Tis Thursday, and time for my weekly serial. So sit back and enjoy a tale of Ragnar Grimfang and the mean streets of Myrrhn.
Want to read the first post, follow this link.
Want to read last week’s post, follow this link.
“Go!” said Renoit, stroding purposefully toward the armoured Ogre, Varm. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach as I turned and ran. I knew Renoit was a magnificent swordsman, but his blades looked like toothpicks for a monster like Varm. Cursing, I bounded up the stairs, heading deeper in the the Doxies Union headquarters.
Familiarity with the building worked in my favour. I had often worked here in my time under Madame Glorianna’s employ. I knew she had a secure office, I went there first.
I passed more than a few corpses, mostly bodyguards and staff. I recognized some. The Doxies Union had put up a valiant resistance, but they simply weren’t capable of handling an attack like this. Mobs, angry customers, small mercenary bands, and the occasional assassin were nothing compared to the Devout.
I heard screaming in more than a few places as I passed. I kept running. There would be a lot more screaming in the city if this Lord Torvul found Madame Glorianna and the waygate he was looking for.
Rounding a corner, I found a muscular devout holding down a pretty girl by the throat, eager for the rape. I didn’t even break stride. The Devout’s helm gave a satisfying crunch as my hammer came connected. He fell over and the woman gave an enraged cry as she struggled up. As I kept running I heard the sound of something heavy smashing into metal.
I caught a flash of movement from an intersecting corridor and a bolt of some sort, from a Devout or a jumpy Doxie I could not be sure, just missed my head. I cursed myself for losing my helm.
The main entranvce to Madame Glorianna’s fortified office looked like an abattoir. Her bodyguards had gone down fighting, even taking a few of the Devout with them. I heard a voice from within. I took it all in and charged into the room, beseaching Skygge for silence.
I was two steps into the room before anyone noticed me. One of the Devout turned, and I clubbed him in the font of the helm with my hammer, hard enough to knock him off his feet. I saw thin man, scowling, turning away from a terrified looking madame Glorianna. I roared and drove my pick into the head of the second Devout in my way, as two more turned and lifted their shields.
“Lord Torvul, I hope,” I said, pointing my weapon at the thin man. The body of the second Devout crumpled the ground, blood leaking from the hole in his helm.
“Why would you hope such a thing?” asked the man. His voice was cold and casual, almost bored, as his eyes met mine. I saw power there, and a ruthless intelligence.
“Because I hate being wrong twice in one engagement,” I said.
He smiled. “I am indeed Lord Torvul,” He said. “I would ask your name, Nordan, but I doubt I will be using it again.” I started forward, aiming to leap over the two Devout shieldsmen in my way, but before I could take two steps Lord Torvul made a gesture and shouted a word of power. A wave of force smashed into me, sending me careening into the wall hard enough that I came out the other side. Head swimming, I tried to rise.