Fuck … that armoured ogre is a fucking trip, but then this whole mess has been. I’m so pissed at Du right now, he was totally right and I know he’d be feeling real smug and totally lording it over me if things were different. But they ain’t – we’re hiding in the yard of a fucking brickworks and he’s a bloody mess again. It’s all fucked, and I know full well it’s my fault.
That imori … he was the biggest surprise. He seemed to come right outta nowhere, when we reached the waste ground of the Lower Heath he seemed to slide from the gloom, and the next thing I knew I was on the ground and Dumoli was bleeding beside me. Turned out he’d just picked up on the attack in time, shoving me aside before the lizardman could cut me open, so he caught the intended gutting stroke hard in his side. The only blessing was he got tagged so fast he didn’t really notice he’d been laid open in the process, so he was just lying there, blinking in surprise as he tried to sit up.
Brung was the only reason I didn’t get cut down right after that, our goblin friend must’ve just homed in on the imori right away just through that distinctive stink of his that’d been throwing him off before, and he sprang. Didn’t even bother trying to get his sword out, he just leapt with a blood-curdling snarl and attacked with claws and teeth. Might be that’s the only reason he wasn’t battered off and cut in two himself, the inexplicable newcomer just weren’t expecting that.
Gave me time to get to Dumoli and start tending to him as he finally realised he’d just been fundamentally fucked up. The blow hadn’t quite managed to gut him, instead carving a deep, gaping gash up under his ribs, laying his gambeson wide open, but it was definitely still a real bad wound. He’s bleeding like a stuck pig, even once I dragged off my cloak and bundled it up to try and press down on the wound and stem the flow it quickly got sodden, and I’m scared he could be dead before actual help even arrives.
Gael and the rest turning up when they did saved our lives in the moment, but by then some o’ the others had started to make their own presence felt. While the imori was distracted I started taking fire o’ my own, somebody was loosing arrows at us and they had pretty wicked aim, one shaft coming close enough I’d have wound up with a broadhead in my throat if I’d moved a split slower. So I just gave up trying to fix my friend’s injuries and set him to put his own pressure to it while I just took a good hold under his arms and started dragging him to safety. Anything I could find really. Which is when I spotted the brickworks.
It's a smart spot for them to work out of, actually – there’s a whole lot of open, empty space here on the Heaths, so when they form their rows of fresh-made bricks to dry in the sun before firing they don’t need space outside the city for it. Not that there was anything laid out when we arrived that I might’ve needed to stumble over, but maybe this was an off day, when the crews are busy cutting clay outside the city for transport back. I don’t really know how it works. All I saw is that the place was quiet and seemingly empty, but the gate to the yard was open, and I wasn’t about to start questioning what good fortune had just presented itself. Not with all this shit going on …
Then Brung got chucked off and started scrambling our way, and I realised that we had more company – a dragonhalf woman, a particularly striking one too, fully armed and clearly in charge, and a half-orc. They were starting to close in on us, moving slow and careful since they’d obviously seen Brung laying into their scaly companion, but already starting to flank around us. Just as Gael jumped in out of nowhere close by, and all hell broke loose.
Turns out whoever this bunch is, they got a wizard of their own, and they just opened up the moment our friends arrived. They must’ve had those fireballs already primed and ready to go the way they just started chucking ‘em around, and they weren’t even bothering to try and aim first, just hurling at anything that moved they were sure wasn’t their own people. I called out the best warning I could to the others but they were already peeling off, scattering for cover, and after that I didn’t bother hanging around anymore, I just started dragging Du in earnest, taking full advantage of the distraction while I could.
Thankfully Brung had the good sense to come with us, but I reckon it was as much just concern for Du as anything else. We tried our best to ignore all the craziness going on outside, instead concentrating on looking for help in here, or at least somewhere we can maybe lay low so I could try to take care of Du’s wound.
I found the first body before we got very far, but then they clearly weren’t trying too hard to hide what they been doing in here. Reckon it’s the imori’s work, or ‘least he was the one started it all, likely the others joined in once it became inevitable they’d have to kill everybody else. Turns out the place ain’t quiet cuz they’re somewhere else, it’s just cuz they’re all dead. Murdered en masse in the middle of whatever they were doing. The kilns are still burning away, likely full of bricks that are probably getting pretty burnt now. If they actually do, like I said I don’t really know.
“Thel, trouble.” Brung growled, keeping low as he started searching the shadows with his indecently bright yellow eyes.
“Really? I hadn’t guessed.” I looked round for a moment, searching for a safe spot to regroup, keeping my voice good and low. “Just keep your nose open.”
The look he gave he was enough he didn’t have to spit a retort, but then he never does. Instead he just started sniffing the air, falling back a little as I kept working on moving Du. I was most o’ the way towards the back of the line of ovens when he scampered up, surprising me by the way I didn’t even know he was there until he was right on top of us, he’s still so damn silent.
“Down.” He barely hissed the word but it was urgent all the same, and I took him at his word, dropping Du as gently as I could manage while dropping onto my front. It took me a long moment to get what he was even on about, the first thing I actually registered was the approach of some seriously heavy footfalls.
