Chalner Grek, a huge bear of a man, also known as, "the Ogre" for his disgusting habit of taking a piece of his kills home with him, lounged comfortably in his chair. His heavy crossbow was across his lap as always and his bastard sword rested within grabbing distance on the table. For all the armament, he expected no trouble today except for the occasional rowdy who would be no problem for his hard bitten crew.
The Hazia house was busy as usual, the basement was full of the noise of Hazia processing, the first floor was full of "Hazies" and the upper floors were both a sort of barracks for a dozen or so members of the Brotherhood and a small army of harlots catering to any peculiar taste required. It was all tax free and very illegal, but the Lunars turned a blind eye, hells, half the customers these days were Lunars! Plus the Brotherhood had some friends in high places through them weird Krarshti guys that the Blackfang himself seemed to get on with so well.
Grek wasn't too sure about that kind of ally but they always delivered and when they said they was going to hit somebody, they surely did! Grek respected that. He also respected the orders of the Blackfang, the new leader of the Brotherhood was a faceless but frightening presence. To anger him was to die.
Chalner Grek yawned and stretched contentedly, he was boss of this operation and he loved it. He had all the women, drink and Hazia he wanted and even the "oh-so-mighty" Lunars had to toady up to him to get a piece of the action. With them under his belt, nothing could go wrong. Why he was virtually part of the establishment!
He grinned widely, showing his filed teeth. As he looked idly round the room, he noticed Franek, todays door guard, look through the peep-hole in the bronze bound front door. Obviously someone had knocked. Franek spoke for a second then shook his head. He started to shout angrily. Someone was obviously causing trouble outside. Grek wasn't concerned but waved to a couple of men on the balcony to move to cover the door anyway. Both had heavy crossbows.
Franek was starting to reach for the peep-hole cover, when he suddenly screamed in agony and his hands rose claw-like to his ears. Blood spurted betwwen his convulsing fingers. As he turned Grek saw that his eyes were bleeding and his wailing mouth was full of steaming red blood.
Franek, all six foot six inches of him, crashed to the floor, lifeless.feet, pushing over a table, dislodging a Hazie who squawked unheard at the rough treatment. The two men on the balcony were joined by another man from the landing guard position. The four other men in the first floor came out from their various rooms. One shouted alarm to the crew in the basement.
"By the Hells! Cover the bloody door!" Bellowed Grek. He lept to his
For a few seconds there was silence. Even the dozen or more Hazies kept their mouths shut.
Then the door exploded inwards in pieces as if smashed by a giant fist. The air filled with wooddust from the flinders but Grek could soon make out a very big block of stone lying amid the wreakage. The only thing he could think of that could propel a boulder that large, at that speed was an Onager. If someone out there had a catapult, they were in big trouble. Still, it was is place and he'd damn well make a stand.
The dust settled to reveal a Crimson-robed figure standing calmly in the entrance way. He shimmered with power and the Iron sword in his hands sparked as he held it idly in a loose grip.
The man spoke in a rich melodious voice, powerful and commanding: "Surrender to the authorities for your crimes or pay the price." He intoned.
Grek looked at the lone man and tried to see around him but couldn't spot any Lunar hoplites backing him up. His decision took no thought whatsoever. "You're crazy Lunar and you're going to die. If you want us yer going to have to carry us out feet first!" He roared. His men joined him in shouting their defiance.
The Crimson man smirked and semi-bowed. "I was hoping you'd say that." He said. He started to walk forward, the air around him began to swirl in a heavy shimmer, like heat distorting the air, till he became a difficult target.
"Open fire!" Yelled Grek and they did.
Three men on the balcony and five on the first floor, except Grek who
held back, fired their crossbows as one. Each bolt simmered throught the air as
each had cast Speedart on release.
They all flew into the advancing swirl, Greks men were damn good shots but they all felt a twinge of dismay as the bolts seemed to rebound from the air around the invader or skittered off harmlessly from his shifting image.
