Author's note: Hi all! Just a couple of things, then I'll start the story back up.
Okay, the question was asked about Nik's new weapon. Without spoiling too much, here's a rundown of how I wrote this out: I was trying to be realistic.
Now that you've all picked yourself up off the ground from that bit of hysterics, hear me out :P
Granted, being realistic is hard to do when you have people that can jump through ceilings, toss fireballs like footballs, can summon wolves and storms, etc.
But I wanted at least something to be based in reality. So I figured I'd pick the weaponry.
Okay, for anyone who doesn't fence or have any grasp on medieval combat, getting hit with a sword hurts a lot. Which is really the point when you get down to it, 'cos you're trying to kill whoever it is who you hit with the sword, and there's usually some pain that goes along with it.
Okay, now in real life a simple steel sword will accomplish that relatively well. It also causes (among other things) open wounds that bleed uncontrollably, and if used correctly, do a lot more damage than you might think. If you think otherwise, take a look at a smallsword at some point: it's a glorified metal toothpick, but it can quite easily go right through someone without so much as a by-your-leave.
Okay, now, I am a big fan of the runeword Fury. It does all sorts of nifty things in the game that I personally like, including ignoring armor, preventing monster heal, and so on.
However, (and again, trying to stick to reality) a normal sword, used correctly, will accomplish the exact same thing.
So, if a normal regular sword can do all that and a bag of chips, what could possibly make Fury so nasty in comparison?
I figure that while in the game it does a *lot* of nasty stuff even though it can't kill in one hit, in the Saga (taking advantage of some reality) it tears monsters apart. It would thus do an insanely increased amount of damage--based from a normal sword that already does a lot--to be able to ignore a target's defense (which I equate to tearing through the armor), as well as a bunch of other stuff that just makes it downright ugly to contemplate, and so the Fury of Niklaus Saga came into being.
Okay, and with that I can finally finish up writing the Niklaus Saga. I was having horrible writer's block, but since I got that explanation out of the way (with the possible aid of a rhetorical Fury weapon), I'm now inspired again.
Oh, and on the bit about inspiration: thanks to everyone who has reviewed. It's really your support that inspires me to keep this thing going. Now, with the requisite mush out of the way, let's go kill something.
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The band made their way through the fabled Lost City of Aranoch. Not that it was much of a mystery; it was there, it existed not only de facto but on any decent map of the area. It had been the site of extensive research and exploration, thus the appellate "fable" was somewhat misleading.
"Mysterious" might have been a better word. Or perhaps "enigmatic" or maybe even "damn strange," even though that was actually two words. What made the Lost City so puzzling was that somehow the entire city had been slain by something dark and nasty literally overnight. No one had any logical explanation, although several facts offered a compelling hypothesis.
Namely, the city had grown out of an archeological site that bore extensive evidence of preexisting cultures and even ancient dominant species. Quite unexpectedly, archeologists discovered what appeared to be an ancient temple maintained by one of those preexisting dominant species.
Artifacts from the initial excavations indicated that the ancient race were cunning wizards, although their arts tended strongly towards hellish magics. They also tended towards a very cold-natured disposition, given over to calculated acts of cruelty that many modern warm-blooded torturers would have blushed at.
However, they seemed keen on effective conservation, often resurrecting the bodies of their victims (the ones they didn't eat) to serve them for all eternity.
The former inhabitants of the Lost City would have found all this very interesting, and would no doubt have been twice as interested to learn that they were unknowingly unearthing said race from millenia of magic-induced hibernation.
Not that anyone in the band currently exploring the ruins of the Lost City really knew all this, except Simon. He had just been sharing this information with Ulfgar as they arrived at the ruins.
Simon knew that only Ulfgar had an interest in the information; Math was more concerned about immediate threats, and Duane's eyes had long glassed over from overhearing the pale priest.
Simon shook his head and remembered the row Duane of Skelgard had caused when they were trying to procure camels for the journey. Despite the weight and insulation his armor provided (obviously lethal in a desert), Duane had insisted on wearing full armor into the desert, despite the risk to self and mount.
It had taken a good deal of cajolement, wheedling, and downright coercion to get Duane of Skelgard to forsake his gleaming plate in lieu of more regional armor that allowed for greater ventilation and considerably less weight.
Yet Duane had insisted of keeping his vambraces for some unknown reason. Math had long decided that it was the easiest way to reflect the sunlight directly into someone else's eyes during Duane's more manic gesticulations of praise (for the Light, of course) or derision (for his companions, of course).