This whole place is a clutter, even without the bodies it’d be jumbled so there’s plenty o’ cover, but even so I kept as low as I could and just trusted that, if we were spotted, in this relative gloom far from the torchlight we’d probably just look like more corpses. Meanwhile Brung was gone almost before I realised it, but then that’s the way he does it. He didn’t abandon us, I’m sure o’ that, he’s just too good at hiding.
Fucking hell, that ogre is scary. Been a while since I ran into one, and that last time it was mostly more of a near miss than any actual encounter. In the end we were able to just run and escape through a nice tight gap, enough we could put some distance between us and it before it could get after us again. But it still scared the hell outta me, enough that this encounter gave me fresh chills. I mean I could almost have been forgiven for thinking they actually had a golem with ‘em, but a closer look told me it’s just armour. Like this thing even needs it. But that’s telling in itself.
Among the many old war stories Mulden told me over the years he looked out for me, the accounts of his times in the Reaches were the darkest, and definitely the hairiest. The Tektehrans would put any advantage they could scrape up into the field to turn the tide on the battlefield, and one that the Rundao armies borrowed before too long themselves was the armoured ogres. Just a handful could tear through a whole company of Terrors in a matter of minutes, ‘least until those unholy guns of theirs started to see use on the front lines. Then the field became more level again. But for a while there …
He sure made ‘em sound like the scariest things alive, and seeing that thing stalking through the yard put a cold, hard weight right in the middle o’ me, big enough I just held my breath and pretended to be dead until it was gone.
The ogre weren’t alone, either. Turns out there’s another merc, waiting here with it. This one’s a hob, or ‘least half o’ one, since she’s clearly taller’n most I come across, ‘cept maybe that wizard healer, works at the Temple. She’s quite attractive in a somewhat feral way, slight and willowy with a definite grace in the way she moves suggests the other half o’ her blood might be elven, and she’s young too. Somehow she seems at odds with the rest I seen in their group so far, more innocent maybe, but I learned not to judge appearances. ‘Specially not given the company she’s keeping.
Clear enough too she’s likely a cleric, although I suspect for one o’ the more serious, po-faced gods, prob’ly Corvina given she’s dressed head to toe in black. Her long, heavy robe coat is mostly thick rawhide leather, but trimmed and detailed in black silk that’s clearly an affectation, much like her tunic and skirts, with a heavy wool cloak to complete the image. The mantle and deep hood are the most striking part of the ensemble, however, thickly trimmed with what look like sleek jet black raven feathers. Then there’s her gauntlets, with gloves of rich black kid while the steel of her stylishly engraved bracers is clearly treated in a similar way to Thieves Guild blades to appear smoky dark in order to match the rest of her uniform. If she don’t serve the Raven Queen she’s definitely fooled me.
But instead of a hammer like Krakka, this one clearly favours a sword, although it’s one o’ the longest I ever seen, certainly big enough to look almost unwieldy in her hands. She don’t even bother wearing it belted on her hip or slung on her back, instead just toting it about in her left hand or leaned across her shoulder in its long, polished ebony scabbard. I can’t really tell with it sheathed, but it looks like it’d have quite a narrow, slender blade, gently curved with a surprisingly long hilt, although I suspect that’s as much to make it easier for her to wield it with both hands. However it works, I don’t like to think what she could actually do with it, more so with an actually goddess backing her up.
For a time they just hung around, the hob occasionally sniffing the air round her as she paced back and forth or muttering in hushed tones to the ogre, who’d simply shrug, nod or shake their head in response. I couldn’t really make out her face under that deep hood, but her manner told me enough about her mood, she was clearly anxious and concerned, but whether about her companions or the situation itself I couldn’t tell. Whatever it is, it made it clear enough to me this one’s definitely different from the rest.
Once I was sure they couldn’t just pick straight up on it, I took a chance and crept back to Dumoli, who was starting to get his head the situation, ‘spite o’ the blood loss likely making him lightheaded. Certainly he had enough presence of mind to just take a deep breath, clench his teeth and wince through it as I made another attempt to drag him deeper into cover, all the time taking great care to pay as much attention to those two as I could. Thankfully they didn’t pick up on it, although I suspect even with the hob’s much stronger sense o’ smell all the blood in the air’s probably enough to throw her off.
Eventually I get him propped up outta sight behind one of the kilns and bend down to tend to his wounds proper. By now his eyes have turned wild while his face is growing pale, and even in the bad light I can see his lips starting to turn blue. That’s never a good sign. But he still manages to focus enough to hold my stare.
“You … you have to go, Thel. Go now.”
I give him a long, hard glare for that. “No. Fuck that noise. I ain’t abandoning you, just forget it.” I try peeling the cloak away from the wound and it just hurts him more as the sticky half-dried blood causes the torn fabric around the wound to shift too. He fights a shout through tightly gritted teeth and rolls his eyes in clear pain, making me stop at once and just press down again. “Sorry.”
