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    Origins Of The Silver Wolf: A Light In The Dark, Part Five
    Posted on Tue, July 30, 2013 by Ullmaster
    CruelSummerLord writes "

    At that moment, the seven people walking down the corridor all shared the same desire.

    To make the monsters pay with blood. 

    Seline had tried to slow her descent by holding her staff out against the walls of the pit, but to her surprise she was not falling. Rather, she was sliding, having been dropped by the pit trap into a smooth stone slide that was taking her to the gods only knew where. The traps were not meant to kill, she realized, but rather to divide any invading forces so they could be more easily killed.

    That was hardly a comforting thought to the young wizard.

    Finally, she landed on her feet in a room of worked stone, with torches on the wall. Looking around in alarm, Seline was surprised to see Revafour glancing over his shoulder at her, his huge sword in his hands.

    “They were waiting for us,” he muttered darkly, “and we fell for it.” His exposed face was still red from the scalding steam, and Seline doubted she was much different. She still felt as though she had been boiled alive, shaking her head as she tried to block out the pain.

    “Do you know what happened to the others?” Seline asked him.

    “They probably fell through some of the other pit traps,” Revafour muttered, looking back at the door. “Damn it all! They knew we were coming and they prepared for us.”

    “It’s not over yet,” Seline reminded him determinedly. “If we have to do it alone, then-“

    “You don’t need to tell me that,” Revafour said reproachfully, glancing around the room. He swallowed once, as though his throat was dry. His voice was ice-cold, as was the look in his eyes, and for a moment Seline felt a chill of fear run down her spine.

    “I will-“ Revafour muttered, before the door at the other end of the room burst open and several large figures stormed in. Two of them were ugly, hulking things almost ten feet tall, with dull yellow skin and bright glinting eyes. Clad in crudely stitched hide clothing, they each carried a thick club ringed with sharp, cruel spikes. Neither Seline nor Revafour needed any reminder of what ogres looked like, having crossed paths with the foul creatures more than once.

    The figure that had come in behind the ogres, and who now came between them to stand at the lead, was a different matter. He resembled nothing so much as an oversized human, for all that he was nine feet tall and bore an impossibly large moustache. He reeked of alcohol, his nose was reddened from excessive drinking, and his armor and clothes were stained with beer and wine. His eyes also seemed somewhat odd, as his left one was lower than it should have been and his right one higher. It didn’t take Revafour or Seline long to recognize him as a verbeeg, one of the smallest races of giants, for all that they were just as cruel and spiteful as many of their larger relatives.

    “Jus’ the two of you?” the verbeeg sneered his voice thick with alcohol, as he hefted his axe in his hand. “Whadda letdown. Maybe I shouldn’a brought Plughugh-Bumpahnood’d be quite enough, I suppose. Hell, I coulda taken ya both myself!” he burst out laughing, as his moustache twitched weirdly.

    Glancing back at Seline, Revafour gestured with his head to an alcove in the wall to their left. Slowly, she began inching towards it, alarmed by the look in Revafour’s eyes.

    “You think it’s that easy, do you?” Revafour replied, hefting his sword in front of him. “Then why don’t you try and see?” he said, his voice never losing its icy calm.

    “Oh, we will!” the verbeeg laughed triumphantly. “Plughugh, Bumpahnood, kill’em!” he ordered.

    “Aye, Humding!” the two ogres leered, as they charged forward.

    Seline now ran full-out for the alcove, managing to reach it just before Revafour sprang over and stepped in front of her, preventing the ogres or the verbeeg Humding from reaching her. Reaching within herself, she began chanting, knowing that Revafour was badly outnumbered.

    If he felt any fear, though, he did not show it.

    In truth, Revafour wanted to laugh. There were only three of them, after all-and they thought that they could attack a Tenha warrior? What kinds of fools were they? He heard Seline chanting behind him, and he might have told Seline not to bother, but his throat was already too dry. He felt the battle-lust rising within him.