It had been difficult for Ulfgar to procure a ride as well, but for different reasons. Namely, the desert camels were smaller than their northern equine counterparts to allow for more effective heat dispersion. As such they were lighter-weight and were not as well-muscled.
Ulfgar was far from light-weight and lightly muscled, and the resulting dichotomy had forced Ulfgar to hike across the entire desert on foot.
Ulfgar seemed to take to the desert extremes as easily as he took to the frigid temperatures of his homeland however, which made Simon wonder if Ulfgar was truly human.
However, he had a soul, which was unique to life on Sanctuary, so he definitely wasn't demon or angel.
Simon was relieved on that score at least. Casting his gaze back to Duane of Skelgard, Simon silently renewed his order's vow to expunge both Heaven and Hell from Sanctuary, and leave his homeworld to the cycles of life and death that dwelled within.
It would be much nicer to do without Duane of Skelgard's or any Paladin's company.
The thought of their other Paladin, Niklaus, sobered Simon. He hadn't been part of their party for long, yet the priest felt that Niklaus was an inherently good man, despite his training in the Light. He seemed to dismiss most of the prohibitions that Paladin monks swore to uphold as if they no longer applied to him. In all actuality, he seemed to be a fallen Paladin, one bereft of his holy Auras due to sin--according to the teachings of Akarat, of course. Simon had seen him eye the various women at Atma's tavern, those same women Duane had conspicuously avoided looking at.
They were all a sober bunch from his disappearance, especially Ulfgar and Sarah. The two warriors were subdued (incredibly, Sarah was even more verbally subdued than usual) upon Silence's recovery, Niklaus' enchanted sword. Ulfgar had taken the sword reverently and had carried it ever since, claiming it as the way of his tribe.
Surprisingly, Math had nodded in sympathy. Despite their initial hostility, the two had become comrades, having discovered they shared a common ancestor. Simon was only vaguely familiar with northern beliefs, but knew that ancestor worship was an integral part of northern beliefs, which helped explain why Ulfgar and Math had set aside their hostilities.
As a part of that, carrying the weapons of the deceased also carried their strength and cunning into battle.
Duane had insisted that to do so was to believe in superstitions and fairy tales, but Simon had quickly quelled the two warrior's rage, explaining that Duane was a simpleton that couldn't tell wisdom from his own backside. The two warriors had cooled at that.
Simon thanked his dealings with the dead; usually it was through his direct intervention that the multitude of wisps and wraiths that were bound to him did not fall into their own civil war.
Duane didn't understand any of their concerns. All he did was prattle on about the glory of Light and how could Niklaus lend his strength since he was dead and not here to lend his Auras (which might have been demonic in origin anyway) and was obviously not in Sanctuary so why bother?
Simon wondered if it might not be because Duane was eyeing Silence for himself, but after *both* Ulfgar and Math growled at him did he back off.
Simon noticed that afterwards Duane did "accidentally" shine his vambraces into Ulfgar's and Math's eyes a lot, giving credence to Math's earlier declaration.
Sarah rode ahead, her cloak pulled ever further down over her eyes. She had accepted Silence as token that its bearer was long dead. She had maintained her typical professionalism, but the others had noticed a distinct change in her demeanor. Wheras before she had been cool, now she had become absolutely frigid, often wreaking cruel and indiscriminate destruction on any desert-inhabiting demon they had encountered.
Math had attempted to socialize with her, but shortly found himself at the business end of a nocked arrow. Wisely he decided not to press the point any further; Sarah had pressed her point quite far enough up his nostril, thank you very much.
The band came up to the not-so-fabled-but-more-aptly-named-Mysteriously-Lost-City and dismounted to explore.
The first thing they noticed was the plethora of undead, damn dirty stinking shuffling slow-thinking moaning undead.
Although whiel they did stink and were quite damned, they weren't shuffling or moaning.
Investigations revealed that they had been quite robbed of their shuffling or moaning ability. As Simon knelt down (being accustomed to things in various states of decay) to look closer, he found that most of the musculature had been severed, leaving the creature incapable of motion. After that, the entire body had been vigorously stomped, leaving it quite incapable of moaning or even thinking, however slow.
"Well, it's quite obvious what happened here," Duane reasoned at ear-splitting volumes, "the creatures here realized their path of damnation, and instead of following that road to its fell conclusion, they ended their unlife early."
