[Vfw-times] MK Winter assault part 10a

[COkane8116 at aol.com]

12/24 - 8pm 


I whimper, and look to the hole in the wall that lets light in.  The 
wall-that-I-can-see-through has been moved a little, so that I can smell the 
cold air, but He has made me stay inside.  He is bigger, so I must obey him. 
  
But I do not like it.  I should be with Him, and His mate, and The Female.  I 
should not be alone. 

And no matter how much His mate cuffs me, scentmarks are good things. 

I smell a little of Him through the opening to outside, though not as much as 
there is in here.  I can almost smell His mate.  They smell happy.  But I 
cannot smell The Female.  She is still not here. 

Then, I smell something else.  It is not Him, or Her, or His mate.  It is not 
food.  What is -- 

My tail curls under as I remember the smell.  Badsmell.  Badsmell brings 
Badthings.  Badthings that can hurt, and kill, and ... 

I scratch at the movingwall, but it does not move.  He has made me stay away 
from the wall-I-can-see-through, so I cannot go through there.  I must get to 
Him!  I must tell Him!  Badthings are coming! 

Someone moves the movingwall from the other side, and I am free!  I follow 
His scent and His mate's, to the eatingplace, and lose them.  Too much scent, 
too many!  Too much! 

Noise!  Fightnoise!  But He is not here!  Where ... ? 

Her!  I must go to Her!  She is My Female, and I must protect Her! 

I scatter the others as I run through the caverns to the specialplace where I 
remember Her.  Her and ... the Other.  But She must be protected!  She must 
be warned! 

I turn one more corner, skittering on the smooth notground, and run inside 
the specialplace.  She is there, and I place my paws upon Her and give the 
whuffle of parentcall.  I must protect you, Female!  Badthings come! 
BADTHINGS COME! 

The movingwalls behind me come together with a noise like many rocks. 

** 

12/24 - 8pm 

At first, the sound was greeted with confusion -- it had been seven years 
since the general alarum had last been sounded, and there were many Keepers 
in the temple tonight who had never heard it before today. But then the 
shouts and screams of battle began to echo up from the curtain wall below, 
and confusion rapidly turned to fear, stunned disbelief, then anger. 

"Stay calm, everyone!" Raven called out, using one of her favorite clerical 
tricks to make her voice echo unnaturally through the room. "No one move! We 
do not want anyone getting hurt!  Stay put and listen to me!" 

The trick worked: all eyes turned toward Raven. For ten seconds, nobody 
moved. 

In the space of those ten seconds, a terrified and very familiar-looking wolf 
came racing through the doors of the temple, yowling as if every daedra in 
all nine hells were on his tail. He raced down the center aisle, heedless of 
everyone there, and made a line straight for Raven. 

He was halfway to her when the outer temple doors swung shut with a 
thunderous boom. 

The people in the audience jumped at the roaring crash and turned to look at 
the doors as if they had betrayed them.  The wolf raced the rest of the way 
towards Raven and began pawing at her frantically. He was whining forlornly, 
desperately, and Raven's arms went up in an instinctive defensive posture. 
Her ears flattened, and her lips began to curl back in a snarl. 

"Wand'rer!" Lurene called, rushing to the animal's side. She wrapped her arms 
around his neck and held him back, giving Raven the time she needed to regain 
her composure. Placing a hand on his head, she drove a shaft of consciousness 
into his mind like a sharp grey knife. 

"Relax!" she ordered, forcing the thought into the middle of the swirling 
torment of his mind.  Immediately the wolf stopped struggling, fell to the 
floor with a soft whuffle, and fainted. 

"That was a bit much," Lurene observed. 

"He'll be fine," Raven said curtly, turning her attention back to the 
panicked audience. By now some were pulling desperately on the outer doors, 
trying to get out, but the massive wood-and-metal panels refused to budge.   
They might as well have tried to pull open a piece of the stone wall. 
Stretching out her arms, the Lightbringer raised her voice and addressed the 
crowd. 

"Listen to me!" she shouted. 

For the most part, they did.  After a moment, she continued. 

