[IRP] Return to the Dread Isle

[Andy]

Tiras felt the tingling greasiness of the lightning spell wash over him twice. He didn't let that slow him down. He and the halberdier were nearly completely evenly matched. His armor kept him from taking great injury, but he was going to have a welt in several places after this. The halberd came at him from below. Tiras dodged using the returning step, coming in as his opponent's weapon was away. Reverse strike to the forward wrist and it broke, even through the gauntlet. But, then, these were unfeeling morphs. Tiras grabbed the halberd and wrenched it out of his opponent's hands.

As it pulled back on the halberd, Tiras thrust the point up through the groin. He felt the sword grate off of armor and bone, then wrenched it out again and thrust under the right arm. He let go of the halberd and gripped the blade of his sword with his now-free right hand, then thrust the pommel into the morph spearman's face.

Its helm, a simple but effective sallet, was knocked off at last. Swing to the left for the tip to cut the face, and a final thrust through the eye, and it was fading away. The armor and halberd clattered to the ground. Tiras took the halberd, sheathing his sword, and looked back to find one of the other morphs and Lennox nowhere in sight, and the other two morphs attempting to fight with Renata and Raye the Dragon. Raye's opponent was on fire. It dropped a burning object (possibly a bow?).

At the same time the air grew greasy again.

"All of you hang on! I'll be back after I deal with that spellcaster!" he shouted.

The shout was probably lost amid the din and panic.

He turned and ran towards the fortress ruins where the spellcaster lurked. As he did, the greasiness faded. He hoped that didn't mean it had struck at his comrades. Tiras's lungs burned, his body ached, and he was soaked in sweat, but he had to keep going.

A chill breeze struck him full in the face, his armor amplifying the sudden cold.

Tiras flung himself to the side as a massive pillar of ice coalesced around the space he'd just been in, and then shattered. The squire hurtled to his feet as he closed with the magic-user. At least I'm not as hot anymore, he grumbled in his thoughts. Strike from above left, passing step and strike from below right, and step in with another strike from above left, and the morph in mage robes faded from the blows of its former compatriot's halberd.

Tiras staggered suddenly, his vision going dark for a second, and stumbled back out into the field. Then, he fell to his knees, to flat on his face, and passed out.

...

In the dark of Tiras's oblivion, there was a voice. So, boy, thou seeketh power?