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Fatima's Diary
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reflections for the lost
36. Webs of Retreat and Quick Kills
The sun was quickly sinking to the horizon when we finally settled on a plan. I have a great deal of respect for Sanantha, but sometimes her bull-headedness about frontal assaults waste valuable time. Every plan of attack doesn't have to include a triumphant entry on horseback, pennets dancing on the wind from lancetips. I was arguing for an attack on the water demon in the lake, so that we could sneak in from the back and spring invisible on our prey. Sanantha, Bramblebeard, Lobar and Malakon all argued that they would be useless without their armor, which would have to be shed for the underwater sortie. They seem to not understand that if they didn't want to participate with the melee, then they shouldn't. It's not like every combat is saved by their axe and sword slinging, especially against single foes. They are always too busy hacking about at things to realize the damage that I, Anathea, Grayn, and Whit (grudgingly) can parcel out to our foes.Our new friend Cheswyth, the Sheriff, has picked some of his men to man stout longbows and cover the escape of any creature from the lake. Hopefully he will be skillful enough to pick one of us out from the vile fey.
I have kept the new skills that I have been practising from the Manual from my companions, as I am unsure of their feelings towards me studying the assassin's arts. Considering that House Abrantier has been liberal in their hiring and use of assassins, perhaps my training will give me enough of an edge back at them to give me the upper hand. Perhaps one day soon I will use my new skills to consummate perfection. After I pointed out that the sun was soon to set, they hastily agreed on a plan which stank heavily of "frontal assault." Anathea and I were to break into the upper floor and bring light streaming into the single room upstairs while the rest of my companions were going to break into two different sides of the lower story and attack any foe they could find.
The fight unfolded like this: I, Grayn and Anathea broke into the top story room and caught four Spriggans and two Boggarts by surprise. I flew in, sunlight streaming around me, framing me with a halo like some kind of Alu-fiend winged Angel, and struck a Spriggan to the floor with a well-aimed strike with Rihana's rapier. Anathea threw open another window and the vile fey scattered, heading for the stairwell. At this time, Labrinnon really showed his weight in gems by throwing a web over the trapdoor leading to the cellar on the first level of the winery. I am told this sealed away the trapdoor to all but the Redcap who was standing beside it. He was able to flee the light to the cellar below. We would meet him again very soon.
The webbing spiraled up the stairwell and almost caught a Spriggan in it's grasp. Once the web attached itself all the way to the ceiling of our room, I realized that Anathea, Grayn and I might not be enough to snuff the darkness from our foes. I struck another Spriggan within a shallow breath of its death and Anathea quickly finished off the foul beast. I was surrounded by the two Boggarts and they dealt me staggering blows with their tails. Grayn rained a hail of blows with his stout staffupon a Boggart, but the beast still slashed its tail and claws at me. At this time the Spriggans suddenly grew to twice their height. Their squealing squeaks of attack grew into full chested, ear-ringing bellows. One of my last clear memories was Anathea smiling as she Blessed them and faced their screams of rage as they shrank back to their diminutive state.
My head spinning, I had time enough to make two steps to the south to firmly place my back against a wall as Anathea retreated to the other side of the room. My head was swimming with the blood pouring out from my two wounds, one across my shoulder and another down my back. I could feel my blood coming down the backs of my soft leather trews as I tried to press myself against the wall for stability. I fended off the two Boggarts for a period of time that I cannot grasp. The next thing I knew Malakon came bounding into the room leveling foe right and left with his sword Tarius, along with Alial, I think. Even now, when I think of that time I see two black-scaled, horribly twisted Boggart faces leering and grinning at me, mixing their tails and language with grunts and cackles. I was healed by Anathea and assisted in flanking and killing the last Boggarts, I think. I prefer to keep my thoughts away from that combat. Perhaps later, with a clearer head than now I will be able to reflect upon this and dissect my mistakes.
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