    Bumpahnood charged in first, swinging his club down at Revafour, but the Flan warrior easily swung his sword up to deflect it. The huge broadsword seemed like an extension of his arms, swung with practiced speed as Revafour brought it down. He tore a long gash in the ogre’s arm, his sword continuing on to cleave into the ogre’s chest. Gasping in pain, the monster stumbled back, its hide pants suddenly dark with blood, as Plugugh came in from the side. Revafour quickly dodged it and struck back before Plughugh could get his defenses in line, forcing the ogre to stumble back before the sword clove him in two.

    “You call that an attack?” Humding goaded his minions, the booze on his breath even reaching Revafour and Seline, although he made no move yet to join the fray himself. “Are you ogres, or halflings?”

    That taunt enraged Plughugh and Bumpahnood, and they charged once more at Revafour. However, the rolling sphere of fire that suddenly flashed to life caught them off guard, badly burning their legs. Plughugh swatted at it, but the sphere rolled away and came at him again from behind, scorching him again. Bumpahnood charged ahead on his own, bringing his club down in a brutal strike, but Revafour’s sword was there to meet it. Stubbornly refusing to give in, Revafour held his own against the ogre’s superior strength, before he suddenly gave way and leapt off to the side. Caught off guard, Bumpahnood stumbled forward, and Revafour’s sword came down immediately, taking his head from his shoulders.

    Seeing his opportunity, Plugugh came in with his club, slamming Revafour across the back and causing the Flan warrior to stumble. Quickly following up his advantage, Plugugh dodged Revafour’s next strike and hit him again, but he was forced to let up his assault when Seline’s flaming sphere burned him once more. The mage directed her sphere to roll up Plugugh’s legs, causing him to howl in pain as he lost his advantage. It didn’t take Revafour, now fully caught up in his battle rage, long to recover and strike back, this time hacking Plugugh nearly in two.

    Revafour barely had time to catch his breath before Humding suddenly charged in, tearing into Revafour’s abdomen with his axe. Seline managed to burn him with her flaming sphere, but then Humding suddenly stomped and snuffed it out. As Revafour reeled from his latest wound, Humding kicked him aside and stepped towards Seline, who now found herself trapped in the alcove.

    “And wha’do you think yer magic can do, lil’ one?” he grinned wickedly, briefly licking some of Revafour’s blood off his axe. “D’you think you can stop me in time?” he leered, as he charged in to strike her down.

    Expecting Seline to cast a spell, Humding did not expect her to stick her staff out to trip him. Stumbling over her weapon, Humding fell to his knees as Seline quickly darted past him. Turning around, she hastily chanted a second spell, causing a series of magical bolts to blast into him and causing the verbeeg to cry in pain.

    No longer amused, Humding sprang to his feet. Murder was in his eyes as he turned around and charged at Seline, raising his axe, but now Revafour had gotten to his feet. Stepping between Humding and Seline, he deflected the giant’s axe with his sword, before striking back with a lethal riposte that tore deep into the giant’s torso, eventually catching the blade on his spine.

    Howling in pain, Humding collapsed dead as Revafour planted a foot on the giant’s chest and pulled his sword free. Weary from his injuries, he staggered as Seline ran up to him in concern. Hastily reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a bottle of dark-blue crystal. Quickly opening it, she poured the contents down Revafour’s throat. He felt a wonderful soothing sensation as the bleeding began to stop, and even the scalding burns on his skin began to fade. Finally, he caught his breath as Seline went to retrieve her staff.

    “Are you alright?” she asked him in concern, still alarmed by the dangerous look in his eyes. To her relief, she saw the look fading away as Revafour began to calm down.

    “I…I’ll live,” he nodded slowly, as he wiped his sword on Humding’s corpse. “And you?” he asked.

    “Don’t worry about me,” Seline nodded, although she winced in spite of herself from the scalding of the steam. “I’m more worried about the others.”

    “They probably fell down some of the same pits we did,” Revafour pointed out brusquely as he headed for the door. “We won’t find them just by staying here.”

    Seline quickly followed, although the worries she had felt about the look in Revafour’s eyes continued to linger at the back of her mind. 

    “Damned clever pit trap,” Amyalla muttered, as she and Weimar looked around the room the slide had dropped them into. “The orcs probably rigged it like this so they could divide and kill their foes more easily.”

    “The old divide-and-conquer trick,” Weimar noted. “They wouldn’t do lethal traps, of course-why would they when they could fight invaders on their own terms?”

