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There was a bright flash of luminescence, and I found myself standing amidst a patch of overly humid woodland; woodland, mind you, not the frozen waste that was approaching!

I had begun to celebrate commensurate to my fantastic achievement, which was to say naturally exuberant! I had, after all, finally mastered the art of teleportalizationating! Or, so I had perceived at the time!

There were plenty of other prominent figures surrounding my current location in the grasses, of course. And that was when the alarm began to rise in my gullet, for not only had I been teleportalizationated, but many others had, as well! Of particular importification was Lord Kee...Ara, Al, lord of, eh, Woods, and whatnot. He was most grievously wounded; a wound direct to his heart!

He was being carried by that most brutalistish fiendly man, Nachytsm- who happened to be missing an extremity of particular importance, namely, his arm!

.....

Battle continued to rage around him, though not so close as to enter his particular fray; neither side of the war wanted anything to do with them.
Nachytsm stood across from two of the largest fiends he'd ever seen; Arch-Demons, without a doubt, clad in molten armor and armed with massive claws. Each of them had to have been at least ten feet tall, he wagered, with a wingspan of twice that; had there been enough room in the chamber for them to take flight.

He was guarding the gateway that his master had just left through; it was his goal to stop Dagda, stop all of this. Nachytsm would have been with him, but the Demons would need to be dealt with first. And so, he guarded, as he was used to; albeit shorter in this case, at a mere 7'2", he bore a tower shield, adorned in spikes, that itself was roughly five feet tall and three in width. His blade was nearly of the same dimensions; over six feet long to the tip, a foot wide, and three inches thick at its largest.

The Demons would not allow themselves to be delayed; both lunge as one, and Nachytsm, hard-headed as ever, meets their lunge with his own, screaming at the top of his lungs to match them.

.....

I wasn't sure how that had come to be circumstance. He never was one to vocalize much beyond a basic rage, and I certainly wasn't going to attempt confronting him into conversation!

Also nearby was my fellow companion from the Undermountainhomelankingdomfort, Molko Firestorm. He seemed intact, but brutalizedly tired! I can't imagine what he had been through.

Then there was a Paladin, some Earthymagicyperson I did not recognize, and a slew of other less-importants.

And then there was me! Techno-Engineering Assassin Glixenheimer Bolargian Jibbnoticous, Grand Under-master Rank 23rdieth of the 17th Waltup Precinct, Highest Esteemed Precinct of the 9th Circle of the Underfolks' Legionary Outfitting, Supply, Exploratorization, and Battle Commissioning League, The 5th. Or, at least, I was!

.....

Nachytsm met them blow for blow; ducking below a scything claw, he delivers a thrust with his blade. The Demon practically propels itself out of the way, allowing the other to jump in and tear a chunk out of Nachytsm's shield. Using his forward momentum, Nachytsm brings the shield into the ground, with the Demon's hand impaled briefly by the blades.

Lunging back, the three stand-off once again. Only superficial damage done, as had been the battle. One of the Demons had lost a wing, and Nachytsm was missing a number of spikes and chunks from his armor. All three combatants were still practically fresh, however.

Another round of blows began. Slashing horizontally, Nachytsm scores a hit on the left-most Demon's abdomen, growling in triumph as he draws black, seething blood. But that was part of a cunning, selfless ploy; the Demon, well within striking range, grabs the blade with both of its clawed hands, holding it tight. Before Nachytsm could react, the other steps in, forcing one hand into the tower shield, and, with Nachytsm immobilized, it disarms him... in a very literal fashion.

.....

By the time everyone had gathered their bearings, the dim glow of what I assumed to be my victory was subsiding. The afterglow of what was a fantastically terrible loss was hitting me by then, and my tears of triumph had devolvulized into tears of unfathomablicable sadness. That was when Nachytsm shouted a word I could only assume to be 'Quiet.'

Which we all did very quickly, I assure you. Even lacking an arm and blackened with soot... actually, probablicably more-so because of that, he was quite intimidating. And all eyes were on him. Even mine! So, he continued to speak;
"Go. Help," he 'says', or as close to speech as the barbarionous man had ever been. I, of course, was flabbergasted.
"Go where? Help what? Help him?" I asked, pointing to his master; who, I hasten to remind you, we owe everything! My words at the time were spoken in fear and furylation. "He lost us the battle! The war! The... Everything!"

Fortunately, my sentiment was not shared. Unfortunately, Nachytsm did not take a kindliness to it. He grabbed me by my hair- scant as it is! And growled in my face. "Go. Find help. Any help." It was the most frankly, truthfulness filled and understandable statement I'd ever heard him utter! So, I simply nodded.

The others accepticated him as the leader as well, and went off into the woods. I, too, upon being released, post hastily made my exit from the place he sat. I gathered a few plants that looked helpful; I'm a Technicificator, not an Herbalinerast, so I had no idea what I was doing. Still, I came back in time to see something astoundificating!

.....

His roar of pain and rage nearly drowned out the jubilant, triumphant cries of his attackers. His arm had been hewn less-than-neatly just off his shoulder, and now lie on the ground; his blood did not spill so easily, much like his foes, it slowly dripped from his wounds, a black ichor.

His fury gave him strength, however; the demon who had dismembered him was stuck to his shield by the arm, and so, Nachytsm decided to return the favor. Channeling all of his strength, he wrenches the shield back and forth, a comforting snap making musical notes now and again; the Demon, howling in rage, returns the favor by ripping its broken limb from the shield, and throwing Nachytsm across the room.

Impacting heavily into a wall, he stands, his mangled face not too much worse from the battle as yet, his glare practically burning a hole through the air. With a mighty shout, he throws his shield, absolutely unlike any projectile has any right to be, flat through the air. The five-by-three foot spiked projectile impacts with a satisfying crunch into the approaching Demon, sending it back a few paces as it coughs its life-blood onto the ground.

Lacking his weapons and facing defeat, he was no threat to the Demons now; but they were enraged, their initial goal, passage after his Master, was forgotten. Now they sought revenge for the pains caused. Nachytsm, however, was not to go down without a fight...

..... To be continued.

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