It seemed a small thing, the naming of names and titles, and, against the backdrop of the dangers of Varda, it is, but it brought down barriers between the two travelers and they continued their journey into the wilds with more ease than before. Kilometers stretched on and were then swiftly discarded as the pair made way through the forest that had previously been viewed from on high.
Leaving behind the [Ancient's Gate], Ulric couldn't help but notice the astounding difference in this biome compared to the one in which he'd been dropped. If he ever got to have words with that Watcher again he'd ask Queen Blessed Tits why he'd been brought into this world in maybe the most dangerous, most isolated place on the continent, far from civilization, and almost certain to run afoul of a super predator feared for its savagery for a millennium. Perhaps it had been a form of right of passage; the plateau had been a test to determine if he'd had the strength, cunning, and will to earn a place in this world. Whatever the reason, this place Brighteyes called the Deep Wood consisted of forest land more comparable to the forests of Earth. If those forests hadn't been destroyed hundreds of years prior by human agriculture and industry that is.
Here, a hundred species of tree rose up to form a far less oppressive, though still complete, canopy, now fractured by the gaps of fallen leaves. Some trees had gnarled bark some smooth as Aspen. Predominant were the ones that were rough like an oak, although the leaves held a shape more akin to a trefoil than the typical long series of lobes and sinuses, and rose a few hundred feet from the forest floor, with trunks at least fifteen meters in diameter at the largest. These were the tallest of the wood but far from the only large species. A completely different variety was far stranger, growing with a trunk some twenty meters around that rose thirty meters before branching wildly outward with coniferous, spruce like bows that reached another eighty or so meters up. Such occupied an incredible forest footprint but were scarce in relation to their more Earthly brethren.
Still others were akin to the maple, the sycamore, ash, the hemlock, growing between thirty and a hundred meters tall. The rich diversity of this wood was observed both in homogenous groves in their own particular places between hill and dale and in interspersed copses along the boundary zones in elevations or watershed. These lesser trees grew plentifully, able to flourish despite not reaching as tall as their giant cousins, a fact Ulric attributed to the sheer height of those, they grew so tall that they left a gap between themselves and the rest of the forest, through which sunlight could filter down.
Undergrowth was plentiful but not thick, the shade keeping it from creating the tangles Ulric had fought through on his normal hikes through underdeveloped forests. Instead, the bushes, shrubs, herbs, and fern like plants of the forest floor were like an accent and accompaniment to the greater orchestral arrangement of the trees. Through it all, there ran what had to be definite game trails running wide and clear to evidence their traffic.
In contrast to the enormous rolling hills of the plateau, which had almost certainly been created by the fall of ancient trees eons ago that had been buried under leaf falls for gods only knew how many centuries, this forest had a far more gentle terrain, sloping gradually downwards towards that distant river. There were regular streams running here and there, sometimes pooling to create soggy wetland forests, but no bogs, at least not that Ulric saw as they trekked; just easy water and smooth trails.
Autumn still held strong here, the air lacked the sharpness of the high altitude they'd left behind and many trees were still leafed, though it was clear that wouldn't remain true for long. Even so, the middling temperatures made for a reasonably comfortable hiking condition and Ulric marveled at the ease of their travel.
It would not be beyond reason that Brighteyes was taking them through the safest, most conservative way through the wood. He followed mostly the established game trails. Occasionally they would pause while he oriented himself or climbed a nearby tree, which feat was done with all the alacrity and grace you might anticipate from a wood elf according to the Earthly lore.
Ulric pondered these odd overlaps in what the humans of his old life had created myths around and how much these myths were influenced by possible connections between worlds. The Watcher had spoken of resonance, as if the two worlds existed somehow simultaneously like waves running through and past each other but, with the possibility of interaction. Ulric had suspicions that he hadn't been moved a distance during the Watcher's miracle, but rather through dimension. Not like he could ask though.
Attention to the signs of the forest, contemplation of his old world's "might haves", and ruminating on the nature of the connection between old world mythos and this world's reality kept Ulric's mind full while the only sounds that were made between the two travelers consisted of briefly whispered directions or their soft footfalls on beaten track. Travel was swift along these well-worn trails and Ulric was glad of the relative lightness of his pack, as well as for the hardening of his body that he'd undergone those previous months on the plateau.
