FIGHT FOR YOUR LIVES!!!!
A picture: Two men stand opposed in the center of the field. One is resplendent in shining raiment befitting a proper cleric, his enemy is swathed in furs and supple leather armor. The cleric’s mace gleams and glints in the light, bright and shining and virginal. The bandit’s blade is nicked and stained and razor sharp. |
Kendrick
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The combatants were not equal. That was evident to me immediately, but what Corinth lacked in skill he made up for in fervor and enthusiasm (1).
His mace made wide arcs, haymakers that would have torn his enemy’s head from its shoulders should it have landed squarely.
His opponent made it interesting at least. The first blow nearly hit home, but his head pulled back just in time, and I swear I saw him kiss the mace as it went by. Blade lashing out in a counter strike drawing a line of blood across Corinth’s cheek. His fury went unchecked and his attack redoubled.
Each blow was met with a ringing blade as the bandit slapped the mace away each time until—
SMASH!
The mace struck a solid blow.
The bandit recoiled from the blow, and swept the legs out from under Corinth. He lashed out with his foot and kicked the mace away. He stood over Corinth and reversed his grip on the sword and lifted it above his head in a dramatic coup-d'etat.
The owl man made quick flick of his wrist (2) and a golden sand blew in on a strong breeze that came from the small hole in reality that the wizard had opened. I could see into it and there was a golden desert, the sky there was a cool lavender and the sun a deep ochre. The breeze and particles of sand it carried swirled around the bloodthirsty bandit and all at once he collapsed, the breeze strengthened into a stiff wind and more sand flooded the air, rushing for Rupert and his men next.
Roaring out commands and hefting his axe; the Axeman and his two henchmen circled out, one headed in my direction and the other racing towards Icarus as Rupert advanced on Corinth.
I watched, needing to see if the owl who was not what he seemed would need my help. He went into more exaggerated motions and awkward gyrations and the henchman approaching stiffened and then turned around.
1) He performed much the same way during our tour of duty aboard the vessel DARKSTAR.
2) Do they...do they have wrists?
“What are you doing? Kill the bird,” roared Rupert but the man did not, instead turning and moving  |
| "Kill the bird.." |
back towards his leader. He raised his sword and charged, screaming in a resistance of sorts.
“Defend me!” intoned the Winged Wizard.
The bandit approaching me was a burly fellow clad in leather armor that had seen better days. It was beaten, scuffed and cut, and I would have bet that it had most recently been on another person’s body. One that was much thinner as his bulk clearly strained it at the seams where the armor should connect. Instead, his midsection constantly seemed to be attempting to break free. If his armor looked beaten and broken it was nothing compared to his face which resembled a bruised and partially crushed yellow squash. His eyes were deep set in his face and filled with a lurid light at the thought of the violence to come.
His throat had seen better days as well. Days before my dagger’s hilt appeared in it as if by magic (3) and blood seeped forth from the wound. I stepped forward into his approach as even then he was determined to cause me bodily harm, though I suspect it was more an attempted quid pro quo in the moment of his death. My forward lunge took him completely by surprise, and I grabbed hold of the hilt of my dagger.
“I need this, there’s killing yet to be done,” I said in my most consoling and sympathetic voice even as I wrenched the blade free from his throat with an exaggerated sawing motion. Blood that had merely seeped, now sprayed in a glittering crimson spray.
I stepped past him and readied my blade to throw again in time to see the Axeman live up to his name. The sand arrived a split second before the enchanted henchman, and Rupert shuddered and gave a heaving, and almost-apocalyptic sneeze but otherwise remained alert and—unfortunately—on his feet. The henchmen, frothing at the mouth and waving his blade wildly raced up and stopped dead. He planted his left foot and swung all the momentum into a pivot that turned the sword clutched in his right into a blur of steel as he thrust the blade at Rupert.
I am still unclear as to what happened next but here is my best impression: the blade hit home but seemed to slide aside, and was lost in the tangle of bulk and armor and fur cloak that was Rupert. Lithely, the Axeman whirled with blow and—performing a kind of deadly pirouette—came back around, only this time leading with the axe. It took the henchman in the abdomen and passed through with only minor resistance. Blood geysered and sprayed a gruesome torrent as the Axeman strode forward.
3) No magic though. I learned how to throw a knife underhanded and from the hip from a people indigenous to a small archipelago. They also taught me how to judge the content of a man’s soul before taking his life.
