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 Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2009 10:08 am
"Bring the prisoner forth."
Murmurs followed the break in the black mass as the smooth but powerful order was followed. An incomprehensible chant began feebly, but was extinguished as the head of the pack raised his hands for silence. Every black, red, and pupil-lacking eye focused on him, disregarding, for the moment, the one now being carried to the front. They wouldn't be killed for disobedience, they knew, but it brought torture horrible enough to nearly drive one to the Light. Or so rumors suggested.
The blue-robed enemy was forced to his knees by the four armored guards, who quickly backed away. Whether from the prisoner or their leader was difficult to determine. The mob's gaze shifted momentarily when the rebel slowly got to his feet.
"Avert your eyes, htagn," spat a servant. "You have no right to look upon the face of the Baalaphim! Must we teach you—" The threat was cut off with a choke and the punishing hand froze, quivering above the fair head of the prisoner.
"We have no reason to be inhospitable to our guest." The sound of the leader's words was soft, but it carried well over the silence of the cathedral. He loomed over the motionless slave and stared into his fearful eyes. "You would do well to realize this and take your place." One of the superior's fingers twitched and the underling took a raspy, shuddering breath. His muscles returned to his control and he quickly scurried to the center of the multitude, keeping his eyes on the floor.
The Baalaphim turned back to the one in front of him, his face calm, but his voice was directed to his army. "Such is the foolishness of the inexperienced. Know this: Do contrary to my wishes and indescribable suffering will come to you. Now, our guest desires to understand his current situation. Am I wrong?"
No emotion emanated from the inferior. He blinked slowly, rhythmically, barely breathing. He kept his hands clasped behind his back and stood as a statue. His eyes, so pale that they almost looked completely white, were fixed on the Baalaphim's own black holes. A nonexistent breeze shifted the plain blue robe of a scout around his bare feet, as well as caused his shoulder-length blond hair to shiver slightly.
The two at the front of the room stared at each other for several minutes before the Baalaphim spoke again. "Is it beneath you to answer me, elf?" The crowd cackled in horrible contempt at the miserable human word. "Yes, that is what you are, an elf, little more than a human, and you deserve the same fate as that pitiful race." The crowd murmured their agreement.
The Baalaphim stood at roughly seven feet, so he towered over the elf, especially on his pulpit. He began pacing, each step silent, his feet shod in modern black dress shoes. He closely resembled a human male from Africa, his skin dark, but his facial features appeared to be of Middle Eastern origin and he had black leathery wings folded snugly against his form. His head had no hair, instead a large, intricate tattoo of a red pentagram dominated his forehead and scalp. He was dressed in an expensive black suit, perfectly wrinkle-free, and he also clasped his hands behind his back. In the near-darkness of the cathedral, one could see his fingernails shining like onyx reflecting sunlight. When he opened his mouth to speak again, his teeth were elongated and pointed, as well as perfectly white, contrasting sharply with the rest of him.
"As you know, the Dark is beginning its conquest of Earth. You are one of the fortunate few who have been spared and allowed to see one of the strongholds of our armies. Now, you have two choices." He stopped directly in front of the prisoner and knelt so their eyes met. "One: You can go free and tell your leaders the location of this cathedral. You will live as a well-recognized spy and perhaps lead an army of your own here." The Baalaphim held the elf's gaze for a few moments, then stood up and turned around. "Your second option is to kill me now."
This sentence created chaos. Every creature erupted in anger, both at the prisoner and at their leader. Do not offer your life to this swine! Fight and kill! Touch the Baalaphim and you will wish you were dead! The crowd advanced several feet in hysteria, shouting threats and insults in every evil tongue created.
"I did not finish." The voice of the Baalaphim rang over every noise in the cathedral. His tone was enough to cut off all noise in an instant. He did not turn back around. "I give you the choice to either kill me now or walk away. If you harm any other soldier, you will be subject to the torture of millions for an eternity. The army behind you is now under my absolute control. They will not be able to move until you kill me. You have thirty seconds to decide. After this time, I will turn around and destroy you myself if I see you. Your time starts now."
