The demon still stands motionless, clutching his warhammer. If the destruction of his minions means anything to him, he gives no sign. He gazes before him with his burning eyes, and you sense that he’s not seeing you so much as something beyond you.
Your comrades draw up their ranks once more, and look to you for advice. Had the demon joined the battle, they would have thrown themselves against him. But as it is, they are as uncertain as you are. Only Medea’s harp makes a sound, and its tune is one which speaks of anticipation rather than action.
“We… we can’t just stand here, damn it!” says Roland, though his voice seems strangely subdued. “We have to go after the others.”
You nod, and step towards the demon. Finally he moves, his head tilting downwards as he looks into your eyes. That small gesture is like an earthquake, coming as it does from such stillness. He opens his mouth, revealing a yawning blackness. A rumbling voice issues forth, ancient words that are meaningless to you. But Medea’s song lifts in a sudden spike of sound. Whatever he said, she recognizes it.
Then the demon strides forward, swinging his warhammer. That breaks the indecision which gripped your companions. They yell their war cries, and charge.
The demon falls onto one knee, his infernal strength spent. His mighty warhammer rests against the ground, useless in a hand which can no longer wield it. The demon's gaze meets your own, and an unsettling sensation crawls across your mind. Perhaps it's mere fancy, but you almost detect sorrow in those burning orbs. Then the eyes blaze, and it's gone.
He yells out in his old, incomprehensible tongue, and somehow begins rising to his feet in spite of his wounds, struggling against the fate which has descended upon him. He lifts his warhammer from the ground, preparing to deliver one last blow. But you strike first, and it never comes. The fiend's eyes glow like coals after the fire atop them has been extinguished, then become cold and black. He collapses, and the warhammer tumbles from his nerveless fingers.
You look down at the weapon, that oh so familiar weapon, and can't seem to lift your gaze from it. Words from one of the stories of Tyranthius fills your mind, a rhyming couplet version which so appealed to you as a child. Its frivolous, sing-song stanzas seem foolish, inappropriate. Yet they are the ones which sound across your thoughts.
"From its sheathe of stone the sword flew free,
- And in its gleam all there could see,
- Tyranthius was the champion fate decreed,
- Sent by the gods to serve West Kruna's need.
Its burden gone, the magic stone gave way,
- Its purpose ended on that day,
- It fell apart as they looked on,
- And yet the enchantment was not wholly gone.
The rocks were filled with eldritch might,
- And sparkled in the moonless night.
- Sir Cai the largest stone did take,
- Said, 'A new head for my hammer shall this make.'"
Roland grabs you by the shoulder and shakes you from your reverie. He says nothing, merely gestures in the direction the other demons went. You nod, and climb into the saddle.
As you ride, Medea guides her steed beside yours.
"Did you understand what he said?" she asks.
"I was trained to deal with turnips, not ancient languages," you reply.
"He said, 'No man shall pass while I draw breath.'" A beautiful chord accompanies the speech she quotes, artfully invoking images of a knight standing against all the odds. "You recognize the words?"
"It's what Sir Cai said when he defended Jorda Pass."
"Yes. He stood alone against a hundred men, so his wounded lord could be taken to safety. An impressive deed." Once more Medea's song seems to fill the air, the mind, the heart with thoughts of heroism.
"I thought you hated Tyranthius and his knights," you say.
"I respect courage. It is the way of bards to honor such things. But I would never have fought alongside Tyranthius. No elf would. Though now it seems we won't have to."
You grope for an angry retort, but by the time you look round with one loaded upon your tongue she's gone. You sigh, and stare ahead once more.
The huge demonic knight is as firm and unyielding as a mountain. Your assault falters against him, and you're forced to pull back. In the distant the other demons are still moving, escaping while he holds you at bay.
|Sir Cai Essence||Used to summon Sir Cai (Raid)||Sir Cai quest boss|
|Circle of Sir Cai||Used as an ingredient to craft Shield of Ryndor||Sir Cai Quest Boss|
|Grey Scabbard||Craft x2 Stat Points||Ryndor quests, help requests and gifting.|
|Green Scabbard||Craft x2 Stat Points||Ryndor quests, help requests and gifting.|
- Nightmare - 2198 HP, 200 Max Damage