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Dorian, Justice and their friends are smart, sometimes stupid, sometimes cool, always in wheelchairs and generally confused about where they fit in this whole weird world ... they're THE MISFITS. Dorian lives and goes to school in Tillyville, and you get a peek into his bizarre life here each weekend (Dorian says, "Yay, the weekend!"). Dorian Battles the Cauldron-Born The branches and twigs of the forest floor snapped under heavy footsteps. The raiders surrounded Dorian, swords drawn, faces set like stone. Dorian gripped his broadsword in both hands, circling to keep them at bay. He had to think fast.
He faked forward, and spun to strike the attacker behind him—a surprise blow!—then ducked under the swing of the next one, the blade whistling just above his head. The wild swing left the enemy's side exposed, and Dorian thrust into it. Dorian pulled a body from the ground, using it to deflect the next blow. He struck from behind his gruesome shield, felling his third warrior. Because of their unnatural creation—the foul magick swirling inside the Black Cauldron breathes life into their lost souls—the Cauldron-Born possess superhuman powers. The Cauldron-Born are fierce swordsmen, but they are feared for something more than their fighting skills: when one of the Cauldron-Born falls in battle, his strength is absorbed by the remaining Cauldron-Born. Now, with three of them sprawled on the battlefield, the remaining five stood unmoving, their shoulders and arms tense, absorbing the energy. Dorian seized his opportunity! He struck down the nearest one. He leapt at the next one, striking him with two quick blows. The third stood only a pace away. Dorian drew back his weapon, and brought it forward—ARRRGHH!—in a wide arc over his head. As if by reflex, the warrior raised his sword. The steel blades shrieked together. The warrior's dark eyes flashed with hatred. He threw Dorian into the air. Dorian landed and rolled down a hillside, past another warrior's downward chops—smash! smash! smash! Dorian jumped to his feet. He scrambled up a thin birch, dodging another blow which snapped the tree under him. CRACK! Dorian felt his balance leaving: the tree was falling. He rode the falling timber onto the hapless warrior, who collapsed under the weight of man and tree. Dorian crouched amongst the pile of branches, listening ... and lunged into another charging enemy! Dorian approached the final warrior, who breathed heavily while absorbing the full energy of eight Cauldron-Born fighters. This last one was built like a mountain, with arms like pythons, and eyes red as fire. A ripple of fear passed through Dorian, for he did not know how to defeat this mightiest foe. Still, he braced himself to the challenge. Evil must be defeated, here and now. He tightened his grip on the sword and waved it before him. The undead warrior stepped forward, eager to clash with the young hero. The Cauldron-Born leaned and knocked on Dorian's helmet, three times. "Dorian?" he said. "What are you doing?" Dorian sneered. "Prepare to die!" The Cauldron-Born lowered his sword and again rapped Dorian's helmet. "Dorian, time for dinner," he said. He had a woman's voice. Dorian stepped out of the forest, and into his wheelchair. His eyes snapped open. An open book fell from his lap. He heard more knocking at his bedroom door. "The food's getting cold," said his mother outside, her voice rising in irritation. "Gees, Mom, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Dorian said. Shaking his head, he opened the door and left the room. Copyright
2003 by John Mohler Jr. Subscribe now! It's easy. It's free. Take the ride! |
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