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Reforged pt 3

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Arthur did not sleep well that night; his dreams were filled with visions of Sabrina and the village carpenter. Tossing and turning, he awoke several times before early morning but, the final time he rose was for a reason other than dreams. Bolting upright, the blacksmith had been awakened by the sounds of fearful cries, the peal of metal on metal, and a foreboding, acrid scent of burning wood. Throwing the covers aside, he immediately got to his feet. Having gone to bed in his night time clothes, he didn't bother throwing anything else on as he emerged from his bedroom and into the house's common room.

Two sets of glowing red eyes turned to regard him as he joined Lucas and Harold; Peter was noticeably absent. His question was immediate. "Where is your brother?"

Both of them glanced toward the door leading to the workshop but it was Harold who spoke up first. "He went out the back door, Dad... he thinks the town is under attack."

Despite the absurdity of a town the size of Hearthbridge being sacked, Arthur had to admit that it had also been his first presumption. Peter, out of all of his sons was the least likely to stand idly by when an injustice was being committed but the blacksmith had always told them the importance of remaining inside during the night time hours; the townsfolk barely tolerated them and it only got worse if one of the three was out in the darkness.

Gritting his teeth, Arthur spoke quickly as he went for the door. "How long ago?"

Lucas answered. "He just left."

Moving for the door, the Human had just reached for the handle when it opened. Peter peered in, a shaped sword-blank in one hand as he addressed his brothers "Stay here. I am going to see if I--"

The words ended the moment he spotted Arthur. The Blacksmith pointed at the floor in front of himself and, without a word, Peter stepped into the room and moved to that precise spot. The Human held out his hand. "You aren't going anywhere, Peter."

The Minotaur put the not-quite-formed weapon into the blacksmith's hand reluctantly, murmuring "I think there is trouble out there, Father."

Noises beyond the shop had all but confirmed Peter's fears at that point and Arthur found it difficult to argue against the statement, but he pointed out the obvious "If that is the case you won't do any good out there, son... we both know it."

Peter hung his head, offering a helpless half-nod. Ever since he'd been attacked by brigands as a calf he was unable to stand in the face of violence; even when it didn't involve him he froze in place like a deer before a lantern whenever an altercation occurred in his presence. Closing his eyes, the Minotaur shook his head back and forth in self-disgust. "I can't just stay here and do nothing, Father-- I can't."

Arthur's statement was spoken with the full, Kord-given authority of a father to his son. "You will, and you can."

Harold leaned back against the stones of the hearth, idly picking at some of the grayer coals. "We don't owe the town anything anyway... if there IS a problem we can help dad more by keeping the smithy safe."

Lucas skittered over to the Minotaur and patted Peter's thigh. "Yeah... don't worry, Peter... if anyone comes here we'll protect you."

Arthur could tell that his eldest son didn't like the statement but the Minotaur didn't respond, except to let out an audible snort. The blacksmith gripped the unfinished hilt of the sword blank as he headed for the front door. "You'll all protect one another and the smithy. Stay here until I return."

Harold stood, dropping a faintly burning coal back from whence he'd picked it up. "Dad! You should stay here with us! There's no reason for you to go out there either!"

Lucas stepped away from Peter and toward the Human as well. "Right! You're not part of the militia anymore, dad... you should be here protecting the house with us!"

Peter's arms quivered slightly, his fists clenched tightly as he spoke softly "Don't leave us, Father..."

Arthur slid the sword blank into his belt and moved to where his three sons stood. He quickly folded his arms as far around all three of them. "Family is the most important thing, my sons... and I have to go get Sabrina."

None of his sons liked her, that much he knew; it was all the more surprising then when Harold stated "Let us go with you."

Lucas didn't even hesitate for a moment. "Right. We can help."

Arthur shook his head. "No boys... you have to be here to protect the house and the workshop. I need you to look after your brother."

Peter snorted again, turning away in shame, but he didn't object to the statement; the Minotaur simply walked back to his bedding and flopped down, putting his face in his enormous hands. Harold glanced to his elder brother then back at the blacksmith. Motioning to the reclining Minotaur and then the Kobold, the Gnoll stated "Lucas can stay here with him and I'll come with you to--"

Not having the time to argue the point, Arthur disengaged. "I have already told you your duty, boys. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Unwilling to listen to further objections, the blacksmith went for the front door, fervently praying to Kord that whatever was going on wasn't beyond his capacity. The sword blank in his grasp was not a real weapon, but if the town were in as dire straights as it sounded, he knew he wouldn't have the opportunity to be picky; if his luck held and Kord was on his side, he would find one on the way to the carpenter's.

