The thing squirmed uncannily and fastened on Ingar’s arm. “Fuck fuck fuck!”
Torstag tried for a Wrath Strike, but being seated seemed to make that impossible. Instead he screamed and hacked at it while the desert floor rushed past below.
Result = 7 (Performance) +2 (Boldness) +1 (Luck) +2 (Target Immobile) -2 (“Disquieted”) -6 (Enemy Challenge) = 4.
Damage = 4 -3 (Armour) = 1.
The blade struck above the thing just above the ear, sank in an inch.
With a scream, Brother Neutrality’s flaming skull recoiled. It unwound its tongue and latched onto the wickerwork. Now the flames billowed along the underside of wings. The trapped shades of the Tomb Bat howled in agony.
“Oh shit,” yelled Ingar. “Do something!”
Still obediently following the thread, the burning Tomb Bat was about to plough into the badlands, specifically into a little group of figures that seemed to be dancing in the mouth of a canyon with a silvery brook running through its bottom.
A hand clutched Torstag’s heart.
Not dancing, fighting.
Performing Warlord at Level 5.
Suddenly the situation made sense.
A tall woman—the girl—whirled a staff to hold off a dozen attackers…not attackers, hunters. Most of them carried cudgels, but relied on their big round shields for defence as they worked to hem in the Girl while a mailed man with a net tried to get into position to capture her.
The staff flicked out. A hunter spun out of the fight, dropped their shield and splashed face-first into the stream.
“Fuck!” said Ingar. “Don’t land in the middle of that.”
The Screaming Skull emitted an appalling wail.
The attackers turned to look.
The Girl took advantage of the distraction, broke through the cordon of shield-bearers and ran toward the open where—bizarrely—a sword stood stuck in the ground.
Her enemies remembered themselves and sprinted in pursuit. Steel armour flashed in the desert sun as a second armoured man strode along behind the line of hunters, waving some kind of staff weapon to urge them on. The man with the net unslung a bow from his back; if she got too far they would wing her rather than let her escape. Presumably that was why she had not try to climb the canyon walls.
The burning Tomb Bat lurched, dropped fifty feet, skidded into the ground. Timber crashed. Captive shades screamed,
Torstag tumbled clear. He lost his grip on his long knife.
Form 5. You are Agile.
Performing Crash Survival at Level 5.
Crash Result = 10 (Challenge) +1 (Luck) -5 (Performance) = 6.
Torstag glimpsed the girl skipping out of the way, then he somersaulted.
He landed on his back, his right let bent under him, the breath knocked from his lungs.
Gasping, he tried to sit up, found his right arm wasn’t working. Pain spiked his spine. The world spun.
Crash Result = 6 Slam.
Slam Effect = “Knocked Sprawling” (4 points) +2 Vitality loss.
You have Disadvantage “Knocked Sprawling.”
Toughness 2 overcome. You have Hindrance “Stunned”. Form 0. No Feats available.
Vitality -1 of 4.
You have Hindrance “Debilitated.”
Torstag put his weight on his left hand. His tendons blazed—he’d done something to his left arm. He rolled onto his knees.
The Screaming Skull bounded towards him, bringing with it the reek of burned meat.
Somehow Torstag got onto his feet. He looked around for his war knife, instead spotted the sword.
The width of its crossguard suggested it was a long-bladed greatsword. The weapon was still stuck down in the dirt, too far away to reach.
His left ankle collapsed under him. He started to fall.
The girl sprinted across his field of view.
“Idiot!”
She flicked her staff, caught the sword’s crossguard, flipped it into the air. The blade flashing in the harsh sun, the weapon cartwheeled toward Torstag.
Torstag reached for it, feeling as if his left arm were wrapped in wet carpet.
Current Form 0.
Performing Warrior at Level 2.
Result = 2 (Performance) -3 (“Stunned”, “Debilitated”) -1 (Luck) -4 (Challenge) = -6
Sword is “Undroppable”.
Effect = Good Catch.
The grip smacked into his palm. He closed his fingers and felt home.