    “And yet we don’t have anyone here to welcome us,” Amyalla muttered suspiciously as she looked around. Torches flickered on the walls, and a large iron door was fitted into one wall, but the room seemed otherwise empty. There were no tripwires or pressure plates on the floor that she could see, so the walls…

    “What do you know?” Weimar asked her, tightening his grip on his battleaxe.

    “The walls,” Amyalla murmured, only half-listening to Weimar. “Do you have a lantern?” she asked him after a moment. “I need the extra light for a better look.”

    Nodding, Weimar set down his axe and shield to retrieve the lamp from his backpack. He handed it to Amyalla, who lit it as Weimar retrieved his axe and shield.

    “Keep your eyes on the door,” Amyalla instructed Weimar as she walked around the perimeter of the room, examining each wall in turn. Finally, she came to the door itself, and studied it carefully.

    “They think they’re clever,” Amyalla said, more to herself than to Weimar, and reached into one of the pouches hanging from her belt. Retrieving a set of lockpicks, she immediately set to work on the door, concentrating intently as she set Weimar’s lantern down next to her. She worked for several minutes, before she stepped back and nodded for Weimar to take the lead. She put her tools back in her belt pouch as Weimar reached out to open the door.

    “What were you talking about?” Weimar asked Amyalla as they set off down the dimly lit corridor. Weimar led the way with Amyalla following close behind, the lantern in one hand and a dagger in the other.

    “Some of the stones in the walls of that room were actually thin panels with spears behind them,” Amyalla explained. “There was a device in the door that would cause the spears to fire if the door was opened. I managed to disconnect it from the door before I had you open it.”

    Weimar only harrumphed at that.

    “What, you’re not grateful that I just saved you from being impaled?” Amyalla asked ironically.

    “Of course I am,” Weimar shot back, peering into the gloom ahead. “I’m just offended that they didn’t send any of their minions to greet us.”

    “Oh, I’m sure we’ll get our chance,” Amyalla reminded him. “The torches down here aren’t well maintained-it’s likely that they don’t come into this part of the complex much, and they deliberately rearmed the traps. Speaking of which, you’ll want to stop moving.”

    “What?” Weimar asked in alarm, as he glanced down the corridor. He cursed as he saw the tripwires ahead of him.

    “Anything else in your bag of tricks?” Weimar looked back at the halfling.

    “Why waste the effort?” Amyalla smirked, as she picked up a loose stone lying near the wall and tossed it forward. The stone struck the tripwire and caused it to vibrate violently. Weimar threw his shield up in alarm, but he found he had no reason to worry. A pair of scything blades came tearing out of the walls ahead, before sliding back into the slits in the wall they emerged from.

    “If you’ll allow me,” Amyalla grinned, stepping ahead of him to work on the tripwire.

    “And how did you know that the tripwire wouldn’t have affected us from where we were standing?” Weimar pointed out, as Amyalla pulled out some of her tools to disconnect the tripwire.

    “The trap was meant to activate when someone hit the tripwire,” Amyalla reminded him. “It’s hardly likely that a tripwire would activate a trap for someone standing ten feet behind the wire, especially considering how much room we’d have to dodge. I mean, honestly!” she smirked.

    Weimar was tempted to shoot something back at her, but he contented himself with an amused smirk of his own.


    It didn’t take Luna long to recover her bearings after she landed in the passage, and she was fortunate to get out of Airk’s way as he came down behind her. They were in a long corridor of worked stone, with flickering torches on the walls that provided light to see by, although it was dim indeed for Luna.

    “Where are we?” she asked Airk as the gnome got to his feet and picked up his military pick and shield, which he’d dropped when he landed.

    “A corridor,” Airk muttered in surprise, “and the passages are leading in the same direction as the cave above. Why in the Nine Hells would they do that?” he asked warily.

    The loud stomping sound and the shadows approaching on either side gave the woman and the gnome their answer. Two large ogres came stomping out of the shadows down one end of the corridor, even as more footsteps approached from the other side. These steps belonged to yet another huge ogre, as well as a slim verbeeg with sandy-blonde hair and a refined, almost aristocratic look about him.

