Post by The Supreme Watcher on Nov 30, 2008 9:41:58 GMT -5
They had battled their way to the chapel. Garum's sword arm hung by his side, exhausted from the dozens of evil-minded Malarite scum they had battled, along with hordes of animals and unnatural beasts that they called "servants." Now, with his three companions, Vonita, Snipe, and Innovily, they stood at the door to the idol of Malar.
Garum surveyed them, Vonita's never ending innocent visage marred by a beating from a Malarite spear, Snipe's cockiness not subdued by his dodging of attacks both martial and magical, his green armor not affected by the blood of their fallen foes, and Innovily, through all of their transgressions still carrying herself with that nearly angelic glamor, her black armor not hiding her milky white skin from Garum's eyes. The expression on her face was one of determination, but deeper caring.
Garum surveyed himself. Covered in the crimson spray of several of the men, whom of which he had either disemboweled or decapitated, he struck quite the haggard figure then, and inhaled to steel his resolve. The battle wasn't finished, even though they had a momentary reprieve. And then, with courage bourne of years of battle, Garum and Innovily led the charge into the altar room.
A globe of darkness dropped, and in the carnage, the pair did away with a group of Malar-obsessed nobles, no doubt thinking the brutality and unspeakable horrors of the Malarite clan a welcome vacation from their everyday lives as quill-pushers and tax adjusters. As their groans and screams of death subsided, three warriors, bearing spears coursing with wild energy, and masks resembling the stag's head, bore in upon the duo. In a crazed jumble of clanging steel, splattering blood, and magical discharges, Snipe's bolts, guided by his unending skill, took one of the Malarites, opening him up for Garum and Innovily to strike the man down. The others, however, in their dance of madness and death, were not so easily dispatched. With a rush of magical energy, Vonita called for the servants of nature, and brought down the wrath of her blessed Deity.
As the battle ensued, the High Priest himself, a divine emmisary of Malar, stepped forward on the dais, a great bow in hand. Launching missiles at the quartet of adventurers, he effectively broke the line, forcing them apart. As they separated, Garum and Innovily lost their grip on the battle, and to his abject horror, Garum watched as Innovily fell to the floor. "Retreat!" he called, and motioned to Snipe and Vonita to break for the door, before knocking the Malarite's spear wide and bolting himself. Taking an arrow in the back of the knee, he left the room, turning and barring the door. An air of desperation settled, and Garum couldn't stop recounting the image of Innovily falling in his mind. Tears stung at his eyes.
"We must save her!" he exclaimed, on the border of grief-borne insanity. "Anything you have, use it now! Vonita! Your magic! If it will strengthen me, if it will harm them, use it now!" She set into spellcasting, and Garum was bolstered by magics he didn't fully comprehend. Snipe reloaded his crossbow, and used what magical reinforcements he had. Vonita called to the pervasive essence of nature, and summoned forth a great wolf.
"I go first... I'll distract them, you save Innovily." Garum's face was a mask of determination. The others nodded, understanding his idea.
Unbarring the door, he charged in. The barbaric whirlwind of spears, arrows, and Garum's beloved broadsword lasted only moments before he put himself behind his shield and sent the spearmen reeling back on their heels. He ran across the room, drawing the beastmen with him, and with their attention off of the pair saving Innovily, he dropped into a defensive stance, holding the triplicate while the others could fulfill their objective. Thrusting, parrying, blocking with his shield, and always one-step ahead of their attacks, Garum held them, on the edge of his own death, for several minutes, but it was a losing battle - he was losing breath, and the beastmen's ferocity did not dissipate.
The High Priest, in his mantle of animal hides and horns, leveled his bow, and knocked a viciously barbed arrow. With a twang of the string, and a hearty "thunk," he buried it in Garum's shield arm, as he shoved back one of the warriors. The arm fell limp to his side. Garum struggled to parry the spears with his sword, but it was not long before one of the spearmen launched a devilishly heavy attack high, and as Garum raised his sword to deflect the blow, the other spear pierced his belly, running through his stomach and deeper into the muscles of his back.
The wicked magics jolted him as the weapon impaled him, and he let loose his death scream as he brough his sword down on the shoulder of a spearman. They dropped him to the floor, and as his blood flowed freely from his body, Garum heard the alarm of the Malarites as the pair, with Innovily in tow, left the altar room. Garum looked to his sword, covered in blood, but with some of the clean, well-polished steel still shining through. He brought it to rest on his chest, and took comfort in the nearness of his most beloved companion. Darkness overtook him.
As his spirit hovered about his body, it came to the realization that it had performed its duty to his friends. It stayed a long while, hours, perhaps even days - it was a blur to the non-corporeal being.
The battle occured once more, and as the sound of clanging steel and death rattles neared the spirit, it moved back into the body of Garum Glandash, still with a smile on his ashen, corpulent face. Words of magic moved through the air above him, and he could feel his mortal wound close as a hand, deific and all-powerful, yanked him from his hero's reprieve to the land of the living. He scanned his saviors, and recognized the faces of Vonita, Snipe, and Innovily, accompanied by a man in the military uniform of a member of the Purple Dragon Knights, Leon, one Garum held as a dear friend. With the still-wounded, near-death mercenary in tow, they brought him from the place of interminable evil.
