Sorry for the wait, I was under the impression I had posted on Wednesday for some reason. Without further delay:
Spoiler Alert!
The first thing they saw was Krug’s carcass, still burning, casting a brilliant flickering light over everything. The heat coming from it was intense. Warden had Kara shield them with the spear which blocked most of the heat, though it was still quite warm.
They walked down the hall, Heirloom levitating the machine as they went. The light from Krug slowly diminished, the shadows growing longer and darker. The last vestiges shown upon the corpses of the Infected they had slain, still lying in the hall, before plunging into final darkness. It took Mike a few moments to adjust to Heirloom’s dim blue light. Compared with Chardris’ fire, it was merely a dim glimmer.
They walked on in silence, not speaking, retracing their steps. This time Mike kept his eyes on Warden’s back, and was careful not to bump into any of the Infected they had slain. He was also sure to avoid the pools of blood covering the floor, and the bits that had sprayed on the wall. Even though Kara hadn’t found so much as a scratch on him, the blood could still enter through his nose or mouth.
With Heirloom walking slowly, levitating the machine out in front of him, it took them a long time to reach the exit. Eventually they turned a corner, and Mike saw daylight. Bleak, dry, ash-ridden daylight, yes, but daylight all the same. Under Warden’s eye, they did not break and run for it as Mike wanted to, but remained in an orderly line, escorting Heirloom out of the complex.
Mike felt relieved as the first rays of sunlight struck his face. They were slanting, nearly horizontal, and though he couldn’t see the sun due to all the smoke in the air, he guessed it must be nearly sunset. Kara breathed a sigh of relief behind him, and even Chardris, coming out of the shadowy structure last, looked a bit younger. The good feelings ended quickly.
Warden held up a fist. Exactly one second later, something large, scaly, and of the purest black crashed to the ground directly in front of them. Dust exploded outwards from where it had landed, and the metal flooring beneath their feet vibrated and jerked at the collision. Mike, staggering at the impact, tried to see what it was through the smoke and dust. And then a head lunged into view, dispelling all doubt from his mind.
Spoiler Alert!
Braxas snapped at one of the warforged, who was only able to get out of the way by falling flat and rolling in the opposite direction. Braxas, sensing perhaps that her first target consisted of metal and cloth, looked around for a new victim. Unfortunately, Mike was closest.
Mike flung himself to the ground just in time. He felt and smelled Braxas’ hot breath on his shoulder, and felt the underside of her jaw scrape him as she missed, her teeth closing on air inches from Mike’s head. Mike rolled to the side and brought his gun up, firing blindly at Braxas’ head.
It is difficult to aim after rolling, but the job is made significantly easier when the target is approximately the size of a human torso and only three feet away. Braxas roared in anger as the bullets struck her head, and reared up, allowing the whole of her body to be seen. Unfortunately, every last inch of it was covered in a thick, yellowish carapace.
Braxas’ tail whipped out of nowhere and swung into Mike. Because he had been crouching, he was tossed into the air, allowing him time to land on his shoulder and roll away. Kara was not so fortunate.
Braxas’ tail knocked her legs out from under her, and she fell face-first onto the hard metal covering the ground. Mike saw the Spear of Gerda fly from her hands as she fell. She must have frozen when Braxas attacked, which was why she hadn’t shielded him.
Judging by the blood that quickly stained her face and the way she gasped, Mike guessed the air had been knocked out of her and her nose had been broken. At the same time, he registered that the shoulder where Braxas had scraped him was bleeding. They were both cut, and susceptible to the plague.
Braxas seemed to have lost Mike in the smoke and dust. Instead, she lowered her head over Kara, examining with one glittering eye her feeble attempts to get up. After a moment, she opened her mouth, and took a deep breath.
Mike knew what was coming. He scrambled to get to his gun, which had been knocked from his hand, but he knew he was too late. Braxas would breathe acid, and Kara would be – Mike preferred not to think about exactly what would happen.
Spoiler Alert!
But the acid never came. Braxas merely stood there, mouth open over Kara, looking for all the world as though she were gagging on a bit of food. Mike didn’t stop to wonder why. He grabbed his gun, and fired several rounds into Braxas’ blackened mouth.
The dragon shrieked with pain and fell to the ground. Then, shaking her head just like Krug had done, she lunged for Mike, her snake-like body slithering over the ground.
Mike rolled sideways. Unfortunately, he rolled too soon, meaning that Braxas had time to adjust her trajectory. Mike came up with his feet under him, turned to face Braxas, and promptly was struck in the chest by her head.
