Kieran stretched as he rose from his stony seat. He had followed the mountain’s ridges for roughly half an hour before deciding to take a break. According to Rah’Na, he should be nearing his target soon, and he wanted to be in his best condition for the fight.
“Walk along the ridges until you reach a small path leading up to a cliff overhang,” Rah’Na had told him before he set off. “There, you will find a boar-man surrounded by his lackeys. Bring me proof of his death.”
Rah’Na’s task had come with a barrage of warnings about Kieran’s target. The boar man was as fast as he was strong. His lackeys were not to be taken lightly. Most importantly, this group of monsters had dug in a while ago, so their position was likely to be reinforced.
Despite all this, Kieran felt only eagerness. He looked forward to studying the monster’s bodies after the fighting was over. Even if his only tool was a dagger, which was likely to damage the internals, he could no longer contain his curiosity. It was like an itch in the back of his mind he had to scratch at any cost.
Stretching his legs, Kieran continued down the ridge trail. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword. Though he’d owned the weapon for only a couple of days, its hilt was already a source of comfort to Kieran. It served as a constant reminder of his streak of victories in this new world.
But he tried to avoid dwelling too much on his success. His logical mind was well aware of the fact that overconfidence was an insidious killer, even worse than fear. Getting complacent with his victories would only lead to eventual failure.
Coolly, Kieran set aside both his recent successes and the ever-present desire to cut open his enemies. He focused instead on Rah’Na’s instructions, taking the wolf’s warnings to heart.
Before long, the trail turned and began taking him further up the mountain. Kieran stopped and looked ahead. There was the cliff overhang Rah’Na had mentioned, a few hundred yards further up. The path led directly to it. Wooden stakes poked out of the ground around the cliff’s edges, decorated with the skulls of various creatures.
Looks like I reached the camp.
From this distance, he couldn’t recognize what sort of creatures those skulls belonged to. More new specimens to examine once he got closer…
Kieran’s heartbeat quickened. He gripped the hilt of his sword, finding it difficult not to rush ahead at the prospect of new knowledge.
But first, he had to consider the options.
“Only one way in. No way to circle around… they chose the perfect spot to set up.” He swept his eyes over the landscape, talking to himself like he was back in the morgue, examining another corpse. “So, either a direct assault, or an attempt to draw them out. Unless I could climb up from below…”
Stepping up to the edge of the trail, he looked down past the ledge he was standing on. He guessed that he was at least two hundred feet up on a sheer cliff face. To reach the camp from below, he would have to work his way across the bare rock, then climb up.
He shook his head. “No ambush. I don’t have the core strength for that.”
Frowning, Kieran looked at the camp again. He really didn’t want to approach the fight directly. The boar-man would be the main event, but there could be many other battles besides.
Fortunately, even though their camp seemed to be sneak-proof, Rah’Na had let Kieran in on a supposed weakness of the boar-man: his pride. If Kieran couldn’t find a way to take his enemy by surprise, his target was prideful enough to accept a duel.
Whether or not Kieran could win that duel was another matter entirely.
Still, it was a better option than taking on an entire camp by himself. Confident as he was becoming in his new abilities, Kieran still couldn’t face off against even a few goblins without getting injured, let alone a camp full of new monsters in possibly significant numbers.
And so, his face as calmly blank as ever, Kieran continued up the path. He could tell at a glance that there was no one guarding the camp. The monsters appeared to be so confident in their position that they considered guards to be unnecessary.
Kieran stopped when he was roughly a hundred feet from the camp’s entrance and shouted as loudly as he could.
“I come with a challenge for your leader!”
His voice echoed off the rocky mountainside. Moments later, two gnolls poked their heads over the natural ramp leading into the camp, staring down at him. They started snickering as soon as they realized what he was.
“You, puny little human?” You want to challenge old Broken Tusk?” laughed one of the gnolls. “Should do you a favor and just kill you now.”
“I’d love to see you try,” Kieran countered.
He had observed long ago that anger causes mistakes. He would always take any opportunity to make his enemies seethe.
The gnoll’s face twisted into a grimace, but before it could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps came from inside the camp. Both gnolls froze and clamped their mouths shut.
Kieran could feel the ground shake slightly with every step the creature took.
Heavy on his feet. Means he’s probably slow, Kieran mused. I can exploit that.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
A massive humanoid with the head of a boar appeared at the top of the ramp.
Standing at least eight feet tall, Broken Tusk wore only shabby leather pants decorated with various bones, showing off his well-defined muscles. His body, head included, was covered in a small layer of bristled fur. His face sported a variety of scars. True to his name, his left tusk was broken.
In his right hand, he carried a battle axe. The weapon’s head was about the size of Kieran’s torso.
Broken Tusk looked down at Kieran, sizing him up for a few seconds before cracking a vicious smile. “You come to challenge me, tiny man?”
The provocation didn’t phase Kieran. He simply leaned his right hand against the hilt of his sword, pushing it into a ready-to-draw position. “Tiny I may be, but yes. I have come to visit death upon you.”
"Ha! I see that bracelet on your wrist, tiny man. Death’s Chosen, and you have a death wish. Ought to just throw you to the pack,” Broken Tusk mocked, gesturing with his whole body to the gnolls. The underlings cackled in glee.
“And show weakness?” Kieran shot back, locking eyes with the monster.
The following silence was deafening. Even the gnolls’ laughter cut off abruptly. Kieran and Broken Tusk stared each other down, the gnolls looking intently back and forth between them.
“Heh. If you were on this side of the invasion, I would’ve liked you,” Broken Tusk replied. He grinned again, the expression stretching the scars on his face grotesquely. “Come, tiny man. Let us fight like warriors ought to.”
