[turbine]
http://ac.turbine.com/?page_id=471
Captain Tharnoch crouched behind a tall rock, perfectly concealed against the mottled texture of the stone. He had followed his Queen's orders all the way to this desolate and dangerous perch. His eyes scanned a beach strewn with many of these large rock formations and the enormous shells of dead mollusks. A stone's throw away, the pale sands gave way to cliffs of black rock. At the base of the black cliffs, a group of three Ruschk stood together, muttering to each other with grunts and hisses. As yet, they were still unaware of his presence, but that would change soon enough, as soon as he'd completed his observations...
He strained to listen to what they were saying, but the rhythmic crash of waves and the call of seabirds interfered with his hearing. He had heard enough to be able to tell that these Ruschk were not like the ones he'd spent years fighting on the Halaetans. The darkness of the night sky, with one moon still obscured by mysterious darkness, similarly made it difficult for him to properly examine his foes. The brutes did not seem to have the same coloration as their Halaetan cousins. Even under the light of a new moon, the Ruschk of the frigid islands seemed to glow with a chill inner light. These Ruschk were dark... so dark that they seemed to suck in the pale light reflected by the sands of this strange shore.
Cursing inwardly, Tharnoch decided he'd need to risk a closer approach. He paused to take a drink from his flask to fortify himself. He felt the enchanted brew burning through him as he swallowed, and his limbs grew lighter and stronger. That done, he started to creep forward, very slowly, trying to keep himself in the shadow of the rocks. He got close enough to get a good look at the masked face of one of the brutes. Its eyes were not the pale blue he'd expected, but dark and empty, like holes into an empty void. Then the smell hit him... the stink of corpses and corruption. He wrinkled his nose and reached for his sword.
At that moment, one of the Ruschk noticed him, roared in rage, and charged at him. The other two quickly joined in the attack. The old warrior drew his blade, glowing with runes of powerful enchantments, and braced his shield to meet the charge. The first charging Ruschk barreled into him, and the shock of the impact was stronger than Tharnoch expected. He threw himself backwards, still agile after almost thirty years of battle, and rolled back to his feet in a better defensive posture.
The Ruschk came onward, battering at his shield and armor with heavy, clawed hands. He struck back, swinging his sword in powerful arcs. Lumps of black flesh and foul, corrupted gore went flying as Tharnoch hacked at his assailants. He concentrated on the first one that had attacked him, determined to cut them down one at a time, warding off the other two as well as he could. No matter how hard he hit it, the foul beast kept swinging wildly along with its companions. Their fists struck his shield with all the force of a Viamontian warrior's flanged mace. A particularly nasty swipe from the one on his right cracked a rib, and the one on the left smashed his shield so hard that his entire left arm went numb.
Finally, the first one fell, after absorbing a dozen of Tharnoch's best hits. Defending now against two of these unnatural monsters, he was able to settle into a more comfortable battle rhythm. He had enough space to maneuver to use his feet as well as his shield to avoid attacks. They still managed to hit him, and hit hard, but he felt more in control of the fight. Not so long after the second one fell, the last of the three monsters fell in a pile of splintered bones and withered flesh.
He unslung his shield, drove the point of his sword into the ground, and knelt on one knee, letting his weary shoulders droop for a moment of rest. All around him, puddles of blood and gore steamed and began to sink into the sand.
He rested his right hand on the hilt of his sword as he reached for the flask of health potion on his belt. This entire island looked to be infested with very dangerous beasts, and he knew he wouldn't have much time to recover on his own. He unstopped the cork with his thumb and raised the flask to his lips, when he saw a purple light behind him, reflected in the polished metal. Without stopping to think, he rolled forward. There was a roar, and the ground shook behind him.
When he managed to get to his feet and spin to face the new threat, his heart sank. Three more of these blackened Ruschk stood where he had been. The one in the middle towered above the others, and stood taller even than a man. His shield lay in the sand where he'd let it fall, inconveniently by the feet of the oversized brute. He knew he wouldn't be able to get to it to defend himself. He whispered a prayer as the big one, clearly some kind of a chieftain or leader, gestured at him, and the two smaller ones advanced.
Tharnoch prepared to throw himself forward, determined at least to slay the large one before the others tore him to pieces. He took the first step, and then was thrown off-balance by another flash of purple light, this one behind the leader. The big Ruschk didn't even get a chance to turn around before a glowing blade erupted from its chest. Black viscera sprayed all over the sand. The creature's limbs jerked once and went limp. A shriek pierced the air, and Tharnoch could not decide if the sound came from the dying Ruschk or from the blade that had killed it. The creature pitched forward into the sand like a practice dummy cut loose from its frame and landed with a moist, meaty thump.
The other two Ruschk, seemingly confused by the fall of their leader, paused. Tharnoch didn't hesitate. He leaped to attack the nearest one. He was dimly aware that another combatant, whoever it was who had killed the leader, had stepped forward to engage the other.
In a matter of moments, both of the remaining Ruschk had met the same fate as their leader. Tharnoch turned warily to confront the newcomer, sword up and ready to defend himself. He knew that this unknown warrior had saved his life, but he wasn't going to let himself be taken by surprise.
He almost dropped his sword once he got a look at the man's face.
"It's you!" he cried out, shocked to be confronted by this specter from a lifetime and a world past...
"It's me," the other agreed pleasantly.

