Post by fladnag on Sept 1, 2005 20:17:51 GMT -5
One of the best vassals I ever had the pleasure to call my friend was Sarch.... I miss him. He documented a couple of our adventures some time ago. Here are a couple of stories as only he could tell them:
Only the Brave
by Sarch of Leafcull
CHAPTER ONE
Lightning split the blackened night sky as the rain came down in torrents. Thunder rumbled its way through the angry night, ricocheting off the low clouds and jagged peaks of the Northern Mountains. It was a night for staying at home.
Another blinding streak of lightning sliced through the clouds, it’s white-hot brilliance backlighting a lone figure standing on the edge of a steep cliff. The sight would be imposing to all but the staunchest of observers. The figure was tall and of good size for a human. His natural size was augmented by a set of good quality armor that came at great expense. Obviously this was a man of stature. A long cloak that flapped as the cold northern winds blew up from the valley below covered his breastplate and Yoroi leggings. Imposing indeed, and only more so when one noticed the Composite Bow slung over his shoulder.
His eyes were hard as he peered through the darkness and rain. As if with enough concentrated effort he would be able to see through the darkness and observe the objects of his attention. Attention they would probably much rather avoid if given the chance.
Without warning another man suddenly appeared behind the first. As tall but not quite as broad, the newcomer confidently strode to stand next to the big man.
Not showing the slightest physical reaction, a growl issued from the big man, “You need to break that habit. One o’ these days yer gonna sneak up on me like that and find my dagger stickin’ out o’ yer gullet”.
“Old habits die hard my patron. You have yourself to blame for this one. You taught me the secrets of stealth.” The smile eased from the newcomer’s lips. “This is a night for hearth and home. Why was I summoned to meet you here? You thinking we are too healthy and need to catch cold?”
“You going soft on me Sarch? Since when has a lil’ wind and rain ever done harm to a man?” The gig was meant to hit a soft spot, and as usual Fladnag was right on target when it came to his Vassal.
“No I’m not going soft! It’s just that a night like this is made for sitting before the hearth with one’s feet propped in front of the fire. For drinking warmed mulled wine and enjoying the warmth of one’s home. Not traipsing about in the wind and rain and standing on cliff edges!”
A chuckle could be heard coming from Fladnag’s direction. “You wanted an Item Enchantment wand didn’t you? Well down there in the dark is a Drudge Lurker. And one will give ya ten he’s got a nice shiny Item Enchantment wand on’em.”
The news sparked a new level of interest in the vassal. “Oh yeah? Well why tonight? Why not take him in the morning, or afternoon or whenever this blasted rainstorm ends?”
Fladnag recommenced his hard stare into the darkness. “Because despite their bug-eyed appearance, those Drudges have bloody bad eyesight. A night like this will only help us to confuse the bugger. I’m sure the lightning and thunder already has him spooked. We’ll sneak up on him and do him the favor of ending his miserable life before he does the same for someone else.”
Sarch nodded his understanding. “Haven’t some of the Lurkers managed to learn some magic?”
“Aye son, they have. And a Lurker will shred you up before you have time to react if he catches you unaware. That’s why we are going to turn the tables on ‘em. He’ll never expect two crazy Aluvians to attack him in the middle of a night like this.”
With that the two comrades began their careful descent into the valley below.
CHAPTER TWO
“Get out of the way old fool”.
The besotted old man staggered out of the way at the younger man’s admonition. A wet and cold Razmon was in no mood for the drunken frivolity he encountered upon entering the “Hoof and Hefer”, Eastham's’ busiest late night establishment. A room with a dry bed was all that the adventurer wanted at the moment.
Declining the offer of a cold ale from a serving maiden, Razmon ascended the stairs leading to the second floor where his room was located. Half way up the darkened staircase he met Vladinator who was just then on his way down to grab some supper.
Vladinator smiled, “Hail my good man! And what news do you bring to me on this fine evening?” Vladinator’s delight was evident as he slapped his friend on the shoulder and gave a good-natured squeeze.
Razmon was unable to match his friend’s lighthearted mood. “Information is becoming hard to come by these days. It required a day’s hard labor at the smith shop, but my payment was information as to the whereabouts of the Hall of Methos.”
“The Hall of Methos! We are sure to get a mote or two in that dreaded hall if the tales be true.”
“Oh they be true according to the Smithy.” A mischievous grin crossed Razmon’s face, “And he will take three Blue Phyntos Wasp wings in trade for the exact coordinates to the entrance portal to the Hall.”
The teasing smile left Vladinator’s lips.
“I thought you said you worked all day as payment for the information”.
“Oh, I did. But the Smithy has a finely crafted Yoroi breastplate for sale. It compliments my leggings perfectly. His wife is a collector of wasp wings and he offered me the breastplate in trade for the wings. Unless you want to find yourself searching for that entrance portal in the scalding sun of the dessert on the Inner Sea’s Eastern shore, I suggest you get me three Blue Phyntos wasp wings by morning. The coordinates will be forthcoming once I have suited up in my new breastplate!”
Spirits lifted at besting his good friend, Razmon shook the water from the sleeves of his cloak and continued his ascent of the stairs, chuckling softly.
