Tuesday, August 30, 2011
I feel my chest unknot when I see the wagon explode through the entrance. I catch just one glimpse of Star, safe and sound, and then the Drow follow and I'm too busy killing them to pay attention to anything else.
A Viking longsword is a two-handed weapon, too heavy and slow for the press of bodies around me. I draw my axe instead and I can feel Inari at my back, hear the rasp of steel as she draws her blade. I plunge forward with a roar, sweeping the axe in a murderous arc, taking the first warrior low in the gut. He staggers back, one hand trying to hold his intestines in place. The next Drow takes a killing blow to the neck and then I kick him back among his fellows. A warrior comes at me, screaming with rage, a great two-handed sword held high. I smash him in the mouth, severing his lower jaw and cutting back to the spine. I wrench the axe free and let him fall - too slow, a sword comes out of nowhere, scraping along my lower ribs. Were it not for the elven mail I wear, that would have been the end. I retaliate, splitting the swordsman's skull. Behind me, Inari moves with a dancer's grace, lethal as a cobra, not even seeming to breathe. Then the Drow press me hard again and I strike blindly, knowing only that I'm hurting an enemy - and that's all I need to know. The rake along my side burns as I lop off a forearm and kick its owner in the balls. He folds in half and I use the back of the blade to break his neck.
More, always more. How many of these bastards are there? The fury of Tyr comes upon me then and I charge into the fray, my sight all a red mist, cutting and hacking and killing...
When I come back to myself, Inari and I are alone, drenched in blood and surrounded by dead and dying Drow. I can feel my ribs stiffening up and I realize that the bones are probably bruised. The berserker rage recedes, leaving me feeling weak and wiped out.