We ran through the dark, damp underbelly of the city – light drew long shadows across smooth wet brick, encrusted with moss and slime. We’ve run for an hour. Fought hordes of Kobolds trying to seal the entrance to the hobgoblins because they were enslaving them. Acid bolds scorched my armor – magic missiles dissipated against my magic night shield. Their blood slick across the sharp edges of our weapons and deaths – blood staining our armor and skin.
We hacked ourselves through a city of hobgoblins underground lair. Freeing their apathetic slaves that kept on milling around, unaware that their masters had been destroyed at our hands. We felt the hard blow of the earth elementals as we crushed their living rock. We killed the hobgoblin leader surrounded by spell casters, slayers and wolfs. They danced as the sphere cast it’s reflective irresistible light. The sundered, smoldered and burnt by the force of the casters fireball. And they died. Guttural thick cries of death as the Warforge and other fighters slew them – cut through their thick skin with deadly accuracy.
For all the traps trying to keep us away from the seal – the pain. The fires. Limbs healed from the crust of seared skin. The frozen armor breaking off at touch. We mended, healed – always moving forward. Our breaths, plumes of heavy exhales as the air grew thin and rancid. We dropped down. Pulled the final wheel. Dropped on feather fall wings onto the floor. There – at the pedestal. The grumbled heaps of rocks – but that was not the guardian. It rose as we stepped forward. Our forms blurred by magic – our resolve plated with shields of faith. Our warriors charged – we healers flung our wands to mortar any break, to repair any crack and to undo bruises, tears and gashing wounds. The guardians mighty club flung us across the room. Bodies slammed into walls. Broken bones unbroke and gritted warriors rose to challenge death again. So the guardian fell – and so did the other elementals too.
We found the seal.
There – in a circular room, steam rising from our armor and skins. Breath shallow and rapid. The long run – seemed so far away. Despite not having a rogue to remove traps. Despite the pain. Despite the challenge of almost certain death we rose to it. We didn’t say much as we walked all the way to the surface again. We didn’t say much when we parted. We didn’t split up in all directions to go and brag to our peers. Not like I might have done in my past life.
The warforge nodded. Then we were off. I went to the nearby tavern and found myself an empty chair in the corner. Taking greedy gulps for the best whine of the house. I relish life.
We are but three left from the old Guild. So we started a new one.
True Reborn. That we are.
Life – as it seem – reflecting the old. Reliving anew. Feeling alive.