Link- Encounter
A moblin was coming down the hall. It was bent over, its pig-like nose snuffling around near corpses checking for movement. It must have thought it sensed life, for it jumped back and slammed its red tasseled spear into the nearest body. It let out a cruel chuckle at its own jumpiness and pulled the weapon free with a wet sucking sound. It continued down the hall toward us Quentin and I, poking along as it went.
It must have lagged behind the others, perhaps hoping to enjoy killing off any survivors. Link was glad they would have some warning. Time to prepare. It was still a good distance down the hall and had little chance to hear anything louder than a whisper.
"It's a moblin," Link whispered, motioning for Quentin to stay quiet. He hoped he didn't have the same panicked look on his face. He was supposed to be in charge. Link had only had basic training, stuff like how to assemble and procedures on preparing for sieges. None of the instructors had given any advice on how to deal with monsters. "It's big, but we can take it. It'll wait for you to get close and try to stick you with the spear. The attack will be slow but powerful, no way that think can move fast with its bulk. I doubt mail would stop it," and looking down at their tunics, "neither will these. Dodge, if you get too close, he'll might grab you and then it's all over. I saw it wearing metal spikes on its knuckles. We don't want to be hit with those. Link risked another glance down the hall to gauge distance. "Foul creature." He whispered. Quentin nodded looking scared, but ready.
"Come on, and stay low." Link said. They both took a few deep breaths and sprinted down the hall straight for the enemy.
The Moblin looked surprised to see two people on their feet, and even more so to see them charging toward it. It bellowed in triumph at live prey and lowered its spear, ready to meet them. The hall was wide, but not wide enough for both of them to circle behind it. Both were left-handed and Quentin was forced to meet it head on while Link rolled under the forewarned spikes. The beast's beady eyes fixed on Link was he dove under its spear, seeing the castle guard's attire, it figured it would kill him. It sliced the air in front of Quentin, missing, and spun to face Link. It had plates of rusted iron as armor, instead of rotten leather like its kin outside. Link had rolled behind the moblin and come up expecting to see a wide back and easy target. Planning to slash the straps holding the armor in place, he wasn't prepared to meet beady eyes full of hate. The moblin roared in his face and went for a punch, ugly hand shooting forward, aiming for his face.
Quentin-Blooded
I saw Link about to get his face ripped off and frantically aimed for a chink in the moblin's armor right at the knee, hoping to throw the beast's aim. The wicked sharp blade shot through the air, plunging straight into the creature's knee. I was braced, expecting resistance but met none as my blade shot straight through the moblin's armor through bone and gristle. It was like carving butter. My balance was lost on the dark congealing blood on the marble, and smacked my face off the nearest
armored plate.
Link was quick to see my lunge and the resulting blood spraying from the severed limb. I imagined the moblin's eyes going wide in shock, unsure how an ant could have harmed it. It fell forward, off balance and Link jumped back out of the way. He saw an easy kill and prepared to slash down at the creature's neck. Instead I heard him yelp as the Moblin snatched at his ankle to pull him down with it. The beast meant to take at least one of us with it at the very least. Its' lethal attention was solely focused on Link and was paying no attention to me. Its fury must have driven it to single minded intensity with one focus, to kill Link anyway it could. It had succeeded in pulling Link down and was dragging him closer, mouth open in a snarl. It meant to rip off a chunk of my friend's leg with its teeth. I hurriedly stood, braced my footing and brought my gleaming silver blade down on the neck of the creature and sliced the head clean off. The sword made a wet chunk as it cleaved through spine and lodged into the stone floor, where it stuck. I stood there panting, blood running down my face from a small cut where my head had bounced off its armor plates. I was shaking from relief that I had saved Link in time from a horrible wound.
"I bounced my face off of its back." I said, shaking my head. "I expected more resistance from the armor."
"That is one sharp sword!" Link said, making a sound of approval and staring at the blade lodged in the stone floor in a pool of blood and viscera. "It surely would have had my leg off with those teeth." He kicked the corpse, "it happened so fast, I had no time to do anything before…" he cut off, frowning at my sword.
Looking at the sword, covered in blood, I began to shake. The thought of having to face death like that again and again…Link saw me quivering and put a hand on my shoulder. "Your head okay?" he asked, avoiding the more obvious question of whether I was breaking down. He extended a bandage he had pulled from a pouch at his waist. I nodded accepting the proffered bandage and pushed it against my bleeding head and bent down to retrieve my sword. I gasped, stunned at the sight of an obsidian blade. Gleaming black, instead of its' normal silver. Link spun from his inspection of a nearby body. I was surprised to see the blade had turned as black as onyx. The dead moblin had filled the hall with blood, but a small area where the blade lay was completely dry. Our eyes met with the same bewildered look before returning to the strange artifact. Looking closer, we saw a rivulet of blood started moving toward the edge of the blade. It flowed over the dry floor and was drawn into the black metal. I felt the sword pulse like a beat of a heart. Bending down, I reached toward the blade and it stopped its drinking and leapt into my hand. I jumped, trying to drop it but it stuck to my hand. We watched, the onyx blade glistening wetly, as it began elongating, gaining a few inches in length. The sword had begun that morning as a short sword, now it was well on its way to being a long sword. Its' surface suddenly gleamed with an inner light and then my weapon slipped back to its brilliant silver. The sheath at my waist shuddered, urging me to return the blade. I did, noting the longer sheath. I had toyed with the notion that the blade had taught me how to use it but was suddenly overcome with dread at the thought of the price of that knowledge.
Link cleared his throat, loud in the unnatural silence and said, "We'll talk about that later." It took much effort to tear his eyes from the sword, "We need to find the queen and get some answers." He couldn't keep the shudder out of his voice.
We ran on through the nightmarish corridor, heading toward the throne room. As I strugged to keep up with my extremely fit friend, it suddenly occurred to me to wonder why the sword hadn't helped at all in the moblin skirmish. It hadn't responded in any way during the fight. Something horrible dawned on me. Maybe it didn't work on evil creatures? The thought that the unique sword would only work on innocent humans was too much to bear. I stumbled to a stop, almost running into Link. We had reached the throne room.