Every Dark creature in and around the cathedral was under a curse of immobility. Every eye was on the elf, filled with hatred and anticipation. Several monsters were frozen in grotesque and almost comical expressions.
Immediately after the Baalaphim was silent, the prisoner turned and swiftly made his way through the unmoving Dark. At the entrance of the cathedral, he shouted back at the Baalaphim, his voice betraying the fear that his face did not show. "The death of an enemy leader is a victory, but the annihilation of a Dark army is infinitely more rewarding. I will be back and kill you myself." With that, he exited the stronghold and sprinted to the surrounding forest.
The Baalaphim did not flinch until thirty seconds had indeed passed. The elf had surely cleared the sight of the guards by the time he faced his army again, but he could still feel the presence of the Light and the fear. He put on an evil smirk, closed his eyes, and spoke to the mind of the fleeing prisoner. Run, run, little elf. Know that we will be prepared for you. I will enjoy feasting on your memories and emotions. He felt the fear multiply and drew in a satisfied breath.
Releasing the army from the curse, the Baalaphim opened his eyes and surveyed his forces. "Fellow beings of the Dark," he bellowed. "When night falls, we will march on and destroy the Light encampment to the East with rapid efficiency. Gather your strength, for the enemy will be ready for us. Every one of you will do your duty or you will face dire consequences following our victory."
The cathedral was quiet as the Baalaphim's black eyes scanned the crowd, looking for signs of weakness. For a moment, he was surprised; no soldier flinched. His composure never faltered, though, and he continued his speech. "The day of our conquest is drawing ever closer. The Earth will be under eternal Darkness soon. Only the weak vermin of the Light stand in our way. We will crush them and create the Kingdom of the Dark that was prophesied, ruling with an iron fist!"
The army exploded in battle cries and the Baalaphim turned, his silhouette melting into the shadows. His work was finished with this group.
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Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2009 10:13 am
A perfect 74 degrees, a clear, starry sky, a lush pillow of grass, an endless night to spend together.
The two teens reclined in the park, their hands under their heads, staring up into the night above them. Smiles of contentment could be seen on their faces. No words had been spoken for some time; neither could find anything to say. Anything they thought of would surely ruin the moment. They weren't unhappy about the silence, though; they could easily go all night without saying a thing. Just the presence of the other, half a foot away, was enough.
A brilliant streak of light shot across the glittered blackness above, causing both of the watchers to gasp.
"Shooting star!" she exclaimed.
"Make a wish," he replied, turning his head to grin at her.
She returned the expression and closed her eyes for a time. She reopened them and said, "Your turn!"
"What did you wish for?"
She giggled. "You know that it won't come true if I tell you, so you'll just have to wait and see." Her eyes shined with mysteriousness.
He stared at them with his own. "Well, I'm pretty sure that my wish will come true whether I tell you or not." He moved a stay hair out of her face. "Do you want to know what mine was?"
She shrugged. "I don't need to know. I like surprises."
