DarkRequiem
11-18-2006, 09:36 PM
He stood there, motionless. Her body felt so warm, so soft to the touch of his fingers as she grasped his hand and rubbed it against her small but round breasts. She sighed at his touch, a sigh of relief for finally being his, as if a dream comes true. His deep blue eyes darted along her pale body, inch by inch, memorizing every detail of it, every soft curve, the glint of satisfaction on her eyes, her breasts raising and falling as she breathe. Anticipation filled him; his eyes closed as she pressed her full red lips to his mouth, her tongue rubbing his own lips, making them part to allow the most moist and passionate kiss he had ever felt.
His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbing her nipples very softly as he felt them growing harder against his tantalizing touch. He gave himself to her lips, felt embraced by her arms and legs while her tongue probed his mouth in a frenetic pace. He couldn’t take it anymore, all her teasing… She was like a goddess to him, tempting him, inducing him to take her and to make her his. And so he did it. With a gentle movement of his pelvis he penetrated her sweet honeyed love nest and made her grasp against his mouth. Her eyes opened wide for just a second and then relaxed. He felt in a deep kind of ecstasy like he had never felt before: she was his at last!
Her moaning started to fill his ears: Adrius, Adrius, oh Adrius…
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“Adrius, wake up!!!
It is time for work, you lazy half-elf son of a mule!”
It was Gerome, his “employer” calling for him, Adrius Transis, a half-elf from Gazär, a small village from the interior lands of Nemesea.
He had moved out when the Blashyrkh came along and razed it. Adrius was still a child but he ran. He ran as much as he could, but that wasn’t enough and he was caught. The very same men who killed Rose and Gwenion, his human mother and elf father, caught him as he tried to run away and toyed with the young infant. In the end he was cut and severely bruised. The raven-men took him for dead and left him as food for the carrion crawlers. Still he lived. Oh, not only Adrius lived but also survived this first trial in his life. As he regained conscience he crawled away from such damned place in search for salvation and found (or was found, that’s not quite clear since he doesn’t remember the episode that well due to some high fevers that attacked his childish body and no one ever cared to fill in that blank for him) a merchant caravan. Gerome Chromion was the leader of the guarding party and he was the one who saved Adrius from Zetara’s grip. Gerome had become his second father and Gerome’s right hand, Zinthea Aruven, treated him as if she was his mother, even though she’s of barbarian blood. Some say that Gerome and Zinthea were lovers at a given point of their lives, but that’s nothing more than gossip and ill-talk.
Either way, Gerome’s employer was a healthy merchant from the northern lands, Igor Castri. Igor still relies on Gerome’s work from time to time, for he trusts very few guards and even fewer guards are able to deal with Igor’s egocentric demands. But the most important thing about Igor isn’t his wealth or his uncharacteristic behaviour. Well, it is, but not to Adrius. Or so he’d wish. In the very same day he got saved by Gerome he saw Ria Castri, Igor’s daughter. And what a delight it was for Adrius to meet such a beautiful creature. Although still young (he would be about eleven at the time, not more), he felt his face grow hot and his heart skip a beat. Through the rest of the time it took him to expel the fevers and recover completely almost everything he saw was that beautiful face beaming a radiant smile at him.
Now, fifteen years later he still loves her. More than anything else in the whole world, but he knows that he’ll can never have her: her father wouldn’t allow an orphan half-breed that composed songs of dubious quality as far as he cared and that gained his living by Gerome’s side whenever his services were needed to dispose his precious daughter. And so Adrius kept dreaming about his long forbidden love. Such were the ways of his life and he never told her about his feelings; she wouldn’t understand them, he believed.
“Adrius, do you hear me boy?!? They are coming!!!”
Promptly Adrius jumped on his feet, long sword on his right hand and a small wooden buckler – a buckler carved on the inside with small signs representing his village and his family, right next to his warm pale skin so that he could feel the power of his own origins right by his side, a buckler made of the woods that surround the ruins of Gazär – strapped to his left arm, giving way to a slender hand holding a small pointy dagger.
“Be ready, Adrius. The patrol guard said he counted sixteen of them. We’re outnumbered four to one. Hold on and stand fast. Let them not get into the inner circle of the encampment. Mr. Castri pays us well enough to avoid it, you know that!”
Adrius mind raced over. It was not his first battle and he knew all the guards were extremely well trained, all seasoned fighters and quite capable of dealing with this kind of threat. Zinthea was already on her defensive stance, Adrius knew it all too well. And even Arthix, the dwarf that had been working with Gerome for as long as Adrius could remember and maybe even longer than that had already his great axe outstripped and was ready to crack some heads open as if they were watermelons. Afteral, it was Arthix who signalled the oncoming party to Gerome for the attack started on his shift.
Oh, only if Greenleaf, the elven ranger was with them. But Adensen Greenleaf had stayed home this time, healing his injuries from their last work, a ten-day ago. And from Greenleaf his mind jumped back to Ria. She was there, with her father in the caravan. He would never let the woman he loved be chopped down by these foul beasts. No, if it depended on him he’d protect her to his last breath.