Sarah rolled her eyes under her hood and compared the quantity of her quiver to the number of chinks she could see in the shiny-man's armor. Ruefully, she looked back to the day Kashya had assigned her to Simon's group. Even then she realized that Duane had nothing on the wisdom and experience of a pot of uncooked stew. And most vegetables, for that matter.
Meanwhile, a slow grin played across Ulfgar's mouth as he recognized the handiwork. "C'mon!" he exclaimed, and the others were compelled to follow.
Stashing his axe, Ulfgar dropped to all fours, slinking across the city alleys like a panther, casting his gaze this way and that. Behind him followed Math, who mimicked his actions but started sniffing the air.
For just a moment, Simon and Duane looked askance at each other, completely baffled at their comrades' antics. However, it didn't seem to stop them and so they dashed towards the rapidly retreating pair.
Sarah lingered behind, head pulled into hood. Something hadn't quite fit somewhere, and her Eye couldn't discern what exactly was off.
She pulled further into her hood, and opened herself completely to her Eye. Time slowed to a crawl as her perception increased to insane speeds. She could literally watch gusts of winds as if they were wraiths, and no speck of sand escaped her notice.
This was the gift of the Sightless Eye, to see completely by thought. The Eye perceived all at an accelerated pace, allowing her to glimpse at the all-encompassing reality that was existence pace by so slow a child could catch everything.
Sarah waited as the world crawled sluggishly by.
The hood quivered slightly as her Eye gazed this way and that throughout the Alley.
She must have had a dry Eye that day, 'cos she couldn't see shit!
The world returned to normal (just slightly slow) as Sarah cursed to herself. There was something here dammit! She knew it! Where the hell was it?
Then she jumped nearly out of her skin as a voice behind her said "Boo!"
She spun and drew her dagger in one fluid move and thrust it forward, impaling her stalker.
Or rather would have if her stalker had not expected the attack. He did, however, and pivoted fluidly himself, knocking the blade aside then stepping in to flip her over his hip.
However, she herself was familiar with this move and slipped out of his throw, positioning herself behind him and dropping an elbow into his kidney.
Except he was familiar with that move himself, spun away from the attack, lashing out with a foot to knock her off balance.
With cool rage (of course) Sarah stepped over her attacker's foot and would have drawn her rapier had her attacker not expected *that* and inconveniently placed his hip in the way.
Although trained in weapons, Sarah was similarly disciplined in unarmed combat, and thus began a rapid flurry of elbow strikes and shoves in an attempt to dislodge her attacker.
Every strike was countered, every move blocked. Sarah was getting hot under the collar, an exceptional circumstance.
However, she was a follower of the Sightless Eye, and could call upon its aid even under the most extreme duress.
Time slowed again, and although she could not move as fast as she could perceive, she could almost leisurely pick out her attacks and blocks.
They battled on, silently (for a Sister never utters a sound during combat, even if in pain), the muffled sounds of blocked punches and kicks insufficient to reach the ears of her comrades.
So she battled on, watching the combat proceed at a snail's pace. She knew she could wear her attacker down, and strike the deathblow with as much accuracy of her arrows.
Then she noticed a fiery orange tinge around her attacker, which quickly (even in her accelerated perceptive state) bloomed into a maelstrom of energy. Blindingly fast even perceiving through her Eye, the attacker struck her square in the chest, knocking her into a far wall.
Aghast, she watched in unguarded concern (not fear, mind) while the monster charged straight for her, arms outstretched as if to rend her apart.
She recoiled involuntarily as the creatures hands (not claws, interesting) slammed into the wall at either side, crumbling the already decrepit construction, yet stopping his advance.
Sarah regarded her attacker in wonder. It was humanoid, hidden under a ragged robe oft-mended. Its face was hidden under a deep hood, revealing only a very human-looking mouth.
Said mouth was currently grinning like a dog that had just gotten away with something it knows it shouldn't have.
One hand reached back to reveal a scarred visage framed with shoulder-length unkempt red hair, green eyes, and a ragged beard wrapped around a goofy grin.
"Niklaus!" Sarah said in complete and utter shock.
"I don't think I've ever seen you this emotional," Niklaus said, still grinning broadly.
"When did your Eye open?"
"It didn't, but what you taught me did help. So how goes it?"
Sarah didn't respond except to attack him once again. Somehow, though, kissing someone was an odd form of attack.
