James Galloway - The Tower of Sorcery

Tarrin waded back in, much more hesitant this time. He began testing the creature, using forms and routines that baited, stressed, pushed, as he tried to feel out the extent of the creature's skill and speed. His staff blurred as his power moved it about like a stick, blocking sword slashes and swiping and stabbing at his enemy in return. He knew that it was also feeling him out, but there was little to be done for that. He parried a thrust at his chest, tried to come around and strike it on the opposite side, only to find its shield slamming up against his side. Tarrin was pushed back by the heavy blow, and he screamed as a furiously hot line of pain ran up his side. Blood flowed from the wound as the creature tried to reset its blood-trailing sword for a fast stab in the belly, but Tarrin planted his foot directly in the thing's hideous face, knocking out three of its teeth and driving it a few steps backwards.

Hunching over the wound, Tarrin felt it burn and throb savagely. There was something about it that kept it open, long after his regenerative power would have stopped the bleeding. The creature had injured him, injured him for real, for the wound wasn't closing up the way it was supposed to. Pushing the pain out of his mind, he saw it spit out another tooth. He saw that his claws had punched five holes into its forehead and cheek, one of them deep enough to gouge a piece off its cheekbone. It advanced quickly after shaking its head, and he twisted around another attempt to skewer him, then put his shoulder into another attempt to slam him with the shield. It was the creature pushed back this time, and Tarrin bulled it out of the reach of its sword. He whipped his staff around with only one hand, holding it by the end as he spun in a complete circle. The move gave the staff horrific speed and force as it came around his body, and it cracked into its helmeted head with a sharp metallic clang , snapping the head to the side forcefully.

But it merely righted its head and gave him an evil grin. "Ye be good, Were-cat, good indeed," it complemented. "Jegojah's head would have bounced on the floor if Jegojah were human." Much to his dismay, Tarrin realized that its helmet wasn't even bent.

Tarrin couldn't hurt it with his staff. It was somehow invulnerable to it. But why did the Goddess tell him to bring it?

Because it was the only weapon he had, and though it couldn't hurt it, it was still useful. And though it couldn't be hurt by his staff, his claws had quite visibly damaged it. Just like the Wraith, Tarrin could injure this opponent if he attacked it with his natural weaponry. Attacking it one magical creature to another.

He had to get that sword away from it. He understood that clearly. If he didn't, it would chop him into fishbait. It moved in quickly to re-engage, and Tarrin worked feverishly against the sword, keeping it away from him at all costs, fighting from a purely defensive posture. Blood began slicking the floor from the wound in his side, and his foot slipped in it just enough to make the undead creature charge in for the attack. But Tarrin simply let the foot slip out all the way, sinking underneath the blow meant to take off his head, and then he used a Selani form to rise up with his free paw leading, a deceptively slow move that carried tremendous power in it. It hit the creature in the breastplate, and Tarrin's momentum carried it into the air, then sent it flying backwards. It landed on its back a few spans away, and Tarrin capitalized on that by vaulting into the air after it, the butt of his staff leading as he tried to impale its face on the end of his weapon.

But it wasn't there anymore. Tarrin heard it behind him as he landed, so he rolled forward and came up facing it. Its breastplate was caved in at the abdomen from the force of Tarrin's blow. It pointed its sword at him, and before Tarrin even knew what was going on, he was on his back, pain blasting along his chest and arms. He could feel the shirt against his chest burn from the impact with whatever magic the creature had thrown at him. The smell of ozone was strong in the air, and the passage echoed loudly with a thunderclap. Magic! The Goddess warned him that it was a powerful creature, and it was only logical that that meant that it also had some magical capability. It was on him instantly, and the only thing that saved him from having his head split in half was a raised foot. He caught its wrist on the pad of his foot, bending his back impossibly tight and bracing his body with his arms as his leg absorbed the force of the attack, stopping the edge of the blade mere fingers away from Tarrin's forehead. Tarrin's leg was much stonger that its arm, and his body uncoiled like a spring, hurling the creature away from him as his leg and body pushed against it. But it didn't fall down, and Tarrin's backwards roll didn't get him far enough away. He ducked under another blow meant to chop his head in half, but he didn't get down far enough.

Tarrin screamed in pain as his right ear fell to the floor beside him, and that pain triggered the Cat in a way that he could not suppress. The animal in him took over, and his eyes blazed from within with a greenish aura that consumed them. Jegojah actually backed up as Tarrin exploded from his crouch and threw his staff aside, assaulting the undead creature with a blind, mindless fury that took the creature by surprise. He was quickly bleeding from several shallow cuts and slashes in his arms and upper body, but he completely ignored the pain as the Cat in him sought nothing less than ripping off the creature's head. The creature contained Tarrin's mindless fury, understanding that he had lost control, and it made him pay for it every time Tarrin's claws sought out its face by cutting another bleeding line in his hide. Grabbing the edge of the creature's shield, Tarrin ripped it off of its arm, but it cost him a deep stab to his left shoulder in reply. And just as the pain had triggered his loss of control, that deep injury, to the bone, somehow shocked him back into rational thought. He grabbed the sword with his other paw, ignoring the blade's edges digging into his fingers, then pulled it out of his shoulder, then twisted it to the side. He spun away from that motion and planted his clawed paw right in the creature's face as it tried to recover its position, staggering it back and giving Tarrin a chance to see what he had done to it while he was in his rage.

At least he had given back as good as he got. The creature had several very deep rends in its armor from his claws, and its face bore no less than four quartets of deep slashes that dug into the bone. And now that it didn't have a shield, Tarrin felt that it evened things a bit. His left arm was still movable, but it caused a shockwave of pain in him every time his shoulder shifted. His head was pounding, and he could feel blood pour into his ear canal like water, dulling his hearing on the right side.

It cackled again, giving him what Tarrin felt was a leery grin. "Oh, clever, clever Were-cat," it rasped. "Ye be better than Jegojah expected. Professional trained, ye be, by a master who knows his fighting."

"Let's get on with it," Tarrin snarled.

The creature moved as if to advance, but then it called out a single unintelligible word, then slammed its booted foot into the floor. It created a seismic shockwave that sizzled up the hallway like a tidal wave, and when it hit Tarrin, it picked him up and hurled him twenty spans down the passage. His back slammed into the ornate gates to the inner chamber, and the shockwave drove them open and spilled him onto the floor beyond.

Dazed, Tarrin lay on the floor, knowing that the creature was coming but unable to figure out how to make his body move. Each bootstep seemed to be an eternity apart, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. His eyes came into focus just in time to see it swinging its sword in a broad overhanded chop, meaning to put him down for good. He managed to find out how to move his arms, and a blast of pain heralded his success as his paws arced up and over his body, then slapped together on either side of the broadsword's blade. The blade cut into the pads on his palms, but the pressure he exerted on the sides halted its forward motion just above his chest. Shock registered on the undead creature's face as Tarrin's foot smashed into its knee, buckling it and making the creature roll to the side as its supporting leg crumpled under its weight. Tarrin pushed the sword along with it as he rolled in the other direction, coming to his feet as the creature also regained its footing. Its left leg was bent at an unnatural angle at the knee, but it didn't seem to be in any pain or discomfort.