Fiction: Death on Dark Wings p10

"Tell me before I kill you, pig orc, what beast rules your wolf" said the
elf in ragged breaths, blood collecting at the corner of his mouth.  His
reaply was a massive swipe from one of korgesh's axes, collecting the sword
and ripping it from his hands, while the butt of another axe slammed into
his face to drop him to the ground, the scro spitting "I am not an ORC!"



            The elf was not dead, but his nose was broken, and one of his
eyes was shut in pain.  Blood began to spread from behind his head as he lay
on the floor, likely from some debris cutting him, and Korgesh turned to
grab the elf's blade from where it had fallen.  "Tell me" came the hoarse
whisper from behind, underneath the sound the slight noise of the elf
reaching for something, and as Korgesh turned back and speared the elf in
the stomach with his own sword, the elf's lightning bolt went off right on
the admirals chest, sending electricity surging through his body.  Some
magical backlash from the elf's protective spell also struck him, fire
burning back up the arm that had thrown the spear, singing his thick hide as
he fell to his back upon the ground.



            Slowing his breath to better control himself, the scro stood
once more, pulling a healing potion from his belt to pour upon his wounds
from the spells.  Clenching the teeth in his muzzle, a sneer of pain as the
magic worked in his body showing his tusks, he closed his eyes and laughed
internally at the joke, opening them to look down upon his freshly healed
arm and the dead elf, replying but two words.



            "The Warthog".





            Having roused and, with potions, healed the five scro left alive
from the battle, Korgesh sent a scout down the end of the hall, and then one
either way to further explore the area.  One returned dragging a cowering,
babbling elven woman, yet another battle-wizard, and obviously the one who
had cast the other passwall spell - as it still remained.  Obviously she had
fled when the battle had turned, or even perhaps at the beginning, who could
tell with the spineless elves?  The marine quickly bound her hands behind
her back and gagged her, claiming his right to be the first to have her once
they returned to the battlewagon, Korgesh nodding his approval.  All of
this, of course, was said in elven, and she thrashed wildly and had to be
knocked out after hearing it.



            Assuming the fight was over - the elves to arrogant and thinking
they would not loose to have left behind saboteurs, Korgesh ordered his
marines back to the battlewagon, himself trailing behind as something pulled
at his memory.  Many things about the battle flower through his mind -
including the reasoning that the battle-poet he had given a pretty decking
gorget had cast something akin to a time stop, one of the archmagi
warpriests' favourite spells, and then thrown up a blade barrier with
dimensions just right to decapitate and scare the scro.  The passwalls had
been an interesting tactic aswell, yet he thought there should have been
more of a fight from the bladesingers, and still felt he was missing
something.  By the time this thought crossed his fatigued mind, he was just
exiting a large room, his marines and the captive elf in the halfway in
front.



            As such, he was not surprised, but angered, by the elven word
"Die" being uttered behind him.  All five of the marines and the elf dropped
to the ground (the elf already unconscious) immediately, yet the admiral
felt the spell had not caught him within its radius, and turned to see its
caster.



            The master bladesinger elf, the one element Korgesh had
forgotten about stood there, a scroll slowly disintegrating from his hand.
His other hand held his sword low, point resting on the ground, and he had
discarded some of his armour for pure elven chainmal - likely magical.



            Scro and elf stared into each others eyes, hatred from both, yet
a logical summing up of the opponent occurring in each's mind.  "My wife",
commented the elf, earning a tilted head from Korgesh, "Better she die now
than after the torture given her by your people".



            A raised eyebrow from Korgesh was the only reply for moments,
and then "You have strength elf, a shame I must take that away from you with
your life.  How shall we do this?  Here?  By sword?  By fist?".  The
question hung in the air for moments, and slowly the elf's hand uncurled
from the hilt of his blade, letting it clang to the floor.



            A broad grin came over Korgesh's muzzle, as he began to remove
his gauntlets, dropping them by his axes which he had leant against the
wall.  The elf began to remove his chainmail tunic, and so Korgesh removed
his armour also, both soon stripped almost naked - one to his long elven
underpants, the other to the shorts he wore under the padding for his
armour.  The two faced off, approaching to about ten feet apart, each
picking that the other had received martial arts training of a sort -
although where the scro received his from the elf did not know.



            Slowly they circled, eyes locked together, muzzle in and mouth
each in a snarl.  The elf was the first to move, feignting a punch to
Korgesh's muzzle, and then driving his other fist home into the scro's
stomach.  To the admirals surprise the punch bent him over slightly, the elf
explaining between gritted teeth "My father was a sylvan elf" as his other
hand uppercut the scro under the muzzle and sent him sprawling backward.



            Rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself up quickly with his
powerful arms, Korgesh spun and backhanded the elf in the face, feeling
satisfaction as he felt bone crunch.  He then continued his movement,
catching the elf partially turned from the strength of the blow with a heavy
kick to his back, sending him flying through the air to slam into the nearby
wall.  The elf, however, did not fall, and rolled his shoulders along the
wall to face the scro again.  Wiping blood from his mouth, several teeth
coming out, neither opponent blinked as they glared at each other again, the
elf remarkably steady on his feet for such a blow.



            "You fight well elf, perhaps too well.  Show your true form,
prove my theory that you are more than you seem" said Korgesh, standing
roughly fifteen feet away in the center of the room.  A look of surprise
slowly came over his face as the shadow made by the elf elongated and his
opponent blocked the window and the sun, expanding into an eight foot tall
insectoid, a large gem in its forehead, spines and claws protruding from its
arms, knees, hands and feet.



Tilaurin
tilaurin@?????????????????.com
http://www.planetbaldursgate.com/atreus/index.html
"Dying Swans/Twisted Wings,
Bring This Savage Back Home"
- Brave New World, Iron Maiden