Mike fell over backwards, his head reeling. Pain exploded outwards from where Braxas had struck him. It felt as though his entire ribcage was throbbing, pulsing with pain. His breath was coming in gasps, and his lungs felt tight and empty.
Mike was only partially aware of Braxas looming over him, considering him as she had Kara. He struggled to sit up, to get his feet under him, but his arms and legs felt weak. He couldn’t breathe. His gun had been knocked out of his hand again. He was helpless.
Braxas suddenly roared. Mike wondered vaguely what she was waiting for. And then he saw the tip of the blade protruding from her jaw. Looking up with difficulty, he realized that somehow, one of the Warforged had managed to get on top of her head, and had sunk his blade through it to the hilt.
Braxas was merely angry. The plague had long since killed off her brain anyway, meaning she could twist around with ease, throwing the Warforged from her. He went skidding across the metal-covered ground, and finally smashed into a wall, where he did not move. Such a blow, while not deadly, would still stun the warforged for a few moments.
Braxas turned back to Mike. This time she reared up, opened her mouth wide – blade and all – and Mike knew this was it. Despite everything, despite the fact that there was no air in his lungs, despite the fact that he was too weak to move, he forced himself to lunge towards his gun. But it was too far away, and he was too slow. Above him, Braxas dived, her open mouth aimed straight for his head.
A shot rang out, echoing like artillery fire. Mike turned over and saw Braxas convulse, her body bending. He saw the hole ripped straight through her chest, and knew what had happened. With painful slowness, she fell to the ground, her body coiling up on itself and ending with her head, which smashed into the ground inches from Mike with a final, terrible thud.
I like how the nature of the Infected essentially makes them zombies, but still allows for the group to square off with a lot of the famous Heroscape creatures. Keep it up
~TAF, consistently impressed
TAF was the Storyteller...
in THE ENEMY'S LAST RETREAT
Mike winced as the blue light struck him. He could feel his ribs moving beneath his skin, re-aligning themselves, flowing back together. While he knew the alternative was to wait six months for them to heal, he still found the sensation less than desirable.
The light faded, and Kara sat back with a sigh of exhaustion. “Any other injuries?” she asked.
“No,” Mike said. “Are you all right?” he added.
“Healing is tiring. It usually takes my strength to cast the spell, and the patient’s strength to heal. When I heal myself, I have to supply both.” She sighed. “I’m just glad this will all be over soon.”
Mike felt a guilty surge at what he was planning, but quickly shoved it aside. He had been over this too many times. He would rescue his mother. He quickly changed the subject.
“What happened back there?” he asked. “Where did everyone go? One moment we were all together, the next Warden and the others were gone.”
Kara smiled faintly. “You know Warden. He kept Heirloom and the Warforged in place, escorting the machine all the way to the craft, and he stayed with them in case more Infected arrived. Once the machine was safe, he came back for you. I don’t know about Chardris.”
“I was stuck,” said a voice from the back of the craft. Chardris hobbled towards them. “When Braxas landed, she knocked some rubble loose inside the complex. Being the last one out, I was hit by it. When I came to, my leg was pinned under it and I was facing the wrong way. I’m sorry Mike. I should have been there to help.”
“There’s not much you can do with a big rock on top of you,” Mike said. “Don’t worry about it.”
Warden entered the back of the craft. “Kara?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, Warden,” Kara said, standing. “There’s nothing I can do.”
Mike was about to ask what they were talking about until he saw what Kara was holding. It was the Spear of Gerda. The spearhead, which usually emitted a faint blue light, was cracked and dark.
“It got damaged when Braxas knocked me down,” Kara said. “I tried, but… its magic is gone. I won’t be able to shield anyone.”
There was a dead silence as the meaning of her words sunk in.
Warden, apparently deciding to deal with the information at a later time, changed the subject. “There’s nothing we can do about it now, so we move on. Normally we would be heading back right now. Heirloom has secured the machine, and the Warforged only need to activate the cooling system once every two hours. Do note: If no one is here to cool the machine, it will explode, and this craft will be destroyed, meaning we will be stranded here. If not dead.
“So, Chardris,” Warden added, turning to the elf, “You have one hour. We’re circling above the Kinsland soulborg labs. We will help you search, but at the end of one hour, we are leaving, with or without you. Clear?”
“Perfectly clear,” Chardris said calmly.
