Chapter Four: To Kill a VanCleef, Part One: Gnoll Rest for the Wicked
It hadn't been very long before Aubs shuffled back off to her own bed and everyone, exhausted, dozed off in the uncomfortable hay-filled mattresses they laid claim to. When Simonee had woken up, even he had to admit that despite the bed fit more for feeding horses, it had been probably the best night's sleep he'd gotten in a little while.
The group had woken up and were listening with rapt attention as Stoutmantle laid out the plan and the intelligence he had for them.
"We found this fine, upstanding member of society yesterday. It seems your druid's nonlethal approach was good for something," he began, gesturing at a bound Defias gangster. The man was bald, the early day's sun reflecting off the astoundingly shiny surface. His red bandanna was in tatters, but was still fastened tightly across his nose and mouth. "We've already spoken with him a bit, and he's been surprisingly forthcoming about the possible whereabouts of their little hideout."
The leather-clad bandit squirmed restlessly in his bonds for a moment, but was relatively motionless besides. His deep brown eyes appraised the group with a look of mild interest playing at his eyebrows. "They don't exactly pay well enough for all of this," he muttered, lolling his head from side to side in a gesture that Simonee could only assume was meant to encompass the Hill.
"Anyway," Stoutmantle continued, sparing nothing more than a disdainful glance in the bandit's direction, "he didn't give the People's Militia its specific location, but he has agreed to lead a small scouting party to the hideout, and requested that it be you. Personally, I see no reason why that shouldn't happen, considering that was going to be the plan in the first place." Stoutmantle pulled out a small roll of parchment, and even upside down, Simonee could see that it was a map of Westfall. "Our traitor friend here mentioned that the Defias base is to the south of us. There's only a few places that would fit the description, and if you want my bet, my money's on somewhere near Moonbrook."
"Moonbrook, sir?" Simonee asked. The mage wasn't very familiar with the name. He suddenly regretted not taking the initiative and looking at a map of the area before now.
"Aye. It's a town to the south that's directly connected to the biggest mine on this side of the Eastern Kingdoms," he mentioned as he pointed it out on the map. The map displayed a small icon of a house that was surrounded by the small carrots indicating mountains or hills, and a line led from the house icon into the indication of a cave mouth. "We settled the place quite some time ago, after Sentinel Hill grew big enough to warrant such expansion, and the mine located there has been an incredible boon to us and to Stormwind. However, we've stopped receiving shipments and correspondence from them, and what's even better, it coincides with about the time the Defias started attacking. We've had suspicions, but lacked the manpower to investigate it."
"So... wait. You've already known where they are, but you haven't counterattacked them?" Dagerly asked, raising an eyebrow and holding up a hand to stop the elder knight. "You could have stopped their attacks, but didn't?"
Stoutmantle glared at the rogue, his mouth set in a thin line. "My duty is to the people of Sentinel Hill. If I went off half-cocked on suspicions and hearsay, I would be in gross dereliction of that duty, possibly even inviting harm to come to them, and I cannot abide by that. So no, I have not ordered a counterattack in the case that it may be a bait and switch. I cannot order my men to attack what could amount to nothing more than phantoms."
Dagerly scowled in return, but didn't say anything else on the matter.
"So when are we leaving?" Simonee said, returning the conversation to its track. He didn't want his friend to do something he might end up causing the whole group to regret.
"Right now, actually. We've got no time to waste. I want you to take a couple of your allies and our captive here and find their base of operations. When you've done that, return to me. Under no circumstances are you to attack that base until we have a plan. Is that understood?" Stoutmantle wore a very serious expression, and he was obviously speaking in response of Dagerly's outburst. Simonee silently cursed his friend's outspoken nature—it was clear that the knight in front of them expected him to keep a tighter leash on them, despite the fact that they were not, in fact, a part of the Stormwind army, officially or otherwise.
Simonee nodded, and responded, "Yes, sir. Go out, find the base, come back. No rough stuff."
The mage looked on with a hint of interest as the knight actually smiled. It was the first time he'd actually seen the man do so, and it looked as though it happened about as often as it seemed—his grin was entirely lopsided and awkward. "Good. Whoever you don't select for the mission will remain here and assist the militia with a few small tasks. Make your choice and be on your way. As I said, time is not exactly on our side here."
At his last word, Stoutmantle turned and disappeared into the bowels of the tower, leaving the mage and his friends to make the decision. Simonee already had an idea of who he wanted with him.
"Alright," he started, running a hand through the bangs of his hair. "Aeriah, Dagerly, you're with me." He wanted his oldest friends at his side, and he figured that the two of them would be excellent for reconnaissance. "Hoardale, Aubs, stay here and do whatever Stoutmantle wants. No reason we should deny him that."
"Of course," Hoardale said. "Light be with you, Sim," he added, almost mockingly.
Simonee laughed at the comment. "I would say the same to you, but I think we both know how you feel about that subject," he replied with his smile still present. "Oh, and I'd suggest the voidwalker. At least that thing won't mistake Aubs for a demon."
It was Hoardale's turn to laugh, "Duly noted."
Aeriah cleared his throat pointedly. "Alright, alright," Simonee said. "Let's get going. We'll be back soon."
Simonee collected the traitor and together with his hand-picked allies, they strode away from Sentinel Hill, passing by the shacks lining the heavily-tracked snow that marked the path out of the town, and turned toward the south once they cleared the sides of the hills backing the inn and its adjacent buildings. Again, townsfolk peered meekly out of their ever-so-slightly-ajar doors, staring daggers at the red mask of the man in front of the party. For his part, the man simply ignored them and continued on.
The snow on the ground crunched loudly with every step, and it was already beginning to irritate the mage, but he pressed on, keeping the traitor a step ahead of him with a firm grasp on his forearm, just above the bindings on his wrists. The man was tense, and his shoulders were squared as if he expected to fight... or like he was being marched to his execution. The thought stuck out in Simonee's mind.
When they had finally rounded the small snow-capped hills bordering the settlement, the Defias man seemed to relax a little. "This is going to be quite a trip, you know. Westfall's a big place."
The man's words didn't faze Simonee much; he knew Westfall's reputation for being much larger than it appeared. The generally-flat landscape allowed travelers to see for miles in all directions, which perpetuated the illusion of a profound smallness, when in fact the area was almost as big as Elwynn Forest, with the annexed lands of the Northshire Abbey and Stormwind City included. At the very least, the lack of hills would make the trip relatively gentle.
"Yes, and what is your point?" he asked, leveling a glare into the back of the man's bald head. He noticed a few loose red strings dangling from the fastened knot that attached the bandanna to his face.
The man sighed. "This isn't going to be a one-day trip, is what I'm saying. Your arm's going to tire out if you continue to death grip me like that," he muttered, irritation clear in his voice.
"If you think, even for a moment, that I'm going to release you for a reason such as that, you're quite mistaken," Simonee said with a mirthless chuckle. "There is no reason you wouldn't just run the very moment I did. I can only imagine what a band of brigands would do to someone who betrayed their cause."
The Defias actually laughed boisterously at the mage's comment. He sighed as he settled down, saying, "You don't know the half of it, but you do have a point. They're going to want me dead for bringing you there, and they're going to want you dead just for your trespass." Simonee noted the extra stress he placed on the latter half of the statement. "I'd suggest you be prepared."
"I wouldn't worry about us, buddy," Dagerly interjected, listening on from just behind Simonee. "I would, however, worry about yourself, and what will happen once we finish this." He pulled out one of his daggers from its cracked leather sheathe on his belt, holding it up to the light in a show of inspecting it. The blade was a straight-edged implement, unlike the wickedly curved blades other rogues tended to enjoy using. "I may not be much more than a killer for hire," Dagerly had told Simonee when he asked about it, "but I'm not a monster. I don't like causing more pain than is due."
