[indent][quote][i] ...I tell thee true that I beheld the earth open as if twere a gate into the Stygian underworld, and from that fell and damnable portal of swirlinge sands emergede devils of a lyke I had not yet dreamede. Black as the wytching hour they stood, girded with great, bladed arms like a farmer's scythe, and theyre sere yellow eyes burned evilly with foule intente. Thee foremost amongste them bore a terrible scepter, thee colore of the pitch that no doubt pumped through its repulsive hearte. Of their purpose or origine we knew not. But in the upheavals of the earthe around us, we saw their marke. Retreat was ordered and this was as the reader will knowe tactically prudent as we were few and faced an unknowne enemy. Our duty -- MY duty -- muste be to protecte thee King at all cost. [/i][/quote][/indent] A scarlet drop spattered onto the page, a sanguine punctuation mark, slowly soaking into the parchment. The knight frowned, brought the scarred back of his hand to what remained of his nose. It came away ruddy and wet. He wiped it away, refreshing his quill. [indent][quote][i]Yet swiftly Captaine Serona was sore beset by two of thee beastes, and verily my hearte ached to leap to his aid, for I saw at once that thee beastes were fierce and alife with malice when roused. Though there be little love between us in that houre, I will admonish thee that it was of no matter as thou shouldst knowe. For he was my brother in arms, and this is a bond that cannot be broken by hard words spoken in wroth, and did duty not make higher demandes of me upon that day, I would gladly have laid down my lyfe despite his mediocrity as a leader and his recurringe weaknesse as a man. I saw thee one fiende, that whiche wielded a terrible black rod, as a threate which must be purged. Whether it be thee director of these evile gargoyles, or a foule inhuman mage, I felt we woulde have no safety or pease so longe as it lived. I made my choice. Maye God judge me fairly when thee hour comes.[/i][/quote][/indent] [hr] The kite shield was on Kolbe's arm almost at once, a smaller, weighted mace lined with brutal ridges in his other hand. He kept himself between the creatures and the King, circling left and right. "The horse!" he bellowed raggedly from beneath the returned helm, "Sire! Mount and fall back!" He was running before he even looked back, shield held at the ready. But not toward the frantic Mr. Hooves. No. He was charging with burning purpose toward the indifferent creature with its dark rod. It stared blankly, clicking its indecipherable devil's tongue. It watched him impassively as more of the creatures heaved themselves from the shifting sands, lurching into his path. Black blades thunked against his shield, a sickening, skittering thud rattling the bones along his arm as he slammed into the creature, forced it back and over, driving it toppling hard into its fellow. One long appendage hooked over the rim as the thing tried to pull itself up, its lower body writhing with tiny limbs like a wriggling nightmare beneath an overturned rock. Kolbe's solleret came down heavy and hard, cracking through chitin and stomping twice into the thing's rancid underbelly, a fountain of gushing ichors staining steel and sand in thick, nauseating resin. The second creature slashed and shrieked, hammering shield and armor. Flailing. Gouging. [i]"Areta!"[/i] came the hoarse scream in response, [i]"Areta and vas Aretaeus!"[/i] The cry echoed for leagues, afire with conviction and zeal. The mace swung upward, connecting with clacking black mandibles, time slowing in his mind as the creature was knocked into a backward sommersault. A sickening arc of fluid gouted a semicircle from the impacted crater that once served as the beast's wretched face. Kolbe felt a warm sensation along his right side that he knew could only be blood. He clutched at it. A chance blow. Chainmail fell ragged from his shoulder from where the thing's horrid hand had sheared it through. [i]"Careless."[/i] He hissed, pushing himself onward. His quarry was withdrawing, indifferent to him, seeking what higher ground still remained. Kolbe smashed another of the creatures aside with the flat of his shield, forced his way through the thickening crush of gleaming black bodies pouring from the abyss -- seized the thing's lowest leg with his shieldarm and with a dry roar he [i]heaved[/i]. The monster's limbs struggled for puchase in the hard earth, determined to make its way to the lip of the canyon. There was a slow, cthonic groaning. Plate and carapace fell in a hiss and roar as the ridge fell away and the beast was dragged from the wall in a full-fledged landslide, a heavy cascade of hot sand and rocky debris that crumbled down into the canyon and the open pit, half-burying Kolbe and the creature under a fist of earth and sending unnumbered arachnoid reinforcements scattering like acorns and tumbling back down into darkness. The world spun. Kolbe's mace was lost, the kite shield torn from his arm and half buried in a swirl of red and gold dirt. Breath burned in his lungs, winded. Vision darkening. No. No surrender. No respite. No sleep. Fulfill the oath. Get up. Get up. [i]Get up.[/i] Sand poured from ichor-drenched mail, caking against the viscous fluid as he heaved himself to his feet, staggered, fell in a metallic heap atop the fallen thing, the leader. It flailed beneath him, half-trapped by the landslide. [i]Oh, but you see me now, spawn of Sothis. Now you see me in truth-- [/i] "Gerald of Antour--" Kolbe felt his fist go numb to the elbow as it pounded into the creature's eye like an iron hammer, crushing carapace and bursting flesh. The golden orb pulped, spattered against Kolbe's mailed knuckles as he struck again, again, again, one leaden punch after another slamming into the creature's onyx skull and ringing across the warped valley. [i]"Konrad Falkenberg--"[/i] Blow after blow, slower, deeper each time, shoving the creature further down into the sandy mire. His ears rang, muscles aching with shock and strain. It took him a moment to realize he was now landing blows upon muddy sand. The monster's head was a gory stain in a deep hole. One dark appendage wavered slowly in the dirt, like the leg of a crushed roach. Enough. Enough, now. He felt himself drag the shield free, something clutched in his other hand. Something black and glistening. He loped back toward the horses as the horizon continued to warp and change, hurrying toward whatever aid he might still give Serona, and the man to whom he had sworn all loyalty, to death and beyond.