“Thel, I am fucked.” His breathing’s heavy, but he’s still making the best effort he can to be quiet. “I’ll be dead in less than an hour, at best. I don’t want you to die sooner trying to save me and just getting yourself caught as a result. That thing … you remember Mulden’s stories, right?”
Nodding, I just concentrate on pressing the ruined, sodden cloak to his wound again, mostly just worried how effective this even is any more. “Oh yeah. ‘Nuff to give me nightmares.”
“Yeah, well they weren’t exaggerated. I saw that for myself. That ogre cannot be killed. Not with anything we have to hand. Hell, I think even Driver 8 would have trouble with that thing.”
“All the more reason for me to get you outta here, then.” I growl, looking out now so I can keep track o’ what’s going on out there. I catch a glimpse of the hob, still pacing, but right now the ogre’s somewhere I can’t see. “I dunno, maybe there’s another way outta here.”
“If there is, you’re going to take it.” Du reaches up with very shaky hands and wraps his fingers round my own, weaker than I’d like but still strong enough to move my hands away from the cloak. “Now, please.”
“Yeah. I will. With you.”
“No you won’t.” He shifts himself a little, trying to sit up I reckon, but finally giving up, and casts about, raising his right hand and grasping vaguely. “Where’s … Thel, where’s my fucking hammer?”
“Somewhere outside.” I try to push him back down but he reaches up and brushes me off, surprisingly forcefully. “I was kinda occupied with you, you daft lummox.”
“Oh for …” He grunts with frustration and takes hold of the sword strapped at his hip. I rarely seen him use it, he’s always favoured the warhammer, but I know he’s still a force to be reckoned with wielding it. It’s his father’s, handed down through his family for generations, in fact, from the Founder Times after the Sundering, if he’s got it right. “Never mind, it’d probably just slow me down anyway.”
“What are you –”
“You’re going to sneak out while I’m distracting that big fucker.” Du grunts, wincing tightly as he reaches over and draws the sword, which takes a couple tries to get all the way out and leaves him breathing heavy, but even so he stops the moment it’s out, pausing like I’m doing now. Listening to see if we been heard. Nothing yet, and when I check the hob’s still looking away.
“Du, c’mon –”
“I’m not bloody arguing with you, Thel. I’m fucked, so I’m going to make sure you’re not.” He gives the sword a little squeeze, the leather on his gauntleted fingers creaking a little, and fixed me with a particularly pointed look. “I made a promise a long time ago, and I’ll be damned if I’m not bloody well going to keep it.”
“Oh yeah?” I give him a poke right through the bloody cloak, and he tenses instantly, almost dropping the sword as he barely stifles a yelp. “An’ just how far you reckon you’re even gonna get? Come off it.”
“Ah … fuck, Thel … come on, I told you –”
“No, fuck you. I ain’t letting you kill yourself just to save me. That’s fucking stupid.” I take a step closer to the corner of the kiln and risk a better look out. “Besides, I got no idea where that fucking ogre even is now. Can’t see it.”
“Gone.” Brung’s low rasp sounds almost right in my ear, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from crying out in shock as I stumble back into cover turning towards him. He’s just crouching there, watching me with that damnable closed look of his. “Few minutes ago. Stiffened up, got a look. Like it heard something. In its head. Then took off. Not a word.”
I gotta think for a moment to translate all that in my head, but it clicks into place. Of course. “Magic … must’ve been that wizard o’ theirs, reckon they can do something like Gael an’ Tulen. Talked right in their head, called ‘em out to help. Reckon the others are here in force now.”
“That’s good, then.” Dumoli hisses, again trying and failing to shift himself into a more comfortable position. “Oh … fuck … we can just wait them out, then.”
“No …” I chance a look round the corner again, seeing the hob just standing there in the middle of the yard, looking out towards the Heath now, I reckon. Thoughtful now, maybe, I still can’t tell under that hood. “No. It’s just that cleric, she’s alone. If I can take her out we’re in the clear, ‘least until the others can sort that shit out on their end.”
Du frowns deep. “No, wait … Thel, come on. Seriously, you have no idea what she’s actually capable of, if she even is actually alone here now. Think straight.”
“That’s just what I am doing, Du.” I reach over my shoulder and take hold of my battleaxe, taking care as I start to shrug it free of its harness. If I’m gonna be running the risk of facing that sword, might be better to have something a bit more serious to hand. “This is the smart play if I’m gonna get you outta here now, while we got an opportunity.”
“Need help?” Brung reaches over his own shoulder, fingering his shortsword’s hilt, but don’t draw it yet.
Shaking my head, I don’t even consider it. “No. If I can’t take her down ‘fore she notices me I need you to get Du outta here. Any way you can. Drag him if you have to, but do it. I give you cover, you use it. Promise me.”
The goblin don’t answer me for a long, loaded moment, just watching me with that cold, blazing yellow stare. “Promise.”
“Thel, come on, please.” Du grips the sword tighter as he tries to stand but it’s all he can do to prop himself up in the first place. “Ah … fuck, no … please, just think about this –”
“I ain’t dead yet, Du.” Shuffling in a low crouch, I start to make move the other way to cut round the back o’ the kilns, flank her if I can. “An’ I don’t plan to be anytime soon, either.”
