Fuck, this shit’s going south fast. I don’t even bother to stand as I just throw myself forward, diving headfirst through the gap between the closest balustrades. I twist in the air as I start to drop, and I roll forward as my feet hit the ground, taking the jolt out of the landing before the momentum can snap my ankles. I’m already drawing my new sword as I start to come up on the other side of it, and I start dashing forward immediately, slipping the corresponding long knife out as I close the distance on one of the newest arrivals.
Through the corner of my eyes and the edges of my awareness I take in what’s going on around me – Kesla’s still battling away with that creepy pale bitch, the one I imagine to be Vandryss, the one we been seeking. She’s good, clearly, Kesla’s keeping up with her but I can see she’s using every trick she can think of to keep from getting overwhelmed. Seeing that’s almost enough to make me break off my intended attack and rush to her aid, but I know if I do there’s a danger we could be overwhelmed by this sudden influx of new enemies.
Gael’s jumped into the fray, I see, setting about with her staff, and I just catch sight of her whipping the feet out from under one of ‘em as I go in for my own attack. Motion on the other side causes me inward alarm, but I realise it’s Dumoli joining the fight, swinging his massive hammer while charging in with a great bellow. Thel’s close on his heels, her battleaxe clutched low but ready as she runs, and there’s a look of pure murder in her eyes.
My intended target registers what’s coming in the final moments and they turn to intercept me, their shortsword already out as they’re trying to palm a handaxe free from their belt. They give up as I close in and take a stab at me instead, but I duck aside and swing my knife at the same moment to turn their sword aside, and they’re still trying to recover, eyes going wide, when I ram three quarters of Shay’s former longsword through their chest. I extend as far as I can on the lunge and they buckle with it, so when I whip it back quick to withdraw the blade again they’re already falling.
Ain’t the first time I used my new sword in anger, it already served me well yesterday in the Round, but I’m only now starting to really appreciate this weapon’s superior killing power compared to my old one, before it was broken. It’s got four inches more reach than that blade, and while it’s also heavier it’s not much more of a handful, I’ve taken great care to adjust to it in the weeks since Shay gave it to me to replace my old one. It’s still a light, slender blade, ideal for swift cut-and-thrust such as I been trained for, and it hasn’t taken me long to perfect its use. In a way it’s actually better than my old sword …
As they crumple I round on my next opponent, who I realise has already sensed the threat and they’re pre-emptively coming at me. I jump aside so the downward swing of their handaxe misses me by bare inches, and as I spin past them I sweep my sword across, aiming for their neck. They dodge in time and my blade whips harmlessly over their head, but their movement is desperate enough they don’t have a chance to attack me before I finish my recovery. Instead they jump back two big steps and hunker low, their shortsword held out in front of them to dissuade me from making another attack too soon. A cannier fighter than the last then.
Taking a breath, I look ‘em over, keeping my blades held out at my sides as I weigh the options. I get the feeling they’re doing the same, dark eyes studying me the best they can in the dim light. They’re about of a size with me, lean and wiry, and I suspect they’re good and flexible too, but they’re human … might be enough, that. I cock my head as I look out from under my hood, and while they follow the motion they don’t quite meet my eyes. They can’t see me any better than Kesla’d be able to without her fancy goggles …
So I feint right, and they react to the movement, so I know I got ‘em as I twist at the last while I whip my sword up, and splash the water that’s been accumulating on my previously flat, still blade into their eyes. They hiss as they stumble back, and while they’re not exactly blinded I don’t need more than a split-second’s distraction right now. I sweep in on their blindside as they shake their head, and by the time they’ve blinked their eyes clear enough they’re too late realising I already got ‘em because I’m ramming a full foot of steel up under their arm. They stiffen instantly, drawn up to their full height for a moment even as their legs give out and they start to topple sideways, and I’m already whipping the blade away after a little twist to open the wound a little more. Dancing away on fleet feet.
