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Interlude: Highlight Reel V
🕑 Added 2021-08-18 15:53:14 +0000 UTCA group of well-armed soldiers is slowly advancing, each of them clad in uniform chain-armour, carrying a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. They move in a well-practised formation, their shields overlapping with spears thrust through the gaps.
Ahead of their formation, throwing rocks and timber at them in an attempt to stop them, a few massive, humanoid beings are waiting, each taller than the advancing soldiers by half their height and twice their girth, their bodies thick with muscle. Just before the line of soldiers crashes into the massive beings, a voice calls out from behind, ordering a volley.
On a dark meadow, four people are quickly moving in formation, a wiry humanoid with a gleaming spear leading the way. From the darkness, a tearing sound is audible and all four stop their movement, forming into a formation with the previous leader flanking a tall, lightly blue-skinned humanoid clad in chain-armour with a shield in one hand, an axe in the other. Behind them, two smaller figures are moving to opposite flanks, keeping their distance. A soft, chanting cadence is heard, though the words are impossible to make out.
Ahead of them, hidden in the shadows of the night, is a monster seemingly escaped from a nightmare. A deformed head, almost as if someone had taken a couple humanoid parts and violently crammed them together with canine parts before adding more teeth than both of them should have together. Large, tree-trunk like arms, with oversized hands and claws that might do double-duty as daggers and are dripping with blood. Finally, legs and hips that seem similarly mis-alinged as the head, only that the figure somehow manages to stand on them, while its claws are busy tearing some poor creature apart. As it realises the approaching figures, it lets out a roar that seemingly causes the mountains around it to shake.
In a thick forest, dimly lit by sunlight filtering through the trees, a loose formation of fighters is making their way towards an unseen goal. The center is composed of heavily armed dwarves, clad in heavy plate-armour and armed with everything from hammers to polearms. The people moving on their flanks are less armoured, some only clad in leather, reinforced with some metal pieces, armour while others are wearing slightly heavier, but much more obvious and audible, chain-armour. Not that stealth is really an option, when traipsing through the forest in a large group.
Behind them an almost unarmed group is protected, their garb more akin to a noble overseeing their lands, or even a simple traveller, with a focus on durability and sturdiness.
Finally, their destination becomes visible for but a moment, a wooded valley, filled with countless black spiders, ranging in size from tiny things, only visible when moving, to things that evoke a primal need to kill them with fire, before they can lay eggs. Only, it is obviously far too late.
With the command to fire, a shower of projectiles, mostly arrows but with a few bolts of magic mixed in, arcs over the soldiers up front, who instantly pick up their pace, turning their slow advance into a sudden charge. While the arrows mostly deflect off the thick hides of their massive foes, a few manage to penetrate into their flesh, though not deep enough to deal any real damage. The magical projectiles face a similar problem, the stone-spears and icicles simply shattering on contact, the only outlier a bolt of lightning that causes charge to dance over the being hit, stunning it for a moment.
But while the lasting damage the projectiles cause is negligible, their primary objective is to act as a diversion, a task they fulfilled perfectly. On their charge, the earlier close formation of soldiers split up, forming four groups of three, one for each of their massive foes. Their spears still leading the way, the soldiers crash into their foes mostly unopposed, without giving them time to brace. Still, only one group manages to truly cause damage to their foe, the group that struck into the one stunned by magic and thus even less able to defend itself than its compatriots. With three spears stabbing deeply into its body, the monstrous form stumbles back, wounded but far from defeated.
With a snarling noise, the misshapen foe leaps forward, the attack brutal in its savagery, trying to tear the incoming blue-skinned fighter apart. Despite the fact that the blue-skinned fighter was taller than her wiry companion by more than a head, the beast stands even taller, towering above her and far outmassing her. Still, as a shimmering, red armour envelops the blue-skinned female, she steps up, ready to block the monster’s charge.
Only, that charge never quite makes it, at least not in the way the monster had planned. Just before it can crash into the female, the darkness next to it twists and for a second, a gleaming blade turns visible, held in the hand of a dark, humanoid outline. Nothing but shadows, but the blade is all too real, striking into the monster’s hamstring, breaking its charge and causing it to stumble, its claws striking the female’s shield, doing nothing but making her stumble back.
