Cirius... That was amazing. I love it.
Turen ran out of the temple entrance – Tanesh right behind him - holding a guards shirt to his thumb to help staunch the bleeding. Tanesh, seeing the closing circle of guards and monks around the pair, and the widening circle around the dog, hurriedly looked around for a way to help them. Sighting something, he turned to Tanesh. “Do ye think you could get the wagon?” Tanesh gave a nod and ran off. Turen ran to the right, re-sheathed his axe, and began to climb.
Meanwhile, Servu was watching the closing circle with dread. The enemies closed slowly, circling behind to surround them completely. Across from the circle, he could see twenty guards with tower shields trying to keep his dog isolated from the group. It had been decided long ago that killing it seemed to be impossible, as it never seemed to slow as it rushed from soldier to soldier, biting at shields, trying to knock off helms. An unfortunate soldier lifted his shield too high; the dog rushed in and pulled off one of his greaves, managing to crush his shinbone before the shield came back down onto its nose. The screaming guard was dragged backwards, and another replaced him, the guards becoming collectively more wary. Servu, seeing that the dog was effectively cornered, turned and yelled “Perkele!” Immediately it jumped on top of one of the soldier’s shields, grounding it and springing halfway to Servu, it’s momentum falling short, and causing it to fall flat into a group of soldiers. The monks and guards surrounding the area, seeing the dog go down, immediately fell on the area. After a small tumult, the dog ran out through the closing wall of soldiers, shedding monks and guards at it cantered along. Reaching Servu, it sat - crushing the legs of an unfortunate guard who had been unwise enough to continue holding on – and began gnawing at a knife imbedded in its shoulder muscle. Servu knelt down to give it a pat, and remove the troublesome object, tearing off a piece of his trousers to stuff into the wound. Handling the knife like dangerous poison, he walked around to the other end of Perkele, before flipping the knife and shoving it directly into the skull of the unfortunate guard. Standing, Servu turned to the aghast Siira, a smirk on his face. “Coming?” Without waiting for an answer, he walked back past her, calling out to the following Perkele, “Sit”. Turning, he walked towards one end of the circle, one being as good as the other, picking up his mace as he moved.
“Time to up the ‘ante”. Pulling free his backpack, he grabbed off his second mace, and tossed it towards Perkele, yelling “Guard”, and as he walked towards one end of the circle – Siira following, it began to stretch, as the guards on the sides started to move in, while still trying to maintain a respectful distance from the demon dog and the backpack it now gripped happily in its jaws.
Walking towards a particular human, he gave a small happy hop-skip, before breaking into a run. Reaching the guard, his defence set, he suddenly stopped, his first mace coming down to bat the guard’s shield to the side, the second coming down onto his head. Hitting the next guard on the kneecap, he did a quick spin, hitting the next in the hip, while hitting another in the face. Servu spun and weaved, his maces flicking back and forth, a resounding crack sounding with every hit. A sword came up to defend, he caught it in the serrated grooves of his second mace, and gave a quick tug, pulling the weapon free of the guard. Hitting away a second guard with his other mace, he hit again at the guard, this time hitting a blocking arm. Seeing this guard to be just troublesome, he gave a twist of his wrist, the teeth of the mace locking into the guard’s flesh. Tugging the mace behind him, the guard had no choice but to follow, as the alternative was having that part of his skin tugged off. A quick step to the left, and the two maces made a quick rat-tat-tat on another guard’s shield, forcing him to drop down, so that the dwarf could now jump up on the shield held above the guard’s head. Servu swayed, but compared to balancing upon the dog, this was no contest – with the added benefit of him now being high enough to get in good strikes at the heads around him. Like a practiced drummer, he began smashing in skulls to either side, managing to kill or wound at least nine before the guard underneath him began to rise. Looking down, Servu gave a quick hop, putting even more weight on the struggling guard. Hopping backwards, he smashed in the guard’s kneecap, then, when his shield went low, hit him in the head.
Suddenly, all eyes turned up at the sound of a resounding crack, to see Turen, who had sheared through the legs of a gigantic marble statue of armok. Running around to the other side, he gave an almighty shove to start it’s fall, and then jumped on the back of its legs, as it slid down towards the guards. Unfortunately, the statue didn’t go as fast as Turen had hoped, so they were all able to scramble out of the way, but the sheer size of the statue caused for most of the guards to be cut off from the invading adventurers. As Servu scrambled backwards from the sliding monstrosity, he saw the wagon come flying around the corner, tipping on two wheels as the muskoxen tethered to the front bowled through the guards and monks in their way. Breaking into the circle, it suddenly stopped, and as Siira ran around to the back, she saw Motev and Adil sitting in there, Adil with a golden idol tucked under his arm. Turen, finished with his statue surfing, jumped to the ground and immediately started running towards the caravan, Servu running back to Perkele and retrieving his backpack. Ordering the dog into the caravan, he returned his mace, christened “helmshatter” – to the backpack, jumping into the caravan as it rolled past. Turen was last in, and the caravan rumbled off out of the temple complex, Perkele howling a farewell to the soldiers trying to chase them.
Inside the caravan, Adil held up the Idol in the general direction of Turen.
“Would there be any of these at the other two temples?”
“Very likely”
“You’re forgiven, for now”.
Leaning back, Adil rested his head against one of the seats situated in the side of the caravan wall. Turning to the right, he noticed Motev’s incredulous stare.
“What?”
... “A cushion”
“Hey... it’ll have more impact than you think”.
Arch-Bishop Cirius, newly untied, ordered his chief of staff to him. In a completely calm and collected voice, he ordered – “Chase them, Find them... and bring them to me.”
The chief of staff bowed, and sent a monk out of the room to relay the information to the troops.
“Pardon me, sir. Would you prefer them Dead, or Alive?”
Cirius fixed a patronising stare upon the chief.
"Chief... They’re dwarves.”
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Topic: Tourniquet - Gone to the... Pub. (Read 14710 times)