"Metamor is under attack by Nasoj," she said, in a voice that brooked no 
argument. "Even now, an army is storming the Keep. Kyia, the Spirit of 
Metamor, has sealed the temple and placed a warding spell around it. Nothing 
can get in, and no one can get out." 

Voices were raised in protest at this, but Raven silenced them with an 
uplifted hand. "After the Battle of Three Gates, we made provision for the 
temple to serve as a sanctuary should something like this ever happen again. 
  
In our storerooms are food and drink enough for everyone here, and we have 
access to a cistern for all the water we need. There are mats for those most 
in need of them, and blankets for everyone. We are well prepared, I assure 
you." 

A few swords and other weapons were raised above the crowd, "We've weapons, 
Lothanasa, let us out so that we can help!" a panic-edged voice cried above 
the mumblings of the crowd. 

Raven was thankful for that small blessing, but not for the would-be heroes 
among the crowd.  "Now, I shall do my best to find out what is going on, and 
what we can do about it.  But until we know our situation I cannot open those 
doors.  I ask you to keep your heads and respect those around you.  Those 
with weapons I ask to form a watch and prepare to defend us should the temple 
come under attack.  Celine?" 

"Aye, Lightbringer?" the blonde girl replied. 

"I want you and the other acolytes to begin leading people down to the 
Archives -- there will be more space for everyone down there, and I want this 
level cleared within the half-hour. Take people down to the second level if 
you must, but no further. As for the rest of you," the priestess added, 
turning her attention to the townspeople, "I expect you to listen to Celine 
and the other acolytes and do exactly as they tell you. I should have more 
information for you in the morning. Acolytes, meet me back here as soon as 
the temple is cleared. That is all." 

Celine and the other acolytes moved swiftly into action, directing small 
groups of people out of the hall, down the corridor and into the side 
passageway that held the staircase to the Archives. The townsfolk followed 
quietly, numbly, most of them still in shock over this frightening turn of 
events.  Raven watched them go, then turned her eyes upward to the ceiling. 

"It was only a matter of time," she sighed. "He was bound to try this again." 

"Can we win?" 

The Lightbringer turned her gaze on Lurene. The young woman looked more 
frightened than ever. 

"I don't know," she said, honestly. "But by all nine hells, he shall not find 
us an easy target. You are new to Metamor, Lurene, and you have not seen the 
tenacity of a Keeper whose home is under attack." Her voice and eyes grew 
hard, as her mind drifted back to the battle of seven years ago. "We will 
fight with every weapon at our disposal, down to our very teeth and claws if 
needs be -- every ounce of strength, every drop of blood -- and we will make 
him pay dearly for every inch of ground he takes. And if we fall..." Raven 
turned and looked out the window. Beyond that veil of snow lay the Giant's 
Dike -- and beyond that, the domain of Nasoj, full of dark and evil creatures 
eagerly awaiting the chance to storm through the lands of men. 

And Metamor Keep was the only thing that stood in their way. 

"If we fall," Raven murmured, "the world will tremble at our passing." 

** 


  8:05pm. 

The lutin is a pretty sizable one; fairly large compared to most. He's 
missing the tip of an ear through circumstances that are unknown and 
currently unimportant. He has a large, nasty looking scar on the side of his 
face, partially obscured now by the remnants of a small child's snowball. 

He's also got a very, VERY big sword. And he doesn't look very happy at all. 

Jono also discovers pretty quickly that this lutin is plenty fast, too; he 
doesn't even have the time to yell out a warning to Derek before it charges 
him, swinging the sword in a wide arc and growling revenge. 

But Jono is faster still. 

Jonothan Hand's profession, before having his voice box burned out by 
vengeful Inquisitioners and later restored by the Curse at Metamor, has been 
that of the travelling tavern bard. It's a very rough-and-tumble way of life; 
not only can the road be quite perilous for a simple pair of travellers, the 
taverns themselves can get quite rowdy. Taverns are often frequented by large 
warriors; big, violent individuals who can alternately be the most placid or 
the most dangerous people in the world when they get into drink. And the 
stories that Jono tells more often than not can sway the balance. Oftentimes, 
he's able to keep crowds calm and entertained, but sometimes he makes an 
error, and then he and Joanne are in serious trouble.