However, it was quite effective in immoblizing Niklaus. Like everything in Sarah's life, it was direct, efficient, and completely ruthless as it drove Niklaus' hormones into the stratosphere.
she broke away from the kiss and Niklaus consciously uncurled his toes. "Don't you *ever* fight angry again," she said coldly, "you might end up dead from it." And with that she spun to march off.
Completely baffled from the double-tongue lashing, Niklaus took a second to recover and catch up with Sarah.
"The others are ahead, attempting to locate a temple built by some ancient race," she informed him.
"I've already been to the temple, and if they're going that way, they're going the wrong direction," Niklaus said.
"When were you there?"
"About a week ago, when they dragged me in there to sacrifice me."
"And what happened?"
"They sacrificed me."
"Oh. Somewhat inefficient. What did they use?"
"A big damn knife."
"Oh hells, it's not like you were awake for that part!" Sasha interjected accusingly.
"You're still walking though," Sarah continued.
"Well, I do have this healing Aura that...heals people."
"So where are the people that sacrificed you now?"
"In the temple, full of big damn knives. Some sort of snake things, actually."
"Oh. Well, we'd better catch up with the others and let them know you're alive."
~~~
The six of them camped in Niklaus' temporary home, a fairly strong-walled structure that opened into a narrow alley. Niklaus had chosen the building because it was one of the few left that still had a roof, and the narrow alley prevented too many monsters from swarming should he have to make a stand.
They were surrounded by various bladders full to bursting with water that Niklaus had harvested during his time there. The huge insects of the Aranoch carried several such bladders full of purified water to help survive the harsh desert heat. Niklaus had found a way to fell these insects and harvest them for his own survival.
Niklaus sat away from the campfire, desiring solitude despite his rib-crushing reunion with Ulfgar. He regarded the two swords before him.
In his right hand was Silence, his father's sword, heavily enchanted and powerful, with its bronze ricasso, long hilt and sweeping crossguard.
In his left was the weapon Fury as Simon had explained to him, with its brutal ridges and long grip. It too had a ricasso but no guard, nothing to detract from its brutal purpose. He noticed intricate runes on the weapon as on Silence, but with a more bloody purpose in mind. Those runes gave the weapon its ability to deliver such horrific wounds.
Simon said that the runes etched onto the weapon were of a far Eastern configuration, where fencing was built around the idea of a single fatal attack, and thus the blade was enchanted to do the most damage possible in a single hit.
Ulfgar had offered to teach him how to use two weapons at once, but he declined; Silence was too long to wield with a second weapon, and he would only trip himself up.
So Niklaus had rigged a way of carrying his two swords that Ulfgar had suggested, based on a far-eastern warrior he had met once. Both swords were tucked securely under two sashes, then Niklaus had wrapped a wide sash around over the belt, creating a very secure (and comfortable) set-up.
Niklaus had fallen into another introspective mood (he was having them on a fairly regular basis these days). Especially concerning Sarah.
Sarah had fallen back into her cool demeanor ever since that kiss, and Niklaus was starting to doubt it had happened.
"Oh, it happened," Sasha interjected, "even I got turned on by it."
"...Says the demon who gets turned on by violence, bloodshed, and overall destruction," Niklaus finished wryly, "'sides, it's not hard to get you excited."
"Yeah, your point?"
Niklaus chuckled (which coincidentally strengthened Simon's suspicions that the shiny-man might just be insane). "Any woman's insight on what happened back there?"
"Hells if I'd now," Sasha replied, "I'm not a woman, and I never was one. My sisters and I were actually created once the Prime Evils figured out how horny you human men were and how easily you were led around by your pants, it was just a natural course of action."
"Somehow you saying the word 'natural' is a contradiction."
"Don't sass me boy," Sasha said in her best authoritative voice, "I'm old enough to be your ancestor."
"Oh, like the younger men, eh?"
"Hey!"
"I mean, I've heard of robbing the cradle before, but...."
"Are you saying I look old?"
"Well, I was rather more preoccupied with those magical attacks of yours, and--"
"Oh, distracted by shiny lights, huh? Is that why you Paladin are called Shiny men?"
"I'm sorry? I got to looking at that fire over there...."
The shared the joke for a while before turning to more pressing matters.
Well, okay, Sarah wasn't exactly a pressing concern per se, but she did occupy a large portion of Niklaus' awareness.
"Well, she *does* have nice legs," Sasha supplied helpfully.
Niklaus decided that Sarah wasn't so pressing. Glad to be back in Ulfgar's company (he had missed the jovial giant) he found a softer bit of sand and dropped off into a deep sleep.