Listening to the steadiness of his voice, Mike suddenly realized what Chardris was planning. If he hadn’t found Jorhdawn within the hour, he would keep looking. He would stay there. Anything to find his daughter. Mike doubted he would have understood if he himself had not been planning something similar.
Warden seemed to realize the same thing, but after looking at Chardris for a moment, he chose to say nothing and turned away. “We’ll be landing soon. Strap yourselves in.”
Chardris sat down rather heavily. “Look,” he said to Mike and Kara as they sat down beside him, “I know it’s selfish of me, using this mission to find my daughter, but there was no other way. I don’t want to put either of you in any more danger though.”
“I’m going with you,” Mike said before Chardris could finish. “We’ve known each other since before all this began.”
“And I’m coming too,” Kara said. “You’ll need me if anything happens.”
Chardris merely smiled sadly. “I don’t think you understand. You know how the marro hives began to replicate themselves once the apocalypse began? How they began spreading all over Valhalla to control the hordes?”
Both Mike and Kara nodded.
“Well, where we’re headed is the highest concentration of hives in Valhalla. Those soulborg labs remained uninfected for nearly a month after the rest of Kinsland fell, due primarily, I expect, to Jorhdawn. There was plenty of time for the hives to pull every Infected from ten miles around to the spot. Once they took the labs, they simply stayed there, unneeded. This won’t be like the complex we just left. Infected will be everywhere, and we will run into them. You may have gotten lucky when Braxas tried to breath acid, forgetting that most of her internal organs had long since rotted away, but that won’t happen here. Most of the Infected here are marro, meaning they were the first to get the plague. Even my fire will take a while to get through their carapaces.”
“All the more reason for me to come with you,” Kara said before Mike could even open his mouth. “We’re in this together. We either all get through this alive or we don’t.”
“You can’t think like that, Kara,” Chardris said, suddenly stern. “The alliance needs this machine. We can’t afford to make this all or nothing. If I find Jorhdawn and we make it, then we go home. If I don’t make it, then you go home without me. Agreed?”
“But…”
“Agreed?”
Kara glanced at Mike.
“He’s right,” Mike sighed. “This mission is important. We have to get this machine back to Einar. But I’m still going with you, Chardris. My dad would never forgive me for leaving his best friend when it mattered.”
“We’re all going with you,” Warden rumbled from the front of the craft. No one had seen him come back in. “We were all selected for a reason, and we all contribute a critical part to this team. Heirloom’s part is done, so he and the Warforged will provide additional support. Chardris will be our guide, since he knows the likely places Jorhdawn could be. Our top priority is to protect you two,” Warden pointed at Mike and Kara, “from getting infected, so I’ll be right behind Chardris, and you’ll be right behind me. The Warforged will bring up the rear. The craft will circle at a thousand feet while we’re inside. Clear?”
Everyone nodded.
“Good. Then get ready. We’re landing.”
Almost as if on cue, the craft took a sudden plunge. They dove for a mere five seconds, then abruptly leveled out. A moment later, there was a slight bump, and everything was still.
Everyone unstrapped themselves. Chardris looked tense and determined, and did not speak as he lifted his staff from the rack above him. Warden slung his rifle over his back. Mike checked that he had all of his guns. When everyone was ready, they fell into the positions Warden had told them. Warden looked over them one last time, and then opened the door.
Spoiler Alert!
It was dark. It had only taken them a few minutes to travel from the Volcarren to Kinsland, and they had gone west, so the sun had just slipped below the horizon. The undersides of the clouds were still a dark reddish orange.
A cool breeze blew into the craft. The darkness hid most of the destruction wreaked on the countryside by the Infected, meaning that the darkened landscape the craft’s door opened onto was oddly peaceful.
“Move fast and keep your heads down,” Warden said. “Chardris, you lead.”
Chardris leapt to the ground, and everyone followed him. They had landed on the flat roof of a large building which Mike recognized as a soulborg lab. From the designs he had studied, he knew there was only one narrow staircase that descended into the building, and sure enough, not far away was a door, set in a small metal structure that housed the top of the stairs.
Chardris moved off towards the stairs, but Warden suddenly stopped. “Wait a minute…” he said. He turned around. “Duck!”
Mike obediently fell flat, pulling Kara down with him. They were just in time. There was a series of blasts, and several beams of dark green light struck Warden in the chest. He staggered backwards, sank to one knee, and then fell face-first on the ground, where he did not move.
