaching down, it seized hold of the ghoul, its thick hands engulfing the much smaller creature. </p><p></p><p>A bright flash of light blinded Tiros. Its source was Varo, revealed now as the beam of <em>searing light</em> tore into the body of the ghoul. The creature screamed and intensified its struggles, but it could not break free of the elemental’s grasp. </p><p></p><p>And then, abruptly, it disappeared. </p><p></p><p>The elemental straightened ponderously, casting around for its missing enemy. Tiros stood, wincing slightly. The intense pain from the ghoul’s aura was gone, but the healing he’d received hadn’t been enough to fully repair his battered ribs and shoulder. </p><p></p><p>He looked at Varo. “Where...” But the cleric interrupted him with a raised hand. </p><p></p><p>The ghoul reappeared a moment later, materializing in mid-leap. It descended upon the cleric, jaws open wide, claws reaching for his throat as it dropped.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 3868180, member: 143"] Chapter 286 HUNGRY FOR DEATH Tiros fumbled for his sword; he’d dropped the weapon with the last hit, and his hand clawed only on bare earth. The ghoul towered over him, its breath thick with blood and death. It reached for him, and through the spasms of pain he felt a cold fear clench at his gut. Then something blurred between them, and there was a flash of bare steel, and a terrible roar from the creature. “Marshal, get back!” And then hands were grabbing at him, pulling him to his feet. Tiros staggered as he tried to get his legs working properly. He turned and saw his adjutant, the young officer Tiberius Probus, hacking at the ghoul with a long blade. Another two men, both young officers in his staff, flanked Probus, trying to force the ghoul back with a pair of short spears. “Tiberius, no!” Tiros knew what was coming, but he could do nothing to stop it; it was as if time had slowed to a dragging crawl around him. He could only watch as the ghoul reached out, batting aside the Probus’s blade almost casually, seizing his arm with a meaty paw. It yanked hard, ripping the man off his feet. Its mouth opened cavernously, and with a single motion it engulfed his entire skull. Even as Tiros’s shout echoed in his head the creature bit down, and decapitated the young officer. Noise and motion came crashing back upon him as time resumed its normal flow. Tiros felt a surge of bile rise in his throat, and he staggered back, half-dragged by a pair of young soldiers whose faces were wide with terror. Finally he was able to tear free from the men holding him, although the effort nearly cost him his balance again. All around him was chaos; men were fleeing, and screams of pain and panic echoed through the camp. Behind him was carnage, a field of dismembered corpses extending to where the ghoul continued its swath of violence. Glancing back, Tiros saw that the ghoul had taken down one of the spearmen; as the other screamed and tried to flee it leapt onto his back, bearing him down into the dirt. It reached down and tore the poor man’s arms off, stuffing them into its gaping maw one after the other. Looking around, the marshal realized that he was, at least in the immediate area, alone. As the ghoul turned its hungry gaze upon him, he turned and started to run. His foot turned on a dropped spear, and he fell hard, the breath knocked from his lungs by the impact. [i]Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me![/i] Tiros thought, the pain and fear making him feel almost giddy. He could no longer distinguish the pains of his own body from those that surged out from the ghoul. He did not look back, grimacing as he tried to pull himself back up. His limbs felt like they belonged to someone else, controlled by a tangled skein of cords by a distant puppeteer. He could not get up. But as he struggled, he looked up and saw something unusual; a nebulous, misty form, descending from the sky toward his position. Tiros’s eyes widened in surprise as the vague cloud touched down just a few paces in front of him. It took on substance as it landed, the mists coalescing into a physical form, and with a start he recognized the newcomer. “Varo!” The cleric reached down and grabbed the marshal, lifting him to his feet. Tiros felt a flood of magical energy rush through his body. It did not dispel the pain that radiated from the ghoul, but it purged his injuries, and restored strength to his battered frame. Varo pressed a weapon into his palm, a heavy mace of black metal. As he grasped it, the head of the mace burst into eager red flame. “Keep it busy,” the cleric said. A slight twist in his lips was the only indicator that the cleric was even aware of the pain that was exuded from the undead monster. Without waiting to see whether Tiros would comply, he took a step back and began incanting, clutching the dark sigil of his god in one fist. Tiros turned to see that the ghoul was already coming. It was continuing to feed, cramming dismembered chunks of man into its huge gullet as it tromped forward. The wounds it had suffered in the earlier battle appeared to have healed completely, although a few arrows still jutted out from its bloated body. Other than a few groaning, crippled men, the area was clear of soldiers; those who could flee had done so. Tiros could hear