The air was thick and warm, and a heavy fog was rolling
off the lake. Bazil was walking cautiously, ears alert for any sound of
his foes. When he had reached the peak of the hill behind him, he had spotted
flames below, and he was now near to the source. The fog was taking on
a flickering, reddish quality, so Baz knew he was close.
Looks like the cursed Abyss out here he thought.
Taking a firmer grip on his staff, he made his way past the broken gates
of the shattered town.
Strange....there were no bodies anywhere, only shattered
furniture. A hat rack here, an end table there, all hacked to pieces, as
if by a sword or axe.
Curiouser and curiouser...Baz readied a spell of
undying fire on his lips and grimly travelled towards the center square.
Soon....he would get to the bottom of this...
"Die you misbegotten sons of dogs!"
The cry reached Baz's ears through the fog, bringing
him instantly on his guard. He knew that voice. It was the voice of his
most sex crazed adversary, Julian! But how could that be?!?!? He had personally
crushed his skull!
"You bastards! You'll never take the mighty Julian
Stillsmore down!"
Well that settles that question.
Bazil set off at a run towards the sound of the
hoarse cries. As he closed in, he thought he could hear chopping sounds...strange.
Bazil increased his pace.
As the massively powerful, mighty thewed, magnificiently
magical mage reached the square, the fog lifted, giving Bazil a clear view
of the situation. It was indeed Julian, and he was quite alive. The warrior
was duelling valiantly with a bloodthirsty
horde of crazed...furniture?!?!
What foul spell is this, that can bring ordinary
house fixtures to life and instill them with a horrid thirst for the blood
of innocents....or Julian.
Surprisingly, despite the huge numbers of various
pieces of furniture assailing him, Julian was handling himself fairly well,
although he was bleeding from many small cuts. Except of course for that
huge, beefy (well...maybe not beefy per se, but
you get the point) dresser that was...umm...sneaking up on Julian. (how
the hell does a dresser sneak? Ahh well...on with it!)
Smiling lightly, Bazil unleashed the spell of Undying
Fire at the dresser, causing it to burst into the neverending flames. And
let me tell you...the horrid death-screams of possessed, beefy, sneaking
dressers is truly shattering. Not for the faint of heart.
Then, Bazil fired off six more fireballs in rapid
succession, each coming closer and closer to Julian. The aghast tables
and dressers and such flew through the air with reckless abandon. The few
that managed to survive the fireballs and the subsequent landings were
understandably miffed. Flying through the air after being blown there by
a ball of flame as big as a house is not a good way to spend ones time.
Those few that survived were mercilessly incinerated by Bazils great arcane
mastery. He set them on fire of course. (strange preoccupation
with fire...don't you think?)
Well anyway...by this time Julian was looking fairly
surprised. he spun around, looking for the source of those saving fireballs.
when his gaze alighted upon the triumphant mage, his expression turned
to puzzlement.
"Why did you save me, O Great One?" the battered
warrior questioned.
"Because I think you may just be able to help me,
old one," Baz replied. "the bard has continued to give us the slip, and
is even now on this very lake, searching for a means to defeat us both."
Baz didn't question how he knew this, he just did. Gut feeling, if you
will.
Bazil continued. "I want you to help me track him
down. Do not attack the bard himself, he would be too much for you in your
weakened physical condition, but his skeleton crew...they are a different
story altogether. I want them dead"
Bazil continued speaking to the apt ears of the
wounded fighter, but his mind wandered elsewhere. How had he known of the
skeleton crew, and the weapon that Balanthalus would use. He suddenly realized
he possessed knowledge he had no explainable way
of knowing!
Hearing a light sound behind him, Baz whipped around
to see....the old bard from the forest! Cordicello! How had the old coot
caught up with him!
The ruffled old bard was walking slowly into the
square. Noticing Bazils interest, he smiled coldly.
"Of course I caught up with you, young one. I AM
after all, a premiere bard. We have ways to move quickly" he said. Bazil
noticed there was no accent to speak of.
"Now Bazil. I want you to leave this warrior to
me, I will council him on how to chase down Balanthalus and how to defeat
the skeletons. You must go after the bard now."
"But..." Baz began.
"NO. you go NOW" The power in the old ones voice
was stunning, the air trembled with its power. The unreasonable anger in
his voice frightened Bazil.
"You have questioned me for the last time, impetuous
mage!Now I send you to a place where you shall bother me no more and I
can follow my own goals withOUT your petty interference!" Even as he spoke,
the grimy bard wove his hands in intricate patterns. Bazil almost recognized
the patterns, but then it was too late.
Everything went black, and Bazil felt
no more.