Mike whipped his gun from his side and rolled over so that he was lying on his back. His position afforded him a clear view of the six stingers arrayed behind the craft, their weapons leveled. They had walked directly into an ambush.
Mike pulled the trigger without thinking. A stream of bullets blasted from his gun, slamming into the nearest stinger. The marro staggered backwards as the bullets struck it, its carapace splintering and shattering beneath the onslaught.
Mike maintained some level of awareness as he fired. He realized the other five stingers were preparing to fire again, and correspondingly shared his bullets with them all, so that they all staggered backwards, fragments of carapace flying through the air.
Mike got his feet under him and stood, pulling Kara up with him and shoving her back towards the craft. She staggered a bit on the ramp. Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw the stingers take aim despite his constant fire; she didn’t have enough time.
The battle ended as quickly as it had begun. All Mike saw was a blur hurdle through the air, land, and cast a wave of fire that slammed into four of the stingers. Chardris whirled around to the other side of the ramp, and before the last two marro could even point their weapons at him, incinerated them as well. The entire incident had only lasted about four seconds.
Kara slumped limply against one of the ramp supports, and slid down it into a sitting position. Mike glanced around the roof, but no other marro were in sight. They would be though. His shots had been heard several miles away, especially since he was on the highest point around.
“Is everyone all right?” Mike asked.
“Yes,” Chardris replied, having kicked the last of the burning marro off of the roof. “But Warden isn’t.”
Mike made to move towards Warden, but before he had even taken his first step, the soulborg sat up. Mike knew that soulborgs were sturdy… but Warden had taken six stinger blasts to the chest. Not even a deathwalker could have taken that.
After a moment, Warden rose to one knee, and then stood, his metal frame whirring audibly, rearranging itself, compensating for the damage. The dying bits of flame left on the roof from Chardris’ attack illuminated his crushed armor, casting the rest in deep shadow.
“How – You…” Chardris gasped.
“Vydar was kind enough to make some upgrades to my armor,” Warden replied, taking a shaky step in their direction. “I’ll need a thorough repair once we get back to base, but I’ll operate well enough for now. My sensors and a good number of my calibrators are offline, so keep your eyes open. I won’t be able to see the Infected coming.”
He reached them and put a hand on the ramp for support. “Just give me a moment. I’m not used to walking on my own without a computer calculating every half-step.”
Mike circled around Warden to where Kara sat. She was staring at the place where the marro had fallen. Scraps of burning carapace still littered the area, their lights dancing on the darkened roof.
“Are you all right?” Mike asked.
Kara nodded. “I’ll be fine. It was just a little… sudden, that’s all.”
Mike glanced in the craft, where Heirloom and the warforged still stood. The firefight had been so short that they hadn’t even had time to help. They descended the ramp now, the warforged slowly sheathing their weapons.
“Are you good enough to do this?” Mike asked Warden.
Warden snorted. Coming from him, it sounded like a walrus with indigestion. “Good enough? I’m more than good enough. I’m just not used to operating with half my systems. I’ll be fine, trust me.”
“Then let’s go,” Chardris said. “I don’t want to stay here any longer than anyone else.”
Warden nodded and let go of the ramp. He swayed for a moment, and then steadied himself. Mike offered his hand to Kara and pulled her up, and Heirloom and the warforged fell in behind them.
The instant Kara stepped off of the ramp, it folded back into the craft. Then, with a blast from the engines, the craft took off vertically, sheering away from the roof.
“It will circle until we need it,” Warden said. “Don’t worry, I’ll call it down in time if we need to get out fast. Thankfully my communication circuits aren’t damaged. Lead on, Chardris.”
As the last of the sun fell below the horizon, the seven of them quickly walked to the small metal housing, and Chardris opened the door. The stairs inside descended into pitch black.
“Heirloom, if you would,” Chardris said calmly, igniting a fireball in his left hand. Heirloom ignited his palm, and bolstered with light, Chardris crept down the narrow stairs, being careful not to rattle the metal. Mike, Kara, and the others followed.
Spoiler Alert!
A dark room, wide and very long, spread out from the bottom of the stairs. As the light from Chardris’ fire flickered over it, a grisly sight came into view: piles upon piles of mangled bodies, most of them black with the infection. In addition, the entire scene was covered in some sort of gray dust. Ash, Mike realized. Ash from fire. The ash formed clouds where they walked, silently rising from the floor and the twisted corpses.
