It was slightly humid when the sun set that evening. The tension was growing in the camp as sixof its members started to walk away from the rows of tents and soldiers. They’d been waiting for this moment for two days, although they knew it had been coming for several weeks. With they’re tense, anxious expressions, one might have thought they had been waiting their entire life for what they were about to do. Indeed, it did seem that fate had brought them together for several undertakings that normal men would never have considered. Garrett, Sarann, and Borik, for example, met by chance but not without purpose, for within a few months they had conspired to, and successfully assassinated a king and replaced him with a human monk named Shaol – a man who claimed he had a destiny to fulfill. Simon had joined the party after their first meeting, and refused to kill a king, but he had played an important role in teaching Borik the ways of the Cleric and provided the rest of the group guidance at times. Rosyntal, now a gnome, had joined the party an elf, seeking to prove himself worthy of being one of the great sorcerors of the world. Charlotte had been adopted by the group when they were visited another world, and since then she had proven a most valuable fighter using the very rare fighting style of two bladed gauntlets, a style used only by one other person, the man… no, the being that they knew they would face in a few moments – Feldin.
Sarann informed the group that the moon would be rising in a few minutes as he shifted one of the many short swords on his belt to a more accessible spot. Garrett looked up and noted that Sarann’s flaming red hair perfectly matched the horizon of the blazing sunset. He kept the comment to himself as he began preparations for all the spells he would be casting in a moment. Garrett had been studying the arcane ways since his first visit to the World City. He hadn’t completely given up his love for the shadows, but he had become quite an accomplished wizard. Borik took the opportunity to sharpen both his axes and carefully place each where he could retrieve them quickly and easily. He also polished his holy symbol and spent a minute rebraiding his thick dwarven beard and tucking it into his belt so that it wouldn’t get in the way.
The tension in the air grew exponentially with every passing minute and soon every spellcaster in the party began chanting, moving, or praying as they cast every spell they could think would help them in advance. Just as Garrett finished casting his fly spell for Simon, the moon touched the horizon and Sarann cleared his voice and spoke, “It is time.”
Borik drew his dwarven war axe and Sarann drew his magical long sword and short sword as everyone walked towards him and put a hand on either his back or shoulder. In a flash the world moved past their eyes. Sarann was using his divine gift of travel to take them to where their foes awaited them.
As the world stopped in front of the seven of them, it did not reveal surprised or stunned opponents like they had planned. Instead, there were two dozen fireballs traveling towards them. The party did their best to recover from being shocked and tried to scatter. The largest ball of flame, which was undoubtedly a fireball spell, crashed into the ground where they had appeared but had missed everyone. The other fireballs were tracking in on specific people and Sarann, Borik, and Charlotte each took one in the chest. The other balls of flame missed and crashed into the ground.
The flashes of fire lit up the field and it was obvious that these assassins were prepared. Five of them stood in an arc – a human man with a shaved head and tattoos all over his body holding a glaive, an elven woman with a rapier in one hand and her other hand on the hilt of a sheathed sword on her belt, a very child-like Halfling twirling an odd forked stick, a human-ish looking woman holding a doubled bladed sword and two long swords in her four hands, and a tiny creature about a foot and a half tall who just happened to be flaked on both sides by nine foot tall, undead ogres. The sixth member of the group was a winged creature that was flying about ten feet off the ground above the center of the arc, his hands in rapid motion.
Garrett saw the flying creature motioning and quickly realized another fireball was incoming soon. He gave a quick shout to Rosyntal to prepare to counter the incoming spell, and then he flew towards the Halfling that was preparing to cast a spell into the group. Borik, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline from the start of any battle rushed forward to meet whatever foe he first crossed. Charlotte followed Borik and they both met the tattooed man in the middle of the battle field. For just a moment they stood there looking at each other, and then the glaive swung and met Charlotte’s bladed gauntlets, which shattered the glaive. Borik moved in to make quick work of the unarmed man, but to his surprise, the weapon reformed itself in the hands of its wielder.
Simon, using the gift of flight Garrett had given him, flew upwards and turned his attention to the undead ogres. The undead were his sworn enemy and he raised his holy symbol and shouted towards the creatures, but to his surprise, they were not turned. Whereas any undead creature should now be harmless, these two were not affected by his power. With much confusion, he flew towards the undead to take care of them with his own hands.
Sarann did not move after his initial dodge, but instead stood still and concentrated. The tip of his sword caught fire, and the fire began to quickly spread down his sword. Within a few seconds, the flames had enveloped Sarann. With the powers of his sword activated, Sarann began again to concentrate, but this time was different. Sarann summoned all of his rage, his anger, and every other raw emotion he could manage. He let it pour through his veins and consume him. A strong wind swept across the battle field coming from all directions inward towards Sarann, his flaming red hair now standing on end. His muscles bulged and grip on his swords tightened as his divine wrath took him. In a small explosion of motion, his pouch that he had worn on his stomach for the past four years flew away from him and two more arms flew forward and the two exposed hands drew short swords.
