Chapter 1 Part 2

*OH Great,* I thought. *Damned bow sent out regular arrows to fight a daemonite.*

Slinging my bow over my shoulder, dropping its shielding in the process, I drew my twin long swords, Dmir and Dmar. Steeling myself for the obvious battle to come, I stood at the ready. Dmir would be my primary weapon and Dmar would double as deflection and sneak attack. Both were chattering something fierce, knowing that they have not been drawn in battle for such a very long time. They were my secondary line of defense should my magicks fail. I always did think it best to study the sword as well as the sorcery!

It was also clear to me now that I would have to rely on every ounce of strength that my condition would afford me. There is nothing less than my best effort and a lot of luck that would ever allow me to survive this battle. A demon-born daemonite would be able to not only take a lot of damage, but would be able to dish it out as well. It was there way, and the only one that would be sought even though this daemonite is a sword for hire.

The daemonite launched towards me with the fury born of its hellish birth, slashing with dagger-like talons, narrowly missing my chest and following this with its scorpion-sting tail which did not miss. It lodged itself deep in my thigh. A wicked smile spread across the twisted features of the daemonite. It was a smile that told me he knew some dark secret that he was bursting to share and it wouldn't be long before he dropped it.

"You poor fool", (yeah sometimes even the most devious of creatures can be as predictable as a toddler near sweets) the daemonite said in its rich baritone dripping with as much ichor as flows through its veins. "Do you not know that a daemonite's tail is poisonous? Do you not know that this poison is fatal in all demi-humans it touches? And I have just placed a lethal dosage within your body". Its laughter was enough to raise the hackles at the nape of my neck; however, I would show no other outward sign of my own fears. Not to this beast. Not in this lifetime.

"I know of your kind, beast. I am well versed in the laws of the underworld and its inhabitants, but it is obvious to me that you have never before met one such as I". Of course, this seemed enough of a boast to insure the daemonite's ire, but it was an understatement as far as I knew. The daemonite had never before encountered someone bearing my condition, and it showed in his mannerisms, as well as what he had said to me prior to this. ˜I can smell you elf". Those were its words. It does not know that for more than 1000 years I have not been just an elf. I have been sorcerer. Warrior. Thief.

And a vampire. Yeah. You guessed it. I am a vampire. I have hidden this fact from all but 3 of my best friends, using illusory magicks and alternative clothing. Johanish Slickfingers, Wofling, and my adoring wife all know. Of course, Johanish and my wife have been there since the beginning. Wolfling, I have kind of adopted along the way. He is more like my little brother than anything else.

I lunged forward, slicing upward with Dmir, his blade singing for the blood of an enemy, raging, "Poison! Is this the best you have got daemonite? A simple sting with venom? I have survived the long night, clawing and scraping my way back into the light of day. I have fought the very nature of the beast that I have become in order to watch as creatures such as you try to destroy the world around me". Dmir cut a gash the length of the beast's chest, spreading dark black ichor shooting over the cot, and consequently my unconscious friend as well. "I WILL NOT ALLOW IT ANY LONGER"!! My ears were met with the sound of the beast's scream of agony.

The conviction of my words alone were not enough to stagger the daemonite , but, along with a dual slash from both swords in my possession, were just what was in needed to do so. Strength surged through my arms, forcing the daemonite to take a closer look at the being facing it. It was this look, though, that would become its undoing. I gathered my strength, shifted my form just a little, letting my bestial nature show through and charged. Blow after vicious blow landed on the stammered daemonite taking its toll in the long run on both of us. It had been almost 200 years since I lost myself to the bestial side of my nature and I thought, at the back of my mind, about the last time I had. 200 years is but a blink of the eye to one of my kind. NO. Elven. My life is complicated enough without always thinking vampiric at every turn of the day. I lost myself the last time. It took Johanish nearly a year to bring me back from the brink. And as it was, my humanity suffered. I am not the same as I was then. Each time a vampire loses him-, or herself to the bestial side of their new found nature, their humanity suffers. They are less themselves and more the beast, which is where you find those going off the deep end and just killing for the ambient hell of it.

In the middle of my rampage, an explosion caused me to fly to the other side of the cell, temporarily stunning me (Dmar chuckling inside my mind and telling me to rely on the tools at hand before charging into things) and leaving only pieces of the daemonite left. It took mere moments for me to pull myself together and I instructed the boy to burn the pieces that lay scattered about the small room. This would not kill this particular kind of daemonite, but banish it from the prime material plane for the next 7 years or so, sending it back to the plane of hell which it came from. It is one of the laws of the underworld. Born in the underworld can only be killed by certain means, all other methods only tend to cause them to regenerate, building a burning hatred for the person that actually caused them harm, and buying the unlucky recipient of that hatred a small amount of time to get as far away as possible. Laws are laws and even the underworld has them. I guess it is the way of the multi-verse.

