Sally Forth; It’s a Hero’s Horizon.

Sally Forth; It’s a Hero’s Horizon

I’ve talked about Dungeon & Dragon’s 4^th edition before, about how I tried to give it a fair shake but at the end of the day it just wasn’t as enjoyable to me. And there is no shame in that, it was a different kind of game, one some still enjoy while others did not. Absolutely nothing wrong with that.

But without getting into the whole can of worms I’d like to take a step forward past 4^th to talk a little about the final D&D Next Playtest Packet. I know there are still those who decry and ridicule it for the very point that it isn’t 4^th edition, calling it a failure, lacking innovation and little more than a bland throw back to bygone editions. And they are entitled to their opinion. It’s as simple as that.

The underlying truth though is that Next has been shaped from the ground up to fill a hole among fans, to reach down and find the pulsing primal core of the game and breathe new life into it. Things were seen from the vantage point of those behind the scenes that needed addressing, so they are; to ensure years of enjoyable entertainment to come.

And I for one am excited by everything I can see. Time will tell for sure though, so we’ll all have to wait and see where this course will take us. But in the mean time let me highlight a few of the things that stood out to me;

• Simplicity as a strength – Everything presented speaks to the very heart of the game. From the brilliant advantage/disadvantage mechanic all the way to the base math itself things are fun and functional.
• Flexibility without losing focus – Classes have been reduced to their core premise while showing that there are still options to stand them out from themselves. Rangers are done right; Druids are not just a player and his obligatory pet, while Clerics have access to ranged attack magic as well as healing.
• Flavor and fun – Most importantly everything looks fun. You have Rangers who can shoot arrows with nature spells like Hail of Thorns to rain down a shower of sharp spikes from your projectile. Bards who can inspire everyone to victory. Paladins who champion good and can summon up that power to smite, sending radiant power right into their blows. Thematically everything feels right, nothing feels like a repeat. No matter what edition you started with or prefer what you find here will be familiar.
• Versatile and Proficient – New elements shine a pleasant twist on some old characteristics. Take some of the most classic weapons in the game like long swords, quarterstaffs and the like. They have always been staple gear for various iconic heroes and always been useable with one or both hands. Now you can take advantage of some weapons with the versatile trait to wield two handed for a die step up in damage! A long sword’s d8 becomes a d10, meaning the weapons truly become more versatile. And a stunningly simple approach in the form of proficiency handles so much so well. A scaling proficiency bonus provides a key component to replace base attack, saving throw, etc. Proficient with that weapon? Great, add your bonus to the proper stat on your attack roll. Not good with that great axe you snatched up to protect yourself? Sorry, no bonus for you, it’s just you and your strength to deal with your own disadvantage. Easy to figure, easy to implement and feels balanced so far.
• Modular Mages – The Wizard has long since been the default spell caster within the game. However other magic users have come along the way like warlocks, necromancers, etc. The way Mages are presented it would be easy to implement such other themed traditions under the Mage heading without having to recreate the wheel each time. Which also opens the way for a primer to pave the way for player/DM’s to create custom subtypes to fit their own games.
• Multi-class, multiple alignments – A welcome sight was the inclusion of rules for cross classing into other classes. Want to play noble knight of the realm who secretly studies the arcane arts? As long as he has the appropriate attributes (i.e. – he’s smart enough for his lessons) he can do just that. To further add options the 9 alignments are back, meaning that depending on the theme of your story the heroes can run the gamut of saints to villains. Dark anti-heroes, self-centered alcoholics, anything you could consider playing.
• So much room for growth – As a foundation this material looks to me to be a great basis for growth, adaption, and expansion. There isn’t a lot of clutter, everything is condensed to its core elements and so much room exists for building onto.

There is still far more to take in and digest, too much to get into here. And some aspects I can’t really comment on without testing out further. But I can easily say nothing in the materials prompt a single moment of rageface, an ounce of disdain or any disappointment. Only excitement and hope for what is to come.

A Latch Perspective.

A Latch Perspective

Sometimes it is the simplest of things that can really make us take the time to stop and smile. Take a common ordinary door latch, for example. Without a way to latch a door closed you might have a bathroom without privacy. Now even a little hook and eye latch – perhaps one of the least mechanically complicated devices known to man can remedy such a problem. And it isn’t hard to install or operate. It is the very example of a basic fix.

