Chapter 7: Fresh Meat (1/2)
[How could I be so stupid? I basically left up a giant sign saying ”Yes! I'm from another world. Please drag me off to your science/torture/sex dungeon now.”] Mike cursed internally while furiously try to interact with his status screen.
[Come on...there has to be a way...Aha!] With a little bit of effort he was able to deactivate his Multiverse Traveler title leaving his [Status] screen showing Title: None.
He blew out a sigh of relief, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed his sudden panic, only to find a strange tension had settled over the group.
Beorn was holding his hand open, seemingly signaling a halt. He motioned Kaya with him and stepped back to confer with Morris. ”Something's not right. We should have been challenged by the sentries by now.” He sniffed the air a bit. ”I smell smoke…and blood.” He grimaced, looking around at the group. ”We're going in. Stay sharp and expect trouble. Morris, keep an eye on the boy and get the men ready for some close work.”
Morris made his way back to the rest of the group and whispered a few quick instructions before drawing his sword. He paused as he reached Mike, before taking out a small dagger and passing it over handle first.
”Try not to hurt yourself with that.” He said with a half-heated grin. ”Stick close to me, I'll keep you safe.”
Mike could only nod in response. He was working hard to control the unease threatening to overwhelm him.
As the group moved forward, they entered a lower lying area, largely clear of brush. The group spread out, keeping a close watch on their surroundings. The last vestiges of sunlight still dimly lit the area, letting Mike see a camp site taking shelter under a ring of particularly large trees. Crumpled forms could be seen lying on the ground both within and just outside the site. A slight metallic, coppery scent filled the air. Mike gulped down a sudden surge of bile.
A slight moan suddenly sounded from one of the bundles lying against a tree. One of the Order members stepped forward to investigate. Mike could see the concerned look on his face as he approached the tree. He was reaching down to move the crumpled form when Beorn suddenly cried out.
”Wait! It's a trap!”
The man turned to look back, when a high-pitched whine split the air. There was a flash of silvery light and suddenly the Order member's head was sent flying. As his body collapsed, Mike could a tall, shaven headed man dressed in ragged black leathers. A long, wickedly curved scimitar clutched in one hand, was held parallel to the ground above the fallen Order member.
Mike found himself trembling as examined the man. Scars covered almost every section of visible skin the man displayed. Most horrifying, however, was his face. Sections of his cheeks had been carved out displaying the teeth and gums beneath in a bizarre rictus of a grin. A palpable aura of dread seemed to drip from him as he waved forward towards the Order group.
This must have been a sign, because at his wave the forest erupted in a cacophony of screams and war cries, as dozens of ragged humanoid figures charged.
”Anhilites!” Beorn yelled. ”Circle Up! Fire when ready!”