The combatants locked eyes, separated by a distance of fifty meters. Blood dripped from the Beast-man's muzzle. His towering two and a half meter frame was layered with muscle, hands that would shame an NBA center, and an ease of movement that spoke to incredible athleticism. The trident the creature held was three meters long, certainly a daunting weapon when wielded by a warrior of such power. A leather and metal scale cuirass covered the beastman's chest, leaving arms mostly bare. Legs were covered to the knee by thick leather fauld, a sort of armored skirt with metal plates riveted to leather strips. Knee high boots had a metal shin guard. All in all, the Wolven marauder made for an impressively dangerous foe.
Ulric stood in his normal hunting attire. [Forest Lord] leather vest and matched knee length overcoat, loose pants underneath. His feet were covered by soft [Bolt Deer] moccasins stuffed with leaves for insulation. His only weapons were a long bow and long bone belt knife. He was only about two meters tall, nearly thirty kilos lighter, and his shaggy dark hair an unkempt mess. Not exactly a heroic image. Not that [Hero]was a title he'd ever be vying for. He'd settle for [Alive], pretty much all the time.
The Beast man called across the clearing, voice booming with a hint of growl. "How are you called, Hunter? I am Graus, lieutenant of Pack Leader Vars. Elf Bane. What name you carry, knife ears sympathizer?"
A duel? Ulric was curious now. He'd lived every day in this place with his life at risk, danger was as much a part of this world as the earth beneath your feet. Fear never went away, it was healthy. It was also something he'd reconciled himself to. It no longer served as a barrier to his choices, just a barometer for how stupid the thing he was doing at the moment was.
He'd play along for now and sucker punch the Child Harmer when it was convenient.
"I am Ulric Einar, Twice Borne of Earth, Native of the Ancient Glade. [Forest Lord]'s bane." his voice carried clearly across the distance.
The Beastman seemed confused by the first part of the introduction, having no clue what in the hells an "Urth" might be, but that last part sunk home.
"You slew the old terror?" he asked. There was the skepticism there, and just a hint of respect. The many times blooded warrior had felt no lie in the statement.
"I did.” Ulric shouted, his voice rough from disuse. “It was the first foe I defeated on this world. And it won't be the last, until I've threshed this land of fools. Like the ones who hurt children."
His dig struck true, and the Wolf headed giant of a warrior snarled.
If the shoe, fits you bastard, Ulric thought. He was getting tired of this. Either they were going to try to kill each other fair and square or he was going to start slinging arrows.
Ulric knew he couldn’t afford to do this slowly. Between the clash of monsters and this little dance with child abusers, there was blood all over the place. Moans of pain had signaled injury, a siren song for scavengers, the opportunists would be along soon and they’d be primed to kill anything that stayed behind. Leading the bestial warrior into the thickets was a nonstarter, who knows what he’d do, probably go snatch the kid. Ulric had to make a move and make it soon; the elevated forest was far more treacherous than the one below.
The Beastman nodded its head in salute and took up the trident to begin battle. This foe was worthy, a hunter of the ancient terror. It had slain his fellows with little effort. There were worse songs to have sung to one's pups than that their sire fell to the [Forest Lord]'s bane in even combat.
Ulric was pretty sure the ball was about to drop. It had only been a moment but he could see the monstrous humanoid making for something suspiciously similar to a sling in its belt. Fuck. Can’t let that happen Einar, he told himself.
He slid his right hand over the left, channeling frigid cold to create his [Ice Blade], a meter long blade of crystalline air and water reinforced to steel strength through Infrig. Staying back was right out, he couldn’t take a chance getting hit by a rock or metal ball bearing thrown by such an incredibly powerful creature. Midrange no good either, he’d end up spitted on those barbed tines.
Thoughts racing Ulric’s mind churned out the realization that he had to take the initiative, apply pressure, and use what remained of his magic, a tactic forming in his mind to get past the armor in which the barbaric warrior was encased. First though, there was the incredible reach of the large creature and its trident. He had a rough plan for dealing with that trident, getting inside its reach, and hoped it would work.
Almost like a gong had sounded the start of the fight, both combatants abruptly closed the distance, each trying to prevent the other from using some unknown ranged skill. Ulric struck out with his right hand channeling the power of Caelum from twenty meters away.
