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 Chapter 8: Part 3: Arrow Storm

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Red Blizzard

Posts : 164
Join date : 2011-05-30
Age : 25
Location : Elsewhere

PostSubject: Chapter 8: Part 3: Arrow Storm   Tue Jun 14, 2011 11:49 pm

Fire died, and nobody had any time to mourn his death, for in that moment, the world exploded into a flurry of activity. Saint spun around to see Fire’s body slump to the ground, an arrow neatly through the head. Then a foot came down, taking advantage of the cracks in Fire’s skull, separating the skull at the point of weakest resistance, sending fragments of it scattering in all directions. Later on, Fire’s body would be nearly unidentifiable. All that was left of his face was his jaw. They would have to refer to his blood-splattered white robes, trimmed with blue and shot with runes, in order to determine that it was indeed him who had once inhabited the now-headless corpse.

Saint looked up at Fire’s killer, staring into an eye and a glowing dot. The dot belonged to a hole in a head where a second eye socket used to exist, but had been torn apart by an arrow roughly shoved into the skull by a gauntleted hand. The skull belonged to what was once a man, skin now grey and rotting, with the stubble of a beard turned white when the color had been sucked out of it. This face was grinning, the flesh stretched unnaturally taut, while the rest of the body was covered in black cloth. The hands were bare except for a pair of vambraces to keep the bones from being pulled apart by the strength required to arch the man’s longbow. One knuckle was spattered with blood, probably from smashing someone’s forehead in. All in all, this apparition looked every bit the grinning, casual undead version of who he once was: Bremen, formerly the eighth strongest mercenary in all of Lore.

“What a boring speech.” Bremen strode forward, nocking another arrow. Saint didn’t bother replying, placing a palm flat against the ground. Lightning shot outwards in a disc of spiderwebbing cracks, charging the earth, but Bremen teleported, and a second later, he was right above Saint’s head, arrow pointing straight down. Saint reacted as fast as he could, leaping out of the way, but the arrow was fired at a speed far too fast to have been humanly possible. It stabbed through Saint’s foot, pinning it to the ground. Then Bremen was behind Saint, pointing an arrow at the back of his head. Saint spun around the best he could, curved daggers out. He parried two arrows, too a third to the shoulder, and knocked away what he could with his good arm. The arrow on his wounded shoulder was joined by three more, blood seeping out and soaking his sleeve.

Saint could feel the pain biting, his vision blurring, tried to resist the urge to sink to one knee and let the feeling envelop him. This guy was too fast, and had way too much magic at his disposal. What kind of necromancer had summoned him? Bremen appeared off to his other side, arrow going for his good arm. Saint ducked, yanking the arrow out of his foot painfully, then made a break for cover. Bremen was there before him, stepping out from behind a tree to meet him. Saint reached out, grasping any last strands of magic, stumbling from the effort, then called down a massive bolt of green lightning. It struck the tree, instantly frying the bark off of it. Several sizzling chunks pelted Bremen before he could react, his teleportation once again launching him into the air over Saint. Recognizing the maneuver, Saint called down several more bolts of lightning, firing some bolts upwards from below as well to finish the job. Too late, he saw the blink.

Bremen became nothing more than a flash of disjointed images, dodging every single one of Saint’s attack. With each stop in his teleportation cycle, Bremen let loose an arrow. By the time Bremen finally alighted on the ground again, some ten feet away, Saint could only stare, then crumple to the ground. Arrows plastered his back, his shoulders, his arms, his legs; they littered the ground around him, forming a scattered field of sticks and barbs and droplets of blood. Saint plucked one arrow out of his body futilely, head sinking to the ground. Surprisingly, thoughts weren’t flashing through his mind. He should be thinking about death maybe, and a little bit about his clan... But nothing came to mind. Poison? Saint hoped not. Of all the ways to die, he didn’t want to go to his grave drooling or giggling or suffering from whatever side-effect that poison might have. He could feel his own heart beat through the earth, steadily getting stronger. Was his heart going to burst? No, those were footsteps. Saint looked up a little, going cross-eyed at the arrow pointing at his nose. But even as he watched, a blurred hand grabbed the arrow, turning the iron head to gloop and the wooden shaft to ash. Saint sat up instantly, electrified by the sight of Dye coming roaring in, trailing flames. Even Bremen seemed momentarily stunned as the chance to kill someone was snatched from him once again. Saint wanted to say something to Dye, but mouth agape, the first thing he could think of was...

“Why are you in your boxers!?!?!?”

Dye turned around and glared. “Shut up! I’m a little busy trying to save you right now, so just sit tight and don’t bleed to death or anything!” Saint couldn’t think of a good reply, contenting himself with just sitting there, watching as Dye turned to take on Bremen. For his part, Bremen was running low on arrows again. He had spent too much trying to take out that last Captain. Now this one was back. Harmless really, unless he chose to stray too close. All the same, He couldn’t harm him with those flames around. Unless...

“Nice boxers.”

“You shut up too!” The flames grew taller. That distraction didn’t work. Bremen did a little more thinking, came up with nothing, and was just getting ready to say something else when something caught his eye. Half turning, he saw a lithe, red form crouching in a tree, eyes gleaming. He spun around, arrow pointing, but the figure knocked the arrow out of his hands with a blast of intense, raw red magic from one of its arms. And that was when Bremen noticed. One arm was white, the other one was black. And both were nothing more than skeletons.

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Chapter 8: Part 3: Arrow Storm
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