Another portal seems to open from outta nowhere over the other end of the courtyard, and this time it’s to a dozen of them all drop out at once, all already drawn when their feet touch down. Shit! What was that Gael said about it probably not being a warlock this time? Then a great hulking shape lumbers past me, already dropping to all fours as they start to charge at the group while they’re still orienting themselves, and people throw themselves out the way best they can to avoid getting trampled as Big Man goes for the newcomers. The ones lucky enough to spot him coming scatter the best they can, shouting a warning to the rest, but those who aren’t quick enough just start screaming, only to stop quick enough again once he starts laying into ‘em … fuck, this is turning into chaos already.
Then I catch another momentary flash upstairs, somewhere in the right hand corner back towards the front entrance, and I realise another portal’s opened up there too. More coming. Damn it, whoever that wizard is, she’s more on the ball than we expected. Is she here? Or is she just directing all this remotely? I cast about while I still have an opportunity, but between the rain, the foliage and the sheer chaos going on around me I can’t tell much of anything.
Another hood seems to get themselves together enough to see me close by and I’m barely quick enough to react as they charge me, so their longsword misses me by an inch as I skip aside. They’re a good deal bigger than me, a lot more solid, and I see amber eyes starting to darken to red under their hood so I realise this one’s another half-orc. Okay, he’s definitely got me way outmatched in strength, so I better be faster instead.
He recovers quickly from the near miss and I’m still righting myself as he turns again. He tightens, low, sword gripped in both hands and cocked up towards me as he squares his shoulders, taking a breath. I edge back a step and extend my sword arm, pointing to his face in a cautious, ready ward, and set my jaw as I breathe in through my nose. He blinks, quick, and I lunge as I see his eyelids shift. He moves as I do, turning my sword aside as I charge.
If I’d intended to hit him with that thrust he might’ve fouled me, but instead I flick my sword as he turns it and instead I catch him across the back of his right hand as I’m dancing past him. He snarls a curse and pulls away as if he can escape the pain, but that simply opens him up for a split, which is all I need to pull in close on his side. I take a risk and my boldness barely rewards me so I can ram the length of my long knife through the side of his hood.
It's not a perfect target, if I wanted to puncture his throat like I prefer I’d run a good chance of missing since I can’t make it out through the wet black wool of his hood, so instead I aim for what would be the centre of that mass, hoping I don’t foul the blade on their thick jawbone. Instead I meet the barest resistance past the hood, something that pops and gives way easy enough, so I just jammed the knife through his ear. He lets out a winded rattling sound as I keep pushing and there’s a moment of greater resistance before I manage to shove it the rest of the way through to the hilt, which I suspect is the skull on the other side yielding to my strength … I can’t help shuddering as he just starts to sag, that weird, discomfiting death rattle wheezing out as I yank the blade free again and the body just drops, and I realise that’s a sound’s gonna be with me for a while.
For that long moment I’m so focused that I almost miss another one rushing me on my left, I’m starting to react when they suddenly go flying at a completely oblique angle as a flash of something bright blue strikes ‘em in the side. They tumble through the air like a ragdoll and I almost go down as I wheel round, half of me wondering what the hell just happened while the rest realises I almost got killed. Then Gael comes running up as the crystal in the tip of their staff blinks out dull again, and I make the connection. Their look is a mixture of stricken panic and dawning relief.
“Art, you idiot! Get it together!”
“It’s a bit fucking crazy out here right now, ain’t you noticed? That’s kind of a tall order!” I don’t mean to snap so hard, but I doubt they even notice. “And thank you. Of course.”
“What the hell are we doing?” They’re gripping their staff tight in both hands, holding it close to their breast as they cast about, looking at the shambled excuse for a skirmish that’s unfolding around us. “Do we even have a plan now?”