A flying arrow passed by from behind him. He knew Gerome had taken Greenleaf’s place in this battle and that it was his job along with Zinthea and the dwarf to cover Germoe and his deadly arrows – still not as deadly as Greenleaf’s, Adrius knew. It sank on an eye and a body felt backwards, impelled by the strength of the projectile. The creature died with a gurgling sound has its body convulsed in sick spasmodic movements.
“One down!” - cheered Gerome.
“Ya know there’r more of the foul beasts, Gerome!” – screamed Arthix as his thick yet short legs brought his body into full motion in a straight line ahead of him, his short but stocky arms swinging the silver axe (an axe that was almost the dwarve’s size) in half-arcs in front of him, reflecting the full-moon on the blade’s surface and leaving an odd trail of pale light in its wake. “And a’ll win this time, YA!”
The axe drawn a perfect arc right to left, downwards, finding the neck of another of the foul beasts and splitting it in two, rolling to the floor and coming to an alt by a rock’s side, looking upwards to the executioner. Later on Arthix would swear that he was so fast to kill it that it even gave him a final gaze from the floor before finally dying. Everyone knew Arthix for the good hearted oaf he was though.
Zinthea released a long war cry, the cry of her clan for their patron, Korwythe Bundriell, a cry that would invigorate her body and allow her soul to escape to her own battle plain. “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Then Zinthea ran about 20m at full stride and leaped into the air, twitching her body as she sank her blade turning a terrified living creature into a fast falling corpse. With only a movement of her powerful arm she cleaved the body and pulled her sword closer to her body, standing on a defensive stance as she looked around, evaluating their position.
In no time the defenders had killed three of the attackers and hadn’t suffered a scratch yet. Adrius looked around and started singing a fast paced song, letting it build in his throat and rolling out of his tongue as he moved purposefully towards a small group of three attackers, feeling his body charging up with the energy retrieved from his song. He knew that his companions felt the same way.
Yet, they weren't the only ones on the move and Adrius's three targets understood quite well his intentions. So, they moved too. One of them throwing a small stone axe at him which he easily dodged by quickly stepping to his right. Still such move made him loose his stance and bringing him closer to another enemy and earning him a sword stab to his right arm as he got circled by his opponents; the one who’d thrown him the axe now unsheathing a small sword.
Adrius grunted at the stab but didn’t loose his concentration and while regaining his composure just in time to deflect a long stone tipped spear with his buckler which reverberated in his arm. Adrius almost felt. Yet, another shot well aimed from Gerome got one of his attackers, the one wielding the short sword out of commission, putting an arrow on the creature’s gut. It was enough to distract the other two and give an opening to Adrius to recover himself and fend off the attackers with a well aimed bump of his buckler against the spear’s tip and by twitching his arm while he walker closer to the villain, to use his dark bladed dagger - given to him by the elf when he became a man or so Greenleaf had told him – to work on the brutish neck, biting deep and releasing a warm spray of blood that splattered against Adrius face. The fluid stang his eyes, but that was the lesser of his problems: he had turned his back against the last of his opponents who had now a clear path and would surely be running to deliver the killing blow to the half-elf. Adrius turned on his back while stepping backwards as he tried to put as much distance between himself and his attacker as possible. He brought his sword to a high defensive stance, ready to protect against any blow towards his head or chest. Such blow never came. He could not see his third attacker. His plan to try a manoeuvre he trained so restlessly in the training grounds of any city where the party ever stopped never came. He couldn’t cleave through all his opponents with just one struck. It had worked perfectly against the combat dummies but those were easy targets that didn’t move, didn’t offer any resistance to his sword and didn’t retaliate. He wanted to see how good it would work on a living creature. But in front of him only a pile of gore stood.
“Ah, Arthix! You’re too fast for an old scoundrel…” he said when his mind registered the connection between the pile of gore, the blood splattered against several trees and stones on the floor and the dwarves love for disembowelling his opponents. Thing is that the dwarf was kneeling to the ground and hunched in visible pain. The barbarian woman lurked behind him with her almost 7’, long raven black hair and red armour that partially covered her slender form, fending off several attackers who tried to finish off the little old dwarf. Adrius tried to run to help her but his path was cut down by a sizzling arrow that flew by him at great speed and struck a near tree.
Gerome couldn’t get a clear shot against any of the enemies and the party was in danger, so he released his short bow and grabbed his curious pair of long swords: two long swords, one with white blade that was said to freeze anything it touched at the wielder’s will and another almost unsubstantial, as if made of slick oil and shadows. Gerome jumped down the tree’s branch where he stood while Adrius jumped for cover behind a tree. Another arrow missed him, getting struck against the tree that hid him.