See about a year or so back we ran into a problem, the door to one of our bathrooms (the only one with a door as a matter of fact) busted on us. To be precise the door knob’s internal mechanism failed and left the bolt stuck in place preventing the door from being opened. At which point I had two macho options available; bust down the door or systematically dismantle the door knob and remove the mechanism. I went with the latter.

Later I managed to rig up a workaround for a time before eventually settling on adding a simple latch to the door. To replace the entire door knob would have required not only new parts but work to the wall and door as well to accommodate it. Trailers aren’t designed for easy repairs or standard replacement parts.

In short I fixed the problem using my hands, some stuff that was handy and basic hand tools. I check it every time I use it to ensure it hasn’t backed out or anything else. Some folks might put it out of mind until there is a problem but maybe I’m just wired weird. Anyhow, with my recent wrist trouble I had been concerned about potentially not being as able to fix things in the future. But looking at that latch made me realize how stupid that train of thought could be. Instead of worrying over what might be a problem, my perspective needed to be shifted. I had fixed that door, it wasn’t masterful – but it worked.

Therein lies the secret; sometimes you latch your perspective closed, you blind yourself. And a latch isn’t a complicated thing; you can fix it if there is a problem. It’s all in how you look at it.

All Ahead One-Third.

So yesterday I broke down and agreed to go for a visit to the emergency room about my wrist. For those of you not married allow me to translate; I wisely chose the option of being taken by my lovely wife instead of some less favorable alternatives. In short - my wrist has been killing me and it has only been getting worse. Even trying to care for it at home.

What my little visit did grant me was some understanding, a couple prescriptions and a rather effective brace. To be clear I am confined to ONLY using my left hand. So for now much of my daily routine is shifting, and may continue to do so. In about a week I have to try and get a referral to an orthopedic surgeon to consider the next step in treatment - namely injections to try and directly reduce swelling/inflammation. Barring that it's surgery for carpal tunnel then.

So for the time being I am going to carry on ahead, even at reduced speed to finish refining Gauntlet for release as an ebook and see where things go from there. I apologize to anyone who might have visited recently looking for new stories and the like, given time I hope to return to full speed. In the last few weeks I have come to accept that it is far better to rein things in now than to risk a future without the ability to continue doing so much of what I love.

Wish me luck, and all the patience I can manage, something tells me I am going to need all I can get. I hope Gauntlet will prove just as enjoyable as some of my other works so far. And in the meantime let me know what you think about any of my stories so far, I would love to hear any feedback on them.

A Word On Wrists.

A Word on Wrists

My whole life I can honestly say has been spent devoid of any merit of muscle. To be frank, despite any efforts to the contrary I quite simply have never been known for my physical prowess. In fact, it can easily be attested by any number of those who have ever known me that even when I was engaged in sports or other activities of my youth did I ever distinguish myself. Basically the best I can ever claim is a tireless tenacity, appreciative attempt and perhaps a passable skill.

Now, it can also be said that I didn’t shirk from sports either. Growing up I spent my summers playing baseball, while switching to basketball and football during the school year. Over time I slowly began to step back and did take up bowling instead. I was even enrolled in gymnastics and karate for a time. But alas, as I grew older I found less and less pleasure in such things.

Perhaps it could be argued that my lack of innate ability colored my view about such activities, or it could possibly be said that my shifting focus towards my academic pursuits pulled me away. Either explanation is equally within reason I suppose. However neither is really the point of the matter currently.

What is at issue is something else entirely, a matter some people might not even think about much. Actually, I can regretfully admit it is something I recall in passing having heard about briefly but was rather ignorant of.  You might laugh but it is your wrists oddly enough.

Now, it is one of the first things some people say when they hear that you are suffering with a problem affecting your wrists that you simply work at your computer too much. Things like Carpal Tunnel and the like get mentioned and typically it is generally assumed you must have caused your current condition somehow.

But, you see, here is my problem with that whole train of thought. It isn’t simply a concern for those of the computer-oriented persuasion. Nor is Carpal Tunnel and other such medical misfortunes something that is only suffered by those crafting code or skilled secretaries. As an example I can offer my own father; a man who until recently virtually never even used a computer or the like. However he has worked for years in the labor industry; using his hands and body if you care to be blunt, on a daily basis. And he has had somewhere around 3-4 or more surgeries on his wrist alone.

Why is this even something worth talking about you might be wondering, and I don’t blame you if you’ve asked yourself that very question. For me it has become a rather recent topic for contemplation. You see, in the last week or so I have found myself dealing with some trouble with my right wrist and it has become something that has worried me. And with such consideration it has inevitably lead to me reviewing a series of events that I had always shrugged off.

