Wisps and Shades

The ethereal shapes drifted closer to the path, not disturbing the waters beneath. Some of them appeared to be orbs of light, somewhat transparent, but also possessing a core to their form, an intent. These appeared to be of little harm, but the darker, larger shapes that accompanied them were far more sinister.

Bodies composed of a dark smoke, there was a pulsating, purple glow that radiated hate, fixated on him. The wisps of smoke formed two appendages, the smoke appearing nearly solid as it tapered into a series of pointed claws. These must be some form of shades or wights, Trygg surmised.

He quickened his pace, moving along at a jog along the path, delaying the confrontation with the ephemeral opponents until necessary. The shades and wisps doggedly pursued him, others joining the pursuit as he ran deeper into the darkening swamp.

Finding an area of the path with greater area for him to make his stand, Trygg came to a halt and prepared to fend off his pursuers. He knew that physical attacks would have little effect against them, beings of spirit, but he trusted in his magic and the cold iron, forged to touch even the spirit, to banish them.

First of all, Trygg called upon the runes for fire, intending to dissipate as many as possible before they neared him. The glowing runes spun in the area, beginning to form a small flame when he felt the familiar twinge in the back of his mind, the spell turning awry and the flames releasing in an arc along the path. The flames sputtered for a few moments, catching along what few plants grew from the poor soil. The ethereal spirits approached closer and Trygg hastily recast the spell, maintaining control of the spell as it formed the familiar flames. With a bit of effort, he compressed the sphere into a thin disk, hoping to catch several of the fragile forms with one throw.

As the wisps began to reach the edge of the path, he released the flame disk, spraying through the nearest ones. Where the flame touched the bodies of light, it dissipated into the air, leaving nothing behind. One of them managed to reconstruct its form, but the other two crumpled inward, vanishing from sight. The darker, larger forms of the two shades were not far behind, only a moment from reaching the path themselves. Working quickly, he formed one final ball of fire, releasing it into the wisp before it reached him.

As the fire bolt passed through the center of the wisp, it released a sharp crack and a line of energy shot from its form and struck Trygg's coat, searing a hole the size of his fist through the right shoulder of his coat, his skin aching. The bolt obliterated the wisp and its light faded from the marsh.

In that time, the two shades had reached the path and now flowed towards him, claws extending to grasp him. Too little time to use fire, he thought. He gripped his spear with both hands, igniting the runes upon its surface, but not activating them, extending the spear's ability to harm the spirits.

As the first shade swept its dark claws at him, Trygg used the spear to slap it aside, following it up with the butt of the spear, pushing it backwards as the green energy from the runes crackled along the surface of its body. The second shade approached him from his right and he caught its claws along the haft of the spear, throwing the strike to his left. Following the momentum of the strike, he plunged the spearhead through the body of wisp. The purplish aura tinged a dark red as it left out a piercing wail and its body shattered into fragments that slowly fell and faded.

Before he could fully turn to face the final shade, he felt its cold claws slice through his coat and raking his left shoulder to the middle of his back. Trygg left out a sharp gasp from the pain and spun to block its followup blow. With a quick stab, he pierced the other arm of the shade, causing it to splinter and fade. He spun the spear and knocked away the shade's claws from its remaining arm, turning the spear to slice through the shade, from top to bottom. As it faded away, he breathed out, trying to ignore the pain across his shoulders.

Hearing a soft thrumming from behind him, Trygg turned around and beheld the archway opening up along the pathway. The wisps and shades had left nothing for him to scavenge, so he proceeded to walk towards the gate, giving one last look at the miserable swamp before stepping through.

Not too bad for a terrible day, he thought.