718 Vhalar 56...
Sweat had begun to trickle down the side of his face. His breathing had become far more laboured, and he could feel the hot rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. His blood beat loud in his ears; his eyes darted between the half-disarmed “woman” and the approaching multi-legged “man”; his shield shuddered beneath the force of the bramble claw’s crushing grip.
In the next instant, Mathias fixed his shield in place, using both hands to tear away the woody vines as he hopped several steps back, avoiding the “woman’s” jabs and putting even more distance between himself and the “man”. He only glanced at the knife – a worn and chipped blade with a smooth stone handle – before he transferred it to his dominant right and held up a hand to draw his shield back towards him.
Entrapped as it was, it pulled the woman right along with it, “her” feet stumbling at first before breaking out into a short sprint. The remaining spindly arm of wood and vine that grew from her chest poised itself to strike against him, but, with a weapon finally in hand, Mathias opted to ignore it in favour of getting as close as possible to the creature’s body.
With a short hiss of air that escaped from between his grit teeth, he brought the knife down towards her chest, where he assumed the heart to be. Rather than the satisfying slick of metal slicing through flesh and sinuous creep, there was a brief flash of sparks and the unsatisfying, jarring vibration of his blade striking stone. Undeterred, even as the creature’s dagger darted forward to jab harmlessly at his throat in exchange for piercing through a couple layers of his etheric armour, he struck again in rapid succession, searching for a weak point.
Her head – specifically the empty, vine-covered space where the face should have been – proved effective. The blade sank deep into the space, cutting through the fibres and tip scraping against what he could only assume was the thing’s skull. As he withdrew to stab a second time, knife firmly gripped in his hand with the blade pointed downwards, the creature at last released “her” grip upon his shield, drawing the thorny appendage across “her” face and knocking his blade off trajectory. It cut into the woody fibres, and, while he was able to wrest it free by jerking back on it with a grunt of effort, it seemed to have little effect.
In the next moment, the claw rotated and lashed out at him, but Mathias was ready with his shield. The thorny limb slammed into the shimmering hardened air as he ducked low and, drawing the knife at an angle across his chest in wind-up, stabbed into the creature’s side. He managed to sink the blade about halfway into the flesh and verdant living cordage before he withdrew the knife, not wanting to linger, and, instead, willed his shield forward, shoving the creature’s claw back to expose the now oozing gash just off the middle of “her” face.
Straightening up, he stabbed at the thing’s head twice more in quick succession. If the creature felt pain, however, “she” didn’t show it. “Her” dagger lashed out, swinging frantically slicing away at his shields and costing him a wasted slash of his own knife as he was forced to take a step back just a trill too early, netting him nothing but empty air. The creature advanced, dagger still wildly swinging and claw once more gripping his shield – only this time it seemed to do so to deprive him of it rather than a true attempt to crush it.
Once more releasing the shield from his direct control, Mathias shoved his now-free hand forward. Ether burst forth, thousands of minuscule spheres of etheric energy swarmed through the air in front of him: fifteen thousand at each point, fifty thousand in between, chest height and push-
The dagger smashed into the suddenly firm wall of hardened air, faltering for just a moment, and Mathias lunged forward immediately, not wasting the opportunity he had created for himself. Knife raised level with his own head, he slammed it into the side of the creature’s neck, sinking it deep into the soft flesh. The spindly limb resumed its dagger’s dance, but, while it sliced through several more layers of his defences, Mathias held his ground and yanked on the knife.
It slid across the throat, tearing through the thin vines and weak tissue. Dark green ichor oozed out of the gash as he opened up the creature, bubbling up like hot molasses to dribble down “her” chest. With his free hand, he caught hold of the creature’s remaining spindly limb, which has slowed considerably and tore the dagger free. “She” swiped at him, the human arm ineffectually scratching at his armour, as he quickly began to stab with both hands at the body in front of him.
He avoided the chest, but the stomach, the face, and the thighs all quickly began to leak the same viscous fluid. “She” released his shield to strike at him with “her” claw, but with a twitch of his head, the shield shifted to settle above him, blocking her weakening strikes until the creature’s legs gave out and “she” slumped to the floor.
Just in time for the multi-limbed “man” to arrive.
Panting, brow now covered in sweat, Mathias turned to deal with the second threat; he turned too slowly, and instead found himself into the middle of a flurry of punches and kicks from a myriad of different directions. Already worn, his armor shuddered under the force of the strikes, and, though he did manage to position his shield between himself and the brunt of the assault, he still was forced to retreat, stumbling backwards, shoulders rising and falling with the effort it took to draw air into and force air out of his lungs.
The limbs never stopped moving, whirling and waving and jabbing and punching. Though he could get close, there was nowhere for the two blades to find purchase – nowhere but the limbs themselves. Neither the knife nor the dagger was strong enough to cut through bone, and while he didn’t doubt they could effectively rend through the creature’s skin, he doubted it would have much of an effect on the unfeeling mass of meat of creep before him.
