[Vfw-times] MK Winter Assault part 72 - Blood bath
COkane8116 at aol.com
COkane8116 at aol.com
Wed Jan 2 03:09:48 CST 2002
Misha ducked under the sword swing and lashed out with his long sword. One
of his attackers stumbled backwards his intestines spilling onto the floor.
That did him little good as the other three he was facing pressed forward,
eager to avenge their comrade. They didn't see Jotham racing up behind them
until it was too late.
Three swift blows killed them before they even knew what was happening.
Misha turned to help Laura and found the woman fighting a single fighter. All
the other men they had been fighting were dead. He noticed that at least five
of the bodies had arrows in them, courtesy of Caroline and Padraic.
In short order Laura killed the man with a slash across his chest.
"Where's Selig?" she asked.
Misha pointed to a dozen Lutins who were clustered around the general's
standard fighting Georgette, Danielle and Finbar. One of the Lutins collapsed
when two arrows sank into his chest.
Suddenly there came a loud grunt and the sound of bones breaking. Turning
to the noise he saw Meredith standing over the corpse of the ogre he had just
killed. The great bear wavered a moment then dropped to the ground.
"Jotham," Misha said. "See to Meredith and the other wounded. This fight
"What about them?" the man asked pointing to the Lutins, who despite out
numbering their attackers, were loosing badly.
He saw Finbar parry a blow from the general with the knife in one hand and
then lash out with the other. The ferrets blade went through the visor on
Seligs helmet. There was a splash of blood and the lutin collapsed to the
ground. Georgette and Danielle made short work of the remaining Lutins.
Danielle grabbed the staff of the banner and shook it hard. There was a loud
crack and the cloth, and trophies fell to the floor. The banner itself came
to rest on the general's body. It's cloth the color of blood made a fitting
shroud for such a brutal murderer.
"Like I said. This fight is over," the fox explained. "See to the wounded
Jotham. Laura, make sure the dead are actually dead and not faking it. I'll
muster the rest. There's still a bigger battle to win."
There came a pounding at the gates to the little fort. "OPEN UP," someone
shouted from the other side. "GENERAL ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?" Then there was
deeper thump and the door rattled visibly. Tired of knocking, the Lutins on
the outside were battering the door open.
Georgette, Finbar and Danielle, joined Misha who was staring at the wooden
gate. "What do we do?" the ferret asked.
"We let them in," Misha said "and then we kill them." The fox sheathed his
sword and started to unbuckle the pants of his armor.
"What are you doing?" Finbar asked, confused.
"Preparing," Misha asked, dropping the chain mail pants. "This is what
Misha stood behind the tent and waited nervously. Beside him Georgette was
kneeling, a spear in hand. If she was nervous, it didn't show. The woman
looked calm and collected. Peering around the corner of the tent he looked
towards the gate. The wooden gate wouldn't last much longer. Already it was
splintered and hanging by a single hinge.
His eyes fell upon the small metal ball that lay in the open some ten feet
from the door. That little magic sphere had done some great work for him,
it's explosive abilities had evened the odds on numerous occasions. The ball
had always worked flawlessly but how would it work now? Would it work at all?
The fact that it was damaged was clear, but what would it happen when he
activated it? There was no telling what it would do, malfunctioning magic was
a dangerous thing to mess with. Still they had no choice.
There was the loud cracking of timber and the gate went flying off it's
hinges. In rushed a mob of Lutins at least forty strong. They stopped just
inside and looked around. All they could see was debris and dead bodies.
"General?" one of them asked.
Georgette stepped into view and threw a spear that buried itself up to the
shaft in the lead Lutins chest. With a shout the whole group of Lutins
charged straight at the women who had dropped out of sight.
Without giving it a second glance they rushed passed the metal ball laying
on the ground. Misha waited till the middle of the group was over the ball
before setting it off.
"Huyria Kormun," the vulpine said out loud. The ball gave a low hiss, and
it started to glow, dimly at first, then brighter. Then there was a blinding
flash and thunderclap, as the ball exploded. The flames came rushing towards
Misha like a tidal wave. He had a moment of pure surprise before the shock
wave sent him tumbling backwards into the tent.
A little dizzy Misha slowly stood up and shook his head to clear his
thoughts. He looked to where the ball had exploded and saw total devastation.
The gate was blasted into splinters as was the walls on either side for a
distance of ten feet. Of the Lutins there was no trace what so ever, just a
blackened and scorched circle on ground. Random bits of debris burned
fitfully on the ground.
"Wow," Georgette said standing up.
Hefting his battle axe, Misha stepped out of the ruins of the tent. He had
changed his shape and now walked on all four legs of a foxtaur. His humanoid
torso was still covered with his camouflaged chain mail armor. Below the
waist his body was the pony sized form of a red fox. His lower body had no
armor except for the metal soled shoes on his paws. Misha now stood over six
feet tall and weighted almost half a ton, all of it muscle and bone. As he
walked his muscles rippled, revealing the power locked up in them.
He moved towards the gate and Georgette, Finbar, and Danielle walked with
him. Reaching the point where the wooden doors had been Misha looked out at
the bedlam and chaos of battle that raged around the little fortress.
Everywhere his eyes wandered he saw humans, Lutins, morphs, giants and trolls
were locked in a bloody fight for survival. Without a sound or a word he
swung Whisper in a broad arc and charged straight in the chaos of the battle.
Starling pumped her wings hard, just barely dodging out of the way before
an energy bolt burned through the space where she had been an instant before.
Hissing, she turned and let out a fiery blast of her own. The enemy mage
summoned a shield spell to block it, but he winced just a little under the
impact. It looked like he was finally starting to tire.
