Fanfic: Before We Fall
Sunday, July 27th, 2014 03:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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mindcrackloveBefore We Fall
It is entirely too ironic for a dwarf to die to a baby zombie, Coestar reflects as he lies prone on the frozen ground of the Frost Hold. Entirely too ironic and really fucking painful! He hisses against the pain in his shredded shoulder as he tries to reach for his restorative ale, but his fingers don’t even twitch towards the bottle of vibrantly pink liquid. Lovely, a bit of nerve damage for the road. Why not? At least he can’t feel any pain from the ribboned flesh on the rest of his arm. He probably doesn’t even have the mana to properly infuse the ale either, but it wouldn’t have hurt to try.
This is their keep, damn it! This is their last stand, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t defend it to the final shrine.
Pathetically, here he is, bleeding out in the forest before even the first beacon goes dark. If on that stupid little zombie hadn’t shoved a chipped golden pick through his back and proceeded to wreck his day, and likely his life, as well.
Ugh. He can feel his blood leaking between the fingers of his other, not entirely fucked up hand, pressed up against the hole clear through his abdomen. C’mon, fight! Let him fight! His hand shifts towards his sword, but he convulses as the movement releases a stream of blood and he can’t quite stifle an agonized scream that slowly fades into something close to a sob.
Fuck this. Fuck the world that won’t let him have his final stand with the rest, with Guude and Pause and Roamin and the ancient legend who became his friend, Old Man Willakers. Fuck his stupid, idiotic decision to defend that now very dead dwarf who was out late making sticks. He slams his foot against the ground and immediately regrets it as the jarring of his broken leg sends Thor’s lightning echoing around his brain. It leaves his ears ringing with the sound of shouting.
But no, there’s not anyone around his the forest. No one else moronic enough to try a one-man rescue operation, which they were specifically warned against doing. No one else idiotic enough to battle their way through icy snow and dark, monster-infested trees.
“Just let me stand, let me limp my way back to the keep, let me crawl, if I must! Please, Thor, we swore to turn our backs to you, but one more prayer…” his words grow nonsensical as he pleads to the god. “I’m begging you…”
“OOOOLD MAAAAAAAAAN WILLAKERRRRRRRS!”
It sounds like thunder, the sound of the Old Man’s horn reverberating through the valley. Strong hands grasp his shoulders and he lets out a strangled cry as frigid fingers dig into his wounds.
“It’s okay,” says a voice with a familiar, faint drawl. “I’m predicting sunny skies tomorrow. You just gotta survive until then, and Roamin’ll see to that.” Years haven’t completely dulled Guude’s accent. It’s nice. Makes the weatherman easily recognizable. “Roamin! Hurry up with that holy water! I told Nisovin not to retire his star,” he comments nonchalantly to Coe, “he’s much more reliable than that paladin, but nooo, not magi-technologically advanced enough, he said. I hope he eats those words if you die. I hope he eats this with a blast of that silly wand of his. ‘Limited possibilities,’ my ass. I’m pretty sure he used it to pants Roamin the other day.”
Guude doesn’t sound nervous; for all his disparaging of Roamin, the man must be nearby.
“You all get away from him!” he hears the Old Man snarl. Out of the corner of his fading vision he can see a brilliant golden blade slicing a wide arc at a gathering swarm of monsters.
One hand lets go of his shoulders to pry Coe’s own fingers away from his stomach. He shudders at the stark memory of the last time his hand moved and fights against it, his survival instincts momentarily overwhelming his reason, but Guude’s grasp is firm, even as it flinches sympathetically at his pained whimper.
“Roamin’s gonna fix you right up. Now that he’s actually here.”
Holy water stings against his wounds where it purges the zombie sickness, but the relief it brings overshadows any additional pain. His arm explodes into fire enough to bring tears to his eyes as the severed nerves reconnect before the severed flesh. He grits his teeth. No more wimpy noises out of him.
That’s enough help. The pain is no longer incapacitating, and his pride will allow nothing more. Rolling to the side, he dislodges Guude’s hands and grabs his ale, leaping to his feet in the same move. He kicks the hilt of his sword up and snatches it out of the air with an artful twirl.
I’m back, assholes.
He takes a swig of ale, just to finish up what the holy water started, and leaps at the nearest skeleton, which was clumsy enough to get too close to an angry dwarf.
“What, do we get no thanks?” Guude asks dryly, wiping a diamond-clad wrist across his face.
Coe lops off the skeleton’s head. “I had it handled, but I suppose…”
Pause snorts from a few meters away, and Roamin just shoots his flamethrower a few centimeters too close for comfort, but it’s the livid expression from the Old Man as he whirls around to face Coe that startles him.
“I don’t want to hear to begging to anyone, ever,” Old Man Willakers says seriously as Guude takes over his place against the mob. “We don’t serve Thor the Betrayer anymore, you swore your allegiance to me, and me only. You belong to me, Coestar. All of you daft little dwarves do. Every single hair in your considerable beards is mine. Not the council’s, not Thor’s, MINE.”
He stabs his sword a hairsbreadth from Coe’s ear, through a sneaky zombie trying to take advantage of their apparent distraction. “And every one of mine is yours.” He withdraws, Excaliju dripping with rotted goo.
“What’re you all doing, standing around here for?! We’ve got a keep to defend, boys! Go!”
They go. The keep stands for another day.
End.
There was originally gonna be a scene with some random dwarves fighting and a ladydwarf was gonna stab a zombie through the chest and into the ground with a massive icicle. *sigh* I'm so sad it didn't fit in.
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Date: Sunday, July 27th, 2014 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 03:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 02:05 am (UTC)Loved the story :D
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Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 03:05 am (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 02:56 am (UTC)Awesome job - amazing story!
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Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 03:05 am (UTC)Thanks!
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Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 02:56 am (UTC)...And since there don't seem to be many comments, I feel it is only fair to inform you that there was much gushing about this fic in the SFW Salad chat.
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Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 03:06 am (UTC)My Skype must be derping, I've gotten almost no messages today. D:
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Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 04:28 am (UTC)(Roamin is awesome. Much flamethrower spam and annoying OMW with it :3)
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Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 05:04 am (UTC)(My last game as him still shows up on my PMC profile, it's just this long string of flamethrower kills.)
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Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 06:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 02:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, July 29th, 2014 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, July 28th, 2014 08:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Friday, August 22nd, 2014 05:51 pm (UTC)