The female screamed again, fending off every attack and cutting a few wooden spears in half with her powerful sword swinging. She hadn’t score another hit yet but almost every of her five attackers were disarmed now; almost every one of them but a burly humanoid with red eyes as dark as blood who attacked her again and again with a pair of fine crafted kukris, most probably lost to him by some other adventure who hadn’t had any luck when ambushed by these creatures. Zinthea slammed her closed fist against its face and the small creature who didn’t measure more than 5’ staggered back. She was on it, sliding her sword between its ribs, killing it. Still, her exposed leg was bitten by the kukri as the opponent released its final breath. The cut wasn’t deep but the kukri must have been poisonous since the huge woman felt her strength growing dimmer and lost balance. Still, her will was ironlike and she fought the poison on her system as she gathered here strength to avoid the other four creatures that even without weapons were quite aggressive now that she was down. They bit and punched and kicked. She endured it and by the time Gerome got there to help her all the four attackers were down, same as Zinthea who was now breathing heavily and quite bruised.
Arthix was recomposing himself. His hands clutched to his belly, a thin draw of blood colouring his otherwise light brown vestments under his chain mail armour showed he had been injured. A few of the chains were broken. That had been where the blade of his opponent’s weapon had bitten, Adrius could see it all too well from his hiding place when he peaked around the tree. He had to duck quickly once more for another arrow was shot towards him with perfect aim this time. It was getting closer and he had to do something about it, quick!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
t was a rainy night. The storm was getting closer and the lightnings were brightening the sky. Among the storm a roc cried as it flew by. In its talons a small prey. A sheep maybe? Or perhaps a cow? Or even something larger? He couldn’t tell nor did he really care for.
In truth, Rush Maher’s only interest laid in the forest ahead of his tower. He knew something was amiss and that blood was to be shed in this dark night. He knew that his tower wasn’t safe anymore. He also knew they’d come for him shortly.
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As the roc cried, Adrius peeked around the tree. His tormentor was looking upwards. Adrius left hand released his dagger in a fast blur of movement, striking the creature’s throat. The hands came up, finding the blade deeply embedded in the flesh, almost all the way to the hilt. In his last moments of life he tried to grab the dagger’s hilt as he felt on his knees. His eyes were wide, looking forward but surely seeing nothing. He felt forth, making a wet gurgling sound as he died. Adrius felt that he could come around the tree and check on the dwarf. He ran towards his comrade and turned him over, checking his wound, always looking around to check on his enemies with his peripheral vision. There were still several of them, but after the barbarian display they moved cautiously towards the caravan. Most were fallen and all they managed doing was to kill the woman (or so they thought) and wound the dwarf who was now trying to stand up, supported by the young human.
“Aye, lad, I am a’right. They’d need more than just pointy sticks and rusty blades to hurt this old chump, I say.”
Adrius looked at the dwarf and couldn’t stop grinning, although still worried for the companion. He was a tuff bone. “As tuff as they get...” he whispered.
“What did you say, lad?” - the dwarf asked.
“Oh, nothing.” – Adrius smiled, looking around.
The rain came from the south and started to fall, dampening the forest floor and creating pools of mixed mud and blood. Gerome stood right next to Zinthea, now brandishing a great sword and strolling in circles, protecting the barbarian female.
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He had to run. He couldn’t do much more than run when the rain started pouring down. His God wasn’t pleased at him. Not at all. He didn’t fail, that was a fact, but he needed to hurry or everything would be lost. The clear was right ahead, he knew that. The time had come to please his God. Maybe even become the new champion if he did it right. He knew he wouldn’t fail. He couldn’t so he wouldn’t. His help was needed…
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Adrius felt something odd. Something that wasn’t right. He tried to call for his friends but his mouth didn’t open. There wasn’t any other sound either. And, much to his own dismay, the rain just hang there, in front of him, in mid air.
What kind of trick would this be, he thought. Then a voice came to him:
“Hello, stranger. You must be intrigued by this…”
A pause. Still, more sound came over: the rustling of feet against the wet floor as a dark robed human appeared in sight. He was wearing a dark brown (or was it black?) hooded robe. The hood was pulled back, exposing the man’s square face. His light blue eyes were almost ablaze, mirroring much sapience and age in contrast to his face which only seemed to have lived a few more than thirty winters. His hair was slightly past his shoulder but he used a dark red band to pick it up in a short pony tail; it was light brown - almost blond - and well trimmed, showing great care on the stranger’s behalf.
He was tall. Not as tall as Zinthea, but tall still – about 6’2” maybe and very well built. He should be a fighter, Adrius thought. The long scythe that the newcomer carried with his left hand only helped to strength that conclusion.
“It is a spell I learnt some time ago, you know? You must have heard of it… It stops the time for everyone but the caster – that being me, of course – and for a short period of time nothing but the caster can move. I used it to clean the remaining four monsters you were fighting.”
Sweat was pouring down the man’s face, Adrius saw that. Was it that hard to cut down four opponents that were standing still like silly statues, with his big weapon?
The scythes big blade was covered in red. It was blood, of course, reflecting the moon’s light. The man seemed to be happy with it, proud of his work, his sacrifices.
“Oh, where are my manners? I’m Christobal Eritmus, druid of the grand order of Sendarion and protector of these hoods. I’m sorry I couldn’t be quicker, but I came as fast as I could.”
