The voices are like vines,
tripping and choking thoughts.
Solitude is non-existent,
only in desire.
Feelings are like fear,
as one doesn't know what to do with them.
Words are empty spaces,
meant to counsel.
The reflections in the mirror are shattered,
to hide you from yourself.
Blackend
Life is but an illusion,
hanging from a wall.
What once was, will never be,
what is, will never become.
As i sit in my mental isolation,
i can't help think of my anihalation.
Alone i sit, behind a wall,
a wall of thought, misunderstood by all.
My world is blackend, nothing more to see,
blackend, looks whats left of me.
Come a little closer, look into my eyes,
do you see the fire, in my skies?
The light is shinning through,
nightmares about you.
Dreams are my compainionship,
why don't you get ahold of it.
My world is blackend, nothing more tosee.
blackend, looks whats left of me.
Your minds are inraged,
to you, life and death are not the same.
come to me, and you will see,
never more, not tonight,
it's not the same, everythings alright.
Blackend, blackend.
Look whats left of me.
Testamony of The Beast
The wolves carry my name,
in their midnight speaches.
A voice much closer to home,
shouts into my heart with unholy impatience.
One thousand and one moons,
hung overhead.
I'm growing old,
soon i shall be dead.
I have found the gates,
that lead to the otherside.
Standing atop temples,
built to the gods.
The testimony i preach,
shall be learned.
All i have seen,
shall be heard.
For the chaledon's roam free.
I have found fear,
i have raised the dead.
Things subjected,
only unto me.
The book of the Black Earth,
is now my home.
Waiting and dreaming,
for my departure.
The ancient ones,
tell of tales.
Of the beginning,
for which i have seen.
Close all gates,
as the vapor of death,
shall toll my bell.
The chaledon's roam free.
The chaledon's roam free
in their midnight speaches.
A voice much closer to home,
shouts into my heart with unholy impatience.
One thousand and one moons,
hung overhead.
I'm growing old,
soon i shall be dead.
I have found the gates,
that lead to the otherside.
Standing atop temples,
built to the gods.
The testimony i preach,
shall be learned.
All i have seen,
shall be heard.
For the chaledon's roam free.
I have found fear,
i have raised the dead.
Things subjected,
only unto me.
The book of the Black Earth,
is now my home.
Waiting and dreaming,
for my departure.
The ancient ones,
tell of tales.
Of the beginning,
for which i have seen.
Close all gates,
as the vapor of death,
shall toll my bell.
The chaledon's roam free.
The chaledon's roam free
The Passing
the shallow halls are silent,
memories of distant past come forth.
screams of laughter and hate invade the mind,
but what once was a terrible accident.
shall soon come to rest for on this spot.
he did say the chosen words,
that made him what he is today .
the invisible guest, the poet, the martyr
but his spirit lives on for in these
halls he once spoke,
words from the heart now that heart
is divided no more shall it be one
as the visions of the past arise,
may he rest in peace,
with closed eye's he was a poet,
of all sorts romance, laughter and horror
but in the end, he was a man, with clouded vision
his feelings were spilled in blood
on the parchment of space everyone
read what he wrote, letting him slide on a high note as time went on,
he sat there and watched people wanted more,
they drained him dry he left for a crusade
the personal kind and when he came back,
all his friends were few to find...
so he laid his head to rest,
one cold and lonely night when his eye's closed,
they closed for the last time.
now all i said is true i say
ghost writer walks his way,
he may come in from time to time,
but then again, i may be lying.
who know's what this man will do,
not even i, his other you.
memories of distant past come forth.
screams of laughter and hate invade the mind,
but what once was a terrible accident.
shall soon come to rest for on this spot.
he did say the chosen words,
that made him what he is today .
the invisible guest, the poet, the martyr
but his spirit lives on for in these
halls he once spoke,
words from the heart now that heart
is divided no more shall it be one
as the visions of the past arise,
may he rest in peace,
with closed eye's he was a poet,
of all sorts romance, laughter and horror
but in the end, he was a man, with clouded vision
his feelings were spilled in blood
on the parchment of space everyone
read what he wrote, letting him slide on a high note as time went on,
he sat there and watched people wanted more,
they drained him dry he left for a crusade
the personal kind and when he came back,
all his friends were few to find...
so he laid his head to rest,
one cold and lonely night when his eye's closed,
they closed for the last time.
now all i said is true i say
ghost writer walks his way,
he may come in from time to time,
but then again, i may be lying.
who know's what this man will do,
not even i, his other you.