The pair had accelerated gradually and were now rucking a pace that would have put a bunch of hardened Rangers to shame. That the recently convalescent elf could keep it for so long was highly questionable to Ulric, the kid's endurance stat didn't indicate this kind of stamina. At last, Brighteyes came to a halt and announced that their days journey was at its end. The kid was showing the signs of over exertion.
"We need stop now Ulric, ready camp for night. It is a few hours before dark and we need clear the game paths to avoid hunting animals and monsters. They follow the trails like we do but will not stray from easy path unless provoked or find sign of food in bush. We leave little track and will get far enough off way to slip their attention. Probably." This announcement was punctuated with deep breaths and sweat clearly soaked the youth's clothes.
Definitely pushing too hard, Ulric thought.
While Brighteyes described their course of action Ulric noticed that the stumbling and frequently broken speech of their early days had, over the last few weeks, become far smoother, which slightly shamed his own efforts in Elvish. In addition, now in this place, the youth spoke with greater confidence now that he was in his element. The kid seemed glad to be home and was naturally assuming a leadership role, product of habit in his homeland no doubt. In a way, Ulric was glad the baton had been passed and that he could become a more passive observer, even if that meant following the lead of what amounted to a child’s first road trip. Fuck it, we are all of us children in the eyes of the world.
This day's pace though indicated that Ulric would need to keep a hand on the reigns, to some extent. It was a common problem for young hikers on their first big excursions. They used themselves up on the first couple of days, pushing their bodies far beyond what could be sustained for a week or more. Even though physicality was different in this place, with the beings here seemingly more robust, the same principle was being applied.
"You're the boss Brighteyes, lead on. Whenever we get to a suitable place, I'll set up camp and you can work on supper."
Ulric had noted his Elven companion's subtle amusement at his attempts for burnables the previous night. Not this time though. This time, the trees were normal trees. This time, his axe would taste victory unassisted by magical shenanigans and Ulric wouldn't go to bed with a mana hangover. And since he'd be taking care of the more rigorous chores like hauling water, gathering and splitting firewood, Brighteyes would get a chance to cooldown and rest.
For himself, this trip was similar to an overnight hunting expedition, of which he'd had several while stalking [Bladefern Elk] and the other elusive game back on the plateau. They moved rapidly, and with great awareness. Frequently, Ulric would have to double time carrying his overnight traveling gear to get ahead of the herd into an ambushing position for a clean bow shot. The natural toughness of the animals meant that only a good shot would do, less than a double lung or heart and lung shot would mean you just wasted hours and a perfectly good arrow, which the wounded deer or elk would carry off with it, sprinting for kilometers before succumbing to its wound or being taken by some other predator. Maybe the Watcher really had put him on that plateau to give him a "safe" place to grow harder. He nearly laughed aloud at that, considering the assault of the [Forest Lord], the near goring by [Bolt Deer], and the hilariously dangerous monsters that had rapidly infested the forest once said [Forest Lord] was gone.
Pushing that thought aside, he turned to the task of setting up camp, in a small clearing Brighteyes chose between a stand of the great trefoil oaks and one of the odd branching cedars, just a hundred meters or so off the trail. [Forest Lord] bone knife carved dead wood stakes like wire through clay. In a few short minutes the teepee tripod was set up, the hide cover draped, tied, and staked. Brighteyes was clearing a spot for fire lay and soon had a small crackling fire, to the side of which Ulric laid some small stacks of gathered limbs. A downed tree just off the side of the trail split easily under his axe and an hour after stopping for the day they had a reasonable traveler's camp assembled. Now they just needed some water.
Ulric found a straight enough dead standing as big as his wrist to cut down for a shoulder pole, his nose tickling at the strong cedar smell as his axe bit. On one side of the pole hung the [Steelwood] cookpot, on the other side was slung their, now empty, water bags. The odd unidentified metal trident he carried in his off-hand while the other held the carry pole. Brighteyes had pointed out a clear running spring, just a half kilometer before they'd stopped that would do nicely for fresh water and Ulric made his way leisurely towards it. The smell of the last of their fresh meat roasting filled the camp as he left, with the tantalizing spicy odor of some peppers his Elven guide had assured him would be delicious and picked gleefully on their way.
