From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Date: Sun, 8 Nov 1992 08:18:30 GMT Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [DQ] Week 13 Lancos: Battleground (Part 2) -- There's Only One Way Home >Lancos could feel his forces nearby lose confidence. They had been led by >the hero of the first attack. Now their closest thing to a leader was a man >who was lucky to survive the lesser strike. Lancos took stock, and decided to throw caution to the wind. If these troops were going to lose, it was going to be because his best attempt at leadership wasn't enough, and because he went down fighting. Lancos barked out some words of encouragement, and watched happily as the men regained some of their resolve. The evil knight eyed Lancos, as if marking him for his next opponent -- provided the latter got past the four orcs separating them. Lancos swerved his horse to the right. The orc adjusted, but too late -- there was an opening, and Lancos' scimitar pierced the gap quickly. Three. An elf rode up beside Lancos, causing an orc to back up and away. A small nod was all the thanks Lancos could give. Two. The orc ahead tried the same type of charging technique, but instead met Lancos' well-set blades, his charge serving only to heighten the blows' effectiveness. One. But fate suddenly shifted a bit, as the remaining orc's sword found its way into Lancos' chest, driving him back and seperating horse from rider. Lancos regained his footing in an instant, hugging low to the ground. The orc tried to run the fighter over, but Lancos blocked the blow from above, and swept at the worg's legs. The beast toppled, pinning its rider underneath, and allowing an easy kill. Zero. The knight advanced, an air of confidence in his movements. Lancos stood unmoving for a second, catching his breath and allowing the adrenalin that had been running through his veins to do further work. The knight's arrogance proved to hold substance, as his first strike found the green- clothed man's right leg. The knight gleemed a smile as he bore down on Lancos. Lancos rose, and performed a bit of trickery, blocking the next blow with his scimitar and successfully slashing into his opponent's waist with his short sword. The smile disappeared from his foe's visage, replaced with grim determination. The battle became neutral for a period, neither man finding a hole. Lancos blocked out the screams of the dying through necessity -- concentration was essential. Suddenly, and opening appeared, when the knight aimed high. But when the attack proved to be a feint, both men raked each other in the chest, causing each to stagger away. The knight spat out some blood, and Lancos took the opportunity to draw his bow. The knight approached, and shots were fired at point blank range. The man attempted to turn away, but the arrows hit his right shoulder, one sticking in and the other bouncing off -- into the head(!), around the upper neck. The blows caused some unplanned reversal, and Lancos relaxed momentarily, storing the bow and grabbing his more familiar weapons. Then the knight charged, in a rather berserk manner. Lancos caught the first blow with a raised elbow, a move that literally save his neck. The blows continued fast and furious, but Lancos was a survivor, as he eventually adjusted to them. Finally, the move could be made from pure defense to partial offense. The options available were numerous, but Lancos made his chance count: he plunged his scimitar into the previously-created gap in the armor's chest. The attacks stopped, and Lancos watched as his foe's eyes rolled up, and he immediately dropped. * * * * Out in the real world, the Dark Master scowled. <> "Too bad -- I thought I had found another servant. But this memory hasn't been what I expected..." <> <> <> <> "Very well then." <> "You better be right..." * * * * There was a loud cheer from his side, as the victory caused the orc-riders to rout, insuring they could be easily handled. Soon that threat was ended, and the cavalry rode off to the wall, having enough enthusiasm that a leader was unnecessary -- at least temporarily. Lancos removed the weapon from the body. It was smeared red with blood. All that is, except for the tip -- that was blackened. Heart's blood, he realized, and in fact could now see it flow out of the wound. Lancos might have vomitted, had there been anything "available"; might have passed out, if that act wouldn't insure his death. Instead, he slowly made his way to the tunnels -- the safer route back by far -- along with others who had lost their mounts but survived. Lancos watched the battle unfold. The enemies had broken into chaos, quickly losing but also causing massive damage. Wall was destroyed regardless of who controlled it. Orcs refused to climb ladders, fleeing if possible. Hobgoblins charged everywhere mindlessly, setting fire to buildings and... and worse yet, heading for the woods Lancos had just entered. He ran towards the tunnel, several forms behind him. "Go!...go!...go!" Lancos shouted, ushering the others in as quickly as possible. But not quickly enough -- hobgoblins were upon him. Lancos resigned himself to defense. He waylaid his first opponent, but received a wound in his left lef for his troubles. The wound visibly weakened him, loosening his grip on the weapons. >'No!' Lancos thought to himself. 'Sure, this battle has worn you down, but >that's no excuse to almost drop your weapon! Keep focused, dammit!'. All this >occurring in the second or so he had to regroup before another opponent >reached him. [ADMIN; This passage was a memory from Lancos' first encounter with the PCD. Sort of shows how my idea of a memory has changed...] But words weren't enough -- Lancos inwardly realized he would falter soon. Then Lancos heard some strange words behind him, and a ring of fire surrounded the area, burning all the enemy nearby. "C'mon, get going!" the mage who performed the spell cried. Lancos complied. "I was just wondering who's side you were on -- that fire won't exactly help the situation." he said, slowly crawling. "Hey, I only saved your life!" "Yeah, sort of makes up for you trying to find evil on me when we first met." "Humph! The only way I can accept that comment is to take it as a compliment!" Lancos didn't pay attention to the words, his mind elsewhere. Foremost was the recent scrapes he'd been through. If this was to continue, he might have to wear that medallion the mage said would serve as protection of sorts. Lancos didn't trust it -- for unknown reasons -- but he also couldn't trust his luck to hold out. They reached the make-shift hospital at the end of the tunnel. It was abuzz with activity, as might be expected. Lancos scowled, wanting to get back out to the battle. But a nurse stopped his progress. "Sit down, impatient one -- it's obvious you need care. Why not tell of your battle exploits in the meanwhile?" Lancos complied giving a full, unembellished account. The crowd gave a rather high opinion of Lancos' actions. A high-ranking noble was notably happy about them. "C'mon, Hero," the man said, patting Lancos on the shoulder. "Let's finish these off!" 'Hero.' Lancos debated his deservedness of the word, but could not deny the meaning behind it. It meant that he had finally found a place to call home again. His visage could not express the inner joy that feeling produced. * * * * "Nice story, but is that all I get? I wished for the FIRST medallion memory!" <> <> Lord Raven cursed. Either the memory was hidden by unknown means, or someone had been playing with the PCD. Either way, the Dark Master didn't like being underinformed. He consoled himself with what he'd learned about Lancos. Answers would come. Maybe not soon, but eventually. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu