The infantryman and falconer watched from atop the ridge as the two figures they looked down upon faced one another, ready to take action.
This was it, the moments before two beings clash yet bide their time to analyze and deduce the best course of action in dealing with such a threat. To Venneith he spied many vulnerabilities and many strengths within his opponent. He began with his strongest attributes, the size and strength of Voros being the most prominent. Venneith, being a relatively tall man, seemed to come just short of Voros’s chest; no doubt he could toss Venneith around if he ever became so unfortunate as to fall into his grasp. Venneith also noted how Voros wore no armor from his chest on up save for the large bracers he wore on each arm. His legs were well-padded but with the pike head of his poleaxe Venneith would be sure to pierce right through with ease. As to this giant’s capability in magics and Euths? One thing was for certain, and that was in the way he wielded Keuth, and the Xulls he might’ve developed to manipulate it, but even so Venneith wouldn’t doubt the giant’s ability in white nor dark magic regardless.
To Voros, the giant was sure to note the knight’s resilient armor as well as his notorious capability in Deuth. No doubt the knight would be faster and more agile. With the poleaxe the knight would have plenty of methods and means of attack. He knew Venneith to have all but fallen from the other three Euths, yet be proficient enough in Deuth to be reckoned with. However, Voros was far more confident in the four Euths that weren’t Deuth, but would Venneith know of that fifth old, extinct Euth?
Time would have to tell. For now, however, neither made a move as the storm raged on, their gazes fixed to each other, bound by a thread that could be cut only by the next flash of lightning that would pierce the sky. It was an unspoken agreement, a term of engagement. Neither would make their move until that term was fulfilled.
The time between then and the next lightning strike felt like a millennium yet lasted only a moment. Yet in that time Venneith had grounded his poleaxe, simply to reach into his side bag to pull out a wooden book bound by a single circular ring. Tied to this ring were the wooden tablets, strung to the ring by rather weak thread.
Voros immediately recognised this particular item to be nothing more than a collection of summoning tablets. Venneith mulled through the booklet only to tear one in particular from its binding before placing the booklet away. With the tablet in hand he hooked it to the buckle over his chest.
That was when Zeuth finally lashed out across the sky with a blinding blade of lightning that cut across the land. In that moment Venneith waved his Xulls in quick succession so that his hands could not be seen as he announced grandly, “Thirty Finger Index!”
He first crossed his fists, left hand over right, both thumbs extended. At once two Deuth releases had been called upon, formed and indexed. This was Venneith’s signature Xull and the first step of his Thirty Finger Index, aptly named Firstendary Index; either hand over hand was the Xull to bring focus upon his Euth whereas any combination of extended fingers and thumbs acted as the index where his Deuth would be stored until it was signaled to be released by the same combination of extended fingers.
Yet Venneith didn’t stop. He persisted on to the Secondary Index as he crossed his fists again, this time right hand over left with both his index fingers and thumbs jutting out before persisting to the thirdendary Index, crossing left fist over right with two fingers pointed and thumb extended from either hand. This he did over and over, indexing two Euths after another in rapid succession adding a single digit to each hand until all fingers and thumbs stuck out in his final fifthendary Index.
“Thirty Finger…” Venneith began as he rushed forward abandoning his poleaxe in the mud as he held out one fist, thumb extended and shouted. “…Fire Volly Release!”
With each thrust of his palm came the addition of another fingered digit as a single, condensed ball of flame shot from each palm, aimed straight for the upper half of the unarmored body of Voros. In all, ten fireballs were released, all within the one-and-a-half-second window since he officially announced his attack and pressed his advancement.
However, Voros hadn’t slackened for he weaved his Xulls with an astounding proficiency; all four fingers interlaced with both knuckles and palms forming a pyramid. He called upon Reuth to focus the water around him into small, compressed balls numbering ten in total, the number of fingers and thumbs that would extend, indexing each attack — the same number of Venneith’s fire volley. He released them, not only intercepting but breaking through Venneith’s fire volley and threatening the knight.