He chuckled and put his hand on hers. He didn't say any more, and neither did she. There they lay, under the stars, staring into each other's eyes, wishing the same thing.— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — Ivan slowly awoke, the image of the girl fading from his mind. He opened his eyes and breathed in, quickly reliving his dream. What a cheesy way to start a new year!He looked at the atomic clock on his bedside table. It read five fifty-nine, as it always did when he woke up on school days. He switched off his alarm ten seconds before it was set to sound and got out of bed, quickly getting ready for school. As he finished his preparations, he paused to look in the mirror. His thin build didn't impress anyone, he knew, and he wasn't about to draw any attention with his average height. He rubbed his chin; he'd need to shave fairly soon, though it could wait for now. His fashion sense wasn't exactly great, but at least he wasn't completely hopeless, wearing jeans and a dark blue polo. It seemed that the only shirts he had were polos. He'd have to change that, too. His hair had been recently cut, shaved close so he wouldn't have to deal with maintaining it in the morning. The only part of his reflection that he truly liked were his eyes. A few shades lighter than his shirt, his irises were cerulean, with a jagged ring of white around his pupils. They were fairly common as far as blue eyes came, but one feature made him feel that his eyes were unique. As he watched them in the mirror, the ring of white changed color. It slowly grew darker until it matched his pupils, then lightened just as gradually until it became pure once again. When he had first discovered this trait, he thought that it was just a trick of the light, his imagination taking hold. But he watched this same transformation over and over again, and was convinced that it was real, something that marked him as an individual. He had never told anyone about it, preferring to keep it as a personal secret until someone discovered it for themselves. After a few minutes lost in his thoughts, Ivan resumed his morning routine. He retrieved his backpack, went upstairs to the kitchen, and ate breakfast as he waited for his dad to take him to his first day of ninth grade. He couldn't believe it. He was starting high school, but it didn't really feel like it. He had been at the same small school since seventh grade. It just felt like another year, another ten months of homework and tests. Of course, he would get to see his friends that he hadn't talked to since June, so it couldn't be all bad. At this thought, Ivan's mind flashed back to his dream. He went over it again in its entirety and was surprised. He could hardly believe that he remembered it in perfect clarity. Almost every dream he had had for the past several years would disappear from his conscious memory within five minutes, but this one lingered. He thought it interesting, either something was messed up in his head, or his brain wanted to keep this dream for some reason. Ivan chuckled to himself. Sure, these were ridiculous explanations, but they were all he could come up with. His dad walked into the room then, coming from his office to see if Ivan was ready for school. He was a tall man, his black hair shaved almost completely with a hint of a beard growing. He was dressed very casually, wearing an old t-shirt and sweats. Since he worked at home as a salesman, he didn't have to dress up unless he had a meeting. Ivan stood up from the table and cleared his breakfast. He acknowledged his dad with a nod and took his backpack to the garage, where the black Jaguar XJR was waiting. He took shotgun, his dad took the driver's seat, and they were off. His dad would listen to news stations in the car all the time, and Ivan didn't care enough to speak up about it. He didn't listen to music very much. He just stared out the window, hearing the radio but not really listening. His dad didn't say anything for the trip, either, knowing from experience that Ivan would only reply with a grunt, if that. They arrived at the school half an hour before it would start, as they always did. That was how Ivan liked it. He was able to wander the empty halls for a while and think without being bothered. He waved to his dad and exited the car, soon ending up at his first period class, Biology. He deposited his backpack in a seat and went back into the hall. Since it was still fairly warm at this time of year, Ivan decided to drift around outside. He exited the building and turned to face the parking lot, only to stop and stare at something that struck him as odd. On the sidewalk near the school's playground, two men were in a deep and heated conversation. Ivan hadn't seen them on his way into the school, and now they were in plain sight. But that couldn't have been a big deal; they could have simply arrived at their present location recently. Why did he have such a strange feeling, then? He walked closer, not bothering to hide himself since they seemed extremely involved in their argument. He couldn't quite make out the words; they kept their voices low. As he moved toward the pair, Ivan took in all the details. They were both dressed in identical suits, simple, but obviously new. They seemed abnormally tall, with nearly golden, neatly trimmed hair and fairly pale skin. Nothing seemed to fit the uneasiness that Ivan had, until he really concentrated. When he focused on a single area of one of the men, it seemed to flicker in and out of view. He was stunned for a moment, then attempted to recreate the phenomenon. He kept his eyes trained on one of their hands, which immediately started to disappear and reappear at a rapid rate. After a few seconds of this, the hand vanished altogether. Ivan shook his head and blinked a few times. He must be tired or something, because this was just weird. He looked at the men as a whole image again, and they were completely visible. He relaxed slightly, then noticed abruptly that they were staring at him. Their faces clearly showed surprise. Immediately, Ivan began to apologize. "Oh, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I'm sorry." He paused, searching for more words, then decided to leave it at that and turned to go back into the school. "Hold!" Ivan stopped. Several thoughts raced through his head. He had heard "hold," and not "hold on." Why the medieval terminology? Maybe they were part of some secret cult that had to constantly had to speak formally. Or something. If so, they probably thought he had heard something he shouldn't have. He was now in big