The Mechanics of Peace
Chapter 8 - The Trap
by David "Lord
Davidian", posted on April 17th, 2001
Prologue -
Chapter 1 -
Chapter 2 -
Chapter 3 -
Chapter 4 -
Chapter 5 -
Chapter 6 -
Chapter 7 -
Chapter 8
The cobble-stone streets were getting much darker and quieter
now; more so than those Delvun had travelled along to get to this
point. The eerie lack of activity and ambient lighting was cause
for the young anxious Elf to be put on edge. In fact, the otherwise
calm and collected Delvun actually jumped at the sudden sound of
two fiercely competitive alley cats fighting to determine which
one was most worthy of the small scrap of food lying invitingly
between them. Amidst the ensuing struggle, the clumsy duo managed
to knock over a large metal trash can. The can smacked against the
stony ground with a thunderous CRASH! as they nearly killed each
other for the paltry prize.
"Find your center. This is no time to be taking leave of your
senses," Delvun told himself. He took in a deep breath of the
decidedly foul night air and then slowly let it out. He repeated
this cycle several times, waiting patiently for his rapid heart
rate to return to its accustomed rhythmic pace.
Soon Delvun came upon the building he was directed to by the Half-Orc
in the Saloon. He carefully inspected the drab uninviting structure,
but could see no signs indicating that this uninspired edifice was
a Copper Exchange nor that it was the property of Mr. Thundersmith.
All that could be seen was a simple metallic plate sign badly oxidized
and tarnished with age which read simply 'ENTRANCE IN REAR'.
Being the next logical step, Delvun turned around the corner and
headed down the dark, quiet alley towards the back entrance of the
building. He reached the halfway point of his destination when he
heard the distinct sound of shuffling feet far behind him. He quickly
whipped around to see two Half-Ogres lumbering slowly and steadily
towards him from the alley's entranceway; each wielding huge wicked
looking, but crudely fashioned, spiked clubs. An evil grin formed
on their ugly toothless faces in unison when they saw that they
had been noticed.
"You come to wrong part of town. Now we take what you have,"
the bigger of the two Half-Ogres warned as he stretched out his
powerful right arm and pointed a threatening fist at Delvun. Delvun's
eyes were suddenly transfixed upon the big, ornamental ring the
Half-Ogre was wearing on his middle finger. A slight blue glow emanated
from its center oblong jewel.
As he glared wide-eyed at the irresistible glow, a strange, new
feeling came over Delvun; that of genuine terror. He was so terrified,
he actually forgot to draw his longsword in retaliation. This was
the one thing he swore he would never fail to do in the presence
of an enemy. Delvun turned and ran towards the back door which would
allow him to sheltered protection within. After what to him felt
like an eternity, he reached the door and frantically twisted the
securely-fastened bulbous doorknob...nothing. He repeated this action
several more times while the confident Half-Ogres drew ever closer...still
nothing. The door to Delvun's only means of safety was locked!
Now frozen in fear, his back pressed firmly against the impenetrable
door, Delvun suddenly saw two Half-Orcs emerge from behind two large
trash cans which were lined up against the alley wall opposite Delvun.
"A trap!" the stunned Delvun now realized as one of the
Half-Orc attackers lunged at him followed closely by the other,
both with monstrous axes in their leathery hands.
The razor sharp axe came down towards Delvun's perspiring forehead,
poised to make bloody contact with its exposed flesh and bone target.
Delvun's only desperate, confused attempt at protection was to thrust
both of his forearms arms in front of his face and cover his forehead
with the old, worn bracers he wore in hopes that (futile though
it clearly seemed) the death-dealing blow would be absorbed.
A split second before the blade could make contact, a subtle golden
glow emanated from the blessed bracers. To Delvun's utter disbelief,
the offensive blow was not absorbed, but rather deflected! It was
as if they had detected the danger and created a small invisible
barrier. The Half-Orc's axe arm bounced back with enough force to
cause his entire body to swivel around and crash into the Half-Orc
still behind him. They both preceded to stumble uncontrollably backwards
into the trash cans they were hiding behind
a moment ago.
Witnessing this bizarre turn of events, the two Half-Ogres looked
first puzzled, then quite angry as they growled and picked up their
casual pace. Before they could even get a few steps closer, Delvun
heard a window quickly open above. He looked up to see a mysterious
figure peering out the now opened window. It was too dark to make
out the cloaked figure clearly, even with Delvun's keen night vision.
The suspicious silhouette aimed some kind of small weapon in front
of the fast approaching Half-Ogres and fired what looked like three
large pellets in rapid succession. Just as quickly, three separate
clouds of nauseous-looking green vapor appeared almost in unison
before the surprised Half-Ogres. Coughing and gagging could be heard
from within the heavy gaseous clouds seconds before two solid THUDs
as both Half-Ogres collapsed face first onto the hard cobble stone
ground.
Delvun finally regained his composure, but the green gaseous vapor
was rolling dangerously close to him and the two Half-Orcs were
now starting to regain their footing. Delvun's only chance to at
least temporarily evade this impeding death trap was to break down
the securely looked door. "At least it's wooden," he assured
himself. "There IS a chance." Turning so that his left
shoulder faced the obstacle before him (he dared not use his injured
right shoulder), Delvun took two broad steps away from the door.
Then, with all the speed he could muster, he rammed the stubbornly
sturdy door, desperately putting his full strength behind the blow.
BANG!...nothing! Not a budge!
The situation had now surpassed the realm of dire and was swiftly
approaching hopelessness. The noxious cloud was now looming just
feet from Delvun and the Half-Orcs were readying their next angry
charge, this time separately. Delvun had but one last try before
all was lost. Again he took two broad steps away from the door and
charged at it full force. In mid-stream, the door swung wide open
and a surprised Delvun staggered into the sheltered sanctuary, trying
in vain to stop himself. As the door was quickly shut and locked
behind him, he stumbled and fell head first into a large pile of
empty crates and cardboard boxes stacked high in the opposite corner
of the spacious, apparently abandoned, building.
Delvun was visibly shaken and felt some pain, but the boxes seemed
to cushion him from any serious injury. As he laid there, trying
to once again regain control of his rapid breathing, he heard coughing
and gagging just outside the door. The two Half-Orcs had given up
on the notion of killing Delvun and were now frantically trying
to seek shelter before succumbing to the effects of the poisonous
cloud they were now engulfed in. One was shaking, pulling and twisting
the doorknob in vein while the other was fiercely hacking away at
the solid door with his axe, unable to penetrate the thick wood.
In seconds they both suffered the same fate as the Half-Ogres, falling
to the cold, hard ground with a THUD. Feeling that the immediate
threat was now over, Delvun shifted his attention away from the
door and looked around to find the mysterious stranger who just
saved his life. After a moment, his eyes locked on to the figure
approaching him. He gingerly rubbed his aching head as his vision
began to blur. Delvun did not know whether it was the poisonous
vapors he accidentally breathed or the impact of falling into the
crates, but his vision began to blur before he could see the face
of his unknown, cloaked savior. Just as the mysterious figure began
pulling back the hood of the cloak, unconsciousness fell over Delvun
as he gave in to the inevitable.
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