Simonee saw a streak of fear in the man's eyes as he turned his head to look at the rogue. "What do you mean?" he asked, almost timidly. "Stoutmantle and his people promised me amnesty if I did this. You can't touch me."
Dagerly chuckled. "Right, and you won't decide to take off at the first opportunity. I'm telling you that if you do, you won't regret it for very long."
"Can't you see you're putting this poor fellow in distress?" Aeriah asked, falling into step beside the rogue. His tone was lightly sarcastic, and Simonee wondered at what the two of them were up to. "I don't exactly trust him, mind you, but if he cooperates with us... well I'd say that earns him what he was offered."
The Defias man scoffed, becoming clearly unimpressed with the way the conversation was turning out. "Look, you can play Uther and Kil'jaeden all you like. You don't scare me," he said, the fear fading from his voice. "Like I said, you can't touch me... and you can stay right the fel away from me with that stick of yours," he added, nodding toward Aeriah's general direction.
"For one, you should rethink your position here. You're not in a place where you can order anyone around, much less Aeriah here. Secondly, I don't think I care much about what Stoutmantle thinks of me," Dagerly quipped in a near growl. The dagger glinted sharply in the light. The rogue's words and display had a more profound effect on the man in front of Simonee than the first attempt, and betraying his almost calm appearance, the mage could feel him quivering slightly in spite of himself.
He had heard enough. "Okay. I think he gets the point," he said, patting the traitor on the shoulder with his free hand. The Defias jumped slightly at the touch. "We don't need to antagonize him any more. He'll cooperate... right?"
"Yeah, sure. Whatever," the man replied, his voice shaky and clearly unnerved.
By then, they had put quite a distance between them and Sentinel Hill. The town's stolid tower still imposed itself on the horizon as if they hadn't even left, but Simonee ignored the touted illusion. Ahead of them, quite a long way, he thought he could see the makings of wooden buildings at the base of a stretch of mountains. Closer, he could definitely see small campsites with small pitched tents scattered across the plains, complete with cooking fires with spits erected above them. The spits were empty, and the tents looked tattered and in shambles. He realized with a pit in his stomach that he recognized the work on display. Gnolls.
The gnoll population could have been considered a more dangerous cousin to the kobold. Whereas kobolds were small and timid, gnolls were very large and intimidating. They had snarling faces that resembled a dog's—along with paws for hands and feet—and powerful legs that, if extended fully, drew them up to a height that could tower over a man. They generally wore the pilfered and bloodstained armor and arms from fallen soldiers, which despite the ill fit caused them to look even more frightening. On top of all that, they had burly furred arms several inches thick with corded muscle, and were even stronger than they looked. It also wasn't unheard of to see gnolls and kobolds working together—more often than not it was the gnolls forcing the kobolds into servitude, but the point remained.
In Elwynn, and the lands near Goldshire in specific, gnolls were a fairly rare sight, a fact for which Simonee had been grateful. The most concentrated population in the forest was a long distance from the small town, close by the border to Westfall. Guards from Stormwind were constantly being rotated to fight them back; a tower much like the one posted at Sentinel Hill housed a contingent of soldiers tasked with killing the most notorious and craftiest of the nasty dog-like creatures, who inexplicably referred to himself as Hogger. Every so often, Simonee would see injured soldiers traveling through Goldshire toward the city on the backs of horse-drawn carriages as they were replaced with fresher troops, which made the mage quite glad he hadn't ever been contracted to try and bring the beast to justice.
The gnoll camps around the snowy plains concerned Simonee; he hadn't been told to expect them, and suddenly felt wholly unprepared for the expedition he'd been sent on. He did his best to hide his new trepidation that rose with every step closer, keeping a firm—but not too firm—grip on the man's arm.
