Duelling Dungeons

Vaughn stumbled back, struggling to maintain his feet as Rembrandt strode after him. The Curseblade twisted sideways, trying to plunge one of his short blades into the Revenant’s chest, only for Rembrandt to effortlessly deflect the attack with his greatsword.

“Is that the best you can do?” Rembrandt asked. “I was expecting you to provide more of a challenge after all that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve still got plenty in my bag of tricks,” Vaughn panted. “I’m sure something will get through. All I need to do is scratch you, and I can start crippling you with curses. Just you wait.”

“You should have spent less time practicing your tricks and flourishes and more time on your training,” Rembrandt replied calmly. “I’m not like your average adventurer; I don’t care about making an impression on the audience, only on my enemies.”

As if to emphasize what he was saying, Rembrandt stepped forward and brought his sword down in a powerful horizontal slash. Instead of blocking, Vaughn threw himself to the side, just barely avoiding the blow.

Seeing an opening, Vaughn dashed forward, trying to slice at Rembrandt before the Revenant could raise his sword to block. As Vaughn swung his blades, seeking a chink in his opponent’s armour, Rembrandt flipped the grip on his sword and stepped behind the massive blade. With the tip of his sword still embedded in the ground, Rembrandt swept his arm from left to right, causing the greatsword to tilt rapidly.

The heavy blade smashed into Vaughn’s much lighter blade, sending the Curseblade stumbling to the side, and before he could recover, Rembrandt stepped forward and kicked his opponent in the side, sending him tumbling to the floor.

“I guess I shouldn’t stretch this out any longer,” Rembrandt muttered. “We are on a time limit after all.”

“I’m not done yet,” Vaughn snarled as he scrambled back to his feet. In a single, swift motion, he sheathed one of his blades and pulled a jar strapped to his belt. “Let’s see how you like being covered in Drake Fire!”

As he wound up to throw it, a heavy mace came down on his enclosed fist, shattering both the appendage and the jar within.

The contents of the jar splattered everywhere, and as soon as they were exposed to air, they burst into flame. Vaughn screamed as the majority of the thick oily substance dripped down his arm, burning him horribly.

“I had everything under control,” Rembrandt said calmly, ignoring the screaming Curseblade.

“This lot tried to fight dirty, so turnabout is fair play,” Carmine replied, gesturing to the various places where his armour was scorched or etched with acid. “Besides, we’re on a schedule, and I can feel the Miasma starting to get to me.”

Rembrandt tilted his head to the side. Being undead, he and his squad were more resilient to black magic than most living things, so during the fight, he thought he’d just been shrugging off the effects, but now that Carmine mentioned it, he could feel the enfeebling subtly taking hold deep in his bones.

“Devious,” Rembrandt muttered. “What about the other Spellblades?”

“The last few tried to retreat up the stairs, so Lafayette decided to follow and teach them the benefit of reach with that spear of hers,” Carmine replied. “We lost Vito in the fight; he got an ice blade in the back of the head.”

“I actually expected more losses between the Miasma and the spell blades; well done,” Rembrandt replied, as he finally pulled his sword out of the ground.

Before either Revenant could react, Vaughn, who was writhing on the ground, screaming, flipped over and drove his remaining blade into the back of Carmine’s knee. If it had been anywhere else, Carmine’s heavy plate mail probably would have deflected the light blade, but it slipped between the plates and sank deep.

The instant it struck home, Vaughn’s blade flared purple, seemingly absorbing the surrounding miasma before sending a surge down the blade. Carmine grunted in pain as the dark magic worked its way through his body, twisting his limbs in strange and unnatural angles before finally arriving at his head, where it snuffed out his flame. His body teetered back and forth for a second before toppling forward and exploding into a rapidly dissipating cloud of light.

“Do you feel better now?” Rembrandt asked as he raised his massive blade to sit on his shoulder.

