The Fallen

Chapter Four

   Sylvaren let out a cry as he drew his blade, attempting to rouse the others, and backed towards the edge of the firelight. He gazed into the darkness, trying to make out his attackers and only now hearing the inane screeching.

"Boggarts!" He shouted, finally alerting the others and eliciting shouts of surprise and a string of curses from just about every tent in the clearing. Out from the shadows the first of those fiends leapt, stringing a primitive arrow into an equally primitive bow as it did so. This was the one that shot the first arrow, Sylvaren assumed, and ducked behind the nearest tree just as the arrow whistled through the air that he had just so recently vacated. Acting quickly he jumped out from his cover and charged at the creature, blade held low. The boggart squealed as the blade penetrated just below its ribcage and pinned it to the ground. With a negligent swipe Sylvaren threw it clear, freeing his blade to face the next foe. Behind him Jiména appeared, looking the worse for wear, her clothes obviously thrown on with due haste but holding her pistols and ready to fight. The others were nowhere to be seen, but the quiet rustling to either side gave away their attempt to flank their opponents, at least to Sylvaren, fortunately it didn't seem like their miniature enemies had noticed. After the brief respite that followed the sudden death of their comrade, the other boggarts seemed reluctant to approach. Suddenly Sylvaren felt an oppressive pressure on his ears that preceded a muffled cry to his right. He glanced over quickly, shaken and wondering what could have caused that, but he didn't have long to ponder since almost as soon as he felt this, the first wave of creatures appeared in front of them. The first line fell to the withering fire unleashed from Jiména's masterfully wielded pistols, with several falling with the distinctive needle like wounds of a light sniper rifle. Nyna was obviously not missing a chance to pot a few of the things herself. Sylvaren briefly noted the skill with which she took these down before his mind was brought back to the more pressing matters of survival. Clambering over the pile of fallen dead, the second wave approached. This wave looked a lot more serious than the last one as even the hail of fire provided by Jiména and Nyna wasn't enough to hold it back. Pivoting to the side, Sylvaren moved forward to take the charge head on, the first boggart to fall was almost hewn in two from a withering overhand blow and fell to the ground to twitch in a pool of ichor. Stepping round this Sylvaren parried a clumsy swipe, deflecting the creatures crude hand axe into the ground where it struck with a satisfying thud. Recovering quickly Sylvaren brought his bright blade around to take off the thing's head with a single controlled sweep. Before the boggarts head had even touched the floor Sylvaren had moved into the rest, slashing around him in a whirlwind of steely death leaving a trail of severed limbs, sliced stomachs and split skulls as he moved through with a deadly grace. He held them off for several more minutes, suffering the occasional wound as every now and then a lucky boggart got in a quick blow before being killed in short order. A firm hand on his arm pulled him back and Jiména took his place. Falling back he saw her deathly dance as she felled ever more of the unpleasant vermin. Drawing his bow Sylvaren resolved to do his best to help his friend, taking a fair share down with the all but silent whistle of elven arrows.

They kept on coming, a full two score of the creatures were lying dead by now, the grass and trees soaked by blood looking black in the still burning fire light. They kept on coming, each wave felled like the last, a never ending stream of creatures falling to the superior skill of the three that held them at bay.

Then, with a cry filled with battle lust, a blood soaked Aedan erupted from the shadows of the trees to the right of the creatures, dropping his turret rifle and falling into the fray and with his war axe held high above his head he quickly carved his way through the left flank of the encroaching horde. Sylvaren had never seen him fight before and grudgingly had to admit he was very good, for a human. Shortly afterwards, Cascus, surprisingly clean of the blood, emerged from the left and charged head first into the creatures. Holding his quarterstaff low he took the first of the beasts in the stomach, lifting it clear of the crowd and slamming it into the nearest tree. With a sickening crunch the lifeless body slipped to the floor, a clear fluid mingled with blood dribbling out of its ears. This was how he fought, it was surprisingly effective and equally understandable. It's rather hard to kill something of any size with something as light as a stick, the most you can normally hope to achieve is pissing it off and drawing its attention. So, instead of using the stick as a weapon, Cascus used it as a tool to get the boggarts into a position where he could eliminate them with either the heel of his heavy boot or with the heavy dagger he gripped in his right hand. The final effect was one of deadly efficiency and shocking brutality but it fulfilled its intended goal and soon the pile of dead on his flank was beginning to pile up.