The Plucky Paws Guild Issue #8

Theo awoke to violent chaos. Forms were moving fast in the dancing flames of the small fire. The sounds of claws on shield and sword on bone rang out, shockingly loud to the young raccoon’s ears. The occasional cry of pain caused him to flinch and shrink back into the log he had bedded against.

He felt like he had barely lain his head down to sleep, only to be awoken by this nightmare. His normally fast brain felt foggy from sleep, and his peaceful and safe upbringing was shocked by such a rude awakening.

Clearly, they were under attack! But by what or whom? It was so hard to make out anything in the dark. One thing, though, was clear: he needed to help! He had to help his fellow companions. But how to help was far less certain. He couldn’t make out anything in the frantic shadows that moved with such intent. Was that Sylvan in front of him struggling? Maybe Reginald? He couldn’t see clearly enough to act. 

“Wait!” his brain screamed! “You can do something about that! Bring light to the situation, clarity, then you will know what to do!”

Light was simple, one of the first cantrips an acolyte learned. It was such a basic spell. All erudite mages cast it often, for it was far better than candlelight. With barely a thought, his lips moving by reflex and he cast the simple spell. As the globe of light formed in his hand, he threw it into the air, knowing it would hover above them, shedding light on the scene.

And what a terrible scene the light revealed! Reflexively, Theo almost canceled the spell, wishing to retreat into the safe ignorance of darkness. Creatures from his childhood nightmares prowled through the camp. Dead creatures, rotting creatures. A foul, badger shambled by the fire, its decayed body mottled with patches of diseased skin and clumps of ashen hair. Bugs and worms writhed in its body cavity, empty sockets made deep pools of black where its once bright eyes should have been. 

He watched in horror as it swiped dirt-infested claws at Sylvan. The lithe thief sprang back, barely avoiding the deadly attack, but her tattered cloak and bloody cuts suggested she had not always been so fortunate. Quickly, she struck out with her daggers, slicing at her attacker. Her knives appear to leave long, deep marks in the creature's flesh. Despite the fearsome wounds, the thief’s attack appeared to have no effect on the shambling thing. It came on, relentless, undeterred by wounds that would have slain a normal foe or at the very least caused them to flee in dismay.

“You have to help!” His brain cried, racing! 

How, he wondered, trying to think as his body involuntarily flinched back from every blow the foul badger threw at the rogue. 

“Think!!!” His brain yelled at him! “You’re smart! Clever! Do something, your friends need you!” 

True, he thought, failing to recede completely into the shadows. In the past, he always knew the best way to solve problems! But this, this? He had never faced anything like this before. Magic…maybe Magic would help!

“Of course, magic would help, you idiot!” His brain replied with disdain. “That’s what you do! That’s why you are here!”

But what magic? He thought absently, feeling slightly disconnected from the violence around him. I could make light? 

“You made light!” His brain yelled again. “You are not helping! Sylvan may die! Do something!”

But do what? What could he possibly do? He was just a bookworm! This was all so physical! Magic! Oh, yes, maybe a spell could help?

“You’re running in circles, you fool!” His brain accused. 

With a cold and terrible dread, Theo began to ponder the unthinkable. Was he a coward? Why else did he continue to withdraw into such a pathetic little bump against the ancient wood behind him? Why else was his brain racing like a fleet deer but going nowhere? He almost cried aloud in shame, the idea causing him such pain.

He had dreamed of this his whole life, constantly studying the stories of past heroes! Longed to set out into the forest to do great things and noble deeds! Why else had he spent so many grueling hours, ceaselessly pouring over ancient grimoires? Why else had he pushed his body and mind so hard to master the eldritch forces? How could he possibly be a coward? But what else could he be? Surely Reginald was not curled up and whimpering like a useless babe.

“Do something!” His brain continued to yell at him.

Sylvan had begun to move with more assurance, dancing around the badger, striking again and again. Each strike took off pieces of the creature. If she could not bleed the monster, she would dismember it. Paws followed fingers, teeth followed paws. Soon the rotting monstrosity had nothing left to attack her. In vain it tried to push the nimble thief with its bulk, but she danced aside and kicked it over, striking off both legs with hard, long cuts. Still animated, it shook impotently, unable to affect the rogue.

She moved on, darting after another monstrosity, lost in the melee.

“GET UP!” Theo’s brain yelled again. “You’re not supposed to be a spectator, you’re supposed to be involved!”

With supreme effort, using all his strength both physical and mental, he climbed to his feet. How could it be so hard just to stand up? And why was it so hard to remain standing? His legs shook, and a craven part of him longed for nothing more than to return to his previous fetal position.

“Look around! See who needs help!” His brain demanded.

No, I don’t think I want to, Theo thought. 

“What you want doesn’t matter!” His brain answered. “LOOK AROUND!”