“I did what was necessary,” Vaughn snarled, dropping the blade to cradle his charred arm.

“No, you struck out of anger and spite, and didn’t even delay the inevitable,” Rembrandt said, stepping closer. “My squad came in here expecting to take losses, and we were willing to sacrifice it to clear the way for the rest of our team. I will congratulate you for taking down one of my squad, even if you had to resort to your tricks to do it.”

“You know what I hate the most about you?” Vaughn growled. “How little you respected me. Like I wasn’t worth your time, that I was beneath you.”

Rembrandt shook his head. “That’s not true. If I didn’t think you were worth my time, I would have left the fight to one of my squad mates, or worked my way around the room to deal with your squad mates while fending you off. I may not have liked your way of fighting, but I knew that all it would take was a single mistake and I would have ended up like Carmine, so I did everything in my power to avoid giving you that opening,” Rembrandt replied.

“I have no idea if you’re being honest or demeaning to me right now,” Vaughn said, narrowing his eyes.

“What would the point of talking down to you now?” Rembrandt asked, slowly raising his blade. “The fight's already over.”

Vaughn glanced down at his discarded blade, looking back at the Revenant and shaking his head. “True,” he chuckled. “The next time we meet, you won’t overpower me so easily.”

“I look forward to it,” Rembrandt replied as he plunged his blade deep into Vaughn’s chest, causing the Curseblade to dissolve into a cloud of dancing lights. He stood there for a moment, resting his blade on the ground, before peering through the miasma at the barely visible stairs. “Lafayette, what’s your status?”

“Alive, which is more than I can say for the last of those spell stabbers,” a ruff female voice replied. “It was a little tougher than I expected.”

“The black magic is starting to sink into our bodies,” Rembrandt replied. “My blade is starting to feel heavy, and I imagine it’s only a matter of time until I won’t be able to lift it at all. Let’s return to the others.”

“You go ahead,” Lafayette replied quietly, “I’ll be right behind you.”

As he struggled with his sword, there was a clattering noise from above him, and Lafayette’s spear came tumbling down the stairs. Rembrandt considered checking on her, but immediately abandoned that idea. He already knew what happened to her.

The black magic may have taken a while to worm its way through his defences, but now it was running rampant through his system. Even if it weren’t fatal, it would only be a matter of time til it completely crippled him.

Abandoning his blade, he staggered towards the door. The sparkling curtain of water seemed to be sufficient to hold back the miasma, but it wasn’t strong enough to prevent him from stumbling through.

“Rembrandt? What happened?” Kass asked, hurrying over as he fell to his knees.

“We cleared the way,” he replied simply. “The Spellblades are no more. You have your opening, but move quickly; the miasma is thick.”

“What about you?” Helen asked as she peeked out behind Kass. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’ll wait here,” he replied as he slowly crawled to the side and put his back to the wall. “Unless you have a way to cleanse the effect of black magic, I’ll just slow you down, and considering how debilitating the miasma is, you cannot let anything slow you down. Make sure you ascend quickly and finish the fight as quickly as possible.”

“We’ll come back for you once we’re done,” Kass said, patting him on the shoulder. “Thank you for all your hard work.”

“It was my pleasure,” Rembrandt replied. “Now go!”

Kass nodded once, then turned towards the rest of the team. “As soon as the barrier comes down, we sprint up the stairs. We don’t stop for anyone until we get to Jyssa.”

“And what do you plan to do once we get to Jyssa?” Helen asked.

“Kill her,” Kass replied simply. “I don’t think we have time to come up with a complicated plan, and Talia has said the best way to proceed going forward is to rely upon our instincts, so do whatever you can. It doesn’t matter how we bring her down, just that we do.” She stood up and surveyed the rest of the team. “This will probably be our last move of the match, everyone, ready?”

Most people nodded, so Kass slid over to the door, pulled her knives, and took a deep breath to steady herself. “Alright then, let’s go.”