    “The better to surround you with, I should say,” Bruddelmort the verbeeg grinned at them. “I should assume that you’re not all that pleased at being outnumbered?”

    “Not pleased at your being a coward, more like,” Airk shot back, raising his pick in a challenge.

    “Please,” Bruddelmort smirked, as the ogre standing next to him raised his flail. “Do you seriously think me vulnerable to such taunts?”

    “Flee!” Luna suddenly shouted, turning her back on the giant and calling out to the ogre standing on the other side of her and Airk as the holy symbol around her neck glowed brightly. Immediately, the ogre looked at one another, back at Seline, and retreated screaming down the corridor. Airk’s exchange with Bruddelmort had given Luna the few seconds she needed to mutter a quick chant and cast her spell on one of the ogres, causing it to flee down the corridor. Shouting in anger, Bruddelmort raised his sword and charged, followed by his ogre henchman, as Airk and Luna came to meet them.

    Luna deflected the first blow with her shield, quickly striking back and whacking the ogre in the side of the head with her mace. The big lummox hardly seemed to feel it, however, swinging his flail once again and forcing Luna to duck. She lashed out again, this time catching the ogre on the hip, but again her blow didn’t seem to have much effect.

    Airk and Bruddelmort were caught in a fierce duel, with neither one seeming to be able to gain the advantage. Bruddelmort proved to be remarkably skilled at deflecting Airk’s blows, choosing the best moments for his strikes. Airk cursed, realizing that the verbeeg was all too aware of the disadvantages giants often encountered against gnomes. He swung his pick at the giant in a vicious sideways slash, expecting the giant to deflect the blow with his shield, but instead Bruddelmort stepped back. As Airk’s blow cut through the air between them, the giant brought his sword down, catching Airk dead on. Airk managed to avoid the full force of the blow, but he’d suffered a nasty cut nonetheless and there was blood all along his shoulder and arm. Snarling angrily, the gnome kept up the pressure, determined to kill the arrogant wretch.

    If Bruddlemort displayed finesse with his sword, the ogre Boondoo was simply brutal, swinging his flail wildly in his efforts to crush Luna. His clumsy strikes left him wide open to Seline’s blows, and although she was constantly bruising the big lummox, she could not seem to bring him down. Once again, she deflected a flail blow with her shield, but the sheer force of Boondoo’s blows were causing her arm to go numb. Her shield arm lowered long enough for Boondoo to strike down low and slam her painfully in the hip, causing her to reel in pain. To make matters worse, she could hear the booming footsteps of the other ogre coming back up towards them. Unfortunately, the spell she had cast was only good for about a minute, and even a monster as stupid as the ogre would quickly recover from it.

    Airk heard it too, and knew he had to act fast. Striking once again with his pick, Airk smiled inwardly as Bruddelmort blocked it with his shield. Bruddelmort brought his sword down once again, and Airk raised his own shield to deflect it. Sensing his opportunity, Bruddelmort lashed out with his foot. Airk only smirked, quickly bringing back his pick and piercing Bruddelmort’s foot. The giant howled in pain and pulled his suddenly bloody foot back, and Airk didn’t waste the opportunity. Lashing out with his pick, he tore a series of bloody gashes into the giant’s torso. Bruddelmort stumbled in pain, and Airk sprang straight up into the air, lashing out with his pick and tearing into Bruddelmort’s eye. The gnome’s pick left a long gash down Bruddlemort’s face, and the giant stumbled back as the other ogre came at Airk from behind.

    Leading with his shield, Airk deflected the ogre Spadull’s club and quickly struck back, once again piercing the monster’s foot with his now bloody pick. The monster cursed in pain and Airk pressed the attack, this time piercing the ogre’s knee with his pick. Once again, Spadull cried out and tried to strike back at Airk, but the gnome easily ducked under his clumsy strike and began tearing into the ogre with his pick. Blood mixed with sweat as the ogre tried one final strike, one that Airk almost casually deflected with his shield. Soon, Airk’s pick had ripped Spadull’s throat out, and the ogre collapsed like a toppled tree, falling back with a great crash.

    Boondoo tried to press the advantage with Luna, but the young woman stubbornly struck back, praying to Pelor for luck. She was indeed fortunate, as her mace struck the ogre squarely in the hand. She could hear the satisfying crunch of cracking bones, as the ogre dropped his flail and cried out in pain. Taking a deep breath, she lashed out once more with her mace, this time striking the dumb brute square in the face.

