Guardians Upon the Shore
Seventh Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
Armor creaked and gravel crunched underfoot as Ser Kennos of Kayce breathed in the cold night air. The arcane metal didn't even
smell like iron, nary a hint of rust, even the polish smelled of fresh spring herbs more than the faintly rancid oils even the most dutiful of knights had to learn to ignore eventually. Then Lady Leila tapped him on the shoulder, giving him some kind of magic blessing that made the air around him ripple with subtle sorcery, and then another that rang like a clarion call in his mind before doing the same for Ser Roger.
"I wish we had some sort of veiling magic," the other knight groused as he hefted his great mace gleaming black in the moonlight. How he was planning to sneak up on anything with that great man-killer of a weapon only the Lord of Light knew.
"It's unlikely we could creep up unseen on one of the Deep Ones with only the simplest of veils, and if you would wish for the greater ones than you might as well wish for a Companion to kill that thing," Wisdom Weaver replied as she closed her eyes to summon her own strange magics.
"Well, I for one do not wish for a Companion," the little blue dragon-fey said. "They would steal all the glory and I can go proper unseen just fine, see?" With these words she vanished again from sight.
"No, I don't," Kennos chuckled. There was something strangely comfortable about an ally who approached the prospect of battle with the same carefree curiosity she gave the idea of morning tea.
With these last words the two knights nodded at each other and stepped past to the edge of the boulder they had been hiding behind, pebbles tumbling down the slope to the shore from there passing.
"For the Dragon!" the two Westerlanders shouted, their war cries drowning out the the monster as it spoke and even the sound of the sea behind him as the captain cried out in shock and fear, triying to scramble for the boarding axe at his side.
The thing made no sound, nor was there any fear upon its hideous bronze visage. Instead, Kennos heard it slithering into his mind like black magots. "
And here I thought I would have to look for my meal tonight. My thanks for the sacrifice of giving yourselves to me." The most horrifying part of those words, enough to pass even through the haze of battle, was that they did not feel like a threat or some black jest, it felt
sincere.
Thunder roared around the thing as Lady Leila loosed her magic, but it stood unmoved like a rock in a gale, a bolt of boiling fire splashed against it, but it slid off with not a single scorch mark.
Lord of Light give me strength to carry the torch given to me, Kennos prayed silently and he felt the will of R'hllor fill him with more strength than any spell. Golden light raced up the edge of his sword as he raised it to strike the misshapen head from the thing's shoulders, but in an almost lazy motion the Deep One waved one of its swords and the air around it twisted unnaturally, turning the blow aside as hungry black flames kindled upon his other blade, a brand torn free from hell's own heart.
But as the Deep One's eyes were fixed on Kennos' sword Roger's mace thundered down upon the creature's arm, bruising unnaturally soft flesh and the stolen bone beneath it. There was no pain in its dreadful 'voice', only a sort of cold glee.
"I see you have brought her... good."
A formless grey hole seemed to open in the air behind the monster and it began to fall backwards.
It was going after Jeyne, Kennos realized. Ser Roger's hammer smashed down again with more desperation that skill, turned aside by magic, but this time Kennos' fury would not be turned aside. Valyrian steel bit through the twisted magic and into the flesh of the monster's shoulder, ending the spell before it had been fully cast. To add insult to injury the fey dragon's chirping filled the air and the black fire blade slipped from the foe's grip, with a little help from Lady Leila do judge from the lurch in Kennos' stomach that heralded fate unwound.
Alas that the other sword was no less deadly, the bronze slipping through the joints of Kennos' armor with impossible swiftness and speed.
It was like fighting Ser Lonmouth, a small panicked voice in the back of his mind noted.
No, if you were fighting Ser Lonmouth you would be dead already, another part of him added in a rather unhelpful counterpoint to add to agony under his arm.
Why was everything getting blurry?
Poison or some curse on the sword, the knight realized grimly, wondering if he was about to meet R'hllor so soon after finding his faith. Then another bolt of magic arced overhead and the monster's head caught fire, bronze boiling upon it, a smell like charred fish filling the air.
"You presume... much... little... toy," rage black as the ocean's depths filled the Deep One's words as it began to motion again to work its far-striding magic.
Then the black hammer of Ser Roger Reyne smashed into the side of its head, making the soft bronze ring like a bell and the foe crumple to a heap.
OOC: Since I know you guys are going to ask everyone besides Leila, who just got a level on her last important fight, levels up from this. That was a 10th level Ilithid Psychic Warrior. It had very good odds of grabbing Jeyne and running off with her, or even killing one of the knights if it had both swords and the power it invested into the attack, before a Grease spell got in the way.
