Path: usenet.ee.pdx.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!reuter.cse.ogi.edu!uwm.edu!cs.utexas.edu!news.sprintlink.net!uunet!not-for-mail From: Guido Roessling Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives Subject: STORY: Qelrik part 74 Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc Date: 7 Jun 1995 08:37:43 -0400 Organization: Technische Hochschule Darmstadt Lines: 171 Sender: smm@uunet.uu.net Approved: smm@uunet.uu.net Distribution: world Message-ID: <3r46in$abg@rodan.UU.NET> NNTP-Posting-Host: rodan.uu.net This is a multi-part message in MIME format. ---------------------------------40120744315200688169318601 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1 If you have WWW access, check out the QELRIK pages at http://www.pu.informatik.th-darmstadt.de/dida/qelrik.html ---------------------------------40120744315200688169318601 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain Fighting in the lair... ======================= Looking straight ahead, taking care not to look directly in the light coming from the magical ball of light, which Dahlarin now had floating by the ceiling, Gernodt waited for the first orcs to come around the last bend. Finally, the first orcs came into sight with weapons drawn. Obviously they had been aware of the small group because of the ball of light, which Dahlarin had decided not to dispel. Just as Gernodt was about to step forward to face the first orc, a pitiful groan from behind him caused him to hesitate. Glancing back, he saw that Kyle had shifted a bit, and was now lying on his wounded side. Since the first cursory examination he had made had sufficed to show him that some of his ribs were broken, this was quite a serious position for him... Apart from being extremely painful, it also had the added danger of piercing his lung - an injury that Gernodt was only too well aware was far beyond his not inconsiderable healing skills. Glancing at Dahlarin, he was about to say something to the effect that the mage would have to look out out for himself for some few moments, but he saw that this was unnecessary. Obviously, Dahlarin had heard the groan and come to the same conclusion, as he only gave a slight nod while removing something with his right hand from one of his robe's inner pockets. Gernodt took his mighty sword in his left hand, and reached Kyle with two long steps. Putting down the sword for a moment, he gently put one hand under Kyle's shoulder, gripping his thigh with the other. Carefully but firmly he started to slowly move him until he was lying flat on his back, with his hands at his sides. The sharp clang of metal against Dahlarin's silver arm told him that Dahlarin was still holding his own, while the total silence from Fox's direction at least indicated that the orcs were not on the advance yet. Taking up his sword, he went back to Dahlarin's side, only to see an orc leap forward, spear held ready for a throw. It was obvious that he was aiming for Kyle, and that he would be able to throw before Gernodt could stop him. A short glance out of the corner of his left eye told him that Dahlarin was kept busy facing an orc that he was holding off with his staff, and therefore unable to do anything about this threat to their companion as well. Given the short distance and Kyle's prone position, it was very likely that the wound would be fatal or at least incapacitating... Having made his decision, Gernodt steeled himself, and drawing a deep breath, stepped directly in the path of the spear's flight. The spear connected with a solid thud, its head entering deep into Gernodt's left thigh. Pain washed over him, blurring his vision for a moment. Then, his mind set firmly upon his task of keeping his friends alive, his subcon- scious took over, chanting one of the mantras he had been told in the temple he had apprenticed in during his youth. It was a mantra usually meant for cleaning the spirit of any external distractions, and, while not meant for distractions of this magnitude, it worked quite well. With a deep grunt, he took a firm hold on the spear's butt end, giving a short prayer of thanks to Bellar that the spear had neither hit an artery nor the thigh bone, and then ripped the spear out. A small groan of pain slipped from him, but then he once again stood firmly upon his legs, casting the spear to the side. The orc who had thrown the spear was looking dumbfounded at this sight - first the strange man had, seemingly intentionally, stepped directly into the spear's way, a deed he could not understand. Then, as if this hit had not been that bad, he had simply ripped out the spear from his gaping leg wound. Knowing this wound to be enough to send most men or orcs to the ground, he was still shaking his head in wonder when Gernodt's sword connected solidly with his neck, removing the head from the shoulder in an instant. Without a word or sound Gernodt advanced upon the orcs, the only proof of the pain he could not quite block from his mind being the strange way his mouth was set. This seemed to frighten the other orcs more than anything, however - caused perhaps by the fact that the scar tissue of his face made him look as if he was grinning. Advancing with two large steps on the next orc guard, he brought his sword around in a wide arc to gain the momentum needed for this strike. However, this act was taking too much time, and one of the orcs used this time