No one had the heart to wake him for his watch.
Okay, the question was asked about Nik's new weapon. Without spoiling too much, here's a rundown of how I wrote this out: I was trying to be realistic.
Now that you've all picked yourself up off the ground from that bit of hysterics, hear me out :P
Granted, being realistic is hard to do when you have people that can jump through ceilings, toss fireballs like footballs, can summon wolves and storms, etc.
But I wanted at least something to be based in reality. So I figured I'd pick the weaponry.
Okay, for anyone who doesn't fence or have any grasp on medieval combat, getting hit with a sword hurts a lot. Which is really the point when you get down to it, 'cos you're trying to kill whoever it is who you hit with the sword, and there's usually some pain that goes along with it.
Okay, now in real life a simple steel sword will accomplish that relatively well. It also causes (among other things) open wounds that bleed uncontrollably, and if used correctly, do a lot more damage than you might think. If you think otherwise, take a look at a smallsword at some point: it's a glorified metal toothpick, but it can quite easily go right through someone without so much as a by-your-leave.
Okay, now, I am a big fan of the runeword Fury. It does all sorts of nifty things in the game that I personally like, including ignoring armor, preventing monster heal, and so on.
However, (and again, trying to stick to reality) a normal sword, used correctly, will accomplish the exact same thing.
So, if a normal regular sword can do all that and a bag of chips, what could possibly make Fury so nasty in comparison?
I figure that while in the game it does a *lot* of nasty stuff even though it can't kill in one hit, in the Saga (taking advantage of some reality) it tears monsters apart. It would thus do an insanely increased amount of damage--based from a normal sword that already does a lot--to be able to ignore a target's defense (which I equate to tearing through the armor), as well as a bunch of other stuff that just makes it downright ugly to contemplate, and so the Fury of Niklaus Saga came into being.
Okay, and with that I can finally finish up writing the Niklaus Saga. I was having horrible writer's block, but since I got that explanation out of the way (with the possible aid of a rhetorical Fury weapon), I'm now inspired again.
Oh, and on the bit about inspiration: thanks to everyone who has reviewed. It's really your support that inspires me to keep this thing going. Now, with the requisite mush out of the way, let's go kill something.
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The band made their way through the fabled Lost City of Aranoch. Not that it was much of a mystery; it was there, it existed not only de facto but on any decent map of the area. It had been the site of extensive research and exploration, thus the appellate "fable" was somewhat misleading.
"Mysterious" might have been a better word. Or perhaps "enigmatic" or maybe even "damn strange," even though that was actually two words. What made the Lost City so puzzling was that somehow the entire city had been slain by something dark and nasty literally overnight. No one had any logical explanation, although several facts offered a compelling hypothesis.
Namely, the city had grown out of an archeological site that bore extensive evidence of preexisting cultures and even ancient dominant species. Quite unexpectedly, archeologists discovered what appeared to be an ancient temple maintained by one of those preexisting dominant species.
Artifacts from the initial excavations indicated that the ancient race were cunning wizards, although their arts tended strongly towards hellish magics. They also tended towards a very cold-natured disposition, given over to calculated acts of cruelty that many modern warm-blooded torturers would have blushed at.
However, they seemed keen on effective conservation, often resurrecting the bodies of their victims (the ones they didn't eat) to serve them for all eternity.
The former inhabitants of the Lost City would have found all this very interesting, and would no doubt have been twice as interested to learn that they were unknowingly unearthing said race from millenia of magic-induced hibernation.
Not that anyone in the band currently exploring the ruins of the Lost City really knew all this, except Simon. He had just been sharing this information with Ulfgar as they arrived at the ruins.
Simon knew that only Ulfgar had an interest in the information; Math was more concerned about immediate threats, and Duane's eyes had long glassed over from overhearing the pale priest.
Simon shook his head and remembered the row Duane of Skelgard had caused when they were trying to procure camels for the journey. Despite the weight and insulation his armor provided (obviously lethal in a desert), Duane had insisted on wearing full armor into the desert, despite the risk to self and mount.
It had taken a good deal of cajolement, wheedling, and downright coercion to get Duane of Skelgard to forsake his gleaming plate in lieu of more regional armor that allowed for greater ventilation and considerably less weight.
Yet Duane had insisted of keeping his vambraces for some unknown reason. Math had long decided that it was the easiest way to reflect the sunlight directly into someone else's eyes during Duane's more manic gesticulations of praise (for the Light, of course) or derision (for his companions, of course).