A few minutes walking and he made the spring. Cool water babbled in a narrow run, the spring having cut itself a channel through the loam of the woods to a rocky floor. Unlike the granite of Ulric's glade this substrate was something more akin to slate or limestone, loose stones rounded by water's wear. The first taste of spring water, cold from the ground but not frigid, was delicious.
Soon enough the containers were full and Ulric was putting a plug in their water bags.
He perked up at a strange sound back towards camp. A moment later he was running flat out, trident gripped with both hands, water forgotten, as his conscious brain synthesized the sounds the old lizard in the back of his head had already recognized as panicked screams. Brighteyes was yelling, in Elvish, and Ulric could now hear the grunts and cries of some animal along with it.
He burst into the small clearing and was immediately attacked by a chimp sized monkey holding a rock. It leapt and Ulric's trident intercepted it, overhanded thrust driving it down into the dirt before tines impaled its chest. A hard stomp on the head and pull freed the weapon and returned it to ready, while Ulric's eyes swept the camp, which was now in shambles.
Brighteyes had been backed against a tree, keeping the tree and camp fire between him and a dozen more of the small monkey like attackers, who were throwing stones at him, forcing him to dodge to one side or the other, with blood streaming down from above his eyebrow to show the threat they presented. Standing head and shoulders above these small brown monkeys was a far more muscular golden furred one, with deep red eyes and proud lower canines. The golden monkey was leading the attack and held a massive branch, thick as Ulric's thigh, as a club. Brighteyes had only his belt knife as a weapon, although a silver flame burning from a corpse near his feet indicated that he'd weapons enough to deal with the little monsters so long as they didn't overwhelm him.
For a second Ulric froze, uncertain what to do. He nearly felt a click in his mind as [Warrior's Instinct] took over. Calm now, except for mild anger at his own hesitation.
What would he do? Scatter them.
He charged the gold furred leader and swung the long trident at its head. It dodged back, colliding with a couple of its underlings, which were uncertain now that they were no longer just hunting a small prey but were pincered between a cornered smaller predator, and an aggressive larger one wielding a weapon.
Ulric used their hesitation. The monkeys were agile, and plentiful, but, other than their leader they were weak. He threw a hand forward.
[Stone wall]
A curving stone arch rose serpentine amongst the beasts, splitting them into three groups, three with the leader in the middle, five on the other side of the wall with Brighteyes and the campfire, and the other three isolated to the right. Best he could do on short notice, good luck Brighteyes.
The monkeys near the leader rushed him at a growling call from Goldie. Thrown rocks whistled in at impressive velocity and Ulric grunted when they bounced off his chest and shoulder but the armor did its part, mitigated the impacts. The distraction let them close though without being able to ready a solid thrust to pick one off. It was close quarters from there.
A leaping monkey took a stab through the guts when it jumped ahead of its pack. Ulric stepped back, turning, and whipped the reverse side of the trident into another's knee, felt it collapse, heard the joint tear apart, and switched his grip to accept the next one, coming low at his flank. The screaming monkey still impaled on his tines threw off his next thrust, scrabbling hands scratching at Ulric's eyes, too far by a few centimeters but making him flinch when he drew back to give its companion similar placement. He extended, missed, and the little monster jumped onto his head, biting and scratching.
Goldie was coming, the cripple too, dragging itself. Ulric released his double handed grip, one hand grabbed the screaming bag of fur and slung it away where it hit the ground and rolled to its feet. He was nearly brained by the two-handed chop of the leader but pushed the club off to the side with the trident tines, where it glanced off his forearm, still away from his body from dislodging the climber, and he winced inside at the instant loss of feeling in his fingers.
Good news was, the monkey he'd stabbed was now thoroughly dead, head mashed to pulp when he'd used it to deflect the attack. Bad news was, he wouldn't be holding the trident with two hands and it was too long to use one handed well enough to work against these fast little bastards.
