"A corrupted soul, spat back from the afterlife, will always return to its own corpse to seek refuge - but what happens when their body doesn't stay dead?"
- Magister Harper in bard Cehrian’s cult horror classic “The Kerwyn Creature”
Thrakaduhl gripped his yumi bow in his left hand and the wood-cutting axe in his right. The axe was a simple man’s tool, but Thrakaduhl believed that if a man were strong enough, and daring enough, any tool could serve as a weapon.
Lionel’s guard fanned out around him, until the archers and the swordsmen formed a complete circle around them. Thrakaduhl realized there was only one reason for such a show of force – if Lionel started losing, he fully intended to have his men step in. The only way around that, was to ensure that Lionel lost suddenly and decisively, leaving no room for his men to rescue him. Unfortunately, Lionel was skilled enough to make that difficult.
Keeping the weighted wooden cane scabbard in his left hand, Lionel held his sword out wide, flipping it around in his right hand in a flamboyant way. He walked towards Thrakaduhl with the weapons spread out to his sides, exposing himself in an unsuccessful attempt to bait Thrakaduhl into a taking a wild swing at him. Failing to provoke his opponent into exposing himself to a counter attack, Lionel feinted high with the cane and then swung low with the sword.
Keeping the weighted wooden cane scabbard in his left hand, Lionel held his sword out wide, flipping it around in his right hand in a flamboyant way. He walked towards Thrakaduhl with the weapons spread out to his sides, exposing himself in an unsuccessful attempt to bait Thrakaduhl into a taking a wild swing at him. Failing to provoke his opponent into exposing himself to a counter attack, Lionel feinted high with the cane and then swung low with the sword.
Gripping the wood-axe with one hand, Thrakaduhl blocked the heavy cane, but rather than block the blade with the bow in his off-hand, Thrakaduhl hopped sideways and twisted the axe to force Lionel's cane in the way of his own sword swing. Thrakaduhl risked a tight spin hoping to take off at least part of Lionel's left arm with the axe. Lionel deftly dodged the move, and then changed his bearing, tightening up his form and moving more cautiously. Lionel held the cane high as a thin but quick shield, while snaking the blade back and forth beneath it, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Most orcs would have probably dropped the bow and started trying to crush their enemy with powerful two-handed swings of the axe. Thrakaduhl had grown up being the weak one, though, being beaten and abused by his much stronger father and his friends. He'd learned skills that relied on speed and precision, and he fell back on those skills now, wielding the axe and bow like a pair of elvish batons. Lionel advanced and suddenly twisted left, swinging the cane in an attempt to knock away Thrakaduhl's axe and lunge with his blade in the same motion. Rather than deflect the cane strike and leave himself open, Thrakaduhl used the axehead to hook the cane, and with a downward left twist he yanked the cane towards the ground. He'd expected that to block Lionel's lunge, but to Thrakaduhl's surprise, Lionel hadn't fully committed to the attack, and deftly twisted his sword to stab high, aiming at Thrakaduhl's face. Thrakaduhl jerked his head to the side as the razor sharp blade cut across his left cheek and ear. Lionel puled the blade back lower and swung it slightly sideways as he withdrew, trying to slice open Thrakaduhl's carotid artery. The orc twisted to protect his vulnerable throat, and suffered a painful but superficial cut across the back of his neck.
Lionel hopped backwards as Thrakaduhl used the momentum of his own dodge to drag the axe head through the dirt, narrowly missing Lionel's ankle. Neither of them pressed the attack, and instead found themselves staring each other down across the line Thrakaduhl's axe had drawn in the dirt.
"I'll admit," Lionel said, "I was expecting you to be a bit more exciting. I've drawn blood twice, and you've only succeeded in assaulting the ground. This duel is something of an anticlimax. Maybe I should tell my men to go take a break? Not going to be much of a show for them here.
Thrakaduhl ignored the painful cuts and smiled, "I don't know, I think things are looking up for me." With a powerful swing he tossed the wood axe straight in the air, and Lionel reflexively followed the weapon with his eyes. His right hand already high above his shoulder, Thrakaduhl grabbed one of the arrows from his quiver as he brought his hand down, laid it across the bow and nocked it without reversing his grip on the string. He drew and fired as the axe came back down, and caught the haft of the woodaxe back in his hand. Lionel staggered backwards with blood trailing from his cheek and ear where the arrow had narrowly missed his face.
Thrakaduhl knew he was doing well to have inflicted the flesh wound. The orc's yumi bow was a large weapon with long arrows. It was meant for a high power, long range weapon. Nocking one of the over-sized arrows, drawing the huge bow, and firing it in the one second it took for the axe to return didn't leave time for the more delicate art of aiming. Thrakaduhl's odds of actually hitting Lionel squarely in the face had been slim - especially considering he'd been aiming at the man's heart. But Lionel didn't know that, and the man's new found uncertainty gave Thrakaduhl a little breathing room.
Against Lionel, slow long swings would have been suicidal. Thrakaduhl knew he needed to focus on blocking and dodging more than attacking, because his opponent’s fencing style was built around turning an opponent’s attack into an opening. Lionel began attacking again, but he clearly held back with every strike, prepared to capitalize on an opportunity, or to dodge away from another stunt like Thrakaduhl had pulled with his bow. The man still had Thrakaduhl on the back foot, striking at his fingers and wrists in an attempt to disarm him, but he was now afraid to push his advantage by closing in, not sure what other surprises the orc might have.