It had been difficult for Ulfgar to procure a ride as well, but for different reasons. Namely, the desert camels were smaller than their northern equine counterparts to allow for more effective heat dispersion. As such they were lighter-weight and were not as well-muscled.
Ulfgar was far from light-weight and lightly muscled, and the resulting dichotomy had forced Ulfgar to hike across the entire desert on foot.
Ulfgar seemed to take to the desert extremes as easily as he took to the frigid temperatures of his homeland however, which made Simon wonder if Ulfgar was truly human.
However, he had a soul, which was unique to life on Sanctuary, so he definitely wasn't demon or angel.
Simon was relieved on that score at least. Casting his gaze back to Duane of Skelgard, Simon silently renewed his order's vow to expunge both Heaven and Hell from Sanctuary, and leave his homeworld to the cycles of life and death that dwelled within.
It would be much nicer to do without Duane of Skelgard's or any Paladin's company.
The thought of their other Paladin, Niklaus, sobered Simon. He hadn't been part of their party for long, yet the priest felt that Niklaus was an inherently good man, despite his training in the Light. He seemed to dismiss most of the prohibitions that Paladin monks swore to uphold as if they no longer applied to him. In all actuality, he seemed to be a fallen Paladin, one bereft of his holy Auras due to sin--according to the teachings of Akarat, of course. Simon had seen him eye the various women at Atma's tavern, those same women Duane had conspicuously avoided looking at.
They were all a sober bunch from his disappearance, especially Ulfgar and Sarah. The two warriors were subdued (incredibly, Sarah was even more verbally subdued than usual) upon Silence's recovery, Niklaus' enchanted sword. Ulfgar had taken the sword reverently and had carried it ever since, claiming it as the way of his tribe.
Surprisingly, Math had nodded in sympathy. Despite their initial hostility, the two had become comrades, having discovered they shared a common ancestor. Simon was only vaguely familiar with northern beliefs, but knew that ancestor worship was an integral part of northern beliefs, which helped explain why Ulfgar and Math had set aside their hostilities.
As a part of that, carrying the weapons of the deceased also carried their strength and cunning into battle.
Duane had insisted that to do so was to believe in superstitions and fairy tales, but Simon had quickly quelled the two warrior's rage, explaining that Duane was a simpleton that couldn't tell wisdom from his own backside. The two warriors had cooled at that.
Simon thanked his dealings with the dead; usually it was through his direct intervention that the multitude of wisps and wraiths that were bound to him did not fall into their own civil war.
Duane didn't understand any of their concerns. All he did was prattle on about the glory of Light and how could Niklaus lend his strength since he was dead and not here to lend his Auras (which might have been demonic in origin anyway) and was obviously not in Sanctuary so why bother?
Simon wondered if it might not be because Duane was eyeing Silence for himself, but after *both* Ulfgar and Math growled at him did he back off.
Simon noticed that afterwards Duane did "accidentally" shine his vambraces into Ulfgar's and Math's eyes a lot, giving credence to Math's earlier declaration.
Sarah rode ahead, her cloak pulled ever further down over her eyes. She had accepted Silence as token that its bearer was long dead. She had maintained her typical professionalism, but the others had noticed a distinct change in her demeanor. Wheras before she had been cool, now she had become absolutely frigid, often wreaking cruel and indiscriminate destruction on any desert-inhabiting demon they had encountered.
Math had attempted to socialize with her, but shortly found himself at the business end of a nocked arrow. Wisely he decided not to press the point any further; Sarah had pressed her point quite far enough up his nostril, thank you very much.
The band came up to the not-so-fabled-but-more-aptly-named-Mysteriously-Lost-City and dismounted to explore.
The first thing they noticed was the plethora of undead, damn dirty stinking shuffling slow-thinking moaning undead.
Although whiel they did stink and were quite damned, they weren't shuffling or moaning.
Investigations revealed that they had been quite robbed of their shuffling or moaning ability. As Simon knelt down (being accustomed to things in various states of decay) to look closer, he found that most of the musculature had been severed, leaving the creature incapable of motion. After that, the entire body had been vigorously stomped, leaving it quite incapable of moaning or even thinking, however slow.
"Well, it's quite obvious what happened here," Duane reasoned at ear-splitting volumes, "the creatures here realized their path of damnation, and instead of following that road to its fell conclusion, they ended their unlife early."
