"If you can hear me, look at that copper bracer on the guard's arm in front of you" I eagerly, mentally, spouted at the man, or close to it. The man, however, just looked about, taken aback from this place not being wherever he was planning on being. That is, he was like that until one of the guards tried to push him back in line.
Wherever the man came from, it was apparently not the norm for someone to take slaves, considering how bewildered he looked at first when he looked about. The second thing was that he seemed to be a man of the more violent part of humanity. He pumped out his chest against the spear, a universal sign of defiance.
The guards weren't going to have any of it, all noticing him doing such a thing. I, on the other hand, was sooo down to help. "To your right!" I yelled, the man's face turned in that direction, ducking as he saw the charging guard telegraph a sideways swing of his mace, something he also saw. The guard was a novice, becoming unbalanced and falling forward.
The man rolled, going for the legs of the guard that tried to push him back into line, already noticing that the guard wanted to do some fighting too with the smallish spear he had. The man rolled in to him so hard that both fell, the man only made a faint for the dirk that was on the side of the guard's belt. going for the temples with both of his fists, something that appeared to do something nasty to the guard's inner head.
The second guard was more then recovered from the overreach with the mace. That guard was already on his swing. The summoned man rolled again, he must be dizzy by now, holding up the previous guard. The mace hit the guard and the man in the side, the man howled a bit, a pained one.
"The other guard is throwing his spear! Behind you!" I yelled as the necromancer started aiming his throw, his foot started tapping as he readied, the same kind of tap that he did in his corrupted workshop dealing with cadavers. Honestly it was beyond annoying in the fashion that he did it.
The spear did a wobbling dance as it flew, missing the obviously low target and going through the mace guard. The mace guy dropped to his knees in absolute shock, I could almost sense his eyes going out of focus. The iron mail that covered the man's chest didn't go all the way down to the gut, where the javelin made it's new home. The chain mail did allow me however to sense the man's pulse going sporadic because of the shock. Then I realized something that would have made me shivered to the bones if I had any.
Out of reflex, I sublimated, vaporize, the iron spear head before it flew. "And it still went fully through the man." It was at this point I really was doubting that I could get my wearer killed. It was at this point when the Other-worlder said something garbled to the other slaves. Luckily it really didn't matter if they understood the words. They knew what was trying to say, "help me fight!" Something they could now do, the howls and screams of the unfairly unbalanced scuffle waking up the Other-worlders out of the dazzle they were in.
The first person that reacted to the call, being also the one that seemed to be the most clear headed of the group, was a middle-aged lady with the physique of some sort of street rouge. The garb which she bore also concurred with this idea. I also noticed that scale like things were peppering her skin. A mainstay trait of the Assimilator species if I recalled correctly.
The lady grabbed one of her knives off of her belying poncho and threw it. The lady seemed not to care if the actual knife hit the guard close to her or not, she was charging towards the man with another one, the first one was a faint that cost the guard precious time ducking. The lady was on the man in a flash, cutting two or three gashes into the man's neck.
"Hey! Attack the man that threw the spear, in the red dust! I said, the red dust was the vaporized iron spear head. This only had a small effect on the Necromancer manifesting into a slight shake in the hands as he tried to keep battlefield awareness. It was a more common reaction for a wearers of mine to panic and try to cover their mouth when the rust appeared if that was our first interaction.
The man tugged out the wooden rod and bashed the two guards at his feet with it, in the back of the neck for some reason, "for surety's sake I guess" I thought to myself. The finally came rushing at the necromancer, using the wooden rod now as a club. The Necromancer reacted by just by strutting out his feet and holding out his hands. He was trying to use a spell the currently was thought of as "unsafe" if one did not utter incantations that went along with it. The ugly and violently decaying air pressure waves told me that it was a spell meant to rapidly decay someone's body.
I would have cackled at the inspiration that hit me. I moved the rust cloud around his hand, slowly getting a bracelet of a sort to surround his hand. Then I recalled the exact vibrations and made the rust vibrate at a harmonic of a kind, getting the rust particles to rub tightly against each other as much as possible. The necromancer was too busy paying attention to the man to notice how his hand started sparking until it was too late.
He let loose the spell, causing the air to compress around his hand, which was just enough to make the Iron oxide to sear off a good portion of the hand. The spell flew despite the explosion. Luckily it did cause the spell to go off the mark, simply just meeting the wooden rod, making it turn into nasty spores that slowly dispersed even while the Otherworlder man held it.
The man shrugged to himself, the adrenaline probably telling him to take action rather than ponder about that. The otherworlder did a quick three-step and a leap at the necromancer, doing some sort of brace for his biceps. The stance was soon justified, the man's weight transferred all to the necromancer's head, neck if the man wasn't crouching as much because of the pain.
The man didn't let up as the necromancer fell backward, transferring as much energy from his body to the necromancer via blows, his fists slowly blurring, red droplets soon started leaking out of one of his fists. He heaved a sigh as he noticed only slowing down. Crude justice now was satiated, in my eyes.
I took the breather as time to talk to the man. "Hey take that archer bracer the man is wearing, this particular voice is in it." I said in a less then respectable tone. Grand spirits knows, I don't want to be around that guard ever again. "Oh and... 'curb stomp' his skull a bit, he will still be alive even after that but its the best we can do."
The otherworlder looked befuddled, grabbing me off of the guard and strapping me on himself loosely, doing only a couple quick knots. "Finally!" I exclaimed, totally not in the tone equivalent to a child on their major birthdays.
YOU ARE READING
Isarnfur
Adventure-second draft- this is a story about a group of characters that hasn't been told often. Spirits stuck into armor. This is the story about Isarnfur, a spirit dedicated to manipulating Iron. He has been stuck in a piece of armor, and how he...