Vladinator stood a few moments in the dark of the stairwell contemplating this latest development. Shaking his head he spun to return to his room and retrieve his armor. It looked like he would be hunting in the cold rain rather than drinking steins of cold ale over a warm supper.
With a laugh that started deep within his belly, Vladinator began to recall the times he and Razmon had worked to get the upper hand on one another.
CHAPTER THREE
The wind and rain was a friend to the two hunters as they descended the mountainside. Sounds made while moving through the rocks and trees were easily covered by the racket of blowing limbs and thunder. Rain made the steep slope fairly treacherous, but the two seasoned outdoorsmen found it only the slightest of challenges to stay upright.
Finally reaching the valley bottom, Fladnag signaled for Sarch to come to a halt. Bending to a knee the two men put their heads close to one another.
“Sarch, I want ye to use some ‘o that stealth I taught you and circle ‘round to the eastern side of those big rocks ahead. The blighter should be huddling in ‘twixt the stones trying to stay as dry as possible. I’ll continue on from this direction. Stay alert. Have Ye some greater fire arrows?”
Sarch nodded in answer to the question.
“Good. Be ready with a shot then. Your time for taking a shot will be short and an opportunity like this will probably only knock once.”
With a nod and grunted acknowledgement Sarch headed off into the surrounding forest. The soaking leaves and undergrowth swallowed him in the matter of a few steps.
Fladnag hesitated only a few minutes as he gave Sarch time to circle around and get in position. Pulling his dagger from its sheath, he became aware of the Blood Drinker spell emanating from the weapon as he held it loosely in his palm. The dagger was a gift from his patron long ago. A momento that served to remind him not only of his friend, but one that had also saved his life more times than he cared to count. Learning the arcane lore skills necessary to activate the magic in the dagger had been a long and arduous undertaking. One Fladnag had not particularly enjoyed. But the learning of the Old Rules and subsequent use of those rules was one of the most beneficial things he had done since being portalled to this foreign world.
Standing to his full height, and letting out a ferocious roar, Fladnag ran headlong towards the large stones.
Any peace or warmth the Lurker had managed to find within the shelter of the large rocks was shattered within the span of a few seconds. For one moment the Drudge was rolled into a tight ball hugging the base of the rock under an outcropping, and the next moment it was engaged in a battle for its’ life. Its’ head jerked up and turned toward the sound of Fladnag’s bellow just as the big man burst between the two stones and plowed into the creature.
Natural instinct took over as it began to defend itself, clawing and snapping its fangs at its attacker. The Lurker found mostly thick leather or metal armor and only occasionally managed to get a satisfying slash or jab at skin.
As the battle pitched back and forth between the stones, the Lurker realized the cursed blade the human was using was finding far too many openings in the Lurker’s defenses. Blood from slash and stab wounds was running from one arm and more than one place on it’s chest. The creature began to realize that this human was not like most of its’ victims. This one had skill and cunning. And where the blade was not finding openings, the human’s fist was smashing so hard that it was bringing stars to the Lurker’s eyes. For the first time the Lurker was beginning to experience something that most of its victims had experienced……….fear.
A moment later the decision was made. The Lurker reached into a pouch on its belt and withdrew a handful of powder. With a swish, the powder was thrown into the air between the two combatants. A gurgled incantation from the Lurker and the powder ignited into a momentary blinding white light. Fladnag drew the back of his hand to his eyes to shield him from the scalding light of the powder.
Using the momentary distraction to its advantage the Lurker turned and ran at full speed out of the rocks and toward the forest.
Confident of its’ escape, the Lurker noticed much too late the human form standing amongst the trees dead ahead. Sarch focused on the approaching Lurker…waited for the magic to “pull” the target to him… and let go of his greater fire arrow. With the depth of focus necessary to activate the spells on his composit bow, Sarch was able to watch the path of the arrow as if in slow motion.
The arrow rose in a low arc. The flame made an eerie trail as the arrow made its way to its final destination. The Lurker was able to see the object of its demise mere seconds before it hit home as a great flash of lightening lit up the sky and reflected off of the metal point of the arrowhead. Moments later the Lurker had its final thought as it fell toward the ground……”I hate humans”….blackness.
CHAPTER FOUR
Another fine find! Vladinator’s luck with finding objects of value just lying around on the ground continued. Vladinators’ friend Sarch claims that he must have made a deal with the powers that be to possess such luck at finding loot. In actuality the blame lay with having a keen eye and awareness of his surroundings. Luck had very little to do with it.
Stooping to pick up the Blue Phyntos wasp wing from the sand, Vlad hesitated a moment. Had he heard something? It could be whoever had killed the wasp coming to claim his prized wing. Or perhaps it was another wasp flying out there in the darkness. Vlad knew that many times the Blue Phyntos wasps flew in pairs or even larger groups.
He stayed where he was for a moment to see if the sound drew any nearer. If it was the person who killed the wasp, Vlad would gladly give them their wing. He wasn’t one to steal a kill or the loot of someone else’s kill if they wanted to lay claim. Moments went by and no one approached the area where he knelt. Rising slowly, Vladinator focused his attention on the sound emanating from the night. The rain clouds hid the moon, so the beach was in total darkness. This stretch of beach was too distant from the town of Eastham for Vlad to benefit from any torchlight the bustling town would throw off. Thus, he would have to rely on hearing alone.
The surf crashing on the beach made the task of following the slight rustling noise more difficult than usual. Vladinator closed his eyes and tried to focus solely on the sound. Going on instinct and what little sound he could pick up, Vlad readied his composit bow and headed inland at a careful pace. It wasn’t long before the source of the sound was obvious. There were two Blue Phyntos wasps hovering above the grass just off of the sandy beach. Vlad could now make out the darker outlines of their floating bodies against the lighter darkness of the sky. The sound had grown to a definite buzz that most people found disquieting if not down right intimidating. To Vladinator it was a sound that meant the ending of a miserable night spent hunting on the beach in the cold rain.
In preparation for his upcoming battle Vladinator pulled two greater armor piercing arrows from the quiver at his belt. He wanted to end this battle in a hurry and wasn’t the least bit interested in experiencing the burns that come from the magic these ornery creatures threw at you. A greater armor-piercing arrow was more than up to the task.
Placing one arrow between his teeth, Vlad notched the remaining arrow to his bow. With practiced ease he slowly lifted the bow and drew the string to his cheek. The quality of his bow was manifest as it smoothly bent and held with just the right amount of tension. The warmth of the Blood Drinker and Heart Seeker spells on his bow began to flow into him. Sighting in on the blur in the darkness and breathing out slowly, Vlad let go the arrow. With a whir that blended with the sound of the wasps’ wings, the arrow sailed straight and true to its intended target. The arrow plunged clean through the creature and the wasp dropped like a stone. On instinct the wasp’s counterpart turned like a blur and shot off a fire bolt in Vladinator’s direction. He could already feel the searing heat as the fireball streaked through the night directly at him. Diving to the right, Vladinator smoothly rolled back to his feet as he pulled the next arrow from his teeth. The fire bolt hit the sand precisely where he had been standing moments before, charring the sand and sending a spray of the fine sand particles in the air.
Vladinator had already honed in on his next target, but had not expected the spray of gritty sand that shot into his face and eyes. The unintentional flinch caused his shot to stray and the wasp, having used up its supply of mana on the fire bolt came at Vladinator in a rush, its deadly stinger thrust out before it. Vladinator did his best to blink away the grit from his eyes. What he saw as his vision cleared was not pleasing to him at all.
The wasp was coming full speed with stinger extended. Obviously it intended on stinging Vlad in the face….a sure death sentence to a human. Having no time to ready another arrow, Vlad squared his stance with the oncoming wasp and prepared himself for combat of a more personal nature. A small smile came to his lips.
Vladinator stood where he was as the wasp flew towards him. He wanted the creature to commit to its current path. The wasp was furious and Vlad intended on using that to his advantage. The seconds dragged on as the wasp came. Vlad continued to hold his ground until the last possible moment when, just as the wasp’s deadly stinger would have pierced his face, Vlad dropped to his back while he simultaneously swung his bow up with all of his force. The solid composit bow struck the wasp from behind with such force that the creature was driven straight into the sand. By the time the wasp could regain its senses Vladinator had risen and walked to the fallen wasp. The last thing the wasp heard as the boot came crashing down on its head was Vladinator’s voice growling, “And that makes three”.
CHAPTER FIVE
The two men made quite a racket as, Item Enchantment wand in hand and a dead Drudge Lurker left back in the hills, they no longer had need of stealth. Sharon stood silhouetted in the door of the cabin watching the friends slowly meander towards the cabin’s covered porch.
Sharon was a confident woman. The kind of woman who could live out here in the woods and be happy. She didn’t need the finer things, or the bustle of a busy town. Keeping a home and being married to a man she respected was all that she had ever wanted. She had been blessed to find such a man. She once again silently thanked the good Lord for her husbands’ safe return. The larger of the two men she now watched was the man she had committed her life to. She loved him deeply and passionately. There would never be another like him, and she was thankful the Lord saw fit to allow them to meet and marry.
Studying their latest acquisition and being deep in conversation about the benefits the wand would bring Sarch, neither man noticed the woman watching them approach. The conversation was brought to an abrupt halt as Fladnag nearly ran into his wife standing in the doorway.
Standing with hands on hips, Sharon donned her best frown. “And just where do you two think you’re going?”
Fladnag froze where he was. “Well, um, Sarch and I thought we might be able to get out of the rain and dry off at the fire here before Sarch heads home.”
Sharon didn’t budge an inch from the doorway, “And that’s all?”
Fladnag stole a quick glance at Sarch. “Well…no. We thought you might be willing to cook us up some grub seeing as how we missed supper and all.”
Sharon looked from her husband’s face to the face of his vassal. Sarch suddenly became very interested in some grit that had imbedded itself in his leggings and began to scratch at it. Giving him the excuse to not return Sharon’s look of disapproval.
