He sized them up individually. The ranger was the most immediate threat. The bard he could handle. A swing or two should do. The artificer was less of a threat, but still drew a nagging bit of worry in the back of Thorin’s mind.
“Well?!” he called out, swinging the axe easily above his head.
The bard and artificer exchanged a glance. The ranger never blinked, never moved her eyes from Thorin. It was an uncomfortable feeling.
Suddenly, a hooded figured jumped into the arena. Simply jumped. Thorin turned, surprised. It would be nearly impossible to scale the walls of the arena, let alone jump right into it from the ground. He steadied himself and turned his axe to face this new threat.
But the figure wasn’t interested in Thorin. With a voice as booming as summertime thunder he bellowed, “OUT! Everyone out! RUN!”
Thorin blinked. The other group wavered, but stayed put. The figure pointed right at them.
“Get out of here!”
“Why?” demanded Eidward Ku Len, their leader.
“Just leave!”
“What is the meaning of this?” came another booming voice. It was the voice of Archmage Antonio Banderas, the elder of the town and master of ceremonies for the Darkmoon Faire.
“You cannot feel it?!” the figure cried in despair. “How is it that you do not know what is coming?”
The Archmage opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by a tremendous roar that made both his and the figure’s voices seem puny by comparison. At that moment, a great green dragon glided into the arena.
It was huge! Thorin had never seen a dragon of this size. It reminded him of the stories he heard as a child, to keep the dwarven youths from wandering around the mountains at night. The dragon was a deep emerald color, his eyes ablaze with the fire of the thousands of dragonkin who had come before him. He snorted, a great cloud of ash emanating from his nostrils. His wicked curved claws, dark red scythes with hooked ends, dug into the stone of the arena floor. But the most unusual thing about him was a purple aura that consumed his being.
There was an almost humorous moment of stunned silence before the crowd broke out screaming and running. The dragon took the opportunity to smash one of the nearest statues, sending chunks of heavy stone flying. The adventurers ducked to avoid being decapitated.
Without a second’s hesitation, Archmage Antonio let loose a flurry of arcane missiles that pummeled the dragon. The dragon raised an arm to shield itself. Seeing an opportunity, the hooded figure jumped to the spot right below the dragon’s arm, where the flesh was softest, where he could drive a sword through a pierce the heart…
But the dragon had recovered too quickly, and smacked the figure across the arena. He went flying and landed, crumpled, in a corner.
Meanwhile, the Archmage was growing visibly frustrated. The missiles didn’t seem to be affecting the dragon. Barrage after barrage was flung at him, to no avail. As the Archmage geared up for another assault, the dragon began to move forward.
“Get him, you idiots!” the Archmage yelled. The adventurers had been standing in awe, staring at the great beast before them. But now they jumped to action.
Adrie’s reflexes being quicker than her mind, she immediately nocked her bow and fired two rapid shots at the dragon’s underbelly. But the arrows bounced off the purple aura as if she had been aiming for a wall.
Sneaking to the same spot, the Halfling rogue Marill sliced upwards, hoping to catch the dragon unawares. But it was to no avail; the blade of his knife simply bent backwards as if it were made of liquid. Marill stared in horror at his disfigured weapon and prepared to be thwacked mightily by the dragon.
But the hooded stranger had regained consciousness and now stood, whispering an incantation over his sword. The sword glowed briefly, and Thorin thought he could see some type of writing illuminated on the blade. Then, in one swift movement, the stranger moved forward and swung heavily at the dragon.
But no! – not at the dragon himself, but at the aura. There was a great creaking sound, such as the kind made before glass shatters. The aura broke, purple sparks flying off in all directions like a Midsummer fireworks celebration.
The Archmage had moved forward. “Get ready!” he shouted. “This is not going to be easy!” His hands were glowing a bright gold, so bright it hurt to look at. He opened them.
At once, the adventurers felt revived. Niggaroso, who had been sitting out most of the match, sat up and grabbed his staff with new determination. Thorin realized that the Archmage had cast a powerful healing spell. He grinned and flexed his arm, feeling his strength surge.
The dragon, however, was not amused. He turned, and in one swift movement, unleashed both his claws and his fiery breath on the Archmage.
“No!” came a voice from the crowd, and Niggaroso caught a glimpse of a young blond woman, her hands clasped over her mouth, staring in shock. Archmage Antonio wavered then fell, face-forward, onto the ground.
“Attack now!” the stranger yelled. Niggaroso turned to see this new opponent.
“A Deva?” he said in disbelief.
“What?” Eidward Ku Len shouted. “A what?”
But there was no time for questions. “He’s vulnerable now!” the Deva shouted urgently. “The aura is gone!”
