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 Chapter 14: Fight!

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Red Blizzard

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

PostSubject: Chapter 14: Fight!   Fri Jun 17, 2011 12:58 am

Author: Red Blizzard

Blizzard swore when he returned to Requiem base that night, having heard what had happened from Saint. Then he charged off into the darkness with a small group of men. He easily found Dye’s base, its campfires flicking gobs of orange light at the trees of a nearby forest. From behind the safety of a tree, Blizzard peered into the camp, the entire base reflected in the wells of his red eyes. Behind him, Edvin remained hidden, not making a sound. Creed kept watch overhead from his perch in a tree, his silver eyes piercing the darkness like a pair of lamps. Of those who remained loyal to Requiem, Fire had flatly refused to come and save Seth, instead staying behind to guard the base with Priest. Not that Blizzard cared. In this case, the less people came, the more he got to fight.


It wasn’t that Seth had given in without a fight. It was that he didn’t stand a chance against two of the strongest captains in Requiem. Dye’s sheer power meant that he didn’t have a chance of laying a finger on him. And should he try to run, Nathan could keep up with his ability to teleport, trapping him. And that was without taking into account the abilities of everyone else in the camp. Even Jacob might have taken him down before he got far. In fact, it had been Jacob who did take him down, nailing him in the side of the head with a giant tuna fish with a nod from Dye. ‘Where did Jake get a tuna?’ and ‘How did he manage to lift it?’ were Seth’s only two thoughts as he fell unconscious. He woke up to find himself chained securely to a post inside one of the tents. A gap in the tent’s entrance flaps let in a sliver of moonlight, which painted a milky white line down Seth’s face. What had Requiem come to? Old rivalries were remembered, new issues were highlighted, talking was scorned, fighting was favored. Seth closed his eyes and imagined the sounds of fighting. Soon, those sounds were all too real.


Unlike Saint, Blizzard wasn’t good at managing large operations. He preferred to work alone, where he knew exactly what he could rely on and what he couldn’t count on happening. With groups, there were always those who failed to carry out orders, who carried out orders but then died, or carried out their orders just moments too late. Blizzard was thankful that he didn’t have to orchestrate this rescue. He shifted slightly as a flutter of wings announced Creed’s descent. He landed lightly next to Blizzard.

“Well, it looks like everything’s ready. It’s a full moon tonight, we should be able to strike hard and fast without falling into too many traps. Should I give Saint the signal?”

“Sure, go ahead.” As Creed sailed off, Blizzard quietly unsheathed a pair of chakrams. It was the first time he was starting a battle without his demon blades, but he didn’t want to take any chances with Requiem’s best rangers on Dye’s side. At that moment, a huge, winged silhouette flew up into the air, blotting out the moon and casting the entire camp into darkness. The reaction was instantaneous: a hail of arrows rose up to meet Creed, but fell short of him. He drew a black scythe and dove downwards into the camp. On the far side, a single strand of silent lightning lit the sky, announcing Saint’s attack, Marcus close behind with him. Blizzard was in among the tents in a blur, chakrams singing through the air around him. Edvin fired a single crystal of ice into the air, announcing his group’s attack, before entering the fray.


Saint’s goal with the all-out attack from all sides was to sow confusion among Dye’s group, demoralizing them and making them more likely to defect back to Requiem. But that was just an added bonus to their true goal of freeing Seth. To this purpose, they had staged a double-diversion. Creed would attack first, seemingly alone, striking fast and hard into the heart of the camp. Saint would move in while this was occurring, unnoticed while everyone’s head was turned the other way. Before anyone bothered to turn around again to look for him, Blizzard would move in with Edvin, drawing all soldiers to the far side, away from Seth’s tent. Creed would head over to meet up, catching most troops in a pincer attack. As he watched Edvin’s crystal sail into the air, Saint smiled. He loved being the clan tactician. While Marcus kept watch, he stealthily made his way over to Seth’s tent, reached over to open the tent flap, and felt a gloved hand clamp down over his mouth. Saint’s green eyes spun around to stare into the helmeted face of Nathan. His expression was halfway between that of a cat playfully toying with a mouse and a judge grimly meting out punishment.