With a suddenness that surprised both men, Sharon’s scowl turned to a smile and she began to laugh. “Of course I’ll cook you up some supper….you two have always been so easy to tease! Some of this leftover Mattie stew should be just the thing to warm your bellies.” Turning Sharon stepped back into the warmth and welcoming glow of the cabin.
Placing a restraining arm on Sarch, Fladnag leaned to whisper his vassal some advice. “Take off your muddy boots and leave them here on the porch or you’ll see what Sharon looks like when she really IS angry!”
Bending to the task, Sarch replied, “I’ve no doubt of that Flad. Sharon keeps a fine home. To this day I wonder how in blue blazes an ugly cuss like you ended up marrying such a lovely women. Mercy marriage on her part is the only explanation I’ve come up with so far.”
Chuckling, Fladnag placed his broad hand on Sarch’s wet back and shoved his friend through the cabin door.
Chapter Six
The vines and tree limbs stung his face as he ran full speed through the thick forest. Speed was more important than comfort as Razmon tried to increase the distance between him and the pursuing group of Undead.
Even now, the wind brought the smell of rotted flesh to him. Razmon's mind moved at a faster pace than his body, jumping from thought to thought as he worked his way deeper into the forest. "Is there any creature more detestable than these vermin? What strategy should I use? What the heck were a group of Undead doing on that well-traveled stretch of road back there? They never have been there before! How do they move so fast? I can barely keep ahead of them!"
Razmon's already rapid heart beat sped even higher as he slowly became aware of the sound of rushing water……distant rushing water. In an instant a mental picture of the surrounding countryside came to Razmon's mind. The land east of the road (the direction he was running) suddenly ceased to exist as it was cloven by a deep cavern. At the bottom of this cavern was the swift-flowing river named "Sheilah", the name derived from the Sho word for "swift".
A natural reaction to this sort of predicament was panic. But Razmon's training would not allow him to give in to this compulsion. Panic meant death, plain and simple. "If ye plan on panicking when the going gets tough you best go ahead and carve your gravestone now. You'll soon be needing it." The words from Fladnag his patron summed it up nicely. To Razmon's way of thinking, to panic was to stop making good decisions. Poor decision making equated to death, and in this instance it would be a nasty death indeed.
The dry leaves crushed underfoot as he ran were nearly deafening. Razmon found himself wishing it was the Spring of the year when the leaves would still be on the trees and he might be able to evade his pursuers by hiding. The long-dead leaves and scrub brush he was traveling through made that nigh impossible. Dead leaves and twigs………a plan began to develop in the warrior's mind.
Razmon re-doubled his efforts and began to get a better lead on his pursuers. Suddenly he came to a sliding stop. He was at the edge of the cavern. The ground suddenly fell away to the rushing waters of the Sheilah. To his left the steep cliff continued on. Off to his right he could see where the land fell away at a more gradual decline to the cliffs edge.
The Undead were getting near. He could sense the evil behind him. They wanted him dead. They would enjoy the process of killing him. They were moaning and grunting in there efforts to get at this single quarry. One man should present no huge challenge. It would be an easy kill. They would dine on human flesh this evening!
Razmon ran to where he had seen the land slope down to the cliff's edge. As quickly as he could manage he let himself down the slope using the dead scrub as handholds to keep him from falling head over heels over the ledge. At the bottom of the slope there was a rock outcropping. Razmon stood on the outcrop and unslung the bow from his shoulder. A fine bow it was. Quality made although a bit dinged as any self-respecting archers bow would be. Razmon trusted his bow. It has gotten him out of more than a few tough spots like this.
Pulling a fire arrow out of its quiver, Raz waited the few moments it took for his pursuers to reach the top of the slope above him. They were disgusting creatures. Razmon found himself wishing for a good breeze to blow the stench of rotting flesh from the air.
It only took an instant for the five Undead to spot their quarry trapped at the bottom of the slope. With moans of pleasure and uncontrollable desire they began the decent of the hillside. In their bloodlust they never even noticed the man was holding a smoldering arrow in his hand.
Razmon waited patiently as the Undead made their way down the slope. Descending as Razmon had done, they made their way handhold to handhold using the scrub brush as anchors. When they at last made it halfway down the slope Razmon slowly lifted his bow and notched the fire arrow. He aimed and let go his arrow. The arrow made a graceful arc and landed in the dead brush and leaves just ahead of the leading Undead. Immediately the leaves and brush caught fire. The small flame quickly became a larger flame, and with the aid of two more fire arrows, Razmon had created a wall of flame between he and his pursuers. Then as was his nature, Raz began to put the nails in the coffin of those who would unjustly attack him. He sent three more perfectly aimed fire arrows behind the attackers setting fire to their escape route. One fire arrow to each side of the group nicely placed the last nail in that much-deserved coffin.
A faint smile finally made it's way to the archer's face as he watched the Undead move about in panicked confusion. All exits were cut off by the cursed fire. There would be no escape. The screams of his dying pursuers was music to his ears as he turned to look down at the Sheilah flowing contentedly below. It would be cold this time of year. But heck, he didn't want to wait for the fire to die down on the ridge above him and the smoke was stinging his eyes. Not to mention the stench of the burning Undead! With a laugh Razmon shouldered his weapon, tied down all his belt pouches and gracefully dove off the cliff edge.