trouble and they would lock him up. Or kill him. That is, if his speculations were correct. He turned back around to see the men walking quickly toward him with a mixture of concern and relief on their faces. Ivan tried to compose himself, and thought he did a pretty good job, since he was usually calm in any situation. The men stopped just a few feet in front of him and he was able to study their faces. He didn't have time to process the information he gathered, though, because their first statement almost caused a brain overload. "Ivan Marche, human Outer, we are here to contain you and determine your threat." These words spoken by the slightly taller man demanded the response " ...What!?" Ivan managed to restrain himself from the outburst, though, and attempted to think things through in silence. He was good at that. They knew his name. Not a particularly difficult achievement: Ivan had been called out by several of his parents' friends whom he had never seen before. But the apparent title the sentence supplied was strange. Why call him a human? Wasn't that implied? And what's with the "Outer"? Sure, he wasn't particularly popular, but he wasn't that obscure. And what had he done that made the men's duty to "contain" him? There was absolutely nothing threatening about the average, skinny 13-year-old that was Ivan. Except maybe his IQ. He smiled inwardly at his joking pride. Something told him not to cross the men, but his sarcasm would not be denied. "What happens if I don't want to be contained?" he asked in a puberty-altered tenor. "You have no choice," the shorter man replied, not missing a beat. "We have been authorized to use force if necessary." He reached into his suit jacket and gripped something, giving Ivan an ominous stare. Ivan's eyes darted back and forth from the man's face to his jacket. So they had a gun, or something of the like. They surely wouldn't use it to kill him, but they could probably cripple him and carry him off to where ever they were going. He didn't seem to have a choice in this unexpected turn of events. He chuckled silently and shook his head. Here he was being threatened by two guys with a gun, about to be kidnapped, and he was thinking it through like a computer. Maybe he was crazy and really needed to be removed. Ivan started raising his hands in the "'cuff me" gesture when the school bell rang. He looked around, just remembering that it was his first day of ninth grade. He had seen no one walking into the school, yet class was going to start in five minutes. He turned back to the men, deciding to add one more smart remark. "Hey, actually, I had better get going. I really don't want to miss my first day of school, I'd have a lot of catching up to do." Ivan figured that it wouldn't do any harm, they would probably just give him a dirty look and haul him off. The two men looked at each other and held each other's gaze for several moments. The taller one then spoke. "Very well. We will be here when you are finished." They turned around and walked off toward the parking lot. Ivan stared after them, blinking slowly. What just happened? They let him go, just like that? He walked slowly back to his classroom, scratching his head and trying to come to terms with the irregularity that had just been thrust upon him.
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Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2009 10:18 am
"He's been released," rasped the scout. "He's in the building." The captain nodded. "What of the elves?" The imp spy shrugged. "They disappeared when the boy left. I did hear them say that they would wait, though, so we should hold off on the plan." "We must carry out our orders," the minotaur snorted. "We will continue." The imp flew over to their warlock leader. "But they could be anywhere! It's too risky!" Waving the ugly winged thing away, the warlock captain paced around the small, dark tent. His silver eyes pierced through the gloom to analyze his troops. He commanded an imp, a minotaur, two goblins, a demon infant, and a poltergeist. Plus any undead that he managed to summon. At first he had thought that this regiment of the Dark was more than enough for the simple task of capturing a human boy, but when the imp had returned with news of the elves, he wasn't so sure. He turned to his scout. "Go again and make sure they have no reinforcements. We do have our orders." The scout gave an uncertain look, then left the tent. Seconds later, he whizzed back through the opening and gestured to the poltergeist. "You, help me out. We don't have much time and I have a lot of ground to cover." The mischievous spirit, a smoky form vaguely shaped like a man, drifted out the tent with surprising speed. The imp followed and the scouting team quickly covered the mile radius of the area. The two returned after a few minutes and the imp reported to the warlock again. "We saw and felt none besides the elves. Either they're alone or they have some really powerful buddies who can mask themselves." "We'll have to trust that they do not," the captain decided. He turned to his band of monsters. "Spread out, converge on the elves' position. We will eliminate them first. Do it with haste and don't give yourselves away! Commence the attack at 1500 hours." There was a low murmur of acknowledgment and the creatures headed out. The minotaur exited first, moving heavily, shouldering his large axe. The goblins followed, carrying crude scimitars and grotesque expressions. The poltergeist and imp drifted out, leaving the red-skinned demon child and the captain. The warlock stared hard at the baby. It appeared useless, sitting upright on the ground with a vacant expression, unmoving. "Well? Are your powers not even developed yet or something?" The demon looked at the warlock, its eyes black with a single pinpoint of red in the center. A wave of invisible energy sprang from its body, causing the warlock to stagger. Do not doubt me, the infant spoke to his captain's mind. I will assist when I am needed. Two elves are simple to dispose of with your underlings, I trust.The warlock composed himself and nodded nervously. "Of course," he replied, bowing slightly and exiting the tent. He made his way to his chosen location for the attack, the center of the field in front of the building. He would hide in plain sight, cloaking himself in the energy from the dead in the cemetery half a mile from him. The elves would make themselves visible once again just before the time of the attack. They were waiting for the boy as well, and he would come outside at 1455, whether he wanted to or not.