After the clean-up, I looked directly at the boy, who had a look of sheer terror on his face making me realize that I was still in a more bestial form, and asked, as I shifted back into a more appropriate form, "Are you ready to leave"? I waltzed toward the cot where my friend lay and began to undo the spell-chains that bound him, careful to insure that they did not touch my bare skin.

He - He will be all right, won't he"? The boy asked showing genuine concern for my friend.

"I think so, but only time will tell, child," I answered. "Do you know how long he has been bound by the spell-chains? That could help me answer your question".

"He has only just been in them long enough for Vhal-drador to summon the daemonite and station him at the door. I think maybe three hours at most".

"Good. Then Tamlin should make a full recovery soon. Grab hold of him and do not let go, no matter what you see, sense or feel. Promise me and I will take you away from here safely".

The boy nodded his agreement of the terms and stated. "Brin, sir. My name is Brin".

"Well then, Brin. Are you ready"? Again, though there was a nervous twitch at the boy's right eye, there was a very definite nod of his head.

I put a hand on both Tamlin and Brin and began the teleportation spell to take us home, well.. At least, the spell would take us to the campsite that was where we were staying. The last thing I remembered seeing as we faded out, was the Lich Vhal-drador and his troops breaking into the cell and screaming in frustration as his captive and other possible captives getting away. I knew that this would not be the last we would see of the lich nor his troops and the only thing I could think of was to prepare everyone at the camp for the oncoming assault.

When we re-emerged from the teleportation spell, Natasha informed me that our wayward friends had made their way back to the camp, all of them relatively unharmed and Gotorah even more light hearted than normal. Dwarves. You have got to accept them, even if their temperament is hard to take. I will see to them as soon as I place Tamlin and Brin safely in Tamlin's tent.

It was nothing for me to carry Tamlin to his tent, Brin following close behind. I began to wonder about his concern for my friend. They seemed to be more than a slave should have.

"He promised me freedom", Brin commented offhandedly. "We spoke before Vhal-drador placed him in the spell-chains. Freedom is something I have never tasted and when Vhal-drador ordered me to insure the mage's life, and that is when I realized that this would be my only chance at freedom". A fierce look burned in Brin's eyes causing me to acknowledge the boy's newfound freedom with more than just a nod of my head, but a vow in my heart that this boy - NO - This new friend would not lose his freedom, if I could help it.

I stalked out of Tamlin's tent to find Johanish, Gotorah and Wolfling. Preparations had to be made and I needed to find out just what in the abyss happened to delay all three of our distractive forces. It wasn't that long of a walk, they were waiting for me at the far edge of the encampment, talking amongst themselves. Johanish and Wolfling knew that because of my condition I would hear what was being said.

"So, my wayward companions", I began as I stepped into their little circle, obviously taking my dwarven companion by surprise, "what were you doing that took so long for you to get back"?

Johanish was the first to relate his troubles with the guards sent to track him by the lich, Vhal-drador. It seems that the particular guards sent after him were undaunted by his speed and prowess with shadows. Johanish later discovered, from one he had to slay, that they had all been magickally enhanced. Vhal-drador's magicks were not to be taken lightly, and this would definitely be something we would have to plan for. Gotorah and Wolfling recounted the same thing. Magickally enhanced guards, chase, and eventually the slaying of those guards to affect an escape.

"And the whelp here is none the worse for ware", Gotorah grumbled. "Makes me wonder if he were really tracked at all". He trailed the last of eyeing the blood splatters all over Wolfling's clothing, which were in tatters and barely hanging on his strong young body. At barely 20 years old, he was the youngest member of the Adventurer's Guild. Long blond hair, silver blue eyes that denoted his hidden intellect, and a build that could easily be mistaken for a brick wall. For 5 years he has been my ward, my companion and a friend of the highest caliber.

"I fought as well, diminutive one", showing that surprising intellect and with a wickedly handsome and yet mischievous smile continued. "Just because I wear my battles better doesn't mean that they aren't as fierce, Gotorah"..

A chuckle from Gotorah belied the state of his true nature which was more or less on the contrary for one of his race. Most dwarves were people with a great sense of humor, even when drinking. Gotorah was not that way. Normally, he was truly a grumpy soul, which was quite the opposite of his moniker, Gotorah the Lightheart. I started that nick name when we first began to travel with each other. Aside from Kassandra Soulblade, you have met all of the original members of the Adventurer's Guild.

Questar was rousing. I could sense it and could tell that Wolfling could as well. The time for preparations was truly at hand. We were all awake. Cassandra came walking up with her brother, and Johanish suggested that we began to make these plans; however, he also stated that the first order of business was for Kassy to heal her brother. Stunned, she finally noticed that Questar was not quite himself and she turned her attention at correcting this. Wolfling and I both backed away inconspicuously to avoid being in the area of her holy action with me praying that she didn't notice the shift in my very nature.

End of Chapter 1 Part 2

Written By: Belfazaar Ashantison

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