Stepping out into the street in front of his home, Arthur's senses were barraged by the strong scent of smoke. No longer blocked from it by his home, the blacksmith could tell that more than wood was burning and his stomach churned when he realized that there was the greasy, pungent stench of charred flesh mixed in with it. In the distance he could hear cries of pain and sorrow, removing any doubt in his mind what was happening; Hearthbridge really and truly was being attacked.

Arthur moved quickly despite his lamed leg, adrenaline pushing him to close the distance between the smithy and the carpenter's home. Although both craftsmen worked on the same village street they were almost on opposite sides of Hearthbridge and it was slow going for the crippled smith, but he had his mind set on getting there. Although he ardently wished he wouldn't find Sabrina there he was far past the point of deluding himself and he was far more concerned for her safety than any infidelity on her part.

The thousands of thoughts running through his mind came to a screeching halt however when he saw dark, surreal shapes soar between the columns of smoke rising into the sky, bottom-lit by the fires engulfing the southern part of the village. The blacksmith only slowed long enough to make a warding gesture in front of himself and send a quick prayer in opposition of evil to Kord. Arthur was no priest, but it gave him comfort to know that his deity might provide him a blessing when facing the unknown.

During his journey Arthur heard the sounds of an attacking force on either side of the main thoroughfare but, whether due to his prayer or pure dumb luck, he managed to make it down the street without seeing a single invader. It pained him to push the needs of his neighbors and fellow townsfolk aside but, as he always told his sons: family came first. That thought continued to bounce around his skull as he arrived at the carpenter's home and saw that it was on fire.

Arthur's first inclination was to race inside but, as he stepped closer, he realized in a so-very-painful way that it was not necessary: two bodies lay outside in the street. The blacksmith approached slowly and, once he realized that the corpses were a man and a woman, he fought the deep pit that was growing rapidly in his stomach. Looking down, he just stared at them: Sabrina was laying on her back, an arrow protruding from her chest with her white nightgown stained around it with her blood. The carpenter, he noticed, had been shot in the back, most obviously having been trying to flee.

There was an element of dark satisfaction in that simple observation; Arthur had never thought well of the village carpenter, and that was before he found out that man had been having sex with Sabrina. Knowing that the carpenter couldn't stand and take his fate in even the way that Sabrina obviously had... it wasn't much comfort, but it was something. Gritting his teeth, Arthur stuffed the sword blank into his belt and knelt down to pick up his partner. It was not an easy feat since he didn't have the benefit of two working legs, but somehow he still managed. Turning back north toward his shop, he came to a stop as a figure came into view, stepping out into the street from a side alley.

The figure was an imposing one, with a strange darkness that seemed to mute the flickering firelight that lit it in the dim early morning. It stood in the street facing Arthur, body encased in what first appeared to be chain armor but, as the blacksmith stepped forward, he realized that it was, in fact, a plethora of loose chains wrapped tightly around its body. Two glowing, red eyes peered out at him from beneath the metal links surrounding its face. It ultimately spoke, and when it did a chill ran up Arthur's spine. "You... must be the blacksmith..."

Transferring the weight of Sabrina to one shoulder, Arthur fumbled to draw his makeshift weapon. "What do you want? Let me pass."

The strange being stepped closer, spreading its arms wide. Several loose chains that were draped from its limbs quivered, rising up like snakes hanging off of branches and, before Arthur's eyes, the smooth links suddenly sprouted thorns and razors. "You will take me to your home. Do this. Now."

Arthur had no doubt that the being standing before him was evil, and he had no intention of complying-- not only because he could not stand the thought of facing Kord in the afterlife for doing the bidding of such a despicable creature that felt so WRONG but, moreover, because his sons were there, and he wouldn't let the thing anywhere near them. His answer was simple and swift. "No."

Although he could not see its face, the blacksmith could hear the thing's sneer in its words. "Then I will rend your soul from your bloody corpse and have IT reveal what it is I need to know."

Four chains lashed out at him with lightning speed, far faster than Arthur could track. The sound of metal striking flesh was not accompanied by pain, however, and the blacksmith was aghast to realize that, as he turned to evade the blows, the majority of the blows had struck Sabrina's corpse. The fourth, which had missed, whipped back suddenly and caught him on the cheek, taking with it a spray of blood and pushing the thoughts of his partner's corpse to the back of his mind; if he didn't wish to end up in the same condition he would have to fight.