Only the Brave
by Sarch of Leafcull
CHAPTER ONE
Lightning split the blackened night sky as the rain came down in torrents. Thunder rumbled its way through the angry night, ricocheting off the low clouds and jagged peaks of the Northern Mountains. It was a night for staying at home.
Another blinding streak of lightning sliced through the clouds, it’s white-hot brilliance backlighting a lone figure standing on the edge of a steep cliff. The sight would be imposing to all but the staunchest of observers. The figure was tall and of good size for a human. His natural size was augmented by a set of good quality armor that came at great expense. Obviously this was a man of stature. A long cloak that flapped as the cold northern winds blew up from the valley below covered his breastplate and Yoroi leggings. Imposing indeed, and only more so when one noticed the Composite Bow slung over his shoulder.
His eyes were hard as he peered through the darkness and rain. As if with enough concentrated effort he would be able to see through the darkness and observe the objects of his attention. Attention they would probably much rather avoid if given the chance.
Without warning another man suddenly appeared behind the first. As tall but not quite as broad, the newcomer confidently strode to stand next to the big man.
Not showing the slightest physical reaction, a growl issued from the big man, “You need to break that habit. One o’ these days yer gonna sneak up on me like that and find my dagger stickin’ out o’ yer gullet”.
“Old habits die hard my patron. You have yourself to blame for this one. You taught me the secrets of stealth.” The smile eased from the newcomer’s lips. “This is a night for hearth and home. Why was I summoned to meet you here? You thinking we are too healthy and need to catch cold?”
“You going soft on me Sarch? Since when has a lil’ wind and rain ever done harm to a man?” The gig was meant to hit a soft spot, and as usual Fladnag was right on target when it came to his Vassal.
“No I’m not going soft! It’s just that a night like this is made for sitting before the hearth with one’s feet propped in front of the fire. For drinking warmed mulled wine and enjoying the warmth of one’s home. Not traipsing about in the wind and rain and standing on cliff edges!”
A chuckle could be heard coming from Fladnag’s direction. “You wanted an Item Enchantment wand didn’t you? Well down there in the dark is a Drudge Lurker. And one will give ya ten he’s got a nice shiny Item Enchantment wand on’em.”
The news sparked a new level of interest in the vassal. “Oh yeah? Well why tonight? Why not take him in the morning, or afternoon or whenever this blasted rainstorm ends?”
Fladnag recommenced his hard stare into the darkness. “Because despite their bug-eyed appearance, those Drudges have bloody bad eyesight. A night like this will only help us to confuse the bugger. I’m sure the lightning and thunder already has him spooked. We’ll sneak up on him and do him the favor of ending his miserable life before he does the same for someone else.”
Sarch nodded his understanding. “Haven’t some of the Lurkers managed to learn some magic?”
“Aye son, they have. And a Lurker will shred you up before you have time to react if he catches you unaware. That’s why we are going to turn the tables on ‘em. He’ll never expect two crazy Aluvians to attack him in the middle of a night like this.”
With that the two comrades began their careful descent into the valley below.
CHAPTER TWO
“Get out of the way old fool”.
The besotted old man staggered out of the way at the younger man’s admonition. A wet and cold Razmon was in no mood for the drunken frivolity he encountered upon entering the “Hoof and Hefer”, Eastham's’ busiest late night establishment. A room with a dry bed was all that the adventurer wanted at the moment.
Declining the offer of a cold ale from a serving maiden, Razmon ascended the stairs leading to the second floor where his room was located. Half way up the darkened staircase he met Vladinator who was just then on his way down to grab some supper.
Vladinator smiled, “Hail my good man! And what news do you bring to me on this fine evening?” Vladinator’s delight was evident as he slapped his friend on the shoulder and gave a good-natured squeeze.
Razmon was unable to match his friend’s lighthearted mood. “Information is becoming hard to come by these days. It required a day’s hard labor at the smith shop, but my payment was information as to the whereabouts of the Hall of Methos.”
“The Hall of Methos! We are sure to get a mote or two in that dreaded hall if the tales be true.”
“Oh they be true according to the Smithy.” A mischievous grin crossed Razmon’s face, “And he will take three Blue Phyntos Wasp wings in trade for the exact coordinates to the entrance portal to the Hall.”
The teasing smile left Vladinator’s lips.
“I thought you said you worked all day as payment for the information”.
“Oh, I did. But the Smithy has a finely crafted Yoroi breastplate for sale. It compliments my leggings perfectly. His wife is a collector of wasp wings and he offered me the breastplate in trade for the wings. Unless you want to find yourself searching for that entrance portal in the scalding sun of the dessert on the Inner Sea’s Eastern shore, I suggest you get me three Blue Phyntos wasp wings by morning. The coordinates will be forthcoming once I have suited up in my new breastplate!”
Spirits lifted at besting his good friend, Razmon shook the water from the sleeves of his cloak and continued his ascent of the stairs, chuckling softly.