Mike thought this must have been some sort of control room. The walls were lined with panels and screens, and he could see several overturned chairs and decimated partitions throughout the room. As they moved through it, he saw a line of desks, overturned and mangled, facing the way they were going. Behind them was a pile of Minute Men, their throats and chests slashed. This had been their last stand. In a corner, Mike could make out the burnt and mutilated form of a huddled woman. He thought he knew why she had died in that position, what she was still protecting from the horde that had attacked her. He had no desire to see if he was right.
They finally reached a corner, and turned into an equally long and narrow hall. This hall too was lined with the corpses of Infected, riddled with bullet holes. Mike stepped carefully, avoiding the pools of dried blood that had spread over the floor. Once they were dry, there was less risk of being contaminated, but it was still a good idea to avoid them.
At the end of the hallway was another narrow metal staircase. This one went in the opposite direction to the hall they had just come from, and descended into darkness, one side against the wall. Mike could feel a change in the air though. He knew they had reached a large room.
“She was here,” Chardris said, raising his flame high. “This is the assembly room, this was their final stand.”
“Chardris,” said Kara doubtfully, “all those Infected… if this was their final stand, I don’t think—”
“She’s alive,” Chardris said calmly. “She’s resourceful, clever. She’s alive.” He flung the fire he held into the air, where it shaped itself into a ball and hung in midair, flaring brightly.
Kara gasped and stepped back. The entire floor of the room below was covered in bodies. Nearly all were black, their yellow carapaces glinting evilly in the flickering light. Chardris vaulted down the stairs and plunged into the mass of corpses.
“Chardris,” Warden shouted from the top of the stairs, “get back here! If you get so much as a scratch down there, you’ll be infected for sure.”
Chardris wasn’t listening. He was turning around in the middle of the room, glancing from body to body. Mike knew he was checking, making sure Jorhdawn wasn’t among them. Suddenly the elf froze.
“No… No. No!” Chardris dashed to the far wall, where Mike could just make out something brown shimmering in the light. It turned out to be hair. Chardris flung aside the bodies in the way with sudden strength, until he uncovered, as Mike had known he would, the crumpled and broken body of an elf. Chardris sank to his knees beside it, and Mike knew that Jorhdawn had been found.
Mike couldn’t say he was surprised. He had hoped though. Jorhdawn was powerful. She had stood a good chance of surviving. The odds had been on her side as much as they could have been in such a situation. If Mike was honest with himself – something he had not allowed for a long time – he knew his mother didn’t have that. Every odd was against her. She had never been in combat; she had never even been within ten miles of the front line. And yet Mike refused to believe what all the logic in the world was telling him. Chardris let out a cry of pure anguish, and Mike thought he understood a small part of the crushing weight of despair the elf must be feeling.
Warden moved past Mike and descended the stairs. He waded through the piles of bodies until he was by Chardris’ side, and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“We’ll take her back with us,” Warden said. “Give her a proper burial – the kind she deserves.”
Chardris didn’t reply. Mike glanced at the others. Heirloom and the warforged were stony faced, but tears shone on Kara’s cheeks. Mike wasn’t sure how he felt. Chardris was a good friend, and he was sad for him; but at the same time, he couldn’t stop thinking about his own mission. Would it end like this too? He shoved the thought from his mind.
“Look out!” cried a voice to Mike’s left. A second later he realized it was Heirloom who had spoken; he had never heard the warforged utter a single word before. Another second later, Mike registered the words. Kara screamed a warning. Infected were pouring into the assembly room from the far wall. A door had been there, hidden by the pile of bodies.
Warden pulled his rifle so fast that all Mike could see was an orange blur: the light of the axe embedded in its barrel. Chardris also leapt to his feet, fire exploding from his hands like great red serpents. Mike whipped his gun up to his eye and aimed into the center of the mass of Infected.
The Infected were still a ways away from Chardris and Warden, hampered by the piles of their own dead. There was still time to escape.
“Come on!” Warden thundered at Chardris. “We have to go!”
“No!” Chardris shouted back, glaring into the midst of the oncoming Infected. “I left my daughter’s side once, and I’ll never do it again!”
“She’s dead!” roared Warden. “There’s nothing you can do!”
There was a moment, very briefly, in which Chardris looked at Warden, and Mike saw the expression on his face. All sound seemed to stop. The Infected themselves seemed to slow down. All time was focused on Chardris.
“You’re right,” he said into dead silence. “My daughter is gone. My mission is done. My life is over.”
And then he faced the Infected.