Godsdamnit he was a friggin geek, not a soldier! Too late to regret that now Einar, you stepped in it, now you gotta finish.
The large creature was clearly stronger than him, if the size of that trident and the way he’d pinned the viper was any indication, so Ulric couldn’t let anything hit directly. Gotta fucking distract him. Pocket sand!
[Wind Blade]
The dense blue air sliced through the space between them and was intercepted by the head of the trident. His hardened air magic shattered on contact, the spell’s mana coming apart to Ulric’s senses. The Beastman didn't blink as air shards bounced off its armor, its experience in armed combat vastly superior.
Piss, Ulric cursed, continuing to close in. That ruled out his Iceblade in melee. As they closed Ulric felt a detached sense of cool reason, different from the hot rage of his initial confrontation. Now that he’d confirmed the metal weapon's ability to shatter his [Ice Blade] if they met directly, his intuition shifted to find another tactic as the enemy moved into striking distance. For him, not for Ulric.
Four meters apart and the Beastman pulled back his trident for a lunge to spit Ulric. Damn it, he'd never be able to close the distance between them. At least, not by playing fair. Which was a stupid fucking idea to begin with. It wasn't exactly fair that the Beastman got to be a great wolf bastard with a huge spear to begin with.
On impulse, Ulric threw the [Ice Blade], the meter or so of hardened frozen razor flying for its face and, before the beast Viking could swing its blade and disperse it, pulled at Incendere.
[Flamecrash]
A weak [Flamecrash] intercepted the [Ice Blade] just as the trident reached forward to pierce it, the two spells colliding which carried them forward with their original momentum. Rolling steam poured over the Beastman's form causing him to roar his pain, flesh burned by roiling steam.
Ulric had never stopped moving forward, nor had he stopped channeling mana into an [Overcharge]. When the trident struck empty air, instead of the frozen blade, he took advantage and jumped as high as he could, which, thanks to a certain large bosomed Impossible, was about two meters vertical.
To his credit, the warrior knew he'd been had and turned rapidly pulling trident back to ready to intercept a weapon, even though his vision was clouded by the heat of the now dispersed steam. Rotating his body like a high jumper Ulric cleared the Beast-man, landing roughly on all fours behind his foe but rolling forward under the warrior's guard, even as the Wolven form readied itself to counter attack.
Betting that biology knew best, Ulric reached forward, underneath the haft of that polearm, placed his left hand on the metal of the armored cuirass just under the beast-man's right collar bone and his right hand on the left side above where the floating ribs were as the warrior turned.
Mandatory safety meetings on using defibrillators to the rescue. The safety officers never stopped bitching about the things. They'd been very clear about it. Wouldn't stop talking about it. Only use the thing if you were certain the heart had already stopped. Because if it hadn't and you hit them with those paddles at those points, it damn sure would.
[Voltaic Grip]
[Overcharge]'d Ceraun ripped across the meridians of the beast-man's heart, stopping it instantly.
The Beast-man was a hardened bastard. He knew he was dead. He also knew he didn't have to go alone. Lashing out the warrior used the haft of the spear to batter Ulric in the chest, launching him backwards to land on his back, lip cut and bleeding and eye blacked. As he lay there, the Wolven drew back the spear to impale him.
Ulric rolled quickly to stand and stomped a foot, pulling the last of his mana, this time focused to terra.
[Stone wall]
Liquid stone rose up behind the beast-man solidifying around the butt of the trident and locking the weapon in place.
A few aborted attempts to stab him stole the remaining strength from the warrior and he released the shaft, dropping to his knees with a hand over his chest. He looked like he wanted to say something. He died before he could, falling over onto his side. Could have fallen asleep if you didn't know any better. Probably a more painless end than he deserved, but Ulric had to admit that he couldn't bring himself to hate the creature. Disgust. Anger. No hate.
Ulric felt a rush of…achievement. Fulfillment. Victory soared through his veins, like a rolling flame. Gods he was never so alive than that moment. Ulric's heart thrummed within his breast and his body vibrated with adrenaline, power, and some unknown sensation. His foes, enemies who dared to trespass on his domain, challengers to his will, were dead at his hands and he was exultant.