Vladinator stood a few moments in the dark of the stairwell contemplating this latest development. Shaking his head he spun to return to his room and retrieve his armor. It looked like he would be hunting in the cold rain rather than drinking steins of cold ale over a warm supper.
With a laugh that started deep within his belly, Vladinator began to recall the times he and Razmon had worked to get the upper hand on one another.
CHAPTER THREE
The wind and rain was a friend to the two hunters as they descended the mountainside. Sounds made while moving through the rocks and trees were easily covered by the racket of blowing limbs and thunder. Rain made the steep slope fairly treacherous, but the two seasoned outdoorsmen found it only the slightest of challenges to stay upright.
Finally reaching the valley bottom, Fladnag signaled for Sarch to come to a halt. Bending to a knee the two men put their heads close to one another.
“Sarch, I want ye to use some ‘o that stealth I taught you and circle ‘round to the eastern side of those big rocks ahead. The blighter should be huddling in ‘twixt the stones trying to stay as dry as possible. I’ll continue on from this direction. Stay alert. Have Ye some greater fire arrows?”
Sarch nodded in answer to the question.
“Good. Be ready with a shot then. Your time for taking a shot will be short and an opportunity like this will probably only knock once.”
With a nod and grunted acknowledgement Sarch headed off into the surrounding forest. The soaking leaves and undergrowth swallowed him in the matter of a few steps.
Fladnag hesitated only a few minutes as he gave Sarch time to circle around and get in position. Pulling his dagger from its sheath, he became aware of the Blood Drinker spell emanating from the weapon as he held it loosely in his palm. The dagger was a gift from his patron long ago. A momento that served to remind him not only of his friend, but one that had also saved his life more times than he cared to count. Learning the arcane lore skills necessary to activate the magic in the dagger had been a long and arduous undertaking. One Fladnag had not particularly enjoyed. But the learning of the Old Rules and subsequent use of those rules was one of the most beneficial things he had done since being portalled to this foreign world.
Standing to his full height, and letting out a ferocious roar, Fladnag ran headlong towards the large stones.
Any peace or warmth the Lurker had managed to find within the shelter of the large rocks was shattered within the span of a few seconds. For one moment the Drudge was rolled into a tight ball hugging the base of the rock under an outcropping, and the next moment it was engaged in a battle for its’ life. Its’ head jerked up and turned toward the sound of Fladnag’s bellow just as the big man burst between the two stones and plowed into the creature.
Natural instinct took over as it began to defend itself, clawing and snapping its fangs at its attacker. The Lurker found mostly thick leather or metal armor and only occasionally managed to get a satisfying slash or jab at skin.
As the battle pitched back and forth between the stones, the Lurker realized the cursed blade the human was using was finding far too many openings in the Lurker’s defenses. Blood from slash and stab wounds was running from one arm and more than one place on it’s chest. The creature began to realize that this human was not like most of its’ victims. This one had skill and cunning. And where the blade was not finding openings, the human’s fist was smashing so hard that it was bringing stars to the Lurker’s eyes. For the first time the Lurker was beginning to experience something that most of its victims had experienced……….fear.
A moment later the decision was made. The Lurker reached into a pouch on its belt and withdrew a handful of powder. With a swish, the powder was thrown into the air between the two combatants. A gurgled incantation from the Lurker and the powder ignited into a momentary blinding white light. Fladnag drew the back of his hand to his eyes to shield him from the scalding light of the powder.
Using the momentary distraction to its advantage the Lurker turned and ran at full speed out of the rocks and toward the forest.
Confident of its’ escape, the Lurker noticed much too late the human form standing amongst the trees dead ahead. Sarch focused on the approaching Lurker…waited for the magic to “pull” the target to him… and let go of his greater fire arrow. With the depth of focus necessary to activate the spells on his composit bow, Sarch was able to watch the path of the arrow as if in slow motion.
The arrow rose in a low arc. The flame made an eerie trail as the arrow made its way to its final destination. The Lurker was able to see the object of its demise mere seconds before it hit home as a great flash of lightening lit up the sky and reflected off of the metal point of the arrowhead. Moments later the Lurker had its final thought as it fell toward the ground……”I hate humans”….blackness.
CHAPTER FOUR
Another fine find! Vladinator’s luck with finding objects of value just lying around on the ground continued. Vladinators’ friend Sarch claims that he must have made a deal with the powers that be to possess such luck at finding loot. In actuality the blame lay with having a keen eye and awareness of his surroundings. Luck had very little to do with it.
Stooping to pick up the Blue Phyntos wasp wing from the sand, Vlad hesitated a moment. Had he heard something? It could be whoever had killed the wasp coming to claim his prized wing. Or perhaps it was another wasp flying out there in the darkness. Vlad knew that many times the Blue Phyntos wasps flew in pairs or even larger groups.
He stayed where he was for a moment to see if the sound drew any nearer. If it was the person who killed the wasp, Vlad would gladly give them their wing. He wasn’t one to steal a kill or the loot of someone else’s kill if they wanted to lay claim. Moments went by and no one approached the area where he knelt. Rising slowly, Vladinator focused his attention on the sound emanating from the night. The rain clouds hid the moon, so the beach was in total darkness. This stretch of beach was too distant from the town of Eastham for Vlad to benefit from any torchlight the bustling town would throw off. Thus, he would have to rely on hearing alone.
