Last Night

Once outside, he drew his war fork and his shield, and prepared for the clumsy attacks of a rat kin that had been waiting in the moonlight shadows on the side of the building. Four quick jabs with his fork was all it took, and the thing squeaked a cry of agony before falling. He spun on his heels, turning away from the corpse, and facing west toward the deep forest. Not once did it occur to him to see what gold or goods the rat kin might have in its purse.

Westward. Those were his only thoughts. The drow did not understand his sudden compulsion to travel that way. He only knew that he had nothing better to do. His usual company had not met him this eve, so rather than sulk in that quiet corner of the Arrow, he marched onward.

The pace was brisk, stopping only momentarily to dispatch a headless or a lizardman. The troll warranted more time, followed by thoughts of repairing his weapon. The fork was getting dull. Perhaps he would have to journey to that north-end smithy after all. He might have turned back at that point, but it was then that he saw the most curious sight. A man stood atop the stone edifice that was the entrance of the Yew Crypts. Had he not been Drow, Khalin would never have noticed the figure standing there. But with his infravision, he saw the radiant heat from the building contrasted against the cool air and cold stone.

Curious, Khalin decided to investigate. Moving in closer, but with a measure of caution, he made his way toward the crypts, using the occasional building as cover. He was more careful now, choosing to avoid any more creatures rather than engage them. Causing a stir would only ruin his chances of spying the situation.

He approached the crypt entrance, staring upward where the figure should have been. But either he had misjudged the position, or the man had retreated beyond the edge of the building, so Khalin could not see from his vantage point. But regardless, there was no more to be seen from here. The drow considered moving, still curious, when he was stopped in his tracks by an indescribable pain in his chest.

Khalin gasped for air, leaning a shoulder against a tree as he struggled to compose himself. The pain was intense: a bizarre mixture of burning, stabbing, and crushing. And it centered on his heart. His mouth gaped wide open, and his eyes rolled back with the intensity of it. His legs trembled, threatening to give way. And in his agony, Khalin let out a shriek.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the pain was over. His weight leaned on the tree for support; his breathing was raspy and labored. His eyes had welled up with tears, and he blinked them away. He breathed deeply, strengthening his grip on his war fork, determined to head straight back to Tel'Ruid.

The ettin had other plans.

It cleaved the air with the force of its blow, and it was by no more than an inch that the drow avoided losing his head. He spun quickly, his shield raised defensively, as his war fork searched for an opportune entry point. To Khalin's honed skills, it was only an instant before he found what he was looking for. The ettin swung hard with a typical, wide follow-through. Khalin took the opportunity to sink the prongs of his fork into the soft skin behind the giant's knee. It howled in response, favoring the leg as it spun to face the drow again.

Khalin moved around, goading attacks from the ettin, forcing it to make stupid mistakes. And each mistake was followed by a counterattack. The ettin overextended itself, allowing Khalin to pierce the giant's shoulder. It swung violently, allowing prongs to pierce its calves. The ettin let out howl after howl, agonizing in frustration — but its growing rage only brought more mistakes.

Then it happened again. Khalin felt invisible hands close around his heart, crushing it in flaming talons. He froze where he stood, and the enraged giant wasted no time taking advantage of the opportunity. It swung with all its might, connecting with the drow's shield. The metal shield screamed with the impact, shattering under the force of the blow, and sending Khalin backwards faster than his feet could manage.

He landed with a thud onto the ground, just as the pain in his chest momentarily subsided. He scurried to the side as the ettin's club came down in full swing. The ettin stumbled forward with the force of the blow, and Khalin saw his opportunity. There was the giant, collapsed before him, one of its heads dazed, awaiting a finishing strike.

But another surge of pain brought him crashing to his knees, as the war fork all but slipped from his grasp. He nearly doubled over with the force of it, and soon his elbows were on the ground as well. He knew how prone he was. In some distant awareness of his surroundings, he knew the ettin was recovering. But the crushing pain on his heart would not abate.

The ettin's club smashed into his side, pressing his shield arm against ribs, and cracking both. His slender frame flew effortlessly across the cool, damp grass and into the hard wall of the crypt. For the first time, he became aware of a pain greater than the pounding of his heart. Throughout his chest and arm, bone had been shattered, and his breaths escaped through the labored gurgle of blood in his lungs.

Khalin managed to prop himself up onto his good arm. He could no longer see the ettin — blood-soaked hair was now matted across his eyes, stinging as he tried to blink them clear. But he did not need eyes to feel the trembling of earth as the giant closed in. He heard the low-pitched whump of the club as it swung through the air. His final thoughts reached out in desperation: Joylah...

For just an instant there was the brightest starlight and a sick, wet crack.

Then, there was nothing.