The Sword of Eitri
By: Adam Janus
Still singing, the berserking human hacked his way through enemies to come to a farmer’s aid, the farmer was holding his own against two rhex with just a lumber jack’s axe. Odar leaped over the first reptiles long tail and with a downward chop, severed its spine midway up its ridged back. He barely dislodged his axe in time to take a backhand swipe at the second creature, grazing its head. It dove in low, clamping its powerful jaw around the Rath Commander’s calf; yellow teeth penetrated steel grieves and sunk into his flesh, grinding off the bones of his leg.
Clenching his teeth against the pain, Odar firmly planted his feet as the creature attempted to shake its head and roll, a move that would have ripped his leg from his body. He reversed the grip on his axe, bringing its spiked top down on the lizards head, pushing the spike through the monsters brain, killing it instantly.
Fully in the grips of battle madness, Odar Mackai roared to the heavens, and sought out another foe.
While hand to hand combat raged in the compound, the archers were shooting flaming quarrels into the advancing hordes, igniting pitch soaked bales of hay arrayed in the field. Raggan Dubh stood among them, enhancing their flaring arrows with his clean, earthy magic, while throwing his own sorcerous bolts of fire and energy into the enemy ranks from the tip of his oaken staff. Many elves, engulfed in flames, ran screaming toward the forest, igniting others and setting the dry grass and fields ablaze.
Pausing to take a breath, Raggan felt the warlocks red eyes burning into him, and despite the heat, he felt a chill crawl over his sweat soaked body. Gazing out across the flaming fields, through the thick, black smoke, Raggan saw the elf calmly raise his sword and point it in his direction. The warlock’s voice boomed unnaturally over the din of battle in a prayer to Set, the jackal headed god of war, storms, famine and all things evil. Dark, unclean magic rolled over the burning field and washed over the druid like a hot wave.
“Nooo!” screamed Raggan in anguish. His voice trailed off to a wet gurgle as he was engulfed in unbearable, searing heat. His skin turned bright red and blistery, as his eyes melted from their sockets and his flesh ran off his bones. The archers backed away from the wizard, eyes wide with terror, many dropped their bows and crossbows and abandoned the wall. Raggan continued to melt until nothing was left, but a pool of molten flesh, cracked bones and singed hair inside his green robes.
Laughing and chittering to himself insanely, the warlock left the tree line. He walked directly through the burning fields, the roaring flames licking at his pelts, yet he passed through them unscathed. Picking his way through the charred corpses as if he was out for a leisurely stroll through a flowered pasture, the feral elf sorcerer made his way toward the blasted wall of Rath Aergar.
Odar Mackai, leg throbbing in pain and bleeding freely, continued to fight like a man possessed. His bloody weapon leaving hewed corpses all about him as his voice rose above the din, singing the battle song of his ancestors. Lizard men and feral elves alike scrambled to get away from the battle maddened berserker and his death dealing axe. He kept fighting long after the rest of his comrades had fallen, leaving him the sole remaining human.
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