Choice 1. Help the legionaries in the street first?
Blood dripping red on the steel of his newly acquired longsword, Gregor charged towards the two lines of legionaries that had formed up, his sword hilt cracking skulls, and blade a flash of lightning as he danced through streets filled with goblins, orcs, and guards, when he reached them and spun on his heels.
Sword blocking two spearheads, he cut the wiry bastards down, and felt blood trickle down his chest from a light stab wound he hadn't noticed.
-1 HP.
(Lead a countercharge.)
Voice a guttural growl of malevolence, Gregor roared "on me!" And charged back into the thick of battle, spears whipping past his head as goblins let loose a volley, before he heard the rumble of steel, and crashed into the goblins who were too scattered and weak to hold them back. The legionaries who poured forward on either side, a methodical nightmare of thrusting swords, and shields that smashed goblin skulls, and plated boots that cracked through marrow and bone.
Gregor who stood at the head of the storm, a whirlwind of death as more fireballs exploded around him, until there was nothing left. The wounded villagers that were strewn about, attended to by soldiers in blood-spattered armor, when the officer that had arrested Gregor, strode over to his side.
Hard of face and eyes, he looked around at the bloody massacre, and shook his head in disbelief. "Anyone ever tell you, that you fight like a demon?"
Expression as cold as ice, Gregor smiled a dangerous smile, felt the warm hot rage inside, and quickly strode away to the Golden Goose, the shattered doors already open.
Heart thumped to a halt as he stepped inside, he felt his knees buckle at the sight of corpses flung all about the room, and at the far back, a bleeding and terrified Lytan.
The boy, trembling with a shortsword in hand, stood at the far corner of the room with Myrissa lying there on the inn's floor, and Sara right beside her.
Eyes squeezed shut, he wanted to scream not again, when he heard footsteps from behind, turned to see Khorasan, and pleaded, "help them!"
The elven mage who seemed as startled by the display of emotion and bloodsoaked floorboards, hurried away across the room to kneel at their sides, when the boy collapsed into his arms. Lytan who had only moments ago, stood tall over a dead goblin, grew pale as a sheet as blood seeped out from a wound in his neck. The power that shone in Khorasan's hands, a white glow of heat that flowed over their bodies, when the mage finally stood up.
Face somber, and eyes weary with exhaustion, he said, "they will live. The Lightbearer knows how they survived this attack, but they will live."
Head turned to look back at him, the elf asked, "I must ask you, Gregor, have you made a decision?"
Gaze never leaving their small crumpled up bodies, he nodded, and scrubbed a hand across his chin. "I have."
"Well?!"
Releasing a heavy sigh, he looked up. "I offer you my sword, until they are safe."
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Brown eyes lifted upward in surprise, Khorasan rubbed the blood from his hands. "You know that could be a while yet?"
"I know." And for what seemed like an eternity, Gregor waited for them to wake.
-2 HP.
Move onto the next Scenario.
(Hold position.)
Voice a guttural growl of frustration at wasting time here when he should be looking for Lytan and Sara, he rushed back down the packed streets, and pushed himself into the line of soldiers. The hard-faced legionaries from half a dozen different races, all but squeezing him in, and rebuffing him from side to side, before he shot them a hot glower which stilled more than a few complaints.
Goblins who by nature were cunning little shits, slowed down to flank them, and hurled spears that thumped against shields and heavy armor, forcing Gregor to parry them out of the air. A tricky bit of swordplay if he said so himself, especially with so many around, but doable enough that he deflected most without serious injury. The dwarf on his right however was not so lucky with one of the spears punching right through his throat, before his place was taken by a solid elf. His death not the first one among them as the yellow-eyed devils ululated high-pitched warcries, beat their painted chests, and whittled their lines away with spears. The only thing to stop them from being decimated from a distance was limited supplies, and fireballs that began to fly over their heads.
High-pitched shrieks transformed into whines of fear, he heard a gruff voice bellow charge, and without thought Gregor leapt forward, and beat a bloody path, his speed and strength, causing a wedge to form up behind him as he screamed like a blood maddened wolf. The legionaries who poured forward on either side, a methodical nightmare of thrusting swords, and shields that smashed goblin skulls, and plated boots that cracked through marrow and bone.
Gregor who stood at the head of the storm, a whirlwind of death as more fireballs exploded around him, until there was nothing left. The wounded villagers that were strewn about, attended to by soldiers in blood-spattered armor, when the officer that had arrested Gregor, strode over to his side.
Hard of face and eyes, he looked around at the bloody massacre, and shook his head in disbelief. "Anyone ever tell you, that you fight like a demon?"
Expression as cold as ice, Gregor smiled a dangerous smile, felt the warm hot rage inside, and quickly strode away to the Golden Goose, the shattered doors already open.
Heart thumped to a halt as he stepped inside, he felt his knees buckle at the sight of corpses flung all about the room, and at the far back, a bleeding and terrified Lytan.
The boy, trembling with shortsword in hand, stood at the far corner of the room with Myrissa lying there on the inn's floor, and Sara right beside her.
Eyes squeezed shut, he wanted to scream not again, when he heard footsteps from behind, turned to see Khorasan, and pleaded, "help them!"
The elven mage who seemed as startled by the display of emotion and bloodsoaked floorboards, hurried away across the room to kneel at their sides, when the boy collapsed into his arms. Lytan who had only moments ago, stood tall over a dead goblin, grew pale as a sheet as blood seeped out from a wound in his neck. The power that shone in Khorasan's hands, a white glow of heat that flowed over their bodies, when the mage finally stood up.
Face somber, and eyes crinkled with deep sadness, he said, "I am sorry, Gregor, but they are all dead. There is nothing I can do for them, we are too late."
Heart thumped to a halt, he sank to his knees, and stared down at his hands. If only he had been faster, if only he had gotten here quicker, if only...gods damn it not again!
Eyes blinded by tears he stormed out of the inn, barely hearing Khorasan's cry, and kept running, the wind and land a blur of motion as all he could see were their crumpled up bodies. He had failed her again, and he had no idea what to do.
Many years Later...
Mind drowned in bottles of heart-knocker in an inn at the far reaches of Coroleya, Gregor heard tales of Orkeylium's fall and the rise of the new empire that had captured Caldashar, Kahloon, and it's massed armies at Vanclar, and felt nothing. For all he cared, the world could end.
An End.
(You have achieved one of several endings.)