Chapter 10 - Part 13

Preshma hadn't always been an adept. He'd been a warrior first, and then later felt the calling to bring the struggle for life that Balinor exemplified to those who needed to hear - whether they knew they needed to hear or not.

House Tharashk had paid him handsomely for his services, and Preshma hadn't complained that those services took him so far from the Marches. The druids had a lock on the faithful there in any event, making it hard for a battle adept to make a living.

Now he'd come to some stone room underground, with a bunch of filthy gnolls and one of the little forest rats. Preshma didn't care for any who were not orcs (he felt that humans were a type of orc), although he had to admit that Delegado's golem friend was a decent sort.

When the mental pain blasted him to the floor, he'd realized what was happening. It took maybe a minute and a-half for him to process again, and he saw dead bodies, heard fighting, as the thing from Xoriat walked about unopposed, and glassy-eyed orcs and gnolls stood up to be its puppets.

Preshma turned his head just so slightly, and saw Delegado's eyes open, then close as the alien thing forced the half-orc unconscious again.

Preshma waited, thinking nothing that could get him noticed. He did see that the others in the party that had been adepts or held religious symbols of any kind were already dead. One was missing the back of his head, and the others had been sent down the tunnel that was making exploding sounds.

I'm alive because I fell forward onto my symbol, and because my armor makes me appear to be a simple warrior, Preshma realized.

Preshma hesitated. He didn't have too many spells, truth be told he wasn't a very powerful adept. But he knew one that might help Delagado.

Preshma rolled over and poured vigor and life into the half-orc. He saw Delegado's eyes twitch behind their eyelids.

The adept felt a surge of joy, and he rose to his feet with a whooping cry. Together he and Delegado would take on the thing from Xoriat, and be sung as victorious heroes, treated with wine, women and song!

The two gnoll thralls, utter puppets of the mind-flayer, cut the adept to pieces with three powerful blows, before he'd finished rising to his feet.