The surf crashing on the beach made the task of following the slight rustling noise more difficult than usual. Vladinator closed his eyes and tried to focus solely on the sound. Going on instinct and what little sound he could pick up, Vlad readied his composit bow and headed inland at a careful pace. It wasn’t long before the source of the sound was obvious. There were two Blue Phyntos wasps hovering above the grass just off of the sandy beach. Vlad could now make out the darker outlines of their floating bodies against the lighter darkness of the sky. The sound had grown to a definite buzz that most people found disquieting if not down right intimidating. To Vladinator it was a sound that meant the ending of a miserable night spent hunting on the beach in the cold rain.
In preparation for his upcoming battle Vladinator pulled two greater armor piercing arrows from the quiver at his belt. He wanted to end this battle in a hurry and wasn’t the least bit interested in experiencing the burns that come from the magic these ornery creatures threw at you. A greater armor-piercing arrow was more than up to the task.
Placing one arrow between his teeth, Vlad notched the remaining arrow to his bow. With practiced ease he slowly lifted the bow and drew the string to his cheek. The quality of his bow was manifest as it smoothly bent and held with just the right amount of tension. The warmth of the Blood Drinker and Heart Seeker spells on his bow began to flow into him. Sighting in on the blur in the darkness and breathing out slowly, Vlad let go the arrow. With a whir that blended with the sound of the wasps’ wings, the arrow sailed straight and true to its intended target. The arrow plunged clean through the creature and the wasp dropped like a stone. On instinct the wasp’s counterpart turned like a blur and shot off a fire bolt in Vladinator’s direction. He could already feel the searing heat as the fireball streaked through the night directly at him. Diving to the right, Vladinator smoothly rolled back to his feet as he pulled the next arrow from his teeth. The fire bolt hit the sand precisely where he had been standing moments before, charring the sand and sending a spray of the fine sand particles in the air.
Vladinator had already honed in on his next target, but had not expected the spray of gritty sand that shot into his face and eyes. The unintentional flinch caused his shot to stray and the wasp, having used up its supply of mana on the fire bolt came at Vladinator in a rush, its deadly stinger thrust out before it. Vladinator did his best to blink away the grit from his eyes. What he saw as his vision cleared was not pleasing to him at all.
The wasp was coming full speed with stinger extended. Obviously it intended on stinging Vlad in the face….a sure death sentence to a human. Having no time to ready another arrow, Vlad squared his stance with the oncoming wasp and prepared himself for combat of a more personal nature. A small smile came to his lips.
Vladinator stood where he was as the wasp flew towards him. He wanted the creature to commit to its current path. The wasp was furious and Vlad intended on using that to his advantage. The seconds dragged on as the wasp came. Vlad continued to hold his ground until the last possible moment when, just as the wasp’s deadly stinger would have pierced his face, Vlad dropped to his back while he simultaneously swung his bow up with all of his force. The solid composit bow struck the wasp from behind with such force that the creature was driven straight into the sand. By the time the wasp could regain its senses Vladinator had risen and walked to the fallen wasp. The last thing the wasp heard as the boot came crashing down on its head was Vladinator’s voice growling, “And that makes three”.
CHAPTER FIVE
The two men made quite a racket as, Item Enchantment wand in hand and a dead Drudge Lurker left back in the hills, they no longer had need of stealth. Sharon stood silhouetted in the door of the cabin watching the friends slowly meander towards the cabin’s covered porch.
Sharon was a confident woman. The kind of woman who could live out here in the woods and be happy. She didn’t need the finer things, or the bustle of a busy town. Keeping a home and being married to a man she respected was all that she had ever wanted. She had been blessed to find such a man. She once again silently thanked the good Lord for her husbands’ safe return. The larger of the two men she now watched was the man she had committed her life to. She loved him deeply and passionately. There would never be another like him, and she was thankful the Lord saw fit to allow them to meet and marry.
Studying their latest acquisition and being deep in conversation about the benefits the wand would bring Sarch, neither man noticed the woman watching them approach. The conversation was brought to an abrupt halt as Fladnag nearly ran into his wife standing in the doorway.
Standing with hands on hips, Sharon donned her best frown. “And just where do you two think you’re going?”
Fladnag froze where he was. “Well, um, Sarch and I thought we might be able to get out of the rain and dry off at the fire here before Sarch heads home.”
Sharon didn’t budge an inch from the doorway, “And that’s all?”
Fladnag stole a quick glance at Sarch. “Well…no. We thought you might be willing to cook us up some grub seeing as how we missed supper and all.”
Sharon looked from her husband’s face to the face of his vassal. Sarch suddenly became very interested in some grit that had imbedded itself in his leggings and began to scratch at it. Giving him the excuse to not return Sharon’s look of disapproval.
With a suddenness that surprised both men, Sharon’s scowl turned to a smile and she began to laugh. “Of course I’ll cook you up some supper….you two have always been so easy to tease! Some of this leftover Mattie stew should be just the thing to warm your bellies.” Turning Sharon stepped back into the warmth and welcoming glow of the cabin.