In this, Christobal clicked his fingers and the rain started falling once more, the grunts of the dying were heard and Gerome’s shouted a painful cry. Adrius turned his back to the druid and looked at Gerome. He was kneeling down with Zinthea’s body over his knees, the dwarf by his side.
“She’s dying. The weapons of that beast were poisoned. She needs assistance. But I can’t let you go, you know?”.
There was commotion on the camp. The patrons came out of the tent. Adrius looked around to see his loved one running towards his companions and kneel down by Zinthea’s form. They had traveled along several times before and there was a strange bond between patrons and guards.
Adrius looked back to the druid. “What do you mean?”
The druid looked Adrius right in the eyes before speaking. His eyes were shinning bright; there was something behind those eyes that Adrius couldn’t quite understand. “I understand that you have feelings for your patron’s daughter, yes? As a druid I can read it in your elven eyes. They screamed it as you saw her coming out of the camp. Yet, I don’t know your name…”
“Adrius”, he croaked in a slow and guttural voice, always looking at this strange character who was keeping him there with his words. How could he know so much? Was he a friend of Gerome? If so why didn’t he knew his name then?
“Ah, Adrius. You see, I know of a way for you to conquer that precious little heart.” – his eyes were buried deep into Adrius silver orbs – “If you just do a little task for me…”
“A task, you say? Of what nature?” – Adrius whispered while absorbing each word spoken by Eritmus.
“You see, to the south of here, right outside the hoods there is a tower inhabited by an evil mage, a mage of great power. His name is Rush Maher and he took an important item from me: a staff of power granted to me by my God himself. It was stolen and I can’t get it back due to certain banishment from that very same tower that I was subjected to. Powerful spell, I tell you. But such banishment wasn’t imposed on you, nor your fellows, so all I can do is asking you to do this for me and in return…”
Adrius broke up the druid’s speech, finishing the idea for him – “You grant me her heart?”
“Yes, her heart and soul. She will be yours, the very same way you wished her for as long as you remember... What do you tell me?” – the voice of the druid was low and peaceful.
The time stop worn off, the dwarf came closer to the newcomer, Adrius’s step-father clinging to his companion, trying to get the barbarian woman up while she kept stumbling.
“Adrius, we need your help to bring Zinthea into a caravan and be off before the effect of the poison kills her for good.” – the dwarf was gasping for breathe. He was strong, but being as small as he was wasn’t an easy task to pick the dead weight up with Gerome. Gerome had sent him for Adrius who was about as tall as the human, at the eyes of the dwarf.
He stood on his tracks, watching the druid who looked back at him with a cold stare. Adrius looked back and started to walk towards him while saaying to the druid “We will help as soon as we can, my friend, for we are indebt to you, but first let us tend to our wounds, will you? We just need a coupld of days more to bring Zinthea to the nearest village where she can have a priest deal with her and we can restock...”
“No!”, the druid said in a commanding voice, a powerful tone that almost made the whole forest shake. “No... There is no time. You must go now, I tell you”.
“Go where?” – a grumbling voice came from the dwarf as he looked dangerously at the druid – “Who’s tha character, Adrius? A friend of ya?”
“Calm down, Arthix. This man helped us and now he’s asking us to help him. As simple as that.” – the half-elf said in an apasiguating tone.
“As simple as what? He wants us to leave Zinthea? He can’t be serious, boy!”
“You bet I am, my good old dwarf. She’s as good as dead already. Even if you reach the village you can’t be sure you’ll be there on time to save her fragile life. It is a small sacrifice on behalf of a greater deed.” – was the druidic answer.
“A greater deed? Ya must be crazy! Ya come here and tell us ta leave one of our own so that ya can send us in a fool’s errand of yours? Listen ta me, you bastard, we never leave anyone behind as long as they have a breath on them. And Zinthea is ta be saved right now. Lets go, boy or ya father will come and take ya by those pointy ears of yars!” – the veins on Arthix’s forehead were pounding as he screamed towards the newcomer, his brows wet with thick sweat. He turned away, waiting for Adrius to follow him and strode nearer Gerome, swatting at some invisible bug along the way.
Yet, Adrius turned to Eritmus, saying “You know, we can go to the village and be back in less than nothing. We just need to save...” – his words were cut short by the druid. As he spoke his figure turned darker and taller or so it seemed to the youngster – “No, no, no! I want you to go now. I need you to go now. You owe me this and you will do as I tell you to. Those kukris were impregnated with a very powerful poison, the poison of the abyss and no one can save her without the proper antidote. And I doubt that you can find it anywhere near here. Thus you’re loosing both your and my own time with a ridiculous quest that will end in tragedy. Hear my words and do as I tell you.”
Adrius was taken aback with such revelation and looked at the fallen comrade. Everyone was surrounding Zinthea but him. He saw Ria there. She looked beautiful as always, kneeling beside Zinthea... Was she crying? Adrius felt that he couldn’t leave his friend to a hopeless death but the offering was alluring. An idea came to mind. What if he pursued this new quest while his friends went back and tried to sabe the female? Would he be able to do it all alone? Of course he would. He was driven by love and that was power enough for him to move the world if needed be.
