09-11-2013, 03:12 AM
Whirda stutter-stepped back and forth, fending off a hail of blows from the nearest trio of goblins. Her weapons were a blur, the air filled with a symphony of steel on steel. The goblins stood nearly shoulder to shoulder, jostling each other for position, a wall of putrid flesh and crude copper shields. She was more than a match for them. Her kukris darted effortlessly into each exchange, shoddy goblin shortswords glancing off refined steel. The momentum was stolen from their blows with expert precision.
Their defenses would falter. They would tire, Whirda knew, given time. But it was time she didn't have, with Nyx to worry about, and the unsettling knowledge this was just a scouting party, with the bulk of the war band quick on the approach. As usual, she had explored her way into the center of a greater conflict.
The chieftain raised its splintered staff and screeched an incantation. The two goblins ascending toward Nyx grunted as the spell took hold. Their skin grew coarse and leathery. Whereas before they were held back by a barrage of Nyx's blood bolts, now they shrugged off the blows and advanced with impunity. The blood mage, less dextrous than Whirda, had no avenue of escape.
Desperate now, Whirda crossed both kukris in front of her and conjured a savage gust of wind. The goblin in the center braced itself, thrust its shield high, and skidded backward before the onslaught. Its arms wheeled in a fight for balance. Whirda followed, ducking below the high swipe of the goblin on the right and rising with a kick to the reeling one's shield. Still off-balance, it toppled over.
In her distraction, Whirda barely noticed the attack of the goblin on the left. Its weapon swept low toward her abdomen. Just in time, she brought her weapons across and double-tapped the sword low near the pommel, allowing it to slide dangerously close to her wrists. Before it could taste flesh, she disengaged, skipped back, and the goblin, intent on the kill, screeched and stumbled forward.
Whirda cut that screech short, dragging her kukri across its throat.
Aware almost preternaturally of the attacker coming from behind, Whirda jumped onto the back of the falling goblin, pushing off and leaping high. Already dead, it offered no protest. Clumsily, almost comically, the attacking goblin tripped over its slain ally for sudden lack of a target. It skewered itself through the bottom of its chin, and out through the apex of its skull with a spray of murky blood.
Whirda landed with both feet on the remaining goblin's shield. It howled beneath her weight, but even its cries couldn't drown out the distinct crack of crushed bone and cartilage. Its arms went limp; the shield fell, revealing what was now scarcely recognizable as a goblin's face.
The chieftain roared its outrage, brandishing its splintered staff and charging toward her.
"Whirda!" Nyx screamed.
Whirda growled. She wasn't used to being a protector, to dealing with vulnerable allies. It made her distracted. It made her weak.
The chieftain attacked and Whirda skittered back. The staff struck the ground with an outpouring of sorcery, shock waves that ruptured the earth and rippled outward. Whirda was knocked from her feet and landed hard on her back, the breath forced from her lungs. The chieftain cackled its flee and advanced again, staff raised.
"Whirda!" Another plaintive cry from Nyx sent chills down her spine.
"I have no time for this!" she screamed to no one in particular. As the staff descended, she thrust herself into a backward roll and jumped in advance of the contact. As waves of foul sorcery shuddered beneath her, she landed with both feet on the center of the chieftain's staff. With a resounding crack, it snapped in two.
The chieftain, now unarmed, fell a moment later before her impatient fury, blood leaking from a dozen wounds.
Whirda shoved past the hulking, falling creature and looked to Nyx. The girl had climbed higher to escape. To her credit, one of the goblins lay in a heap at the base of the tree, groaning, a fractured elbow revealing the porcelain white of bone. The other stone-skinned monster had her by the ankle.
Nyx kicked the remaining goblin about the face and shoulders. The sorcery of the chieftain still in effect, it merely laughed. Nothing the girl could do—nothing Whirda had yet seen—her do, could penetrate the sorcerous defenses. Its jaundiced eyes flashed with the lunacy of a creature that would savor violating the girl, picking her limb from limb, cutting, roasting, grinding...
Whirda forced the image from her head. The creature balanced precariously on a branch, one hand wrapped tight around Nyx's ankle, the other around its sword, prepared to sever foot from leg.
There was no time. Frantic, Whirda sprinted forward. She knew instinctively she was too slow.
The sword flashed. Nyx screamed.
The first throwing knife separated the goblin's hand from its body. The second entered its gleeful, snaggle-toothed mouth, cutting its triumphant howl short. A blur of green flashed through the air. Whirda saw, for a split second, an impossibly short moment, a shock of black hair. Already dead, the goblin fell from the tree, landing with a thud in a cloud of dust.
In her surprise, Nyx released the branch above her, lost her footing on the one below. With a yelp, she fell.
Whirda dove, arms outstretched, to catch the falling bundle of red robes. She blinked once, saw Nyx falling. Blinked again, saw another flicker of black hair, headband, handsome face masked by consternation. The man in green caught the girl in strong arms, landed on one knee, and brought Nyx carefully to her feet.
In the time it took for all that to happen, Whirda hit the ground, hard, and rolled to her knees with a gasp of pain.
The man in green smirked.
"Will you tell me who you are now?" he asked, rubbing the cut on the side of his head with one sleeve. "Obviously you're not with them." He jerked his free elbow at the last living goblin, who now stumbled away, holding its torn elbow and whimpering its fear. Before it could reach the trees, a trio of throwing knives peppered its back. It turned, its expression questioning, almost scolding, and fell.