Placing a restraining arm on Sarch, Fladnag leaned to whisper his vassal some advice. “Take off your muddy boots and leave them here on the porch or you’ll see what Sharon looks like when she really IS angry!”
Bending to the task, Sarch replied, “I’ve no doubt of that Flad. Sharon keeps a fine home. To this day I wonder how in blue blazes an ugly cuss like you ended up marrying such a lovely women. Mercy marriage on her part is the only explanation I’ve come up with so far.”
Chuckling, Fladnag placed his broad hand on Sarch’s wet back and shoved his friend through the cabin door.
Chapter Six
The vines and tree limbs stung his face as he ran full speed through the thick forest. Speed was more important than comfort as Razmon tried to increase the distance between him and the pursuing group of Undead.
Even now, the wind brought the smell of rotted flesh to him. Razmon's mind moved at a faster pace than his body, jumping from thought to thought as he worked his way deeper into the forest. "Is there any creature more detestable than these vermin? What strategy should I use? What the heck were a group of Undead doing on that well-traveled stretch of road back there? They never have been there before! How do they move so fast? I can barely keep ahead of them!"
Razmon's already rapid heart beat sped even higher as he slowly became aware of the sound of rushing water……distant rushing water. In an instant a mental picture of the surrounding countryside came to Razmon's mind. The land east of the road (the direction he was running) suddenly ceased to exist as it was cloven by a deep cavern. At the bottom of this cavern was the swift-flowing river named "Sheilah", the name derived from the Sho word for "swift".
A natural reaction to this sort of predicament was panic. But Razmon's training would not allow him to give in to this compulsion. Panic meant death, plain and simple. "If ye plan on panicking when the going gets tough you best go ahead and carve your gravestone now. You'll soon be needing it." The words from Fladnag his patron summed it up nicely. To Razmon's way of thinking, to panic was to stop making good decisions. Poor decision making equated to death, and in this instance it would be a nasty death indeed.
The dry leaves crushed underfoot as he ran were nearly deafening. Razmon found himself wishing it was the Spring of the year when the leaves would still be on the trees and he might be able to evade his pursuers by hiding. The long-dead leaves and scrub brush he was traveling through made that nigh impossible. Dead leaves and twigs………a plan began to develop in the warrior's mind.
Razmon re-doubled his efforts and began to get a better lead on his pursuers. Suddenly he came to a sliding stop. He was at the edge of the cavern. The ground suddenly fell away to the rushing waters of the Sheilah. To his left the steep cliff continued on. Off to his right he could see where the land fell away at a more gradual decline to the cliffs edge.
The Undead were getting near. He could sense the evil behind him. They wanted him dead. They would enjoy the process of killing him. They were moaning and grunting in there efforts to get at this single quarry. One man should present no huge challenge. It would be an easy kill. They would dine on human flesh this evening!
Razmon ran to where he had seen the land slope down to the cliff's edge. As quickly as he could manage he let himself down the slope using the dead scrub as handholds to keep him from falling head over heels over the ledge. At the bottom of the slope there was a rock outcropping. Razmon stood on the outcrop and unslung the bow from his shoulder. A fine bow it was. Quality made although a bit dinged as any self-respecting archers bow would be. Razmon trusted his bow. It has gotten him out of more than a few tough spots like this.
Pulling a fire arrow out of its quiver, Raz waited the few moments it took for his pursuers to reach the top of the slope above him. They were disgusting creatures. Razmon found himself wishing for a good breeze to blow the stench of rotting flesh from the air.
It only took an instant for the five Undead to spot their quarry trapped at the bottom of the slope. With moans of pleasure and uncontrollable desire they began the decent of the hillside. In their bloodlust they never even noticed the man was holding a smoldering arrow in his hand.
Razmon waited patiently as the Undead made their way down the slope. Descending as Razmon had done, they made their way handhold to handhold using the scrub brush as anchors. When they at last made it halfway down the slope Razmon slowly lifted his bow and notched the fire arrow. He aimed and let go his arrow. The arrow made a graceful arc and landed in the dead brush and leaves just ahead of the leading Undead. Immediately the leaves and brush caught fire. The small flame quickly became a larger flame, and with the aid of two more fire arrows, Razmon had created a wall of flame between he and his pursuers. Then as was his nature, Raz began to put the nails in the coffin of those who would unjustly attack him. He sent three more perfectly aimed fire arrows behind the attackers setting fire to their escape route. One fire arrow to each side of the group nicely placed the last nail in that much-deserved coffin.
A faint smile finally made it's way to the archer's face as he watched the Undead move about in panicked confusion. All exits were cut off by the cursed fire. There would be no escape. The screams of his dying pursuers was music to his ears as he turned to look down at the Sheilah flowing contentedly below. It would be cold this time of year. But heck, he didn't want to wait for the fire to die down on the ridge above him and the smoke was stinging his eyes. Not to mention the stench of the burning Undead! With a laugh Razmon shouldered his weapon, tied down all his belt pouches and gracefully dove off the cliff edge.