“I’ll go. Alone, but I’ll go. I know they won’t leave meither Zinthea to die in here nor Igor’s merchandise to be delivered in good hands. They would follow the contract as always and only afterwards would they set their minds upon the druid’s quest.
His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbing her nipples very softly as he felt them growing harder against his tantalizing touch. He gave himself to her lips, felt embraced by her arms and legs while her tongue probed his mouth in a frenetic pace. He couldn’t take it anymore, all her teasing… She was like a goddess to him, tempting him, inducing him to take her and to make her his. And so he did it. With a gentle movement of his pelvis he penetrated her sweet honeyed love nest and made her grasp against his mouth. Her eyes opened wide for just a second and then relaxed. He felt in a deep kind of ecstasy like he had never felt before: she was his at last!
Her moaning started to fill his ears: Adrius, Adrius, oh Adrius…
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“Adrius, wake up!!!
It is time for work, you lazy half-elf son of a mule!”
It was Gerome, his “employer” calling for him, Adrius Transis, a half-elf from Gazär, a small village from the interior lands of Nemesea.
He had moved out when the Blashyrkh came along and razed it. Adrius was still a child but he ran. He ran as much as he could, but that wasn’t enough and he was caught. The very same men who killed Rose and Gwenion, his human mother and elf father, caught him as he tried to run away and toyed with the young infant. In the end he was cut and severely bruised. The raven-men took him for dead and left him as food for the carrion crawlers. Still he lived. Oh, not only Adrius lived but also survived this first trial in his life. As he regained conscience he crawled away from such damned place in search for salvation and found (or was found, that’s not quite clear since he doesn’t remember the episode that well due to some high fevers that attacked his childish body and no one ever cared to fill in that blank for him) a merchant caravan. Gerome Chromion was the leader of the guarding party and he was the one who saved Adrius from Zetara’s grip. Gerome had become his second father and Gerome’s right hand, Zinthea Aruven, treated him as if she was his mother, even though she’s of barbarian blood. Some say that Gerome and Zinthea were lovers at a given point of their lives, but that’s nothing more than gossip and ill-talk.
Either way, Gerome’s employer was a healthy merchant from the northern lands, Igor Castri. Igor still relies on Gerome’s work from time to time, for he trusts very few guards and even fewer guards are able to deal with Igor’s egocentric demands. But the most important thing about Igor isn’t his wealth or his uncharacteristic behaviour. Well, it is, but not to Adrius. Or so he’d wish. In the very same day he got saved by Gerome he saw Ria Castri, Igor’s daughter. And what a delight it was for Adrius to meet such a beautiful creature. Although still young (he would be about eleven at the time, not more), he felt his face grow hot and his heart skip a beat. Through the rest of the time it took him to expel the fevers and recover completely almost everything he saw was that beautiful face beaming a radiant smile at him.
Now, fifteen years later he still loves her. More than anything else in the whole world, but he knows that he’ll can never have her: her father wouldn’t allow an orphan half-breed that composed songs of dubious quality as far as he cared and that gained his living by Gerome’s side whenever his services were needed to dispose his precious daughter. And so Adrius kept dreaming about his long forbidden love. Such were the ways of his life and he never told her about his feelings; she wouldn’t understand them, he believed.
“Adrius, do you hear me boy?!? They are coming!!!”
Promptly Adrius jumped on his feet, long sword on his right hand and a small wooden buckler – a buckler carved on the inside with small signs representing his village and his family, right next to his warm pale skin so that he could feel the power of his own origins right by his side, a buckler made of the woods that surround the ruins of Gazär – strapped to his left arm, giving way to a slender hand holding a small pointy dagger.
“Be ready, Adrius. The patrol guard said he counted sixteen of them. We’re outnumbered four to one. Hold on and stand fast. Let them not get into the inner circle of the encampment. Mr. Castri pays us well enough to avoid it, you know that!”
Adrius mind raced over. It was not his first battle and he knew all the guards were extremely well trained, all seasoned fighters and quite capable of dealing with this kind of threat. Zinthea was already on her defensive stance, Adrius knew it all too well. And even Arthix, the dwarf that had been working with Gerome for as long as Adrius could remember and maybe even longer than that had already his great axe outstripped and was ready to crack some heads open as if they were watermelons. Afteral, it was Arthix who signalled the oncoming party to Gerome for the attack started on his shift.
Oh, only if Greenleaf, the elven ranger was with them. But Adensen Greenleaf had stayed home this time, healing his injuries from their last work, a ten-day ago. And from Greenleaf his mind jumped back to Ria. She was there, with her father in the caravan. He would never let the woman he loved be chopped down by these foul beasts. No, if it depended on him he’d protect her to his last breath.
A flying arrow passed by from behind him. He knew Gerome had taken Greenleaf’s place in this battle and that it was his job along with Zinthea and the dwarf to cover Germoe and his deadly arrows – still not as deadly as Greenleaf’s, Adrius knew. It sank on an eye and a body felt backwards, impelled by the strength of the projectile. The creature died with a gurgling sound has its body convulsed in sick spasmodic movements.