*PING*
Heat suffused Ulric's core before pouring through his bones and radiating into his flesh. He was almost dizzy for a moment before the wave of sensation faded, leaving behind a humming in his body and soul. Suddenly, Ulric felt like he had become, all at once, more. It was as if he cast a greater shadow into the world, a deepening imprint, like he exhibited greater gravity around himself. A sense of strength, greater than any he'd ever known suffused his body, weighing against the mana exhaustion that even now weighed on him. A tickle of predatory anger briefly spiked and vanished.
Ulric snorted. He should've seen that one coming. Seemed like the Akashic record sort of just let you figure shit out on your own until you did something great. Or terrible. Sighing Ulric willed the status to his sight.
[Status]
"Oh my!" Ulric whispered.
This was unexpected. Very unexpected. And definitely a boon to his plans going forward. Ulric had been immersed in the wilderness of the glade for months. He'd hunted, fought, built, rebuilt, and learned at a pace unsustainable to his previous life. Mana pulsed in his bones, filling his body in a cycle of hot and cold that, once disturbing, now seemed a second heartbeat. He didn't even notice his core's rhythm unless he concentrated on it. But now, some threshold had been crossed, and he was no longer simply a resident of the glade but its master. The wash of strength he'd felt must have been all of those stats suddenly being added to his own, some influx from a source that he still did not understand. Later, he'd have to think about this later, for now, he couldn't afford to just sit around and wool gather.
Looking down at the body before him Ulric felt, not regret, more like completion. He had battled with a sentient creature who'd fought and died giving all they had in single combat. As much as he'd detested these raiders that contempt faded somewhat for the beastman at his feet. He could hate a man who lived and chose to hurt others while he did, but there was no sense hating a fallen soldier, even one against whom he'd been locked into a fight with their lives on the balance. Death evened most scores in his eyes. Whew lads, had he evened some scores today.
His blood had stopped its surging rush, and he no longer felt his heart beating like a war drum timing his movements to some kind of fierce song. Mana exhaustion was in full swing, his health had taken a hit and he felt like shit.
Ulric had to make some choices, and quickly. The screams of the guy with his arms bitten off had silenced at some point. Shouts of pain, battle, and dying would attract predators. There were nine dead men and two dead titans, along with a fallen bull scattered across the destroyed thicket.
Not to forget the catalyst for this little drama, the battered and bound elf child.
He was too tired to butcher the monsters, not even if it meant losing their cores. He'd have to carry the child down the tree to camp, there was no way he was staying in the endless cage match that was the canopy.
Ulric had decided he would haul the Wolven beastman back to camp for a proper burial. He'd fought bravely, both against the monsters and against Ulric. He'd also killed the coward, so it couldn't be said he'd done no good with himself. He was also wearing a rather interesting armor which Ulric could maybe use for ideas and, just maybe, reverse engineer to improve his own lot.
Decisions made and priorities sorted, Ulric stuffed the trident and that great scimitar into the fallen Viking's belt. The child turned out to be a boy and he was unconscious. His slight form was little in the way of burden, especially since, being secured to those poles would allow him to be packed like a hitchhiker's knapsack. After making sure the kid was breathing and confirming that he'd probably stay that way Ulric took the dead Viking's collar in right hand, hoisted the child in left and made steady way to the trunk that would take him back to his camp, grateful indeed for the extra oomph granted by his Lord bonus.
It took nearly two hours, travel slowed greatly by burdens, mana exhaustion, and extreme caution. Ulric refused to be ambushed like that [Shadow Panther], taken while bathing in victory. You weren't victorious until you lived to next sunrise.
Climbing down the tree had posed a problem until Ulric realized he could just push the corpse out of the tree and collect it and the weapons at the bottom. Not like it'd complain about the rough handling. The child he secured with some of those bindings, cutting them and making some loops to tie him to Ulric's bowstave. If anything happened, it would be far harder for the child to fall free.
Back at camp Ulric put the child inside his shelter, checking the boy's breathing again and satisfying himself that there was little he could actually do. Camp chores were attended to and Ulric bathed himself by the rock pool, strigil raking dirt, sweat, and dried blood from his skin. He'd gotten a significant amount on him from the child and from the spatters that had covered the Beast-man from the slaughter of the [Venom Bolt Viper].
At last, suns slipping down behind the enveloping canopy around his glade, Ulric was able to find a moment to sit down for a rest. Which is precisely when the child woke with a shrill scream.
The combatants locked eyes, separated by a distance of fifty meters. Blood dripped from the Beast-man's muzzle. His towering two and a half meter frame was layered with muscle, hands that would shame an NBA center, and an ease of movement that spoke to incredible athleticism. The trident the creature held was three meters long, certainly a daunting weapon when wielded by a warrior of such power. A leather and metal scale cuirass covered the beastman's chest, leaving arms mostly bare. Legs were covered to the knee by thick leather fauld, a sort of armored skirt with metal plates riveted to leather strips. Knee high boots had a metal shin guard. All in all, the Wolven marauder made for an impressively dangerous foe.
Ulric stood in his normal hunting attire. [Forest Lord] leather vest and matched knee length overcoat, loose pants underneath. His feet were covered by soft [Bolt Deer] moccasins stuffed with leaves for insulation. His only weapons were a long bow and long bone belt knife. He was only about two meters tall, nearly thirty kilos lighter, and his shaggy dark hair an unkempt mess. Not exactly a heroic image. Not that [Hero]was a title he'd ever be vying for. He'd settle for [Alive], pretty much all the time.
The Beast man called across the clearing, voice booming with a hint of growl. "How are you called, Hunter? I am Graus, lieutenant of Pack Leader Vars. Elf Bane. What name you carry, knife ears sympathizer?"
A duel? Ulric was curious now. He'd lived every day in this place with his life at risk, danger was as much a part of this world as the earth beneath your feet. Fear never went away, it was healthy. It was also something he'd reconciled himself to. It no longer served as a barrier to his choices, just a barometer for how stupid the thing he was doing at the moment was.
He'd play along for now and sucker punch the Child Harmer when it was convenient.
"I am Ulric Einar, Twice Borne of Earth, Native of the Ancient Glade. [Forest Lord]'s bane." his voice carried clearly across the distance.
The Beastman seemed confused by the first part of the introduction, having no clue what in the hells an "Urth" might be, but that last part sunk home.
"You slew the old terror?" he asked. There was the skepticism there, and just a hint of respect. The many times blooded warrior had felt no lie in the statement.
"I did.” Ulric shouted, his voice rough from disuse. “It was the first foe I defeated on this world. And it won't be the last, until I've threshed this land of fools. Like the ones who hurt children."
His dig struck true, and the Wolf headed giant of a warrior snarled.
If the shoe, fits you bastard, Ulric thought. He was getting tired of this. Either they were going to try to kill each other fair and square or he was going to start slinging arrows.
Ulric knew he couldn’t afford to do this slowly. Between the clash of monsters and this little dance with child abusers, there was blood all over the place. Moans of pain had signaled injury, a siren song for scavengers, the opportunists would be along soon and they’d be primed to kill anything that stayed behind. Leading the bestial warrior into the thickets was a nonstarter, who knows what he’d do, probably go snatch the kid. Ulric had to make a move and make it soon; the elevated forest was far more treacherous than the one below.
The Beastman nodded its head in salute and took up the trident to begin battle. This foe was worthy, a hunter of the ancient terror. It had slain his fellows with little effort. There were worse songs to have sung to one's pups than that their sire fell to the [Forest Lord]'s bane in even combat.
Ulric was pretty sure the ball was about to drop. It had only been a moment but he could see the monstrous humanoid making for something suspiciously similar to a sling in its belt. Fuck. Can’t let that happen Einar, he told himself.
He slid his right hand over the left, channeling frigid cold to create his [Ice Blade], a meter long blade of crystalline air and water reinforced to steel strength through Infrig. Staying back was right out, he couldn’t take a chance getting hit by a rock or metal ball bearing thrown by such an incredibly powerful creature. Midrange no good either, he’d end up spitted on those barbed tines.
Thoughts racing Ulric’s mind churned out the realization that he had to take the initiative, apply pressure, and use what remained of his magic, a tactic forming in his mind to get past the armor in which the barbaric warrior was encased. First though, there was the incredible reach of the large creature and its trident. He had a rough plan for dealing with that trident, getting inside its reach, and hoped it would work.
Almost like a gong had sounded the start of the fight, both combatants abruptly closed the distance, each trying to prevent the other from using some unknown ranged skill. Ulric struck out with his right hand channeling the power of Caelum from twenty meters away.