    Airk and Luna both leaned against the wall to catch their breath, weary from their exertions. Their injuries ached abominably, and they were still scalded from the burst of magical steam they’d suffered in the cave above. Luna felt like she was going to faint, but she remembered her duty. Putting down her shield and mace, she began chanting softly, her hands glowing as she moved towards Airk.

    “Not me, you,” he shook his head. “You’re the one with the healing spells, girl-if you go, then there’s not much the rest of us can do.”

    Luna, still chanting, seemed as if she wanted to refuse, but the angry look on Airk’s face convinced her otherwise. She placed her glowing hands on her own hips, welcoming the warm feeling of relief as her injuries healed. Airk looked at her with concern, but she nodded and smiled at him.

    “You’re sure you’re alright?” Luna asked Airk as she bent down to pick up her mace and shield.

    “I’ll live,” Airk assured her. “It takes a lot more than that to kill me.”

    “Pity about the weather in that upper cave, though,” Luna sighed as they began marching down the corridor. “No wonder you hate the rain so much. Just as much as I do, I wager.”

    “More than that,” Airk smirked.

    “I could do without the confined spaces, though,” Luna frowned at the passage all around them.

    “Oh, you’ll get used to it in time,” Airk waved away her concerns. “You don’t need to worry, my dear-this is all firmly worked stone that won’t cave in, I can assure you. In fact, I don’t even think this was built by orcs-more likely it was done by dwarves or gnomes, who the orcs eventually drove out of here.”

    Luna relaxed considerably at that, mouthing her thanks to Airk, who just smiled back.

    Ma’non’go looked around as he rose to his feet, finding that he was alone. He clenched his trident even more tightly, only hoping that Luna and Seline would be alright. Somewhat to his surprise, he found his concern shifting to Weimar, and then to the tall Flan man, the gnome and the halfling who had joined them on this strange venture. The two women he had sworn with his life to guard were still his primary concern, but the idea that any of the others might suffer at these monsters’ hands did not sit well with him.

    The torches on either side of him cast long shadows as he walked down the corridor, looking all around him for traps or threats. His ears were what alerted him to the threat, however, as he heard the footsteps up ahead. Raising his trident, Ma’non’go slowed his pace as he saw a large figure emerge from the shadows up ahead. The figure was a large verbeeg with a tangle of wild hair and a matching beard, carrying a large sword and clad in chain mail armor. The giant seemed particularly pleased to see Ma’non’go, and a wide, evil smile crossed his face at the human’s arrival.

    “Just you and me then, darkling?” the giant Nicknarn smiled. “So much the better that I sent the ogres away-not that I need them to deal with a darkling, of all things!”

    Ma’non’go felt a seething rage at the giant’s slur, and his eyes gleamed dangerously.

    “Got nothing to say, darkling?” Nicknarn continued. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway, not when you’re going to die. Would you like that, darkling?”

    The slurs were bad enough, and the giant’s arrogant, condescending tone made Ma’non’go all the angrier. He simply gestured with his trident, beckoning the giant to attack.

    Nicknarn whooped eagerly and charged, swinging his sword wildly. Ma’non’go twisted out of the way and thrust back with his trident, but Nicknarn quickly stepped back and avoided the worst of the blow. The glancing blow Ma’non’go struck was absorbed by Nicknarn’s mail, and the giant wasted no time in striking back. Ma’non’go thrust his trident up this time, catching Nicknarn’s sword in the tines, and flexed his muscles as he pushed back. Verbeeg were the weakest of all the giant races, and their strength could be matched by determined humans. Such was the case as Nicknarn kept pushing, but Ma’non’go stubbornly refused to give in.

    Finally, Ma’non’go released the pressure and leapt back, causing Nicknarn to stumble forward. The tall southerner immediately came forward again, raking at Nicknarn with his trident and tearing several long gashes into Nicknarn’s torso. The giant lashed out with his foot, forcing Ma’non’go back. Slashing with his sword, he managed to tear a small gash in each of Ma’non’go’s arms, but Ma’non’go was surprisingly fast for his size and quickly pulled out of the way of the trident. Charging forward again, he plunged his trident deep into Nicknarn’s arm and tore a long line of blood, ripping through the sleeve of his chain mail as if it was made of paper. Howling in pain, now holding his sword awkwardly, Nicknarn leapt back and tried another strike, but Ma’non’go was ready.