He knew his arm was hurt, maybe broken. Pain would come later, numbness now. He needed to finish this, he heard fighting, yowling, and Elvish cursing from behind the stone, he had no idea where the three on the right were, they might be circling around behind him getting around the wall.
Time to fight dirty. Ulric stabbed at Goldie's face, dead monkey flopping, trying to score quickly while it pulled its buried club out of the damp litter. It pulled its head back out of reach, its posture shot from the overswing, which was the point of the feint, and Ulric stomped its leg breaking the shin cleanly.
He saw Climber coming from the corner of his eye and jumped back from a now howling Goldie who had fallen to the forest floor. The little bastard had a stone in its paws and Ulric was tired of swinging this dead monkey around so he threw the trident at it, rushing behind in its wake. Climber dodged the silver spear tips with a nimble side step and was buried under Ulric's tackle. The injured arm sent waves of pain from wrist to shoulder while he forearmed the little beast's chin back, holding its head against the dirt and pinning it with his body. His good right hand jerked his belt knife free and drove rapidly, pistoning the blade into its guts at an upwards angle.
The mewling of the creature told him his work was done after four or five stabs and he stood, only having taken a few seconds to slay his flanker and reassessed, gore running down his knife blade.
Goldie was now standing but refused to let go its club even with its leg bent horribly. Cripple was trying to rejoin Goldie crawling in a fast three-legged lope but in a straight line. That wouldn't be a problem on its own. The three unknowns were still unknown. Goldie still held that club and Ulric's left arm could attest to its dangerous strength. No chances, he needed this to be over and to get to Brighteyes. His foes were slow now, easy targets.
Ulric again raised his injured arm, this time reaching into his core, the thrumming hot/cold pulse building.
[Wind Blade]
[Wind Blade]
Goldie went down, head and left shoulder falling free from its trunk. Cripple caught the blade in the face and slid to a halt while its upper jaw and skull flew off into the bushes. Ulric had put most of what he had left into those shots, to guarantee the quick kill.
Ulric dashed around the [Stone wall] and saw carnage.
Brighteyes stood panting, looking down at a pile of corpses, knife arm soaked to the elbow in blood. He looked like he'd been chewed on, bites taken from pant legs, shirt sleeves, and a nasty one on the side of his face. Looking at the elf's fallen enemies, crowded between fire and stone where they had clearly been caught by Brighteyes' attack, Ulric made note that Brighteyes was not to be fucked with when he had a knife on him. The monkeys had been gutted, throats cut, stabbed through the eyes, knifed in the liver, lungs, heart, and one had been very clearly castrated. That silver fire burned ghostly on all the bodies.
Sounds in the bush indicated that the last three, isolated from their leader and hearing agony from where their erstwhile prey had been, had executed the better part of valor.
It couldn't have been but a few minutes from hearing Brighteyes yell to standing here now. It could have been an hour, by the way he felt. His whole body hummed with energy. His arm was numb but promised to make him miserable in the near future. Ulric took a deep, steadying breath to release his battle tension. [Warrior's Instinct] faded.
"Brighteyes, you, uh, you okay?" Ulric offered tentatively. Kid looked a little rocky.
The Elven lord to be raised his head and his eyes seemed to go out of focus a little before he shook it off.
"I am fine now Ulric, thank you. Our foes, they are routed?" He returned, shakily at first but evening out.
"Our foes are compost little buddy. Nothing to worry about now."
Their fireplace was in shambles, one of the monkeys had been tossed into it and had scattered the small collection of stones and wood into charred sticks and coals. The roasting meat had been tossed aside into the dirt. Their shelter was down, it support poles shattered, apparently by Goldie's club in the early part of the attack, while Ulric was gone. The water was still half a kilometer away back at the spring.
Ulric was scanning the clearing, looking for anything that might contradict his previous statement. A distant whisper, grown louder with the violence, a part of him that he felt was new was hoping something would contradict it.
*PING*
Head jerking Ulric was already turning before he realized that the source of the sound was inside his own head. He relaxed.
*PING*
Warriors Instinct**Override**Battle Rhythm
Another spastic twitch, before he could catch himself. Ulric sighed.