Du opens his mouth to protest more, but I’m already ducking outta sight before he can get anything else out. Shifting the axe into my offhand, I press myself against the rough brick of the back wall of the kiln and hold my breath for a long moment, listening out now to see if I been rumbled. Still nothing … okay then. I shift my footing and start moving a little quicker, but still maintain as much stealthy silence as I can shod with steel.
I stop again just short of the corner of the last kiln before the big open space in the middle of the yard, where the hob was last time I looked. Taking a last breath, I heft the axe low in both hands and square my shoulders, ready to move if I have to when I step out. Then I hold that last breath and chance another slow, cautious glance.
She’s gone. Okay … that’s unexpected. I almost stand straight up but check myself in time, instead letting the breath out slow and shallow as I take my first step into the open. The hair on the back of my neck’s prickling like mad, I don’t like this at all.
I’m maybe halfway out into the middle of the yard, about where I saw her before, when I feel the itch at the back o’ my neck grow more insistent, a cold chill rolling down my spine now. I tense fast, turning on the spot as I tighten up into a ready guard, and seems like my instincts are on point this time, for what good it does me. The hob’s right there, and they’ve drawn their sword now, finally giving me a look at just how lethally dangerous that thing actually is as she squares up two-handed with it, low but ready all the same, three feet short o’ me now.
The blade alone is at least three feet long, curved like a dragon’s fang but a good deal more slender, less’n three inches at its widest, it looks like, and tapering to a very fine needle’s point at the tip. Truth be told the whole blade looks vicious keen to my eye, the worrying long single edge honed to a razor’s keenness, and while the metal seems, like everything else in her ensemble, intentionally dark, there’s something strangely bright about it too. The metal’s got a strange oiliness to it, but as I watch it almost seems like there’s light playing on it, as if it has its own source of illumination as a subtle radiance starts to build within in. It’s slow, almost languid, and seems colder, less brilliant than Krakka’s goddess’ Holy Light but … no, this is definitely still some kind of strange God Light all the same. If I had any lingering doubts that she’s a cleric o’ the Raven Queen they’re gone now.
She’s thrown back her hood now, so I get a better look at her face. I was right, she is pretty, in a wild kind of way, something like Yeslee but different too. Her cool, swarthy features are finer, more delicate, again suggesting there’s something elven in her blood, from her delicate, slender nose to her sculpted cheekbones, while her sideburns are much finer and less bristly than other hobs. Most notable there’s no bristly hair on her chin, while her brows are as thin and fine in their arches as the rest of her features. Her eyes, though, are as dark as I’d have expected, limpid black pools, and surprisingly large. She wears her surprisingly sleek jet black hair bound back in a braided bun, and her horns are fairly small, stubby things, dark ebony lightening into almost bone white at the tips as they flick out surprisingly straight towards the back of her skull.
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Strangely, there’s no true hostility in her expression, mostly she just seems curious as she regards me. There’s something almost … charming in that look, actually. It’s kind of endearing.
“My, you’re a sneaky one, aren’t you?” Her voice is soft, quite silken, another touch of elven blood, perhaps, and her accent speaks subtly of home, I realise. She’s from Abharet like me, although from the sound she grew up further north, near the border, I reckon. “Shame I caught your scent so easily once you moved.”
“Damn, guess I didn’t think o’ that.” I keep my own face coolly neutral, very aware she’s still got her alarmingly substantial sword cocked and ready. “Thought the blood in the air’d cover me. There’s a whole lot of it, after all.”
There’s a darkening of her expression at that, and it might actually be disapproval. Now I wonder if she actually had anything to do with this mess. She is very clean, looking at her. “That’s true. Of course, dead things don’t tend to move, so that somewhat gave you away.”
I can’t help smiling a little, she’s got a good point there. I give a little shrug, cocking my head. “Yeah, you got me there. ‘Course you seem the type’d know an awful lot ‘bout dead things. If you will.”
Now she cocks her own head as she regards me more closely. “In a way, perhaps, you’d be right. My Lady has her ways. She also likes things to stay dead once they’ve passed beyond The Veil. Things become … untidy if they don’t. Disordered.”
“You never brought anybody back, then? Would’ve thought that’d be a funny stand for a cleric to take, thought you folk were s’posed to be healers much as warriors.”
“We defend our Faith, above all else. But others too. Those who need our aid may receive it, if they ask for it.” Again that reluctance colours her expression, like she’s not entirely committed to what’s going on here. “There’s a period before a soul has passed when it can be drawn back, if My Lady chooses to allow it. But it comes at a cost. Many find it too great.”
It's interesting, the way she said that seems so filled with regret, I get the idea she’s got some ghosts of her own. I’m starting to wonder if, if she weren’t here to kill us, I might actually like this one.
“Don’t s’pose you’d be willing to call it quits on this, maybe help my friend out instead?” I almost don’t ask, but something about her makes me seriously weigh the options. It’s worth a shot.