However, as Voros had suspected, the knight was exceedingly swift. He leaned back, using the slickness of the grass and dirt to slide forward as the water volley missed him, shooting entirely overhead. “Duel Palm Index!” Venneith announced as he then weaved four Xulls. The first was fist over fist, then pressing the backs of his hands together, before wrist over wrist and finally bringing the palms of his hands together to index his next attack as he pushed himself back to his feet, closing the distance between him and Voros fast.
Yet the giant had a countermeasure in mind. He planned to entrap Venneith within a Dirt Pit Release the moment the knight stepped within range. All Voros needed was to weave two Xulls before the knight came within striking distance of whatever he planned next.
The giant brought his hands together, intending to form his first Xull, yet before he could weave his next at the fast pace he worked, the giant saw the knight thrust both fists forward, each with a thumb extended, releasing a two-fireball volley. His aim was precise, the speed at which they traveled was much faster then the fireballs he released previously. As a result, Voros had nearly no opportunity to escape as one collided with his shoulder, scalding his skin, as the other missed, flying harmlessly past.
How had Venneith done that, Voros pondered, for that two fireball volley wasn’t the result of Venneith’s Duel Palm Index. No, it had to be a variant of the Thirty Finger Index, yet when had he had the chance to weave two Xulls? ‘Yes,’ Voros then thought as he at once understood. Venneith had weaved his Xull the moment he finished firing off his volley, only he never announced it, opting to instead weave a whole new Xull, announcing its name grandly in an effort to mislead Voros into anticipating a new attack.
It was an art of misdirection from the moment he announced the name of his attacks, to when he released the first volley at a velocity slower than what he was truly capable of, all to culminate in setting up his next attack. His Duel Palm Index. The very same index the knight now released as he bore down upon the injured and exposed Voros.
“Binary Core of the Triple Axis Rotation!” Venneith shouted as his palms became filled with a glistening crimson orb nearly four times larger than the previous fireballs. Burning orbital discs circled the equator of both orbs, to which the knight aptly announced, “Bladed Solar Rings Release!” Underhandedly swinging his right arm in a wide arc, Venneith let loose his first ringed fiery orb attack, letting it arc across the field to Voros a short distance away.
The giant could hear the buzz and the rings of the orbs Venneith held within his hand, indicating to him that they spun at very high speeds, displacing the air around them. But now he was gravely threatened, for no doubt one hit from that attack would be enough to cleave directly through his body, splitting him in two.
Unable to change the directional course of his body, Voros had no choice but to rip the earth from the ground without a Xull to guide his influence. His raised his hands and at once the earth below was torn away as both earth and stone became uplifted in an amorphous, misshapen pile. The attack collided with his hastily raised defence only to cleave directly through, scattering earth and stone all about as it was deflected past Voros, arcing impossibly high into the sky at intense speeds.
With one more bladed star reserved, Venneith had Voros exposed and off balance with no time for recovery. The knight prepared to strike with his left palm filled with the bright burning, spinning sphere of his att
ack, and with one final step he was within arm’s reach, ready to strike.
“Die!” was Venneith’s final word before striking Voros with all his might. His bladed star collided with Voros’s midsection, sure to obliterate it, cleaving through the point of impact with ease as it left Venneith’s grip, before curving left and upwards into the sky at high speeds before dispersing in a fiery vortex.
No living being could sustain such a devastating blow, for not only did the blade surrounding Venneith’s Binary core attack cleave, but the ball it orbited ripped, pulled and pushed in all directions at once while having a core temperature more fierce and heated then scalding magma. It was capable of dissolving bones in an instant as it both shredded and melted them at once.
‘A Knight of Fury’ they had called him. ‘Master of Flame’ they claimed. And yet such titles couldn’t be more underwhelming, for his wrath and hatred of all things unjust so far exceeded the perceptions of most men that his rage couldn’t be comprehended. One would think such malice would corrupt a man, but how Venneith dealt with such torment was his secret to bear, and the abandoners that followed Voros here to this valley to witness and soon suffer as Venneith cast his gaze to the crowd of traitors and heathens.