The entire battlefield turned towards him, friends and foes alike stood in wonder a short moment at this sight. Not even his closest companions had known he had four arms, but right now, rather than thinking of him as a mutant, they found courage and inspiration and fought harder. His foes, especially the woman who thought she would be the only one wielding more than two swords today, found themselves afraid.
Turning back to the battle, Garrett found himself face-to-face with the childish halfling and his forked stick. He had little fear of any weapon at this point. His stoneskin spell would protect him for any weapon except one that had been magically enhanced to the max – five times better than normal. He prepared to cut the throat of the halfling, but before he could get into position, he heard a childlike voice singing, “Say hello to my Hoopak!” Garrett hesitated just long enough to say out loud, “What the hell’s a hoopak?” before he found out. That odd looking stick struck him across the face and Garrett felt the world around him darken momentarily. His senses came back to him as he tried to fly away and he realized that he had nearly died by a maximally magically enhanced hoopak.
A brilliant flash of energy lit up the field again as Rosyntal and the flying creature each cast fireball spells, which collided in mid-air, flashed brightly, and then fizzled to nothing.
Borik was still waiting for a chance to advance on the man with the glaive when he scanned the battlefield and noticed the woman with the rapier advancing on him. He held out a hand and spoke a few divine words. The ground around her parted and stone from beneath the surface shot upwards and surrounded the girl. A moment later, the stone had been shaped into a sphere which completely encapsulated the woman. Borik smiled widely and thanked Moradin, the dwarf god, and then turned his attention back to the man with the tattoos that had just reformed another glaive after Charlotte had just shattered his second one.
Simon swooped down on the large undead ogres, and taking off his gloves, he revealed his solid metallic hands. He recalled all of his monk training and punched at the chest of the closest undead ogre. The punch, which surely would have stunned even the best human fighter, slipped right through the ogre with no resistance at all. Simon realized that these ogres were just illusions. He moved to strike the tiny necromancer only to find that his punches passed through him as well.
The four armed woman looked into the eyes of Sarann, whose hair was billowing in the wind, and noticed his smiled. She tried to figure out what he was smiling about when he disappeared. She barely had time to register this though when a sword pierced her back and she spun to face her attacker. Sarann was raising all of his arms for an onslaught of attacks, and the woman took that opportunity to strike. Her blades moved faster than the wind and she had struck Sarann six times in as many seconds. Sarann, trying to focus through the pain unleashed his attacks. Twelve times his blades cut through the air, and eight of those swings cut deeply into his opponent. Sarann took a small step backwards and took a deep breath. Both he and the woman were bleeding profusely from several deep gashes, but he didn’t have time to think about it before she raised her swords and closed the gap between them.
With a few quick words, the halfling cast a blurring spell and suddenly Garrett found himself looking at what looked like a very smeared oil painting of a child. A thought crossed Garrett’s mind and he smiled as he stepped back and drew a scroll out of a pouch in his vest. A moment later and he had cast a dispel magic spell on the halfling and the blurred edges began to clear. Garrett also noted that the halfling’s body shifted five feet to the right. Apparently he had been using a displacement spell as well.
Another glaive shattered, but before the tattooed man could reform it, Borik found time to step forward and cleave a great axe into the chest of the man who stumbled backwards and looked down in horror. Turning, he began to run towards the four-armed woman for protection despite her being locked in battle with Sarann.
Another brilliant explosion lit the area as two more fireballs collided above the fight, and in the light Simon noticed the metallic flashes from all the swords near Sarann. He decided to abandon the illusions of the undead and flew as fast as he could towards Sarann.
Another flurry of swords came from both Sarann and his opponent – blood being thrown from the swords on every swing. Sarann raised his upper arms to finish his opponent, but the blow never came. The wind that had been blowing towards Sarann died away, and the flames that had been covering his body drifted away into the night, the last wisps fading silently away as his eyes glazed and unfocused from the double bladed sword that was currently stuck into his heart. His last thoughts were off his faithful horse and loyal dog as his body was struck four more times and slowly slid off the sword in his chest.
Casting the first spell he could think of, Simon blasted divine power towards the woman who had just slain Sarann, and he successfully knocked her off her feet and slammed her into the ground. The tattooed man had reached her, however, and he pulled her to her feet seconds before Borik’s great ax severed his spine. Charlotte stepped up to challenge Sarann’s killer when she felt life drain out of her right leg. The distraction was costly as the swordswoman brought her full attention to bear on Charlotte. A few seconds later Charlotte lay dying in the blood covered grass. Simon flew in and dragged Charlotte’s body away from the woman and called on his goddess as he pumped divine energy into her body and hoped he wasn’t too late.