The Candle
Lightning crashes as the rain blows,
shadows appear from nowhere.
To dance like ghosts.
You awake to the cries of a child,
to light a candle and go see.
Everyone's sleeping,
and you smile down upon thee.
Smoke from the candle rises up to follow,
slowly behind.
Lightning crashes, the wind howls loud,
temporarily your blind.
Candle light flickers,
streams of flowing wax.
As you lay your head to rest,
you just know.
Happy to see the candle lit your way,
tomorrow brings another day.
shadows appear from nowhere.
To dance like ghosts.
You awake to the cries of a child,
to light a candle and go see.
Everyone's sleeping,
and you smile down upon thee.
Smoke from the candle rises up to follow,
slowly behind.
Lightning crashes, the wind howls loud,
temporarily your blind.
Candle light flickers,
streams of flowing wax.
As you lay your head to rest,
you just know.
Happy to see the candle lit your way,
tomorrow brings another day.
The Mask
As the night makes it way across the sky,
No one knows they're gonna die.
The blame cannot be put,
anywhere other than it should.
Silent and unspoken,
figures dance the dance.
History says it pays to take the chance.
But no one seems to learn,
that ignorance is nothing yearned.
When the smoke clears and all is seen,
nothing looks as it seems.
Fingers pointing this way and that,
but who wants to wear the hat?
For i have seen a lot,
murders,muggings, shooting's and rape.
People turn their heads for escape.
But when will we realize,
that what we do is scrutinize.
That we must start in the beginning,
to make this world a safe place for
a child to live in.
No one knows they're gonna die.
The blame cannot be put,
anywhere other than it should.
Silent and unspoken,
figures dance the dance.
History says it pays to take the chance.
But no one seems to learn,
that ignorance is nothing yearned.
When the smoke clears and all is seen,
nothing looks as it seems.
Fingers pointing this way and that,
but who wants to wear the hat?
For i have seen a lot,
murders,muggings, shooting's and rape.
People turn their heads for escape.
But when will we realize,
that what we do is scrutinize.
That we must start in the beginning,
to make this world a safe place for
a child to live in.
Hell's Scream
The night fog slowly clamored across the ground in Darkshire. The eerie sounds
of the creatures that roamed the lands echoed in the stillness of the dark. Small lanterns lit
the windows of the inn, as its patrons paid no attention to the outside world. The Black
Rose Tavern was a live with the sounds of conversation coming from the patrons.
As the barmaids made their way across the semi crowded floor, the door swung
open. Silence fell across the room. Who would be wandering around in the night?
Especially in a place like this were evil is abound like the fears of a child. Making his
way to a table in the corner, an elf from the other side of the realm takes a seat. All eyes
watch him closely. Though these elves were known, they were seldom seen in Darkshire.
The elf slid his cape to the side and laid his massive metal blade across the table. Eying
the bar maid, he nodded his head. The wench cautiously made her way over to this
creature of the night. The horror stories she has heard of, these elves could be very
vicious when they wanted to. Even without being provoked.
As the bar maid took the elf’s order, the door opened again. This time a woman,
looking as though she has been in battle every day of her life, stumbled in. Her skin pale
from lack of sunlight, enhanced her features. Her long reddish hair flowed freely over her
shoulders. Dirt marked every part of her face. Dried blood mixed with the dirt hid the
scars on her hands. Every eye in the tavern was on this woman. Some of the patrons
wanted to get up and help her. But they all stood fast. Who was this woman? Why was
she walking the woods at night? Thoughts entered every soul in the tavern. Some not so
innocent and some so frightening, that the patrons quickly turned away from her.
Scanning the room, she eyed the night elf. Making her way across the room, she tossed a
small sack onto the table. Silent eyes gazed upon the sack. Minds could only wonder
what was inside, because neither the woman nor the elf were saying anything. They just
stared at each other. The woman pulled up a chair to the table and sat. She rested her
dented shield next to the wall and her mace on top of the table next to the elf’s massive
metal blade.
