Arao: Goblin Pyros, Round 03

I saw it all. The utter evil that dwelt in the goblins' souls knew no bounds; the red bloodshot eyes brimmed with murderous intent. The mad maniacal cackles of sadistic glee as the eladrin's entreaties of surrender fell unto deaf ears. Then the glint of cold sharp metal as it slashed, inexorably forward, slicing at the inert body of our helpless half-elf companion. Rich red blood spurted out, silhouetting the thick shaft of light that belatedly struck the goblin dead.

I knew right there and then, these vile and foul creatures had no right to live under the bright blue sky.

Bellowing a tremendous warcry unlike any I have ever shouted, I trudged forward, ignoring the horrible stinging pain of the hex that cramped and wounded my legs. I now had a clear angle for the Warchanter, the evil creature that should be at the mastermind of all this madness. It was shrouded in the dark sickly mist, but Pelor's divine mark broke through, and I could see it as clear as day.

I began to channel the divinity of Pelor, and a mystical blue flame aura burst forth underneath my feet and covered me. "Pelor, your faithful servant beseeches thee," I earnestly prayed. "Grant me the power to slay the evil in front of me. SA-HAP-DI-NG-KMA-TA-YAN!!!"

A bright flaming ball of light engulfed the Warchanter. Racked in pain, it called forth unknown powers for its succor. A black demonic aura fought Pelor's light, until both magic was exhausted. The Warchanter still stood, breathing heavily, its face twisted grotesquely in torment, the mark of Pelor clearly shining above its head.

My blue flame aura flickered down after the casting of my power. As it dissipated, I felt the stinging hex that was upon me also got completely dispelled at the same time.