Friday, August 2, 2013

Quick Thinking

As the two menacing embodiments of evil approached me from opposite directions, I warily considered my objectives:
  1. Survive
  2. Keep Gavsot from getting killed
  3. Get the fuck out of here
  4. If at all convenient, keep Torvin from getting killed too

I also considered the tools at my disposal:
  1. One powerful but incapacitated demon
  2. One weak and cowardly demon
  3. Azraal's knife, which I'd pulled from Gavsot's shoulder in the hopes that it still had a usable amount of cocktail on it
  4. Endless halls lined with cells filled with demonic prisoners
  5. My wits

This was going to be way less than awesome.  Azraal and Niven were closing the distance cautiously but with accelerating boldness.  I acted quickly, doing the only thing I could think of.

I kicked open the thick wooden door to the nearest cell.  "Torvin!" I barked, nodding to the door to indicate he should go in.  Grateful to be ushered away from the action, he hurried into the cell.  I lifted Gavsot’s heavy, muscular body and tried to drag him inside with me, but I ran out of time—Azraal had closed the distance.

I slashed at him wildly with his own knife and he backed out of range, prowling around me like a predator searching for a vulnerability.  Niven appeared out of nowhere, his shoulders lowered, bowling Azraal out of the way with startling ease.  The bony, razor-sharp protrusions at his wrists flashed in the air in front of me, narrowly missing my face. 

I had no intention of getting killed by this asshole a second time.  I dropped Gavsot and lunged forward.  As I tackled Niven, I gripped him tightly, teleported us both a hundred yards down the hall, released him, and teleported myself back to Gavsot.  I bodily heaved him inside the cell as he weakly apologized for his uselessness.  

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