In retaliation a mailed fist was raised, energy released and one of Greks men collapsed, his eyes rolled up into his head as he drooled on the floor. Another shrieked in fear and ran for his life.
"Get him!" Grek fired his bolt, after carefully aiming. He didn't
bother to look to see if it had an effect. Then he picked up his sword and led
a charge across the room with the three men left upright in the first floor.
They were joined by five more men from the basement who came out with blades and
magics ready.
As they ran into range, the fireplace suddenly exploded behind them as a living snake of fire leapt out onto one of the basement crew. He screamed in pain and swiped ineffectually at the burning thing that seared his flesh.
From the swirling figure, ghastly faced phantasmic shapes of spiritual essence flew out to attack two of his men. The stopped in their tracks as their very souls battle to survive.
Grek was third into range of the Red Priest, for surely thats what he was, in time to see his two best men die. The first launched an immense two-handed hack that would spilt anybody in two but it was almost negligently deflected by the light touch of that glowing blade. The return stroke seemed slow and light yet it removed his man's head like a hot blade though butter. The corpse staggered on a couple of steps, fountaining blood up to the ceiling in a crimson spray, till it joined its head on the floor.
The other man feinted well as he went in and landed a heavy stroke which hit something a solid as granite. His hand went numb from the impact and it was all he could do to keep his sword. Then the glowing silver gauntlet reached out and took hold of his face. It closed with a jerk, pulping him from brow to chin. He didn't scream, just gurgled.
Grek pulled up short and started to backpedal, miraculously parrying a blow that cut his sword in two and tore a whole in his chain armour and the shoulder beneath. He couldn't believe the strength of the attack, it stunned and demoralised him.
Three more men joined him, one falling immediately as his head almost burst from the same magic that had taken down Franek. Another was boned by a thrust that went right through him to the hilt.
The last man turned and fled. Grek thought this was a splendid idea but to cover their retreat he usedhis Shatter spell, backed by as much energy as he could spare, leaving him with just enough to remain conscious. If it worked, hopefully he'd need no more magics anyway and he could put of healing his shoulder till later.
He released the deadly magic like an arrow, its black lightning bolt tore throught the air and blasted into his enemy as he flicked the dead man off his sword. Greks grin of delight dissappeared as the bolt hit perfectly then rebounded like a ball from a wall.
It came straight back at him.through the guards there and quite a few Hazies. Deville directed the frothing Axeman to the basement while he blasted the men and harlots trying to escape down the stairs past him with combined disruptions.
"Oh shit." He whispered just before his head exploded.
Deville rammed his blade through the men fighting his Wraiths and ordered the Salamander to set fire to the building. Hrothmir smashed through from the back where he had butchered his way
Men and women exploded into misty blood clouds at his glance and only the fact that the entire upper floor was on fire kept them coming. Even that didn't last long as Hrothmir came back up the stairs from the basement, breathing heavily, splattered with gore, Deville decided it was time to leave the building.
Outside a large detatchment of the Marble Phalanx had assembled and were on the verge of going in to the flaming building when Deville and Hrothmir came out. Their Skin of Life had protected them from the smoke and their magical protections had kept them unharmed, even in that intense heat.
Deville found the Centurion. The man saluted but found it difficult to hide the look of horror on his face. The normally immaculate Deville looked like a man who'd gone bathing in an abattoir.
"Centurion, you will kill anyone who trys to escape the building, arrows
should do it."
"What about prisioners sir?"
"No prisioners. They had their chance to surrender." Deville grinned
like a demon throught the bloody maks of his face. "Crime doesn't pay
Centurion. Thats why I'm here; to make sure nobody forgets that."
"I think you've made that point admirably sir."
"Really.......? I haven't even started yet." Deville turned to view the
scene.
Firefighters battled the blaze to try and stop its spread while the pitiful wretches who tried to escape the building were shot down with missile fire on the orders of Morthander Deville, instrument of Justice and the Law for the Lunar Empire.
Martin Laurie (Part 5 to follow)
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