It was Borik’s turn and he welcomed his death, but instead of stepping forward, the dwarf took a step backwards. The swordswoman was sure she had scared him off and was about to turn her attention to the cleric when she noticed the dwarf put his great axe back on his belt and drew out a dwarven waraxe. She paused to watch and to her amazement, from almost 30 feet away, he threw the axe. She tried to move to the side, but didn’t have any time. The axe hit her above the elbow of her upper left arm and completely severed the arm. She was trying to overcome her shock and getting ready to step forward and kill him when she saw the axe fly over her head and return to the hand of the dwarf. She was trying to figure this one out when she saw the axe leave the dwarf’s hand again. She watched it flip end-over-end towards her. She watched its beautiful arc and the glitter of the dwarven metal as it reflected another explosion overhead. She watched the axe right up until it effortlessly split her skull into two neat pieces and spiraled beautifully back to the outstretched hand of the smiling dwarf.
Meanwhile, Garrett had returned to the art of the shadow and had used a series of feints to confuse the kinder right before he buried a short sword in his child-like chest. Looking up he saw several bodies on the ground and his heart fell as he noticed Sarann and Charlotte were among the fallen. His heart then jumped and fell as he saw Sarann rise and then realized it was same way he had seen a dead orc be raised by necromancer in Antara’s world. He tried to scream to warn Borik, whose back was to the undead Sarann, but before he could, he was engulfed in flames. The flying creature was flying above him with his jaw open and a few lingering flames issuing from his mouth. Rosyntal, finally himself able to cast an offensive spell rather than a counterspell hit the flying humanoid with a lightning bold he had augmented with fire and more electricity. The creature’s wings folded and it fell from the air and hit the ground with a satisfying thud.
Garrett noticed a smile on the green-skinned elf trapped in a gnome and let him enjoy himself for a moment before he shook him violently and pointed at the new undead Sarann who was now, much to Garrett’s horror, being joined by an undead, four-armed swordswoman. Garrett screamed, “Boom-Boom, fry ‘em!” and Rosyntal raised his hands and another augmented lightning bolt flew forward and hit both the undead bodies. Both of them dropped to the ground, Sarann’s body at the feet of Borik and the other body next to Simon.
Simon had saved Charlotte and was helping her up when Borik felt life drain out of his leg and he yelled, “Something bit me.” Charlotte noted Borik holding his leg and commented that the same thing had happened to her. Simon began to put things together – the illusions of the ogres and the necromancer, the obvious inflict wounds spells and the fact that the necromancer was only a foot and a half tall. He stood up and cast invisibility purge, and with no surprise at all, a tiny necromancer appeared next to Borik. Simon simply pointed, and Borik looked down and jumped to find a person standing almost under him. The creature waved his hands and a ball of fire appeared next to Borik and he had to jump out of the way to keep it from rolling over him.
The next few seconds were almost funny to Garrett. He watched a dwarf running around to stay out of the way of a flaming sphere while Simon and Charlotte tried to kill a creature so small that they had to bend completely over just to hit it. Garrett was just opening his mouth to laugh when he heard Rosyntal’s voice, very low and very shaken, just over his shoulder. “No…” Rosyntal said and then he began speaking in arcane words and gesturing. Something in the back of Garrett’s mind was triggered and it followed the equation to its conclusion and realized Rosyntal was trying to cast fire orb, a powerful spell from a circle of magic Garrett hadn’t unlocked yet. Garrett scanned the field searching for whatever caused Rosyntal’s alarm and found it standing about 20 feet away — a charred figure with one wing leaning against a small tree and gesturing wildly. The same trigger in the back of Garrett’s mind went off and he realized that the creature would finish the spell before Rosyntal had time to counter. Apparently Rosyntal came to this same conclusion because just then he stopped mumbling and moving. Garrett stood there looking into the crazed eyes of his soon-to-be murderer and he accepted his fate as fifteen spheres of three different kinds of energy came hurling at him. Garrett noted that the creature even took care to augment the spell. Again he heard Rosyntal’s voice from behind him, but this time with much more urgency the gnome spoke the same single word, “No…” Garrett felt his legs come out from under him and gnomish feet run across his back, but they never made it completely in front of him. Garrett heard the sound of 15 distinct impacts and then he felt something run down his cheek. He knew without looking that it was probably the biggest piece of Rosyntal anyone would ever find. Without standing up, Garrett reached through the warm goo that was now puddling around him into a pouch on his belt. He found a scroll there and he brought it close to his face and whispered the words for his spell. The parchment disappeared and so did Garrett. He rolled over several times before he stood up and began looking around. He found his target leaning against the same tree. He approached quietly. A night owl swooping in for a kill on an unsuspecting mouse made more sound than Garrett did. With his invisibility spell and his stealthy moves, the slightly charred creature leaning against the tree never heard nor saw the blade that slit its throat.
