Post #2815914 in The Gala-Dor Expedition, a roleplay on RPG

Esther’s strikes were swift, silent, and precise. It was as if the shadows themselves came alive to devour the bandits. Their screams dampened into choking gurgles, their blood a stark crimson against the raven’s armour. Meanwhile, Ashera’s arrows pierced scrap iron and flesh alike as if they were butter. Her foresight was faster than the archers’ minds, and none managed to loose another arrow. Two fell from atop the platform, while one more slumped down into a heap. On the ground, the bandits who crowded Orcimedes met similar fates. One by one they fell, arrowheads punching through their chests and eyes.

A thundering boom followed Orcimedes’ mighty toss. Cracks formed on the stone floors, caved in by several tons of iron and muscle. Pieces of armour fell and scattered from Georgina’s body. The giant rat beast wiggled, her body limp and her tail flaccid. Her eyes spun, and spun, and spun. Orcimedes’ gargantuan, cackling form blurred in and out of her vision, coming in as afterimages which slowly merged into one, and…

”Who’s a good girl?!”

Georgina paused. She stared at her foe, upside down, mouth agape, eyes bulging wide, and her tongue draped over her snout. For a moment, Orcimedes could see confusion written all over her face. Or was it just rabies?

Meanwhile, the Bandit Lord clattered and rolled across the stone. He scrambled to his knees with his hands held high. Maria saw the white of his wide, fearstruck eyes in the shadows of his visor. He was disarmed, dismounted, and had just narrowly avoided a gruesome death. There was only one course of action. "WAIT! I yield!" He announced. "We were no match for your party, cleric. I will do whatever you ask, but please…!" He cast his gaze aside. "Please, grant mercy to the rest of my men."

The bandits lied upon puddles of their own blood. Most were still and cold, but a twitching, gasping few clung to the barest thread of life, Ashera's arrows having missed their vitals. A wounded archer reached for the sky with bone-thin fingers. "Witch...witchpowder… please… give it to me…"

The Bandit Lord sighed and averted his eyes. "Sad, isn't it? Once, we held the fate of Arc 'en Lume in our hands." He looked up. "These sewers were another city beneath the surface. We used to have lights everywhere. Lights, life… and believe it or not, the smell of garbage and piss was almost tolerable."

The Bandit Lord's voice darkened. "Then those witches came, peddling their accursed powders. So many of us couldn’t resist. It was only my father and his inner council, at first. But it spread like a plague, and those of our made men who didn’t die were reduced into…”

A dying bandit curled up upon the floor. He clawed at the air and spat out blood.

The Bandit Lord glanced mournfully. “...Beasts.” He looked up towards Maria. “I just want us to be free from this curse. This addiction. But a cure doesn’t come cheap or easy. That’s why we took her, the High Paladin’s granddaughter. Hortensia Hecate Halifax. We sent a letter of ransom, but our demands fell on deaf ears.” He sighed. “Rest assured, I made sure my men left her unharmed.”

Meanwhile, Georgina continued to struggle under Orcimedes’ weight. Her pink paws clawed, flailed, and scratched against the orc, to little effect. “Rrrrroooooo!” She growled through bared, dagger-like fangs in an impotent rage.

The footsteps grew louder. Keys clicked and rustled. The door knob turned, creaked, and opened wide…

...And Anaïs was greeted by the sight of a Sacred Flame guard. His helmet obscured his face, but his tensing body language betrayed his surprise. He drew his blade. “HALT!” Even against a seemingly unarmed woman, the guard would not take any chances. “ Explain yourself, citizen. This room was registered to a dwarf and a drow. And you are neither.” The guard stepped closer, his sabatons thudding against the wooden floorboards. “Speak quickly, before I clap you in irons.”

Snippet #2815914

located in Zoltia, a part of The Gala-Dor Expedition, one of the many universes on RPG.

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