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Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2009 10:23 am
Ivan tried hard to push the two men and their conversation aside for later, and with the help of his first day of school, he was fairly successful. He met up with his old friends in several of his classes, and they fell back into their companionship as easily as if they had been apart for only a weekend. His new classes and teachers appealed to his intellect and interests, and he found himself extremely excited for the coming year. Soon, the school day neared its close. Ivan entered his final class period for the day; one more hour before school let out at 3:25. He took his seat, chatted for a moment with his fellow students, listened to the teacher for twenty minutes, then decided that he needed to use the bathroom. He grabbed the hall pass and left the class. When his business was finished and he left the bathroom, he glanced out the doors to the playground. His vision suddenly went blurry, and he felt off-balance. He swayed, catching himself on the wall and shaking his head. That was a mistake, as his head began to ache. "I need some fresh air," he muttered to himself, his voice sounding far away and weak. He tossed the hall pass in his hand next to the door of his classroom and staggered toward the playground. As Ivan walked outside, he immediately began to feel better. The cool air of the suburbs cleared his head and provided relief. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, leaning against the brick wall and rubbing his temples. He glanced at his watch after a few moments. 2:57. He figured that he wasn't missing much in class, so he decided to stay outside for a while longer. He continued to lean against the wall, staring up at the clouds. During the lull in his academics, Ivan's mind wandered back to the event in the morning. He glanced at the spot where he had stood and talked with the men. It looked completely ordinary, of course, and there was no sign of them. He remembered their promise to meet him again after school. There was still a little less than half an hour before school was over, which was probably why they weren't around. Ivan did a quick self check and decided that he felt well enough to return to class. He turned on his heel, touched the handle, and heard a screech from across the field. Whirling around, he searched for the source, assuming a tire was skidding across some pavement. He was right, though not in the way that he expected. A corner of the parking lot was smoky, and the air quickly filled with the smell of burning rubber. Ivan could clearly make out the black tire marks on the ground, but they stretched for about fifty feet. They began at a now-empty parking spot and ended at the gray Hummer next to a dumpster. Two things struck him as odd: there was no driver, for one, and the skid marks suggested that the car had slid sideways. Ivan glanced over his shoulder, looking through the glass door to see if anyone had also heard the noise and wanted to investigate. When he found no intruders, he hurried over to the fence dividing the school's field from its parking lot. The Hummer was firmly pressed against the dumpster, and Ivan imagined that the damage was extensive. "You missed!" The voice had come so suddenly and from so close that Ivan jumped. He looked around for the source, but saw nothing. He was getting tired of seeing things for today. Or not seeing things, as the case may be. "I didn't miss, they dodged it!" This time the voice sounded deeper, and seemed to come from the area where the skid marks started. Ivan's mind kicked into analytic mode without his call. What he came up with was something invisible had pushed the Hummer toward the dumpster, trying to hit something, more than one something, and had failed. And now the invisible thing was arguing with another invisible thing. "Whatever, your aim was off!" Ivan was prepared for another retort, and pinpointed the spot in the air where the voice had come from. Two feet to his right, he looked up a bit and saw nothing. Again. But as he concentrated with irritation and confusion, he saw something flicker. It reminded him of the two men earlier, and he concentrated harder. As the second voice growled, "You couldn't do any better," a gray, mouse-sized, winged thing materialized in Ivan's view. He took two steps back, blinking quickly and feeling his heart rate increase. He looked to the other voice's area and nearly screamed. He did run, though, not believing his eyes and possessed by a gripping fear of the animal he had seen. Ivan read a lot. Every chance he had, he would find a book at the library, check the title, cover, and summary, read a bit, and take it home to finish in about half a week. He preferred science fiction and fantasy books, enjoying the opportunity to live in a world that didn't exist for the length of the story. He also had a great