Peacebringer (Undroppable), the Greatsword of Berotspan the Marshal.
Relic of Past Avatar.
Surge.
Chapter 23: Peacebringer
The sharkskin sword grip was warm in the hand.
For an instant, Torstag’s muscles relaxed. Then dead memories whirled out to envelop him in blood and battles and mayhem and a crinkle-eyed lady with perspiration beading her sand-brown skin and a voice that wanted to be louder.
The surge took him.
8 points of Advancement available.
Warrior Hurl 4/6 secured. 6 Points remaining.
Rampage 4/6 secured. 4 Points remaining.
Select a 9th Feat to study.
Once again, the Warrior Tree unrolled, only now each figure wielded a greatsword.
Torstag’s eye fell on Wrath Strike. He could select it for a third time, make it even more decisive, as illustrated by a swordsman cheerfully carving diagonal chunks out of a variety of targets, human, animal and Gods-knew-what.
Wrath Strike+2 unlocked at 2/6 Grasp.
Wrath Strike+2 advanced to 6/6 Grasp and Secured.
No points remaining.
You have secured a 6th Warrior Feat. Warrior Level 3 secured. You have 6 Warrior Feats. 10 Feats required to secure level 4.
Warrior Level 3 is your highest ranked Vocation. You have levelled up.
Select a Proficiency.
Damn. If he had not already been surging, he could have had an extra surge out of levelling up.
Select a Proficiency.
I can take a hint.
He picked the one that covered everything from long-handled bastard sword through to man-sized double-hander, in short any sword wielded in two hands.
Longsword!
The map faded and he became aware of the warm-handled greatsword.
Peacebringer, Enchanted Greatsword, Undroppable.
Warrior Level 3 unlocks a feat. Select from Cleave Armour, Smite Undead, Shear Magic, Parry Arrows.
Smite Undead.
Smite Undead unlocked. Next feat unlocks at Warrior Level 4.
Red hot fingers pushed through Torstag’s flesh. They yanked at his injured arm and leg, stretching him. They punched his spine, setting it ablaze. They pinched the edges of his cheek wound, suturing it with liquid fire.
He screamed.
Wounds nullified. Vitality reset and enhanced to 5.
Potestas reset, enhanced to 5 and boosted.
You are: Torstag, Human Warlock, Youth, Agile, Empathic, Bold, Marked.
Potestas 10/5. Will 2.
Vitality 5. Toughness 2.
Vocations:
Warrior 3 (Sidearm, Shield, Brawling, Longsword): Wrath Strike +2, Split Shield, Disarm, Twitch, Rampage, Hurl, Onset Thrust 3/6.
Warlord 0: Tea Drinking 2/6.
Scout 2 (Mountain, Forest, Jungle): Climb +1, Spider Climb, Stalk.
Necromancer 1 (Cantrips): Repel Shade, Shade Cloak 3/6, Manifest Shade 4/6
Various General Skills including Meditate.
Form 5.
Torstag raised the greatsword high.
Screaming Flame Skull of Implacable Vengeance. Hostile. On Fire.
Brother Neutrality’s burning head bounced toward him, kicking up the dust, trailing smoke. It landed just short of him, then arced up toward his throat.
He brought the sword back down in a diagonal cut, putting his whole body into the strike. “Hah!”
Bold Attack.
Using Wrath Strike +2, cost 1. 9 of 5 Potestas remaining.
> The sword caught Brother Neutrality’s head above the ear—
Using Sword Feat Smite Undead. Cost 1 Potestas. 5 Potestas Remaining.
—sheared clean through the eye and the jaw on the other side.
Result = 7 (Performance) +2 (Boldness) +1 (Luck) -6 (Enemy Challenge) = 4.
Effect = 4 +4 (Feat) +4 (Smite Undead) +2 (Greatsword) -3 (Natural Armour) = 11.
Target destroyed.
The Screaming Skull split diagonally into two halves. Burning brains scattered like embers across the rocky ground.