“One down!” - cheered Gerome.
“Ya know there’r more of the foul beasts, Gerome!” – screamed Arthix as his thick yet short legs brought his body into full motion in a straight line ahead of him, his short but stocky arms swinging the silver axe (an axe that was almost the dwarve’s size) in half-arcs in front of him, reflecting the full-moon on the blade’s surface and leaving an odd trail of pale light in its wake. “And a’ll win this time, YA!”
The axe drawn a perfect arc right to left, downwards, finding the neck of another of the foul beasts and splitting it in two, rolling to the floor and coming to an alt by a rock’s side, looking upwards to the executioner. Later on Arthix would swear that he was so fast to kill it that it even gave him a final gaze from the floor before finally dying. Everyone knew Arthix for the good hearted oaf he was though.
Zinthea released a long war cry, the cry of her clan for their patron, Korwythe Bundriell, a cry that would invigorate her body and allow her soul to escape to her own battle plain. “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Then Zinthea ran about 20m at full stride and leaped into the air, twitching her body as she sank her blade turning a terrified living creature into a fast falling corpse. With only a movement of her powerful arm she cleaved the body and pulled her sword closer to her body, standing on a defensive stance as she looked around, evaluating their position.
In no time the defenders had killed three of the attackers and hadn’t suffered a scratch yet. Adrius looked around and started singing a fast paced song, letting it build in his throat and rolling out of his tongue as he moved purposefully towards a small group of three attackers, feeling his body charging up with the energy retrieved from his song. He knew that his companions felt the same way.
Yet, they weren't the only ones on the move and Adrius's three targets understood quite well his intentions. So, they moved too. One of them throwing a small stone axe at him which he easily dodged by quickly stepping to his right. Still such move made him loose his stance and bringing him closer to another enemy and earning him a sword stab to his right arm as he got circled by his opponents; the one who’d thrown him the axe now unsheathing a small sword.
Adrius grunted at the stab but didn’t loose his concentration and while regaining his composure just in time to deflect a long stone tipped spear with his buckler which reverberated in his arm. Adrius almost felt. Yet, another shot well aimed from Gerome got one of his attackers, the one wielding the short sword out of commission, putting an arrow on the creature’s gut. It was enough to distract the other two and give an opening to Adrius to recover himself and fend off the attackers with a well aimed bump of his buckler against the spear’s tip and by twitching his arm while he walker closer to the villain, to use his dark bladed dagger - given to him by the elf when he became a man or so Greenleaf had told him – to work on the brutish neck, biting deep and releasing a warm spray of blood that splattered against Adrius face. The fluid stang his eyes, but that was the lesser of his problems: he had turned his back against the last of his opponents who had now a clear path and would surely be running to deliver the killing blow to the half-elf. Adrius turned on his back while stepping backwards as he tried to put as much distance between himself and his attacker as possible. He brought his sword to a high defensive stance, ready to protect against any blow towards his head or chest. Such blow never came. He could not see his third attacker. His plan to try a manoeuvre he trained so restlessly in the training grounds of any city where the party ever stopped never came. He couldn’t cleave through all his opponents with just one struck. It had worked perfectly against the combat dummies but those were easy targets that didn’t move, didn’t offer any resistance to his sword and didn’t retaliate. He wanted to see how good it would work on a living creature. But in front of him only a pile of gore stood.
“Ah, Arthix! You’re too fast for an old scoundrel…” he said when his mind registered the connection between the pile of gore, the blood splattered against several trees and stones on the floor and the dwarves love for disembowelling his opponents. Thing is that the dwarf was kneeling to the ground and hunched in visible pain. The barbarian woman lurked behind him with her almost 7’, long raven black hair and red armour that partially covered her slender form, fending off several attackers who tried to finish off the little old dwarf. Adrius tried to run to help her but his path was cut down by a sizzling arrow that flew by him at great speed and struck a near tree.
Gerome couldn’t get a clear shot against any of the enemies and the party was in danger, so he released his short bow and grabbed his curious pair of long swords: two long swords, one with white blade that was said to freeze anything it touched at the wielder’s will and another almost unsubstantial, as if made of slick oil and shadows. Gerome jumped down the tree’s branch where he stood while Adrius jumped for cover behind a tree. Another arrow missed him, getting struck against the tree that hid him.
The female screamed again, fending off every attack and cutting a few wooden spears in half with her powerful sword swinging. She hadn’t score another hit yet but almost every of her five attackers were disarmed now; almost every one of them but a burly humanoid with red eyes as dark as blood who attacked her again and again with a pair of fine crafted kukris, most probably lost to him by some other adventure who hadn’t had any luck when ambushed by these creatures. Zinthea slammed her closed fist against its face and the small creature who didn’t measure more than 5’ staggered back. She was on it, sliding her sword between its ribs, killing it. Still, her exposed leg was bitten by the kukri as the opponent released its final breath. The cut wasn’t deep but the kukri must have been poisonous since the huge woman felt her strength growing dimmer and lost balance. Still, her will was ironlike and she fought the poison on her system as she gathered here strength to avoid the other four creatures that even without weapons were quite aggressive now that she was down. They bit and punched and kicked. She endured it and by the time Gerome got there to help her all the four attackers were down, same as Zinthea who was now breathing heavily and quite bruised.