I write on a daily basis, or at least try to anyways. Currently it has been centered on me trying to edit and refine my latest little story; Gauntlet. Now, most of my tinkering with the tale has just been some rewording here and there to be fair. But I have done some rewriting where needed too. However, I have also been wearing an old wrist support and trying to limit how much I make use of my right hand to be cautious.

Writing though isn’t the only thing I do. I also do the dishes, work on the laundry, and occasionally try to fix something electronic, electrical or any number of other things around the house when I am able to. In short, I don’t just set and type away for long hours on end. And even though I don’t make use of a traditional computer desk ( my pc setup consists of a monitor on a end table beside my recliner with the tower tucked neatly beside it in my living room) I do consciously make it a point to watch how I hold my wrists when typing etc.

But I cannot disregard the fact that for a long time when I was working and putting myself through college that I did in fact a lot of work with my hands. And before that I had hobbies that also included a lot of use of my hands as well. I have never been the hulking handyman who strains his back heaving about loads. But in contrast I have always been the little guy who crawls into, around or under something and spends long stretches working on things with tool in hand.

I think what I may be rambling my way towards is the point that all this type of work over time may have had a strain on my body that I never really noticed before. When a sharp pain might spring up my forearm like a sudden shock I merely ruled it our as a result of working with my arms above me for too long. Or when I had to shake my hand and wrist out to remove a tingling tidal wave it was just from my hand getting tired from gripping my tools.

Whatever the reason or self-sold explanation I never stopped to consider the long term effects. Now some may argue that a family predisposition might be involved that has my own anatomy at fault, and that very well could be. I can’t rule that out at all, but one thing I think anyone can take from this is not to ignore your body in any way. It doesn’t matter how big or how buff you may be, or aren’t; pay attention to what you are doing and how you are doing it. If you’re picking something up without lifting with you legs because you’re stubborn enough to think you can just power through it you may be hurting yourself. And if you’re just doing something as seemingly innocent as playing a video game each day for a bit while your wrist lazily hangs askew from its grip on your mouse you might be dooming yourself to discomfort.

I’m no expert on the matter, far from it. I used to do the little stretches and things before my shift at work or when warming up before a practice. I recall vaguely hearing some bits and pieces mentioned here and there about the dangers of Carpal Tunnel, Tendonitis and other things but was basically ignorant. I mean I knew what not to do and that it was a problem but as far as symptoms to watch out for or what it really was – not so much.

And right now I haven’t seen my doc yet so I can’t even say that it or anything of the sort is even my problem. I could have strained/pulled something putting a stack of dishes up or any number of things. But now I am trying to educate myself better and take a serious look at such health concerns even if they seem trivial. Because later down the road they could become worse, and if treated early perhaps prevented.

So, take care of your hands and wrists folks. You use them to interact with your surroundings far more than you realize. Try not to take them for granted.

Gauntlet - Episode 32.

Episode 32 – Red Bull Rage

Sitting alone along a crudely crafted bench, Adrian Taurus’s bulky body radiated grave peril to anyone who dared to interrupt him. To the casual observer one might have found humor in the notion that such a notorious crime-boss could be caught in his spare time idly enjoying any manner of civilized entertainment. Nevertheless, there he sat; knee deep in thought playing a tactical game of tiles with only his self to provide both player and opponent.

The sound of rhythmic clattering footsteps approaching didn’t even merit a single flinch from his focus as he contemplated the next move to be made. But once the sound stopped and a female voice spoke a tensing of tendons flexed instantly in response. “We have some things to discuss, you and me,” Demure Devadonna began boldly.

Several steps ahead, Adrian already anticipated where this conversation was bound to lead and he didn’t like it at all. If it was good news, well, that would have been delivered with some manner of celebratory grace and expectations of reward. Even if there had been a slight stumbling; word would have been refrained from reaching him for a short time yet before he was informed through alternative channels. No, without a doubt if this dramatic damsel was the messenger then this information was sure to leave a terrible taste on his tongue.

“Spill it,” Taurus ordered impatiently. “Just get on with it and skip this play at skirting the subject before you no longer have the fortune of my attention.” Adrian’s eyes never left the board before him as he continued to systematically move and remove the various tiled pieces along either side. With each passing beat of her pulse, Demure found herself starting to tremble as she watched the plastic parts beginning to move slightly faster from the hex shaped game.

