Fourth Tale

Chapter 3

3

Barristan didn't react when the group he'd joined with for an outing into the Cove also included the exotic newcomer he'd flattened.

She, however, turned a shade darker and he found her jet black eyes narrowing as she glowered at him. He ignored her.

"Barristan, Amani, Malek and Paracelsus," the Plague Doctor chirped pointing to everyone as she said their names and then she jumped excitedly, "We're scouting!" She actually raised a fist in the air and posed.

"Stay behind me," Barristan had harrumphed and started making his way towards the entrance of the Cove without even glancing back.

"You heard the man!" Paracelsus exclaimed pumped up, "To the Cove!"

To the Man-at-Arms, the Cove was nothing but a cesspool of corrupted memories and he gained so much satisfaction from killing the fishfolk that he barely got any stress at all. He'd kissed his wife (may the Light watch over her spirit) over yonder, and he'd buried her not far from the Cove (she'd loved the sea).

He raised his shield just as a fishfolk (a Grouper for those interested) went to jab him. He grumbled to himself when he noticed a long spear slide just below his elbow, Amani had ducked behind him and was using a fighting style that worked in tandem with his.

Swords and daggers were pretty useless against the hardened scales as the blades just slid off. The sound of breaking bone that accompanied his strikes however, definitely proved that these scaled monstrosities were best dealt with bludgeoning.

Another fell to Amani's spear. Piercing as well apparently ( grudgingly admitted).

He raised his shield as a smoking vial sailed over his head and landed at the feet of a particularly nasty Pelagic Grouper. Barristan had to look away as the thing shrieked and... melted (mild shuddering).

Paracelsus (the owner of said poisonous vials) had shown a strange glee-like excitement over her uniquely blended concoctions and their many affects. Barristan better understood now the difference between a Doctor and a Plague Doctor , one was insane.

Malek, and it bothered Barristan to no end that he had to admit this, was a great boon to their party. The turban-wearing Occultist had dealings with the Eldritch that made him that much more deadly. It was as though his dagger was meant for slicing the demons. It was just when he called on those same-said demons for aid that unnerved Barristan.

The floating, candle-adorned skull that the shorter man carried around gave the Man-at-Arms the creeps (for a lack of a better term). He'd noticed the blackened eye sockets glowing red at times, and sometimes, he'd swear the skull was looking at him.

The Sea Maggot's shell exploded beneath his mace (the last of their scaled foes) with a satisfying crunch that Barristan would never tire of hearing. He straightened as he gave his weapon one hard slash towards the ground to clean it of stinky, sticky slime.

Amani stepped up beside him as he stared ahead, down the darkened corridors.

"You fight well," she spoke casually. He took a deep breath and didn't glance at her. He kept his eye ahead, watching for a flash of scales in the fading torchlight.

"You held the line," he stated, grudgingly proud.

He had to admit the gel had made good use of his big, bulky body (he was barrel chested, stocky and wide, but of average height). She'd jabbed her spear, hitting from low while he'd struck up high. They'd kept their more frail-looking party members sheltered, and guarded behind them that the latters had been able to pepper their enemies with concoctions and... tentacles ...