The Siege of Palingrad, Part 3
As Fester and his guard emerged from the gates of Palingrad, Lord Gomez wished the Cat-O-Nine-Palt could target units. He would have stacked with his siege and flattened Fester without hesitation. As it was, the combined Turnamancy/Weirdomancy scroll Puglsey had cast on the Cat-O-Nine-Palt only allowed it to fire indiscriminately across hex boundaries.
Fester strolled casually down the road surrounded by his honor guard. When the League’s forces neared the hex boundary just outside the city, the Champions halted first and lined up at attention behind the Croakamancer. Fester, holding his favored Gnarly staff in one hand and a white kerchief in the other, walked right up to the hex wall and stared for a few moments at Lord Gomez, as if sizing up the Addams’ chief warlord. Then he smiled and waved his forces back.
Gomez watched eyed the enemy Champions as they moved farther away. They were five in number, all knight class heavy infantry and all heavily armed. None was lower than level 6. Their faces were masked by steel helms, and they were equipped with a variety of powerful magic items. It was clear to Gomez that they had been sent to intimidate the Addams’ leadership.
Fester finally tucked the white flag into a recessed pocket of his black robes and addressed his former comrade. “If you pinky swear not to harm me, brother, I’ll come over there and parley with you. There is something that you need to hear.”
Gomez sprinted to the hex wall and drew his sword in anger. “What right do you have to make demands of me, traitor! The only right that you have is to croak in battle by my hand.”
“Ah, Gomez, ever the hothead. It will be time for battle soon enough, I promise you. I cannot end our side’s turn, so what is the harm in whiling away the time with a bit of conversation. I’ll sweeten the pot; if you pinky swear not to harm me unless I act against you, I will give you a gift to show that there are no hard feelings.”
Morticia, who had nocked an arrow, lowered her bow and strode swiftly over to Lord Gomez. She bent down, her black leather armor creaking as she whispered in her lover’s ear, “I think we should take him up on his offer, my dear. We might learn something valuable and risk nothing in return.”
Gomez pouted for a solid minute, staring at the razor-sharp tip of his drawn rapier. Then he shrugged his shoulders and sighed, “Ok, Fester. I will not harm you unless you do something that could harm me or my side. Put your hand through the hex wall and I’ll swear.”
Fester grinned again and walked up to the boundary. “I swear that I will not, nor order my guard to, harm the Addams Family side until such time as we depart from the hex you currently occupy.” He stuck his hand past the boundary and wiggled his pinky playfully at Gomez.
Gomez walked up to the outstretched hand, still uncertain whether or not to simply cut it off. Deciding that it would be a futile gesture, he slowly sheathed his weapon and swore, “I swear that I and the units under my command will not harm you or your escort so long as any League of Legend’s unit does not attack the Addams Family, or until your forces leave my hex, or the end of your side’s turn arrives.”
The estranged brothers’ pinkies entwined, completing the verbal contract and activating the natural magic of the Pinky Swear. Gomez couldn’t help but notice that Fester’s finger was clammy; it was clear that his former brother was nervous about something. Gomez mentally ordered his assembled units to back away to allow them space as Fester entered the hex. He wasn’t sure what, but Fester was definitely up to something. The League of Legends Champions, apparently sharing Gomez’s distrust, formed a tight circle around the Necromancer.
Fester bowed low to Gomez, smiled at Morticia, and waved to Wednesday in greeting. Gomez quickly lost patience with the preamble. “Out with it! What do you want?”
“Merely to have a chat, of course. I haven’t seen any of you in ages. How is Overlord Itt?”
“If all you want is idle chit-chat, you’ll find none here, knave.” Gomez’s hand began to stray towards his scabbard before the magic of the Pinky Swear stopped him. “Blast it! I know I should have cut your hand off!”
Fester laughed. “You’ve done worse to me in training, so what difference would it make? No brother, I have information for you and an offer from King Dyrus, Master of the Twitch Alliance. Now, I see some Igors over by your siege engine. Kindly call one over so I can make sure that Pugsley’s been treating them well.”
Gomez scowled, “And if I don’t?”
“I could walk over and inspect it myself I suppose. The wording of your promise means you cannot force me me to leave the hex with violence, so I feel I can impose on you a bit.”
“Fine. Take a look and then tell me what you came to say. And then get out of my sight!” Gomez mentally ordered one of the Igors to re-animate and join his personal stack. The giant shambled over and, upon seeing Fester, followed a long-standing order to greet him.
“You rang?” it slowly asked the Croakamancer in an impossibly deep voice. Fester laughed with glee. “Yes, my child. Come over here that I can examine you properly. Gomez nodded his consent and the Igor happily ran over to its creator. The Champions dropped into combat stance as the golem-esque creature approached. Fester waved dismissively at them, and they resumed standing at attention.
“I don’t know if I ever told you this brother, but I built a little special ability into Lurch that all Igors have now. I never imagined those thousands of turns ago that things would turn out like this, but I’m glad that they did.”
The Croakamancer reached out and took the Igor’s index finger in his pasty white hand while Gomez watched in unwilling interest. The Croakamancer made a small movement that Gomez couldn’t quite follow and a flash of bright light erupted from the pair. Gomez immediately went for his rapier while his eyes desperately tried to refocus. He hadn’t quite recovered when a dark blob flew into him and bowled him over onto the ground. “Get down!” he heard Fester yell. Then it seemed like the whole Erf shook with a deafening Corpsexplosion.
Guys, concerning the helms...
German and the anglo-saxon parts of english have once been the same language - all part of the gemanic language family.
Ok - english has been mixed with latin by the romans, norwegian by the invading norse, later on a lot of french from the Normandy - and since migrating into the US has become mainly a vastly simplified pidgin language.
But looking at a classic shakespearian sentence like "What hast thou done?" vice versa the german "Was hast Du (ge)tan"One can clearly see the similarities.
Wisarse mode off