“So, what’s the deal?” Opun asked, leaning against the door frame. “Is the deal a go or not?”
“I don’t know yet,” Namolin replied, giving the six others in the room a cursory glance. “I haven’t gotten enough information yet.”
“The seven won’t be kept waiting,” Opun said, looking at his nails. “We appreciate your interest in our services, but surely you must have known the result if you walked away from us without making a deal.”
“I did,” Namolin said, feeling his heart skip a beat as he closed his eyes. His mind wandered back to the last night he looked up at the stars with his friend. Yostan had been so sure that adventuring would be a good idea. That was until they had arrived here and met a contact for the seven.
Namolin felt a surge of anger course through him as images of the bloodied elf filled his vision. The sound of his friend’s pained pleas to release him and the gutteral scream to run when they finally had opened his bindings.
Judgement materialized in his hands as the first of the seven stepped forward. It swung with the power of a runaway horse but with the ease of a paintbrush, cutting through the man as though he were made if paper. No even a scream managed to escape his lips as Judgement pulled the lifeforce of the first into itself.
“What the-” Opun said, his eye growing wide.
Namolin quickly changed the direction of the tip of the sword as he spun through the air as Yostan had taught him, letting the tip flick out in a quick motion into the face of the next closest enemy. With a pained scream, his target grabbed his face and fell to his knees as blood spewed from beneath his fingers.
They have been judged. Judgement whispered into Namolin’s mind. Claim them all.
The third stepped forward, drawing her own sword. It had nearly cleared the sheath when Judgement swung across her, slamming into the shining blade before breaking it in half and driving through her midsection. Namolin watched the light fade from her eyes as they became glass-like and fake looking.
When Namolin spun to impale the fourth, his target moved suddenly two feet to the left, dodging the strike with a cold, calculated laugh that sent a shiver up his spine. The fourth continued the odd sprialing dance up the length of Judgement, producing two black metal daggers with vicious-looking barks jutting from the blades.
“You’re good, I’ll give you that, but you’re not that good,” the fourth said with a knowing grin as he brought the weapons down toward Namolin’s wrists.
To Namolin’s surprise, the hilt of the sword, suddenly thrust itself out of his grip, pulling his hands out of the way as the blade rolled over and sliced into the side of the fourth. With a gutteral scream, the fourth twisted sideways, sending the daggers slicing through the air and cutting through Namolin’s armor, leaving deep gashes across his chest.
Namolin cried out in pain as he reached forward, finding the hilt waiting for him as he twisted teh sword and brought the sword straight up and through the fourth with all the power he could muster.
“No!” he heard another yell from behind him.
Namolin spun to find the fifth and sixth rushing toward him. The fifth’s left hand held what looked like a small mote of fire which steadily grew with each approaching step, while the sixth went in bare handed. He spun and twisted, trying to avoid the attacks, but realizing halfway through his movement that it was only going to be one in which he could dodge.
The fifth was a magic user, and while Namolin didn’t know the strength at which they were using a spell, the result was clear to him. He could dodge the magical attack, let the bare handed fighter through, and deal with them both at the same time with a spiral slice, one high and one low to ensure that he got them both. The magic would undoubtedly hit harder than a punch, and seemed like the simplest option, but the bare-handed fighter has such fire burning in his eyes that it made Namolin uncomfortable.
Weighing his options quickly, Namolin brought Judgement close to his chest, allowing his body to spin faster than it should. The punch landed solidly as pain exploded through his side. The air in his lungs pushed out as he felt his ribs collapse under the pressure. He would have screamed if his body had held any air as he slammed to the floor and slid up against the wall.
“You fucked up,” the sixth said as the fifth’s spell exploded around his head.
Namolin was suddenly only aware of heat and light coming from where he had just seen the sixth’s face. He covered his eyes, trying to shield himself from the blast, but only finding slight relief from the flames. Inside the fireball, the sixth’s form writhed and shook as Namolin heard the screams. The fifth stood there, hand extended with a mask of horror fixated to his face.
Seizing his opportunity, Namolin adjusted his grip on Judgement and sprang from teh ground, driving the top of the blade straight through the bottom of the fifth’s jaw before exiting through the top of his skull.
Quickly! The sixth! Judgement demanded, forcing Namolin’s attention to the fire once more. He spun, pulling the blade from the fifth as he thrust the blade into the sixth.
Namolin stepped toward Opun, the seventh, as he let the sixth slide from his blade. His gait was measured and calm as the fear spread across Opun’s face.
“Who are you? What do you want? Please, let me live. I’ll give you anything you want!” Opun pleaded as he backed away from Namolin.
“You have been judged,” Namolin replied, letting the blade guide itself through the heart of the last of the seven. He felt the surge of power course through Judgement as white, radiant energy burst from every part of Opun reducing him to ash on the floor.
“It is done,” Namolin said, taking a knee as he breathed heavily against the pain in his ribs.
Jonathan M. Leighton, Jr. 