“Ratslobber, go!” I shout, pointing at a target. With a wordless growl, it shambles forward, lashing out at the indicated target with claws and teeth, even as I engage another. Scarlet fools, remnants of the fallen Crusade, they huddle at Hearthglen and imagine themselves safe.
There is no safety for them.
We of Acherus no longer follow the frozen ass of Northrend. His whispers do not cloud our minds, or fill us with hatreds not our own. We have our own hatreds to tend to now. Oh yes, and tend them we shall.
“No! Stop him!” I growl, directing my ghoul after one of the fools, trying to flee. Ratslobber breaks off his attack and immediately gives chase.
Unfortunately leaving me to deal with the angry female he had been clawing a moment before.
“Die, unclean filth!” the woman screams at me, swinging her blade wildly.
“Already did that,” I reply with a dark grin, easily blocking her unbalanced swing. A quick twist, a wretching jerk, and I send her heavy blade flying. She stands blinking down at me, weaponless. Stupid Scarlets, untrained for gnomish opponents. “Your turn now.”
A leap upwards, a quick, practiced sweep – she falls to the ground in a bloody mess of viscera and fluids. I pay no mind, turning to my next target. I smile viciously at him, a tall man, his Scarlet tabard now freshly splattered. “Wanna be next, shorty?”
My mistake. The bitch isn’t quite dead.
The holy energies hit me unexpectedly. It is a weak strike, but enough to break my focus for the briefest of moments. An armored boot to my gut steals my breath a moment, and I feel myself fly backwards. I hit the ground heavily, just managing to keep my grip on my runeblade. Not that it matters, as a heavy foot smashes down on my wrist. I cut off a shriek of pain.
“Time to die, gnome,” the man tells me, holding his blade above me, like some kind of holy executioner.
“Seriously, don’t you fools EVER come up with new lines?” I gasp derisively, then use my left hand to fling a frosty bolt of pain straight at my would-be tormentor’s head. He screams and falls back a step, releasing my sword-hand. Gritting teeth against the pain, I try to rise, but find myself knocked down again.
Damn. More of them. Stupid paladins. A pair of them hold me down now. I struggle fruitlessly, even as I see a blade being raised once again.
“For the Ligh…”
“NO HURTS TEDDY!” roars an inhuman voice, filled with rage.
I blink.
A whirlwind of flying teeth and claws hit the poor fools from behind. Amid shouts and screams, I clearly hear the strange battle cry, over and over again.
“NO HURTS TEDDY! RATTY’S TEDDY! NO HURTS!”
Once the dust settles, I find myself hoisted in the air, lungs almost crushed in an overly-exuberant hug, face assaulted by horribly disgusting slobber. And I realize exactly who – and what – my savior was.
“BY THE NETHER, YOU STUPID ROT-BRAINED OAF! PUT ME DOWN BEFORE I PUT YOU BACK INTO AN EARLY GRAVE!” I shout.
It takes several minutes before I convince the stupid thing to put me down.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment