Chapter 59: 59. Skalla Mountains - Mountain Road

A growing crowd of demi-humans formed around Redmane and Vang.

More and more of them emerged from concealed tunnel entrances up and down the mountainside road. There were so many Redmane raised an eyebrow at them, wondered where they’d all been when their kin were down in the Gruu burrow trying to exterminate the Great Grandmother. Perhaps they too had been down there in different places, and he’d run into Vang by happenstance.

He’d been a victim of stranger coincidences.

The Chief stood opposite him, grinning crookedly, the head of his iron banded warclub rested upon his shoulder. He cut an impressive, if ugly, figure. Tall and long of limb, lanky almost. The fur cloak and patchwork armor added bulk to his appearance, almost making him look human rather than a vertically stretched demi-human. His ragged long hair began with a sharp widows peak high on his forehead, and his tusks were about the same shade of yellow as his eyes.

“Rules?” said Redmane.

“None of them minions you can make with yer magick,” said Vang.

Redmane smiled. “How about no Skills of any kind. Your club against my claws.”

A murmur traveled through the crowd of demi-humans. It sounded to Redmane like approval. He glanced around, saw eyebrows rising, a few looking at each other, nodding their heads.

As the demi-humans settled into a tense silence, Redmane centered his gaze on Vang and began to circle him.

Vang just stood there, grinning.

Then he lunged forward with shocking speed for his lanky frame.

The warclub swung in a wide arc at Redmane’s and he ducked, feeling the rush of air as the club missed by mere inches. He countered with a swipe of his left claw, aiming for Vang’s exposed side, but the Chief was quicker than he looked. Vang twisted away, the movement fluid, his counterattack bringing the club down in a vertical smash that Redmane barely blocked with crossed forearms.

The impact sent a jarring pain through Redmane’s arms, forcing him to stagger back. Vang pressed his advantage, stepping in with a series of brutal, swinging blows that kept Redmane on the defensive. Vang’s club was a blur, pushing Redmane further back as the demi-human crowd roared and whooped with excitement.

Redmane could shred that club with his claws. But first he’d have to catch it.

Easier said than done.

His back foot skidded against the rough, gravel-strewn ground as he caught another heavy blow, the force of it resonating up his arms. With a guttural snarl he pushed off the ground, using his low stance to spring forward like a predator. Vang, caught off guard by the sudden burst of aggression, swung his club in a hurried, less controlled arc.

Redmane dipped beneath the wild swing with primal grace and lethal intent. He surged up close to Vang, within the dangerous arc of the club, where the weapon’s length became a disadvantage. Redmane unleashed a flurry of slashes, his claws catching the light as they raked across Vang’s armored torso. Sparks flew where the claws rent against metal, tearing it open, a harsh grating sound muted by the crowd’s escalating roars.

Vang staggered back, his crooked grin faltering as he tried to regain his balance and swing his club. But Redmane was relentless. He streaked in again, feinting to the left and then slashing right, the blow sending one of Vang’s armor plates spinning up into the air as claws gouged deep into the flesh beneath.

Bleeding (4)

The demi-human chief’s breaths came in heavy, ragged gasps. Blood bloomed through the fabric.

He glanced down at the wound, grinned, nodded at Redmane.

Redmane smiled and nodded back.

They flew at each other again, and a hush fell over the crowd of demi-humans.

Vang’s warclub whooshed through the air, each swing a deadly arc promising crushed bones and pulped organs. Despite its mass, Vang wielded the club with an alacrity that belied his size, turning what should have been a cumbersome weapon into a lethal extension of his will.

Redmane flowed and countered with a predator’s instinctive sense of timing. The air around the tips of his claws seemed to thrum with energy, the sharp sound of them swiping through the air mingling with the thuds of Vang’s club. Through it all he had his eyes fixed on Vang. His unfaltering gaze was the eye of a storm of claws.

Redmane found himself growing to respect Vang. The demi-human chief fought with more than muscle; there was a sharp mind directing those blows, He noted Vang’s eye movements, similar to his own, tracking shifts in weight and posture, calculating. Ready to exploit even the smallest opportunity.

Truly, he wasn’t sure how he would fare. This was a formidable foe.

All the same, he felt a surge of confidence as he dodged another of Vang’s swift but weighty swings. The demi-human’s movements began to betray a hint of laxity, the angles of attack more predictable than they had been a few moments before. Perhaps fatigue had begun to set in. One could only whip such a heavy weapon around before they began to feel it.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Redmane’s instincts told him an opportunity was near.

He watched, prepared to exploit it.

Vang seemed to falter. His next swing came slower and he leaned out farther, leaving him open and off balance. Redmane’s eyes narrowed, focusing on the opening. A perfect moment to strike. With a low growl he feinted to the left, drawing Vang’s attention and provoking a backswing Redmane had seen the demi-human throw three times already.

But it was a trap.

It was not a lazy backswing; it was a feint within a feint, baiting him into the path of the true strike. The realization dawned a fraction too late. Vang’s warclub changed course with astonishing control, switched from horizontal to overhead as if the demi-human were drawing a question mark in the air.

Redmane’s eyes darted upward to the head of the club an instant before it smashed into his face.

The world exploded into white.

