A Crimson Shore 31.3 A Giant Speech by Spencer!

The axe flew through the air and struck the skinny woman holding a broomstick. She had been holding it out like a spear. Instantly, the stick snapped in two, while the gargantuan axe whizzed towards her flesh. The metal blade cleaved her leg from her body, slicing it clean off at the pelvis. She tried to cry out, but in her death agony, conjured no noise. Dark blood spurted from what was left of her leg in a flood, as well as her upturned mouth. She crumpled to the ground in a heap. The axe lifted itself up again.

Frank watched the hand holding it lift itself backwards, and his gaze followed the direction that the monster’s head turned, the direction it’s red hot eyes shone. Then, he looked at the pile of flesh and bone that had once been the woman with a broomstick, playing like a fighter.  For an instant, he thought of the Flame, and the woman, and then he realized that he had not enough left to bring her back to it. Her light is gone.

And it made him angry.  More. It made him wrathful. She had come because of his words. She had come knowing she would most likely perish here in this horrific place, or worse be dragged to Ket screaming and kicking. And yet, she had still come. Because of his words. He felt his blood boil, and his skin burn. He moved, his armor hanging heavily to his body, methodically, towards the tower sized beast. Preoccupied, he lunged in between it’s legs, and struck a mighty blow with his mace at one of it’s knees. He knew full well, the giant’s other hand would be searching for him now. And so would the other axe it held.

Moving with the creature as well as he could, he tried to mask himself using the giant’s own body.  It wasn’t going well. Several of Lolth’s servants slunk towards him, biting and gnashing him around his armor. He looked out to the others, the dozen or so men that had run up the hill with him. It was his speech that had brought them there.  His speech that had called them to action. For Cellinor. The realm that had once chased him through the streets for inquisition.  The realm that would have ended him, knowing what he was.

“It is not what we are that matters, Frank, it is what we do that determines who we really are.” Tiresias, his one time savior’s words rang in his ears.

______________________________________________________________________________

In face of the fire giants and these hellish spider creatures, looking across the battlefield from the ship, Frank clutched the symbol of his faith, hung around his neck, his symbol of protection and power:

In an undertone he muttered:
“To the power of the flame,

The power within us all,
I beseech thee to grant us power,
And smite our mighty foe.”

He repeated his words, loud enough for a few around him to hear:
“To the power of the flame,

The power within us all,
I beseech thee to grant us power,
And smite our mighty foes!”

Finally, and with an energy that flowed from him, Frank looked around, and by the time he finished his petition, all those on deck stopped what they were doing, and followed his every word. Frank walked through the gathering crowd, towards the stern, to the very edge overlooking the battlefield.
Amongst the din of the bloody battle, over all the noise, all of fighting Cellinor men and women could hear Frank’s next words. The rest of the crew on deck gathered to his back. A glow could be seen among the crew, as Frank spoke these next words:
“BROTHERS AND SISTERS OF THE FLAME,
TO ALL CELN IN DIRE,
I CALL UPON YOU ALL,
AND DRAW UPON YOU FIRE!”
With a bright red flame in his eyes, he shouted for all to hear,
“TO THE POWER OF THE FLAME,
THE POWER WITHIN US ALL,
I BEESEACH THEE TO GRANT US POWER,
AND SMITE OUR MIGHTS FOES!!”

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