Torstag kicked the top half of the skull. “That’s for…”
Everything. A thousand moments of cruelty not just to Torstag, but to his friend…
“Ingar?”
Heart pounding, Torstag squinted against the sun. A shock of red hair caught his eye.
Ingar lay to the west, sprawled face down on the ground a few paces from the still smouldering Tomb Bat.
“Ingar!”
Ingar drew in his arms, tried to lift his head.
Torstag took a pace toward him.
The Girl cried, “Yah!”
Torstag turned in time to see her whirl through the hunters, smacking shields. She escaped the canyon mouth, skipped over the brook and sprinted south, to his right.
Nine hunters jogged after her: seven fast moving club and shield fighters in padded jacks, and two more heavily-armoured men bringing up the rear.
The girl reached a rock plug twice her height and simply went up the side as if this were her normal way of getting about.
She was playing for time, realised Torstag. She needed his help.
How am I doing?
Current Form 5.
Warrior Level 3.
Performing Warrior at Level 8.
9 of 5 Potestas remaining.
Warrior 3: (Sidearm, Shield, Brawling, Longsword): Wrath Strike +2, Split Shield, Disarm, Twitch, Rampage, Hurl.
As if reading his mind, the armoured pair turned his way. One wore mail with an open faced helmet.
Medium Armour, 2. Net. Sword. Dagger. Bow.
The other wore full cataphract armour, and brandished an odd weapon that looked like a barbed pitchfork. A greatsword hung from his belt.
Heavy Armour, 3. Knife. Greatsword. Thief Catcher.
So that was what it was!
Torstag raised Peacebringer above his head. He bent his knees, settled into a stance that seemed right.
A cold part of his mind sized up the enemy, wondered how long it would take to secure those two additional feats to get to 4th level and what Sword Feats might be on offer.
“Run away, boy!” said Thief Catcher, his visor making his voice come out oddly muffled. He advanced on Torstag, banging the iron shod butt on the stone for emphasis. Windblown sand hissed across his armour. Its burnished plates flashed sunlight with every pace. “This woman belongs to Gronchard the Flayer.”
The blood rushed in Torstag’s ears. He opened his mouth to say something clever and heroic, but only managed, “Go to Hell.”
“Fucking warlocks,” said Net Man. “How old is he? Twelve? Shit.” He reached over his shoulder to unsling his bow.
Should Torstag run? He would be an easy target. Charge against two seasoned fighters? That seemed a bad option.
Net Man nocked an arrow and all choice was gone.
Time seemed to slow down and Torstag knew he must sidestep sharply then charge.
Net Man drew back the arrow.
The bow stave creaked, snapped. One limb clanged on the man’s helmet. “Fuck!” He let the bow drop and cast away the arrow. “Fucking warlocks,” he repeated. He bellowed. “Axe Girl! Deal with this piece of shit!”
There was a flurry of movement off right.
Torstag stole a glance.
The girl was at bay on the stone platform, tossing stones down at the hunters. However, only a half dozen remained. Two were recrossing the brook back in Torstag’s direction.
Club and shield. Light armour.
Club and shield. Light armour.
You are “Outnumbered”.
The armoured leaders had already turned their attention to the girl, leaving Torstag to the new pair.
The women approaching on the left had to be “Axe Girl”. She had been pretty once, perhaps, but now she was terrifying. It wasn’t the scars or the way she had an axe slung on her back so the head was positioned like a trained parrot. It was the look of shear glee on her face.
The man on the right had a ridiculous red codpiece, more of a hat for the privates than a modesty garment; intended as misdirection, perhaps.
Ingar’s voice cut through the sound of the wind. “Torstag, behind you!”
“Kid, no!” cried Axe Girl.
Torstag spun, bringing his raised fists forward so they shielded his eyes from the sun.
A youth—younger than Torstag, practically a boy—was lunging in with a dagger extended, his long hair whipping in the wind. “Gotcha!”
Dagger. Light armour. Attacking Boldly.
You have Disadvantage “Outmanoeuvred”.