memory, keeping the plot lines and characters in his head for years and occasionally going over them for entertainment. It was because of his love of reading and his extensive imagination that he was so terrified. He sprinted around the nearest corner of the school and threw himself against the wall, hoping that he was out of sight. He tried to catch his breath, closing his eyes and panting heavily. As he began to calm down, he put his head in his hands and sunk to the ground. Things were just happening too fast. On his first day of school, he had had a memorable dream, almost been hauled off by two guys who called him an "Other," nearly fainted, and now had seen two mythical creatures. Probably, he thought as he saw them again in his mind and put them to names from books, an imp and a minotaur. Ivan couldn't handle it. He had always found the world as a rational place, where thinking and reasoning worked for everything. And he was only thirteen! He shouldn't be experiencing these kinds of things except as a joke or in a video game. He knew he wasn't playing a game, and he was pretty sure no one wanted to, or even could, prank him to such a degree. He shook his head, sniffed, and wiped his eyes free of the tears of confusion. He had to face this, whatever it was. A solution had to be found to this insane problem. He opened his eyes and stood up, intending to confront the creatures, but he had no idea what exactly to do when he got that far. He glanced to his left, away from the field, and this time, Ivan did scream.
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Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2009 10:29 am
The warlock watched in dismay as the two elves managed to dodge the minotaur's attempt at their lives. He had tried to follow their movements, but they ducked into a small copse of trees and used their glamour to fade into the background. They became perfectly invisible, owing to the fact that they lived amongst trees and had always practiced in such environments. He began to grow uneasy when they didn't appear again, glancing around frantically. They could surface at any moment, acting as assassins to pick off his group of the Dark. He kept a spell ready in case they decided to attack him. He was distracted when he heard a scream and a struggle. Whirling around, he faced the two goblins running toward him, dragging something between them. He realized with a start that it was the boy they were looking for, unconscious. He felt a sense of elation; he would be rewarded handsomely for the capture. He still didn't know why they had been ordered to get this pathetic human child, but he didn't complain. His superiors had given him instruction, and he wasn't one to disobey. The goblins reached their captain, who directed them to the tent. "Put him in there, make sure he doesn't leave." They grunted and scurried into the tent for a few moments, then emerged to stand in front of the door, holding their weapons with ferocious expressions on their faces. Well, their methods were crude, the warlock thought, but they were good soldiers. He resumed his search for the elves. Although he had the boy, he wasn't about to leave the two slaves of the Light alive to track them. That would be disastrous. The captain had a thought to call on the demon-child to locate the enemies, but he decided against it. He would probably just be reprimanded again, told that finding them should be easy for him. Besides, he was frightened of the red-skinned infant. He had caught just a glimpse of the demon's power, and he knew that it was capable of much, much more. Suddenly, an animalistic bellow penetrated the silence. The minotaur had suffered a deep cut in his right side, and he was swinging his huge axe blindly, trying to club whoever had wounded him. He was losing a lot of blood, but he didn't seem to be tiring any time soon. The warlock was troubled by this. If the elves had managed to hurt the minotaur, who had amazing senses of smell and hearing, then they would certainly be able to take out his entire regiment through stealth. He called on the undead. The undead were quite a phenomenon in this world. While their physical forms held nowhere near the amount of energy and strength as they had while living, something in the spells that animated them, and perhaps another outside force, instilled in them almost limitless stamina and huge amounts of force. They were also resistant to spell work, which allowed them to shrug off magical attacks and see through concealing arts. The warlock, whose profession was completely focused on the beings, still didn't understand how it happened. But he didn't care; they were reliable and effective allies in any situation. Except, of course, where speed was required. This was one of those occasions. The warlock needed the undead here, at the school, but they were a mile away in a cemetery. He cursed himself for not learning some summoning