The ground trembled and shuddered under the might of the approaching battle, shaking Tim out of his bored stupor. The odd mixture of people that hid in the underbrush with him, a tense combination of Blinders members and Mavier’s demons, whispered with concern and interest as gradually, all three of the battling heroes came into view. First came Mavier, holding a fighting retreat and doing remarkably well, given the numbers disadvantage on his side. Or at least, Tim thought so. It was a bit too bright to see everything that was going on with all the magic involved. No sooner would the watchers catch a glimpse of Mavier whipping around to parry a blade, and then have their vision obscured by blinding lightning or the splash of a fireball. Yet quietly Tim thought the demon looked wearied, though his blade never slowed.
Right behind the demon was the cleric hero, Elena. Despite missing an arm and being covered in visible injuries, she still pressed the attack. Finally, a little bit further away, walked Kevin, steadfastly advancing and lazily throwing magical projectiles towards the duo in front of him.
Some inhaled sharply in the bushes. “Hold still lads. Don’t be giving away the surprise.” Tim said in a hushed and slightly annoyed tone. The gang members grouped around him gave shaky nods, but stilled their bodies and breathing as much as they could.
Almost there… Tim briefly tore his eyes away from the battle and made eye contact with the demon sent to aid him. He raised his hand, and as Mavier kicked away Elena, casually breaking open the gates to the Bastille with a flurry of palm strikes at the same time, his hand dropped. The signal to begin.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Almost as long as she could remember, Santet had trained herself in the hopes of being one of the chosen. One of the brave warriors fit to follow Lord Mavier in his crusade against the so-called heroes that had taken everything from them. She partook in the oath. She climbed mountains and challenged whoever, or whatever, she could in combat to gain experience. And, when she had finally been chosen by her lord to follow, she completed the oath. After all, what use was her old name if she couldn’t use it to better her people? What use where old memories when her entire race worked together for a single goal? So, she left it all behind. Still, Lord Mavier showed her the kindness that had been granted to all of his followers. A name.
Santet.
It was strange, truly strange. That after she had left behind everything but her skills for the betterment of her race, that a name given to her could mean so much. But still, it did. She was not the only one, either. The brothers and sisters in arms she had talked to all shared the same experience. A name, given out of kindness, by the only one left alive who had directly fought by the side of their fallen king.
And thus, they had followed Lord Mavier with a feeling of commitment that never failed. Even when familiar faces were taken from them, and unfamiliar faces replaced them, that one burning purpose united them all. So, when a strange alliance was created between their group, and a rat-controlling madman, they still followed. Lord Mavier commanded them to assist in the plan that had been forged between their lord, the half-elf, and Dimitre, one of the bravest of them all. They had begrudgingly left their lord alone to fight against two heroes at once. And now, as Tim made eye contact with Santet, and signaled her with a drop of his hand, she did not hesitate.
She gritted her teeth, tearing her eyes away from the battle, suppressing her instincts to aid the one who had given her a name. She swiftly rose to her feet, and darted towards the dwarf, Bert, with all the speed she could muster while staying as low as she could.
And she whispered the words that could very well kill her lord if he wasn’t fast enough to get clear.
“Dwarf, it’s time. Light the fuse.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Kevin watched as Elena and Mavier approached the Bastille. He gained ground and continued to watch as Elena was blasted away by a vicious kick. He gained more ground and silently began to prepare more lightning spears as the demon broke open the gates with only a few strikes, dashing into the Bastille and temporarily out of Kevin’s sight.
Stolen story; please report.
“Damnit! Elena! Circle around, make sure he isn’t slipping out a side gate. I’ll enter and make sure that fucker goes down.” Kevin didn’t know why the demon had fled into the fortress, but one thing was for sure. It was one hell of a bad idea from Mavier to back himself into a corner like that. While walls could be scaled, there was still a small garrison inside that could assist, and it was rather hard to scale a wall while dodging magic.
With those encouraging thoughts in his head, Kevin simply ignored the indignant protests from Elena and brushed past the gates.
“Fine, you bastard! Just wait till we get back to the city!” Elena shouted back at him as she reluctantly began to circle around the walls.
A smug grin briefly flashed across Kevin’s face as his hands wrapped around a crackling spear of lightning. With Elena circling around back, and Kevin coming through the front, this demon was trapped like a fly in a jar.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Tim’s eyes snapped back to the Bastille with a laser focus as the demon took off running. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, and not even the simple comfort of holding one of the sarin gas canisters near his feet could mitigate it. He watched as the heroes paused for a few seconds outside of the gates, and after yelling at each other, Kevin entered the fortress while Elena circled around the side.
He hoped there would be enough explosive force to take her out even if Elena didn’t enter the fortress.
A few more seconds passed, and Tim barely registered the return of the demon he sent to start Bert’s side of the operation. Instead, the pupils in his eyes shrunk as a bright flash of lightning and fire shot out into the sky above the Bastille, almost making him miss the figure of Mavier hurling himself out of the back gate.
Silence followed, only broken by a shout of anger.
And then, the stones trembled.
Tim could see the very stones making up the walls of the fortress bend.
The earth moved, and those still outside turned to run in terror. Tim, still watching, was blinded by the colossal flash of light coming from the Bastille.
The demon shouted something unintelligible as she began to drag Tim backwards, to safety. Only, he couldn’t make out the words. There was just too much noise. It was almost like the world was trapped in honey, wading through a pool of molasses. Tim watched with surprise as a massive stone, probably from the fortress, slowly crashed past where his head was earlier.
Then, what felt like an unstoppable force, a hammer wielded by the very heroes themselves, collided with Tim’s entire body. The earth and the sky switched places, and then switched again and again. His body soon came to a halt, his neck in an awkward position and his face forced into the dirt.
Several second passed, and the world was silent. Everything was silent, except the faint ringing that he just couldn’t shake from his ears. A hand shook his arm, and Tim wrenched his head out of the dirt to see the demon and one of the Blinders members, each sporting numerous gashes and scrapes, tugging at his arm with what seemed like almost a lost or confused expression. Their mouths formed shapes, but all he could hear was that incessant ringing sound.
Ahh. It was going to drive him mad. The ringing noise. Tim shakily propped himself from his awkward position with his free hand, heaving himself up against a tree stump, ignoring the jagged wood on top of it. He didn’t remember that stump being there before, but it mattered not. The ringing did. Tim ignored his companions, bringing his hands up to his ears. They felt… wet. In fact, as his hands travelled around his face and the rest of his body, he kept running into that wet feeling.
How odd.
At least, until Tim observed his hands. It was if they were covered in red paint.
That would explain a lot. Still, the ringing was beginning to fade. A blessing from the very heavens.
Tim took the offered hand of the demon and heaved himself to his feet.
“Any casualties?” Tim muttered through the blood and saliva that coated his mouth, his tongue exploring a lose tooth near the back. Damn. He liked his teeth.
“Hard to tell, boss.” The gangster beside him answered with a shaky voice. “Just what the hell was that?”
Tim glanced towards the fortress. Or, what was left of it. Nothing but a smoking ruin. He looked back to the demon and nodded. “That was our alliance working. Now, how many of you can move? We need to search the ruins to make sure they’re dead and scatter before reinforcements come.”
The gangster moved to check the rest of the groaning lumps on the ground, and Tim turned his focus back onto the ruins. He shivered, hands crossing together. It’s rather cold. Strange.
Over the fortress, the smoke gradually moved away as the breeze did Mother Nature’s good work, allowing the confusion of the explosion to end and be replaced by the melancholy that strikes the soul in the aftereffects of sudden, violent destruction.
Melancholy, which was quickly followed by wonder, and then dread as the smoke cleared. Wonder, that something as beautiful as a cracked and splintered flower of ice, still in the middle of bloom, had appeared in the center of the ruins.
Dread, as the petals of the distant flower cracked, falling to reveal the faint form of a hero.
Tim’s heart began to quicken, thudding against his ribcage as he leaped for one of the canisters they had sheltered behind the trees, still protected by the sturdy stumps as the upper halves had been snapped like toothpicks.