They had gotten quite close indeed to one such camp by the time the sun began to set to the west. The fire, despite being completely untended for hours on end, continued to roar and sputter, and little dots of light marked out what looked to Simonee like a random plot of taken lands. Despite the gnolls' considerable intelligence and craftiness, it didn't seem like these camps had been placed very strategically, nor did it appear that they communicated between themselves. The observation eased Simonee's concerns slightly, but he was still very wary about trying to take on a pack of gnolls, even with his friends at his side. The mage took note of the darkening sky, and decided that now would probably be a great time to set up their own little camp, while they were still a good distance away from those of the gnolls.
"I hate to say it, but it's far too cold around here to forego a fire," he muttered to Dagerly and Aeriah when they finally settled to a stop. The rogue was looking much more amiable than he had the days previous, and Simonee could only surmise that it was because he was finally getting a chance to do something besides being carted around cities and towns. "We'll have to keep it as small as possible, though... if the gnolls catch wind that we're around, things will get very ugly, very quickly."
Dagerly nodded, looking across the plain toward one of the gnolls' closer campsites. "Yeah. I don't exactly feel comfortable with the idea of being roasted on one of those spits," he commented with a slight sneer. Simonee tended to agree. Being eaten alive was certainly not an item on his list of things to do.
"I, for one don't think it's a good idea to stop here," Aeriah said. He shifted his weight restlessly and his eyes scanned the expanse ahead, looking for any sign of the gnolls who called the camps home.
"We have to, unfortunately. I agree that it's dangerous, but there's really no option here," Simonee explained. "Without the sunlight, we're basically walking blind."
Aeriah sighed explosively, as he brought his gaze to Simonee's. He finally stopped squirming for a moment. "Alright, but what about our guide?" he asked in a whisper, nodding meaningfully at the Defias who was making quite the show of pretending not to listen in. He seemed to be taking a vague interest his shoes, but stole furtive glances at the group standing nearby every now and then. To his credit, even though Simonee allowed him alone without a bracing hand, he hadn't made a move to try and escape. Perhaps Dagerly's transparent threats had done the trick.
"What about him?" asked the rogue, noting the same reluctance to try and leave. "I don't think he's going anywhere."
The man kicked at some dirt as Aeriah watched him shift his weight to his other leg. "All the same, I think we should have some sort of tangible insurance."
Simonee thought to argue more, but reconsidered. He was tired from a day's worth of hiking and gripping the man's arm had indeed taken a toll on his hands and arms. They burned and ached and he just wanted to rest. "Fine," was the syllable he settled on. He rummaged through his packs and found a twine of rope he carried with him for long incursions into the various mines in Elwynn. He generally used it as a pathfinding tool—he would lay it down behind him to mark his path through the caves so he could return to the entrance easily—and occasionally used it to descend into lower caverns. It was an old rope that he picked up after his first time getting lost in Jangodeep mine, from a shifty-eyed merchant who occasionally posted himself at the crossroads between the Redridge Mountains and Westfall. The rope was rather thin and well-used, and frayed strands poked through the weave at irregular intervals. He only hoped it would be strong enough for this purpose.
He strode over to the Defias traitor and began fitting the rope around the preexisting binds that held his arms to his back. With a yank, he finished the knot and trailed the rope behind him as he took several long strides away.
"What's this about?" the man asked. His eyes darted between the rope in Simonee's hand and his own hands behind his back.
"Insurance," Simonee replied brusquely. He wasn't very interested in talking anymore, longing to just sit and try not to think about the gnolls and their gnashing teeth and their huge paws and the swords they pilfered and the soldiers being carted past with gashes as thick and long as his finger and missing limbs and...
Simonee stopped himself with a deep breath. Now was not the time to panic.
The mage looked around and saw a wooden post sticking out of the snow nearby. The post rose to about his waist and at the top he noticed a plank of wood bolted perpendicularly across it. What used to be a fence, he mused. That would do. He moved to the fence's remnant and lashed the rope around its base with another knot. Satisfied with his work, he glanced pointedly back at Aeriah who nodded in thanks. Then he realized another problem. They spoke about a campfire, but had nothing to start it with. There wasn't anything in his pack he could use for it, either. He sighed, knowing what he would need to do. He didn't relish the thought one bit.
