ALL NOVEL Ch. 33 Troll-kin
The hobs raced in front of the War Chief with their spears leading the way, bloodlust filling their eyes. The War Chief kept coming forward with slow shuffling steps that shook the earth. The first of the hobs closed the distance spear bobbing in front of it.
Santi swatted the speartip with the flat of his saber, pushing the spear up and over his shoulder. A quick thrust finished off the hob, the point of his sword digging through its eye and into the brain. Twisting and pulling the sword free of the dead hob, Santi raced toward the slowly lumbering chief.
A half goblin-troll, the War Chief would have greater strength and powerful regenerative properties along with a higher intelligence of just a standard troll. In the early days of the system integration, these would likely be some of the highest leveled monsters around. At the moment Santi was glad that nobody would have Identify or adjacent level skill. The level disparity of the War Chief and everyone else would just sap morale.
Santi closed the distance, using Gust to blow a thick cloud of ash, dust, and dirt up around the monster's face. The War Chief stopped as the cloud enveloped it. It took a few gasping breaths before sneezing violently, the cloud around it dispersed from the force.
Santi slipped to its flank, blade lashing out as it skated over the plate with a screech of metal on metal. He attacked three more times as fast as he could, his recently improved stats aiding him as he cut at the War Chief’s hip. Each blow dented and gouged the thinner metal at the hip joint before finally yielding on the fourth blow.
Inky blood ran over the stygian armor in a wave as the War Chief howled in anger, spinning with sudden adroitness. Its long greatsword rasped out of the scabbard as the blade raced along at waist length. Santi fell to the ground and rolled away from stomping feet.
Hopping back to his feet, Santi led the monster away from the rest of the defenders as they fought the enraged hobs. From the quick glance he managed to sneak he could see that they were holding their own and slowly overwhelming the hobgoblins.
Santi danced to the sides, always attacking at the joints of the War Chief’s armor. The thick plate rebuffed every blow but the monster was too slow to capitalize on its impenetrable defense. Its heavy blade swished through the air over and over again, never coming close to Santi as he kept leading it toward the barricade.
With the barricade showing up behind him through his Air Current, Santi stopped retreating and began to move sideways along the length of the wall as the War Chief continued its lumbering attack. Each breath it emitted was foul with the stench of rotting meat that filled the space around them.
Santi slipped around another slow strike and slashed again at the original hip he had attacked. The plate on the hip was a twisted ruin of metal and his System Forged sword cut deep again. More blood flowed out but even as he darted backward, he could see it slowing as the War Chief’s natural regenerative abilities closed the wound. Santi had to keep the War Chief occupied until the hobs were finished.
The sun was beginning to rise, bloody red on the horizon as the dawn broke the horizon. Faint tendrils of light helped illuminate the scene of the scores of dead that littered the ground. Santi was light on his feet as he moved from body to body. The shifting corpses were poor footing and he had to be careful with his every step.
The War Chief simply stepped on the bodies and his ironclad boots sank through the corpses.
“Santi! We’re coming!” Tank called out behind him. Santi ducked low to avoid losing his head and backpedaled to give himself space as a bunch of people came rushing toward him.
“Stay to the sides! Surround it and keep it spinning. Piercing weapons only, blunt stays back. We need to get some type of fire!” Santi gave orders as the groups slowly surrounded the War Chief.
The wide figure was drenched in its own blood while its boots to ankles were gore spattered from having stepped through bodies. The long greatsword was gray and unstained, having never managed to once draw blood so far. Its yellow eyes were bloodshot and it panted in a mix of exertion of rage.
“Trey, Dillon, Martin, go and get the gas cans! Spears to the front!” Tank was barking orders as he worked behind everyone trying to organize the attackers.
Chloe raced behind the War Chief with her axe cocked back behind her shoulder. The silver edge on the blade was glowing brighter and thicker than Santi had seen so far. She chopped down at the War Chief’s knee with a grunt of effort and Santi was glad to see the blade cut through the armor and deep into the knee.
Screaming in rage and pain, it spun around with a backhand that had Chloe dropping to the ground and rolling away, abandoning her axe in the monster's knee. Two men surged forward with their spears, stabbing at its face as it screamed and slashed out with the greatsword. The improvised spears turned to splinters and the two men dissolved into crimson sprays.
The sudden deaths stopped everyone, fear filling their eyes. Santi could understand the fear, he had been kiting the monster easily enough and Chloe had landed a powerful blow with little effort. It was only his title and experience that had kept him ahead of the War Chief though and Chloe was likely the highest ranked person around and had looked to exert all of her power in the single blow.
More people surged forward at Tank’s urging while Santi slinked behind the group of spear men. Jabbing at the monster they faded back as the greatsword swung though the space they had been occupying. Santi slashed again, targeting the same hip he had been wounding over and over again. The War Chief only had some of the regenerative abilities of a troll and eventually he could overcome it.
Tiredness was sneaking in, his limbs growing heavy as the fight kept going. The mental numbness he had been feeling slowly overwhelmed him. Long drawn out fights weren’t his forte and now he was beginning to flag and no one else could safely keep kiting the War Chief.
Santi watched as another fighter was bisected cleanly at the waist as the War Chief roared in joy. The ring of people grew thinner as people’s nerves broke, beginning to flee as the War Chief seemed to be unkillable.
“Douse that fucker!” Tank’s voice boomed out behind Santi. On the opposite side of the ring from him Santi saw three people holding gas cans. They needed an opening to do their work and Santi was going to give it to them.
“HEY!” Santi screamed as he stabbed through the monster’s kneecap. His saber got stuck as the War Chief screamed in agony. Santi abandoned the blade and leapt back and rolled over the top of dead goblins as the greatsword hit where he had just been standing.
Santi came to his feet, drenched in a mix of body fluids just to see the War Chief marching toward him with murder in his eyes. Santi was leading the chief out of the ring as it chased him while ignoring all those who tried to stop it. Fear spiked through Santi, breaking the haze he was in.
Paulie raced forward with his pipe gleaming in the dawn's rays. A vicious smile stretched across his face as he brought the heavy lead pipe down with a resounding clang that covered the crunch of a kneecap breaking. Paulie disappeared.
Red Mist.
Santi screamed, his throat raw as he stared at the remnants of where his roommate had been. Tears burned his eyes as he watched the three blurry figures douse the kneeling War Chief. People scattered away, giving room as Tank came forward to stand next to Santi.
“Burn him, Santi.” Tank whispered, handing over the road flare while glaring at the kneeling troll-kin. The hiss of the flare igniting was as if he heard it from a long distance, muted and muffled. He walked toward the growling monster. It glared at Santi, its eyes the only organ visible underneath the armor and blood. The broken saber was still lodged in its knee, the hilt lying amongst the dead. Its bloody greatsword was wedged into the ground as the War Chief tried to get back to its feet.
Santi tossed the flare lazily and watched as the gas ignited in a blue-red rush. Activating Gust, Santi focused his will to force the spell to obey him. Instead of an overpowering rush of air he kept a gentle breeze that fed the inferno in front of him. The smell of cooking meat dominated the area as the War Chief screamed while Santi watched impassively.