It seemed a small thing, the naming of names and titles, and, against the backdrop of the dangers of Varda, it is, but it brought down barriers between the two travelers and they continued their journey into the wilds with more ease than before. Kilometers stretched on and were then swiftly discarded as the pair made way through the forest that had previously been viewed from on high.
Leaving behind the [Ancient's Gate], Ulric couldn't help but notice the astounding difference in this biome compared to the one in which he'd been dropped. If he ever got to have words with that Watcher again he'd ask Queen Blessed Tits why he'd been brought into this world in maybe the most dangerous, most isolated place on the continent, far from civilization, and almost certain to run afoul of a super predator feared for its savagery for a millennium. Perhaps it had been a form of right of passage; the plateau had been a test to determine if he'd had the strength, cunning, and will to earn a place in this world. Whatever the reason, this place Brighteyes called the Deep Wood consisted of forest land more comparable to the forests of Earth. If those forests hadn't been destroyed hundreds of years prior by human agriculture and industry that is.
Here, a hundred species of tree rose up to form a far less oppressive, though still complete, canopy, now fractured by the gaps of fallen leaves. Some trees had gnarled bark some smooth as Aspen. Predominant were the ones that were rough like an oak, although the leaves held a shape more akin to a trefoil than the typical long series of lobes and sinuses, and rose a few hundred feet from the forest floor, with trunks at least fifteen meters in diameter at the largest. These were the tallest of the wood but far from the only large species. A completely different variety was far stranger, growing with a trunk some twenty meters around that rose thirty meters before branching wildly outward with coniferous, spruce like bows that reached another eighty or so meters up. Such occupied an incredible forest footprint but were scarce in relation to their more Earthly brethren.
Still others were akin to the maple, the sycamore, ash, the hemlock, growing between thirty and a hundred meters tall. The rich diversity of this wood was observed both in homogenous groves in their own particular places between hill and dale and in interspersed copses along the boundary zones in elevations or watershed. These lesser trees grew plentifully, able to flourish despite not reaching as tall as their giant cousins, a fact Ulric attributed to the sheer height of those, they grew so tall that they left a gap between themselves and the rest of the forest, through which sunlight could filter down.
Undergrowth was plentiful but not thick, the shade keeping it from creating the tangles Ulric had fought through on his normal hikes through underdeveloped forests. Instead, the bushes, shrubs, herbs, and fern like plants of the forest floor were like an accent and accompaniment to the greater orchestral arrangement of the trees. Through it all, there ran what had to be definite game trails running wide and clear to evidence their traffic.
In contrast to the enormous rolling hills of the plateau, which had almost certainly been created by the fall of ancient trees eons ago that had been buried under leaf falls for gods only knew how many centuries, this forest had a far more gentle terrain, sloping gradually downwards towards that distant river. There were regular streams running here and there, sometimes pooling to create soggy wetland forests, but no bogs, at least not that Ulric saw as they trekked; just easy water and smooth trails.
Autumn still held strong here, the air lacked the sharpness of the high altitude they'd left behind and many trees were still leafed, though it was clear that wouldn't remain true for long. Even so, the middling temperatures made for a reasonably comfortable hiking condition and Ulric marveled at the ease of their travel.
It would not be beyond reason that Brighteyes was taking them through the safest, most conservative way through the wood. He followed mostly the established game trails. Occasionally they would pause while he oriented himself or climbed a nearby tree, which feat was done with all the alacrity and grace you might anticipate from a wood elf according to the Earthly lore.
Ulric pondered these odd overlaps in what the humans of his old life had created myths around and how much these myths were influenced by possible connections between worlds. The Watcher had spoken of resonance, as if the two worlds existed somehow simultaneously like waves running through and past each other but, with the possibility of interaction. Ulric had suspicions that he hadn't been moved a distance during the Watcher's miracle, but rather through dimension. Not like he could ask though.
Attention to the signs of the forest, contemplation of his old world's "might haves", and ruminating on the nature of the connection between old world mythos and this world's reality kept Ulric's mind full while the only sounds that were made between the two travelers consisted of briefly whispered directions or their soft footfalls on beaten track. Travel was swift along these well-worn trails and Ulric was glad of the relative lightness of his pack, as well as for the hardening of his body that he'd undergone those previous months on the plateau.