Godsdamnit he was a friggin geek, not a soldier! Too late to regret that now Einar, you stepped in it, now you gotta finish.
The large creature was clearly stronger than him, if the size of that trident and the way he’d pinned the viper was any indication, so Ulric couldn’t let anything hit directly. Gotta fucking distract him. Pocket sand!
[Wind Blade]
The dense blue air sliced through the space between them and was intercepted by the head of the trident. His hardened air magic shattered on contact, the spell’s mana coming apart to Ulric’s senses. The Beastman didn't blink as air shards bounced off its armor, its experience in armed combat vastly superior.
Piss, Ulric cursed, continuing to close in. That ruled out his Iceblade in melee. As they closed Ulric felt a detached sense of cool reason, different from the hot rage of his initial confrontation. Now that he’d confirmed the metal weapon's ability to shatter his [Ice Blade] if they met directly, his intuition shifted to find another tactic as the enemy moved into striking distance. For him, not for Ulric.
Four meters apart and the Beastman pulled back his trident for a lunge to spit Ulric. Damn it, he'd never be able to close the distance between them. At least, not by playing fair. Which was a stupid fucking idea to begin with. It wasn't exactly fair that the Beastman got to be a great wolf bastard with a huge spear to begin with.
On impulse, Ulric threw the [Ice Blade], the meter or so of hardened frozen razor flying for its face and, before the beast Viking could swing its blade and disperse it, pulled at Incendere.
[Flamecrash]
A weak [Flamecrash] intercepted the [Ice Blade] just as the trident reached forward to pierce it, the two spells colliding which carried them forward with their original momentum. Rolling steam poured over the Beastman's form causing him to roar his pain, flesh burned by roiling steam.
Ulric had never stopped moving forward, nor had he stopped channeling mana into an [Overcharge]. When the trident struck empty air, instead of the frozen blade, he took advantage and jumped as high as he could, which, thanks to a certain large bosomed Impossible, was about two meters vertical.
To his credit, the warrior knew he'd been had and turned rapidly pulling trident back to ready to intercept a weapon, even though his vision was clouded by the heat of the now dispersed steam. Rotating his body like a high jumper Ulric cleared the Beast-man, landing roughly on all fours behind his foe but rolling forward under the warrior's guard, even as the Wolven form readied itself to counter attack.
Betting that biology knew best, Ulric reached forward, underneath the haft of that polearm, placed his left hand on the metal of the armored cuirass just under the beast-man's right collar bone and his right hand on the left side above where the floating ribs were as the warrior turned.
Mandatory safety meetings on using defibrillators to the rescue. The safety officers never stopped bitching about the things. They'd been very clear about it. Wouldn't stop talking about it. Only use the thing if you were certain the heart had already stopped. Because if it hadn't and you hit them with those paddles at those points, it damn sure would.
[Voltaic Grip]
[Overcharge]'d Ceraun ripped across the meridians of the beast-man's heart, stopping it instantly.
The Beast-man was a hardened bastard. He knew he was dead. He also knew he didn't have to go alone. Lashing out the warrior used the haft of the spear to batter Ulric in the chest, launching him backwards to land on his back, lip cut and bleeding and eye blacked. As he lay there, the Wolven drew back the spear to impale him.
Ulric rolled quickly to stand and stomped a foot, pulling the last of his mana, this time focused to terra.
[Stone wall]
Liquid stone rose up behind the beast-man solidifying around the butt of the trident and locking the weapon in place.
A few aborted attempts to stab him stole the remaining strength from the warrior and he released the shaft, dropping to his knees with a hand over his chest. He looked like he wanted to say something. He died before he could, falling over onto his side. Could have fallen asleep if you didn't know any better. Probably a more painless end than he deserved, but Ulric had to admit that he couldn't bring himself to hate the creature. Disgust. Anger. No hate.
Ulric felt a rush of…achievement. Fulfillment. Victory soared through his veins, like a rolling flame. Gods he was never so alive than that moment. Ulric's heart thrummed within his breast and his body vibrated with adrenaline, power, and some unknown sensation. His foes, enemies who dared to trespass on his domain, challengers to his will, were dead at his hands and he was exultant.
