IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 16C: THE BLACK CENTURIONS

January 19th, 2008
The 6th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Congratulations rained down on Dominic. Agnarr pounded him on the back with his blood-slicked hand. (Prompting Dominic to give him something of an uncertain look.)

With jubilance still in the air, Tee went back to work on the door. She quickly had it unlocked and Agnarr stepped forward to swing it open.

Beyond the door there was, as they had suspected, a short hallway that emptied out into the room with the pool. (The glowgems from that large chamber were casting their eery silvery light down the length of the hall.) But there were also four other hallways heading off in perpendicular directions.

They proceeded cautiously: Heading to the first intersection, Tee looked both left and right. She discovered two antechambers similar to those in which they had found the black cords and broken machinery… only these were occupied.

In each of the small rooms, a humanoid construct of pitch black metal was suspended from an elaborate half-cocoon of complicated machinery that hung from the wall. Each construct was utterly featureless – their faces flat black planes. And, Tee realized, the constructs were actually hovering inside their cocoons – the only connection a slack black cord that plugged into the back of their necks.

Ranthir had never seen anything like them. In fact, even the metal from which they were crafted defied his ken. He moved into the room on the left to take a closer look. Tee and Agnarr positioned themselves in the room across the hall, keeping a nervous eye on the construct there. Elestra and Tor stayed back in the torture chamber, but Dominic came down and stood in the hall between the two rooms – looking towards each in turn.

Unfortunately, no one went to check on the next set of hallways. There had been a cursory discussion, but the decision was made that they should make sure that these first two chambers were secure before attempting to advance. But the next hallway was only ten feet away, and so there was little or no warning when one of the black centurions suddenly raced around the corner with seemingly preternatural and silent speed.

Dominic caught the flash of movement from the corner of his eye and whirled in time to see the centurion’s arm transforming – literally melding itself into a long, pointed spear. He stumbled back and opened his mouth to cry out, but then the creature was upon him. The spear flashed out towards his abdomen, and Dominic only barely managed to turn aside so that the blow ripped into his flesh instead of disemboweling him completely.

Dominic retreated. The centurion pursued, its arm transforming again – this time into a sword that hacked down mercilessly towards Dominic’s head. Dominic cringed before the blow—

And then Tor was there, catching the blow on his blade, parrying it aside, and then pressing the attack. A grateful Dominic scurried past Tor and back into the torture chamber, taking up a position beside Elestra.

Agnarr, who had whirled even as his sharp ears caught Dominic’s sudden intake of panicked breath, burst into the hallway at the same instant. With a ferocious cry – “FOR THE GLORY!” – he threw himself at the construct. The centurion – finding itself suddenly flanked by Agnarr and Tor – exploded into a flurry of action, striking left and right at dizzying speed.

Tor took a solid blow that caught on his armor and smashed the wind out of him, but Agnarr seized the moment and brought his flaming greatsword down upon the construct’s back – tearing a great gash into the black metal.

… and then, with a look of shock on his face, Agnarr watched as the flame of his sword was literally sucked out of the blade. The centurion’s left arm – which had now joined the right in the form of a blade – suddenly burst into flame itself. Agnarr’s sword felt heavier and clumsier, but the construct was moving faster and more nimbly.

Tee, meanwhile, had slipped out into the hallway behind Agnarr and headed down to the next intersection to check on the other room. Her worst fear was now confirmed: There was a fourth construct there… and it was beginning to move.

“There’s another one! It’s moving!”

Agnarr grimaced and redoubled his efforts against the construct. He and Tor struck it again and again and again… but no matter how many times their swords smashed into its sides, the construct didn’t seem to be slowing down.

Then, suddenly, the centurion whirled on Agnarr, using both its blades to catch his sword and then punch it away. In that moment, Tor might have been able to strike it… but the moment passed, and the construct whirled around and both blades flashed towards Tor.

Tor managed to parry one of them… but not both. The other plunged into his chest, collapsing his left lung. Blood bubbled to his lips and the black oblivion of senselessness claimed him.

Meanwhile, the centurion which Ranthir had been examining had also begun to move… and he was trapped with it by the furious melee being fought in the hall outside.

Tee, meanwhile, had fallen back to the hall. The fourth centurion dropped from its cocoon and advanced on her – its arms transforming into long, wicked spears that gleamed in the silvery light.

She parried once… twice… a third time… And then she was being forced back, step by step, up the hall towards Agnarr.

“Agnarr! I need help!”