“I have just been informed that Arbiter and Dyzon are both dead, sir,” she shakily submitted. “Eris has been taken into custody and just prior to these events the wanted outlaw known as Gauntlet gunned down both Wynt and Briscole in the street.” A violent force detonated the table in front of Taurus, shock seizing Demure as she tried to rationalize what was happening before her. As she watched on, her mind recoiled from the savage display while Taurus tore everything about him to kindling.

The Red Bull’s rage was a legendary thing among the underworld; it was spoken of with nothing but complete terror by those who feared they might earn his wrath. And now here she sat as Adrian Taurus demolished anything within sight. Even the very bench he had been sitting on was flung through the air to explode in a shower of shrapnel against a stone wall.

“Incompetent, worthless sacks of wasted flesh,” Taurus growled between snorts and snarls. “One single man, one blind fool and not any of you could manage to deal with this disruptive drifter? Clearly I have over estimated the talents of the lot of you! I should have strangled you all myself instead of giving you a chance to be of use.”

Growling, Taurus turned his eye burning bright red as his frenzy overflowed. “I’ll have your hide for this, and then I’ll get this Gauntlet in my grip. His skull will shatter ever so sweetly for trying to topple me.” A scream swept straight from Demure’s mouth before a steady stream of frantic pleading followed.

“Please, I beg you, grant me the opportunity to regroup; I am sure I can repay this rogue for the both of us! He will hurt for all that he has done. I promise you, this Gauntlet will pay dearly – I owe him for Ashes, and as Mayor who else is left to keep control of your public interests? He can’t dare touch me! I can deliver him to you, I swear it, and he’ll be handed down here to you in a heartbeat.”

The fury faded, if only slightly from Taurus as he still shook from the avalanche of adrenaline. “Rook has taken up the mantle left by Arbiter, I am sure that he will blindly try to enforce the letter of the law. He’s probably already taking the vigilante into custody to send him down to The Graveyard.” Demure desperately continued to convince the undisputed overlord of the underworld of her remaining worth. She wasn’t sure that her argument was being altogether successful.  

Taurus allowed his anger to abate a little more as he enjoyed the elevated racing rate his pulse still thundered through him. His mind was already calculating various elements to the petite politician’s claims. The sidekick turned Sheriff just might make his first act one of arresting the only real outlaw left. And with the other known criminals dead or behind bars what need would there be for a gun slinging guardian? It definitely held merit, he had to admit.

“Alright,” Adrian breathed out the word with a harsh huff to punctuate his point. “But we will not again have such a conversation. Fail me once more and you will find yourself earning a deserved and deadly reward.” Crimson still colored his eyes as he grinned with a grim glee. “Go now, bring me this Gauntlet so that I might provide him with a likewise punishment he seems so fond of.”

Demure didn’t need to be told twice; on hearing the order to take her leave she did so in a shameless sprint. There was work to be done, and she still couldn’t believe how she had just avoided the Red Bull’s rage. Even if it was narrowly – second chances were almost unheard of from Taurus. The fear that she only had been given the illusion of mercy didn’t help alleviate her worries either. She could only hope that shortly this drifter would be safely deposited beneath the dirt, and this whole bleak business would be behind them. Surely placing this Gauntlet down into The Graveyard would put an end to everything, right?

Gauntlet - Episode 31.

Episode 31 – New Sheriff, New Plan

Without a single whispered word, Marshall set himself into recovering his beloved bullet-slingers. One by one he reloaded each empty cylinder slot with a quiet click as it turned. When finally he spoke, it was the somber voice of seriousness, his head still cast down at the gun in his hand.

“Where are the rest of them,” Marshall asked suddenly. “Tell me, right now – if you truly do wish for any manner of sympathy; where are the rest of your friends.” A twinge of concern shook Rook’s conscience awake as he began to worry where Marshall might be going with this. Even a criminal, once caught was subject to the right to face the law not be executed on the spot.

“Whoa, easy there ‘slinger,” Rook pleaded, his hands held before him. “Let’s simmer it down a notch a tick, alright?” Marshall made no move, his hat’s brim still cloaking his face in shadow. “If you’re asking about the other two; the Ursian and the Uraor – they split out the back as I was making my way inside. I think it is safe to say we don’t have to worry ourselves over them; we have the leaders of both gangs. One dead, the other in custody and we have removed a corrupt official from power. Isn’t that enough bloodshed for one night?”

Some distracting thought seemed to distance the grim drifter as he reached down to examine the crimson stained corpse of what only moments ago had been the Sheriff of Redemption. With his left hand he casually plucked up the blood slick badge that dangled from a scrap of cloth and held it up just enough to let the light catch it. The small shield had once been a symbol of authority, of the promise to protect. Now it was little more than a sullied trinket in his eyes.