The pair had accelerated gradually and were now rucking a pace that would have put a bunch of hardened Rangers to shame. That the recently convalescent elf could keep it for so long was highly questionable to Ulric, the kid's endurance stat didn't indicate this kind of stamina. At last, Brighteyes came to a halt and announced that their days journey was at its end. The kid was showing the signs of over exertion.
"We need stop now Ulric, ready camp for night. It is a few hours before dark and we need clear the game paths to avoid hunting animals and monsters. They follow the trails like we do but will not stray from easy path unless provoked or find sign of food in bush. We leave little track and will get far enough off way to slip their attention. Probably." This announcement was punctuated with deep breaths and sweat clearly soaked the youth's clothes.
Definitely pushing too hard, Ulric thought.
While Brighteyes described their course of action Ulric noticed that the stumbling and frequently broken speech of their early days had, over the last few weeks, become far smoother, which slightly shamed his own efforts in Elvish. In addition, now in this place, the youth spoke with greater confidence now that he was in his element. The kid seemed glad to be home and was naturally assuming a leadership role, product of habit in his homeland no doubt. In a way, Ulric was glad the baton had been passed and that he could become a more passive observer, even if that meant following the lead of what amounted to a child’s first road trip. Fuck it, we are all of us children in the eyes of the world.
This day's pace though indicated that Ulric would need to keep a hand on the reigns, to some extent. It was a common problem for young hikers on their first big excursions. They used themselves up on the first couple of days, pushing their bodies far beyond what could be sustained for a week or more. Even though physicality was different in this place, with the beings here seemingly more robust, the same principle was being applied.
"You're the boss Brighteyes, lead on. Whenever we get to a suitable place, I'll set up camp and you can work on supper."
Ulric had noted his Elven companion's subtle amusement at his attempts for burnables the previous night. Not this time though. This time, the trees were normal trees. This time, his axe would taste victory unassisted by magical shenanigans and Ulric wouldn't go to bed with a mana hangover. And since he'd be taking care of the more rigorous chores like hauling water, gathering and splitting firewood, Brighteyes would get a chance to cooldown and rest.
For himself, this trip was similar to an overnight hunting expedition, of which he'd had several while stalking [Bladefern Elk] and the other elusive game back on the plateau. They moved rapidly, and with great awareness. Frequently, Ulric would have to double time carrying his overnight traveling gear to get ahead of the herd into an ambushing position for a clean bow shot. The natural toughness of the animals meant that only a good shot would do, less than a double lung or heart and lung shot would mean you just wasted hours and a perfectly good arrow, which the wounded deer or elk would carry off with it, sprinting for kilometers before succumbing to its wound or being taken by some other predator. Maybe the Watcher really had put him on that plateau to give him a "safe" place to grow harder. He nearly laughed aloud at that, considering the assault of the [Forest Lord], the near goring by [Bolt Deer], and the hilariously dangerous monsters that had rapidly infested the forest once said [Forest Lord] was gone.
Pushing that thought aside, he turned to the task of setting up camp, in a small clearing Brighteyes chose between a stand of the great trefoil oaks and one of the odd branching cedars, just a hundred meters or so off the trail. [Forest Lord] bone knife carved dead wood stakes like wire through clay. In a few short minutes the teepee tripod was set up, the hide cover draped, tied, and staked. Brighteyes was clearing a spot for fire lay and soon had a small crackling fire, to the side of which Ulric laid some small stacks of gathered limbs. A downed tree just off the side of the trail split easily under his axe and an hour after stopping for the day they had a reasonable traveler's camp assembled. Now they just needed some water.
Ulric found a straight enough dead standing as big as his wrist to cut down for a shoulder pole, his nose tickling at the strong cedar smell as his axe bit. On one side of the pole hung the [Steelwood] cookpot, on the other side was slung their, now empty, water bags. The odd unidentified metal trident he carried in his off-hand while the other held the carry pole. Brighteyes had pointed out a clear running spring, just a half kilometer before they'd stopped that would do nicely for fresh water and Ulric made his way leisurely towards it. The smell of the last of their fresh meat roasting filled the camp as he left, with the tantalizing spicy odor of some peppers his Elven guide had assured him would be delicious and picked gleefully on their way.
