(32) - The Scarlet Vengence - Part II

The commander of the Scarlet Monastary slammed his gauntleted fist on his desk with a thunderous crash. "Light forsake that bastard!"

Loksey remained impassive before this display of temper; when he had discovered another one of their towers turned from defensive fortification to charnel house. This time it had been the watchtower overlooking the Balnir farmstead... days before it had been the training camp near Faol's Rest. A week past every guardsman at the Crusader's Rest tower had been slaughtered to a man. Each time, they had re-garrisoned the fortifications, doubling the guard. They had drained their reserves, and sent to Scholomance for reinforcements.

The courier's head had been found the next morning, his packet stuffed in his mouth.

Mograine had commanded Loksey to track and kill this pestilence. Loksey had taken a dozen of his tracking hounds and three of his beastmasters... and he had borrowed some of Whitemane's priests and Herod's centurions. He had consulted with Captain Melrache, the only tower yet to be hit, a semi-ruined tower on the North Coast road. One at a time, he had moved his men into the tower while patrols swept the road and the hills to both sides.

Then they settled in to wait. Three days had passed, and almost Loksey had called off the trap - but no tidings of an attack elsewhere had come, so he bided. Loksey was a master huntsman, and knew well the value of patience. On the fourth day, nothing happened.

Nothing. The patrols stopped returning. No couriers. Loksey sent word for his force to stand ready; whoever had been killing their men was coming.

Another hour passed, and the coastal fog started to burn off. One man stood in the road, armored head to foot. He held a disc-shaped shield with a curious curve; it appeared to be all of one piece, and made from metal. His sword was a blue nimbus of fire, whatever blade thoroughly obscured. Greaves, vambraces, pauldrons... all plate. He stood there in the road, waiting.

He did not have to wait long. Loksey released his hounds, and twelve slavering canine thunderbolts leaped forward. The adepts, priests, and warriors with him left the tower, making a half-circle on the tower stairs, in no hurry; they wanted to watch this interloper torn to bits. They began calling bets.

The hounds pounded the gravel road, each utterly focused on their prey. Loksey had trained them well... they never struck the throat or torso first, but used their massive jaws to crush ankle, calves, or knee, crippling their target before slowly beginning the task of dismemberment. Usually, they were called off, and their quarry healed... and then set free, so that they could hunt again.

When they were roughly equidistant, the lone figure called the Light, and sent it into his metal shield, throwing it at the oncoming throng. Imbued with holy power, it sprang forth from his hand as swiftly as an arrow, and its edge careened from one to another before its power was spent, and it returned to his hand. Three canine bodies fell from the pack.

Almost as one, they lunged, and the figure leaped forward to meet them. His arm swept his shield wide, muscling hounds around. The crusaders could not hear the words, but they saw the Light explode outward from his body, rolling over and through the dogs. They screamed and fell... the very ground pulsed with fire as it became consecrated ground, burning the invoker's enemies. The sword of blue flame finished many of them as they lay there, whining in their pain.

Loksey had felt a white-hot rage, and ordered Captain Melrache and his men forward. They had gone more cautiously than the hounds, to be sure... but their enemy awaited them with seeming eagerness, beckoning them forward. They were almost withing a spearthrust range when Melrache found out why.

He wasn't alone.

Under the cover of fog, his comrades had taken up positions on the east side of the road, and as one they rose - two Kaldorei and a dwarf of Ironforge. Each held a long gun, with scopes. Each fired. From their position came wolf and turtle. His allies fired a second volley before their animal companions reached their targets. They all but forgot about their original target as spellcasters fell, their heads exploded by the carefully-aimed first shot. Their second volley was more haphazard, but heavy thorium shot punched through plate and mail as the formation turned to face the onslaught.

Loksey had watched while the paladin - for who else fought in that manner? - charged forward, taking the turned enemy in the flank. The centurions turned, to be ripped apart by wolf and more bullets. He had slipped down the back of the cliff to the coastline and circled away, fetching a relief force... but by the time he had them and returned, the paladin and his allies were gone.

Again.