Most orcs would have probably dropped the bow and started trying to crush their enemy with powerful two-handed swings of the axe. Thrakaduhl had grown up being the weak one, though, being beaten and abused by his much stronger father and his friends. He'd learned skills that relied on speed and precision, and he fell back on those skills now, wielding the axe and bow like a pair of elvish batons. Lionel advanced and suddenly twisted left, swinging the cane in an attempt to knock away Thrakaduhl's axe and lunge with his blade in the same motion. Rather than deflect the cane strike and leave himself open, Thrakaduhl used the axehead to hook the cane, and with a downward left twist he yanked the cane towards the ground. He'd expected that to block Lionel's lunge, but to Thrakaduhl's surprise, Lionel hadn't fully committed to the attack, and deftly twisted his sword to stab high, aiming at Thrakaduhl's face. Thrakaduhl jerked his head to the side as the razor sharp blade cut across his left cheek and ear. Lionel puled the blade back lower and swung it slightly sideways as he withdrew, trying to slice open Thrakaduhl's carotid artery. The orc twisted to protect his vulnerable throat, and suffered a painful but superficial cut across the back of his neck.
Lionel hopped backwards as Thrakaduhl used the momentum of his own dodge to drag the axe head through the dirt, narrowly missing Lionel's ankle. Neither of them pressed the attack, and instead found themselves staring each other down across the line Thrakaduhl's axe had drawn in the dirt.
"I'll admit," Lionel said, "I was expecting you to be a bit more exciting. I've drawn blood twice, and you've only succeeded in assaulting the ground. This duel is something of an anticlimax. Maybe I should tell my men to go take a break? Not going to be much of a show for them here.
Thrakaduhl ignored the painful cuts and smiled, "I don't know, I think things are looking up for me." With a powerful swing he tossed the wood axe straight in the air, and Lionel reflexively followed the weapon with his eyes. His right hand already high above his shoulder, Thrakaduhl grabbed one of the arrows from his quiver as he brought his hand down, laid it across the bow and nocked it without reversing his grip on the string. He drew and fired as the axe came back down, and caught the haft of the woodaxe back in his hand. Lionel staggered backwards with blood trailing from his cheek and ear where the arrow had narrowly missed his face.
Thrakaduhl knew he was doing well to have inflicted the flesh wound. The orc's yumi bow was a large weapon with long arrows. It was meant for a high power, long range weapon. Nocking one of the over-sized arrows, drawing the huge bow, and firing it in the one second it took for the axe to return didn't leave time for the more delicate art of aiming. Thrakaduhl's odds of actually hitting Lionel squarely in the face had been slim - especially considering he'd been aiming at the man's heart. But Lionel didn't know that, and the man's new found uncertainty gave Thrakaduhl a little breathing room.
Against Lionel, slow long swings would have been suicidal. Thrakaduhl knew he needed to focus on blocking and dodging more than attacking, because his opponent’s fencing style was built around turning an opponent’s attack into an opening. Lionel began attacking again, but he clearly held back with every strike, prepared to capitalize on an opportunity, or to dodge away from another stunt like Thrakaduhl had pulled with his bow. The man still had Thrakaduhl on the back foot, striking at his fingers and wrists in an attempt to disarm him, but he was now afraid to push his advantage by closing in, not sure what other surprises the orc might have.
Their pitched duel was interrupted when chaos erupted from the stables. There was barking and screaming, and the sounds of a lot of men shouting about a werewolf. Finally, one of Lionel’s brothers threw open one of the large doors and staggered out, clutching his throat. Blood pulsing out between his fingers, he didn’t make it more than a few steps before he collapsed to the ground. He was followed closely by a stampede of terrified horses, their would-be riders, and one frantic bull. Jon stalked out last, striding into the torchlight upright in his canine form. Under ordinary circumstances, his appearance might have been described as alarming, but not threatening. Now, however, his ears were laid back and his lips were drawn back to reveal long, sharp teeth. In one hand he carried a bloody farming sickle - a weapon of opportunity he'd seized in the barn, and in the other hand he carried the heads of three Kerwyns, his claws gripping their matted hair.
“I WANT MY WIFE BACK YOU BASTARD!” Jon's howl was jarringly human.
“I WANT MY WIFE BACK YOU BASTARD!” Jon's howl was jarringly human.
Lionel started to order his men to take the creature down, but the panicked bull had run right through the archers, scattering them. Behind Lionel, the people rushed down from the stands as quickly as they dared with their children and loved ones – most fled to safety, but many of the younger men and women fell upon Kerwyn’s men from behind, wrestling them to the ground and pulling their weapons away from them.
Jon ran into the midst of the maelstrom, flinging the heads at one of the guards, and downing another with the sickle. Lionel was cornered between the orc and the lycanthrope.
“Best do as the man asks,” Thrakaduhl said calmly, “I don’t think he’s interested in an honorable duel, and you’re a might outnumbered now.”
“That is true,” a voice said. It seemed to start in the box seats, but finish right in front of them. A woman… the young woman who’d accompanied Lionel to the race, now stood right next to the man, “Perhaps I can offer you more even odds.”
“No! Gabriella!” Lionel said, “The elf isn’t here! It’s a distraction!”
“The larder!” she suddenly said in realization.
“Go! You’re the only one fast enough!”
The woman flew into the dark sky with a sound like leather sails whipping in the wind.
“Well… that’s unusual.” Thrakaduhl noted.
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