That snapped everyone into action. Adrie nocked an arrow into her bow and began firing. Thorin caught a glimpse of Marill Samazumi, slashing fervently beneath the dragon’s throat. Eidward was belting out a song – which would have been strange, if he wasn’t a bard. And Dirac, the artificer, was conjuring up some kind of almost scientific magic. Niggaroso was doing much of the same, focusing his arcane skills to create a kind of bolt, as the Archmage had done.
Thorin, well, Thorin did what he did best – running right up to the dragon and attempting to hack him to pieces.
A few minutes in, it was clear that the dragon was a tough opponent. Adrie was down, and about to be out. It seemed as if no one could do anything for her. Everyone was too busy trying to stay alive themselves.
Suddenly, from the corner of his eye Thorin spotted the Deva, moving as fast as lightning. He sped over to Adrie and cast a healing spell over her. The ranger was doubled over, before painfully getting to her feet. She managed to sink one more arrow into the dragon before kneeling back down.
That dragon swung its head towards the prey it thought it had finished off. Marill took that opportunity and aimed his dagger right in the most vulnerable spot in the dragon’s neck - right where an artery flowed.
The curved blade hit its mark. The green dragon spurted blood from the gash. It swayed unsteadily from side to side, its eyes glazing over. The group of adventurers stood at the ready, staring down the dragon, unsure of whether the last blow struck had been the final one.
“Back off!” Thorin yelled suddenly, breaking the spell. Everyone turned and ran
to the furthest wall as the dragon gave a final shudder and collapsed onto the ground. The
resulting tremor rattled the teeth of adventurers and fairgoers alike.
Now free of the threat, the blond woman appeared in the ring, rushing to the side of Archmage Antonio Banderas. Niggaroso divined that this was Lady Jaina, the Archmage’s student and longtime friend. A quiet moment passed.
Eidward Ku Len sighed and sat down heavily, the first of the adventurers to move. Dirac sat down next to him and began flipping through a book, deep in thought. After tripping over a few loose rocks, Adrie Stormslayer settled down next to them as well.
The others had also begun to regroup, with Niggaroso motioning Marill Samazumi and Thorin into a small group huddle. Eidward eyed them with interest but said nothing. Dirac, catching his eye, nodded. Adrie was always amazed at the way they seemed to have these silent conversations.
Adrie’s eyes swung to the new, mysterious creature – the Deva. He was sitting by himself, wrapping his leg in a bandage. Adrie had not seen his kind before. She wondered where he had come from, and why he had chosen to help them – especially her.
Lady Jaina interrupted her thoughts. She approached them briskly, blond hair shivering over her shoulders. Although she was a powerful mage, she had seen what the adventurers could do and decided it was best to be diplomatic.
“Adventurers,” she began, her voice wavering slightly, the memory of Antonio’s lifeless eyes still in her mind. “Adventurers. I must congratulate you on your defeat of the dragon.”
“It was but a languid and imbecilic creature, my lady,” Niggaroso declared. “It was our duty – nay, our pleasure – to protect you and the people of the Darkmoon Faire.”
Eduard snorted at Niggaroso’s bravado. Niggaroso shot him a sideways look.
“Yes, and we owe you many thanks,” Jaina said. “However, it seems that we have another problem.”
“What is that, my lady?” Eidward asked.
Jaina turned her hands in worry. “For many years this town has been protected by my mentor, Archmage Antonio Banderas. However, as you can see, he is now… unable to continue that protection. We fear that now that he is no longer with us, the bands of outlaws will overrun us. Antonio was the only one keeping them at bay.”
“Rapscallions!” Niggaroso shouted.
“Scalawags,” agreed Dirac.
“Miscreants,” spit Eidward.
“Meanies,” Adrie offered.
“In any case,” Jaina said, “Help will not arrive from Stormwind City for at least a week. In that time, the knaves could very well arrive and destroy the entire town. The elders have an offer for you, adventurers. Stay, until a new Archmage arrives. We will compensate you. You may stay at the inn for free. We are offering you these things, in exchange for protection.” She hesitated. “Please…”
The two groups of adventurers eyed each other up, each trying to tell what the other was thinking. Finally, Eidward got to his feet, a movement that seemed to labor him after the difficult battle. He approached Niggaroso carefully and spread his arms in a gesture of greeting.
“What say you?” Eidward asked.
Niggaroso considered. Then a sudden change in his expression – “Where is the other one?”
They all looked around. The Deva was nowhere to be found.
“There he goes!” Marill said, leaping over a pile of rubble.
The others were quick behind him. The Deva had been trying to make his exit, unnoticed, in the shadowy overhang of the arena. He had just about reached the door when Marill slammed it shut.
“Going somewhere?”
Deva uttered a low growl. “Out of my way.”
Eidward pushed to the front of the group. He spread his arms as he had done with Niggaroso. “You helped us. We should at least know your name, so as to thank you before you take your leave of us.”
The Deva looked completely uninterested. “That is unimportant.”
“Where you’re going, then?”
“Also unimportant.” He shoved Marill out of the way. The Halfling could do little to protest.