*PING*
Heat suffused Ulric's core before pouring through his bones and radiating into his flesh. He was almost dizzy for a moment before the wave of sensation faded, leaving behind a humming in his body and soul. Suddenly, Ulric felt like he had become, all at once, more. It was as if he cast a greater shadow into the world, a deepening imprint, like he exhibited greater gravity around himself. A sense of strength, greater than any he'd ever known suffused his body, weighing against the mana exhaustion that even now weighed on him. A tickle of predatory anger briefly spiked and vanished.
Ulric snorted. He should've seen that one coming. Seemed like the Akashic record sort of just let you figure shit out on your own until you did something great. Or terrible. Sighing Ulric willed the status to his sight.
[Status]
"Oh my!" Ulric whispered.
This was unexpected. Very unexpected. And definitely a boon to his plans going forward. Ulric had been immersed in the wilderness of the glade for months. He'd hunted, fought, built, rebuilt, and learned at a pace unsustainable to his previous life. Mana pulsed in his bones, filling his body in a cycle of hot and cold that, once disturbing, now seemed a second heartbeat. He didn't even notice his core's rhythm unless he concentrated on it. But now, some threshold had been crossed, and he was no longer simply a resident of the glade but its master. The wash of strength he'd felt must have been all of those stats suddenly being added to his own, some influx from a source that he still did not understand. Later, he'd have to think about this later, for now, he couldn't afford to just sit around and wool gather.
Looking down at the body before him Ulric felt, not regret, more like completion. He had battled with a sentient creature who'd fought and died giving all they had in single combat. As much as he'd detested these raiders that contempt faded somewhat for the beastman at his feet. He could hate a man who lived and chose to hurt others while he did, but there was no sense hating a fallen soldier, even one against whom he'd been locked into a fight with their lives on the balance. Death evened most scores in his eyes. Whew lads, had he evened some scores today.
His blood had stopped its surging rush, and he no longer felt his heart beating like a war drum timing his movements to some kind of fierce song. Mana exhaustion was in full swing, his health had taken a hit and he felt like shit.
Ulric had to make some choices, and quickly. The screams of the guy with his arms bitten off had silenced at some point. Shouts of pain, battle, and dying would attract predators. There were nine dead men and two dead titans, along with a fallen bull scattered across the destroyed thicket.
Not to forget the catalyst for this little drama, the battered and bound elf child.
He was too tired to butcher the monsters, not even if it meant losing their cores. He'd have to carry the child down the tree to camp, there was no way he was staying in the endless cage match that was the canopy.
Ulric had decided he would haul the Wolven beastman back to camp for a proper burial. He'd fought bravely, both against the monsters and against Ulric. He'd also killed the coward, so it couldn't be said he'd done no good with himself. He was also wearing a rather interesting armor which Ulric could maybe use for ideas and, just maybe, reverse engineer to improve his own lot.
Decisions made and priorities sorted, Ulric stuffed the trident and that great scimitar into the fallen Viking's belt. The child turned out to be a boy and he was unconscious. His slight form was little in the way of burden, especially since, being secured to those poles would allow him to be packed like a hitchhiker's knapsack. After making sure the kid was breathing and confirming that he'd probably stay that way Ulric took the dead Viking's collar in right hand, hoisted the child in left and made steady way to the trunk that would take him back to his camp, grateful indeed for the extra oomph granted by his Lord bonus.
It took nearly two hours, travel slowed greatly by burdens, mana exhaustion, and extreme caution. Ulric refused to be ambushed like that [Shadow Panther], taken while bathing in victory. You weren't victorious until you lived to next sunrise.
Climbing down the tree had posed a problem until Ulric realized he could just push the corpse out of the tree and collect it and the weapons at the bottom. Not like it'd complain about the rough handling. The child he secured with some of those bindings, cutting them and making some loops to tie him to Ulric's bowstave. If anything happened, it would be far harder for the child to fall free.
Back at camp Ulric put the child inside his shelter, checking the boy's breathing again and satisfying himself that there was little he could actually do. Camp chores were attended to and Ulric bathed himself by the rock pool, strigil raking dirt, sweat, and dried blood from his skin. He'd gotten a significant amount on him from the child and from the spatters that had covered the Beast-man from the slaughter of the [Venom Bolt Viper].
At last, suns slipping down behind the enveloping canopy around his glade, Ulric was able to find a moment to sit down for a rest. Which is precisely when the child woke with a shrill scream.