She’s a long time answering, her frown deepening considerably, and her eyes flicker about briefly, certainly too quick for me to ever think about taking advantage of a distraction. Reckon she’s genuinely considering it, which is interesting. Almost encouraging. Until she winces, bitter now as she shakes her head with a hiss that shows her sharp teeth. “No, I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t. It’s unfortunate, it really is. You seem nice. You’re just not on our side.”
“Coming from a merc that almost sounds like hypocrisy.” I can’t keep the venom out of my words as I speak now, feeling the chill roll down my spine again, sensing violence approaching. “I thought clerics were s’posed to be above things like money.”
Narrowing her eyes, the half-hob sets her jaw, growing visibly colder now, and at the same time her blade begins to brighten. The light’s still less brilliant than Krakka’s bright fire, though, I’m starting to get the idea that Corvina’s Holy Light is colder, more subtle, although I doubt it burns any less. “Careful. I’m trying to be fair here.”
That makes me glare right back, any semblances of good humour I might’ve been enjoying instantly falling away. “Fair? Fuck that. You’re just like your friends, ain’t no talking round it. You’re here for money, here to kill me an’ mine for a fuckin’ bounty. Don’t sound fair to me.”
“Now who’s trying to pretend they’re above it? From what I’ve been told, you and yours are sellswords too. This comes with the job.” She adjusts her grip on the sword, opening her hands out a little more on the extensive haft of the hilt, and I see the slightest shift in her stance too. As if she’s resolved to her course now. “You won’t show any more mercy to us than we to you. Trying to argue anything else is true hypocrisy.”
There’s the quietest hissing coming from her blade now, like a hot sizzle, the kind you sometimes hear in extremely hot metal. My suspicions are confirmed, looks like. I feel another chill considering that.
Shrugging, I let out a sigh. “Fair enough, then.” And I attack. No preamble, I just rush her, swinging my battleaxe hard as I can at her.
There’s a momentary widening of her eyes seeing it, I almost catch her napping, but her reaction surprises me. She’s quick, real quick, darting back with an impressively fluid twist and deft skipping of feet, and instead of biting into her side like I planned my axe clatters into the waiting blade of her impressive sword. There’s a clang, but it’s a strangely subdued sound, largely muted under a far louder fizzing crackle as the blades meet with a great showering flash of surprisingly bright, hot sparks. I have to screw my eyes to tight slits to keep from getting blinded, and even then there’s a moment where I’m left with broken lines dancing in my vision as we break and I stumble back.
Fuck … that was like hitting solid iron, a lot of it. My axe is buzzing with mad reverberations, stinging my fingers and setting my teeth on edge while it’s given me a funny ringing in my head, while I can just about see, if I blink through the blur in my sight, that the blade is glowing. Like it’s just come out the forge. It don’t feel hot, but then I can’t really feel that well with my hands right now anyway. Fuck …
‘Least she ain’t doing much better, from what I can tell. She’s stumbled back too, holding the sword out to one side with her right hand while giving the other a hard shake, hissing in clear discomfort as she takes two more big steps away to clear space between us. Ouch … she really don’t look happy at all. When she looks up at me again I can see the surprise in her eyes, and maybe a little frustration. Not anger, not yet, but reckon that’s probably coming.
Taking a deep breath, I grit my teeth and clench my jaw as I let go with my left and give it a shake, just to get a little relief from the battering. My balance is good, at least, my head’s stopped ringing, hopefully there won’t be any more o’ that. ‘Cept her blade’s still blazing with that strange, cold half-light …
“Oof … that was … what was that?” she hisses at me after a long, loaded moment, eyes narrowing again.
“How should I –”
She thrusts her sword forward and grips it with both hands in an instant, and before I realise it she mutters something under her breath, what I realise must be an oath as the sword flares again, brighter than ever. Bright as I seen Krakka’s impressive hammer flare, actually. I barely have time to turn into it and bring my axe up …
… and it’s like getting hit broadside by a swinging log from a battering ram, I reckon. Or maybe when Driver 8 swings one of his massive metal fists. The axe takes the brunt of the hit with another cacophonous clang and this time the flaring blast of sparks is genuinely blinding, enough that all I see is white as I turn right over in the air, a full cartwheel before hitting the ground again. I land hard and roll, and I got no hope of holding onto the axe as I turn into a limp ragdoll.
Fuck! I must bounce three or four times before settling, and every inch of me is throbbing, both my arms numb like I just shoved ‘em in frozen river water while my head’s spinning wildly. It’s all I can do to think about anything at all, maybe just remembering how to breathe, I dunno … for what might be a few seconds, maybe an hour, I’m not really here anymore.