“Gods, I don’t fucking know …” I see Kesla still locked in mortal combat with Vandryss, the two of them currently prowling in a circle around each other, swords held low and very ready, seeking out an advantage or rethinking their tactics, I really have no idea. In truth I’m amazed they’ve fought this long without one of them gaining the upper hand, they’re clearly so well matched.
Tulen’s fighting with a sword, which takes me a little by surprise. As I watch her she cuts one of the shadows converging on her down with an impressive sidestroke that has them stumbling back as they fight to keep their guts from spilling out. Then she rounds on another as they try to press an advantage while they think her distracted, parrying the stroke of their lunging shortsword before ducking under the reactive hack of their offhand axe and cutting them upwards from the side. I find myself straightening up as I watch her move, it’s incredible to watch. “Bloody hell …”
“What … oh, yes, well Tulen always was a lot better at that stuff than I was in the Academy.”
Blinking at her words, I tear my attention off her and look the other way, spotting Thel and Dumoli fighting back to back as another half dozen hoods attempt to swarm them. He’s smashing them down as soon as they get close, though, the way he swings that hammer almost makes it seem like he’s just holding on and letting momentum do its work but somehow he’s managing to keep his feet planted while he does it. Thel, meanwhile, cuts two down at once with three impossibly deft moves that actually make my jaw drop, then locks up with a third before simply pushing them back and swinging her battleaxe overhead as they stumble back. The blade catches ‘em right between the eyes while they fight to right themselves.
“Okay, so … what do you wanna do, then?” I venture after a moment.
“Well I … I don’t … um …” They cast about again, still seeming rattled. I can’t blame ‘em, there’s too much going on at once in here.
Another two come charging towards us and I push Gael aside before they’re impaled on the outstretched longsword, which I batter down hard with my long knife before jamming the sword through the front of the attacker’s throat before they can check their momentum. They stumble immediately and I try to pull the sword free but it’s stuck a little too tight and their feet suddenly start to skid out from under them on the soaked turf, and as they go down it wrenches my wrist hard. I choke back a yell as I’m forced to let go of the sword before it breaks my arm, and then the one behind ‘em closes the gap too fast and I realise I’m gonna get run through before I can recover enough to counter …
Then something slams into their back a little before they reach me and they twist awkwardly, fumbling their shortsword but at least retaining their axe as they stumble, and I don’t try anything fancy, I just roll aside. As I come up I twist, swapping my knife to my stronger hand as I turn to fight, only to see my would-be attacker skid down to one knee as they try to reach for the arrow sunk deep in the middle of their back with their empty right hand. Realising I got a moment spare to breathe I turn to the balcony again in time to see someone jump down from it, recognising Shay as she tosses Kesla’s bow aside in mid-air, already going for her sword as she lands and drops into a roll.
She ain’t alone either, more figures are jumping down behind her, black-clad all – five, no six … no, seven, although the last one crumbles before they can quite make the leap and instead they just fall over the railing, dropping limp over the side with two arrows through them. Shay saved my life before making her escape, but now she’s about to be surrounded again. Shit …
Wanting to end this fast, I step up to the fumbling hood as they try in vain to pull the arrow from their back, and before they quite realise what I’m doing I yank back their hood and cut their throat. As they look up at me while their hands go to try and stem the dark gush of red from the great gash, I realise they’re just a boy, human, downy blond attempt at a beard only visible because of the wet. Bright blue eyes that can’t quite focus in the gloom somehow still manage to find mine for a moment as they start to collapse, and I gotta look away when I realise the poor bastard’s even younger than I am.
“I won’t thank you for that one, you daft oaf.” Gael growls with clear annoyance, and I can see they’re somewhat muddied now, hefting their staff with white knuckles as they join me again. “That hurt.”
“Not half so much as a sword through the guts would’ve.” I growl right back, not in the mood for placation right now. I see more movement behind them now … no, not movement, it’s a flicker of something, but something less seen than not seen, and I recognise one of those weird portal spells opening and closing now. As two more new arrivals come into focus through the driving rain.
