Stratothrax
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Chapter 100
🕑 Added 2021-06-20 01:21:07 +0000 UTC◈ Chapter 100:
Rain had meant to antagonise the Orcs enough that another would step up and fight him, better that than simply being executed, helpless to prevent it while the girls were held under threat.
But perhaps he had gone a tiny bit overboard.
Something predatory and dominant stirring deep inside of him had caused him to do something he hadn't quite intended, literally biting Tamriel’s entire head off was... dramatic, to say the least, not to mention calling the clan of very proud and vain Orcish warriors fluffy little bunnies.
The Orc’s as a result looked like they were having a collective rage heart attack, an apoplectic wall of forehead-vein-bursting spleen-shattering wrath that was screaming down at him from the stands on every side.
The only reason they weren't charging the arena was because Rugnor had their attention. The huge Orc was stood on the sands, an authoritative look in his eye as he stared down the entire crowd, an aura of pure will radiating from his body in waves. He was a big, wide Orc with arms the size of legs and nobody wanted to go against him.
Even the higher level Orc’s in the crowd hesitated to approach the intimidating Rugnor. Rain wasn’t surprised, he suspected this one was significantly stronger than Tamriel had been.
From the edge of one of the stands several young Orcs were struggling and grunting with something, bent over as they dragged the mass across the ground with great difficulty. Rain caught sight of it as one shifted, a massive anvil, a wide gouge left in the sand as the enormous chunk of metal was moved.
The young Orcs finally made it to where Rugnor stood and they as one flopped onto their backs gasping like beached fish, chests rising and falling, desperately trying to catch their breath.
“R-rugnor... s-sir…” said one raising a wobbly arm.
“Pathetic boy, you look like you’ve shit out yer heart.”
Rugnor reached down and his meaty fist wrapped around the shaft of the anvil hammer. He straightened, lifting the enormous thing with ease, the chunk of heavy metal weighing hundreds and hundreds of pounds held casually in one hand.
Rain eyed the hunk of metal uneasily, bad memories rising of just how destructive such a barbaric weapon could be, and more importantly the utterly ludicrous strength of the leveler who wielded it. This anvil hammer was decidedly more deadly looking than the last one too, black iron scarred with use, steel rimmed around the corners, stubby spikes scattered across the flat top. It looked like a weapon that had seen decades of use, decades of killing.
“I’s not one to take things personal like, but I takes exception to a monster calling me a little bunny wabbit. It would shame our clan to have a monster come into the heart of our camp all cocky like and call us such a thing without proper answer.”
Rugnor glanced from his hammer to the teeth currently orbiting Rain.
“Cute little fings those are, like little flies buzzing around an horse’s arsehole.”
He brought his free hand down to his hip and loosed a heavy butcher’s cleaver from his belt, the thing stained with crusted pig blood, blackened and browned with age.
Without even looking his arm snapped out to the side, the cleaver whipping out and connecting with a pair of teeth that had been sneaking up on him, the shadowy shape dissipating to mist as the metal struck it.
“Not fast enough with the hammer?” questioned Rain.
“Hammers ain’t fly swats, gotta use the right tool for the job.”
He hefted the hammer and eyed Rain.
“Now this hammer is more or less good enuf fer the likes of you, it is what we’s use ter squish monsters, what we’ve always used.”
“We? You share the hammer?”
Rugnor scowled. “Nah yah bloody idjit, s’was our family line uses, always ‘ave, ‘s tradition.”
Rain paused. “Oh... So that’s why she used such a thing.”
The Orc blinked at him then furrowed his brow.
“Wha did you jus’ say?”
“You aren't the first Orc I’ve fought to use a hammer like that. There was an Orc called Ola who had one like it too.”
The boisterous crowd quieted as Rain spoke, the cheering and jeering dropping off suddenly, awkwardly, the name drop having a chilling effect.
“Why do you know that name? WHY DO YOU KNOW THAT NAME?!” roared Rugnor taking s threatening step forward.
“She was in the dungeon, we met and she tried to kill me… and she died trying to do so.”
The aura of will that surrounded the Orc boiled, changing, a feeling of heated Wrath filling the air.
“My niece...you killed my…” He drew in a ragged calming breath but became no less agitated. “I ser’pose I should be grateful,” he managed to grit out. “When a leveler dies in a dungeon and the monster that killed them escapes then that monster will almos’ nevah be found and brought low for what they did. Vengeance is as rare as pickled hen’s teeth. Too many monsters lookin’ alike and too big ‘a dungeons ter find ‘em.”
Rugnor lifted one heavy boot and slammed it down. The dark centipede that had been trying to stealthily crawl toward his ankle was crushed into a puff of shadow with a boom. The sand trembling under the impact.
“So know am not taking this opportunity for granted wolf when I make you a broken mangled thing that makes pig offal look purdey in comparison.”
Rain shrugged lightly. “She demanded I fight her then forced the issue, I would have left her alone if she had left me alone. Basically she made a mistake, like stubbing your toe, seems like a pretty petty thing to avenge to be honest. Who avenges a stubbed toe?”
“You killed her monster.”
“If a bunny rabbit walks into an open fire is it the fire you take vengeance on? I am a ‘sub-sapient’ monster, you’re getting mad at nothing, just an unthinking thing like fire or water.”
Rugnor did not seem to like this portrayal. He sneered and the fist around the shaft of the hammer became white knuckle.
“Trying to twist things all up with words like some slimy merchant fuck, try and squirm all youse want there’s still gonna be nothin’ left of youse by the time I’m done.”
“...Like there was nothing left of Ola after I ate her alive?”
Rugnor’s face became stricken then a cold dark fury filled his eyes. He swung the hammer up in both hands, cleaver pressed to the shaft, and with a bellow of rage stormed forward, his heavy boots pounding the sand, heavy and swift, like a great war drum.
Rain watched then stepped back a fearful look on his face, eyes wide, paws rising to protect against the oncoming threat. He backed up quickly now near stumbling, Rugnor came on sensing weakness.
One thing Rain was grateful for having learned in his past life: In a fight for your existance there was no shame in cheating as flagrantly and as much as possible.
The sand erupted around Rugnor’s legs and the six bear trap teeth he had formed in the sand under his footpads lunged at the enormous Orc.
Rugnor reacted slowly, his rash mistake in using both hands on the anvil hammer limiting what he could do, Rain’s provocation causing him to fall fully into the trap.
The nearest set of teeth was right next to his boot and it lunged upward, in a flash the teeth sunk into Rugnor’s calf and inches of flesh were ripped free. The rest of his skin and muscle and fat went berserk as the urge to flee exploded through it on every biological level, here was a predator and it was prey, even cells understood that.
Rugnor let out a frustrated scream of pain, spittle flying from his mouth, but in the same moment he swung the hammer down as hard as he could, myriad Skills triggering in a fraction of a moment.
Rain had heard stories of meteors landing in the woods. Those long lines of light sometimes seen flashing across the night sky supposedly could come down to earth creating great craters and felling dozens of trees.
This felt like how he imagined being near that would… times ten.
The ground went concave.
Rain’s feet lifted away from the sand, or rather the sand dropped below him, the ground sinking under the sheer impact. In the short moment he was airborne he had a full view of all the wolf teeth instantly gasifying as an invisible shockwave ripped them apart. Spreading outward it struck him and his vision momentarily went dark as consciousness flickered. His Body went flipping through the air, and then he was in the stands, the wood shattering beneath him as well as several unfortunate Orcs. The entire square wooden section of the stands tilted back, rising up in the air, looking like it was going to flip over, but then it came back down with a boom, sand and dust billowing around it.
Rain blinked, his eyes horribly gritty with sand. He raised his paw and wiped at his eyes, clearing the irritating stuff away.
As he removed his paw he found an Orc standing over him where there had been none before. The Orc had his hands over his head, a dagger already plunging toward Rain’s heart, a look of terrible greed on his face, a need to kill and a need to level.
Instinctively teeth and claws disgorged from Rain's chest and the Orc who was only wearing a cuirass for armour could only watch in horror as his arms disappeared in a snapping snarling clawing whirl of physicalised terror. He tried to pull away but already the darkness had taken his arms and a moment later it consumed his head. A spray of red spewed from the dark and Rain was forced to kick what remained of the body away to avoid getting entirely covered in gore as the rest of the Orc fell to pieces.
The darkness slunk back into his fur as he climbed to his feet.
Standing didn't help much with telling what was going on. It was like standing in the middle of a sandstorm the air was so full with sand and dust, as a result the Orcs struggling around him were only vague blurs.
Realising that he needed to ensure Rugnor’s death as a priority he rushed down the stands, vague forms of Orcs appearing through the dissipating sand storm as he went. Not pausing he leapt over any who got in the way and came down in the arena as the last of the sand in the air was starting to come back down to earth.
The arena was less of a nice flat fighting arena and now more a long shallow slope toward a central point. A central point where Rugnor was crouched, half buried in sand, his weapons missing.
Dark centipedes rolled from Rain's legs and raced ahead toward the Orc, ready to end him. The Orc glanced over his shoulder as he struggled to rise, sand sheeting off his body.
“Youse look like a brute, but really you are conniving and sneaky as a street rat.” He spat sand to the side as the centipedes approached, his partially eaten away calf poured blood as it was pulled free, his leg shaking as he forced what remained of it to support himself. “Ola never stood a chance ‘gaints youse, takes too much after me.”
He produced the cleaver and flipped it in one hand, then flicked his arm out. The steel shot through the air and slammed home into the body of one of the centipedes. It shrivelled for a moment then gasified.