“The town will be needing a new man for the job I should imagine,” Marshall mused, his tone still hollow and out of place. “I can’t think of anyone better for the job,” Rook admitted, a sincere smile joining the remark. But when Marshall looked up his eyes met the prismatic purple of Rook’s own and the Deputy knew full well that Marshall had never meant himself.

“Neither can I,” the deadly drifter declared and tossed the badge towards him. Rook easily caught it in his hand and regarded it, wiping clear some of the gore with his thumb. “I don’t know what to say,” he stammered shortly, working to find the words he wanted to say. “Not sure I even know how to do the job,” he confessed finally.

“You’ll do fine, trust me; I am great judge of character.” Rising once more, Marshall holstered his gun and looked from the stunned new Sheriff to the wounded warrior woman. “It is easier than you think; all you have to do is what you know is the right thing. Enforce the laws, keep your head and do your best. Just try not to forget two very simple things; justice may not always come from a judge and if you stray from the straight and narrow – you can find yourself facing a Gauntlet.”

The last comment, Rook couldn’t ignore, it made him curious and caused questions to come to mind. “What will you do now, where will you go?” Now with both of the rival bands of bandits no longer a threat to the town, there wasn’t really anything to keep Gauntlet here in Redemption. Could such a man as Marshall Lawson settle down though?

“There are others who are responsible for the problems here, those who think they are beyond punishment for the pain they cause. I think its time they discover how mistaken they truly are,” Marshall explained. “If you mean Adrian Taurus, I am sorry, but even you cannot reach him. Where he is, nobody ever comes back from; we’re talking as far down as you can go – the end of the line and just beyond. Taurus is a permanent resident of The Graveyard, he is practically already buried.”

“Well then,” Marshall announced with a chuckle. “Perhaps it is high time that I managed to get myself back into prison.” Rook had been certain that nothing else Marshall said could have surprised him by this point. After everything else they had been through, surly he was accustomed by now to the man’s madness. And then there was this; which he couldn’t honestly say which was more unbelievable – the fact he wanted to be sent down to The Graveyard or the fact that at some point he had already been on the opposite side of barred walls.

“You know, you really are a few shots shy of a full load,” Rook exclaimed. “If you get sent down there then there is no coming back, nobody to protect you. Do you understand that?” Marshall raised one eyebrow and a glowing gleam in his eye made the new Sheriff stop his speech suddenly.

“That is what makes it perfect,” Marshall countered. “There will be no one to get in my way, no one to protect him, and no where else for him to run. The man thinks himself safe in his castle, in the one place everybody believes has him kept from causing any more harm. He is hiding there, and enjoying complete absence from any manner of suspicion whatsoever. Its time for that to end I think.”

“If you ask me, you are only signing your death warrant,” Rook replied, echoing his reservations with the idea. “No worries in that regards, I know the perfect professional for the task should the need arise.” Marshall laughed once more at the mention of the macabre maiden, and Rook couldn’t refrain from enjoying the joke as well. “There is just no talking sense into you is there,” he had to ask. Still laughing Marshall easily answered with another whip of whit. “Nope and there is no beating sense into me either. Others have tried, and failed – thick hide and thicker skull I’m afraid.”

Gauntlet - Episode 30.

Episode 30 – Tarnished Badges

“This has to be some kind of nightmare, even for Newport,” Arbiter spat bitterly. The whole situation had spiraled out of control and looked to be rapidly rushing into the realm of absolute chaos. “How is it that of the two of you neither one could handle a single stranger?”

His question had almost the same impact as a braided leather whip as it stung both Eris and Dyzon’s wounded pride about as well. Already the unusual Uraor had been on edge ever since they had been contacted by her robbing rival, demanding they set up a meeting. Eris would have liked nothing more than to take out every frustration she felt in a furious frenzy directed his way. But even she could see the folly in such temperamental tactics.

As for the Bloody Bachelor himself, he consoled himself with the constant reminder that there was still a likely chance Eris could be caught at the unfortunate end of this Gauntlet guy’s guns. Taurus couldn’t possibly fault him for that one, if it just happened to occur. Could he? The Red Bull was notorious difficult to predict when it came to how he might respond to some things. Which was precisely why Dyzon desperately wanted to walk away from this whole ordeal as soon as possible, he could almost feel the breath of hounds hunting him at the nape of his neck. The thought made him shiver despite himself.