One’s a tall, slender figure in a long robe and deep hood, with an even taller, slightly twisted staff in one hand. A woman, and my mind immediately says mage, which means this is the hedge wizard, or Order stray, or warlock, whatever. The one we’ve been hearing about. Whoever she is, she sways for a moment, taking up a two-handed grip on her staff to steady herself as she wobbles after the landing, and the reason behind it makes sense to me immediately. She was clearly carrying quite a load with her on that jump.
Granzun is as intimidating a sight as I remember, maybe a little more scarred up but this just seems to add to his potency now. He’s as big and scary as I remember, certainly, almost as broad across the shoulders as he is tall, although it’s more down to the way he holds himself. He’s traded out his Guild suit, but the suit he wears now is no less impressive, a little more stylish but the same kind of well-fitted thick black leather plate, with his short cloak and hood sewn right into the shoulder-pieces. The little plaited beard’s new too, but I’m not too surprised seeing it, he always did have an inflated opinion of his own style.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
His sword may be lost now, but he’s certainly made up for it with more well-made steel that’s clearly come from his own personal collection. The battleaxe is new, heavy enough that most would need two hands for it but he hefts it comfortably just in his right, while he’s carrying a nasty looking mace in his left. It’s thick and heavy, the dark steel head bristling with big spikes, and I know full well that despite its crude appearance he can wield it deft as a sword, although it’ll do far uglier damage if he hits anyone with it …
“Shit …” I mutter under my breath but Gael picks up on it all the same, turning to follow my gaze. Her eyes widen, but less with shock than a certain dread recognition.
“Oh … that’s the orc.” She gives me a quick sidelong glance. “So … is that you friend?”
“Ain’t sure I can call ‘im that anymore.” I look round at the rest of … well, everything that’s going on right now, hoping for some kinda backup, but everybody’s busy right now. Damn it … this is down to us, then. Except … “Gael, I want you to go help Shay, yeah?”
“What?” They look at me like I’m crazy, and I don’t I blame ‘em. “Art, there’s no way I’m just backing off from this. That’s a Silver Order wizard over there, at least after a fashion, what are you going to do to her? I have to deal with her myself.”
“That big bastard ain’t gonna let you get close enough to try anything, Gael.” I try to fix her with the hardest stare I can, but it don’t feel any more convincing than I suspect it looks. “That’s a fight you won’t be able to win. And I don’t wanna see you get hurt. Not again.”
Gael just blinks at that, I suspect I managed to stump ‘em for a moment. I really should just break and make a charge for Gran and the wizard now, while I got ‘em flummoxed, but I can’t bring myself to leave as their expression starts to soften. They reach out, hesitant, bringing their hand close to my face, but stopping short. “Oh, Art … I …” Then their eyes lift, widening as they look past me to the new arrivals, and I turn fast to catch what they’re seeing.
The wizard raises both hands, staff held high in one, the crystal screwed into the top of it glowing such a bright white that everything around her’s lit starker than midday. I can almost make out a face under that deep hood now, ‘least enough to catch her lips moving as she says … something, I don’t hear anything but I feel it pass all the same, recognising it’s a spell the same time she throws her free hand forward towards the other end of the courtyard, and something seems to pass us by, something I can’t see. It’s heavy, though, suddenly we’re buffeted by what feels like a mighty wind and the grass in the path of this unseen force is torn aside in a great swathe. Right up to Driver 8.
Who’s hurled clean through the fucking AIR like he’s caught a speeding boulder from a trebuchet right in the chest. The force strikes him so hard I actually see it, like some massive bubble just bursts around him and all the rain that was falling around him just blasts off in all directions at once. I don’t see it actually inflict any damage on him, I suspect it’d take a whole lot more to so much as scratch that insane armour he’s essentially made of, but he still folds up as the force of … whatever it is hits him and he whips off like a tossed stone. For a blink he spins through the air, then he hits the front wall of the building and the ancient brick and mortar are no match for what’s hitting them as he leaves a fifteen foot hole in it. Not to mention a great cloud of dust that even this much rain can’t disperse.