As the patrons began going about their business, before they were interrupted by
the strangers, the woman and elf began a hushed conversation. A few patrons tried to
over hear what was being said, but they would not make out the tongue. And every so
often, the woman and elf would shoot deadly glares at the eaves droppers.
“Well Dark, everything is ready. We can leave in the morning.” The woman
touted. Sipping her ale that the bar maid brought her.
“Sounds good Del, but there’s one problem.” The elf adjusted his armor.
“There are two of us and hundreds of them.”
The two strangers just stared at each other. Each wanting to accomplish the task at
hand, but both knew that they would need help. But who would they get? Who could they
get? They knew no one in this area of the realm.
… “He’s coming. Stitches is coming.” Came a booming voice form outside. The
patrons inside the tavern began scuffling for a hiding place, while very few picked up
their arms and headed for the door. Delshae and Darkskye looked at each other and
smirked. They grabbed their weapons and headed for the door to join the others who had
already made their way out.
The fog had risen to waist high as they sat in the tavern. The full moon cast
dancing shadows around the center square. Off in the distance, deep thuds echoed
through the night. The townsfolk that were in the square gathered with their weapons.
What few guards Dakshire had, stood their ground next to the fountain in the center
square. The sounds of evil seem to be coming from all directions. Everyone kept looking
around the square to see where this abomination would emerge from.
Stitches, the infamous undead giant of Duskwood. Every so often, he would
appear to wreak havoc on the townsfolk and the surrounding creatures. He laid waste to
anything in his path. Many a true warrior had come from afar to try and defeat this
monstrosity, but no one had succeeded as of yet. The local mortician was always happy
to see business pick up. But at one point thought he would be out of business, because
Stitches had killed so many, he had to import coffins from the city of Stormwind to help
bury the fallen.
As Delshae and Darkskye stood there watching, they noticed a pair of dwarves
standing outside the blacksmiths shop. Both seemed eager for action, but what could a
couple of stout dwarves do to a giant four times the size their own size? Though both Del
and Dark have seen some great dwarven warriors in the past, nothing would or could
compare to the battle they were about to set their eyes upon. Even in Mo’Grosh where the
ogres have magic and the battles always seem to be the last one, one would fight won’t
compare to this.
Just as Delshae and Darkskye turned their attention to the western road, the
monstrosity known as Stitches came crashing through the trees. Eyes glowing yellow,
puss dripping from his wounds, fear began to set in. Like dragon fear, the townsfolk were
scared in the places. One even wet his pants before he fainted.
Orders were being barked by the Dakshire guards. Townsfolk were now turning
into warriors. “Over there, you three, take stand and flank from the right.” One guard
yelled. Delshae glanced around to get a look of the movement, when she noticed the two
dwarves taking a few steps back into the recess of the blacksmiths shop. She laughed
inside at the site. A little more then they could handle she thought. Then a glint of metal
caught her attention. A quick flash came from one of the dwarf’s chest. Not the flash of
armor but a small item. Like an idol or totem of some sort, a holy symbol.
“Hmmm.” She murmured to herself. A warrior of light, a paladin like herself. She
watched as the other dwarf rumbled around inside of a small sack and pulled something
out. Just then the cries of the dead started piercing the ears of townsfolk. Stitches started
his campaign of destruction. Delshae turned toward the abomination, to see townsfolk
rushing in and swinging their weapons. All with little or no effect on the undead giant.
Darkskye stood there with her watching the events unfold like a child’s circus. Darkskye
held his blade with a tight grip. Watching the townsfolk fall like rag dolls, Dark knew it
would only be a matter of minutes before Stitches was close enough for combat. With
that, Darkskye switched his stance but held tight. He needed to wait for the right moment
to strike.
Why are we even fighting this thing Delshae thought to herself? This is not what
we came here to do. “We can’t take any chances Dark, we need to get to Morbent.”
Delshae yelled over the screams of the dying. Suddenly all eyes turned on her. The
townsfolk forgot what stood before them. The word Morbent only meant one thing. More
death and destruction is coming. Stitches swiped across the last remaining townsfolk left,
leaving only the guards, the two dwarves, Delshae and Dark. Twisted bodies flew
through the air and landed with a thud.
