Fawn BW XXXV
Fawn peered into a small, dark room, which contained a dozen or so short, stocky humanoids. The room was simple: stone walls from which tapestries, depicting mountain scenes, were hung and against which polearms, axes, hammers and shield were leant. In the room’s centre, and around which all the occupants stood, was a stone tomb, about five foot long and three feet high. On the lid of the tomb was a carving of a male, of similar proportions, armour and clothing to those surrounding it. On the carved breast plate, the symbol б ~ ﭲ {= Grobdur} was clearly visible, illuminated by the glowing pipe of one of those in the room. There was only one door - iron clad and heavy. All in the room faced the door expectantly; some trained crossbows in that direction, others held weapons in front of them, and those more relaxed slung their weapons and smoked. It was obvious that all were waiting nervously, and most were hurt in some way – cut, burnt, bruised and bloody. At the centre of the group, standing between the door and the tomb, were two figures deep in conversation.
“They are just beyond the door now my friend; I think this is goodbye,” whispered one - a short male with a heavy-boned, wizened face, bulbous nose and combed back, long, black hair, topped with a circlet of gold. His midnight-blue, glossed brigandine armour contained a strong, lean build. The wide band of leather that encircled his trim waist provided storage for pouches, books, scrolls and weapons – axes and a short sword. Across his back a halberd was slung and by his side a light crossbow with empty quiver.
“Well, goodbye to our homes at least,” replied a slightly taller, broader male, dressed in full, burnished plate mail, adorned with gold, silver and gems. His helm was well fashioned, providing complete protection other than for the face, which was mostly covered in blonde hair: full beard, moustache and thick eyebrows. Bright blue, kindly eyes gleamed from their sunken sockets and were fixed on his friend. On top of his helm was a platinum circlet, which supported three points - each decorated with a large, yellow stone that shone in the gloaming. He carried an enormous hammer on which all manner of mystical runes and tracery gently glowed silver. His gauntlets glowed, highlighting a dull, black ring which he wore over them on his right hand. Tucked into his girdle was a selection of other weapons – axes and hammers, swords and darts. Slung across his back was a large crossbow together with an empty quiver.
I would not leave the Gate unguarded,” continued the first, “but fear we have no choice; without Orodruin’s knowledge, or Lastar’s for that matter, I cannot see how we can close it.”
“Without the Book,” agreed the second, “we can do nothing.”
“Then perhaps, my dear Hasfast, we should hold for as long as we dare, just in case the enemy weary of us.”
“If they don’t I will take us to the Astral and we will look for your realm my friend, if you know the way.”
“I can get us there,” he confirmed, tapping a pouch by his side.
“Who knows, they might not even find the Gate,” said Hasfast optimistically.
“I think they will tear the place apart looking; they will find it my friend.”
“Then we will have let the Demon Prince access to North Everinstar to do with as he pleases,” Hasfast looked down seemingly dismayed.
“I still hope that Ichshoos will not have abandoned us; I know they won a great battle at Morgul. I’m sure that they will press their advantage.”
“I am less convinced, Reshgarin, if we had not let your sons escape, then I might be more confident; who knows what deals they have done.” “I am grateful that the Council warned us before things got a lot worse. At least their sons and brothers are still with me, and your brothers stand by your side,” Reshgarin nodded to two heavily armoured dwarves standing nearby. “We have bought time for the Prime, at least.” “That we…”
Suddenly a thunderous crash emanated from the iron door before them; swiftly followed by a second, then a third and the stone around the door began to crumble.
“Here we go!” shouted Hasfast, “For Athena!” With that, the door fell inwards, smashed off of its hinges.
Before the group stood an abomination. Over fifteen feet tall and wreathed in fowl smelling vapours stood a Demon. Its exoskeleton was covered in blood – its or another creature’s was hard to tell. The beast’s head was a monstrous humanoid skull from which sprouted great horns. Burning eyes pierced the dark and massive skeletal hands - the fingers of which were capped with huge, razor-sharp talons – raked the air before it, producing neon sparks and purple flames. Immediately a dwarf to Hasfast’s right turned to stone and another fell on his knees begging for mercy. Fire suddenly engulfed the room, before the occupants had time to react, more fell and others struggled to extinguish the blaze that once was their clothing.
Hasfast was the fastest, darting forward he smashed his hammer into the beat’s chest. Reshgarin swung the halberd from his back and in one move cleaved the creature’s left arm clean from its body. Others joined the melee, firing crossbows, throwing spears, hammers, axes and javelins. Magic filled the air: fireballs, flame strikes, acid rain, noxious clouds and bright rainbows appeared out of the ether.
The Demon struck and grabbed Hasfast’s neck with his good arm, choking him as its talons pierced the skin between helm and neck guard, while his minions funnelled into the room. Each lesser creature resembled an undead warg, with strips of hide plastered randomly over a black skeletal frame. Bounding into the room in pairs, they engaged - biting and ramming. More of the occupants fell, yet the battle raged.
Reshgarin was not so lucky with his halberd a second time, as the creature understood its danger and ensured Hasfast was between them; so he dropped the polearm and hurled an axe, striking the demon’s chest. The axe exploded on contact discharging a burst of electricity throughout its torso, but with little effect. “I don’t think electricity works,” shouted Reshgarin.
“Get it off my neck!” gurgled Hasfast, clawing at its fist and turning purple.
“I’m trying!”
The Demon swung Hasfast at his friend smashing into his left and knocking him to the floor, “Arrrg!” they both cried in unison. An axe suddenly smashed into the Demon’s remaining arm forcing it to drop Hasfast. Its wielder had just felled an undead warg and charged into the fray alongside his companions. Hasfast rolled away from the demon as it tried to grasp him again which bought time for Reshgarin to regain his feet. The axe missed the second time and its wielder felt the demon’s power: at the wrong end of a green ray of light that appeared just in front of the beast and struck the dwarf in the chest, disintegrating on contact.
Reshgarin drew another axe and hurled it into the Demon, striking its chest once again. This time fire erupted as it struck, but the creature just laughed. “Fire doesn’t work either!”
A searing, yellow light filled the room, momentarily blinding Fawn and its occupants. The demon was stunned, two wargs exploded and the others fled. “Smash it!” shouted Hasfast. All those who remained standing drove their weapons into the great beast, knocking it to the floor, where Reshgarin sliced its skull from its torso with one clean blow from his retrieved Halberd. Silence.
“What next?” cried Reshgarin, regaining his breath, “Is that all you have,” he mocked the darkness.
His question went unanswered for a moment; then they heard it. A slow, deep moan travelled into the room on the hot air, filling all with dread. Trembling, one of the occupants asked what it was, but got no answer. Hasfast, stood again next to his friend, said shakily, “I cannot do that again.”
“I know, my friend. My powers are also almost spent.”
The moan got louder and was joined with other voices: snarling, growling, hissing and shrieking. Then silence.
“Here we go again,” said Hasfast, hefting his axe.
Then a white light burst out, illuminating the passage before the crypt, down which a multitude of undead funnelled. The light was followed with all manner of explosive dweomer: fire, frost, lightning, and energy waves. Above the cacophony, a female voice could be heard, “For Odin, Father of All!” {sounds like Milai?}}
“For Zeus and Athena,” Hasfast answered, charging the foe, just a step ahead of his friends.