“Fuck me, what …” All I can do is look at that hole in blatant shock, watching broken pieces of brick and shattered mortar fall away. The rational part of me’s partly just impressed the wall’s still standing after that, but mostly I’m just wondering exactly what that could actually have done to Big Man. I saw how fast and hard he was flying – even after hitting that wall I doubt he got slowed down much, he must have kept on flying a lot further than that …
“Down!” Hands shove me off my feet and I’m still so surprised I don’t even think about fighting it as I’m tossed to the ground. Something hot and bright sizzles over my head an instant later in the same moment that a fairly modest weight lands on top of me, and I feel ever one of my hairs suddenly stand up while it’s blazing over us. An instant later there’s a thunderclap and another, more localised bright flash as something explodes near the entrance, and then the air down there is full of splintering wood and fire that’s quickly snuffed in the rain. The weight shifts a beat after and I recognise Gael as much by their smell as anything else as they push off me, but keep crouched as low as they dare. “Stay down!” they hiss at me now, tone lower but still urgent.
I do as I’m told, only moving me head now as I turn it enough to look back in the direction of the wizard, the clear source of whatever the fuck that was. Gran’s still waiting at her side, and I get the impression now that he might actually only be here to protect her, make sure nobody else makes a play for her. So … that’s interesting. Might be something to that …
“Minerva …” Gael mutters as they peel off their gloves, stuffing ‘em in the first pocket they can find. “Mad bitch, using lightning in this kind of weather.”
Another flash somewhere off to the west lights everything up blinding for a moment and the thunderclap sounds almost right after, and I see the wizard lifting her staff again as the crystal starts to flare. Okay … “Gael, she’s doing something –”
“I see it.” they mutter as they spit across one hand and rubs ‘em together, their staff now stuck up in the turf. They weave out another sigil, fingers dancing fast, and it must be completed at the same time the wizard fires another lightning bolt at us because Gael pushes both hands through the sigil and then spreads them out wide. That same weird, translucent amber dome starts to spread out in front of us as she does it, and it forms just in time to catch the bolt.
The impact is loud as any of the thunderclaps that preceded it, and for a moment I almost think we’re both dead anyway, the heat is awesome and I almost bury my head under my arms. Only my curiosity stops me as I watch the bolt smash apart and crackle across the face of the dome, several new arcs lancing off and blasting in various different directions, most exploding with similar force when they strike whatever winds up in the way.
One of the hoods is unlucky enough to be in the way of one of these rogue branches, and for a moment I see him dance through the air, jerking with spasms as whatever this terrible, hot force is runs right through him. I never really understood lightning, or this strange scientific stuff I’ve heard rumours of called … I dunno, eclectic? All I do know is this stuff does spectacular amounts of damage to whatever it meets. Even so, when he seems to just … burst a moment or so later, like he’s just turned into a great cloud of gritty dust, that’s a little more than I really expected.
“Fuck …” I can’t help muttering it under my breath seeing it.
Gael lets out a winded grunt and I see them starting to waver just a little, but they’re gritting their teeth as they keep the dome up, and then the wizard cuts the bolt and they drop it at right after, sagging a little as the strain’s taken off. I scramble up now, putting my shoulder to their back to push them upright as I realise I’m somehow still holding my blades, and they shake their hands violently as if they’ve just been burned.
“Damn it … guess we gotta deal with this shit instead, then.”
“Didn’t you say the orc would –”
“Just port straight to the wizard soon as you’re clear. I’ll deal with Granzun.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice, and Gael turns to me now as they retrieve their staff, looking me in the eye, suddenly a good deal more concerned.