A few minutes walking and he made the spring. Cool water babbled in a narrow run, the spring having cut itself a channel through the loam of the woods to a rocky floor. Unlike the granite of Ulric's glade this substrate was something more akin to slate or limestone, loose stones rounded by water's wear. The first taste of spring water, cold from the ground but not frigid, was delicious.
Soon enough the containers were full and Ulric was putting a plug in their water bags.
He perked up at a strange sound back towards camp. A moment later he was running flat out, trident gripped with both hands, water forgotten, as his conscious brain synthesized the sounds the old lizard in the back of his head had already recognized as panicked screams. Brighteyes was yelling, in Elvish, and Ulric could now hear the grunts and cries of some animal along with it.
He burst into the small clearing and was immediately attacked by a chimp sized monkey holding a rock. It leapt and Ulric's trident intercepted it, overhanded thrust driving it down into the dirt before tines impaled its chest. A hard stomp on the head and pull freed the weapon and returned it to ready, while Ulric's eyes swept the camp, which was now in shambles.
Brighteyes had been backed against a tree, keeping the tree and camp fire between him and a dozen more of the small monkey like attackers, who were throwing stones at him, forcing him to dodge to one side or the other, with blood streaming down from above his eyebrow to show the threat they presented. Standing head and shoulders above these small brown monkeys was a far more muscular golden furred one, with deep red eyes and proud lower canines. The golden monkey was leading the attack and held a massive branch, thick as Ulric's thigh, as a club. Brighteyes had only his belt knife as a weapon, although a silver flame burning from a corpse near his feet indicated that he'd weapons enough to deal with the little monsters so long as they didn't overwhelm him.
For a second Ulric froze, uncertain what to do. He nearly felt a click in his mind as [Warrior's Instinct] took over. Calm now, except for mild anger at his own hesitation.
What would he do? Scatter them.
He charged the gold furred leader and swung the long trident at its head. It dodged back, colliding with a couple of its underlings, which were uncertain now that they were no longer just hunting a small prey but were pincered between a cornered smaller predator, and an aggressive larger one wielding a weapon.
Ulric used their hesitation. The monkeys were agile, and plentiful, but, other than their leader they were weak. He threw a hand forward.
[Stone wall]
A curving stone arch rose serpentine amongst the beasts, splitting them into three groups, three with the leader in the middle, five on the other side of the wall with Brighteyes and the campfire, and the other three isolated to the right. Best he could do on short notice, good luck Brighteyes.
The monkeys near the leader rushed him at a growling call from Goldie. Thrown rocks whistled in at impressive velocity and Ulric grunted when they bounced off his chest and shoulder but the armor did its part, mitigated the impacts. The distraction let them close though without being able to ready a solid thrust to pick one off. It was close quarters from there.
A leaping monkey took a stab through the guts when it jumped ahead of its pack. Ulric stepped back, turning, and whipped the reverse side of the trident into another's knee, felt it collapse, heard the joint tear apart, and switched his grip to accept the next one, coming low at his flank. The screaming monkey still impaled on his tines threw off his next thrust, scrabbling hands scratching at Ulric's eyes, too far by a few centimeters but making him flinch when he drew back to give its companion similar placement. He extended, missed, and the little monster jumped onto his head, biting and scratching.
Goldie was coming, the cripple too, dragging itself. Ulric released his double handed grip, one hand grabbed the screaming bag of fur and slung it away where it hit the ground and rolled to its feet. He was nearly brained by the two-handed chop of the leader but pushed the club off to the side with the trident tines, where it glanced off his forearm, still away from his body from dislodging the climber, and he winced inside at the instant loss of feeling in his fingers.
Good news was, the monkey he'd stabbed was now thoroughly dead, head mashed to pulp when he'd used it to deflect the attack. Bad news was, he wouldn't be holding the trident with two hands and it was too long to use one handed well enough to work against these fast little bastards.