It’s all I can do to roll over again, but something’s pushing me to do it, to try and move at all, some strange insistent … slowly, like the timeless languid crawl of a grinding glacier, my mind starts to function like it’s s’posed to again, then I suddenly remember what’s going on … shit! I almost flip right over as I snap back to reality again, blinking as I try to look out again, but my vision’s just a blur, everything’s swimming worse than they ever have with tears in my eyes … oh Thorin I hate this shit …
I’m another long, painfully loaded moment realising I ain’t been attacked while I been down, even once I started moving again, and part o’ me can’t help wondering why … then my vision finally starts to clear and I manage to lift my head enough to try looking round, and after some searching I catch sigh o’ the half-hob and realise she’s just standing there, watching me. I gotta blink a few more times to clear my eyes enough to actually make out her face, and it’s even more surprising – she actually seems shocked. Maybe even guilty …
Sucking in a deep breath, I manage to force myself up onto my elbows and start crawling, once I got my knees under me too, then start casting about for my battleaxe, finally locating it. Fuck … it’s lying at least fifteen feet away from me, off to the left, and she’s a good deal closer on the right. Gods, how far did I even fly?
Well fuck … I got no choice, fight’s still on. She won’t hesitate long, I’m sure. Letting the breath go in a very weary sigh, I start crawling towards the axe, knowing full well there’s no chance I could actually get my feet under me yet. I mean I got no idea if I even got enough strength to swing to defend myself if she does attack me when I reach it.
“Oh fuck … please don’t.” She sounds so sad, I can’t help glancing her way. She’s not even trying to lift her sword now, it’s just hanging in one hand down at her side as she watches me go. “Please just … oh gods, I don’t know. Stay down, maybe?”
“Will you … ooooh … will you let me live if I do? Just fuck off an’ leave me alone? And my friends?”
She winces at that, I can see the frustration return, but it’s a good deal more regretful now. “Shit … no. Fuck … you know I can’t –”
“Then go fuck yourself.” I try to crawl a little faster, and slowly it starts to work.
“Shit …” She growls it under her breath, and I hear her take a few steps forward, but then she stops, and starts back the other way, sounds like. Frustrated pacing, like she was doing before, I realise. She don’t want to kill me, I realise. So far mostly she’s just been fighting by pure reflex.
I’m getting close … another few feet and I might be able to reach for it, ‘least if I stretch …
“Damn it …” she hisses, and I hear her starting to come back my way, moving with more purpose now, I realise. I gotta move … I try to scramble now, and my arms almost give out under me while my knees still seem to hold, so I come bloody close to ploughing myself into the dirt face first … shit!
Then she suddenly seems to stumble, at the same time that I hear a low, angry snarl that I can’t help recognising, and I have to look up as I hear her stumble around while there are sounds of frantic struggling, and I already know what I’ll see … Brung’s come out of hiding and rushed her, jumping on her back and now she’s stumbling about while he claws at her. They’re both growling and cursing and neither of ‘em are really getting the upper hand it’s such a mess all of a sudden. And now I got a break …
Determined not to waste the opportunity, I grit my teeth and try scrambling faster, getting my feet under me this time and not so much stumbling to the axe as mostly just falling down right next to it, somehow managing to snatch it up as I roll onto my back. I keep going, and sort of manage to stumble up onto my feet on the other side, dragging the axe up after me as I stagger in a very wide circle backwards across the open ground, my balance barely there now as I damn near just fall on my back again. Oh fuck, I’m a totally bloody mess right now. I realise I never actually been smote before, and it’s safe for me to say I never wanna be again. This is horrible.
For a long moment I’m teetering, having to wheel my arms as I fight for balance, most o’ my weight on my heels as I’m in severe danger of tipping backwards after all … then I finally settle, and I just freeze, arms stretched out for several more beats, waiting and hoping that I’m finally good. Then I just double over and start heaving in great lungfuls of air, gasping and wheezing against the stiff, sharp burning pain in my ribs from the hit. Gods … I still ain’t great here. But I’m on my feet, at least. Slowly I start to straighten up, and register the fight again.
As I look up the cleric throws him off, but Brung just springs right back up off the ground without even bouncing and just charges at her, dodging with startlingly deft speed as she tries to swing her sword at him and just bites empty air and dirt. The blade don’t stick, though, it just carves clean through in a deep gouge and then she draws it out the other side, turning her stumble into a dance that manages to miss a leaping lunge from the goblin, who just goes sprawling. Only to spring right back up again and pound at her on all fours, still snarling.
It's been a while since I saw Brung this mad, he’s genuinely worked up, I can tell. Maybe it was seeing me threatened and alone, and clearly beaten on the ground, entirely at my attacker’s mercy, that was enough. Last time saw him actually lose his temper he shredded ten men with nothing but claws and teeth. The fact this girl’s still standing tells me she’s got some impressive skill of her own.
This time when he leaps at her she don’t bother trying anything fancy, she just sidesteps and then throws out her arm in a sharp, fast whip, backhanding him in the air and sending him spinning away. This time he really does bounce, and he curses all the way, I’m sure of it even though it’s in that weird chittering goblin language he always uses when he really swears. The cleric just growls under her breath, and I can see her robes have been somewhat torn and shredded, although it don’t look like he managed to actually draw any blood. But she’s pissed all the same, ready to follow through while he’s still down.
