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Questing Chronicles. III PDF Print
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
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Questing Chronicles. III
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The Roth Saga
Part Eight

The dull metallic ring of of the combatants blades sounded almost hollow in the vacuum like silence that filled the ancient stone circle. Again and again their weapons rose and fell with increasing vigour and frequency. What had began as a deadly duel of skill and finesse had quickly descended into a brutal battle of tenacity and attricion. There was no need for defense in this brawl like melee, the opponents simply stood a few paces apart and stoically bore the brunt of each of their attacks.


Lord Roth drew deep, ragged breaths into his painfully burning lungs. The foul stench emanating from his unwholesome advesary made each needed breath almost unbearable to draw. Sweat ran down his un-helmeted face in profusion, leaving his light grey hair and walrus like mustache completely saturated and limp. And yet for all of his tiredness and all of the abuse he was putting his body through, Lord Roth stood before his opponent completely resolute and seemingly indominatable. Unfortunately the same could also be said about the Nurgle champion who had thus far matched him blow for blow.

With his teeth bared and gritted,Lord Roth dug deep of his reserves and managed to muster the strength to press forward and renew his attack. With rapid swipes of his blade Lord Roth bore down upon the furiously defending Chaos knight. Each successive blow rained down faster and faster, at a truly blistering pace. His opponent stunned and reeling, sank to one knee as thick green liquid spilled from the ancient breaches within the ruined armour to saturated the well trodden grass with it's tainted filth.


Lord Roth could not land the finishing blow on his enemy as he had also sank to one knee, a searing pain had lanced his chest. His eyes were screwed shut in agony as pain continued to erupt from him as he drew short, shallow breaths into his aching lungs. As quickly as the pain had flared, it soon abated. With his eyes still tightly shut he continued to breathe slowly until the phantom pain was mastered. After a time,he rose to his feet and gazed upon the kneeling figure of the Chaos champion. The ground was covered in the befouling pus like matter that had spilled forth from the broken and rent armour of his adversary. Gone was the colour from the recently green tinged armour ,returned as it was to it's original reddish rust covered state. The air of evil, and the feeling of malice had dissapated from the ruined armour and once more it seemed to be truly inanimate.


Lord Roth paced around the rusting suit, trying to fathom what had actually occured here. He had not landed a mortal blow upon his enemy, and in his heart he knew his task was still unfulfilled. Sighing heavily he turned his attention to the stone circle encompassing him, perhaps the key to his fate lay there. As he began to make for the standing stones he heard a hissing sound coming from all around him. His head snapped around and scanned for the source of the noise that permeated the air of the ancient site. A chilling breeze had begun to pick up and scatter the thick moss that had been churned up by the two combatants earlier struggle.

The decaying rents in the ruined armour whistled eerily in the wind that was now swirling with gale like force through the area. Suddenly Lord Roth's head whipped to the left as his straining senses detected what he thought was a voice on the wind. Concentrating hard he realised that there were several voices speaking in strange tongues that he could not decipher masked within the howling gale. Breathing deeply Lord Roth bellowed in an effort to be heard above the blowing wind.


"Show yourselves foul spawn, Her will shall be done this day!"


The wind stopped. So sudden was it's passing that the Lord Roth nearly dropped his sword in shock. Gripping his broadsword tightly in a two handed grip he took a defensive stance as he awaited his next trial.

 

  


Last Updated ( Sunday, 14 August 2011 )
 
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