The Marquis' eyes flick open. He groans. He lifts his hands, grabbing at the naked blade thrust into his sternum.Brock Marsh Runoff wrote:SEARCHERS
Renn flicks the ichor from his blades and cranes his head toward the oncoming noise of the enemy. "Let's get the hell out of here while we can! Should we leave our unconscious friend with a torch or two to play with? Might keep him from regenerating, and the smoke may aid our escape..."
Nyisiendre shoves harder. The steel sinks inches deeper into the Marquis. He screams loud enough to deafen the bard and those standing nearby, shaking the floor under their feet.
Somewhere over the agonized wail, steel grates on stone.
And then everything falls silent for a moment. Everyone's hair stands on end as Saint Elmo's fire dances along the bard's sword and all other exposed steel within a spear thrust of the fallen Marquis.
Lightning erupts from the elf-demon's mouth and washes over the bard.
Thunder rips through the underground city. Rock chunks fall from far above, splintering on the floor.
The sudden blast of power grabs the bard and holds her in place. She cannot even let go her grip on the hilt; but she can scream.
The Orogs take up the elf maid's scream. Hundreds of them, all screaming and squealing and grunting at once.
They clash their weapons over their heads, capering about the weird cityscape. Now they have come so close that Cormac and the others without night vision get a disturbingly good look at the monsters. Some of the creatures hack down their fellow Orogs. The berserkers climb on the fallen ones and begin to violate the corpses in unspeakable fashion.