Sarah rolled her eyes under her hood and compared the quantity of her quiver to the number of chinks she could see in the shiny-man's armor. Ruefully, she looked back to the day Kashya had assigned her to Simon's group. Even then she realized that Duane had nothing on the wisdom and experience of a pot of uncooked stew. And most vegetables, for that matter.
Meanwhile, a slow grin played across Ulfgar's mouth as he recognized the handiwork. "C'mon!" he exclaimed, and the others were compelled to follow.
Stashing his axe, Ulfgar dropped to all fours, slinking across the city alleys like a panther, casting his gaze this way and that. Behind him followed Math, who mimicked his actions but started sniffing the air.
For just a moment, Simon and Duane looked askance at each other, completely baffled at their comrades' antics. However, it didn't seem to stop them and so they dashed towards the rapidly retreating pair.
Sarah lingered behind, head pulled into hood. Something hadn't quite fit somewhere, and her Eye couldn't discern what exactly was off.
She pulled further into her hood, and opened herself completely to her Eye. Time slowed to a crawl as her perception increased to insane speeds. She could literally watch gusts of winds as if they were wraiths, and no speck of sand escaped her notice.
This was the gift of the Sightless Eye, to see completely by thought. The Eye perceived all at an accelerated pace, allowing her to glimpse at the all-encompassing reality that was existence pace by so slow a child could catch everything.
Sarah waited as the world crawled sluggishly by.
The hood quivered slightly as her Eye gazed this way and that throughout the Alley.
She must have had a dry Eye that day, 'cos she couldn't see shit!
The world returned to normal (just slightly slow) as Sarah cursed to herself. There was something here dammit! She knew it! Where the hell was it?
Then she jumped nearly out of her skin as a voice behind her said "Boo!"
She spun and drew her dagger in one fluid move and thrust it forward, impaling her stalker.
Or rather would have if her stalker had not expected the attack. He did, however, and pivoted fluidly himself, knocking the blade aside then stepping in to flip her over his hip.
However, she herself was familiar with this move and slipped out of his throw, positioning herself behind him and dropping an elbow into his kidney.
Except he was familiar with that move himself, spun away from the attack, lashing out with a foot to knock her off balance.
With cool rage (of course) Sarah stepped over her attacker's foot and would have drawn her rapier had her attacker not expected *that* and inconveniently placed his hip in the way.
Although trained in weapons, Sarah was similarly disciplined in unarmed combat, and thus began a rapid flurry of elbow strikes and shoves in an attempt to dislodge her attacker.
Every strike was countered, every move blocked. Sarah was getting hot under the collar, an exceptional circumstance.
However, she was a follower of the Sightless Eye, and could call upon its aid even under the most extreme duress.
Time slowed again, and although she could not move as fast as she could perceive, she could almost leisurely pick out her attacks and blocks.
They battled on, silently (for a Sister never utters a sound during combat, even if in pain), the muffled sounds of blocked punches and kicks insufficient to reach the ears of her comrades.
So she battled on, watching the combat proceed at a snail's pace. She knew she could wear her attacker down, and strike the deathblow with as much accuracy of her arrows.
Then she noticed a fiery orange tinge around her attacker, which quickly (even in her accelerated perceptive state) bloomed into a maelstrom of energy. Blindingly fast even perceiving through her Eye, the attacker struck her square in the chest, knocking her into a far wall.
Aghast, she watched in unguarded concern (not fear, mind) while the monster charged straight for her, arms outstretched as if to rend her apart.
She recoiled involuntarily as the creatures hands (not claws, interesting) slammed into the wall at either side, crumbling the already decrepit construction, yet stopping his advance.
Sarah regarded her attacker in wonder. It was humanoid, hidden under a ragged robe oft-mended. Its face was hidden under a deep hood, revealing only a very human-looking mouth.
Said mouth was currently grinning like a dog that had just gotten away with something it knows it shouldn't have.
One hand reached back to reveal a scarred visage framed with shoulder-length unkempt red hair, green eyes, and a ragged beard wrapped around a goofy grin.
"Niklaus!" Sarah said in complete and utter shock.
"I don't think I've ever seen you this emotional," Niklaus said, still grinning broadly.
"When did your Eye open?"
"It didn't, but what you taught me did help. So how goes it?"
Sarah didn't respond except to attack him once again. Somehow, though, kissing someone was an odd form of attack.
However, it was quite effective in immoblizing Niklaus. Like everything in Sarah's life, it was direct, efficient, and completely ruthless as it drove Niklaus' hormones into the stratosphere.
she broke away from the kiss and Niklaus consciously uncurled his toes. "Don't you *ever* fight angry again," she said coldly, "you might end up dead from it." And with that she spun to march off.
Completely baffled from the double-tongue lashing, Niklaus took a second to recover and catch up with Sarah.
"The others are ahead, attempting to locate a temple built by some ancient race," she informed him.
"I've already been to the temple, and if they're going that way, they're going the wrong direction," Niklaus said.
"When were you there?"
"About a week ago, when they dragged me in there to sacrifice me."
"And what happened?"
"They sacrificed me."
"Oh. Somewhat inefficient. What did they use?"
"A big damn knife."
"Oh hells, it's not like you were awake for that part!" Sasha interjected accusingly.
"You're still walking though," Sarah continued.
"Well, I do have this healing Aura that...heals people."
"So where are the people that sacrificed you now?"
"In the temple, full of big damn knives. Some sort of snake things, actually."
"Oh. Well, we'd better catch up with the others and let them know you're alive."
~~~
The six of them camped in Niklaus' temporary home, a fairly strong-walled structure that opened into a narrow alley. Niklaus had chosen the building because it was one of the few left that still had a roof, and the narrow alley prevented too many monsters from swarming should he have to make a stand.
They were surrounded by various bladders full to bursting with water that Niklaus had harvested during his time there. The huge insects of the Aranoch carried several such bladders full of purified water to help survive the harsh desert heat. Niklaus had found a way to fell these insects and harvest them for his own survival.
Niklaus sat away from the campfire, desiring solitude despite his rib-crushing reunion with Ulfgar. He regarded the two swords before him.
In his right hand was Silence, his father's sword, heavily enchanted and powerful, with its bronze ricasso, long hilt and sweeping crossguard.
In his left was the weapon Fury as Simon had explained to him, with its brutal ridges and long grip. It too had a ricasso but no guard, nothing to detract from its brutal purpose. He noticed intricate runes on the weapon as on Silence, but with a more bloody purpose in mind. Those runes gave the weapon its ability to deliver such horrific wounds.
Simon said that the runes etched onto the weapon were of a far Eastern configuration, where fencing was built around the idea of a single fatal attack, and thus the blade was enchanted to do the most damage possible in a single hit.
Ulfgar had offered to teach him how to use two weapons at once, but he declined; Silence was too long to wield with a second weapon, and he would only trip himself up.
So Niklaus had rigged a way of carrying his two swords that Ulfgar had suggested, based on a far-eastern warrior he had met once. Both swords were tucked securely under two sashes, then Niklaus had wrapped a wide sash around over the belt, creating a very secure (and comfortable) set-up.
Niklaus had fallen into another introspective mood (he was having them on a fairly regular basis these days). Especially concerning Sarah.
Sarah had fallen back into her cool demeanor ever since that kiss, and Niklaus was starting to doubt it had happened.
"Oh, it happened," Sasha interjected, "even I got turned on by it."
"...Says the demon who gets turned on by violence, bloodshed, and overall destruction," Niklaus finished wryly, "'sides, it's not hard to get you excited."
"Yeah, your point?"
Niklaus chuckled (which coincidentally strengthened Simon's suspicions that the shiny-man might just be insane). "Any woman's insight on what happened back there?"
"Hells if I'd now," Sasha replied, "I'm not a woman, and I never was one. My sisters and I were actually created once the Prime Evils figured out how horny you human men were and how easily you were led around by your pants, it was just a natural course of action."
"Somehow you saying the word 'natural' is a contradiction."
"Don't sass me boy," Sasha said in her best authoritative voice, "I'm old enough to be your ancestor."
"Oh, like the younger men, eh?"
"Hey!"
"I mean, I've heard of robbing the cradle before, but...."
"Are you saying I look old?"
"Well, I was rather more preoccupied with those magical attacks of yours, and--"
"Oh, distracted by shiny lights, huh? Is that why you Paladin are called Shiny men?"
"I'm sorry? I got to looking at that fire over there...."
The shared the joke for a while before turning to more pressing matters.
Well, okay, Sarah wasn't exactly a pressing concern per se, but she did occupy a large portion of Niklaus' awareness.
"Well, she *does* have nice legs," Sasha supplied helpfully.
Niklaus decided that Sarah wasn't so pressing. Glad to be back in Ulfgar's company (he had missed the jovial giant) he found a softer bit of sand and dropped off into a deep sleep.
No one had the heart to wake him for his watch.