David lashed out at the mage with his staff, aiming for his head and
forearms. The wizard blocked the blows with his own staff, but he had nowhere
near the same physical strength as the black ant-morph. Slowly, David drove
him backward toward one of the pillars that supported the huge barracks room.
Starling darted around behind the enemy mage and breathed out another
fire jet. This time she caught him squarely in the middle of his upper back,
and the mage screamed in pain and rage as the flames burned through his robes
and into his flesh. Dragonfire was intensely hot, difficult to extinguish and
clung to surfaces in a thin film -- but it was also highly magical, which
allowed the wizard to absorb much of its power before it could do serious
damage. Still, the attack managed to get her opponent's attention, and for an
instant David was forgotten -- an instant he used to knock the mage's staff
out of his hands.
The sorcerer's face contorted with rage. Bracing himself against the
pillar, he lashed out with claw-like hands towards the ant-warrior. Lightning
bolts shot from his fingertips, coursing over David's body, but they fizzled
in the space of an instant as David drained the mana out of the spell.
Swatting aside the wizard's hands with a sweep of his staff, David drew back
and rammed it hard into the man's gut.
Lord Dokorath's blessing was apparently still in effect, because the
mage's abdominal cavity ruptured in a spray of blood, run through by the
blunt, heavy staff. As the man writhed on the end of the pole, Starling let
out one final jet of flame, aimed at the wizard's head. She held it there for
a long time, longer than she'd ever held a blast before, until a deep,
throbbing ache welled up in her throat. At last she couldn't take it any
longer and closed her mouth, swallowing a few times to try to get the
discomfort out of her throat. The mage's body sunk to the floor, its head
nothing more than a blackened skull. Starling turned away, feeling more than
a little disturbed about what she'd just done.
"Come on," David said encouragingly. "Don't think about it right now --
our friends still need our help."
After a pause, Starling nodded. Their friends _did_ need them, and that
was all that mattered for the moment. She turned and flew beside the ant-man
as he ran back into the fray, being careful not to look at the smoldering
corpse behind her.
Misha charged a group of thirty Lutins who were formed up into two lines
shooting arrows at the attacking keepers. Their backs were to him and they
didn't notice him until it was far too late. His first swing cut down two
Lutins with a single stroke, sending their body parts flying in all
directions. The backstroke beheaded another in a spray of blood.
Rearing up he lashed out with his front legs. Steel shod paws cracked hard
against bone and armor. Misha became like a whirlwind, slashing and swinging
his axe and lashing out with his paws in all directions. Every blow seemed to
connect with a lutin, every blow killed something. He was an unstoppable
killing machine. In the battle at Stepping Castle he had gone berserk and
become a monster, loosing all control, but Misha remained in complete control
this time. The blind rage threatened to swallow him up but he fought it as he
fought the Lutins. He kept the rage in check, controlling it and not being
controlled by it, using it to charge his body and drive himself harder and
Behind him he heard running feet. He lashed out with both hind legs and
heard bones crunching. Then he spun his large, bulky body around with a speed
and grace that surprised him. It certainly took the twenty Lutins that were
rushing him by surprise. His front legs took down two Lutins as his axe
killed a third. The huge weapon moved with a deftness and speed born of years
of practice. The blade sped passed his left hind leg missing it by inches. It
didn't miss the lutin who was trying to roll under him. It's skull was
cleaved in half, brains splattering everywhere.
Misha closed his mind to everything but the fighting, to simply killing
the enemy. The Lutins disappeared, replaced by men in armor, but they fared
no better. Misha killed their leader with a single sweep of his axe and the
rest scattered, trying to escape. Only a handful succeeded.
A large canine appeared in front of Misha, and suddenly waves of pure
terror enveloped him. He stopped fighting and stood numbly in front of the
moondog, too terrified to even move. Then he felt the handle of Whisper grow
warm him his hands and the fear left him as suddenly as it had come. The
vulpine let of a blood curdling yowl and reared up on his hind legs to his
full height of ten feet. Then he dropped down on the moon dog, his front paws
descending like meteors from the heavens. There was the sounds of bones
crunching as his paws landed on the monsters head and the creatures body fell
to the ground. Misha lashed out again and again, channeling all his rage and
pain into each blow until the corpse was an unrecognizable, bloody mess. Only
then did he move on to other targets.
Without a second glance at the creatures corpse he charged a group of
Lutins who had surrounded a Keeper. A swipe of the axe and a flash of steel
shod paws killed most of them, the rest tried to flee, but didn't get far.
The other keeper helped cut them down with a flash of sword play.
Suddenly all the Lutins were gone and only the dead remained near the
keepers. The battle raged around them but for a moment the two were alone. He
pushed the rage that filled him back down. He needed to rest for a moment, to
regain his bearings and measure where next he was needed.
It took Misha a moment to recognize the blood and gore covered creature in
front of him, but the long tail was a dead giveaway. Even matted with blood,
it could belong to only one person. "Rickkter," Misha said.
The creature looked at the Long Scout with cold, hard eyes that suddenly
lightened in recognition. "I see you're still alive," was the raccoons
comment. "Although you've put on some weight since the last time we met."
Misha laughed for the first time in many days. "You look like the black
dog of Maladar," the vulpine replied. "How goes the battle?"
"Badly," the mage answered coldly. "We're badly outnumbered."
The foxtaur swung his axe in a broad arc. "Well then, let's go even odds."
Rickkter nodded and the two went back to the business of dealing death.
End part 73
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
More information about the VFW-Times