to get in a quick jab with his rapier - or at least he tried to do so, as a bright flash of fiery energy coalesced around his chest. The orc let out a frightened howl, dropped his rapier, and began to flail around his companions in a panic, nearly sending them into a rout as well. The victory was short lived, however, as the orc fell to the ground, still burning, and several more orcs rounds the corner to join in the fray. Bringing his sword around, Gernodt cleaved an orc from shoulder to shoulder, and hit the next orc squarely in the chest, where the sword finally stuck, having lost its momentum on the poor second orc's breastbone. With a gargle of pain, both orcs simply fell over. Wrenching his sword free with a quick twist of his wrist, Gernodt took another step forward to engage the next orcs, as Dahlarin prepared to launch yet another spell. All at once, the orcs surged forward, forcing Dahlarin to abandon his spell and defend himself. Gernodt also found himself hard pressed, with little space to swing his massive sword. He let out an intimidating snarl and smashed an orc in the face with his elbow. Still, it was barely enough to keep them at bay, and he knew he would not be able to hold out for long... * * * * * *YAWN!* Bored. The panther stretched, then paused, listening. Her ears flicked forward and her head cocked to the side, taking in every little sound. There it was again, the faint sound of fighting. She glanced around... the forest seemed peaceful enough. Quite some time had passed since the woman had disappeared into the dark opening of the cave. The orcs on guard had been insultingly easy to kill, but the mess had taken her hours to clean off her fur. 'Yuck! Orc blood.', she thought grimly to herself. Suddenly, she bolted upright and raced down the hillside toward the cave. She sped quickly through the darkness, a silent death of shadows racing through the dark tunnels. The smells of orcs assaulted her sensed, but she paid them little heed. Blood. Human blood. Her senses guided her through the twisting maze of tunnels, the noise of the battle growing louder. Around a bend appeared several orcs fighting a huge man. Slightly further down, another plainly garbed man held three orcs at bay by parrying with his metal arm and his staff. Both were quickly losing ground. With a growl, she leaped into the air, and nearly two hundred pounds of cat landed on the back of one of the orcs. Claws extended, she ripped the back of the orc, jaws clamping on its neck as it fell to the ground under the panther's weight. With a low growl, the panther lunged for another. Grabbing on to it with her claws, she ripped a gaping hold in its chest. The sudden emergence of this growling terror was enough to give Gernodt and Dahlarin the advantage they needed. Gernodt let out a roar, and the orcs surrounding him took a step back. With a crackle of magic, Dahlarin dispatched another orc down the hallway and the battle paused for a moment. Gernodt stood, blood streaming freely from his leg wound, yet still putting his full weight on the leg without flinching. The panther stared into the remaining orcs' eyes and let out a deep, menacing growl. Gernodt grinned broadly, unnerving the orcs even more, and as one, they dropped their weapons and ran. The battle done, Gernodt slumped a bit, and sat down heavily. Taking a good look at his injured leg, he stuck one finger straight into the wound. Shivering from the nearly unbearable pain, he nearly did not notice Dahlarin coming over, and looking at him with an expression of deep worry. Grinning up at him in what he could only hope was an assuring look, he started to mumble the prayer to Bellar, god of Woodsmen and Healing, that was required to ensure a safe healing process. Slowly removing his finger from the wound while praying, he felt a tearing pain as the grazed nerves repaired themselves. Once the finger was completely removed from the wound, the blood that had flown freely so far slowed down to a slight trickle, then stopped completely. Breathing out deeply in relief, he looked up at Dahlarin, and nearly laughed out loud at his friend's expression - fascination, curiosity and wonder battled on his face. Even the panther tilted her head curiously at this display, then returned to the attempt at cleaning the orc blood off her fur, ears back in an obvious expression of disgust at the blood. "Well now, while this will take some days to heal completely, it is once again in working order. Let's be off at once, though - there's no telling when the orcs might reappear." Dahlarin, however, had returned his attention to the panther. He hesitantly crouched down and brought the magical ball of light down from the ceiling to get a closer look at her. The panther padded softly over to him, then rubbed against him, letting out a purr which, without the accompanying gesture, would have sounded like a menacing growl. Baffled, he looked back at Gernodt, who only shrugged and put back his sword in his sheath after wiping it clean on the spear-thrower's tunic. Grunting, he bent double and picked up Kyle, taking care not to hold him in one of his injured places, and motioned for Dahlarin to take the lead again. Before he had gone two steps, though, he remembered something, and with a grin on his face, he called out "Come on Fox, quit playing with them now. Time to go !". ---------------------------------40120744315200688169318601--