I can’t let that happen, so I charge her myself … or I try to, anyway. Mostly I just stumble forward, almost landing flat on my face but somehow managing to find my feet well enough to turn it into a very clumsy drunkard’s run. I try my best to aim my path and don’t bother with any fancy moves, I just bear down on her the best I can and then swing a wild haymaker at her once I’m close enough.
She see me coming, but by then it’s too late for her to stop me, an’ I don’t reckon I could stop myself if I tried. She manages to sidestep the axe itself, but I’m still bum-rushing her, so I still manage to just plough into her in a careening stumble and it’s low enough that I sweep her legs out from under her.
As I go down and do my best to turn the fall into a roll, I feel her flip right over my back and go down hard behind me, letting out a winded whoop as the air’s knocked out of her. This time it don’t hurt all that much when I bounce, and I land on the other side with my knees under me and I don’t feel like I’m about to fall over this time, so I just react accordingly. Thanking Thorin I still got the axe I get one foot under me and lunge at her, this time swinging high and bringing my axe down hard on top of her while she’s still working on pushing herself up.
There’s another great clang as our blades meet, she’s still too quick or just too alert for me to quite catch her this time, but this time there’s no great sparking flash, no fizzing noise, her sword’s cold and quiet in her hands. Guess she didn’t have time to recharge while we were floundering, then. I reel back, this time thankful there’s no real jarring from the hit, and she rolls backwards too, finding her own feet and ducking into a low guard with her sword gripped at the ready between us. Easily long enough to keep us apart …
Brung rushes her now, I catch a flash of his dark form through the corner of my eye, but I’m just a beat late realising I’m giving him away too, she ducks away from him as he tries to leap onto her again. As he goes sailing past she starts to swing her sword up, and I just know she’s intent on cutting him in half while he’s flying past, and I can’t allow that.
I swat the sword away with a more subdued ping and follow through by just jumping on top of her before she can right herself, ditching the axe now as I just start throwing punches. Reckon whatever patience I had left is gone now, the fact she tried to kill my friend’s soured it. As it is my first punch connects with a satisfying meaty thud and I follow through the best I can, but as I send her reeling back it manages to foul my aim instead so the next hit goes wide. In the end we just go down together again, sprawling in a flailing tangle.
“Oh gods, you … fuck!” she snarls as she tries to bat me away, but she clearly ain’t so comfortable at hand-to-hand. “Get off me!”
She manages to get a clumsy hit through my defences as we scrabble in the dirt, the heel of one of hand catching me just under my eye, and my head snaps back from the surprising force of it, she’s a whole lot stronger than I would’ve thought. Or maybe that’s just cuz she’s a cleric, it’s the strength of Corvina or something. It hurts, a genuinely stunning hit, and I find myself clumsily reeling back. I manage to get my own lucky hit in almost entirely by accident, managing to clip an elbow across her own face that likely bloodies her nose, I can’t quite tell, then I tumble to the ground and my head’s spinning again.
When I land it’s a tiny miracle I’m actually still facing the right way so I’m able to see her as she struggles up onto hands and knees, slowly reaching up to wipe her nose the best she can with the leather inside her bracer. Looks like I was right, her nose is good an’ broke, blood pouring out of it, and she’s got quite the hot look because of it.
When she grabs hold of her sword and starts to drag it up she’s still looking at me, like she’s planning on genuinely murdering me now, and it’s sobering enough to clear my head all on its own. I roll over and manage to get myself sitting up, and quickly cast about searching for my axe. Shit … I can’t see it. What the fuck was I thinking throwing it away like that?
This time when Brung jumps on her he takes her more by surprise, so when she swings her sword the angle’s wrong and it hits him broadside with the flat of the blade. Even so, it’s a forceful hit and he goes flying, I see him spinning off while she turns to watch him go in somewhat dumbfounded surprise, and it’s enough to finally put the spur in me proper. I forget about my battleaxe and just shove myself up, starting a fresh charge before I even got real footing.
It's a stumble instead of a rush, but I’ve put some force into it so I come at a full, low run, and I’m clawing the axe out of its loop on my right hip around the same time I start twisting, winding up to chop her down before she can stand. I bring my other arm up almost as an afterthought, but it feels right, maybe I can drive it right down into her, kill her with a single stroke if I hit hard enough.
Except that she’s already turning back as I’m coming, and I got no way of stopping myself now, I got too much momentum and there’s no real distance between us. I don’t think she even brings her sword to bear with any real thought, she’s just shifting in place as she starts to react, and it’s just in the right place in the moment. Or maybe the very worst place, depending on who’s counting …
The only time I ever actually been stabbed, it was back in Hedesh, when I was a super dumb moron of a kid who hadn’t really learned to fight yet. I’d barely been on the streets for three months, and a few bigger street kids were trying to take the leftovers I’d just managed to beg off a market stall from me. I was having none of it, even when one of ‘em pulled a knife on me, I just puffed up and tried to bluff my way through. Maybe I just didn’t think he’d really follow through with the threat. If I hadn’t been found by a cleric of Helios that would’ve been it for Thelgaewynn Frostforge.