A blinding flash of pain radiated from his skull down his spine. Redmane’s ears rang, the sounds of the crowd and the mountain itself warping into a distant, distorted echo. His vision blurred, dark spots dancing before his eyes as he staggered back, his legs weak and uncooperative.

Corpus: 5235

Creating ten Spawn had been costly. Not as costly as a single blow from Vang’s club, but still, in the moment he found himself second guessing that decision. Pain pulsed with every heartbeat. It felt as if his skull might have cracked, the pressure inside building like a volcano set to erupt. His body swayed perilously.

Through the haze Redmane could see Vang drawing near, the warclub raised for another blow.

Adrenaline cut through the pain.

He knew he had to move, to escape, or he’d be taking a nap face down in the dirt.

Redmane stuck to his word. No Skills. He simply had to be faster.

His senses sharpened despite the throbbing pain in his head. His eyes, narrowed and intense, tracked every subtle shift in Vang’s muscles, the slight tension in his shoulders telegraphing the incoming strike. The club descended with a deadly whoosh, cutting through the air. Straight down, like the last one.

Redmane slipped sideways, his body low and agile, and on his way by he sank his claw deep into the flesh and muscle of Vang’s bicep, tearing through sinew and bone with a gruesome efficiency. Blood painted the gravel beneath their feet as

Vang’s agonized roar mingled with the gasps of the shocked crowd.

Bleeding (8)

In an instant, Redmane rendered Vang’s left arm useless.

It hung limp at his side. He looked down at it in dismay, showing concern for the outcome of this duel for the first time.

“You may resign, if you wish to,” said Redmane.

Vang’s eyes shifted his way, and the grin came back.

“Don’t have it in me,” he said.

Redmane smirked. “Nor do I.”

He rushed at Vang, and the demi-human did his best to keep up. With only one arm to wield that club, it moved slower, struck with less potence. Redmane, though rattled by the resounding blow he took, quickly regaining his power and swiftness. He met each swing of that club with deft evasions and savage counters, pushing forward, keeping Vang on the back foot. And watching, with his characteristic intensity.

Now he could do more than keep up.

Now he could overtake him.

The dynamic shifted palpably. Redmane began to dominate, his movements a blur of calculated aggression that forced Vang into a defensive posture and kept him there. Vang’s swings grew broader, less certain, and it was plain on his face that pure grit was the only thing holding back against dwindling stamina, creeping doubt and ongoing blood loss.

Meanwhile, Redmane’s attacks were sharp, each strike not just a blow but a declaration of intent. Every swipe of Redmane’s claws a near miss, then a nearer miss. Vang turned his body sideways, to present a narrower profile since his left arm was useless anyway. But it did little good.

A hush had fallen over the demi-humans.

They watched breathlessly, wide eyed, as Redmane marched Vang down. Backed him against a sheer rock face at a bend in the road. Waited for the Chief to set his jaw, growl, and make his final charge with club held high.

Down came the mightiest blow Vang could muster. A hammer stroke that could split skulls, crack stone, end the life of a man in one swift stroke.

Redmane caught it.

His right hand held the head of the club aloft. Vang’s arm shook, his teeth gritted. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.

Then Redmane wrenched the club wide to the right, and struck Vang’s neck with his left claw.

Dozens of pairs of demi-human eyes watched their Chief’s head pop off his shoulders and go spinning through the air. Redmane looked up, caught it, turned it so he was looking down into Vang’s wide, unseeing eyes.

“I like you, Vang. You’re going to join me.”

And then he ate Vang’s head in a few quick bites.

Demi-Human Chief Vang Slain

Tasks Completed: 2/3

Level Up

Level 83 —> 84

Level 84 —> 85

Level 85 —> 86

Quality Points awaiting allocation: 3

Redmane fed them to Might.

Might 57 —> 60

He stood there and waited a moment with the door to his Soulspace open, indifferent to the eyes of a whole demi-human clan glued to him.

My lord, was there something you needed? asked Pietr.

Redmane waited in silence.

What in the… Who are you?

Where am I. What’s this place. Who the fuck are you?

It was Vang’s voice this time.

I am Pietr, High Priest of Kraal, and I—

Get me the fuck out of here, scrawny, or I’ll split your head open.

Redmane smirked and did as Vang requested.

Spawn

Corpus: 4000

He extended his hand, palm facing forward, and it rippled like water. A sphere of red formed, swirling and glowing, expanding and stretching into an ovoid shape, until it was nearly a match for Redmane’s own height. And then the oval began to collapse into the shape of a lanky demi-human with a widow’s peak. The primary difference between the new Vang and the old one was his coloration — this body was crimson skinned, with rust colored hair and eyes a much more vivid shade of yellow.

Vang looked down at himself incredulously. He lifted his hands, turned them, examining them with shock on his face.

“You’re immortal now,” said Redmane.

Vang’s eyes snapped to Redmane, wild with confusion. The other demi-humans continued to stare as well, lapsing from simple awe into something like religious ecstasy.

“What did you say…” said Vang.

“What I eat becomes mine. You are now an extension of my own soul, and if the body you inhabit should perish, I can furnish another.”

The Demi-Human Chief stared for several long moments, his brows drawn together.

“Did you say you made me immortal?”

Redmane nodded.

“Well shit. Do that to my whole clan!”