(Warning: Some of the content may too violent if you are concerned about such a thing. While I say the word "bleeding" I never mention blood, I never mention entrails, but nonetheless, I'm putting this warning.)
Chapter III
The Academy
Not needing anymore prompting, Arthas and Gorion sped back down the hallway they had come from. When they rounded a corner, they came face-to-face with a gigantic monster known as a drider. It possessed the upper body of a dark elf, while the entire monster from the waist down was that of an enormous arachnid. In its hands, this drider wielded two axes the size of Gorion. Arthas sped forward, and the first ax came crashing down inches behind the charging elf, knocking chips out of the stone floor. The second ax swung in a downward arc that whistled over Arthas's head. Arthas's scimitars darted up towards the drider's head, only to be blocked by an ax. As the two traded blows, Arthas knew they were wasting too much time, and used a burst of magic to leap over the drider's head and land on its back. He drove both of his swords into the human flesh of the monster's back, causing the drider to give off a sickening squeal as it collapsed into a heap.
The companions rushed onward through the corridors, meeting no resistance until they stumbled into a massive room filled with inexperienced orcs and ogres, who were ransacking the room in an attempt to find anything of value. As Gorion produced various components from his pockets and began to chant, Arthas leaped into the center of the room bellowing "Tor ilisar'thera'nal!" and whipping his scimitar around to slit the throat of the orc before him, while his second scimitar spun behind him to catch the incoming blade of another. Lightning fast, Arthas kicked the orc squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards into the wall behind him. Pivoting and launching himself from his other foot, he leaped to the side while spinning his scimitars at nearly vertical angles, like the grooves of a screw, and sliced through a knot of orcs to his left. Landing in a crouch, he whipped the pommel of his sword into the face of the nearest orc, while he arched his other sword behind him to hamstring the orc at his back. Swiftly parrying the downward hack of an ax from an ogre, a larger beast than an orc, Arthas struck out with a riposte that slit the creature's wrists. His scimitar drew a line of blood across the chest of an orc and arched higher to intercept the incoming arrow from a crude bow. A knee to the groin and a pommel to the head sent the bleeding ogre crashing into the bowmen, its great bulk crushing the unfortunate orc against the wall. Nearly a dozen of the brutes were transfigured to statues as Gorion finished his incantation, but he gave himself no rest as he began another spell.
Arthas sidestepped the primitive javelin of an orc and let it impale the orc behind him. Ducking beneath the slash of an ogre's halberd, Arthas dove in with a quick jab to the kidney as he rolled beneath the howling creature. As he rose, Arthas deflected the downward chop of an ax into the swinging orc's head, reversed his grip on the blade, and thrust his scimitar behind him into a charging orc's chest. Two rabbit punches met the next orc in the face, a sweep kick crushed the knees of another, and Arthas slammed the heads of his adversaries together, their helmet spikes crunching through each other's skulls. A quick puncture to the lung forced the next orc to double over in pain, allowing Arthas to slash it across the back of the neck. Arthas caught the incoming sword of an orc with the crosspiece of his scimitar and diverted its course to lodge it in the wooden floor. Arthas flipped backwards over an ogre with a trident advancing behind him, causing the orc with his sword in the ground to become impaled on his comrade's weapon. Arthas landed behind the trident wielding ogre, thrusting his scimitar into the ogre's occipital ridge. (a/n the occiptal ridge is where your skull connects to your spinal column) Leaving his sword imbedded in the ogre, Arthas spun around and hurled his other blade into the throat of a chanting shaman, whose arcane muttering became little more than watery gurgles.
Now disarmed, Arthas resorted to different tactics. He caught an incoming blade on his bracers, pushed it back towards the orc, and used it to sunder the brute's skull. A sidestep allowed him to evade the jab of a spear, though the orc's momentum carried it's neck straight into Arthas's waiting foot, causing the orc to fall on it's back and have it's neck crushed by Arthas's plummeting boot. Arthas ducked beneath an orc's ax, then brought his fist up and drove it beneath an ogre's ribcage, while his other fist reached high to smash into the ogre's face, sending shards of bone into its brain. Arthas crouched lower, grabbed the shins of charging orc, whipped the orc from its feet, and slammed its head into the ground. Arthas snatched its weapon, used the blunt end of the glaive to knock high the lunging blades of four orcs, and swiped the blade across their exposed bellies. Arthas braced the glaive against the ground and impaled a charging ogre, then spun the ogre around with his foot in the same fluid motion in which Arthas grabbed an orc and jammed it down onto the glaive in front of its companion. Spinning around behind the impaled pair, Arthas kicked the butt of the glaive to spear a third victim on the crude but deadly point. A red flash emanated from Gorion, and the eight brutes around him collapsed to the ground, clutching their throats that drew no air.