Mostly what stuck in my head from it was the pain. Focused, and very hot, like my guts were on fire and I didn’t think I could survive that, never mind the actual damage itself. This is so much worse, though. And the blade ain’t even hot, I realise.
It’s like a white hot searing sliver of something driven right through me, and what armour I’m wearing don’t do shit against it. I just keep sliding onto the blade, deeper, it goes right through me and I don’t stop until I hit the narrow guard. By this point my legs have long since given out under me, I’m down on my knees and the only thing that’s actually holding me up now is her, she’s still holding the sword and looking me in the face. She looks more horrified than I must do. It’s almost funny.
“Oh … oh fuck … no … no, I didn’t …” She starts to babble, suddenly struck rigid as she gawks down at her sword run right through me, and when I look down I can see the blood coming outta me now, and it looks like a lot even with the blade plugging the hole. “No, no no … I’m sorry, I didn’t –”
“Thel!” Du’s voice sounds like it’s a thousand miles away from me, or maybe it’s just cuz I’m starting to hear a rushing noise, it’s just starting to take over, like high pressure in my ears maybe, I dunno. Suddenly I feel very heavy.
The half-hob jumps at the call, and it gives me a jolt too cuz I’m essentially attached to her now, her eyes flickering to the right where he’s likely coming now … just as another of those strange unseen doorways opens and someone else is here. It’s some human, a tall, sandy haired young man but not that good looking, a bit weaselly if I’m honest, somewhat sallow in the face and looking decidedly under the weather now. He’s dressed like some ridiculous dandy from Tabaphic, I notice, all burnt umber wool and quilted red leather, like some small child’s interpretation of a mage drawn in too many primary colours. For a beat I find myself wondering who the hell this is, but then I remember I never actually got a look at their wizard before …
For a moment he exchanges words with the half-hob, who seems too rattled to really respond very coherently, she’s unable to take her eyes off my bleeding midsection and her blade rammed right through it. I can’t make out what they’re saying, the roar in my ears has completely drowned everything else out now. Meanwhile out the corner of my eye I catch sight of Brung, up once again even though he looks a bit battered now, scrambling back to us.
Finally the wizard just spits something, looking like he’s had enough now, and takes hold of the cleric, who only now starts to come back to herself enough she looks like she wants to protest … then he says something that I feel and they’re both gone with another of those strange optical illusions displacing the air around me and suddenly I’m just released. And I feel something burst inside me …
Guess the blade really was mostly plugging the hole, because when I drop onto my back now a great splash of my own blood spurts all over me, enough that it hits me right in the face. Oh fuck … it’s just gushing outta me now, I can feel it, my head’s getting light already. The blinding, searing pain’s still there though, cut right through me, and I could really do without that. I press my hands to the wound the best I can but it feels horribly big to my probing fingers right now, and it hurts even worse trying to apply pressure right now, even if wasn’t bleeding right out my back too.
Brung drops to his knees at my side a moment later and his eyes are wider than I ever saw ‘em before, his open mouth giving him a strangely uncertain look. I never saw this expression before, I genuinely didn’t know he could even make it … fuck me, he’s scared, not for himself but for me. He starts to reach out for the wound but stops himself. When he looks at my face he takes a few beats to find his voice, but even when he finally starts talking I can’t hear him, the rushing sound’s worse while my head’s swimming like crazy. Oh fuck, I really am dying …
“I’m … Brung, I think … I’m not … oh, this is strange … um …” I can’t even hear myself speaking, at best all I hear is some kind of muffled empty … something …
After a moment or two of searching I finally spot Du, but he’s still far across the yard, looks like he’s crawling across the ground towards me, dragging himself along with one arm while he holds the other hand to his bleeding side. Oh, that can’t be good, might just be neither of us are gonna survive the night …
“Du … Thorin, reckon we’re both fucked …” I try reaching out to him but my hand just flops vaguely in his direction, I got no real control over it now.
After a moment I catch sight of movement from somewhere beyond him, a dull red glow slowly approaching I’m having trouble focusing on now, reckon my eyesight’s starting to fail me. I’m only vaguely aware of Brung starting to clutch at me with more earnestness now, likely trying to tend to my wounds, and I can sort of hear muffled sounds, both close by from him, and further off from where Du must be, that suggest they’re both calling for help. Then the glow starts to resolve itself and I blink, which clears it up some, and I finally recognise it’s two blazing red coals moving in the darkness, which means it’s Driver 8. Of course. From what I learned so far ‘bout what he can do makes sense he’d be the one to find us.
The golem ain’t alone, either, I can see more vague shapes moving round him, some slipping past to rush towards us now. Some o’ the others arriving. I wonder if Krakka’s one of ‘em. And I wonder if he even can do something to help me right now …
Given that half-hob was a cleric of the Raven Queen, Goddess of Death … somehow I reckon getting run through with her sword ain’t good news …
Last thing I really register is someone else skidding to their knees at my side and essentially shoving Brung out the way, strong hands starting to work at my wounds with more accomplished hands, and I realise they’re human … oh, it’s Kesla. Okay … I didn’t know she knew anything about medicine. As I finally black out I realise I keep learning new things about that woman.