Tales from Blackrock Spire - By Vaknor

Running the gauntlet

The gauntlets’ walls were lined with spikes adorned with blood splatter and bone shards. Discarded armor plates and rusted weapons lie strewn about the floor in piles of fecal matter and other filth.

A gate at one end of the alley of death ground slowly open and above their audience took to their seats, the raucous orcs bellowing in exaltation in anticipation of the coming blood-shed. Three knights stood like glowing beacons in the dark surroundings. The oldest of the three sighed heavily and heaved his shield.
“Here we go.”

Above the mad One-eyed War-cheif raised his axe in salutation and smiled the thinnest of smiles.
“You’ve made it this far into Blackrock pitiful man-things but you will not prevail. Die well.” With that the grizzled orc general lowered his axe and the first wave of green skins and dragon-kin rushed through the rusted gate. Evangelist pushed to the fore moving with a grace unbefitting of one heaving so large a sword, he moved through his ancient blade dance carving a swathe of destruction through the enemy lines…

Still more came.

“Vaknor! Get the younglings to the back; we’ll take care of this!”

Macloren spat on the floor and heaved his mace over his shoulder. The weapon said to be a gift from the church, it's holy aura glowed bright in the blood-lit alley.
“As you wish my lord.” Vaknor bowed curtly and guided the three young adventurers out of harms way… He whispered to the first:

“Now there will be bloodshed younglings; our lord and our champion side by side, there shall be retribution done this day!” His face lit with an internal glow and he produced an old cracked leather book from his robe. Holding it open in one hand he spoke the words of the Lightbearer whilst guiding bolts of holy energy amongst the enemy.

Macloren was the Yin to Evangelist’s Yang where Evangelist moved fluidly, almost gracefully Macloren roared and snorted, spat and cursed. No sooner than one dragon had hit the floor his fury would hurl him into the next crushing all before him with unrelenting rage. Vaknor shook his head and smiled...

“To be young again.” He mumbled to himself whilst spreading his healing waves into his brother’s auras. Wave after wave of dragon-kin and foul orcs rushed at them, each being turned back with precision and fury in equal measures. Until only one remained.

“It seems I will have to deal with you myself man things.”

Before them on a dragon as dark as night was the War-cheif Rend his one eye glowing madly in the half light. Macloren roared
“I’d like to be seeing you try Xenos!” His thick northern accent brought out in his anger.
“It begins.” Evangelist quietly muttered to someone unseen.

The dragon moved with such a speed it was unbelievable, it took flight in the narrow corridor and rained down fire amongst the knights of Illumination. Vaknor was hit hard his beard singed and his skin bubbling where the molten fire of the dragon’s breath had touched it. He screamed in agony. Evangelist and Macloren were already climbing the spiked walls using anything they could for purchase. Each foot and hand hole found in haste, they looked at each other and with a curt nod between them flung themselves from the wall.

Evangelist’s sword bit deep into the dragon’s neck severing its twisted maw, whilst Macloren’s hammer swung in taking Rend in the chest. The hall echoed with the sound of the sickening crunch. The war-chief was flung across the hall and landed hard on the ground beside Vaknor. Wheezing and coughing up blood the immense orc rolled on top of the old cleric squeezing the life from his throat. Vaknor gulped hard trying to breath with the weight of the vile beast on top of him.
“Die.” Rend’s one eye locked on Vaknor as he squeezed the last drop of life out of him could not see the blade of Evangelist swing in to deliver the killing blow. The blade tip protruded from Rend’s throat as the War-chief gave one last death rattle and released the old man.

Vaknor breathed in a huge lungful of air and tried to get to his feet.
“Thank you brother;” Vaknor hissed, his throat still damaged… “But next time a little faster if you please.”

Evangelist helped the old man up and they joined their lord. Macloren mused:
“A mighty warrior has fallen here this day, we shall honor him.” Macloren withdrew a short blade from his greaves and cut Rend’s eye-patch free.
“Sleep well War-chief.”

With that the three bruised and battered knights walked up to the trio of adventurers they were accompanying through the lands of the Blackrock. Macloren smiled broadly…
“Well that was the easy part… Best we are moving along no?”
The adventurers gawped as the three knights, even the eldest who was ancient in years stood and marched deeper into the mountains heart.