Author's note

Inspiration is a cruel, cruel thing. One day it's there, the next you're back to struggling. I'll need to edit this chapter up, but that'll be in the editing time. In NaNoWriMo, we tune out our inner editor - otherwise 50K words is really hard... Not that it isn't already.

Perhaps I just need some more chapters from Troll, J0nn0 and potato of darkness, to get me inspired, like yesterday... Yeah, get typin' guys, need that inspiration!

Word count

This chapter: 1729

Total: 31680

NaNoWriMo target for the 18th: 31667

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“We’ve got the grey witch! Don’t move a muscle!” Dew howled, as the guards quickly pointed their swords at Rosedriah who was lying on the ground in a small pool of her own blood.

“Ah, you got me.” Molly said with a smile on her face, as she lifted her arms, with her palms slightly above her head. For a brief moment, she held her arms fixed in place. “Just kidding.” She smiled, and lowered her hands again.

“Cut off her arm to show this witch I’m serious!” Dew commanded.

The guards fell to the ground, small daggers poking out of them from various places.

“Cutting off somebody’s arms? that’s not very nice, Dew.” Molly said.

“Show yourself, assassin.” Dew demanded.

“But there’s still guards to kill.” Molly said, as a slight hint of cruel enjoyment showed in her eyes.

Dew’s hand faintly started glowing.

“This is why we don’t like your kind. Sadists, all of you.”

“Don’t be like that, you’re the ones who made us like this in the first place.” Molly answered.

Dew’s hand glowed brighter golden.

“We wouldn’t have antagonized you if you didn’t eat babies and kill villagers.”

“Ah, the age old discussion - what came first? The wrath of the church or the cruelty of the witches?” Molly answered. “In any case… Catch!” She threw a mixture at Dew, who completely evaded any contact with it, his hand still glowing ever brighter.

The mixture cracked on the ground, and Molly exhaled. “That’s no fun.”

BOOM!

“Or is it?” She smiled, as Dew was staggering from the shock-wave unleashed by the shattered vial.

Aitken saw his chance, and darted at Dew, sword raised high.

Dew turned around and blocked, but a mixture was lugged after him from behind.

Aitken stood still, locking swords with Dew for a moment, until Dew dodged the mixture and Aitken had to jump sideways to avoid it.

BOOM!

“You should stay out of this, Imp” Molly yelled to him.

Aiken decided to heed the warning, and went to help Cepath and Flasor fight off the last remaining guards.

A handful guards were lined up against Cepath and Flasor, both of whom were heavily bleeding from both shallow and deep cuts and bruises.

Aitken circled around, and leapt at a guard along the side of the formation, stabbing him with the sword.

the second-in-line guard turned towards Aitken, but was taken by a fireball by Flasor.

BOOM!

She’s still throwing those, huh?

The remaining guards seemed to waver, and this gave Aitken an opening - combined with an arrow from Cepath, a fireball from Flasor and Aitken’s own blade, another guard succumbed. The remaining guards started running for the city.

“Cowards!” Dew yelled in fury. “You’ll all die in shame!”

This did little to rally the guards, as they continued their flight towards the gates.

In a flash, a shadow swept by, cutting them down. Their blood flowed to the ground as each of their hearts beat for the last time.

“Now, for the paladin.” The shadow said. The shadow was a humanoid figure covered in black leather from top to toe, hardly even revealing his eyes.

Flasor and Cepath backed Molly up, and the shadow went and fought with Dew in melee.

Aitken hesitated, there was little for him to do. He walked over to Rosedriah and bandaged her stab-wounds as best he could with some leather scraps. It wouldn’t last, but it would hold up for now.

Aitken looked over at the battle - it seemed as if they had as good as won. Dew wasn’t even retaliating, and he had a hard time dodging. Aitken noticed the hand still glowing, but shrugged it off, it was just a faint glow, after all. He couldn’t even gather up energy for an attack.

Aitken looked back at Rosedriah, who seemed unconscious at this point. Aitken inhaled, as if he wished to say something.

BZOOOM!

Aitken’s eyes darted to the paladin, who had unleashed an incredibly powerful, golden shockwave. The shadow warrior stood in the way, and the wave neared Aitken, who threw himself to the ground. The shadow warrior’s upper body fell to the ground, leaking his internal organs onto the meadow grass, coloring it mostly red.

Aitken, Cepath, Flasor and Molly were all stunned. Dew used this moment to gather up holy energy and ram Cepath in the stomach with a fist, sending him flying into a tree. Cepath stopped moving.

Aitken threw his shield to the side, and dashed at Dew, grabbing a large rock along the way.

Flasor scrabled to put a salvaged sword up in defense, as Dew’s sword impacted his, resulting in small sparks and a ringing metal-on-metal sound. Flasor’s sword cracked, but didn’t fully break.

Aitken arrived, swinging a sword relentlessly at Dew, who merely sidestepped it. Aitken followed up by throwing the rock at Dew’s face, and it struck the open helmet with a sound not unlike a medium-sized bell.

DONG!

Flasor threw a fireball to Aitken before he retreated backwards.

Aitken flapped his wings, and rammed the fireball into the open helmet, scorching Dew’s face, yet still not exploding like Aitken had planned.

Dew swung his sword - this time glowing at Aitken. The paladin's sword cut through Aitken's sword, as if it was a hot knife through butter. The sword was cut in two and Aitken narrowly dodged a blow to the face, receiving a light cut along the cheekbone. The blade continued and amputated a part of Aitken’s wing.

