Rizzar shivered softly while he took his watch. The cold parapets of his fortress home offered little comfort for him. The moon-less sky weighed heavily on his mind. His scales itched under his black armor. But none of this mattered. What mattered was the event that was coming up.
Sanida's birthday was around the corner: three days hence, and Rizzar had no gift for her. Luxuries of any kind were rare now. The world, scarred as it was, offered almost nothing that he could fashion, and he had no gifts for art that he could make something for her. All of the magic-infused materials they had had been used to enhance weapons and armor. So there was nothing left for as much as a trinket. Perhaps things would be easier if Sanida were a creature of simple tastes, but no, the Halfling woman preferred the finer things in life.
Sighing deeply, Rizzar leaned against the stone wall and rubbed his snout idly. When he breathed out, smoke flowed from his nostrils as he tried to stifle the frustrated burst of flame that threatened to light up the dark sky. No matter what he did, to his mind, Sanida would probably never notice his intentions. The last time he got her a gift, the magically returning dagger that she used constantly; she simply smiled, thanked him, and never spoke of it again.
And then there were the obvious physical difficulties. Sanida was a Halfling, and was one of the most delicate and small people he had met, at least given appearances. Rizzar was of Dragonborn stock, six feet tall, hulking muscle hardened by years of conditioning at the Temple of Kord. What could come of his feelings for his companion?
An arrow bouncing off his armor drove the thoughts from his mind. His keen eyes still could see nothing in the dim light, but never-the-less he sounded the alarm: putting his scaled lips to the horn and making it sound its supernaturally loud call. The horn had come from Revan, the warlord demon-spawn who protected this place from his ancestors. And his ancestors were here, ready for their next assault.
He could already hear the soldiers running for the walls from the relative comfort of their barracks. Sanida would be with them, and would no doubt complain later that she had been awoken too early. Given the early-morning hour (not yet three), she was more than right.
But there was little time for such thinking as another arrow whizzed past his ear and buried itself somewhere in the courtyard. Once more Rizzar scanned the area in front of the defensive wall for where the shots were coming from, and once again he saw nothing.
Clank, the metal warrior they had rescued from a mad merchant the previous year came running. "Where are they?" He asked, his voice hollow and matter-of-fact, as always. His shield bore the same symbol that Rizzar had embossed into his own metal hand. The symbol of Kord, the god had smiled on him the day he lost his hand, and gifted him with this divine boon.
Rizzar slammed the metal hand down on the parapet in frustration, and chips of stone from the edge went flying, tinkling to the ground softly as the pair of warriors stared into the night. "I don't know." He said, and looked for yet a third time. This time when the arrow was fired, it hit home, directly where Clank's heart would be were he human. As it was, the blue fluid that kept his pieces lubricated and working started to leak through the hole that the arrow had made. Clank, unable to feel pain, merely traced his eyes back along the path of the arrow.
"There." He said, and pointed. Rizzar grabbed his own bow and fired off one shot. He heard chittering and squeals coming from a stand of trees, and what sounded like a howl of pain. He had gotten in a lucky shot.
"Clank, fix the hole in your chest." He said, and pressed the bow into his friend's hands before hefting the greataxe that was his favored weapon. "I'm going down."
He threw a rope ladder over the side, sliding down the sides quickly with only his steel hand to slow him, and when he hit the bottom, he was off at a run, the magical runes on his armor glowing blue as they started to awaken with his senses. This was what he lived for: Close combat against those who would attack his home.
He heard the ladder being drawn up behind him, and a voice that was far louder than he expected calling after him: "Rizzar! Wait!"
Sanida was calling him. But why? He could only imagine it was that she wanted to scold him for rushing off on his own (again) into trouble. But there was no time to stop. He felt an arrow bury itself into the joint of his armor, but the magical protection imbued in it by an ancient sorcerer stopped the bolt just short of hitting his skin.
He smiled a little, his razor-sharp teeth showing as a cruel grin to those he was running towards. He could almost make them out now: Red-skinned minor demons, probably with nothing better to do than to try and overrun the fortress. There appeared to be only a few of them. This should not take long. Once the Dwarf legion within the fortress began their approach, this fight would be over.
But his heart rang with frustration and blood-lust and he struck out with his weapon. While he swung, Rizzar prayed for Kord to aid him in his endeavors. The axe felt lighter in his hands, and shone with the same sapphire blue aura that his armor was giving off. Yes, aid was given to those who asked for it. And so Rizzar's blade struck true, the demon nearly bisected cleanly across the middle. Feeling this enemy fall under his hands made Rizzar smile more, and he wound up for another swing. That's when he felt it: An arrow had breached his magical defenses. The pain was familiar, if uncomfortable, as it blossomed in his left side. He swung out in that reaction, and hit nothing but air. Another arrow lodged itself in his leg, just above his knee.
Roaring in pain, Rizzar felt the fire well up within him. Smoke poured from his nose and mouth, and with but one deep breath, he let forth the torrent that had been building since his watch on the wall. The demons chittered eagerly, almost enjoying being awash in his attack. Of course, demons were accustomed to being in fire, why wouldn't they enjoy it? Breathing deeply, Rizzar felt himself being shoved from behind. One of the creatures was smarter than the rest, it seemed, and had circled. Knocked off balance, he fell to one knee.
His leg screamed at him to not abuse it so, and his side screamed louder. Ignoring his pain, Rizzar kicked himself up into a standing position. His armor glowed brighter, his mouth poured smoke, and mind took only a second to think that he must have looked much like a demon himself.
He took a wild swing with his axe, muttering an incantation his master at the temple had taught him, and the air around him crackled with electricity. Three demons fell to the charge that passed through them, and the one that he actually hit lost the entire left side of his body.
The stink of gore and blood filled his nose and the stand of trees he stood in started to crackle as his fiery breath began to take hold on the dried-out underbrush. The heat started to rise and the demons cackled with laughter once more. Instead of an arrow, this time Rizzar felt the distinct feeling of steel slicing into his shoulder from underneath.
Overcome with pain, Rizzar dropped his axe from his injured hand. Panting with exertion, he looked up just in time to see three more of the vile beasts starting to swing at him with their wickedly sharp weapons, and dodged two blows in succession before being hit once more with an arrow from one who had stayed farther back.
This time the arrow had struck in a vital spot: the right side of his chest. The breath rushed out of his lungs as he fell to his knees, pain overcoming his senses finally.
The demons laughed mercilessly as Rizzar landed snout-first in the dirt of the clearing as the trees started to burn around them.
The legion… if only he had waited and gone with them. He thought woefully, and felt but one tear leak from his eyes. If he had waited… Sanida was not going to be able to scold him this time… it was too late for that.
He sighed, and heard the faint, but gruff, voices of the Dwarven legion. They were coming… but too late, he thought.
But he had helped stall the assault. Maybe he had saved someone's life by drawing their fire. Maybe Sanida's life.
He smiled weakly, and felt the darkness close in. Not even Kord could save him now.
A/N: Yes, I know, this isn't my typical fandom. But I've been playing a lot of D&D lately, and this little scene just screamed to be written down in my head. Rizzar is my character, Sanida is run by a friend of mine, and Rizzar is hopelessly in love with her, as evidenced by this piece. This never happened in game, but I could easily it happening. As always: Read, Review, and enjoy.