Arthix was recomposing himself. His hands clutched to his belly, a thin draw of blood colouring his otherwise light brown vestments under his chain mail armour showed he had been injured. A few of the chains were broken. That had been where the blade of his opponent’s weapon had bitten, Adrius could see it all too well from his hiding place when he peaked around the tree. He had to duck quickly once more for another arrow was shot towards him with perfect aim this time. It was getting closer and he had to do something about it, quick!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
t was a rainy night. The storm was getting closer and the lightnings were brightening the sky. Among the storm a roc cried as it flew by. In its talons a small prey. A sheep maybe? Or perhaps a cow? Or even something larger? He couldn’t tell nor did he really care for.
In truth, Rush Maher’s only interest laid in the forest ahead of his tower. He knew something was amiss and that blood was to be shed in this dark night. He knew that his tower wasn’t safe anymore. He also knew they’d come for him shortly.
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As the roc cried, Adrius peeked around the tree. His tormentor was looking upwards. Adrius left hand released his dagger in a fast blur of movement, striking the creature’s throat. The hands came up, finding the blade deeply embedded in the flesh, almost all the way to the hilt. In his last moments of life he tried to grab the dagger’s hilt as he felt on his knees. His eyes were wide, looking forward but surely seeing nothing. He felt forth, making a wet gurgling sound as he died. Adrius felt that he could come around the tree and check on the dwarf. He ran towards his comrade and turned him over, checking his wound, always looking around to check on his enemies with his peripheral vision. There were still several of them, but after the barbarian display they moved cautiously towards the caravan. Most were fallen and all they managed doing was to kill the woman (or so they thought) and wound the dwarf who was now trying to stand up, supported by the young human.
“Aye, lad, I am a’right. They’d need more than just pointy sticks and rusty blades to hurt this old chump, I say.”
Adrius looked at the dwarf and couldn’t stop grinning, although still worried for the companion. He was a tuff bone. “As tuff as they get...” he whispered.
“What did you say, lad?” - the dwarf asked.
“Oh, nothing.” – Adrius smiled, looking around.
The rain came from the south and started to fall, dampening the forest floor and creating pools of mixed mud and blood. Gerome stood right next to Zinthea, now brandishing a great sword and strolling in circles, protecting the barbarian female.
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He had to run. He couldn’t do much more than run when the rain started pouring down. His God wasn’t pleased at him. Not at all. He didn’t fail, that was a fact, but he needed to hurry or everything would be lost. The clear was right ahead, he knew that. The time had come to please his God. Maybe even become the new champion if he did it right. He knew he wouldn’t fail. He couldn’t so he wouldn’t. His help was needed…
- - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - -
Adrius felt something odd. Something that wasn’t right. He tried to call for his friends but his mouth didn’t open. There wasn’t any other sound either. And, much to his own dismay, the rain just hang there, in front of him, in mid air.
What kind of trick would this be, he thought. Then a voice came to him:
“Hello, stranger. You must be intrigued by this…”
A pause. Still, more sound came over: the rustling of feet against the wet floor as a dark robed human appeared in sight. He was wearing a dark brown (or was it black?) hooded robe. The hood was pulled back, exposing the man’s square face. His light blue eyes were almost ablaze, mirroring much sapience and age in contrast to his face which only seemed to have lived a few more than thirty winters. His hair was slightly past his shoulder but he used a dark red band to pick it up in a short pony tail; it was light brown - almost blond - and well trimmed, showing great care on the stranger’s behalf.
He was tall. Not as tall as Zinthea, but tall still – about 6’2” maybe and very well built. He should be a fighter, Adrius thought. The long scythe that the newcomer carried with his left hand only helped to strength that conclusion.
“It is a spell I learnt some time ago, you know? You must have heard of it… It stops the time for everyone but the caster – that being me, of course – and for a short period of time nothing but the caster can move. I used it to clean the remaining four monsters you were fighting.”
Sweat was pouring down the man’s face, Adrius saw that. Was it that hard to cut down four opponents that were standing still like silly statues, with his big weapon?
The scythes big blade was covered in red. It was blood, of course, reflecting the moon’s light. The man seemed to be happy with it, proud of his work, his sacrifices.
“Oh, where are my manners? I’m Christobal Eritmus, druid of the grand order of Sendarion and protector of these hoods. I’m sorry I couldn’t be quicker, but I came as fast as I could.”
In this, Christobal clicked his fingers and the rain started falling once more, the grunts of the dying were heard and Gerome’s shouted a painful cry. Adrius turned his back to the druid and looked at Gerome. He was kneeling down with Zinthea’s body over his knees, the dwarf by his side.
“She’s dying. The weapons of that beast were poisoned. She needs assistance. But I can’t let you go, you know?”.