There was no more time. Warden plunged through the sea of corpses and charged up the stairs. “Go!” he shouted to Mike and the others.
“We can’t leave him!” Mike said. The Infected were only ten feet away from Chardris, climbing over the last of the bodies.
“He’s not coming with us,” Warden said. “Now go!”
Mike would have plunged into the room and gotten Chardris himself. In one part of his mind, he knew exactly how the elf felt. He knew he would never leave. But in another part, every instinct was telling him to get his friend out of danger. Fortunately for Mike, his decision was made for him.
Chardris suddenly lifted his hands above his head, and a corresponding cone of flame surged across his body. He directed the fire up, and then straight into the oncoming Infected. As Warden shoved Mike and the others back into the hall, Mike heard Chardris scream: “You’ll never touch her again, monsters!”
And then the room was filled with flame. Bodies, darkness, the Infected, the walls themselves, all vanished behind a wall of fire so complete that Mike staggered backwards and hit the wall behind him. The heat blasted into him like a blow, and he instinctively ran for cover in the hall, the others in front of him, Warden just behind him. They could still hear Chardris’ yells of fury as they pounded down the dark hallway.
And then they heard something far worse. Something was charging up the staircase behind them. And it was much too heavy for Chardris.
“RUN!!” Warden bellowed from behind Mike. Mike glanced behind him and instantly wished he hadn’t. Silhouetted horribly against the red of the burning assembly room was a figure large enough to fill the hall.
Mike turned back and ran harder. They reached the end of the hall, turned the corner, and charged through the large room, Heirloom’s light weaving ahead of them. And then the Infected crashed into the room, and plunged after them.
They were ahead. The Infected was fast, but Mike knew they could get out in time. “Warden!” he yelled over his shoulder, “signal the craft!”
“Already done!” Warden shouted back. “Oh no. Wait – Wait, it’s—”
The entire building suddenly shook so violently that they were all thrown to the floor. Mike hit his head and tasted blood in his mouth. Behind them, the Infected fell to the floor with a crash that knocked Mike’s head against the floor again. This time the world went dark for a moment, and Mike wasn’t entirely certain of what was going on.
Everything was chaos. Heirloom’s light had gone out. Mike could see the moonlight from the stairs – a faint silvery gray just barely lighter than the surrounding dark. Warden was nowhere to be seen.
“Mike!” It was Kara. She was ahead of him.
“Here!” Mike yelled back, and staggered in her direction. His vision was swimming and his head was throbbing, but he ignored both and kept moving. Get to the stairs, he told himself. Just get to the stairs.
Light struck him in the face. Heirloom had found the door and opened it. “Come on!” he yelled. “This way!”
Mike entered the beam of moonlight the same instant as Kara, and they both ran for the door, Kara a little ahead. It was fortunate that Mike was behind her. It was also fortunate that the light seemed to have cleared his head.
Mike saw it just in time: a beam of dark green light striking the ceiling of the staircase housing, just in front of Kara. Stinger rifles. He pulled her back so fast he was momentarily afraid her neck had snapped.
“Stingers,” he reported to Heirloom, who was just behind them. Without a second’s hesitation, Heirloom leapt to the roof. He was immune to the plague spread by the stingers’ rifles. Mike knew they just had to wait until he cleared them out. A second later, it became clear that waiting was not an option.
Warden appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “What are you doing?” he thundered. “Run!”
As if to emphasize his words, he promptly disappeared back into the darkness, as if pulled from behind. There were a few audible crunches, one horrible thud, and then silence. And then the stairs rattled. Whatever had gotten Warden was coming for them next.
“Go!” Mike yelled, shoving Kara onto the roof. “Go! I’ll cover.”
Mike had no idea what he would do. His bullets were useless against the Infected, and he didn’t even know if the craft was waiting for them. He could be sending Kara to her death. But then he looked behind him, and all other thoughts fled his mind.
A gigantic, black hand was groping its way up the stairs. The hand was followed by a muscular arm, then a rounded shoulder, and then one of the ugliest faces Mike had ever seen.
A feral troll pulled itself up the stairs, twelve feet tall, completely black, glistening with yellow marro carapace. Mike didn’t think. He merely pushed Kara out of the metal housing, faced the troll, and proceeded to empty his magazine into its chest.
The troll roared in anger as the bullets struck it. Shards of carapace flew everywhere, including at Mike. He felt them cut his face, hands, arms, legs, chest – all of him, actually. The troll raised its arms against the attack, and lunged forwards.