Aitken winced in pain. At the same time, Molly had recovered and howled in fury. “Zyrath.. No! NO!”

She threw dozens of flasks towards Aitken and Dew.

Aitken ran with all his might, flapping his one-and-a-half wings, squirting his orange blood everywhere.

BOO-BOO-BOOOM!

Multiple explosions and instant fires started where Aitken and Dew had stood.

Dew had evaded as well, and now darted at Molly, who responded by throwing another dozen flasks at him.

He evaded them all, and arrived in front of Molly in the matter of mere moments.

Molly was frozen in the face of Dew, as he lifted his glowing sword. “Die, witch!”

Stab stab stab stab.

Aitken looked over at Rosedriah where the sound had come from. A slim but long wave of dense flames swept towards Dew.

Like the fury of damnation itself, Dew howled as he was heavily burnt.

“Die, for what you did to Zyrath!” Molly howled as threw just about any and all flasks she had left at the paladin, while leaping full-force backwards herself.

BOOM BOOOM BOOOOOM… BO-BO-BOOM!

Multiple ear-wrecking explosions occured, and Aitken saw a charred arm fly by him, landing far away on the other side of Rosedriah.

Aitken’s eyes quickly fell on Molly, who was laying on the ground several meters from the point of explosion - heavily wounded herself.

Aitken frantically looked over at Flasor. “Help Cepath and the assassin, I’ll help the witches!”

Aitken threw a scrap of leather to the heavily panting Rosedriah. He nodded slightly at her, as he ran over to help Molly in any way he could.

Molly spotted the imp. “Red potion, belt. Wounded… Drink. hideout.. north east, F-five thousand paces…”

She heaved for air. Aitken snatched two red potions from her belt, and popped the lid of one. He let the contents slip into Molly’s mouth. Almost instantly, Molly’s pupils widened, covering most of her iris. She stopped talking, but her breathing stabilized.

Aitken looked over at Rosedriah, who struggled to keep awake from the loss of blood. He popped a second vial, and poured the contents into her mouth. Indeed, as expected Rosedriah’s pupils grew large, covering her iris.

Flasor approached, supporting Cepath, who was otherwise walking on his own.

“The assassin is dead.” Flasor said. "May he face his fate with head held high."

Aitken nodded. He had expected as much.

“Let’s get them back to that hideout she talked about.”

Aitken noticed the paladin’s sword was still intact, unlike the rest of his gear. He proceeded picked it up and brought it along. They carried the two drugged witches towards the hideout. (AN: That sounds dubious... I should fix that before posting...)

The cave wasn’t as much a hideout as Molly had made it out to be, considering it was an overgrown and mossy graveyard with an old cracked mausoleum in the middle.

“I guess that’s the place.” Flasor said, still carrying Molly over his back.

Cepath nodded, as he supported himself with his unstrung bow.

“Let’s just get in there and see what they’ve got.” Aitken said.

Cepath walked into the mausoleum ahead of the others.

“Ah!” it echoed in the mausoleum.

Flasor and Aitken looked at each other, rushing inside, just to see the vast blackness of perfect darkness. Cepath was nowhere to be seen.

“What in damnation?” Flasor said, eyes darting around the place. “Cepath?” he hollered.

Only the echoes answered his voice. Flasor looked at Aitken and Aitken looked back. They both formed a fireball in their left hands, still having the right one occupied holding each their respective witch in place over their shoulders. “Let’s go down and find him.” Flasor said.

Aitken nodded. “But carefully, wouldn’t wanna be caught by somebody in this situation.”

As they descended into the darkness, the soft glow of the fireballs illuminated the smooth stones surrounding them.

“Pretty steep... Hm, I wonder how Cepath disappeared so fast?” Flasor said.

Aitken’s eyes darted around the place. “Traps. Just be on the lookout for them.”

“Ah. Hold up, I'll scout for traps.” Flasor said, as he threw his fireball forwards. a long hallways with small plates all over the floor was revealed.

“Pressure plates. Follow me, I’ll check them with fire.”

Aitken frowned, lifting a single eyebrow “With fire?”

His answer came shortly as Flasor threw small fireballs on each of the pressure plates, securing them before walking. “Ah, that’s the last of them. I’ll scout with a fireball once more.”

Flasor threw a fireball and took a step forwards in the process, the vicinity was only lit by a dim light, stemming from Aitken’s torch-sized fireball.

Flasor's voice suddenly reached Aitken's ears. “Mmmbbhll”

“Flasor?” Aitken turned around rapidly, lighting up the place Flasor had been in, just to see the smooth stone wall next to where Flasor should have been.

You’ve got to be kidding me. "Who’s there?”

Aitken’s only answer was the echoing of the hallway.

“Hello?” Aitken walked over to where Flasor had stood, peeking around. It didn’t seem like any traps had been triggered - more like somebody or something was there, taking them through the very floor. A chill ran down Aitken’s spine. Could it really be a lich?

Aitken swallowed his spit, but gave up finding Flasor here - surely he was taken somewhere else.

Aitken pressed on, still carrying Rosedriah on his back. He peeked backwards, noticing her enlarged pupils. Suddenly Aitken felt very alone, amidst the darkness and the unknown lurking somewhere, waiting for a single misstep, or perhaps just waiting to get back from abducting Flasor.

Aitken had no intentions of finding out, and he rushed forwards in an attempt to out-race the abductor.

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Ah, I forgot to fix the mid-chapter thing I labled "AN:" as "author's note." Yeah... I'll keep those to a minimum.

Thanks for reading!