Arthur was rusty when it came to the art of warfare, and he had no doubt that even a seasoned warrior would be hard pressed to face off against whatever manifestation of evil stood before him. He acknowledged that it looked to be in the shape of a man, but the backsmith could tell that it was not just otherworldly-- it was wrong. Stuck somewhere between anger and sorrow, desperation and fury, Arthur charged.

The man-shaped creature just laughed, standing before him as if challenging Arthur to strike without even bothering to defend itself, and strike he did. The sword blank was no real weapon, and the blacksmith had his doubts as to whether it would be capable of doing anything to a mortal foe, let alone a manifestation of immortal evil, but they were both surprised when the dull blade slipped seamlessly through the chain and bit into the unholy flesh beneath, raising up a gout of steam and the crackling pop of seared flesh.

The profane being fell back, crying out in surprise and anger. "Cold Iron?!? Curse you, blacksmith-- This is NOT over!"

Faster than Arthur could track, the creature sprang to the side, disappearing down the alley far more agile than he could hope to match with a lamed leg. He lingered for only a moment before suddenly realizing that, for whatever reason, the beast had some reason to find his shop. He gasped breathlessly "Boys!"

For the second time in the predawn hours Arthur found himself spurred on by adrenaline, moving as fast as his shattered leg could carry him as he ran back toward home. Every breath was a gasp for air on the intake and a prayer to Kord on the exhale, hoping against hope that he would make it back to the smithy before the demonic, chain-covered creature. Fortunately, unlike his search for Sabrina, when he arrived back at his home he didn't stumble upon death and destruction.

The moment he spotted the door to his home he also saw three sets of eyes staring out from behind the frosted glass windows. The door opened and his sons stepped out onto the porch; Peter was in the front and obediently kept his brothers from going any further. The Minotaur's tail lashed back and forth. "Thank Kord you're safe."

Arthur realized there wasn't any time to spare. "Gather your things. All of you. We need to get to the Sanctuary."

Harold made a face. "The temple of Hieroneous? It always smells like copper and incense in there, Dad."

The Gnoll's sense of smell was far superior to the Human's, but Arthur was far more concerned with his sons' safety than comfort. "Now. No arguments. Go."

Peter ushered his brothers back in, but Lucas lingered long enough to point out "You're bleeding, Dad... are you okay?"

The blacksmith raised a hand to touch his cheek and his fingers came away stained red. He pressed his palm to the side of his face and drew it back; there wasn't any great amount of blood which meant it was superficial. "I'll be fine. Go join your brothers, Peter... we need to go as soon as we can."

The Minotaur stood there a moment longer before turning back and following his brothers. Harold called from within the house but Arthur couldn't make out what the Gnoll had said, but he didn't miss Peter's reply. "I don't know... she's not with him."

Their conjecture struck a chord in the blacksmith when he realized that he'd not paused to collect Sabrina's body; he'd been so concerned about his boys that he'd left her where she fell. He pushed pain and self-reproach to the side, realizing there'd be time for it later, but, in the moment, the most important thing was to protect his boys. Arthur still didn't know who was attacking Hearthbridge nor anything specific about the profane creature he fought on the streets but he had no doubts that they would not be safe... especially because his opponent had known who he was, and had business at the smithy. He turned his back to the door, keeping guard as he gazed out across the street.

The sound of something ceramic breaking inside his home caught his attention, but it was the cry of alarm that drove the concern home. Arthur turned back, calling out for his sons as he stepped inside. "Boys? BOYS?!" What he saw froze his heart.

The chain-covered being from the street was in his home, and he held a section of chain with blood dripping off it in one hand; the other had a hold of Lucas, who was wrapped up and struggling in another long length of links. Arthur drew his sword blank immediately, quickly surveying the rest of the scene; Peter was huddled in the corner in the fetal position and Harold was laying on the floor, clutching his ear, which was dribbling blood.

The dark figure before him took a step closer, jingling Lucas at the end of a chain. "Step aside, blacksmith... I have what I came for."

Nothing made sense-- the attack on the town; the death of Sabrina; the abyssal creature before him attempting to kidnap one of his sons; none of it. One thing that did make sense, however, was that Lucas was in danger. "You cannot have him."