But Agnarr – sweat beading on his forehead – couldn’t break away from the centurion in front of him. He knew what would happen if he did: Either it would pursue him and take him from behind. Or, worse yet, it would turn upon Elestra and Dominic.

All Agnarr could do was redouble his efforts: Try to find some moment of weakness. Try to inflict so much damage that the thing before him could no longer function.

And then – finally! – the moment came. Agnarr was able to catch both of the centurion’s blades with his sword and force them to one side. Then, whirling in place, he plunged his sword straight through the gash he had opened earlier in its side and pushed with all his strength.

The centurion’s movements came to a sudden, jarring stop. The blades, which had been swinging back towards Agnarr, stopped only a few scant inches from his head. Agnarr’s sword burst back into flame.

But the moment had come too late—

“AGNARR!” Tee cried. The centurion before her whipped past her defenses, hobbling her leg. Then struck again at her arm. The blows were a flurry now and she was—

Agnarr turned in time to see the centurion’s black spear protruding from the center of Tee’s back.

“TEE!” Fury boiling in his blood, Agnarr bounded forward and rained blows of hatred down on the centurion’s body. It parried them expertly, turning them aside and then pressing the attack back on the barbarian.

Worse yet, Agnarr was suddenly enveloped in a black cloud of caustic acid – the centurion he had felled had sublimated away, just like the hand they had found earlier. The thick, burning fog blinded him – but seemed to have no effect on the centurion, whose blows nicked his arms and sent streams of blood running down over his biceps.

Ranthir, too, had been caught by the cloud. He stumbled back several steps, emerging from the cloud only to see – to his horror – that the second centurion had dropped from his cocoon. A single, sharp blow from a sword-like arm cut Ranthir down where he stood.

The second centurion now emerged into the hall directly behind Agnarr. And, although the black cloud was quickly dissipating, the barbarian’s plight was dire. The flame had once again been drained from his sword. The blood from his arms was running down onto the palms of his hands, making them treacherously slick… and now he was forced to fight an almost purely defensive battle in both directions.

Black spots were swimming before his eyes, and all he could think about was stopping the centurions from turning on Dominic and Elestra. With one last burst of his strength he drove his greatsword against one of the centurions. The construct blocked his attack, but the sheer force of the blow slammed it back into the wall.

Agnarr struck a second time and then a third – each mighty blow crushing the centurion between his blade of steel and the relentless wall of stone. He paid for his ferocity as the centurion behind him cut deep into his exposed back, but he had won: The centurion before him was battered into submission.

And then it sublimated away into the black cloud of acid. Agnarr stumbled back. He tried to whirl to face the last remaining centurion. But the pain was too much. His legs failed him. He fell heavily to the floor and, as he lost consciousness, there was only one thought in his mind:

He had failed.

A FIGHTING RETREAT

But Agnarr’s last stand had bought Dominic time. As the furious melee was being waged, the priest had scurried down the hallway to where Tor lay, slowly dying. He murmured prayers over the body and focused the divine energy of his faith, so that – even as Agnarr fell – the breath of fresh life was filling Tor’s lungs.

The last remaining centurion stalked out of the black cloud like a grim reaper, its right arm bathed in the magical fire it had stolen from Agnarr’s sword.

They fell back before it. Reaching the doorway leading back to the torture room, Tor stopped. He knew that, with its uncanny speed, the thing could easily flank him in the open space of the room, and he couldn’t risk the possibility that it would go after Elestra and Dominic.

So he held his ground while Dominic and Elestra scrambled back towards the prison hall. His wounds – not fully healed by Dominic’s holy strength – ached, but he held. And then, once Dominic and Elestra had gained some distance, he began to fall back again until he, too, was in the prison hall.

Tor was shouting for them to run – perhaps, if he could stop it long enough, they would be able to escape.

Dominic eyed the far end of the hall nervously, but Elestra wouldn’t even consider it. She raised her crossbow and waited… waited for a moment that she could only hope would come.

And then the opening was there: Tor lurched to the side, dodging a wicked thrust and simultaneously driving his sword into the creature’s side. Elestra pulled her trigger. The crossbow bolt flew true – striking the centurion in the middle of its blank face and driving its head back. Tor, coming back to his feet, swung with all his might at the construct’s exposed neck.

The sword cut through, decapitating the centurion.

Tor pivoted on his heels and dove down the length of the hall. The caustic death cloud of the centurion pursued him – painfully burning the backs of his legs. But he escaped the worst of it, and when the cloud, after what seemed like endless moments, finally dissipated they were able to return to the antechambers and tend to their wounded.

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