“Every last one,” Venneith muttered before he thumbed the scratch above his visor that the archer had made, daring to expose the glistening silver that lay beneath. His armor would need a new coat, a new coat of ash and blackened, burnt blood to cover what little had been exposed. They had made their choice, they stood behind Voros, accepted his sanction within the stone city he raised. Now they would reap the consequences and witness Voros’s head stuck upon the poleaxe of the Armor Burnt Knight, Venneith.
He looked to the floor, peering through the the rain of the storm, ready to find Voros lying dead before him, bisected. Yet when he did Venneith found no such corpse. He turned and swiveled his head, looking all around, yet the giant’s body was nowhere to be found.
“An Illusion!”
That was when the earth suddenly opened up beneath him, only for Voros to rise up and cling to the knight’s armor, holding Venneith high above his head. “You Forget Who I Was, Venneith!” Voros triumphantly shouted before throwing Venneith heavily to the ground. The impact was fierce and the knight was noticeably dazed as even Venneith cried out once his back made contact with the earth. “I was Meil Kuskurroff, leader of the Great Carthinnian nation, giant amongst men, who not only breached the Narrovinnian’s lands across the Xanthian sea, but laid waste to their provinces near and far, battling their pets with nothing but my hands.”
In an effort to defend himself, Venneith reached for the wooden tablet he had placed upon his chest, only for Voros to kick his arm away and pin his chest beneath his heavily armored foot.
“Yet in that time,” Voros continued as he knelt down upon the knight, lashing out with one punch of his armored fist, one which Venneith caught with both hands and struggled to resist. However, yanking his hand free, Voros broke through and pummeled the knight as he continued, “here were many faces and names forgotten. Bodies lost, limbs severed, torsos bisected and heads decapitated. Such a land was merciless and savage, such fate was not deserved by those who became lost, those young men…they were only children. Yet the Lord, your king, insisted we fight regardless. For many years I fought, Venneith!” the Giant told as he stood above him. “For many years I marched men to their deaths! For the twenty and one years I served my loyalty never faltered.” His shoulder withdrew as it readied for another strike. “Here’s to the next twenty and one years to come!”
Venneith had not the strength to defend himself as Voros struck his helmet once more before removing his pinning foot, only to take hold of Venneith’s shoulder as his thumb slipped under his helmet, taking him by the neck. With ease the giant hoisted the armored knight high into the air, hearing Venneith’s breathing become hoarse and raspy as Voros continued to tighten his grip on the knight’s throat.
Venneith had not the strength to break free or contend with the giant’s grasp. He had to break free by any means but a burn wouldn’t suffice lest it infuriate the giant more then cause harm. No, instead Venneith began to focus from within. He recalled a familiar entity, a particular blade, a knife to be exact. He remembered the way if filled his palm and how it cut through skin with ease. Such a feeling was so distinct that the same hilt began to fill Venneith’s palm as a dark, indistinct mist formed in his hand to take the shape of a curved knife.
Before Voros came to know Venneith’s intentions he was suddenly stabbed in the bow of his arm as Venneith plunged it deep, compelling the giant to cry out as his grip faltered, dropping the knight to the earth. Acting fast, Venneith dashed between Voros’s legs before backstabbing his knee, bringing Voros down to kneel before the knight in great pain. Thereupon Venneith leaped, taking the giant by the shoulder to hoist himself up before raising the knife in his hand ready to plunge it deep within the giant’s neck, killing him off for good.
The knight struck flesh, the blade sunk deep to the hilt, drawing blood almost immediately yet it wasn’t the sought-after lethal blow Venneith had intended. No, before him Voros had raised his hand, letting it take the blade completely as it pierced all the way through.
“You’re Causing Me A World of Trouble, Venneith,” Voros stated as he tore his hand away and ripped Venneith off his back only to throw him eastward to the pass in great agitation.