As a young man, Simon Everblaze had lived in Stormwind with his parents, his brother and his sister in a small home in what was now considered the 'Old Town'. He realized he was attuned with the arcane when he started an incident involving fire and an abandoned warehouse on the other side of the district, and that was when his life changed... and his life changed him. He had become fearful of the power within him, and of fire magic especially after witnessing its pure destructive power. He still hadn't quite gotten over that now—even after extensive training through his teenage years—and he didn't like tapping into his power for vanities like this. With another deep breath, he reminded himself that it wasn't a vanity... it was absolutely necessary. They would likely freeze to death otherwise with the winds rushing through the low, flat lands and the snow beneath them freezing over in the absence of the sun's relative warmth.
Simonee knelt to the ground and cleared his mind, reaching inwardly for the magic that rushed through his veins. Its currents washed over him and he pulled from it as if he'd dipped a cup into a bubbling stream, harnessing the magic's incessant hum of power. Runes danced in his mind's eye, an ancient language long forgotten but for the world's mages, each symbol defining a different aspect of a spell's function. He mentally picked and chose at the ones he would use, each selection burning slightly brighter than the rest that continued to float on by. When he finished, the runes formed a string, like letters forming a word, and if translated to a more modern tongue, that string would have read combustion.
The process always felt longer in his mind, but in the span of a few mere seconds after he knelt, a bright pinpoint of fire spontaneously blazed to life and expanded into a more suitable size for their small party. The snow beneath the floating patch of flames melted away, revealing the ruddy colors of the dead grasses beneath, illuminated by the flickering tendrils of fire above. The fire gradually stopped growing, and finally stopped completely, before it had been able to match the breadth of the gnolls' fires. Simonee silently hoped that the gnolls would disregard it as another of their campsites.
With his tasks complete, he blew out a slow breath from his mouth, the heat from it misting in the brisk winter air, and surveyed the situation. The rope that tethered the Defias to the broken section of fence held firm, either belying its strength or showing that the man truly didn't intend to test it. Aeriah continued to surreptitiously monitor their guide, sitting on his legs and keeping his staff ready. Across from him, Dagerly had opted to sharpen his knives, but even as relaxed as he seemed to be, Simonee had known the man long enough to see that he was in fact quite alert and ready to pounce should the need arise. Simonee's gut and his primal fears told him that it wasn't the traitor they really had to worry about.
After they set up a watch schedule—which Simonee had reluctantly took up first watch to ensure nothing untoward would happen to their Defias guide—everyone settled in for the long night ahead. The traitor curled himself up as comfortably as he could, on the ground with his hands still tied behind his back, next to the fire. Simonee's two allies had bedrolls laid out across the snow that managed to escape the flame's heat, and both had drifted to a more or less peaceful sleep, leaving the mage alone with his thoughts... and the gnolls. None had shown up in the hour or so he'd been watching, but he was absolutely not about to let his guard down. He heard the occasional baying of one or two in the distance, and the sounds sent shivers through his body... or maybe that was the penetrating cold in the air. Simonee couldn't be sure, but he absolutely knew he didn't like what he was hearing.
Before long, however, he had begun to lose focus. The cold bit at his body harshly, draining his energy and continually drawing his thoughts to keep his teeth from chattering together as he shivered. Another few moments after he noticed that, he began to pass out involuntarily.