Mike had been backpedaling. The problem with running backwards is that you cannot see where you are going, especially when you are faced with a gigantic undead troll. Therefore, Mike, instead of rolling through the door as he had expected, rolled straight into the back wall. The troll landed on top of him a second later.
Mike fought with everything he had, which wasn’t much considering his opponent. The troll slammed into his chest with one powerful swipe of its arm, pinned him to the ground with its legs, and then opened its mouth and went for his head. Mike moved his head to the side quickly, and put his gun where it had been. His magazine was nearly empty, but everything it had left quickly emptied into the troll’s mouth.
The feral troll lunged back, shrieking in agony. Mike knew its distraction wouldn’t last. Ignoring the terrible stabbing pain pounding through his chest, he dragged himself to the door. His only hope was to get out.
Something grabbed his leg. A second later, pain shot up it, forcing a cry from Mike. He looked back. The troll had a hold of Mike’s leg, and it wasn’t using its hands. Mike stared blankly at the teeth sunk deeply into his leg, dripping black saliva. That was it. He was infected. Then the troll pulled and Mike slid back towards it.
New strength and fury seemed to fill Mike. He was infected now. There was nothing else the troll could do to him short of killing him, and that was inevitable anyway. The least he could do was keep it distracted and allow the others time to get away.
As it turned out, Mike’s last stand was meant for another day. Just as the troll was preparing for the final blow, just as Mike had pulled out both his pistols and leveled them at the troll’s chest, a thunderous shot rang out.
The troll’s chest split open as the massive bullet soared straight through it, narrowly missing Mike. With a terrible cry, the troll exploded, its carapace flying away from it. Black blood flew in every direction, drenching Mike from head to toe. Any doubt that he was infected was instantly dispelled. Through the black haze, Mike saw Warden standing at the top of the stairs, his gun smoking, his left arm badly mangled. And then Mike’s injuries claimed him, as the darkness was complete.
After chapter four, I was wondering two things. What was going on with Braxas, and what took the Warden so long. Thanks for clearing those up. AND they both make sense too . I was surprised they weren't infected after being smacked around by the black dragon. Seems like the troll took care of Mike on that end though.
After chapter four, I was wondering two things. What was going on with Braxas, and what took the Warden so long. Thanks for clearing those up. AND they both make sense too . I was surprised they weren't infected after being smacked around by the black dragon. Seems like the troll took care of Mike on that end though.
I seem to have a reputation for characters narrowly escaping and/or not dying/returning to life. Because of that, when someone gets infected, I make absolutely sure that you know it.
Spoiler Alert!
Consciousness returned to Mike, but he didn’t open his eyes. Infected. So this is what it felt like. He didn’t feel much different, save for a strange coldness in the tips of his fingers. This isn’t over, he told himself. I didn’t come all this way for nothing. Infected or not, I will rescue my mother. He had time. He knew he had some time before he turned. He only hoped they hadn’t gone too far from Kinsland. How long had he been out?
He opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Kara’s light brown hair hiding her face as she bent over him. She must be healing him, which would explain the lack of pain. His eyes traveled beyond her, to the metal walls of the craft. So they were traveling then. He had to know how far they had gotten.
Kara looked up and saw that he was awake. “I mended all your injuries,” she said. Her tone was formal, but Mike could sense the fear in it. She was afraid of him, of what was inside him. After the troll, he couldn’t blame her.
“How long?” he asked. His voice came out a hoarse whisper.
“A few hours,” Kara replied. “Warden says if we hurry, we might be able to stop it… maybe… but—”
“I meant the flight,” Mike croaked, sitting up. “How long have we been in the air?”
Kara blinked. “What? Only – Only about thirty minutes, but—”
Mike breathed a sigh of relief. They were still plenty close to where he knew his mother was hiding.
“Mike,” came Warden’s voice from behind him.
Mike turned as the soulborg came limping into view. He had never seen a soulborg limp. It was a miracle he was walking at all; a good half of his leg was gone. In addition, his left arm was bent and torn completely out of shape. His chest was dented and caved in at several points, and his head had been partially crushed. It felt odd hearing a voice coming from something that looked like it had been crushed by Mimring and Tor-Kul-Na.
“You looked worse, believe me,” Warden said, noting Mike’s examination of him. “I won’t go into the specifics.”
Mike remembered what Kara had said about healing being tiring, and glanced at her. Now that he saw her properly, he saw that she looked half asleep already. “You should rest,” he said to her.
