Shawn's Perspective 3 - Great Balls of Fire

I step backward; a blow from a Rat's mace glances off my shoulder plate and slams into the ground. This was one of the Ratmen who came in with the tall one, with the cut obsidian rings on its tails. On its own tail, it wore at least seven golden rings up and down its tail, and a pair of golden rings on the peaks of its ears. I slam my elbow backward and into its forehead with all the might I could muster at that moment. The bone collapsed, and the black, mange-covered Rat was flung backward into two or three others that managed to circle around me. One of them falls into the canal, while the others managed to catch themselves. The fallen Rat began to paddle to the nearest ladder out of the canal.

I clamor up the side of the palisade and speak to the orb on the end of my shield.

"What's the goal?"

"Kill the Apostle."

Apostle? That's new. I scan the room, and my eyes lock on the mage. A blue blade of lightning was heading toward him, and he blocked it with a massive wall of water. The current from it traveled down the pillar of water and through the canal. The swimming Rat shook violently, then floated face down through the wall of fog. It had to be the mage, right?

A few other Rats scramble up the palisade to join me. One swings its short blade at me, and I catch it by the wrist and slam the point of the targe into its face; yanking the short sword out of its grasp as it rolls down the edge. Another makes it up to me, and I swing the blade; the top part of its skull separates from the rest, and the blade shatters in two. The dark metal shrapnel spat out in the direction of my swing; shards embed themselves in the crowd. A few of the Rats began to cross the bridge in my absence while my attention was divided. I brush my targe against the palisade as I climb up to its peak. The braided wood spikes swell and blast apart in every direction except toward me. Large splinters and wooden shrapnel tear apart the surrounding Rats, and I use the force of the explosion to propel myself to the bridge in a large arc over the scattering, injured horde.

Thunder shakes the room as Lawrence slams his fist against one of the Rats approaching him, I nearly fall over as I land in the middle of the bridge on the top of the arc that spans the canal. The wooden shrapnel follows after me and is absorbed back into my shield. The color becomes redder as a result of the blood soaked into the wood.

I retreat across the bridge, and the horde follows me. I raise my leg and stomp on the bridge with all of the strength I have in my body. With the force and the combined weight of the scores of Rats clamoring over one another to get at me, half the stone bridge crumbles — stone and thrashing bodies splashing into the clear waters below.

My spear leaned against the wall a few feet away. Another loud boom of thunder shakes the room and I nearly topple. I look over. Half the head of a Rat that had approached Lawrence was gone; all that was left was a smoking stump. I don't know what spell he used, but never have I witnessed such power. It was as if I were face to face with a god of a sort. Tendrils of lightning flow out of his body as if he had been turned into a living storm. How long could he keep this up? A thousand questions crossed my mind, but there was one thing I know for certain; he has the potential to compete in the higher ranks, the very question I had sought to answer when we came here. At least it all wasn't for nothing. A real man shows his mettle when pushed to the extremes, after all.

I grab hold of my bag and pull open the canvas flats. I hear the plodding of wet-furred feet come from behind. I glance back, a few of the rats that had fallen into the river had managed to climb out. I didn't pay attention to that. There was nothing in the bag that I sorely needed, aside from the cash. I pull out as much as I could and shove it into my pockets, after that. Ten pipe bombs line the bottom of my pack and sat beneath a layer of gas and whiskey molotovs. I push aside the glass bottles and weave together all of the fuses.

I pull the lighter out of my pocket beneath the layers of cash and light the fuses together. Four Rats were now approaching me from the edge of the canals. A small, flickering flame alights to life with three clicks and leaps to the weaved fuses as I hold it beneath the black, alcohol soaked rope.

I close the top flap, secure it as quickly as I could and hurl it into the crowd of Rats on the other end of the bridge. I hold my shield in front of my face and wait. A moment later the room rocks as a ball of flaming shrapnel tears through the Ratman horde.