Arthas's thrown knife took an ogre in the groin, causing it to belly-flop onto the table in front of it. Arthas wrenched a ranseur from the grasp of a charging orc and spun it about fast enough to impale the orc on its own momentum. He allowed the orc to continue down the shaft and slide off the blunt end as Arthas reversed the momentum again to flip the ranseur over and plunge it through the throat of the dazed ogre on the table. Arthas used the ranseur to pole vault over the table and a pair of hurled bolas, grabbed his sword imbedded in the ogre, kicked off a charging orc to launch himself towards his other sword, and recovered it in the same fluid movement that he diverted the jab of a spear with his other blade. The newly recovered scimitar arced around in a backwards spiral and slid up the incoming blade of an orc to bite deeply into its forehead. The orcs, though not the brightest of beings, still had enough sense to know they were overmatched, and began to flee. Finishing his chant, Gorion lifted his now glowing hands into the air and began to launch red bolts of fire and lightning into the now scattering ranks of orcs.
A hissing sound erupted from a nearby passage, and a creature known as a naga with the torso of a six-armed human and the body of a snake slithered into the room. It wielded a long sword in every hand, and the creature surged forward to engage Arthas in the melee. Arthas broke away from the remaining ogre by leaping into the air, catching the ogre's head in his feet, snapping its neck, launching himself from the falling corpse, and slipping his scimitar into a high parry that caught the naga's first blade in a shower of sparks.
Arthas parried the next four-dozen strikes with increasing difficulty, and his parries began to leave his torso vulnerable. The naga forced Arthas's defenses higher and higher, until the beast drove forward with all six blades. Arthas crossed both his scimitars into a downward V, forcing the naga's swords to bite deeply into the floor. Arthas brought his foot between the hilts of his scimitars, slamming the naga directly in the face. The naga bent backwards, all six swords still embedded in the wood of the floor, the locked gauntlets it wore preventing it from relinquishing its weapons. Arthas continued to push forward, connecting his forehead with the naga's nose, and slashed his scimitars across its now vulnerable throat. Gorion had finished off the rest of the orcs as Arthas had dueled the naga, and the room was now cleared of enemies.
Rushing onward, they came to the library, only to find the chests broken and empty. Two men were in the room, their weapons freshly bloodied, standing in the midst of a goblin massacre.
"We came too late," the first man began. He was shorter than average, and wore robes that gave his rank as an acolyte of Tyr, the god of Justice.
"All is lost, Fenthick. The artifacts have disappeared, and the hope of forging the weapon has gone with them. And where was Aribeth during all this?" the second man asked. He was a tall, older man wearing the clothing of the Helmites, a group of priests and warriors dedicated to Helm, the god of protection.
"Aribeth sent us; she did not want to lead the invaders to the Waterdhavian relics," said Arthas.
"What!" shouted the second man. "Aribeth sent two whelps to combat an invading force and protect artifacts that are key to Neverwinter's survival? Is she mad?"
"Desther, don't speak of Aribeth like that, she knew what she was doing. I imagine these are very talented individuals, not 'whelps' as you say," scolded Fenthick.
"Bah, it doesn't matter, the relics are gone, and I must be off to clean up the rest of the invaders." Desther said as he stormed through the door Arthas had come through.
"You must forgive Desther," Fenthick began. "The strain of Tiamat's forces weighs heavily on the Helmites. I'm Fenthick Moss, and am a priest of Tyr. You two must be the one's Aribeth spoke of. The ones with 'the most potential this academy has ever seen', as she puts it. If you are truly as great as she says, I would welcome your aid to recover the Waterdhavian relics."
"We will gladly answer the call to aid Neverwinter," Arthas said immediately.
"Good, I hope to see you at the Halls of Justice within a week, then," Fenthick said before he strode out the door.
"Damn elf," Gorion muttered as he looked accusingly at Arthas.