With the dark summoned knife no longer within the knight’s influence, it began to disintegrate before vanishing completely, leaving nothing but an open gash in Voros’s left hand.
In reply Venneith said, “I don’t quite fancy being killed off. Especially at the hands of a traitor of Carthol.”
“Kill you?” Voros questioned over the storm raging over the land. “Don’t mistake my intentions, Venneith. All I wanted was a messenger. A soul to testify to the people of Carthol that I, Voros Ohtoros, have risen to dismantle that which is corrupt! And you came! Venneith, the Armor Burnt Knight! I Couldn’t Ask For A Better Messenger From The Gods Themselves.”
“There will be a message to deliver,” Venneith began as he took the summoning tablet in his hand, releasing a small amount of white magic, disrupting the seal and breaking it entirely. “And it will be accompanied by your head.” Before the giant a light flashed as the physical pole and blade of the knight’s poleaxe began to manifest into existence before him, burning with light magic as the rod extended into existence before the blade took shape and sharpened until the teleportation seal was complete, leaving Venneith with his poleaxe in hand, ready to act.
Such arrogance, Voros thought. How could such a knight speak so mightily when he faced sure destruction? Perhaps it could be attributed to simply being naive and oblivious to the power he truly possessed. “I’ll give you something to deliver,” Voros said as he held his right arm out before him, gazing at his palm with interest. “How do you fancy the mark of Zeuth?”
‘Zeuth?’ the knight questioned silently. How could Voros, a man-giant, wield Zeuth without serious injury or death? Perhaps he had gone mad, for no living being on this earth could contain such power within the palms of their hands without everlasting injury, a striking mark resembling the arcing pattern of striking lightning bored within their skin, wrapped around their limbs and around their chest and even across their face. Lightning was far too volatile, yet here Voros threatened Venneith and the knight soon came to understand why.
Before the knight’s very eyes and among the great gales and rainfall of the storm did he witness Voros as his arm fell from his flesh, devolving into a beastly form not of man, but of talons and feathers as the arm took on the likeness of a beast long extinct: a Gryphon. Gryphons, through their loyalty to Gryalphaimy could wield lightning, for it was the talons of gryphons that could contain and control such power without injury or death.
Therein Voros’s threat became real as he weaved both talons and fingers and knuckles together forming a pyramid before grandly an
nouncing, “Beastly palm index of the volatile Euth!” Within his transfigured hand a blue light arced between each talon before Voros aimed his palm and muttered his final command. “Release!”
Before Venneith could react, weave a Xull to defend himself, raise his weapon, advance, evade or take action in any way, Voros unleashed Zeuth from his talons, letting the bolt arc across the land, striking out at anything in its path.
The power was unbearable, causing Venneith to fall to his knees as he lost all sense throughout his body. He was weakened and nearly incapacitated, yet in the final moment before he was struck, Venneith had seen something intervene between him and the bolt. A creature that found fear in nearly all things and strangers, a companion loyal only to Venneith, with dark yet white speckled hair upon her back, with a fair mane as well.
Falling to his hand, hardly able to keep himself on his feet, Venneith looked to his right only to see Astregra laying there, unmoving, sure to have been struck by the bolt of lightning. However, when Venneith looked there was no white marking to be seen upon her skin. There was none upon her shoulder, up her neck or down her spine. No, she was left completely unscathed by Voros’s attack, and lay there unconscious but not dead.
However, that did beg Venneith to ask who or what had actually been struck?
A question Venneith pondered over shortly before a cry, a whine roared out above the wind and rage of the storm, compelling Venneith to call out to the familiar sound, weakly muttering, “Nerr?”
“Protector!” Nerr cried out as he stumbled across the grass, his senses disoriented as he became dull to the world around him, unable to tell east from west or north from south as his chest burned with a sensation unlike any other. It was a sensation that bore into his skin, pierced his muscles and penetrated his bone. It was a sensation that creeped all through his body from his chest to his right forearm, up his neck and around his right eye, staining his scales a deathly bluish-white in an ecstatic, sharply branching pathway like a bolt of lightning.
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