All knew, however, that Garum had sacrificed himself for those he called friends, those he loved as swordmates, those he loved as students and teachers. And those he simply loved.
Garum surveyed them, Vonita's never ending innocent visage marred by a beating from a Malarite spear, Snipe's cockiness not subdued by his dodging of attacks both martial and magical, his green armor not affected by the blood of their fallen foes, and Innovily, through all of their transgressions still carrying herself with that nearly angelic glamor, her black armor not hiding her milky white skin from Garum's eyes. The expression on her face was one of determination, but deeper caring.
Garum surveyed himself. Covered in the crimson spray of several of the men, whom of which he had either disemboweled or decapitated, he struck quite the haggard figure then, and inhaled to steel his resolve. The battle wasn't finished, even though they had a momentary reprieve. And then, with courage bourne of years of battle, Garum and Innovily led the charge into the altar room.
A globe of darkness dropped, and in the carnage, the pair did away with a group of Malar-obsessed nobles, no doubt thinking the brutality and unspeakable horrors of the Malarite clan a welcome vacation from their everyday lives as quill-pushers and tax adjusters. As their groans and screams of death subsided, three warriors, bearing spears coursing with wild energy, and masks resembling the stag's head, bore in upon the duo. In a crazed jumble of clanging steel, splattering blood, and magical discharges, Snipe's bolts, guided by his unending skill, took one of the Malarites, opening him up for Garum and Innovily to strike the man down. The others, however, in their dance of madness and death, were not so easily dispatched. With a rush of magical energy, Vonita called for the servants of nature, and brought down the wrath of her blessed Deity.
As the battle ensued, the High Priest himself, a divine emmisary of Malar, stepped forward on the dais, a great bow in hand. Launching missiles at the quartet of adventurers, he effectively broke the line, forcing them apart. As they separated, Garum and Innovily lost their grip on the battle, and to his abject horror, Garum watched as Innovily fell to the floor. "Retreat!" he called, and motioned to Snipe and Vonita to break for the door, before knocking the Malarite's spear wide and bolting himself. Taking an arrow in the back of the knee, he left the room, turning and barring the door. An air of desperation settled, and Garum couldn't stop recounting the image of Innovily falling in his mind. Tears stung at his eyes.
"We must save her!" he exclaimed, on the border of grief-borne insanity. "Anything you have, use it now! Vonita! Your magic! If it will strengthen me, if it will harm them, use it now!" She set into spellcasting, and Garum was bolstered by magics he didn't fully comprehend. Snipe reloaded his crossbow, and used what magical reinforcements he had. Vonita called to the pervasive essence of nature, and summoned forth a great wolf.
"I go first... I'll distract them, you save Innovily." Garum's face was a mask of determination. The others nodded, understanding his idea.
Unbarring the door, he charged in. The barbaric whirlwind of spears, arrows, and Garum's beloved broadsword lasted only moments before he put himself behind his shield and sent the spearmen reeling back on their heels. He ran across the room, drawing the beastmen with him, and with their attention off of the pair saving Innovily, he dropped into a defensive stance, holding the triplicate while the others could fulfill their objective. Thrusting, parrying, blocking with his shield, and always one-step ahead of their attacks, Garum held them, on the edge of his own death, for several minutes, but it was a losing battle - he was losing breath, and the beastmen's ferocity did not dissipate.
The High Priest, in his mantle of animal hides and horns, leveled his bow, and knocked a viciously barbed arrow. With a twang of the string, and a hearty "thunk," he buried it in Garum's shield arm, as he shoved back one of the warriors. The arm fell limp to his side. Garum struggled to parry the spears with his sword, but it was not long before one of the spearmen launched a devilishly heavy attack high, and as Garum raised his sword to deflect the blow, the other spear pierced his belly, running through his stomach and deeper into the muscles of his back.
The wicked magics jolted him as the weapon impaled him, and he let loose his death scream as he brough his sword down on the shoulder of a spearman. They dropped him to the floor, and as his blood flowed freely from his body, Garum heard the alarm of the Malarites as the pair, with Innovily in tow, left the altar room. Garum looked to his sword, covered in blood, but with some of the clean, well-polished steel still shining through. He brought it to rest on his chest, and took comfort in the nearness of his most beloved companion. Darkness overtook him.
As his spirit hovered about his body, it came to the realization that it had performed its duty to his friends. It stayed a long while, hours, perhaps even days - it was a blur to the non-corporeal being.
The battle occured once more, and as the sound of clanging steel and death rattles neared the spirit, it moved back into the body of Garum Glandash, still with a smile on his ashen, corpulent face. Words of magic moved through the air above him, and he could feel his mortal wound close as a hand, deific and all-powerful, yanked him from his hero's reprieve to the land of the living. He scanned his saviors, and recognized the faces of Vonita, Snipe, and Innovily, accompanied by a man in the military uniform of a member of the Purple Dragon Knights, Leon, one Garum held as a dear friend. With the still-wounded, near-death mercenary in tow, they brought him from the place of interminable evil.
All knew, however, that Garum had sacrificed himself for those he called friends, those he loved as swordmates, those he loved as students and teachers. And those he simply loved.