For the life of her, Whirda hadn't seen the man in green move.
Their defenses would falter. They would tire, Whirda knew, given time. But it was time she didn't have, with Nyx to worry about, and the unsettling knowledge this was just a scouting party, with the bulk of the war band quick on the approach. As usual, she had explored her way into the center of a greater conflict.
The chieftain raised its splintered staff and screeched an incantation. The two goblins ascending toward Nyx grunted as the spell took hold. Their skin grew coarse and leathery. Whereas before they were held back by a barrage of Nyx's blood bolts, now they shrugged off the blows and advanced with impunity. The blood mage, less dextrous than Whirda, had no avenue of escape.
Desperate now, Whirda crossed both kukris in front of her and conjured a savage gust of wind. The goblin in the center braced itself, thrust its shield high, and skidded backward before the onslaught. Its arms wheeled in a fight for balance. Whirda followed, ducking below the high swipe of the goblin on the right and rising with a kick to the reeling one's shield. Still off-balance, it toppled over.
In her distraction, Whirda barely noticed the attack of the goblin on the left. Its weapon swept low toward her abdomen. Just in time, she brought her weapons across and double-tapped the sword low near the pommel, allowing it to slide dangerously close to her wrists. Before it could taste flesh, she disengaged, skipped back, and the goblin, intent on the kill, screeched and stumbled forward.
Whirda cut that screech short, dragging her kukri across its throat.
Aware almost preternaturally of the attacker coming from behind, Whirda jumped onto the back of the falling goblin, pushing off and leaping high. Already dead, it offered no protest. Clumsily, almost comically, the attacking goblin tripped over its slain ally for sudden lack of a target. It skewered itself through the bottom of its chin, and out through the apex of its skull with a spray of murky blood.
Whirda landed with both feet on the remaining goblin's shield. It howled beneath her weight, but even its cries couldn't drown out the distinct crack of crushed bone and cartilage. Its arms went limp; the shield fell, revealing what was now scarcely recognizable as a goblin's face.
The chieftain roared its outrage, brandishing its splintered staff and charging toward her.
"Whirda!" Nyx screamed.
Whirda growled. She wasn't used to being a protector, to dealing with vulnerable allies. It made her distracted. It made her weak.
The chieftain attacked and Whirda skittered back. The staff struck the ground with an outpouring of sorcery, shock waves that ruptured the earth and rippled outward. Whirda was knocked from her feet and landed hard on her back, the breath forced from her lungs. The chieftain cackled its flee and advanced again, staff raised.
"Whirda!" Another plaintive cry from Nyx sent chills down her spine.
"I have no time for this!" she screamed to no one in particular. As the staff descended, she thrust herself into a backward roll and jumped in advance of the contact. As waves of foul sorcery shuddered beneath her, she landed with both feet on the center of the chieftain's staff. With a resounding crack, it snapped in two.
The chieftain, now unarmed, fell a moment later before her impatient fury, blood leaking from a dozen wounds.
Whirda shoved past the hulking, falling creature and looked to Nyx. The girl had climbed higher to escape. To her credit, one of the goblins lay in a heap at the base of the tree, groaning, a fractured elbow revealing the porcelain white of bone. The other stone-skinned monster had her by the ankle.
Nyx kicked the remaining goblin about the face and shoulders. The sorcery of the chieftain still in effect, it merely laughed. Nothing the girl could do—nothing Whirda had yet seen—her do, could penetrate the sorcerous defenses. Its jaundiced eyes flashed with the lunacy of a creature that would savor violating the girl, picking her limb from limb, cutting, roasting, grinding...
Whirda forced the image from her head. The creature balanced precariously on a branch, one hand wrapped tight around Nyx's ankle, the other around its sword, prepared to sever foot from leg.
There was no time. Frantic, Whirda sprinted forward. She knew instinctively she was too slow.
The sword flashed. Nyx screamed.
The first throwing knife separated the goblin's hand from its body. The second entered its gleeful, snaggle-toothed mouth, cutting its triumphant howl short. A blur of green flashed through the air. Whirda saw, for a split second, an impossibly short moment, a shock of black hair. Already dead, the goblin fell from the tree, landing with a thud in a cloud of dust.
In her surprise, Nyx released the branch above her, lost her footing on the one below. With a yelp, she fell.
Whirda dove, arms outstretched, to catch the falling bundle of red robes. She blinked once, saw Nyx falling. Blinked again, saw another flicker of black hair, headband, handsome face masked by consternation. The man in green caught the girl in strong arms, landed on one knee, and brought Nyx carefully to her feet.
In the time it took for all that to happen, Whirda hit the ground, hard, and rolled to her knees with a gasp of pain.
The man in green smirked.
"Will you tell me who you are now?" he asked, rubbing the cut on the side of his head with one sleeve. "Obviously you're not with them." He jerked his free elbow at the last living goblin, who now stumbled away, holding its torn elbow and whimpering its fear. Before it could reach the trees, a trio of throwing knives peppered its back. It turned, its expression questioning, almost scolding, and fell.
For the life of her, Whirda hadn't seen the man in green move.
![[Image: drink-pepsi-cola.jpg]](https://lph5i1b6c053kq7us26bdk75-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/drink-pepsi-cola.jpg)