The chain-covered figure's glowing-red eyes narrowed behind the veil of links covering its face. "My master thought you would be a problem... all the more fun for me."

The fight began without any other warning. The demonic creature moved with surreal speed, one chain in its free arm becoming two as it launched a sweeping attack. Arthur somehow managed to step inside the effective range of the blows, wincing as he took the weight of the links against his ribs to lesser effect, and brought his weapon to bear, swinging the sword blank in a downward chop but, rather than defend itself, the figure loosened the chains surrounding its head and, in the split second before the blow landed, Arthur found himself looking at the face of Sabrina.

By reflex alone the dull blade turned aside and glanced off of the chains serving as his opponent's armor. Sabrina's face turned into a malicious scowl and he heard the dark thing's voice speak from her lips as the links reformed a flawless coif around her visage. "Humans... weak of body AND mind."

Arthur felt the sting of the bladed chains as they collided with his chest, knocking him back as the creature struck him with a solid blow. He fell to one knee, growling in an attempt to overcome the pain of his torn flesh as he strove to stand; he realized a moment later that, in the surprise of seeing Sabrina's face on the demonic creature he'd dropped his sword, and he stood completely unarmed.

Glancing around, the blacksmith picked up the only other weapon that was anywhere nearby; his spare hammer he kept on a peg near the door. Turning back to face the chain-covered figure, he was surprised to see that it was already approaching, its double-chains swinging around in a large arc through the air. With no other option than to fall back, Arthur threw himself through the front door and tumbled out onto the street; his attacker followed. Rising up again, the Human stood his ground, brandishing his hammer. "You can't have him... not while I'm drawing breath!"

The chains around the thing's mouth fell loose, revealing desiccated, dark-colored skin and its thin, parched lips pulled back, revealing sharp teeth that grinned at him. "Yes, blacksmith... that was the plan."

Arthur let out a war cry, charging toward his opponent, and he brought the hammer down with all his might, but it felt as if the figure gave no more than his anvil, and the blow bounced off; he was lashed along his bad leg for his trouble, and it gave out, causing him to fall to his knees yet again. The demonic creature continued grinning down at him, its chains winding up for the death blow. It would have landed, if not for a sword blank cleaving into its shoulder from behind, accentuated by a growling roar from Harold.

The blacksmith rolled to the side as the demon fell forward but, rather than fall flat, it extended a free arm, launching out two chains to latch onto the chimney of the roof opposite the shop on the street and yank itself off the ground, and up onto the roof. Arthur was helped up by Harold and both turned to regard the figure's silhouette as it stood there, backlit by the moon. The blacksmith screamed at the creature "Release my son!"

The chains flowed back across the no-longer-smiling mouth as the being's baleful red eyes gazed down at him. The chain length on its right arm slid down into its hand, links fusing together until it resembled a pole arm of some kind, and it spoke calmly "I will not... and I can't very well have you and your two pets following me... so....."

It all happened far faster than Arthur was able to track, but everything seemed to slow down; an arc of red blossomed from his chest, looking more like a flower than a spray of blood; it was beautiful in a way, but it did not hold Arthur's attention for long. The blunted, distant sense of agony as the spear like chain length tore through him was a vague sensation; what hurt more was the sudden and anguishing expressions of surprise and alarm on Harold's muzzle, and Peter's cry from the doorway.

His mind tried to process all of these things even as he realized that, no matter how much strength remained in his body, he could not go back and change the last three seconds. No, the blacksmith understood that, despite still having life in him, he was as good as dead. A moment later the ground rose up to meet him, amidst cries from his sons. The calls were distant, and growing further away by the moment. There were exclamations, pleads, and bargaining; paws and hands moved over his body, frantically attempting to do what little they could to try and help, but Arthur knew it was already too late.

His gaze remained on Lucas as the Kobold was carried away from him on the rooftops, but his vision was quickly blocked by Peter's face; the minotaur wore an expression of pure anguish, tears pouring down his cheek fur as he grasped for the blacksmith. "F-Father? You're hurt. father? D-dad? Daddy?"

Summoning up the last of his strength, Arthur raised his hand, gripping the Minotaur's wrist with all of his might as he said what was most important. "Find Lucas... Care... for each other."

Unable to maintain his hold, Arthur's hand went slack. He felt cold, and he started shivering. The pain, surprisingly, was lessening even more with each breath which, unfortunately, was harder and harder to draw in. Harold was speaking angrily, but the blacksmith couldn't make out the words. Peter was all but ignoring the Gnoll, crying over Arthur in a way that the Human knew wasn't productive; they had to help Lucas!

