• Drorodin's Blog:

Travails In Telara

By: Drorodin

Blazes it was hot. Ondroas wiped sweat from his brow as he circled his foe, a hulking Defiant wielding a massive mace that he knew how to use with unerring precision; he wasn't just big or smart, but both, and such a rare and powerful combination made for a potent foe indeed. They paced a tight circle around one another, kicking up little sand devils as they drew their defensive lines. Carrion had begun to circle overhead only moments into the fight, famished and expectant.

Scarlet Gorge was a hell of a place, a rolling expanse of sand dunes and dusty bones bleached white by the sun, peppered by what passed for civilization out here. It was a frontier of sorts, as each sandy cliff and wind-stripped hilltop potentially contained rich minerals and valuable ore, and both sides of the Telaran Divide had taken great interest in the lifeless land's hidden promise. Ondroas had come here seeking those faithful to the Vigil. Instead, all he'd found was dust, death and misery. Oh, and an absolutely colossal Defiant warrior.

The man's weapon was an ugly thing, the mace's blunt, unfinished end arcing in slow, heavy circles as the giant threaded the outer edge of Ondroas' guard, waiting for the right moment to smash his defense aside. They had been at this now for ten solid minutes, and the fight was beginning to wear Ondroas down. His shield arm rested a few inches below the ideal height, numbed almost completely by the ringing blows that had rattled his bones and left deep gouges in the face of his buckler. It had taken all Ondroas had to hold the monster back this long, and there was no confusion as to who was getting the worst of it.

The Defiant was barely sweating.

A sudden lunge and Ondroas' reprieve was at an end. The Defiant had stepped into his guard by exploiting a weakness he had not even considered and was now swinging his mace down in a crushing arc that would leave Ondroas' body a ruin. Rolling into the blow, Ondroas lifted his shield feebly and let the heavy weapon skip and slide off of it rather than take the full force of the attack. Even such a petty defense was enough to finish the work started on his arm, leaving it limp at his side, agonizing where it wasn't completely numb. The Defiant grunted what might have passed for a laugh and stepped in again. A wild, overhanded swing from the behemoth gave Ondroas the opportunity he needed, and with a deft flick of his gladius he opened the maneuver wide, delivering a crushing blow with his shield to the heretic's astounded face. The man stumbled backward, roaring and bleeding, but recovered quickly and was able to deflect what Ondroas had hoped to be the killing follow-up.

Heretic or not, he knew what he was doing.

Spitting blood, the Defiant spoke to him for the first time since he'd been ambushed and attacked. “Good show, Guardian,” he sneered, “I suppose I'll not even loot your corpse. Out of respect.”

Ondoas made no reply, instead taking this moment of gloating to suck in deep lungfuls of air and ready some kind of defense for when the Defiant came at him again. He lifted his shield again.

“Oh, come now,” laughed the man hoarsely, “Haven't I broken that little twig of yours?” He asked, leering at Ondroas' ravaged arm. In truth, Ondroas could feel several fissures and cracks along his forearm and the pain caused by sustaining the weight of his shield threatened to overwhelm his consciousness. But he needed that shield; or rather he needed the illusion of that shield, and the time it bought him to think.

“Broken it? I'm not even sure you've been hitting me! Are you sure you don't want to try this from the top?” He goaded, coming upon an unlikely idea and running with it, “Come on, I'll go back up the trail and pretend to be oblivious to your stench, then you leap out like a freshly branded yarnosaur and we'll start this whole thing again.” The Defiant's mood began to sour, his lip curling in an angry snarl. He was tired of this tiny Mathosian and his tiny insults. Ondroas pressed on.

“No seriously, I don't feel that this has been a fair match. I mean, I've been aware of your presence at least half the time, so that automatically gives me an advantage...” That was it. Bellowing with rage, the huge Defiant leaped at Ondroas, wicked mace swung high overhead. Ondroas stepped into the space between them and dropped to one knee, bracing as if to support his shield against the attack. As the mace slammed home however, Ondroas rode the blow once more, spinning as gracefully as he could under its crushing force. It was enough. The momentum generated by the Defiant's reckless assault provided the force that Ondroas' strength of arms no longer could, and with a wet slash the tip of his gladius bit deep into the back of the Defiant's neck, cutting through skin, muscle and bone. A strangled cry was all the massive warrior could manage before his spine splintered, rendering him mute, immobile and otherwise dead. The body crashed into the sand, stirring up swirls of dust and then lay still.

As the buzzards began their slow descent to feast, Ondroas sank to his knees and focused on looking alive.