Kara nodded. “I will in a minute.”
“You should rest too,” Warden said to Mike.
“I’m fine,” Mike said, standing. He felt sore, but for all the damage the troll had done, he felt ready to tackle it again. Not that he wanted to, of course.
“It’s not that,” said Warden. “The faster your blood pumps, the faster the plague circulates. It will go the slowest if you rest and don’t move. We already lost Chardris; I don’t intend to lose you too.”
Chardris. So much time seemed to have passed since they found Jorhdawn, and yet so little. The memory was still fresh, and not one Mike wanted to recall just yet.
Warden continued, devoid of emotion. “It will be tight, but we should be able to get you back to the base soon enough. If the infection hasn’t entered your bone marrow by then, we may be able to save you. Maybe.”
Mike sat, temporarily distracted from thinking about Chardris. “You’re saying,” he said slowly, his mind still processing it, “that I could live?”
“If we get there soon enough,” Warden said, nodding. “There’s a procedure the healers have come up with; it should at least slow the infection if nothing else.”
Mike took a deep breath. It was time for the truth. “What’s the lag time?” he asked. “How long before we arrive and the procedure needs to begin?”
Warden contemplated him for a moment. “In your condition… an hour, maybe a bit more. That’s assuming we can go straight there without any problems or interruptions.” An hour. It was enough. Barely, but it was enough. Mike was too close to give up now. His mother was mere minutes away, he knew it.
The ship’s voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. “Warden, we have a storm system up ahead. I think we can get there first, but you should keep an eye on it just in case.”
Warden turned to the cockpit.
“Lie down and get some rest,” Kara said, placing a hand on Mike’s chest and gently pushing him down. “I’ll see what this storm is about.” She followed Warden out of the room.
Spoiler Alert!
Mike had no intention of resting. He waited until Kara was out of sight, and then dug in his pocket until he pulled out the device he had been given. The light, before dark, now shone red. It was in range. This was his last chance.
Mike weighed the odds. He carried the plague. If he tried to rescue his mother now, there was a good chance he would become infected himself. And from the sound of things, there was an incoming storm in their path that would delay them further if they changed course. But Mike had come too far. He had planned this moment from the second his mother disappeared back into the building crawling with Infected.
Mike got up, hiding the program up his sleeve. He knew what he had to do.
The craft seemed unusually long as Mike walked through it. He crossed the back room and entered the middle section, where the machine was kept, tended carefully by Heirloom and the warforged. Up ahead was the cockpit.
Kara met him at the doorway. “Mike!” she said. “You shouldn’t be up! Warden said—”
“I know what Warden said,” Mike sighed. “I just have to do something, then I’ll rest, I promise.” He moved past her into the cockpit.
The cockpit was divided into two sections, one behind the other. The first section was large, its walls layered with panels and dials. The second section, where Mike needed to go, held the actual controls in case the craft ever needed to be manually flown.
Warden was in the first section, and looked up as Mike entered. Mike thought he saw an inkling of the truth dawn on the soulborg’s metal face for a fraction of a second. “Mike…?”
Mike didn’t answer. He crossed the room, entered the cockpit, and pulled the door closed, bolting it as he did so. He had studied the design of this ship, and knew that the door would be able to even take a blast from Warden’s gun.
“What are you doing, Mike?” the craft asked calmly.
Mike sat in one of the pilot chairs and started looking for the port he needed. “Just a little detour,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“You’re infected,” the craft reminded him. “You don’t have time for a detour.”
Mike had found the port. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, weighing what he was about to do.
“I know.”
And then he plunged the program into the port, and instantly the craft turned. There was no turning back now. They were headed for Mike’s mother.
Stupid man. I do not approve lol. Hope this all pans out.
It may be stupid, but would you just leave her there on your only chance to get her out?
~TGRF.
Lol I agreed with him until he got infected he's putting his entire party at risk for a fools hope lol. Ntm the fate of the world if they don't get that device.
But it is a very human decision I'll grant that lol.
No I agree the machine thingy is far more important, you'd think the Chardris-Jorhdawn debacle would help him come to terms with the realism of his plans, but yes it is a very human decision.
~TAF
TAF was the Storyteller...
in THE ENEMY'S LAST RETREAT
January 28th, 2016, 05:57 PM
William099 is Lord of Blades...
TAF was the Storyteller... 
. I was surprised they weren't infected after being smacked around by the black dragon. Seems like the troll took care of Mike on that end though.
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