    Raising his trident, Ma’non’go smiled wickedly as he drove it into the giant’s chest, impaling the monster up to the handle. His muscles rippled as he forced his trident upwards through Nicknarn’s chest, tearing a hideous gash that eventually ripped the giant’s throat out. Nicknarn was already dead by the time he slid off Ma’non’go’s trident and collapsed on the floor.

    Ma’non’go could only smile to himself at that. He’d occasionally heard similar comments from people in the eastern Flanaess, more than one of whom had made further lewd comments about his relationship with Luna and Seline. Usually, a beating was all it took to make them realize the error of their ways and apologize for their rudeness. When monsters like giants or werewolves said similar insults, Ma’non’go was quite willing to resort to a more permanent solution.

    Sprinting silently down the passage, Ma’non’go only regretted that none of his companions had been there to witness the scene.

    The weird sisters were not pleased to see the ogres Droolord and Hahaduh, sent back by that arrogant fool Nicknarn, nor were they pleased to see the badly injured Bruddlemort. The sisters realized that these adventurers were more powerful than they had at first expected, and that they needed to make preparations.

    Nodding to her sisters, Dorbella pulled a scroll from a pouch at her belt. It was an old scroll, the ultimate prize from one of their earliest victims. The scroll was scribed with powerful spells, and the sisters had used almost all of them, save for the most powerful one. This was a crisis, and the sisters knew that they could not afford to take these new threats likely.

    The giants and ogres shivered as the weird sisters began their chant, feeling as if they were being watched. Something wrong, not of this oerth, was coming, some horrible something that sent chills down their spines. They were utterly helpless before it, and they could feel it looming before them, something that promised infinite menace, attraction and horror all at once.

    Two of the creatures came at their calling, and the looks on the creatures’ faces showed how eager they were to feed. The monsters could not stay on this oerth for long, but they would last long enough to be able to feed. That knowledge made them all the more eager to fight, and even moreso to kill.

    Ma’non’go soon emerged from his passage into a large circular chamber from which several more corridors branched off. To his surprise, he saw the rest of his companions emerging from some of those corridors, and the look of gratitude on his face spoke for itself when he saw that, while they had seen battle, they were still more than capable of continuing.

    “That’s the passage, then?” Amyalla asked, pointing with her dagger at the one tunnel none of her companions had emerged from. “The only way forward?”

    “We can’t go just yet,” Luna interrupted. “I need to prepare us.”

    Please, Lord Pelor, she thought to herself, as she reached into the pocket of her robe. Show us that your light can shine even down within the recesses of the oerth. Help me help these people, whose goals are the same as yours and who seek nothing more than to bring the innocent home.

    Please…help me help…my friends, she continued, as she opened the vial of holy water she had retrieved from her pocket. Her voice rose in a quiet, gentle chant as she dipped her finger in the holy water and then touched the wet finger to her forehead. She repeated the ritual with Seline and Ma’non’go, dipping her finger in the water and then touching them on the forehead, who both realized what she was doing. Weimar accepted Luna’s touch with little more than a raised eyebrow, although the others, the ones who they had first met, seemed wary. The look in Luna’s eyes did much to dispel their concerns, and Amyalla stepped forward to be blessed as well. Airk and Revafour followed suit, and the joy they saw on Luna’s face was a light indeed in the dim underground tunnels.

    Once her ritual was done, Luna began chanting again, this time pointing to Seline’s staff. Its tip suddenly glowed a bright gold in color, and the glow soon expanded into a flash as bright as the sun itself. Everything was clear, even as the adventurers steeled themselves for whatever was coming next and continued on determinedly down the passage. The light of Luna’s spell all but announced their coming, but that hardly mattered-they knew the monsters, the villains who had made victims of these children, were waiting for them.

    At that moment, the seven people walking down the corridor all shared the same desire.

    To make the monsters pay with blood. 

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