“Three hundred…two hundred...” Darkskye was counting to himself. “I know
Del, but this must be dealt with as well. Since were here, what better time…one hundred”
Dark counted. Suddenly a bright flash of light came from their right. The dwarf with the
holy symbol cast some sort of spell on himself and charged the abomination. The second
dwarf, stepped out away from the building and glanced over at Dark. Dark knew what it
meant, even without the exchange of words. Darkskye lowered his shoulder and charged
full speed at Stitches. Both the dwarf and Darkskye reached Stitches at the same time.
In the split second before Darkskye’s blade sliced at Stitches, he let out a
booming yell. As his blade made contact with the undead giant, an invisible force seemed
to push his blade deeper into the rotting flesh. The dwarf yelled as he made contact with
the knee cap of Stitches. Not only driving his mace into the bones, but a blast of holy
light came crashing through the darkened clouds, enveloping the giant causing him teeter.
Both the dwarf and Darkskye stepped through their swings, turning and facing the giant’s
backside. Stitches regained his balance and turned on the two warriors, coming down fast
with both fists. As the two warriors tried to side step the incoming attack, Darkskye
slipped and Stitches caught him with a glancing blow, knocking him to the ground.
“Dark!” Delshae screamed. If he was to be injured, or even killed, their mission
would not be able to be completed. Delshae pulled her mace and charged the undead
creature. The other dwarf started to mumble and a rain of blue lights came forth from the
dark sky and rained down upon the undead abomination. Stitches reared his head in pain.
What ever the dwarf did seemed to cause some damage. Damage that was going to help
them overcome this creature and possible survive. The remaining guards saw a chance
and charged. They grabbed hold of the creature’s massive legs to try and take him down.
Stitches only threw them off with very little effort. Seeing this effect, Delshae yelled out,
“Dwarf, again.” She gripped her mace with both hands and got ready to strike with all of
her might.
As Stitches regained his focus, he raised both of his hands and brought them
crashing down towards the fallen Darkskye. The dwarf rolled through the giant’s legs and
came up facing the creature. Darkskye rolled out of the way as the club like hands came
crashing down and slammed into the ground. As the dwarf stood there ready to attack, he
turned toward Delshae, “jump!” he yelled. Just then he took a crouching stance, making a
leaping platform for her to take off from. As she neared the crouching dwarf, Delshae let
out a loud war cry. Very similar to what she saw the dwarf do just moments ago, a bolt of
light came crashing down onto the giants head. Just then, Delshae stepped onto the
dwarfs back and leapt with all her might. She came roaring down on the back of the
abomination and buried her mace into the back of its skull. Suddenly more rain of blue
light came raining down on them. Stitches wrenched in pain. As he reached over his
shoulders to grab Delshae, she lost her footing and came tumbling down, landing hard on
the ground. Stitches turned, screaming in pain. Delshae stumbled to her feet. As she
raised her head, it was as if she became possessed by the fall. Her eyes shown no fear, her
jaw clenched and she stood rigid. As Dark made it to his feet, he glanced over. He saw
this before, it was not good. Not just for the intended target of her wraith, but for her
health as well. The dwarf standing back by the blacksmiths shop came running up. He too
knew what was coming. But only from seeing it from his traveling companion.
Stitches reared his head in agony and stepped toward Delshae. The dwarven
warrior knew that if she was to pull this off, she would need a split second. The dwarf
turned toward Dark and motioned towards the giant. Dark knew they had to be precise
with their strike, or Delshae was dead. Delshae began to mumble. The words were in a
tongue that only few could understand. She raised her hands, and a glowing ball started to
form around her. As the orb of light started to grow, the second dwarf stopped and began
to cast his own spell. His target, Delshae. He knew that he must be just as accurate as the
other two if this were to succeed.
As the orb grew bigger, Stitches was on target. His clubbing hands came down
forth from what seemed like hell. The eerie scream he bellowed made what small
creatures that where in the area run for cover. The rafters of the buildings trembled and
shingles fell off the structures. The orb of light almost reached its maximum size. Dark
looked over at the dwarf, waiting for the sign. “Now!” the dwarf yelled. Stitches hands
were just a few feet from crushing Delshaes’ head. In the split second that followed, both
the dwarf and Darkskye landed clubbing blows on the undead abomination, stunning him.