“Like you have done any better,” Eris was the first to snarl back in an avalanche of anger. “You’ve not managed to stop this dangerous drifter either,” she challenged. “And you’re the shiny shield who is supposed to keep things like this from even becoming a problem. Instead you let the man just walk off the Titan Train and into town without so much as bothering to even search him. Then all of a sudden we have a violent vigilante on the loose and the only authority in town’s great idea to handle the situation is a fancy speech. While we are dying in the streets at the hands of some campaigning crusader you are rallying sheep.”

“I don’t think I appreciate your tone much,” Arbiter automatically snapped in response. “Besides, while I have danced about to keep everything going smoothly all this time it wasn’t me who failed so miserably. Both of you two had him outnumbered and both of you came up on the short end if you recall.”

“Don’t you dare lump me in with her,” Dyzon chimed in, a growing agitation of his own building. “She only sent 3 piles of scrap to the heap; I had to send two flesh and blood men to the Digger Doll. The guy just got lucky is all, simple as that. However, if you had been bothered to warn us just how dangerous this man was it might have been different. For that matter it never should have happened in the first place if you’d simply done what you were paid to and arrested this fool.”

Arbiter opened his mouth to defend himself with another verbal volley, but a loud series of shattering sounds stopped him. “Dirty diamonds, what is that racket,” he cursed. The sinister Sheriff spun to face the fragmented frame of what was the warehouse’s doorway while suspicions were slung about behind him.

“This is some kind of trick,” Eris accused, using her finger to level a blow of blame towards the Bloody Bachelor. Simultaneously he snapped a slung shout her way as well. “You idiot, you have lead him straight to us!” Marshall’s bellowed bravado carried its way through the air to only further infuriate the battling bandits.

Arbiter immediately felt a surge of sadistic glee as he watched this hero walking through the doorway without a single weapon in hand. “You have a lot of guts, I’ll give you that Mister,” the Sheriff said with a smile. “But you have just reached the end of your rope; you just don’t know it yet.” Behind his back, he already had a gun in hand. This was going to be so easy, and so very enjoyable.

“Draw,” Arbiter roared, his voice resonating like a struck gong. He twisted with a jerk and swung his already drawn weapon before him to fire. In his excitement, he misjudged his aim – the Sheriff hadn’t had to engage in a gunfight in quite some time. Arbiter had allowed himself to become rather rusty, and now he regretted it.

In a fluid motion, Marshall pulled both pistols and took aim. He had been a hair faster on the draw than the Sheriff, but had opted for a well placed shot instead of a wild one. It was a decision he was delighted by the outcome when a blazing beam flew past him. Two hammer falls rang in response as he sent a pair of shots back. One slammed home into the Sheriff’s upper chest near his shoulder and sent him stumbling. The other burned its way into his gut sending a wave of sickness through him, and stealing his breath.

“Some friendly advice; doesn’t matter much if you can out draw another man and can’t hit what you aim for.” Marshall watched as the Sheriff let his gun fall to the floor, free from his grasp. Struggling fro breath his hands grabbed at his chest as blood already started to soak its way out. “You have brought disgrace to your duty, and dishonor to the badge,” Marshall explained with icy venom.

“Get him,” Dyzon and Eris cried in chorus as the charged past the fading form of Arbiter. Marshall snapped off another rapid fire staccato song of shots that thudded their way into his opponents. Several caught the Uraor with fearsome force only to be met by her body’s uncanny ability to recover from damage quickly. Already the wounds were beginning to close.

Another blast took Dyzon from behind and to the side as it dropped him to the ground to cut his rushed assault short. Scrambling, Marshall dropped his Tamel’s and grabbed for the hanging hilt of the sword at his side. The light caught and rippled along the edge of the shattered blade as he brought it to bear. Eris screamed with rage as she sent blow after blow his way, a crashing wave of close-range combat.

Marshall steadied himself as his hands took their grip along the heavy blades handle and rolled his body to maximize the momentum. The sharp stub sliced through flesh like rushing water through a valley and an arm fell to the floor. A howl of pain exploded in answer and Eris fell back a step to clutch at the ruined remnants of her lost limb. Fire still burned in her eyes, but with it came a clear understanding of what awaited her if she continued.

“Mercy,” she pleaded, feeling the inherent shame the words brought forth from insider her with them. She would recover, she knew, but to die so disgracefully; that she could never haunt her in the hereafter forever. It was better to live and reclaim her pride later than to be known as a weakling by those who told of her tale.