Having accepted the challenge, Broken Tusk turned and walked back into his camp. Kieran followed, strolling casually past the gnoll guards and paying them no mind.
He was suddenly glad that he had decided not to engage the camp directly. A quick scan revealed at least twenty monsters, including gnolls, goblins, and two other boar-folk. All their eyes were fixed on Kieran as he strode to the center of camp.
Broken Tusk waited there, resting his axe in front of him with his hands crossed on the weapon’s top. The two fighters locked eyes again, waiting for each other’s move. Tension was palpable in the air.
Kieran could hear the other monsters whispering. They were betting portions of their food rations on how quickly Broken Tusk would kill him.
A grim smile twisted Kieran’s face. He found it amusing just how… human these monsters were, at least when it came to their entertainment.
“Ready your weapon, tiny man. I will not have it said I won through cheap tricks,” Broken Tusk growled, lifting his axe. “And tell me your name. I would know whom I slay.”
Kieran drew his sword. His face and voice were equally devoid of expression.
“Kieran.”
“Well, Kieran,” Broken Tusk bellowed, “you have my word that should you win, by some miracle, these fools will let you leave.”
The boar-man looked around at his war band, waiting until the gathered monsters grumbled their agreement.
Then Broken Tusk turned back towards Kieran. “Let us begin, then.”
Although surprised that Broken Tusk would give him the courtesy of such assurance, Kieran didn’t hesitate to raise his blade. He dashed forward and aimed a slash at the boar-man's thigh, positioning himself so that only the tip of his blade would make contact.
Reacting with surprising speed and precision, Broken Tusk batted away the probing strike with the haft of his axe. The parry knocked Kieran’s blade to the side with ease. In the same motion, Broken Tusk brought the bladed side of the axe down towards Kieran’s chest.
Kieran readjusted his footing in a split second and threw himself to the side, out of the way of the axe. His probing attack had served its purpose: revealing his enemy’s speed.
Fast… but not fast enough.
Kieran’s overall strategy was simple. Be faster, cut often, and bleed the boar-man dry.
Employing the fancy footwork he had learned in fencing years ago, Kieran dashed backwards and then to the side. This forced Broken Tusk to reposition as well. Immediately, Kieran dashed to the side once again. He swung his sword in a back-handed arc and slashed across the boar-man's belly.
The blade barely sank into the monster’s flesh, leaving only a scratch. Still, the wound bled. That was all Kieran needed.
Without so much as a sound, Broken Tusk twisted his body in place and stabbed down with the haft of his axe. While the strike failed to hit, Kieran couldn’t stop himself from tripping on the weapon. He stumbled forward, readjusting as quickly as he could. But just as he regained his footing, Broken Tusk brought his axe down in a deadly swing aimed at Kieran’s chest.
Barely in time, Kieran leapt backwards. While his dodge did save his life, the axe cut across his chest, drawing blood.
Kieran grimaced as the watching monsters cheered raucously. Though a superficial cut, it sent a wave of pain through Kieran’s body.
But the attack also left his enemy fully exposed. Kieran took full advantage of it. He ignored the pain and unleashed a series of blows against Broken Tusk, aiming for the foe’s neck.
The first of Kieran’s strikes cut across his enemy’s clavicle, once again only scratching him. The second was intercepted by Broken Tusk’s forearm. This strike sank an inch into flesh, teasing a pained squeal from the massive monster.
For his third attack, Kieran dashed past his enemy. He drew Last Breath while moving. Digging in his heel to cut his momentum, Kieran pushed his arm forward with all his strength, planting the dagger in Broken Tusk’s side.
Broken Tusk roared in pain. The gathered crowd of monsters fell silent, all aghast in shock.
Before Kieran could continue his assault, Broken Tusk threw his elbow backwards and caught Kieran in the chest. The blow struck directly at Kieran’s existing wound. Dazed from the sudden pain, Kieran failed to react as Broken Tusk thrust the haft of his axe directly into the man’s chin.
Kieran’s world went white with agony. He felt himself fall to the ground, still clutching his weapons, but only just clinging to consciousness. Dimly, he was aware of the boar-man looming over him, axe held in both hands.
With the last vestiges of his strength, Kieran rolled to the side, partially dodging what could have been Broken Tusk’s coup de grace. The axe still found purchase, though, biting into Kieran’s lower abdomen.
Kieran could feel the blood pouring from his body. Tunnel vision set in moments later, and he knew he was slipping into shock. His consciousness was fading into the cold, dark embrace of death.
He felt utterly calm.
So, this is what it feels like…
Then something clicked in Kieran’s mind. Through the mental haze, he felt the cold energy coursing through his body like never before. He recalled the images he had seen by his fire in the ruins, during his first true meditation on Vahr’Khul.
An immense void.
Distant stars.
A presence, impossibly cold and strange and yet… familiar. Welcoming.
The Promised End…
Understanding awoke in Kieran. He discerned the rhythm in the muffled sounds of his slowing heart — sensed the air more clearly in his swiftly freezing lungs — glimpsed the answer to all mysteries beyond the tightening of his vision.
And this knowledge reinvigorated him.
Pulling on the thread of energy in his mind, he called on something new: Form of Death.
Kieran’s body turned to mist, instantly reforming some thirty feet away from his enemy.
Even as he moved, Kieran called on Mend. His wounds closed almost immediately. When his body returned to its original form, the only remaining sign of the battle was his ruined robe.
Kieran raised his sword and gazed coolly at the boar-man, carefully concealing his weariness. His mind felt cold and utterly clear. He could sense the pool of energy within him was drained heavily, but he had bought himself a second chance.
“Well, there seems to be more to you than meets the eye, tiny man,” Broken Tusk taunted as the two refocused on each other. “Maybe I should take this seriously.”