27th Limestone, 126Giltpicks comes careening down the corridor, panting. “Leader! Gargoyle! It’s just one this time, but it’s a really big one!”
Pillarmarket sighs… “Call civilians inside. Organize the militia. Meet the threat at our entrance. Put that axe of yours to use. You can bring down one gargoyle easy, even if it’s a big one.”
---
Fleshring, Whipsea, Merchantseized, Ancienthall, Giltpick, and Rockbears assemble at the top of the ramp. Ancienthall gets there first and decides to strangle a random passing wild turkey to death while waiting on the others. No one bothers to question it. Once the whole militia is present, Fleshring gives the order to charge. The group encounters another turkey on the way, quickly dispatching it, apparently just for the hell of it, while the gargoyle continues to chase a couple civilians in circles. Even Seizewhip’s pet rabbit joins in the turkey slaughter, but only manages to get its paw shattered by what was apparently a pro wrestling turkey.
Finally, the giant gargoyle notices he’s being pursued by willing opponents, and charges. Fleshring meets the creature first, and they charge head on into each other. “FOR GLORY! FOR THE SPECIAL DIKE!”
Fleshring angles his charge at the last moment, avoiding a full body collision, but driving his fist deep into the beast’s stomach. The marble shatters, and the gargoyle bends over clutching its midsection. Fleshring follows up with a punch in the face, knocking out a tooth. Then Rockbears joins in and the two begin pummeling, indiscriminately breaking bones all over its body. It flails out feebly a few times in the midst of this onslaught, failing to accomplish anything. It lets out one final scream of anguish just before passing out. Shortly after, the entire six dwarf militia is bent over its face, fists pumping, and Fleshring strangling. The statue lives not much longer.
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27th Sandstone, 126Giltpick once again comes huffing and puffing up to Pillarmarket. “Harpies! Three of them!”
“Militia out, civilians in, GO!”
---
A couple minutes later, everyone’s inside, except for the militia. The harpies mill about for a while, celebrating over the donkey they tore apart. Then, they charge. Merchantseized and Giltpick meet them first.
The harpies are a flailing mess of tearing claws. The two brave dwarves can only steel themselves and leap into the grinder, hoping to match as a flailing mess of bone-breaking fists.
They land several powerful blows each, but receive many scratches for each wound they inflict. Merchantseized grabs one by the face with both hands and gouges out an eye and a cheek, while another tears into her back. Giltpick faces the third and manages to knock it over, then begins strangling it. The free harpy notices this and switches to tearing unopposed into Giltpick’s back. Both the dwarves ruthlessly pursue the death of their victims, no matter how much pain they must ignore.
Merchantseized and Giltpick separate as they fight, leaving Giltpick alone with two opponents. Merchantseized’s Harpy eventually escapes, but Giltpick takes many terrible wounds in the meantime. The free harpy tears into him relentlessly, but he grits his teeth and keeps his hands on his victim’s throat. “HEEELP MEEE!!!”
Rockbears finally runs over to help, and begins punching the strangled harpy in the head.
“AAAHHH YOU FOOL GET THIS THING OFF MY BACK!!!”
“But the sooner we kill this one, the sooner we can face that one together!”
Tears gather in Giltpick’s eyes as the pain is too much for him to form words anymore. All he can do is focus with all of his will in strangling this harpy. Finally, its heart stops, and Giltpick turns to the so-far-unwounded harpy with a murderous glare.
Rockbears starts in on the final threat first, while the vaguely dwarf shaped pillar of blood and torn flesh behind him gathers its strength for revenge with a feral growl turning into an otherworldly scream in his throat.
As soon as Giltpick re-engages, the harpy resumes scratching at him. Giltpick seems too enraged to even notice anymore, assaulting the foul creature with a strength not meant for one so wounded. Every blow he lands inflicts terrible wounds, but the harpy seems hell-bent on ending him.
Merchantseized joins in as well, making this fight now 3 dwarves on one harpy. It puts up a hell of a fight, but finally Rockbears manages to land a mean punch to the back of its neck, permanently paralyzing it.
Giltpick lands one final, vicious blow to the things ribs, shattering them with a sickening crunch, before collapsing of suffocation on his own blood within his lungs.
The other two finish off the paralyzed harpy, then gather around the fallen dwarf.
“He fought like a demon…”
Merchantseized doesn’t respond, only taking a moment to silently honor her fallen comrade, then turning to bring the news back to the rest of the settlement and receive treatment for her own wounds. Rockbears, taking credit as slayer of the beast, gives it the posthumous title of Armstasis for reference in record-keeping.
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A short while later, the other harpy that had escaped decides to return, its bloodlust overcoming any sense of self-preservation.
This time, Fleshring is awake and ready.
The harpy reaches out for him with a talon and he deftly grabs it by the leg and swings it full-body into the ground. He places one foot on its thigh and pulls, bending the knee the wrong way. As it screams in agony, he kicks it over, and stomps on the small of its back, paralyzing it from the waist down. He then sits on its back and strangles it to death.
Fleshring stands and regards his work for a moment… “Damnit Giltpick… that’s how it’s done.” He shakes his head solemnly, spits on the abomination's corpse, and goes back to haul Giltpick to his grave.
No time for a funeral. The main farm has finally been dug out and is almost ready for irrigation. The entrance is almost walled off. A caravan will arrive any day now. There's much to do.
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Topic: The Tale of Baldedgilds (Read 8474 times)