Hours passed, or at least that was how it felt, and I could see that the strain was wearing on Zala. I had done enough with my magic, it was time to finish things in the old-fashioned way. Truth be told, I longed to take a more direct and physical approach.

I stood up surprisingly smoothly and broke cover. My dark silhouette must have been plain to see, for a few of the crabs' antennae waved spasmodically in my direction. Too engaged with their activities, they barely paid me any notice.

Zala, a little less sure on her feet, took position behind me as I strode forth. The crabs that were left were far smaller creatures, only waist high and the diameter of their carapaces only about a meter and a half. As I drew closer to them, they began to click their claws and chitter in warning as their feeble brains finally began to register the threat.

I weaved the song threads of my Holy Aura, casting it in a burst of golden radiance. The light scattered across the dark lake, refracting in a kaleidoscope of color. But these creatures did not care one whit, for they were blind and could not see, and thus could not truly appreciate the dread future that was descending upon them.

My new shield formed on my left, taking the shape of a small round wooden targe, the edges of which were plated in metal. The Azag-Gishban, I held as a hammer, its comforting weight an assurance.

Sidling up to me, some of the Ghostwalkers waved their claws threateningly. Unfortunately for them, the time for threats had long past. All that was left was the struggle, the conflict, the harvest of experience.

I started to jog, swatting aside a claw of one of the crabs. Using the momentum of my parry, I then smashed where the roots of its antennae met its carapace, a simple Power Strike enhancing the force of the blow. Chitin was no match against forged steel and there was an explosion of green-tinged viscera as its shell was rent asunder. I kicked at the pathetic thing, knocking it away, its legs still thrashing, as its body still had not registered its own death.

I felt a heavy strike across my left cuisse that only served to annoy me. The damage caused was only five Health points and was absolutely insignificant. Hope filled me, a glorious thing that I drank deeply of. I was strong here, stronger than a normal man had the right to be. But then again I was more than a normal man,

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Swiveling smoothly, a maneuver that Cordelia taught me, I moved to deal with the monster that had the temerity to strike me. It was no different from its peers, and like its peers, it would meet a similar fate. Unfortunately, it was backed by others of its kind. Something whispered to me then, to try something different.

Instead of my usual bread and butter Power Strike, I surrendered myself to one of my newer skills, Frenzied Strikes. What followed next was a haze of craze-filled violence. Catastrophe was my weapon, and none were spared my wrath. Again and again, I used the skill, each use of it more tempting than the last. Every wave of unleashed rage was a cathartic release against this very world. I slashed, smashed, stabbed, punched and kicked. Again and again, my body following the rhythm of wrath, as more and more monsters fell. Caring nothing for my defense, I was struck countless times, the shield in my hand nothing more than just another bludgeoning tool.

Another of the creatures caught me in a vice-like grip around the ankle, I knelt and smashed the offending pincer with my hammer. Yet another monster crab drew me close, its horrible limbs trying to squeeze the life out of me. Experimentally, I used Rush Strike, and at such close remove, it simply resulted in the creature flying off me with its shell cracked in several places, its claw arm ripped from its socket.

Distracted by my last opponent, I allowed a strong-shelled limb to smack into my back, sending me reeling from the impact. A spike of pain flared as something found its way through the weak points of my cuisse, burrowing through the mail.

My Stamina was draining rapidly, and I realized, so too was my Health, as the remaining creatures swarmed me, inflicting a deluge of minor hurts. But at the end of the day, they were only minor hurts, trivial things that barely stung at all.

Perhaps it was because of the new mark that granted me minor regeneration, my ridiculously high Constitution, or my new armor, but I was weathering this storm. Though they were damaging me slightly faster than I could heal ‘naturally’, at the rate I was mowing them down, their fate was all but sealed.

However, I am not a man to leave things to chance, no matter how deep I had drunk from battle’s cup. Hubris had always been a fatal flaw of the powerful. In a single cognizant moment of clarity, the eye of the storm, I unleashed a Drain spell on a more distant creature to balance the equation even more in my favor. The questing dark found it, a few tendrils of spell finding other targets in the crowd. Their life energy, along with Holy Aura, would help fuel my cull. The new energy lent me strength, and like a carpenter knocking down rebellious nails, my weapon rose and fell, rose and fell.

And how the experience flowed.