warrior howled madly as it fell, struggling to keep its innards from pouring out of the wound.
Leaping to his feet, he met the attack of the axe-wielding gnoll. Hooking his sword beneath the head of the heavy weapon, he kicked forward into the gnoll’s kneecap. The joint cracked and Quin swiftly disarmed the beast. As the unarmed gnoll fell to the ground, Quinsareth turned to face the scimitar, once again arcing toward his neck.
This time, he blocked the gnoll’s crude slash. Bedlam screeched as it bit into the heavy-bladed sword, protesting the defensive maneuver and unconcerned by the threat of injury to its wielder. The blade was overcome by an arcane bloodlust, flaring to life its green-hued glow of battle. The gnoll flinched at the magic weapon’s surge and pulled back in fear. Quinsareth seized that brief lapse to force the scimitar high with his block, bringing Bedlam down viciously through the gnoll’s shoulder and upper chest. The nearly bisected beast toppled backward senselessly, splashing in the gathering puddles. Blank eyes stared at the dead gnoll’s five companions, who had slowed their brash charge and circled more cautiously around the enraged ghostwalker.
The injured gnoll tried to stand and limp on his damaged knee, carefully eyeing the movements of the quick, silent warrior. Quinsareth looked at the injured beast cruelly, leveling his cold gaze on the wary gnoll.
He spoke low, growling under the heavy rain and powerful thunder. Only the gnollish words for “lame dog” rose above the storm. An insult to gnollkind, the title was for those unfit to run with the pack. The injured gnoll turned and limped away in shame and fear, unwilling to face his tribal brethren.
Quin observed the others, their cautious steps and trembling blades. The large gnoll once again barked orders to his subordinates. He commanded them to close and end the battle quickly. None seemed eager to comply, but they crept forward, their ears flat against their doglike heads, growling menacingly. Amid their murmuring threats, Quin picked out the name Gyusk, apparently their leader, not well loved by some of the squad. Beyond the backs of the gnolls, Quin spied an ogre, patiently watching the spectacle. The giant effortlessly held a massive black glaive as he watched the battle over the heads of the gathered crowd.
The townsfolk shivered in the cold rain, eyes darting between their captors and the dark warrior who fought them, waiting for a chance to run away from both. The sight of Quinsareth’s fair skin, splattered with the gnolls’ blood, and his intensely opalescent eyes, like the gaze of a dead man, was monstrous and horrifying. The captives waited breathlessly, as yet unsure of who was the savior and who the villain in the unfolding scenario.
Quin was certain of the villain, but had no taste for the title of savior. These people could have been dead, and he still would have fought. It was a rare day that his brand of justice saved the living. He flashed a feral grin at the gnolls’ commander and charged recklessly. Bedlam led the advance, humming and flashing brightly, accompanying the lightning overhead.
The gnolls closed swiftly and he reached the center of the group, dodging and tumbling past clumsy attacks. Those attacks were made clumsier by freezing hands and shadow-born fear. Quinsareth quickly parried two blades that came close and rolled into a somersault to leap at the center gnoll. The beast yelped and tried to avoid the madman, but Bedlam sliced through the gnoll’s shoulder and bit deep into its collarbone. Quinsareth used the bone as a fulcrum in a tumbling jump. Flipping over the screaming gnoll’s head, he landed in front of the startled but ready Gyusk.
They exchanged quick blows, blades ringing in a blur of steel and rage. Behind Quin, the other gnolls turned to catch up to the ghostwalker. Quinsareth pushed Gyusk’s blade back just enough to land a kick into the gnoll commander’s jaw. Gyusk
Leaping to his feet, he met the attack of the axe-wielding gnoll. Hooking his sword beneath the head of the heavy weapon, he kicked forward into the gnoll’s kneecap. The joint cracked and Quin swiftly disarmed the beast. As the unarmed gnoll fell to the ground, Quinsareth turned to face the scimitar, once again arcing toward his neck.
This time, he blocked the gnoll’s crude slash. Bedlam screeched as it bit into the heavy-bladed sword, protesting the defensive maneuver and unconcerned by the threat of injury to its wielder. The blade was overcome by an arcane bloodlust, flaring to life its green-hued glow of battle. The gnoll flinched at the magic weapon’s surge and pulled back in fear. Quinsareth seized that brief lapse to force the scimitar high with his block, bringing Bedlam down viciously through the gnoll’s shoulder and upper chest. The nearly bisected beast toppled backward senselessly, splashing in the gathering puddles. Blank eyes stared at the dead gnoll’s five companions, who had slowed their brash charge and circled more cautiously around the enraged ghostwalker.
The injured gnoll tried to stand and limp on his damaged knee, carefully eyeing the movements of the quick, silent warrior. Quinsareth looked at the injured beast cruelly, leveling his cold gaze on the wary gnoll.
He spoke low, growling under the heavy rain and powerful thunder. Only the gnollish words for “lame dog” rose above the storm. An insult to gnollkind, the title was for those unfit to run with the pack. The injured gnoll turned and limped away in shame and fear, unwilling to face his tribal brethren.
Quin observed the others, their cautious steps and trembling blades. The large gnoll once again barked orders to his subordinates. He commanded them to close and end the battle quickly. None seemed eager to comply, but they crept forward, their ears flat against their doglike heads, growling menacingly. Amid their murmuring threats, Quin picked out the name Gyusk, apparently their leader, not well loved by some of the squad. Beyond the backs of the gnolls, Quin spied an ogre, patiently watching the spectacle. The giant effortlessly held a massive black glaive as he watched the battle over the heads of the gathered crowd.
The townsfolk shivered in the cold rain, eyes darting between their captors and the dark warrior who fought them, waiting for a chance to run away from both. The sight of Quinsareth’s fair skin, splattered with the gnolls’ blood, and his intensely opalescent eyes, like the gaze of a dead man, was monstrous and horrifying. The captives waited breathlessly, as yet unsure of who was the savior and who the villain in the unfolding scenario.
Quin was certain of the villain, but had no taste for the title of savior. These people could have been dead, and he still would have fought. It was a rare day that his brand of justice saved the living. He flashed a feral grin at the gnolls’ commander and charged recklessly. Bedlam led the advance, humming and flashing brightly, accompanying the lightning overhead.
The gnolls closed swiftly and he reached the center of the group, dodging and tumbling past clumsy attacks. Those attacks were made clumsier by freezing hands and shadow-born fear. Quinsareth quickly parried two blades that came close and rolled into a somersault to leap at the center gnoll. The beast yelped and tried to avoid the madman, but Bedlam sliced through the gnoll’s shoulder and bit deep into its collarbone. Quinsareth used the bone as a fulcrum in a tumbling jump. Flipping over the screaming gnoll’s head, he landed in front of the startled but ready Gyusk.
They exchanged quick blows, blades ringing in a blur of steel and rage. Behind Quin, the other gnolls turned to catch up to the ghostwalker. Quinsareth pushed Gyusk’s blade back just enough to land a kick into the gnoll commander’s jaw. Gyusk
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