“What are you –”
I don’t give ‘em a chance to stop me, just walking forward with purpose as I shove the hood back from my head with the pommel of my knife. “GRANZUN!!! THAT YOU, YOU UGLY FUCKING CUNT?!!!”
Even in the relative dim and driving rain, my eyes are sharp enough I can make out those amber eyes clear enough as they turn my way, narrowing immediately. A frown creases his heavy, shelf-like brow as I approach, spreading my hands wide and my blades with ‘em, keeping my eyes locked on his now even though there’s so much going on around us. It takes a moment, but when recognition hits his eyes widen again and he straightens up a bit, taking a hesitant step forward before checking himself.
“Art?” I barely hear his mutter, but I got good ears. He steps back again, and now he’s almost shook. “It … can’t be … what the fuck are you doin’ here?”
“These are my friends, Gran! I want you to fuck off an’ leave ‘em alone!”
“What are you …” His face hardens now, shoulders tightening as he starts to lumber forward, still moving slowly, seeming unsure of himself but starting to resolve now. “I can’t do that. This ain’t your business, Art!”
“Fuck you it ain’t my business! I told you, these are my friends!! You need to leave here now, before it costs you!” I quicken my step, starting to tense up as I do it, and I tighten my grip on both my blades as I move.
Granzun doesn’t answer me this time, he just squares his shoulders and starts to rush me, his face tightening into a snarl as he lets out a clipped, controlled bellow. I simply break into a full run too as my answer.
We didn’t used to spar much, back in the day. Given how very different we both were in physicality, even when we were still growing, his sheer size always made it impossible for me to ever meet him on an equal footing in a fair fight. The first time we tried it he came close to killing me, it was only by virtue of my own speed and the careful watchfulness of our teachers that I escaped getting killed. After that, on the few occasions we ever matched up again I always tried to fight his unstoppable brawn through my own agility and quick thinking, and even then most of the time we’d come to an uncomfortable stalemate with no satisfied victor. I never really worked out the key to beating him, because while he’s powerful as his massive bulk suggests, he’s got impressive speed and he knows how to move, partly through the intense drilling of our teachers but mostly down to natural talent. But he never quite got a handle on my speed either, or the fact I could just move in ways he could never dream of doing.
Once I’m in range he doesn’t bother trying anything fancy, he just winds up the mace good and fast and brings it down with terrifying speed and so much sheer force I can hear it tearing through the air. And he ain’t shooting for where I am either – he’s going for where he judges I will be. By rights he should squash me like a bug right there.
Instead I’m gone, ducking sideways round the stroke and already aiming for the gap between his legs, winding up a thrust to ram deep into his crotch as I close the gap. Except he’s already caught on to what I’m doing, so I just stab thin air as he sidesteps and I keep going past him. I hear his grunt as he drags his mace free from the turf he’s just smashed it into, so I just throw myself forward as he swings it round after me, trailing a great swathe of torn muddy earth in its wake that barely misses me as I drop into a forward roll.
As I come up on the far side and see the wizard I realise how close I am now, and if I was less mindful of the threat right behind me I might even try for her anyway. Then that increasingly familiar poof of displaced air hits me in the face as Gael’s portal opens right in front of me, and it seems they were ready coming out the other side because they just blast the bitch before she has time to react. Except she’s got tricks of her own, although it’s something I seen Gael use a few times too, their force-blast just smashing apart ineffectually over some kind of invisible shield she must throw up purely by reflex.
After that I got no choice but to turn my back on this latest brewing fight, instead turning into another roll to the right that barely saves me from getting cut in half by Gran’s big battleaxe. I start to open ground between us the moment I’m up, dancing out in a rough circle around him while still seeking open ground behind me, and he doesn’t just charge right at me this time, instead coming after me at an angle as he starts to flank in the opposite direction. He's watching me with cold determination now, our few matches likely flashing through his mind now as much as they are my own, so he’s remembering how tricky I can be. I know him too well, I know he’s not stupid, he’s as smart as any other orc, and while he’s just as hot blooded he had years of training to teach him to counter his own temper and fight smart instead. Not to mention whatever murderous unpleasantness Yevnik drummed into him after …
“Just remember, I gave you a chance, you stubborn little shit.” His growl’s bitter, more regret than warning, but there’s still danger in his low rumble. “You could’ve just left.”