He did and immediately thought his brain had been quite ill-advised to suggest such a foolish idea. More info was not helping his situation. Across the glade, large, foul, necrotic bats swooped down to attack a bright and shining warrior. Their cries in the dark night were hideous! 

Reginald! It was Reginald, his armor, shield, and sword reflecting gloriously in the light of Theo’s pathetic spell. Now there was a warrior! Reginald bled from several deep gashes, but he paid them no heed. He moved with a grace almost equal to Sylvan! 

Theo had always assumed the large raccoon would be slow and ponderous in his metal armor, but he was not! He danced, striking the bats with both sword and shield. Each bright strike of his trusted blade severing a wing, felling one of the foes. His shield deftly repelled attacks, keeping the warrior safe from harm. 

Theo then spied the bard a distance from Reginald, fighting what appeared to be some foul creature riding a rotting deer. To the mage’s shock, Melodus was dancing! Wait, he was not dancing, but he moved so fast, so sure. He knew the minstrel had to be fighting, but it looked like nothing else but a dance!

The mounted creature savagely struck at Wyndsong again and again while its rotting mount pranced in a circle, striking out as well with its antlers. Was the rider a skunk? Was it a raccoon? Theo could not discern the creature, its state of decay far too advanced to be clearly identifiable. Rusted armor covered its body and head, further obscuring its species. Despite the protection’s dilapidated appearance, it seemed to be keeping the creature safe from the Bard's deft attacks. A bale, cold, green, sickly fire glowed from the deep, empty sockets in its skull.

Melodus moved like the wind, shaming Reginald and Sylvan both! He was like running water, constantly in motion, evading the dark knight's ceaseless attacks. As he watched, Theo became aware that the dancing raccoon was singing. Singing? What lunacy was this? But no, he was singing a calm and steady song pouring from his furry lips. He found it hard to concentrate on the words, but the sound alone, the thought of the small creature singing in resistance to the menacing mounted warrior before him, gave Theo heart and strengthened his legs!

Maybe he could do something! Cuts did not seem to harm these undead creatures. They did not bleed, they did not know pain. But maybe concussive force?

“Now you’re thinking!” His brain rallied behind him.

He looked around for a rock, a large one! He knew spells that he could use to propel a rock with great force! Surely a large enough rock to break enough of the dark knight's steed to destabilize it and render it non-functional!

“There’s my Theo!” His brain congratulated him. He looked around frantically, trying to find a large rock. A few feet away, against the log, there was a rock that looked well suited to his task. He moved over quickly and grabbed it. Calming his mind, he summoned the arcane energies, his mouth and mind in unison chanting the required mantra.

From seemingly nowhere, Brother Fulce sprang at the rotting deer beneath the fell knight. He struck a mighty blow with his mace, and a loud crack rang out as the creature's spine broke in two. The mount dropped like a rock, unceremoniously unseating its evil rider. 

Reginald did not give the knight a chance to recover. Having dispatched the last of the carrion bats, he sprang forward, Sablebane flashing again in the light, striking the head off the dark warrior as it attempted to rise. The sickly green glow dimmed as the head rolled towards the fire. With a loud clatter of metal, the headless body collapsed.

Silence fell on the small grove, the only sound was the heavy breathing of the four combatants and the chant of the young mage. 

Quickly, Theo ended his spell, dispersing the gathering energies safely back into the ether. He dropped the rock lamely on the ground. The true, utter failure of his performance crashed down on him, crushing him greater than any rock. 

Reginald turned towards Theo, striding quickly from the fallen, dark champion. His sword ready as he made his way across the clearing towards the mage.

He saw! They all saw! They saw my failure, my useless failure during the battle! They know I’m a coward. He stepped back from the approaching warrior. Frantically, he looked for an escape, but his only exit was cut off by the returning rogue. Sylvan advanced towards him as well, cleaning her knives on her now filthy cloak, a dark look on her face.

Theo continued to back up, retreating from Reginald and the others in shame. His legs hit the log, and he barely kept himself from falling backwards. The towering raccoon continued forward, closing the distance, implacable, without mercy.

Would they banish him from the band? He wondered. It was no more than he deserved. Would Reginald strike him down here and now? Surely not! But then he had risked all of them with his cowardice. They had put their trust in him, and he had selfishly endangered them all. Did he really deserve any better than to be slain here and now?

“Young Theo!” Reginald’s voice was deep and breathless, still recovering from the harrowing battle. Bloody gashes covered his body where his armor had been rent by fearsome claws. Theo flinched as the giant warrior came near, waiting for the punishment he knew he deserved.

“Young Theo!” Reginald, repeating his arms going wide, preparing to strike him down!

To Theo’s shock and surprise, the noble warrior dropped his blade and shield, and his strong arms closed around the smaller raccoon, lifting him up in a ferocious hug. The mighty warrior’s warm, loud laughter filled the glade, banishing the silence.

“Surely you saved us all this night! Well done, my fine, young friend! Well done indeed!” 

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