It felt like he'd barely been out for a few seconds when he heard rustling noises and the straining of wood. Simonee opened his eyes and stifled a terrified yelp. Two towering gnolls had indeed come to investigate the group's camp. To his surprise, they seemed more interested in the Defias captive than anyone else. The beasts wore piecemeal armor that had several holes punctured through the mail and leather, as well as char marks as big as Simonee's hand that splashed out against the materials. One was barely shorter than the other, maybe half a head by Simonee's estimation through the chilly haze his head had become. The taller of the two was a spectacular specimen of sheer size—twice as burly as the average gnoll Simonee had seen, and about ten times uglier. His furry muzzle was marred almost beyond recognition by several long scars and chunks of missing flesh, obviously the effect of either a savage mauling or a particularly hairy battle. The smaller was almost meek by comparison, with thin and wiry arms that hid the creature's obvious strength. Simonee could still see the incredible tendons through the fur and flesh as they bulged with effort. The gnolls had grabbed the Defias' shoulders and ribs with four meaty and matted paws and were hefting mightily against the tether. It held, but only barely, as more threads came loose from the weave. The fence post did not.
With a sharp crack, the fence post shattered in two. The portion that remained in the frozen ground was jagged and splintered into wicked spikes, but even that paled to the other half, equally as deadly sharp and flying straight at Simonee. The knot that fastened the rope to the fence held tight, but had slid to the wooden rail in the gnolls' efforts, and as they took off running with the bandit defector, the impromptu stake had been dragged along with them. Simonee thought quickly and leapt toward the rapidly moving rope, his hands outstretched. His gambit paid off in that his hands made contact with the rope, but he was quickly coming to realize how bad of an idea it truly had been; almost immediately he felt a sharp pain as the loose threads of the hemp bit into his hands as they sped past, and it was all he could do to not cry out in pain as he gripped onto it with all his might. When his raw hands finally found purchase in their grip, he began to be pulled along at a frightening speed, the ground beneath him a blur of pure white. The joints at his shoulders and elbows screamed for mercy at the jolt of the impact. Behind him, he noticed his friends, prepared for battle and rushing behind him and the gnolls.
He couldn't tell how far they'd been pulled along, but he didn't really want to think about it. When they finally stopped, he finally let go of the rope, stained a bright red with his blood. Hundreds of small cuts lined his palms, and whatever skin hadn't ended up mutilated by the rope was rubbed raw by the friction. He chanced a look at where they'd ended up, and wasn't very surprised to see they'd been dragged—literally in his case—to one of the larger camps further along in the plains. The two gnolls that had infiltrated his camp disappeared into the folds of the larger tent of the two that had been erected. It was comprised of a thick black cloth, and shreds of it fluttered violently in the winds that swept through the plain. Before too long, the gnolls returned to his sight, and two more had joined them. These gnolls looked to be of more average build, with no particularly remarkable features that stood out to Simonee's dazed inspection.
The four gnolls immediately set to work, carrying the Defias bandit—who was now quite awake and screaming, while his eyes very nearly bulged out of his head—toward their spit above the fire. The man thrashed wildly in a vain attempt to loosen their hold on him, but the effort did nothing but tire him out. Simonee cursed under his breath and began to draw himself up. His hands and arms hurt like he'd just been trying to wrestle ravenous Stranglethorn piranhas swimming in razor blades, but he disregarded it. He once again called upon his magic stores and quickly assembled a couple of fireballs that blazed brightly above both of his outstretched hands.
"Let him go!" he called defiantly as the gnolls finally began to take notice of his presence. "I won't say it again."
As he spoke, he bought a precious few seconds for his allies to arrive, winded and looking more than a little worse for wear. They each stopped at his side and readied their weapons, panting wildly and trying to appear more ready than they actually were. Simonee realized a little dejectedly that it must have been quite a distance indeed that he'd been dragged along. The gnolls, for their part, looked almost amused by the show the two humans and the night elf had put on. The large one even smiled. Simonee fought the urge to hurl at the sight of the rows of yellow-stained teeth on display.
Unintelligibly, the large gnoll Simonee took to calling Smiles—the leader, if he had to guess—shouted orders to the others, and all at once, they dropped the Defias man unceremoniously to the frozen ground. A harsh thump and a meek grunt of pain broke the relative silence before the sounds of unsheathed weapons rang out across the camp.
Simonee almost did a double-take when he noticed the brandished cutlery. Smiles held a nearly impeccable wicked pike in his bulky paws, and the others were outfitted with simple-looking swords with notches missing from the steel blades. Comically small bucklers had been strapped the smaller gnolls' arms, but the humor of the situation was clearly lost on the terrified Simonee. Not for the first time, he desperately wished that whoever created gnolls had been cursed with the cruelest and most foul ailment they could possibly have contracted.
Without another word, Smiles began the charge. Simonee fired off both of the fireballs he'd been lofting in quick succession, aimed directly at the hulking gnoll. His opponent battered the first away effortlessly with the flat of his pike's blade, and simply rushed through the second, which splashed against his already-blackened chain hauberk. The attack barely even seemed to faze the beast, who let out a guttural roar as he neared the mage, his pike poised to strike. As the pike came down to cleave him from the shoulder down, Simonee nimbly dove away as his reflexes took hold. As he fell toward the ice beneath him, he quickly fashioned a prison that trapped Smiles' legs in that same ice. The gnoll furrowed his brow and snarled darkly in his direction. Before another moment passed, Simonee crashed to the ground and all the air left his lungs in a single rush. His ribs ached terribly as he scrambled to rise again, and he made a mental note to not do that again. Upon standing, the mage readied another fireball and shot it at his immobile target. Smiles was not living up to his namesake as the roiling flames neared him. A flash of motion caught Simonee's eye before the spell connected, but his nose was assaulted by the stench of burning fur all the same.
A glance was all it took for Simonee to realize what had happened. The smallest gnoll had leapt in front of the fireball just as it was about to land, taking the deathblow for Smiles. His fur smoldered gently around the gaping wound in his chest, the same rough circumference as an apple. Simonee sneered and cursed inwardly. He didn't think gnolls actually had compassion for one another! He knew a decent amount about gnolls, but this was the first time he'd ever heard of—or seen, for that matter—such a display of misguided heroism from the filthy animals. It hadn't changed his mind about them, and he fully intended to slay all of these brutes, but it gave him enough pause for the icy buildup around Smiles' legs to dissipate, losing him his advantage. The gnoll roared again and once again took a battle stance, his cloudy eyes brightened with rage.
Another instant and Smiles' pike was once again whistling through the air at him. Keeping in mind the result of his last evasive maneuver, Simonee quickly sidestepped the sharp blade and retaliated with a blast of super-heated air. The attack sent flames licking once more at the shredded mail that barely contained Smiles' bulky form, and knocked him back several paces. The gnoll let out a low growl and began a quick succession of attacks, each more frenzied and desperate than the last. More than a few nicked at the hard leather pads bouncing around in the mage's new robe's inner pockets, and for once he was grateful that they were there. He admitted to himself that they were indeed worth the horrible chafing feeling.
Soon enough, Smiles' endurance wore thin, and the attacks slowed, finally giving Simonee another chance to finally end the fight. This hulking beast had caused him enough grief now, and he was more than ready to be rid of him. He quickly summoned up a larger portion of the magic within him and with it formed an immense ball of pure, raging flame in his anger. He was beginning to lose his fear of the powerful destroyer that floated blithely above his palm, and that very thought concerned him. He thought back to the warehouse he'd accidentally demolished in his youth, and how fearful he'd been before learning it truly was abandoned. Simonee shook the thoughts out of his head visibly and steeled himself. This was different. This time, he was defending not only himself, but someone else, and if he didn't attack, things were going to get worse for him. This needed to end, now. With a shout, Simonee let the flames loose.
Smiles reacted too late to the attack, flagging from his flurry only moments before. Before he could evade it, the missile was upon him, and he was nothing more than so much ash scattering in the wind.
Simonee collapsed to his knees and fell forward, losing consciousness long before his head hit the hard frozen ground.