The dwarven caster let loose his spell, enveloping Delshae in a white aura. The orb of
light that surrounded Delshae flew straight up towards the sky.
Time seemed to stand still for everyone. Did they make it in time? Did this
creature from hell make it to his target?
Suddenly a thundering wave of noise came bellowing from the sky, knocking both
dwarves and Darkskye to the ground. A bright flash of light and a mystical hammer came
forth crashing down upon the undead monstrosity. A vacuum of air swirled around and
the undead creature, disintegrating it on the spot, leaving a pile of dust behind. Delshae stood
wavering for a moment before falling to the ground. Blood trickled from her mouth and
she lay twitching.
Coming to, Darkskye crawled to his feet. “Del,” he yelled. “Delshae!” He ran
over to her, trying to bring her to. As Darkskye patted Delshae on her face, he felt a hand
on his shoulder. “She will be alright if we get her a warm bed. She is a brave soul.” The
paladin spoke softly. “I’m Aeromantu. My priest friend here is Hepius Rockfall. Let’s get
her inside the tavern.”
of the creatures that roamed the lands echoed in the stillness of the dark. Small lanterns lit
the windows of the inn, as its patrons paid no attention to the outside world. The Black
Rose Tavern was a live with the sounds of conversation coming from the patrons.
As the barmaids made their way across the semi crowded floor, the door swung
open. Silence fell across the room. Who would be wandering around in the night?
Especially in a place like this were evil is abound like the fears of a child. Making his
way to a table in the corner, an elf from the other side of the realm takes a seat. All eyes
watch him closely. Though these elves were known, they were seldom seen in Darkshire.
The elf slid his cape to the side and laid his massive metal blade across the table. Eying
the bar maid, he nodded his head. The wench cautiously made her way over to this
creature of the night. The horror stories she has heard of, these elves could be very
vicious when they wanted to. Even without being provoked.
As the bar maid took the elf’s order, the door opened again. This time a woman,
looking as though she has been in battle every day of her life, stumbled in. Her skin pale
from lack of sunlight, enhanced her features. Her long reddish hair flowed freely over her
shoulders. Dirt marked every part of her face. Dried blood mixed with the dirt hid the
scars on her hands. Every eye in the tavern was on this woman. Some of the patrons
wanted to get up and help her. But they all stood fast. Who was this woman? Why was
she walking the woods at night? Thoughts entered every soul in the tavern. Some not so
innocent and some so frightening, that the patrons quickly turned away from her.
Scanning the room, she eyed the night elf. Making her way across the room, she tossed a
small sack onto the table. Silent eyes gazed upon the sack. Minds could only wonder
what was inside, because neither the woman nor the elf were saying anything. They just
stared at each other. The woman pulled up a chair to the table and sat. She rested her
dented shield next to the wall and her mace on top of the table next to the elf’s massive
metal blade.
As the patrons began going about their business, before they were interrupted by
the strangers, the woman and elf began a hushed conversation. A few patrons tried to
over hear what was being said, but they would not make out the tongue. And every so
often, the woman and elf would shoot deadly glares at the eaves droppers.
“Well Dark, everything is ready. We can leave in the morning.” The woman
touted. Sipping her ale that the bar maid brought her.
“Sounds good Del, but there’s one problem.” The elf adjusted his armor.
“There are two of us and hundreds of them.”
The two strangers just stared at each other. Each wanting to accomplish the task at
hand, but both knew that they would need help. But who would they get? Who could they
get? They knew no one in this area of the realm.
… “He’s coming. Stitches is coming.” Came a booming voice form outside. The
patrons inside the tavern began scuffling for a hiding place, while very few picked up
their arms and headed for the door. Delshae and Darkskye looked at each other and
smirked. They grabbed their weapons and headed for the door to join the others who had
already made their way out.
The fog had risen to waist high as they sat in the tavern. The full moon cast
dancing shadows around the center square. Off in the distance, deep thuds echoed
through the night. The townsfolk that were in the square gathered with their weapons.