“Yeah? You just forgot what friendship means, you dumb thug. Otherwise you’d know I can’t abandon my friends.”
A dark shape surges out of the shadows behind him on the left, drawing a sharp line low across his side, checking him before he can go for me. If Granzun wasn’t even tougher than his thick leather plate that might’ve hurt him, but instead all the blade does is score a deep groove without ever meeting flesh and bring a deeper frown to the orc’s face.
Zuldrad turns at the end of his run, close on my left now, his right-hand dagger still cocked and ready as he inspects the damage. When he sees just how ineffectual his attack actually was he simply frowns, a little perturbed maybe, but nothing more. Certainly his voice is still calm and level as he simply mutters: “Damn. That went different than I expected.”
“What’d you expect?” I find myself growling back “It’s gonna take more’n that to even dent him.” Looking down at my sword and long knife, I see the rain’s essentially washed both clean of blood as I’ve been fighting. After a moment’s thought I give my sword a quick whip and then ram it home into its scabbard again with a single swift motion before it can get wet again, then do the same with the knife. They might not be the best fit for this fight as it is.
“What you thinking, then?” Zul gives me a quick sidelong glance, wary of taking his eyes off Granzun as he regards us both, slowly adjusting his grip on his weapons as he squares his shoulders and sets his feet. Mostly he looks fit to kill us both, but there’s a sliver in there, something that might still be a little reluctant. Like he’s remembering … well, us. He’s remembering who he was before Yevnik, before it all went to shit. When he still had us. The only family he’s ever know.
It's just a flicker, and he’s fighting it. But it’s there. It could be enough. I just wonder if I might actually be up to taking advantage of it …
Thing is, I really ain’t got a choice right now. As I watch him something just … goes off behind Granzun, something that makes him twitch a little but nothing more, despite the fact it makes the whole place shudder. It’s a loud cracking boom, accompanied by a great plume of bright blue smoke that bounces off the briefest flash of a big dome of aquamarine light. Gael and the wizard are hurling everything they got at each other, and I got no idea how that’s gonna go, which terrifies me. So I have to fight my friend, maybe kill him.
Reaching up between my shoulder-blades, I slip my new knives free. This is gonna be close and dirty work, so I need the best I got. “Stab, don’t try an’ cut. Wear ‘im down, go for the gaps. We gotta fight smart, not hard.”
When Zul growls this time, it’s just a wordless grunt, under his breath, he clearly ain’t too happy with this plan. I hate it too, but there’s no choice. He still tenses up, ready to spring, and I find myself doing the same. And Granzun sees us doing it, making him tense up too.
Then he stumbles to the side, twitching as he growls low, starts thrashing around, and it takes me a couple moments to work out why. Two tiny figures are scrambling over his massive form, or at least they’re definitely significantly smaller than he is, and they’re moving fast as they stab him with their blades. I’m another moment realising who it is that’s attacking him, though, until I catch a flash of bright yellow eyes and see one of them’s trying the best he can to jam his shortsword into Gran’s shoulder. It’s Brung, swinging savage, but the sudden, desperately wild thrashing of his target turns out to be enough to foul his aim, the sword barely managing to scrape a surface gouge across one of his pauldrons. The other’s Darwyn, trying her best with one of her knives while she’s desperately clinging to leather plates with her other hand, but it’s little better than beestings to an orc Gran’s size.
“What d’you wanna –”
I don’t give Zul a chance to finish, I just growl: “Just do what you can!” and charge. This is a fucking stupid idea but right now it’s the only one we got …