The City Of Tuledare.
The shield of Saint Mar-che isn't like an ordinary magical item. Where they can be sensed by practitioners of magic, who actually, actively sense for such things.
As many don't, either because they're too lazy. Or because they've just forgotten to do so. Which is often the case.
The magical shield in the possession of sir Percavelle Le Dic. Who only has it because he originally stole it a number of years ago. From a fellow knight in his order, who had fallen in battle.
Is a magical shield pretty much unlike any other. And though magical items are rare to begin with. The shield of Saint Mar-che is one of rarest magical items ever. For the simple reason it can't really be sensed by spellcasters.
Pretty much most magical items, if they be weapons, trinkets, rings, armour or shields. Can be located by a general magical sense, over an area.
You don't have to be accurate about it at all.
Even Beldane the cleric's extremely powerful magical mace can be sensed in this way. Though that temperamental weapon, can sort of hide itself if it wants to, as it's partially aware.
But the even more powerful shield of Saint Mar-che in the hands of the noble born knight from the kingdom of Druvic. Is something else entirely different.
It can't be located by magically sensing in a general area. It can only be sensed as something magical if you directly pinpoint it by sight if you're a practitioner of magic.
And even then, you can't actually use one's magical senses. You have to actually cast a spell to do so. Such as a locate magical item spell, or something similar.
Even then you won't necessarily be able to identify it's properties. Such as what it's capable of. Only the most highly skilled of spellcasters would be able to do so.
Only one spellcaster in the group that travels with Lord Farque was able to locate and identify the shield of Saint Mar-che when they first encountered sir Percavelle Le Dic quite a number of years ago.
And that was Helbe the elven thief, the most skilled of the practitioners of magic in the group by quite some distance.
And true, there are others who can know that the rather plain looking footman's shield is magical. Such as Dorc da Orc who can actually smell anything magical. Wether a spellcaster, or a magical item.
Or magical creatures such as dragons and the like. Similarly one of the undead of Farque, who can locate and identify anything and anyone magical, no matter what it is.
So now, in a hallway on the west side of the massive circular building, in the center of the city of Tuledare, that is used by the ruling council of the city-state.
A sorcerer, whose magical traps have been activated and destroyed. And who is more than taken aback at what's just happened here this morning.
Sees a large, heavily armoured knight. Run around at the far end of the hallway, carrying a rectangular shaped shield out in front of him.
The caster of spells, who if he was actually onto it. Still wouldn't cast to identify anything magical about the large knight that's suddenly run around the corner at the other end of the hallway, and is now heading this way.
For the simple reason he's quickly sensed the large heavily armoured knight, and there's nothing magical about him, or anything he carries.
So the sorcerer, like pretty much all practitioners of magic when they're confronted by the charging sir Percavelle Le Dic.
They cast a spell at him. Which is often a mistake. Just like it is this time as the sorcerer is about to find out.
The sorcerer, steps forward, further in front of the remaining mercenaries. As about ten of them have fallen, either badly injured, or dead. After what's just happened.
Then as more often than not. The sorcerer drops his hastily erected barrier spell as it's impossible to cast through one if you want to keep it up.
So he drops the spell, and casts another spell. This one an offensive spell, unlike the defensive barrier spell.
Though if the sorcerer was more talented or skilled in his spellcasting abilities. He would've just cast the new spell in front of the barrier spell.
But far too many practitioners of magic want to cast their spells from their own bodies, particularly their hands. As is the case here with this sorcerer.
A man not yet thirty, and of medium height and weight. Who like the other mercenaries in the hallway, doesn't seem to be a local Tuledarian.
The other reason the sorcerer could of dropped the barrier spell, is because a lot of magic casters are unable to cast more than one spell at a time.
But that's not the case with this particular sorcerer, who can cast at least two spells at once.
So here, in a hallway on the west side of the massive circular building that houses the ruling council of the city-state of Tuledare.
It's basically vanity that delivers the sorcerer his fate. As he just wants to cast from his fingertips as he creates an energy blast that's directed at the charging sir Percavelle Le Dic.
Aiming directly at the middle of the large, rather plain looking footman's shield that the former paladin is holding out in front of him.
Back in the hallway from which sir Percavelle Le Dic has just come from. There's one who isn't going to miss out in what's happening.
For the simple reason he can't let the large, heavily armoured knight do something that he thinks he's infinitely better at doing.
"Can't let that fucken knight cunt have all the fun" Dorc da Orc mutters to himself in the language of the orks, when he sees his bitter rival, sir Percavelle Le Dic up ahead, run around the corner into the next hallway after Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy yells at him to go.
After they all hear and feel a number of explosions, come from the other hallway around the corner.
So the ork warleader being who he is, an ork. In this instance an ork who totally loathes the noble born knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name, well part of his given name, as his full name is much more longer, and complex than that. Or one could actually say silly, instead of complex. As ork names tend to be rather descriptive in their own language.
Takes off running, shouting "Out the way cunts!" in his deep, growling and rumbling voice.
The large ork leaves a startled Shur Kee the monk behind. As well as the infiltration squad led by Maiya Garney the lead scout.
Malisse aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman barely gets out of the way of the ork general in the Armies of Farque.
So too Zam the ex mercenary, who mutters "Fucking hell Dorc" when the big, burly ork from the southern polar region almost runs into him.
Members of field commander Tamric Drubine's staff, quickly get out of the way of the ork weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks.
And likewise for those at the end of the hallway at the corner. Beldane the cleric, Saanea the witch and Tamric Drubine the field commander, and finally Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy.
All of whom hop out of the way, to avoid getting barreled over by ork warleader who runs straight at them on his way to the corner, around to the right, is the next hallway along, in this part of the massive building, that's used by the ruling council of the city-state of Tuledare.
Dorkindle runs around the corner, with a wide maniacal looking grin of anticipation upon his broad, green, brutish looking face.
As he does, he hears a low, though loud sounding thud from further down the long hallway he's just run into.
Sir Percavelle Le Dic doesn't even see it hit. Though he guessed whatever it was the sorcerer was going to do, was going to hit him. Specifically the shield of Saint Mar-che. Which it did, right in the middle of the magical shield.
As he was running, the large heavily armoured knight who hails from the kingdom of Druvic, tensed up
After all he's more than accustomed to the effects of the magical shield he has in his possession.
And true to form, the magical shield does what the magical shield does. And it reflects the spell that hits it. And it sends it back to where it came from.
Much faster, and more powerful than it was originally delivered. Which is one of the properties of the shield of Saint Mar-che.
The energy blast cast by the sorcerer returns in an instant. The blue beam of energy slams into the sorcerer.
It's far too quick for him to react to it. And even if he could. Any shield he put up, either a barrier or protection spell.
Would be utterly destroyed by the returning energy blast which is many times more powerful than it originally was.
The sorcerer is instantly obliterated, and the energy blast continues on it's way, killing four of the mercenaries who were directly behind the sorcerer when he cast the spell.
The energy blast slams into the doors behind the rest of the mercenaries, smashing them to pieces, before it vanishes.
As for sir Percavelle Le Dic, who tensed in anticipation. The thing that usually happens when the shield of Saint Mar-che is hit by an offensive spell, happens.
And he's picked up and flung backwards in the direction he's come from, after all the force of the energy created by the spell, has to go somewhere.
So the former paladin isn't in the least surprised as he's flung backwards through the air, infact sir Percavelle Le Dic mutters "Saint Mar-che" as he's hurtled back in the direction he's come from.
Which incidentally, is exactly where his bitter rival, the ork warleader, Dorc da Orc has just run around the corner from . . . . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment