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Bad Intel

It’s fiction time again, and this little piece was some background fluff for  a fantasy character in my friend’s Savage Elhal campaign. Deklan may be short in stature, but he makes up for it with courage and toughness.

For your reading pleasure, I give you “Bad Intel”:

The battle was a disaster. The field was littered with bodies, most of them human, and the Demons were overrunning their position. Something had gone horribly wrong with their intel. What was supposed to be a couple of squads had turned out to be an entire battalion, and now it didn’t look like any of the humans were going to make it out alive. The Brotherhood of Steel were attempting a fighting retreat, but with so many Demons it was very unlikely they’d make it back over the hill, let alone manage a complete escape.

Deklan was tired. Somehow he’d managed to avoid getting overrun so far, but it’s just not easy to kill Demons. The soldiers are relentless, fearless, and their armor is hard to breach. Glancing around he couldn’t see any of his fellow Brothers, and there had been a dozen in his squad, himself included. That nearly drained what little energy he had left. A few paces away he saw one of the bowmen frantically scrambling to back away from a Demon soldier. Summoning everything he had left inside, Deklan sprinted over and threw himself between the two combatants. He grunted hard as the Demon blade crashed against his shield, sending a sharp pain up his arm and into his shoulder. Another blow landed before he could regain his footing, this time driving him down to one knee. Several arrows bounced off the Demon’s armor, as the bowman barely had enough strength left to draw the string. Deklan looked up to see the Demon preparing an overhand chop, so he forced his shield up one more time and tried to backpedal. The heavy Ebon sword drove the shield down, but was deflected just enough to prevent the blade from splitting his head. Unfortunately the point of the blade dug into Deklan’s helmet, penetrating it like paper and scoring down across his eye. Pain lanced through his skull as he tried to roll away from the Demon, but he could no longer see the enemy through the injured eye. Frantically he swung his head around trying to locate the Demon, but it was too late. The black blade was coming towards him in a sideways arc, clearly intent on removing his head, and there was no time to avoid the inevitable. Deklan closed his one good eye and prepared to meet the All-Father.

A blast of force hit Deklan in the chest and threw him backward. Dazed and confused, he could only make out a lot of explosions and frantic activity. Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder, and he spun around only to fall on his face in the mud. “It’s ok, I’m here to help!” a muffled voice told him, and then he was consumed by blackness.

Hours later he was recovering in a tent, and word of their rescue was finally being relayed to those who hadn’t been privy to it first-hand. It seems another group had arrived on the scene with a Mage, and turned the tide. “I’m afraid you’ll never see out of that eye again,” the medic told him. With a firm, quiet voice, Deklan turned to the medic and said “As long as the other one is still good, I’ll fight on.”

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