What few guards Dakshire had, stood their ground next to the fountain in the center
square. The sounds of evil seem to be coming from all directions. Everyone kept looking
around the square to see where this abomination would emerge from.
Stitches, the infamous undead giant of Duskwood. Every so often, he would
appear to wreak havoc on the townsfolk and the surrounding creatures. He laid waste to
anything in his path. Many a true warrior had come from afar to try and defeat this
monstrosity, but no one had succeeded as of yet. The local mortician was always happy
to see business pick up. But at one point thought he would be out of business, because
Stitches had killed so many, he had to import coffins from the city of Stormwind to help
bury the fallen.
As Delshae and Darkskye stood there watching, they noticed a pair of dwarves
standing outside the blacksmiths shop. Both seemed eager for action, but what could a
couple of stout dwarves do to a giant four times the size their own size? Though both Del
and Dark have seen some great dwarven warriors in the past, nothing would or could
compare to the battle they were about to set their eyes upon. Even in Mo’Grosh where the
ogres have magic and the battles always seem to be the last one, one would fight won’t
compare to this.
Just as Delshae and Darkskye turned their attention to the western road, the
monstrosity known as Stitches came crashing through the trees. Eyes glowing yellow,
puss dripping from his wounds, fear began to set in. Like dragon fear, the townsfolk were
scared in the places. One even wet his pants before he fainted.
Orders were being barked by the Dakshire guards. Townsfolk were now turning
into warriors. “Over there, you three, take stand and flank from the right.” One guard
yelled. Delshae glanced around to get a look of the movement, when she noticed the two
dwarves taking a few steps back into the recess of the blacksmiths shop. She laughed
inside at the site. A little more then they could handle she thought. Then a glint of metal
caught her attention. A quick flash came from one of the dwarf’s chest. Not the flash of
armor but a small item. Like an idol or totem of some sort, a holy symbol.
“Hmmm.” She murmured to herself. A warrior of light, a paladin like herself. She
watched as the other dwarf rumbled around inside of a small sack and pulled something
out. Just then the cries of the dead started piercing the ears of townsfolk. Stitches started
his campaign of destruction. Delshae turned toward the abomination, to see townsfolk
rushing in and swinging their weapons. All with little or no effect on the undead giant.
Darkskye stood there with her watching the events unfold like a child’s circus. Darkskye
held his blade with a tight grip. Watching the townsfolk fall like rag dolls, Dark knew it
would only be a matter of minutes before Stitches was close enough for combat. With
that, Darkskye switched his stance but held tight. He needed to wait for the right moment
to strike.
Why are we even fighting this thing Delshae thought to herself? This is not what
we came here to do. “We can’t take any chances Dark, we need to get to Morbent.”
Delshae yelled over the screams of the dying. Suddenly all eyes turned on her. The
townsfolk forgot what stood before them. The word Morbent only meant one thing. More
death and destruction is coming. Stitches swiped across the last remaining townsfolk left,
leaving only the guards, the two dwarves, Delshae and Dark. Twisted bodies flew
through the air and landed with a thud.
“Three hundred…two hundred...” Darkskye was counting to himself. “I know
Del, but this must be dealt with as well. Since were here, what better time…one hundred”
Dark counted. Suddenly a bright flash of light came from their right. The dwarf with the
holy symbol cast some sort of spell on himself and charged the abomination. The second
dwarf, stepped out away from the building and glanced over at Dark. Dark knew what it
meant, even without the exchange of words. Darkskye lowered his shoulder and charged
full speed at Stitches. Both the dwarf and Darkskye reached Stitches at the same time.
In the split second before Darkskye’s blade sliced at Stitches, he let out a
booming yell. As his blade made contact with the undead giant, an invisible force seemed
to push his blade deeper into the rotting flesh. The dwarf yelled as he made contact with
the knee cap of Stitches. Not only driving his mace into the bones, but a blast of holy
light came crashing through the darkened clouds, enveloping the giant causing him teeter.
Both the dwarf and Darkskye stepped through their swings, turning and facing the giant’s
backside. Stitches regained his balance and turned on the two warriors, coming down fast
with both fists. As the two warriors tried to side step the incoming attack, Darkskye
slipped and Stitches caught him with a glancing blow, knocking him to the ground.