“Wait,” Eidward said. “What are you?”
The Deva spun around quickly, revealing a longsword. “That is the third trivial question you have asked me, Ku Len. Ask another. You won’t live to finish it.”
“Testy,” Marill observed.
The Deva pushed open the door. Both Thorin and Adrie went for their weapons.
“Don’t,” Eidward advised. Thorin nodded. Adrie looked disappointed.
The Deva exited, limping slightly, and disappeared from view down the road.
“Marill,” Eidward said. “You know this area.”
“True.”
“Which direction is he heading?”
“Towards Blackrock Mountains, it looks like. That’s the most likely place. Not much out here besides that.”
Eidward nodded thoughtfully. “Follow him. Try to figure out his true destination.”
Marill nodded and started after the Deva.
“Wait. You think you can order around my men like that?” Niggaroso demanded suddenly. He stuck his staff in the ground in indignation.
“Excuse me?”
Niggaroso stepped up to Eidward’s face. “I was traveling with them. We fought together. They are not under your command.”
“I didn’t think they were under yours either,” Eidward said coolly. “Look like mercenaries to me.”
They continued arguing as Marill slipped silently in step behind the Deva. He scanned the stranger’s garments, noticing a small symbol on his upper sleeve. A Bahamut symbol. Suddenly, he was struck with an idea.
“Bahamut,” he said.
The Deva turned, looking surprised, then annoyed. “Yes. Now go away.”
“I, too, am a follower of Bahamut.”
The Deva eyed him skeptically. “Are you.”
It wasn’t a question. Marill knew he was treading on dangerous ground.
“Yes,” Marill stated, trying to sound much more confident than he actually was. “I wield my righteous weapon in the name of the great Bahamut.”
Marill produced his weapon, upon which he had quickly scrawled the exact same symbol that appeared on the Deva’s cloak.
The Deva nodded. “So you are. What do you want, brother?”
Marill sheathed his weapon. “The dragon. Its aura was... unusual, to say the least. Are you seeking others of its kind?”
The Deva sighed, suddenly seeming burdened. “That dragon was corrupted. Heavily. I’ve seen others like him. It is like a plague. So many corrupted dragons… there must be a common denominator. A source. That is what I seek.”
Marill nodded. “As a follower of Bahamut, I understand and respect the path you must now walk to discover this source.”
The Deva leaned in, making sure the Halfling heard him. “Then you understand why you cannot follow me.”
Marill tried not to let his face fall. “Yes,” he bluffed. “Go on. For Bahamut.”
The Deva turned and departed. Marill pretended to study the sky until he was out of sight, then raced back to the group.
Back in the arena entrance, Eidward and Niggaroso seemed to be reaching the end of their argument. As he approached, Niggaroso pointed his staff directly at Marill.
Niggaroso turned to Thorin, keeping his staff aimed at Marill. “Are we to continue, men?”
They exchanged a look. “I like gold,” Thorin said.
Marill nodded in agreement.
“You’re staying here?”
“She’ll pay,” Thorin said, indicating Jaina. “He won’t,” he added, pointing in the direction the Deva had gone.
Niggaroso threw his hands up in the air. “This is preposterous!”
Eidward smiled. “See? Not yours. Now, let’s reach a deal, Niggaroso.”
….
Eidward and Niggaroso had worked out the terms of the deal and drawn up a contract.
“The final task-” Eduard said, drawing out his knife.
Niggaroso tensed up, his hand instinctively going to his own weapon.
“-Sign it.”
Niggaroso relaxed. But he jumped again as Eidward dug the knife into his own arm, drawing blood. He calmly dipped the point of his pen in the blood and flourished it over the contract. He then offered the knife to Niggaroso.
Niggaroso stared, but the look in Ku Len’s eyes told him that this was serious. Sighing, Niggaroso took the outstretched knife and drew a thin red line down his own arm.
Adrie was next. In one fluid motion she did the same, signing the contract with the knife. She tossed it carelessly to Dirac.
“There aren’t more… civilized methods?” Dirac wondered. Already knowing the answer, he didn’t bother to wait for a response. A small globule of blood ran down his wrist and splattered onto the paper.
Mercenaries Marill and Thorin watched, half-interested. Ale was dripping down Thorin’s beard, while Marill was so far gone he was drooling.
“The Powerful Rangers of Chernobyl,” read Eduard. It was more for Adrie’s benefit than anything else; everyone knew Adrie couldn’t read, but she was off pretending she could while sharpening her arrows.
Eidward outlined the hierarchy of the Rangers, as well as what would happen if he, as leader, fell in battle. Everyone nodded in solemn agreement until finally he reached the end.
The newly formed Rangers paid a visit to Lady Jaina, and agreed to stay to protect the village. Jaina’s face lit up as she threw her arms around Eidward. He turned red.
“Thank you so much,” she said.
-Kim
No comments:
Post a Comment