He knew his arm was hurt, maybe broken. Pain would come later, numbness now. He needed to finish this, he heard fighting, yowling, and Elvish cursing from behind the stone, he had no idea where the three on the right were, they might be circling around behind him getting around the wall.
Time to fight dirty. Ulric stabbed at Goldie's face, dead monkey flopping, trying to score quickly while it pulled its buried club out of the damp litter. It pulled its head back out of reach, its posture shot from the overswing, which was the point of the feint, and Ulric stomped its leg breaking the shin cleanly.
He saw Climber coming from the corner of his eye and jumped back from a now howling Goldie who had fallen to the forest floor. The little bastard had a stone in its paws and Ulric was tired of swinging this dead monkey around so he threw the trident at it, rushing behind in its wake. Climber dodged the silver spear tips with a nimble side step and was buried under Ulric's tackle. The injured arm sent waves of pain from wrist to shoulder while he forearmed the little beast's chin back, holding its head against the dirt and pinning it with his body. His good right hand jerked his belt knife free and drove rapidly, pistoning the blade into its guts at an upwards angle.
The mewling of the creature told him his work was done after four or five stabs and he stood, only having taken a few seconds to slay his flanker and reassessed, gore running down his knife blade.
Goldie was now standing but refused to let go its club even with its leg bent horribly. Cripple was trying to rejoin Goldie crawling in a fast three-legged lope but in a straight line. That wouldn't be a problem on its own. The three unknowns were still unknown. Goldie still held that club and Ulric's left arm could attest to its dangerous strength. No chances, he needed this to be over and to get to Brighteyes. His foes were slow now, easy targets.
Ulric again raised his injured arm, this time reaching into his core, the thrumming hot/cold pulse building.
[Wind Blade]
[Wind Blade]
Goldie went down, head and left shoulder falling free from its trunk. Cripple caught the blade in the face and slid to a halt while its upper jaw and skull flew off into the bushes. Ulric had put most of what he had left into those shots, to guarantee the quick kill.
Ulric dashed around the [Stone wall] and saw carnage.
Brighteyes stood panting, looking down at a pile of corpses, knife arm soaked to the elbow in blood. He looked like he'd been chewed on, bites taken from pant legs, shirt sleeves, and a nasty one on the side of his face. Looking at the elf's fallen enemies, crowded between fire and stone where they had clearly been caught by Brighteyes' attack, Ulric made note that Brighteyes was not to be fucked with when he had a knife on him. The monkeys had been gutted, throats cut, stabbed through the eyes, knifed in the liver, lungs, heart, and one had been very clearly castrated. That silver fire burned ghostly on all the bodies.
Sounds in the bush indicated that the last three, isolated from their leader and hearing agony from where their erstwhile prey had been, had executed the better part of valor.
It couldn't have been but a few minutes from hearing Brighteyes yell to standing here now. It could have been an hour, by the way he felt. His whole body hummed with energy. His arm was numb but promised to make him miserable in the near future. Ulric took a deep, steadying breath to release his battle tension. [Warrior's Instinct] faded.
"Brighteyes, you, uh, you okay?" Ulric offered tentatively. Kid looked a little rocky.
The Elven lord to be raised his head and his eyes seemed to go out of focus a little before he shook it off.
"I am fine now Ulric, thank you. Our foes, they are routed?" He returned, shakily at first but evening out.
"Our foes are compost little buddy. Nothing to worry about now."
Their fireplace was in shambles, one of the monkeys had been tossed into it and had scattered the small collection of stones and wood into charred sticks and coals. The roasting meat had been tossed aside into the dirt. Their shelter was down, it support poles shattered, apparently by Goldie's club in the early part of the attack, while Ulric was gone. The water was still half a kilometer away back at the spring.
Ulric was scanning the clearing, looking for anything that might contradict his previous statement. A distant whisper, grown louder with the violence, a part of him that he felt was new was hoping something would contradict it.
*PING*
Head jerking Ulric was already turning before he realized that the source of the sound was inside his own head. He relaxed.
*PING*
Warriors Instinct**Override**Battle Rhythm
Another spastic twitch, before he could catch himself. Ulric sighed.