Garrett looked up and saw that back in the field Simon, Borik, Charlotte, and Sarann were all gathered around the stone sphere Borik had fashioned around the one girl in the first few moments of the fight. He began walking toward them trying to figure out if the Sarann he saw now was undead or not when he heard the very distinct sound of a neck being broken. He ran around where he could see and there, only a few feet away from the rest of the group was Feldin. He stood six feet tall and his slicked back hair could be seen in the moonlight. From Garrett’s angle Feldin’s cloak hid his bright orange, sleeveless vest and dark purple pants.
Borik, Simon, Charlotte, and Sarann (now back from the dead) had watched helplessly as Feldin had twisted the girl’s neck – the girl who 30 seconds before had been pulled from the concrete and had agreed not to fight – the girl who had drawn a very magical sword against Feldin and swung over 20 times in 6 seconds only to miss all but once. Now, having killed the necromancer, and having their last opponent killed for them, the party was at last face-to-face with the archenemy: Feldin. Borik began casting protection spells on himself just inches out of Feldin’s reach. Oddly enough, Feldin did not seem to be attacking. He was having too much fun taunting. Garrett began to move very quietly to a spot directly behind Feldin. He sat down and quickly exchanged his boots of springing and striding for his boots of Elvenkind. Borik cast another spell in preparation for his fight with Feldin. Charlotte, Simon, and Serann were waiting for someone else to make the first move. Garrett closed his eyes and without saying a word cast his spell truestike. He had memorized this spell silently just for this very moment. He removed the two arrows of undead slaying from his backpack. He knew that if he fired the arrows at Feldin, his monk instincts would react and deflect the arrows from their path. As such, these arrows had to be hand delivered to their target. He only hoped they would be powerful enough for something so full of wretched, evil, necromantic energy as Feldin. Borik cast another spell on himself and grabbed his great axe out of his belt. Garrett made even less noise than before and began to creep towards Feldin. His attention was momentarily directed towards a light coming towards them from the east at an unnatural speed.
Garrett slowly stepped forward and grasping the arrow firmly in his hand swung at Feldin. Feldin, who was in the middle of another taunt was caught completely unaware of the attack, and the arrow went deep into his side. He felt a shiver run through his body. Garrett, seeing that one arrow wasn’t enough slammed the other arrow into Feldin’s other side. Remarkably enough, the second arrow also pierced Feldin’s thick skin. Feldin felt another shiver run through his body, and he pulled both arrows out of his body as the wounds began to heal themselves.
The entire party was prepared to battle to their death when a blazing light came into the clearing they had been fighting in. It was a man, and he looked like he was completely aflame, his body covered in bright yellow flames. Feldin had to cover his eyes as the man in flames came closer. A familiar voice spoke, “I realize now that my destiny was not to rule the Human kingdom…” It was Shaol. “But instead, it was to fight this demon, who killed my master many years ago. Feldin, I am now immune to your life draining touch. Come and let us find out which one of us is truly the better.”
There was total silence on the field until Feldin drew his bladed gauntlets from behind his back with a lingering metallic ring. Shaol stepped up and the fight that followed was the single most intense fight ever witnessed in Odaroloc. It lasted 30 minutes, during which only Feldin and Shaol moved as they danced around a 10 foot circle with moves so perfectly matched that it seemed choreographed, if not for the bone-shattering intensity behind every strike that hit its intended target. After 30 minutes, Shaol made a critical mistake. He turned his attention to one of the fighters that the fight had come too near and Feldin stepped underneath him and plunged both bladed gauntlets into his stomach and lifted Shaol up off the ground. “You see, “ Feldin said coolly, “I am the better man. I have killed you.” Shaol’s head pulled up and looked Feldin in the eyes and said, “I let you.” And with lightning speed, he reached out, took hold of Feldin’s head, and snapped his neck.
Shaol dropped to the ground as Feldin turned into a thick gas and began to float away. Borik was the first to move and he began to chase the cloud and called to the others, “Come on! We can follow it and kill him once and for all!” Shaol intervened before they could all follow Borik. “No, Master Dwarf,” he said, “Feldin is my concern now. I’ll chase him down and kill him a few times before I completely rid our world of his presence. Let me explain…” and with that, Simon the Cleric, Borik the Dwarf, Charlotte the off-worlder, Sarann the mutant, and Garrett the Illusionist set off towards the encampment with Shaol the Human King, Monk Master, and Hunter of the one and only Vampire: Feldin.