men shouting orders from elsewhere in the camp, but those sounds faded into the background as he focused his attention on the ghoul. His gaze started to shift, toward the wreckage that had been Tiberius and the other young officers, but he mercilessly forced his stare back to the creature. As he strode forward, the ghoul paused, regarding him with a cold, hateful expression. Its entire head and torso were splattered with blood and gore from the victims it had consumed. Tiros’s hands clenched on the haft of the mace. “All right, you freaking bastard, come deal with me!” he shouted, his roar echoing the feral hiss that issued from the ghoul. The marshal took a step forward, but that was all he got to do before the ghoul sprang forward, closing the distance between them in a surprising blur of motion. Once again, the ghoul held nothing back, laying out a heavy paw in an all-out power attack aimed squarely at the marshal’s midsection. But Tiros had expected the move, if not the speed with which it came, and he hurled himself aside at the last instant. Its claw swiped through the air where he’d been standing, close enough so that the ends of its nails tore through his already-tattered surcoat. Tiros countered quickly, smashing Varo’s mace into the creature’s meaty side. The blow scored, the flames burning around the weapon’s head searing its unholy flesh. But otherwise it was like clubbing a whale with a switch; the ghoul was preternaturally tough, and its sagging flesh absorbed most of the impact of the blow. Tiros lifted the mace to strike again, aiming this time for the creature’s head. But the ghoul was faster. Once again its mouth gaped impossibly wide, and it lunged forward, engulfing the marshal’s shoulder in its jaws. Bones cracked as it bit down, hard, and Tiros screamed in pain. The ghoul tightened its claws into meaty fists and slammed its arms together, striking the embattled commander hard on the sides of his torso. Despite his armor, ribs cracked under the force of those titanic blows. Tiros staggered and nearly fell, but it was clear that whatever stubborn determination kept him standing would not long withstand the violence of the ghoul’s assault. He tried to break free, wrenching his arm up and thrusting the burning mace against the side of the ghoul’s head, but the attempt was feeble, and the creature ignored his efforts. The undead monstrosity wrapped its arms around its prize, dragging Tiros into a rough embrace. His armor held, keeping it from tearing his entire shoulder from his body, but as it gained a secure hold it started to shift its attention toward his neck, where only a thin covering of chain links protected his flesh. Tiros struggled feebly and uselessly against the ghoul, his grasp on consciousness wavering. But before the ghoul could finish him, he became aware of a loud rumbling noise that seemed to rattle deep within his bones. The ground bucked beneath his feet, staggering both him and the ghoul, but the undead creature refused to release its prize. Looking up over its shoulder, the marshal saw something... [i]huge[/i] rise up out of the bloody ground of the camp yard. The ghoul sensed the threat and turned, just in time to absorb an incredible blow that knocked it flying backward. The collision broke the connection between Tiros and the creature, and the marshal landed hard ten feet from where he’d started. The impact severed the last tenuous grasp he held on consciousness, and the black rushed in to enfold him. But mere seconds passed before the marshal was yanked roughly back into awareness. He felt a fading tingle, the familiar rush of magical healing. The sensation was replaced almost immediately by a resurgent pain, a generous elixir comprised both of his own wounds and the aura that surrounded the ghoul. He looked up, still a bit dazed. He was lying on his stomach, with dead bodies scattered around him. He could not see Varo, and for an instant he wondered who had healed him. That thought was eclipsed by the sight of the raging battle in front of him. The thing that had struck him and the ghoul was a massive elemental, a creature formed from the very earth of the camp yard. It was over thirty feet tall, and it moved with the ponderous strength of a titan. As he watched, the ghoul smashed at it with its fists, but the elemental withstood its attacks far better than Tiros and his men had. Reaching down, it seized hold of the ghoul, its thick hands engulfing the much smaller creature. A bright flash of light blinded Tiros. Its source was Varo, revealed now as the beam of [i]searing light[/i] tore into the body of the ghoul. The creature screamed and intensified its struggles, but it could not break free of the elemental’s grasp. And then, abruptly, it disappeared. The elemental straightened ponderously, casting around for its missing enemy. Tiros stood, wincing slightly. The intense pain from the ghoul’s aura was gone, but the healing he’d received hadn’t been enough to fully repair his battered ribs and shoulder. He looked at Varo. “Where...” But the cleric interrupted him with a raised hand. The ghoul reappeared a moment later, materializing in mid-leap. It descended upon the cleric, jaws open wide, claws reaching for his throat as it dropped. [/QUOTE]
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