They stood amongst the fallen bodies of the Ikalu priests, their black souls sent back to the God of Murder. The bloody robes fallen on piles of gold — centuries of treasure gathered by the wizard. The same wizard who hired the little band to guard it against just such an intrusion.
But one escaped. The high priest. The thieves fell exausted onto the gold — their own bodies drained from the race to the treasure room — to guard a treasure more valuable than all the gold that surrounded them.
“Rest, my brother,” the little one said, her hands glowing softly with a healing touch. “She Who Watches will ease your pain.” Her fingers touched the oozing wound, and it closed, leaving not even a scar to remind the half-elf he was ever hurt.
“Thank you,” the half-elf said, smiling as best he could. His body ached from the flames and blades and other traps guarding this room. He looked at the black robed bodies, bleeding onto the gold and held his ivory bow tight in his hands. The bow that whispered softly to him in the sharp elven tongue.
“She watches all of us, and protects us,” the little woman said. The ranger looked at her again, this little woman who protected them through so —
The paladin’s eyes opened wide, her back bending, her hands falling to her sides. The sound of steel tearing flesh. Two wounds — very close to the heart — blossoming in blood on her chest.
And that is when the high priest appears, his blade covered in the paladin’s blood. He holds the blade to the paladin’s neck. His voice whispering in her ears.
“Now, you spread your legs for Ikalu, little bitch,” he whispers. The knife begins to move. But not before an arrow is knocked in that ivory bow and the ranger’s own lips are whispering.
“Swift death to my enemies,” he says in that sharp elven tongue.
The bow whispers to him. “Death to those who wrong me.”
The assassin-priest’s hand tries to move… but the arrow finds his eye first.
* * *
You guys rule. I can’t wait for our next game.