Greatsword against Dagger has Advantage “First Strike” during Onset.
First Strike cancels “Outmanoeuvred.”
And Torstag…remembered.
Screaming, he pivoted back and slashed Peacebringer diagonally into the space he’d just left, putting everything into the cut.
Bold counter-attack cancels Bold attack.
The boy yelped, “Oh shit!” He tried to veer away while meeting the greatsword with the cross of his dagger.
He was blurringly fast.
Using Wrath Strike+2, cost 1 Potestas. 8 of 5 Potestas Remaining.
Result = 8 (Performance) + 1 (Luck) -2 (Enemy Challenge) = 7.
Armour 1 Negated.
Enchanted Greatsword negates Enchanted Shirt.
Effect = 7 +4 (Feat) +2 (Greatsword) = 13
Peacebringer bypassed the dagger, cracked into the boy’s shoulder, passed through his quilted armour, his rib cage, came out in a spray of blood and gore.
Head, shoulder and arm fell away. Lungs glistened in the desert sun. Exposed bones shone a bloodied white.
“Damn!” Torstag had wasted Potestas on a Feat he had not needed to use.
What was left of the boy toppled onto the rocky ground, spilling offal like a broken canopic jar.
Somebody wailed, “Kid!”
Torstag temples seemed to clamp. He had cut down what was little more than a child, and there he was calculating the opportunities it had cost him. Were warlocks monsters that deserved to be locked up in places like the Monastery, after all?
A woman screamed in anguish. Wood resounded on the rocky ground.
Torstag turned, raised his sword.
Net Man bellowed, “Catch her you fuckers!”
The girl appeared from nowhere, whirling her staff. She smacked Red Codpiece’s shield.
Codpiece skipped backwards to avoid her strokes, yelling, “Alice! No! Alice it’s a warlock. No! I love you! No! Oof!”
The staff caught him in the belly and he went down.
The girl skipped over the prone man and sprinted away, across the gulley mouth, heading for the broken ground to the north.
Once again, the hunters jogged after her, Thief Catcher and Net Man bringing up the rear.
One hunter stayed behind.
The thud of wood had been Axe Girl—Alice?—dropping her shield and club. The tide of the fight had left Torstag alone with her. She already had her axe unslung and cradled in both hands.
Tears ran down her wrinkled cheeks but her eyes were cold. “He was just a boy. You fucking murdered him. You didn’t even have to learn how to use your sword. Somebody else did the work and you just remembered.”
That was…That was unfair. But what words would he say?
Blood trickled down Peacebringer’s raised blade, dripped onto Torstag’s fingers. The boy’s blood.
Current Form 5. Performing Warlord at Level 5.
Unlock War
lord, Confront?
No! Torstag wasn’t going to waste Potestas on an unmastered Feat. Warlord would have to do on its own.
“A boy with a dagger who died well,” said Torstag. “If you mourn him, tend to his corpse. We have no further quarrel.”
Result = 5 (Performance) +1 (Luck) -4 (Challenge) -10 (“You just killed her beloved nephew”) = -8, Aggressive Proactive Hostile Response.
“Alice! No!” yelled Red Codpiece, now unsteadily on his feet.
Axe Girl ignored him. “Fucking Warlocks! Trophimus was right. Let’s see how you do with an adult.”
War Axe. Light Armour.
Greatsword and War Axe are matched in the Onset.
Torstag edged closer. “Yes, let’s find out.” How could he sound so calm?
Axe Girl’s eyes dilated little, as if she were spreading her focus. She spun the axe like a juggler; left, right and back. She grinned through her tears. “Come on then, boy, where’s the opening? Round and round the axe goes, where she lands nobody knows…”
The movement tugged Torstag’s gaze with it. When was the right moment to attack?
Enemy using Flourish.
Test of Potestas, 8. Form Maintained.
That was nice, but he still didn’t feel like getting any closer without his own edge.
The Jungle Tomb of the Ice Queen (The Flying Tooth Garden Book 1) Page 16