Rugnor curled his thick fingers at the cleaver and the blade ripped from the sand and flew back into his hand just as Tamriel’s crossbow had. His hand caught it as it was already in a throwing motion and the cleaver leapt forth once more, then again, centipedes falling to pieces under the swift and accurate onslaught.
Rain bounded forward closer and closer with each stride. As the last centipede disappeared he leapt into the air, shadowy claws outstretched, preparing to rend the Orc apart.
Rugnor snarled, his face twisting in hatred, and his hand reached out calling back the cleaver. Didn't matter. It wouldn't stop him. The calling force on the weapon was weak compared to when it was thrown, and it would not be caught in time.
The scythe like claws began to descend but then Rain caught the slightest twitch in the Orc’s face, an expression instantly hidden.
Glee.
His mind went into overdrive in a fraction of a second, what the hell had the Orc done? The cleaver? But it didn't move fast enough when being called, hell the Orc’s outstretched hand wasn’t even pointing in the direction it had lande-
Rain’s eyes widened fractionally and he twisted in mid-air.
The sandy slope exploded and the anvil hammer roared forth straight on track for Rain, its frightening momentum from when it had originally struck the ground somehow partly preserved and reused.
The enormous mass of metal smashed into Rain’s side and the grizzly snapping of multiple ribs filled the air. Rain was sent spinning like a top as it glanced off his rib cage, his body a blur of motion as he crashed back down to the ground in a spray of sand.
Disbelieving that he had just fallen for his own damned trick he struggled up and rolled over, gasping in pain as what felt like half his ribs on his left side had been snapped and splintered, ends grinding against each other. With difficulty, a line of drool hanging from his lip, he managed to make it onto all fours, making weak wheezing breaths.
“‘Course, I was completely lying about her taking after me, I’m much much more nasty.”
The sound of air being disturbed by a great mass tearing through it caught Rain's ear and he flung himself to the side rolling onto his back once more, the anvil whistling by his body mere inches away as it whipped around.
He realised he had moments to do something, anything, as the Orc swung the hammer around himself and then up over his head in a great and terrible arc.
Shadows boiled from his fur and his mane rippled, an unthinking twisting amalgamation of half formed teeth and claw and centipedal spines and legs and rat heads and talons all reaching for the Orcs body, a nightmarish abomination.
Too late.
The hammer came down and Rain could do nothing but raise his paws.
The lump of metal struck as the mess of predatory darkness pierced the Orc’s gut.
The metal landed, although not on Rain's real paws. At the last possible moment Rain had willed the shadow paws to move through his real paws and out the other side so that the larger shadow versions of his paws were floating in front of his real paws.
The dark paws took the massive anvil on with a great boom of impact. One moment, two, then they burst under the insane strain, the strongest shadow form he could muster failing, the hammer slowing only slightly.
Then the metal hit his real paws below and the breath was driven from his lungs as the pressure wave struck his body, his fur rippling wildly, the hammer slowed, slowing, his arms audibly creaking as bones began to shear apart under the impossible force, his raw strength all that was stopping that immense weight of metal from making his rib cage concave and instantly killing him.
He grit his teeth and put his all into countering the impossible momentum of the hammer.
The weight came down, down, it felt like trying to stop a building from crushing him to death, his muscles were failing now, ligaments tearing away bit by bit, breaking down and coming apart, catastrophic failure imminent.
The metal inched toward his chest, about to slam down and make ruin, and then it… stopped.
Rain heaved the huge slab of metal to the side, desperately drawing in air, having to push to the surface of the sand as his body had sunken a good foot down into it.
After a moment he looked up to find why the Orc had stopped.
Rugnor had been bisected in two. His upper body lying on the sand. His intestines were flopping and moving away like snakes trying to escape, a horrifying sight, but despite all this, somehow, the Orc was still alive, his incredible vitality keeping him breathing. What was more he had managed to recover the cleaver and was struggling toward Rain, pure white hot hate in his eyes.
Rain lifted one tired arm slow to defend, his body weak.
The cleaver came down, a deathblow. It missed. The handle instead striking Rain's arm, the blade over the top, inches from his face.
The Orc screamed his fury, whipping the blade up and swinging it down.
“Pig shit monster filth, DIE DIE DIE!!”
Rain darted his paw out claws and teeth reaching from his fur, between his real claws and pads.
The dark claws slipped into the Orcs fat folded neck, and sliced across, the layers parting. Blood burbled up the Orc’s throat and poured from his mouth, spilling down his chin, joining the waterwall of crimson rolling down his front.
Rugnor gave Rain one last look of naked hatred and then he slumped dead on the sand and Rain was left breathing ragged, alone, well that is if you didn't count Rugnor’s corpse staring back at him with that curious flatness of the dead.