There was commotion on the camp. The patrons came out of the tent. Adrius looked around to see his loved one running towards his companions and kneel down by Zinthea’s form. They had traveled along several times before and there was a strange bond between patrons and guards.
Adrius looked back to the druid. “What do you mean?”
The druid looked Adrius right in the eyes before speaking. His eyes were shinning bright; there was something behind those eyes that Adrius couldn’t quite understand. “I understand that you have feelings for your patron’s daughter, yes? As a druid I can read it in your elven eyes. They screamed it as you saw her coming out of the camp. Yet, I don’t know your name…”
“Adrius”, he croaked in a slow and guttural voice, always looking at this strange character who was keeping him there with his words. How could he know so much? Was he a friend of Gerome? If so why didn’t he knew his name then?
“Ah, Adrius. You see, I know of a way for you to conquer that precious little heart.” – his eyes were buried deep into Adrius silver orbs – “If you just do a little task for me…”
“A task, you say? Of what nature?” – Adrius whispered while absorbing each word spoken by Eritmus.
“You see, to the south of here, right outside the hoods there is a tower inhabited by an evil mage, a mage of great power. His name is Rush Maher and he took an important item from me: a staff of power granted to me by my God himself. It was stolen and I can’t get it back due to certain banishment from that very same tower that I was subjected to. Powerful spell, I tell you. But such banishment wasn’t imposed on you, nor your fellows, so all I can do is asking you to do this for me and in return…”
Adrius broke up the druid’s speech, finishing the idea for him – “You grant me her heart?”
“Yes, her heart and soul. She will be yours, the very same way you wished her for as long as you remember... What do you tell me?” – the voice of the druid was low and peaceful.
The time stop worn off, the dwarf came closer to the newcomer, Adrius’s step-father clinging to his companion, trying to get the barbarian woman up while she kept stumbling.
“Adrius, we need your help to bring Zinthea into a caravan and be off before the effect of the poison kills her for good.” – the dwarf was gasping for breathe. He was strong, but being as small as he was wasn’t an easy task to pick the dead weight up with Gerome. Gerome had sent him for Adrius who was about as tall as the human, at the eyes of the dwarf.
He stood on his tracks, watching the druid who looked back at him with a cold stare. Adrius looked back and started to walk towards him while saaying to the druid “We will help as soon as we can, my friend, for we are indebt to you, but first let us tend to our wounds, will you? We just need a coupld of days more to bring Zinthea to the nearest village where she can have a priest deal with her and we can restock...”
“No!”, the druid said in a commanding voice, a powerful tone that almost made the whole forest shake. “No... There is no time. You must go now, I tell you”.
“Go where?” – a grumbling voice came from the dwarf as he looked dangerously at the druid – “Who’s tha character, Adrius? A friend of ya?”
“Calm down, Arthix. This man helped us and now he’s asking us to help him. As simple as that.” – the half-elf said in an apasiguating tone.
“As simple as what? He wants us to leave Zinthea? He can’t be serious, boy!”
“You bet I am, my good old dwarf. She’s as good as dead already. Even if you reach the village you can’t be sure you’ll be there on time to save her fragile life. It is a small sacrifice on behalf of a greater deed.” – was the druidic answer.
“A greater deed? Ya must be crazy! Ya come here and tell us ta leave one of our own so that ya can send us in a fool’s errand of yours? Listen ta me, you bastard, we never leave anyone behind as long as they have a breath on them. And Zinthea is ta be saved right now. Lets go, boy or ya father will come and take ya by those pointy ears of yars!” – the veins on Arthix’s forehead were pounding as he screamed towards the newcomer, his brows wet with thick sweat. He turned away, waiting for Adrius to follow him and strode nearer Gerome, swatting at some invisible bug along the way.
Yet, Adrius turned to Eritmus, saying “You know, we can go to the village and be back in less than nothing. We just need to save...” – his words were cut short by the druid. As he spoke his figure turned darker and taller or so it seemed to the youngster – “No, no, no! I want you to go now. I need you to go now. You owe me this and you will do as I tell you to. Those kukris were impregnated with a very powerful poison, the poison of the abyss and no one can save her without the proper antidote. And I doubt that you can find it anywhere near here. Thus you’re loosing both your and my own time with a ridiculous quest that will end in tragedy. Hear my words and do as I tell you.”
Adrius was taken aback with such revelation and looked at the fallen comrade. Everyone was surrounding Zinthea but him. He saw Ria there. She looked beautiful as always, kneeling beside Zinthea... Was she crying? Adrius felt that he couldn’t leave his friend to a hopeless death but the offering was alluring. An idea came to mind. What if he pursued this new quest while his friends went back and tried to sabe the female? Would he be able to do it all alone? Of course he would. He was driven by love and that was power enough for him to move the world if needed be.
“I’ll go. Alone, but I’ll go. I know they won’t leave meither Zinthea to die in here nor Igor’s merchandise to be delivered in good hands. They would follow the contract as always and only afterwards would they set their minds upon the druid’s quest.