Deciding to retreat further, knowing full well he was running out of tunnel, Mathias shifted his weight – but too slowly. The “woman”, not quite dead, lashed out, ensnaring his ankle in her vice-like grip and trapping him on the spot. He jerked against “her” to try to free himself, and, though she slid slightly across the writhing creep of the floor, it was too little too late.
The storm of fists and feet returned; the “man” let out a wet howl – whether it was of triumph or something else, Mathias didn’t have the time to decide. His abrogant’s shield absorbed the worst of it, but several punches and most of the kicks found their marks, slamming against his armour with force enough to break bones – and, unfortunately, enough to shatter through several more of the dwindling layers of his armour.
Unable to quickly retreat and ears keen to the approaching sounds of the child behemoth lumbering ever closer, Mathias was well aware he was running out of time. If both the creatures were alive and fighting when the third finally arrived, his chances of survival dropped considerably. Thus, while it was hardly ideal, he pressed forward, blades gripped tightly in his hands as he stabbed at the “man’s” throat.
Whether it was due to the unexpected nature of his change in tactics or that the creature’s power was purchased at the cost of finesse, he managed to cut into the pale flesh of the thing’s neck with his dagger, stabbing deep into “his” throat before a hand finally caught at his wrist and forcibly pulled it – and the dagger – away. His knife hand was intercepted by one of the waving limbs, cutting into the flesh of the forearm but otherwise doing very little.
Their shadows danced wildly against the walls. The ruddy light cast by his hands stained with the bloodlight’s pulpy juice had lost much of its intensity, resulting in a murky half-light wherein he was forced to squint to see accurately. He stabbed against the hand that held his arm capting, slicing through the tendons of the creature’s wrist, immediately loosening the grip enough to free himself – at least, free himself of the “man”, for the “woman” still held him in place.
Another fist circumvented the shield and slammed into the side of his head, shattering several layers of his armour and leaving him in an increasingly precarious situation. He grit his teeth and, for lack of any better options, stabbed once again. He wasn’t particularly pleased with himself or his – currently – failing investigation. Though his spark burned cold enough to chill him, it couldn’t stop the disappointed tone of Graciana’s words in that calmly ran through his mind.
“Really, Mads, is this the best you can manage?”
Sweat had begun to trickle down the side of his face. His breathing had become far more laboured, and he could feel the hot rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. His blood beat loud in his ears; his eyes darted between the half-disarmed “woman” and the approaching multi-legged “man”; his shield shuddered beneath the force of the bramble claw’s crushing grip.
In the next instant, Mathias fixed his shield in place, using both hands to tear away the woody vines as he hopped several steps back, avoiding the “woman’s” jabs and putting even more distance between himself and the “man”. He only glanced at the knife – a worn and chipped blade with a smooth stone handle – before he transferred it to his dominant right and held up a hand to draw his shield back towards him.
Entrapped as it was, it pulled the woman right along with it, “her” feet stumbling at first before breaking out into a short sprint. The remaining spindly arm of wood and vine that grew from her chest poised itself to strike against him, but, with a weapon finally in hand, Mathias opted to ignore it in favour of getting as close as possible to the creature’s body.
With a short hiss of air that escaped from between his grit teeth, he brought the knife down towards her chest, where he assumed the heart to be. Rather than the satisfying slick of metal slicing through flesh and sinuous creep, there was a brief flash of sparks and the unsatisfying, jarring vibration of his blade striking stone. Undeterred, even as the creature’s dagger darted forward to jab harmlessly at his throat in exchange for piercing through a couple layers of his etheric armour, he struck again in rapid succession, searching for a weak point.
Her head – specifically the empty, vine-covered space where the face should have been – proved effective. The blade sank deep into the space, cutting through the fibres and tip scraping against what he could only assume was the thing’s skull. As he withdrew to stab a second time, knife firmly gripped in his hand with the blade pointed downwards, the creature at last released “her” grip upon his shield, drawing the thorny appendage across “her” face and knocking his blade off trajectory. It cut into the woody fibres, and, while he was able to wrest it free by jerking back on it with a grunt of effort, it seemed to have little effect.
In the next moment, the claw rotated and lashed out at him, but Mathias was ready with his shield. The thorny limb slammed into the shimmering hardened air as he ducked low and, drawing the knife at an angle across his chest in wind-up, stabbed into the creature’s side. He managed to sink the blade about halfway into the flesh and verdant living cordage before he withdrew the knife, not wanting to linger, and, instead, willed his shield forward, shoving the creature’s claw back to expose the now oozing gash just off the middle of “her” face.