In the opening caused by the failed charge, the wiry female stabs her spear into its other leg, while a series of strange icicles, shining with a silver light orbits the creature, darting in to strike at it.
The leading dwarves stop, readying themselves behind their shields, while the unarmed people behind coalesce. Four of them step together, glowing for a moment while one of them holds a scroll that seems to absorb the glow, creating a shining beacon in the dim light of the forest.
“Thunderous Wrath!”
With those words, a magical formation appears above the skittering spiders and countless lightning bolts rain down, crashing into the earth, setting fires and, most importantly, devastating the gathered arachnids. Once the lightning settles, the magic formation fades, the gathered fighters charge in, ready to mop up their remaining eight-legged prey.
“Focus the wounded one!” The same voice that called for the earlier volley, is now ordering the archers and spellcasters to focus on the wounded monster. While the other three groups form defensive formations again, bracing their shields together, allowing them to block the heavy swipes from their massive foes, the three focusing the wounded one take another tactic. The one leading that trio is clad in silver light, stepping up to take a swipe by himself, stumbling back from the hit and taking a knee. Meanwhile his two companions press the attack, driving the monster back, into a position that allows their ranged support to capitalise.
This time, the focused arrow-fire manages to do more than distract the being, even though most arrows only score superficial wounds. One arrow, though, manages to find its mark, guided by either luck, skill or magic. Maybe all three played their part in the perfect shot taking the monster in the eye, causing a roar of pain to echo as it rears back, making an opening that the two unharmed soldiers take, one stabbing their spear upwards, into its neck, the other driving their spear into its chest.
The roar cuts off, turning into a whistling noise as the spear tears through its windpipe and moments later, the great beast staggers backwards, while the soldiers take their distance, to not get caught up in its death throes.
The monster tries to overcome the female warrior again and again, clashing with her shield even as she uses her axe to strike, trying to score a lasting wound. But, thanks to the constant attacks from the female’s allies, the monster is unable to truly focus. Still, none of their attacks seems to actually hurt it, the wounds quickly stopping to bleed, not hindering it in the slightest.
Until one of the figures in the back creates a glowing, magical formation and blood red symbols shine from beneath the beast’s pelt and its movement becomes sluggish, slow and weak. An opening none of the attackers miss, even the blades held by darkness make another appearance, strike into the beast but at that moment, the beast proves that it is no mere beast, glowing red in a jagged, crude mockery of the red armour enveloping the female fighter who had given it such trouble. With nary a swat, it manages to force that figure back, making an opening it instantly takes, moving at blinding speed towards the one in the back, who still has the magical formation float in front of her.
Its claws tear through the formation and the figure behind it, only that the figure isn’t tossed away like a ragdoll, like she should be, instead the claws move through her, causing trails of dark mist to waft away, before the whole figure disappears, like smoke in the wind.
A deep, bone-rattling roar comes from the largest of the monsters and with a massive swipe, it manages to break through the shield-wall the three soldiers had used to hold it back, causing all three of them to tumble back. The two remaining allies close in, barely keeping the monster from finishing off their shaken allies. Both are surrounded in the silver glow their leader had used before, and still, they need to work together to block the beast’s attacks.
“Stand together!” their leader orders in a loud voice, and the silver glow turns brighter, with strands of brass woven through it. The three shaken soldiers rally, joining their formation with the formation of their allies, to keep them from getting overwhelmed. Behind them, the leader shouts another order and moments later, the spell-casters who had held back before unleash their stored power, striking the largest monster, right before another volley rains down on it, though without another perfect shot.
But while the arrows prove less effective, a crack of thunder signals another lightning-attack and this time, too, there is an opening caused by the stunning power of the lightning. An opening that is exploited by a lance, held by their leader charging in on a large roan horse.
His lance pierces through the thick hide, shattering bones and tearing organs in the process, before he is past, leaving it stuck in the beast's chest. While it is dying, it is not dead yet. With a savagery born of its impending demise, it strikes the leader’s horse, causing the leader to tumble through the air, while the horse goes down in a heap of broken bones.
Join us, or you all might fall.
On the Road to Purgatory.
