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The Hungering Cold (Part 4)
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((Comments please, good or bad =D ))
Pätryn and co. stood in front of the large entry way out of the strategy room. The walls were rough cut, jagged, black stone. The floor was rough dirt, with rats squeaking in the darkness.
Gizman the mage, now recovered from his tremendous fireball, raised his hand, and a small guttering flame appeared, lighting the way. In the half light the walls looked even more rough and barbaric looking.
Renetharan looked at the rough cut gravel. “Nothing like the wonderful architecture of Darnassus…” she said wistfully. Gardrath raised an eyebrow at her. “Ye elves don’t know one kind o’ rock from another, don’t speak o’ stoneworkin’ with a dwarf around miss!” he said scornfully.
Renetharan whirled on Gardrath, fist raised. She threw a punch, which bounced off of his thick helm .She cried out and pulled her hand back, which was now red. “That’s right missy!” Gardrath chuckled. Pätryn ran in-between them before the elf could retaliate. “Enough you two!” he said shortly. “Keep your tempers under control!” he said, looking at both elf and dwarf.
Renetharan had the grace to look ashamed, but Gardrath merely looked at Pätryn for a moment, then stumped away. Renetharan looked at Pätryn, who shrugged apologetically. She turned and stalked off.
“Let’s get moving,” Pätryn muttered, walking forward. “Before we get into any more fights,” he thought to himself. The rest of the group followed. They met with a couple Vrykul who were easily taken care of. Ghouls and geists haunted the passage, but were kept away by Gardrath’s aura of holiness.
They reached the end of the first tunnel, and in front of them loomed steps. The steps were rough cut like the rest of the passage, but they were carved of tan stone instead of dark brown to black stone like the walls.
Gardrath was the first up the stairs. “Good solid stone here,” he said, eyeing the elf. Renetharan took great pains to ignore him. They climbed the stairs, a short distance. At the top was another staircase, larger and made of the same kind of stone as the shorter stairs, tan. At the foot of the stairs stood two figures, one large appeared to have no shirt. The other was a bit smaller and wore sickly orange robes, and held a staff.
“Skarvald and Dalronn,” muttered Pätryn. “You guys ready?” he asked the group. Renetharan shot a glance at Gardrath. “If the dwarf is ready for anything, I’m twice as ready,” she said, her voice dripping scorn like a liquid. Gardrath shot her a look. “If you were twice as ready as I was why you injured, not I?” he asked sarcastically.
She flushed and turned away, careful to not look at Gardrath to see the satisfaction on his face. Pätryn groaned. “Can we just attack the targets?” he whispered. Arinaar and Fizman nodded vigorously. Patryn lifted his sword. “I’ll go first,” he said. “Gardrath, you’re next, then the rest follow.” Gardrath nodded, and Pätryn started forward.
They entered a large room, with another staircase at the end. Banners of the Vrykul clan were hung on the walls, and there was a window at the top of the stairs, letting the afternoon sunlight inside.
Patrn lifted his runeblade as he swung it at the Vrykul, who turned and blocked the attack. “Dalronn,” he yelled with a voice like the rumble of rocks tumbling off a cliff, “See if you can muster the nerve to join in my attack!” The Vrykul took three steps and leaped at Gardrath, who rolled out of the way.
“By all means, don't assess the situation, you halfwit! Just jump into the fray!” yelled Dalronn back, shadow gathering around his hands. Skarvlad laughed as he punched Gardrath, the large iron knuckles we wore denting the dwarf’s armor. Gardrath merely grunted and drove his sword into Skarvald’s leg.
The Vrykul gasped and took a step back, and Pätryn took the chance and stepped forward. His runeblade darted forward, and the runes seemed to glow in anticipation as it plunged into the Vrykul’s heard. The Vrykul’s eyes widened as he dropped to the floor. “Not... over... yet.” He gasped, and his eyes glazed over.
Patrny pumped his fist in victory, until he remembered something. “The wizard is a necromancer!” he called, but too late. “Skarvald, you incompetent slug! Return and make yourself useful!” called the necromancer. The spirit of Skarvald reappeared and jumped into the fray. He knocked Arinaar to the ground and punched Fizman, who doubled over, gasping, and fell to the gray stone floor.
Renetharan slipped around behind the necromancer, and as he turned to smack the rogue, her knife slipped into his heart. He gasped. “There's no... greater... glory.” He said, and fell to the floor, dead. “A warrior’s death!” said the spirit of Skarvald as it dissipated.
Renetharan chuckled. “One, zero,” she said to the dwarf, smiling. He grunted and walked over to the large staircase. This was different than the others, made of gray stone with large wooden handrails. “We best get movin’ aye?” he asked the group in general.
Pätryn looked over at him. “Not yet, we need time for Arinaar and Fizman.” Gardrath nodded and sat on the bottom step, dropping his sword, panting. Arinaar stood up. “I am fine, he merely surprised me,” the draenei informed them. Fizman struggled to his feet, downing a potion. “I am fine,” he gasped. “Let’s go.” He accented the point by joining Gardrath on the stone stairs.
Pätryn nodded and walked over to the stairs, the rest following. At the top, the stairs curved into another room. It was long, with tables set about, and straw on the floor. “Worgs,” muttered Gardrath menacingly, drawing his sword…
Well done, I enjoyed the fight scene and how you managed to encorperate the mechanics and quotes of the fight. Still awaiting Ingvar's battle.
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