“Saint, your plan was so obvious it made me want to cry.” Level-headed Nathan, who never fell for diversions or ruses. The first of many flaws in Saint’s plan. Saint glanced over, but Marcus was already busy, half-a-dozen arrows embedded in his golden round shield. Bhlewos was charging across the grounds towards him, each armored footstep causing a small earthquake. Marcus erected a golden barrier between him and Bhlewos, which Bhlewos smashed to bits with a massive halberd. Saint could expect no help coming from there. As he felt Nathan’s hands begin to squeeze around his skull, Saint hurriedly tried to think up a way out, cursing himself all the while. So much for being a tactician.


Blizzard tried his best not to kill anyone as he dove into the swarm of enemies. That meant landing a flying kick to Jake’s jaw as he tried to whack Blizzard with his tuna, sending him careening across the entire camp to land in a mulberry bush. That meant enduring an arduous battle with Aeon, deflecting half a dozen blades only to have them come back, and eventually getting stabbed by all of them in various non-critical parts of the body to reach Aeon and knock him out. That meant slicing open Felkaranos’s belly so that his guts spilled out. Well, maybe that was a little overboard. But then again, Felkaranos was a traitor, and he had transformed into an extra-powerful werewolf thanks to the full moon overhead. He would be able to recover from the wound easily, but for the moment, he was occupied with untangling his feet from his own entrails. As Blizzard skipped over the initial defenders, counting those incapacitated but not killed, Blizzard suddenly felt sick. The air around him began to glow and turn a sickly green, the night becoming day, but not quite day. Blizzard’s stomach did somersaults, and he eventually retched. It was in the middle of this act that he was caught.

“Eeew, that’s sooo gross.”

“Hey, you asked for it. Nobody forced you to change the color of this place.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot, he doesn’t like light green.” The twilight faded back to darkness, concealing Blizzard’s sorry state. He was doubled up in agony, vomit steaming in a puddle before him, while his two sisters watched on with a mixture of disgust and glee. This was probably the first time he had ever seen them fighting together. He hoped it would be the last as well. Together, they made a nasty combo.


Creed had it easy. Unlike the others, he could knock out an army of soldiers merely by lifting them all into the air, flipping them all onto their heads, and dropping them five feet. Never mind all the crunching that came along with the given tactic. He had finished an entire quarter of the camp and was just beginning to get bored when a fist made of compacted dirt erupted from the ground and missed him by inches. Creed was already in the air, a wall of air whirling around him. Below, Oblivion smiled grimly as he readied another attack. Zephyr though he may be, Creed was not going to have it easy.


Naturally, Edvin had no one to fight. What with Marcus defending against Bhlewos, Saint being strangled by Nathan, Blizzard being mauled by his sisters, and Creed forced to take flight from Oblivion, there was nobody left for Edvin to worry about. He considered freeing Seth all by himself, but then wondered how the others would react. Then he didn’t wonder any more. He just instinctively wove his way through the camp, locating Seth’s tent, Nathan and Saint struggling in a tight embrace a short distance away. Edvin drew a short sword as a precaution. An instant later, a flaming scimitar cleaved him in two. Dye spat at Edvin’s dead body and treaded over it. Then he heard someone groan. He whirled around to find seven Edvins staring back at him, one doubled over in agony.

“I felt that, Dye. Mind going easy on my minions?” Dye cursed Edvin’s ice-mist clones and charged, flames flickering from his red and black armor. All seven Edvins erected shields of ice, which Dye slammed his scimitar into. And for possibly the first time in his life, Dye was stopped. His scimitar dug into the thick wall of ice, and stuck there, flames trailing weakly from the blade’s edge. Dye frowned, wrenching his scimitar out of the ice and sending a flaming fist smashing into the ice wall. Small cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, but didn’t go far. Inside, Dye felt a numbness as shockwaves of cold traveled up his arm and into his body. He shivered, and his flames wavered. Dye stared through the icy wall at Edvin with a ferocious glare, eyes glowing with hidden embers. Edvin met his stare with one of his own, icy blue eyes meeting Dye’s eyes inch for inch.

“Since when did soldiers like you have the guts to fight your own captains?”

“I may not be a captain Dye, but that doesn’t mean I’m not stronger than you. I’ve grown more powerful over the years. And the reason for all that power is to defeat you.” Edvin drew his signature blade, Frostus Rectar, from his back, and met Dye’s scimitar head-on.

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Chapter 14: Fight!
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