After what was probably far too long, Harold ran off down the street, leaving Arthur in Peter's embrace. The blacksmith heard his eldest speak Kord's name, and he could tell that the Minotaur was praying. The Human didn't know how long the prayer was, but, at some point, Peter switched to a different tongue, his son spoke in Minotaur, which, to Arthur's knowledge, he hadn't used in years; it held the same tone of invocation, likely a prayer to whatever deity watched over the bull men.

From there, Peter switched back to common, and began to go through the entire pantheon. Arthur had always told his sons to seek their own spiritual truth; he couldn't fault his eldest for seeking succor from any god who would grant it and, as he continued to feel his life slipping away he ardently prayed as well, but his petition to Kord was that Peter would find peace. His prayer was not answered though as a loud hiss silenced the Minotaur mid-prayer. Peter looked up, and moved with a start, rising to his feet.

Although Arthur couldn't see, and could barely even acknowledge the presence that approached from the alley he could feel the wrongness with it. There was a darkness to whatever emerged from the shadows and that impression only grew more powerful when it spoke. It was a small, raspy voice, high pitched and grating. "So the coward stays to mourn? All the easier to finish the task."

The blacksmith heard the flapping of leathery wings; it wasn't hard to let his head drop to the side, the haze before his eyes making it hard to completely perceive the little creature hobble-flapping toward him, its barbed tail lashing back and forth across the surface of snow on the street. The loud stomp of a hoof on the cobblestone was Peter's first reply, followed by a surprisingly stalwart response. "Leave him be!"

The tiny demon sneered. "And who will stop me? You?"

Peter's voice cracked as he called out. "Help! S-someone, please! H-Help! Help us!"

The little profane creature cackled. "Now stand aside, cow... I will tend to you after I finish with this mess."

"N-no."

The disgusting visage of the demonic creature scrunched up into an even uglier expression as it regarded the Minotaur "Well... I can always deal with you FIRST then... I'm going to enjoy hearing your screams big boy when I--"

The impact of a hoof striking the creature was much clearer than Arthur's vision of the little beast sailing across the street and colliding with the stone wall of a home. A moment later Peter filled his vision again as the Minotaur peered over him. "Father? A-are... are you still with me?"

Arthur somehow managed to find the strength to smile. "You... stood up to it."

Although he knew his son was strong, Peter had never really been physical with him, so he was surprised when the Minotaur picked him up as easily as if the Human were a bag of coal for the forge. "I'm not leaving you, Father. I'll find help. I promise."

Even barely conscious, Arthur could tell there was something different about his son. Peter carried him down the street, each step punctuated by another word as the Minotaur continued going through a litany of gods. Each time a prayer ended another picked up in its place. The blacksmith was dimly aware of more wrongness following them and, ultimately, Peter had to come to a stop as a half score more of the little winged demonic creatures stepped out of the shadows and into the dim pre-dawn light. Arthur wanted to tell his son to leave him and get to safety, but he was only half-conscious by that point, and words were beyond him.

The blacksmith was unable to track what was happening but his son moved with speed and power, constantly shifting him between arms to keep him out of the way of the gnashing claws and swinging, stinger-tipped tails of his assailants. Arthur's vision continued to grow cloudy, and he could tell that his son's shoulders and chest were drenched with his blood and yet, even though his vision became darker, he could feel the warmth of the sunrise. But then, something happened that defied all of his senses.

The sound of combat had ended, and had Peter's voice, which had continued to pray through the entire confrontation. Silence filled Arthur's ears and, for the first time since he had been mortally wounded, the blacksmith no longer felt pain. His body settled against the street as golden light filled his blurry gaze. It must have been the sun, he decided; he would be able to enjoy that one last sunrise. But then, surprisingly, his vision began to clear, and he saw that the glow was coming from Peter.

His son gazed down at him, eyes gleaming a soft azure hue as the Minotaur whispered softly. As Arthur watched, Peter's matted fur flushed of color like woolen yarn being bleached. His eldest son's hide turned pure white, except for his mane which gleamed golden in the early morning son and, as Peter's whispered prayer concluded, the blacksmith felt the torn flesh of his chest close. Shaking faintly, the Minotaur closed his eyes and a final tear rolled down his cheek, his voice quivering with emotion. "H-hieroneous... thank you."