spells when he had the chance. He began to mumble incantations, his eyes darting around, searching for a sign of the elves. He dearly hoped that they wouldn't decide to attack him until they had finished off his companions. That would give him enough time to get the undead to his location. Maybe. Feeling a rush of dozens of beings coming under his control, the warlock focused for a moment on his spells. He ordered the now-risen skeletons and zombies to come to him, then had the nauseating sensation of seeing through several rotting eyes and empty skulls at once. He forced the visions away, for now, and waited anxiously. He'd have to trust his troops to slow down the elves. The captain analyzed his soldiers, wondering how they were handling the situation. The minotaur was still charging madly without direction, swinging his axe. He was helping nothing. The imp and the poltergeist, however, were both converging on a spot near the tent. They must have sensed the elves, who were probably trying to get to the prisoner. The imp was too small and the poltergeist too insubstantial to do anything, but they were great locators. Why hadn't the warlock seen this before? It was a perfect strategy. As if on cue, the imp darted over to the minotaur, dodging his blind swipes, and shouted something in his ear. The poltergeist continued to drift around, changing direction often, following the elves who were apparently trying to throw it off their tail. The minotaur calmed down and searched for the spirit, finally charging toward the direction it was facing. After several attempts to hit the invisible enemies, the minotaur connected, dazing the elves and causing them to drop their glamour. They winked back into view, sprawled out on the ground, trying to recover. The warlock grinned, but didn't move, still focusing on keeping the undead organized and on course. His smile faded when the elves jumped back to their feet. They stood back to back, waiting for another attack. The warlock knew that they wouldn't have enough time to cast another masking spell, so they had decided to stand and fight. Whether it was a good decision or a death wish was yet to be determined. The warlock couldn't help thinking that he still didn't have the upper hand. At least, not until the undead arrived. The goblins had been watching the struggle, and now that the elves were on the defensive, they left the tent to form a circle around them, joining the minotaur, imp, and poltergeist. The warlock stood off to the side, watching intently. The elves slowly moved around, facing each enemy for a few seconds, always ready. They held no weapons, the warlock finally noticed, but that didn't mean much. They were proficient hand-to-hand fighters, and they could easily have knives concealed somewhere. Eventually, as suspected, the minotaur was the first to act. He took a step forward and swung his giant axe at the elves, the arc just barely long enough to reach. The target elf, however, had been expecting it, and easily stepped out of the way. His partner threw something over his shoulder at the minotaur, who was still recovering from the miss. He flinched at first, then looked down at his stomach. He laughed as he realized that he had only been stuck with a small dart. It just barely pierced his thick hide, and was promptly removed and crushed on the ground. The warlock wondered if the minotaur could really be that stupid. The dart was obviously poisoned, and sure enough, the minotaur quickly felt the effects. He fell to his knees, and then to his face, just as the goblins and the imp launched their own attack. The imp distracted one elf, nimbly using its tiny claws to scratch and poke every uncovered inch of skin. The goblins double-teamed the other, slicing and hacking at the legs and midsection of their opponent, who had produced a pair of simple short swords to parry their efforts. Impressive, the warlock thought. Although the goblins weren’t making any progress, he hadn’t thought that they would have lasted this long. He had expected them to fall within a few seconds at the hands of the elf, yet they were keeping the match an even one. The elf even looked a little worried. And the imp had used a very effective tactic. It kept the second elf occupied and extremely irritated; obviously there was pain involved, or the elf would have just shrugged off the imp’s attempts. But the warlock wanted the fight to end, and as he checked on his approaching undead horde, a huge, evil smile erupted on his face. They were here.
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Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2009 10:33 am
{{Each post above is a chapter, the next one is in the process of being written, feel free to start reviewing. I know there probably isn't quite enough information to start suggesting titles, but maybe we could start thinking about it?}}
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