I threw my blade, even as I saw Icarus make the same complicated hand gesture that he had used to control his attacker and I relaxed. This fight was over I thought even as my dagger embedded itself harmlessly in the hide protecting Rupert’s ample mass.
Icarus finished but Rupert showed no signs of slowing. I saw the owlman’s eyes go wide (well wider) and he quickly repeated the same gesture. This time it worked and Corinth’s attacker stirred, but...where was Corinth? I looked but did not see him, nor had I seen him stand.
The man Icarus now controlled stood and faced Rupert. The owlman followed suit by drawing a dirk from the folds of his robes and they rushed forward. Suddenly there was a flash of holy light and I could see Corinth behind Rupert.
My companions were swift and decisive, as all of this happened before I could pull out one of my backup daggers to throw again. I glanced to my left, towards the tree as my companions began to engage the beast-in-a-man that was Rupert. Something was different in that direction but my glance told me nothing of any interest. My hand located the dagger and pulled it back to throw as I watched for an opening.
Rupert stood before them and all three warriors readied their weapons. Rupert’s axe lashed out at his companion-turned-murder-puppet, but the blade missed as the bandit sidestepped and lashed back with blade and striking Rupert’s forearm. The blade sunk in deep but did not cause more than scratch. Corinth, standing behind Rupert raised his mace and landed a crushing blow on Rupert’s back. The mace raced down and...bounced harmlessly off the mass of furs and armor that protected him.
An opening! At last! I raised my blade—intending to throw it at Rupert’s unprotected throat—when suddenly a shadowy figure raced out from the fringe of the clearing and leapt onto Rupert’s face, clawing frantically.
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What Grit pocketed.
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Rupert wildly tried to free his face from this blinding and writhing mass of annoyance and pain. He succeeded, throwing the shadowy figure free after a moment. I followed the arc of the shadowy figure’s descent and saw it was Grit! He returned not a minute too soon! He stood up and, put something in a pocket, pulled something out from a different pocket and then rushed back at the Axeman. His fervor was unnecessary, for now his assailants were causing Rupert real harm.
The murder-puppet drove his longsword into Rupert’s stomach, and the blade managed to slip past the thick leather armor he wore stopping only when it reached the hilt. Rupert raised his axe—held two-handed—over his head in retaliation,and the blade crashed down The axe split the murder-puppet’s head in twain and—with a pop and a hiss—all of the man’s knowledge and thoughts and dreams and aspirations sprayed out into the world, coating Rupert’s glee and hate filled face and staining the grin that he wore red. His grin widened as he took in Icarus, holding his dirk. He wrenched on the axe, but it stuck.
CRACK!!!
SNAP!!!
AAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!
Corinth’s mace crashed into Rupert’s knee and dropped him to the ground with a rumble. Grit leaped forward and caught the hilt of the sword jutting out and dragged it down, causing Rupert to howl in agony, his head thrown back.
Icarus did not hesitate and rammed the dirk up through the soft part of the back of Rupert’s head. The blade jutted suddenly out of Rupert’s left eye socket in a spray of blood and ocular jelly. Icarus released the hilt and stepped back as the axeman trembled and seized, his body quaking and bending in the exquisite agony that are the throes of death. He bent back so far in his pain that we all heard a cracking sound as, and I am guessing here, his spine snapped in twain.
And Rupert the Axeman was dead.
Endings and conclusion
“And that is what happened,” said Grit, the terribly selfless and heroic goblin whom I am glad to call friend.
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| A Wood-wife |
He stood with a gaggle of gorgeous women, the wives of the wood, who were telling us that they needed to be off if they were to get back home to their husbands before nightfall.
And with that it seemed our adventure was over. Corinth and the lads were able to find the spoils of the bandit camp, I’m unclear of the details there but he seemed happy.
As I was hanging about the bandit’s camp, I noticed that Grit was admiring some sort of family heirloom, a necklace of some kind. Seemed shiny and well cared for. Goblins, I suppose, are a fastidious race. I envy that about them as I am an “unorganized slob” to some, whereas I prefer the term free spirit.
And in the spirit of that freedom, I am free to wrap up this adventure as I see fit and so I will do so with the truth. The truth is that I have almost no recollection of the aftermath of that battle, I know the broad strokes of it. I know there was loot, and the wood wives, and I said many thank yous and goodbyes to my companions but... in my mind I was already heading back to the lake where Brook lived.
It was not long at all before my body followed suit.
And that lake is where I shall be, content until the next adventure comes calling.
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