“Dark!” Delshae screamed. If he was to be injured, or even killed, their mission
would not be able to be completed. Delshae pulled her mace and charged the undead
creature. The other dwarf started to mumble and a rain of blue lights came forth from the
dark sky and rained down upon the undead abomination. Stitches reared his head in pain.
What ever the dwarf did seemed to cause some damage. Damage that was going to help
them overcome this creature and possible survive. The remaining guards saw a chance
and charged. They grabbed hold of the creature’s massive legs to try and take him down.
Stitches only threw them off with very little effort. Seeing this effect, Delshae yelled out,
“Dwarf, again.” She gripped her mace with both hands and got ready to strike with all of
her might.
As Stitches regained his focus, he raised both of his hands and brought them
crashing down towards the fallen Darkskye. The dwarf rolled through the giant’s legs and
came up facing the creature. Darkskye rolled out of the way as the club like hands came
crashing down and slammed into the ground. As the dwarf stood there ready to attack, he
turned toward Delshae, “jump!” he yelled. Just then he took a crouching stance, making a
leaping platform for her to take off from. As she neared the crouching dwarf, Delshae let
out a loud war cry. Very similar to what she saw the dwarf do just moments ago, a bolt of
light came crashing down onto the giants head. Just then, Delshae stepped onto the
dwarfs back and leapt with all her might. She came roaring down on the back of the
abomination and buried her mace into the back of its skull. Suddenly more rain of blue
light came raining down on them. Stitches wrenched in pain. As he reached over his
shoulders to grab Delshae, she lost her footing and came tumbling down, landing hard on
the ground. Stitches turned, screaming in pain. Delshae stumbled to her feet. As she
raised her head, it was as if she became possessed by the fall. Her eyes shown no fear, her
jaw clenched and she stood rigid. As Dark made it to his feet, he glanced over. He saw
this before, it was not good. Not just for the intended target of her wraith, but for her
health as well. The dwarf standing back by the blacksmiths shop came running up. He too
knew what was coming. But only from seeing it from his traveling companion.
Stitches reared his head in agony and stepped toward Delshae. The dwarven
warrior knew that if she was to pull this off, she would need a split second. The dwarf
turned toward Dark and motioned towards the giant. Dark knew they had to be precise
with their strike, or Delshae was dead. Delshae began to mumble. The words were in a
tongue that only few could understand. She raised her hands, and a glowing ball started to
form around her. As the orb of light started to grow, the second dwarf stopped and began
to cast his own spell. His target, Delshae. He knew that he must be just as accurate as the
other two if this were to succeed.
As the orb grew bigger, Stitches was on target. His clubbing hands came down
forth from what seemed like hell. The eerie scream he bellowed made what small
creatures that where in the area run for cover. The rafters of the buildings trembled and
shingles fell off the structures. The orb of light almost reached its maximum size. Dark
looked over at the dwarf, waiting for the sign. “Now!” the dwarf yelled. Stitches hands
were just a few feet from crushing Delshaes’ head. In the split second that followed, both
the dwarf and Darkskye landed clubbing blows on the undead abomination, stunning him.
The dwarven caster let loose his spell, enveloping Delshae in a white aura. The orb of
light that surrounded Delshae flew straight up towards the sky.
Time seemed to stand still for everyone. Did they make it in time? Did this
creature from hell make it to his target?
Suddenly a thundering wave of noise came bellowing from the sky, knocking both
dwarves and Darkskye to the ground. A bright flash of light and a mystical hammer came
forth crashing down upon the undead monstrosity. A vacuum of air swirled around and
the undead creature, disintegrating it on the spot, leaving a pile of dust behind. Delshae stood
wavering for a moment before falling to the ground. Blood trickled from her mouth and
she lay twitching.
Coming to, Darkskye crawled to his feet. “Del,” he yelled. “Delshae!” He ran
over to her, trying to bring her to. As Darkskye patted Delshae on her face, he felt a hand
on his shoulder. “She will be alright if we get her a warm bed. She is a brave soul.” The
paladin spoke softly. “I’m Aeromantu. My priest friend here is Hepius Rockfall. Let’s get
her inside the tavern.”
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