Straightening up, he stabbed at the thing’s head twice more in quick succession. If the creature felt pain, however, “she” didn’t show it. “Her” dagger lashed out, swinging frantically slicing away at his shields and costing him a wasted slash of his own knife as he was forced to take a step back just a trill too early, netting him nothing but empty air. The creature advanced, dagger still wildly swinging and claw once more gripping his shield – only this time it seemed to do so to deprive him of it rather than a true attempt to crush it.
Once more releasing the shield from his direct control, Mathias shoved his now-free hand forward. Ether burst forth, thousands of minuscule spheres of etheric energy swarmed through the air in front of him: fifteen thousand at each point, fifty thousand in between, chest height and push-
The dagger smashed into the suddenly firm wall of hardened air, faltering for just a moment, and Mathias lunged forward immediately, not wasting the opportunity he had created for himself. Knife raised level with his own head, he slammed it into the side of the creature’s neck, sinking it deep into the soft flesh. The spindly limb resumed its dagger’s dance, but, while it sliced through several more layers of his defences, Mathias held his ground and yanked on the knife.
It slid across the throat, tearing through the thin vines and weak tissue. Dark green ichor oozed out of the gash as he opened up the creature, bubbling up like hot molasses to dribble down “her” chest. With his free hand, he caught hold of the creature’s remaining spindly limb, which has slowed considerably and tore the dagger free. “She” swiped at him, the human arm ineffectually scratching at his armour, as he quickly began to stab with both hands at the body in front of him.
He avoided the chest, but the stomach, the face, and the thighs all quickly began to leak the same viscous fluid. “She” released his shield to strike at him with “her” claw, but with a twitch of his head, the shield shifted to settle above him, blocking her weakening strikes until the creature’s legs gave out and “she” slumped to the floor.
Just in time for the multi-limbed “man” to arrive.
Panting, brow now covered in sweat, Mathias turned to deal with the second threat; he turned too slowly, and instead found himself into the middle of a flurry of punches and kicks from a myriad of different directions. Already worn, his armor shuddered under the force of the strikes, and, though he did manage to position his shield between himself and the brunt of the assault, he still was forced to retreat, stumbling backwards, shoulders rising and falling with the effort it took to draw air into and force air out of his lungs.
The limbs never stopped moving, whirling and waving and jabbing and punching. Though he could get close, there was nowhere for the two blades to find purchase – nowhere but the limbs themselves. Neither the knife nor the dagger was strong enough to cut through bone, and while he didn’t doubt they could effectively rend through the creature’s skin, he doubted it would have much of an effect on the unfeeling mass of meat of creep before him.
Deciding to retreat further, knowing full well he was running out of tunnel, Mathias shifted his weight – but too slowly. The “woman”, not quite dead, lashed out, ensnaring his ankle in her vice-like grip and trapping him on the spot. He jerked against “her” to try to free himself, and, though she slid slightly across the writhing creep of the floor, it was too little too late.
The storm of fists and feet returned; the “man” let out a wet howl – whether it was of triumph or something else, Mathias didn’t have the time to decide. His abrogant’s shield absorbed the worst of it, but several punches and most of the kicks found their marks, slamming against his armour with force enough to break bones – and, unfortunately, enough to shatter through several more of the dwindling layers of his armour.
Unable to quickly retreat and ears keen to the approaching sounds of the child behemoth lumbering ever closer, Mathias was well aware he was running out of time. If both the creatures were alive and fighting when the third finally arrived, his chances of survival dropped considerably. Thus, while it was hardly ideal, he pressed forward, blades gripped tightly in his hands as he stabbed at the “man’s” throat.
Whether it was due to the unexpected nature of his change in tactics or that the creature’s power was purchased at the cost of finesse, he managed to cut into the pale flesh of the thing’s neck with his dagger, stabbing deep into “his” throat before a hand finally caught at his wrist and forcibly pulled it – and the dagger – away. His knife hand was intercepted by one of the waving limbs, cutting into the flesh of the forearm but otherwise doing very little.
Their shadows danced wildly against the walls. The ruddy light cast by his hands stained with the bloodlight’s pulpy juice had lost much of its intensity, resulting in a murky half-light wherein he was forced to squint to see accurately. He stabbed against the hand that held his arm capting, slicing through the tendons of the creature’s wrist, immediately loosening the grip enough to free himself – at least, free himself of the “man”, for the “woman” still held him in place.
Another fist circumvented the shield and slammed into the side of his head, shattering several layers of his armour and leaving him in an increasingly precarious situation. He grit his teeth and, for lack of any better options, stabbed once again. He wasn’t particularly pleased with himself or his – currently – failing investigation. Though his spark burned cold enough to chill him, it couldn’t stop the disappointed tone of Graciana’s words in that calmly ran through his mind.
“Really, Mads, is this the best you can manage?”
