[h3][center][color=crimson]Cyclone & Rtron[/color][/center][/h3] The Champion of the Dyun glanced back at the dozen remaining members of his tribe as they waited in the trees. They were weak, he knew. Starvation and near nonstop fighting (by day they fought against the Cimex and the humans, by night against the terrors the darkness spawned) had tired even the strongest of them. He also knew that they were one of the last tribes of their kind. Where once the Dyun had traversed the land in as many numbers as the humans, now there was barely enough to stave off the inevitable end of their race for a while longer. The humans had advanced, their weapons and armor soon outclassing the claws and skin of the Dyun. Their creator, Vestec, had abandoned them for the very humans they hated. The Champion hated the humans for simply existing. And he hated Vestec for elevating them to their position as his favored. But there was nothing he could do about. Nothing his tribe could do about it. All they could do was try to kill as many humans as possible before they were slain. With that in mind, The Champion stepped from the trees and let out a screech, sending a bolt of pure chaos energy towards the village on the mesa, his tribe waiting for the human response. All of the best warriors of the Strong Tribe were summoned by Ialu. They filed into his Mighty Hut, one by one, until there was hardly room for an ant between the men. Even then, there were many more waiting outside, not important (or timely) enough to have been allowed inside. In any case, they would hear the chieftain's news soon enough. As in for the chieftain, he merely sat in the back of the room, something concealed behind his back. When at last the room was filled to the brim and the men quieted, he rose to his feet. As soon as he was standing tall, he stooped down once more to grab an object. He held it high, and a wave of confusion and revlusion swept through the room: it was the severed head of a Dyun, and fresh enough to still have wet blood on its stump. "They attacked one of our hunting parties early this morning. They killed Boku the Hunter and then fled before the others could slay them all. Boku, our brother, lays dead." Anger surged through the room. Confusion as well, as the Strong Tribe hadn't seen the Dyun's ilk in many years, though evidently it would seem tht some of the beasts were still lurking in woods and hills. "What shall we do? What do we do when beasts invade our lands? When they strike down one of us?" asked Ialu, a mad look creeping into his eyes. "Repel the monsters!" cried out one hunter. "Slay them all!" answered another. "Strike back!" roared one. Ialu had grown to be a competent leader in most regards; however, in inciting violence and driving his men into a bloodthristy fervor, he was second to none. He had a way with war, his renown, his fortitude, and his hatred all pouring into any that would heed his words, overpowering their other senses and intoxicating them with an insatiable hunger for battle. "Yes, we shall strike back! Ready your spears and cutters; the hunt begins soon." Without another word, the men poured out of the hut like ants from their mound. They equipped the tribe's iconic armor of dragon scales and leather, found their spears, and also carried swords. The swords, or 'cutters' as the tribe called them, had been gifts from a strange metal being that had come to teach them metalworks. Of course, Ialu had banished the thing eventually, for it did not recognize the Mighty One and would not cease its ranting about some lesser god. Still, it had left behind the cutters, and the Strong Tribe had slowly began to adopt them as a replacement for their crude clubs. As Ialu and his warband assembled and began to march down the ramp, they saw the Dyun waiting for them in plain sight. Without a word, one of the creatures, a rather formidable looking one, raised some sort of cutter. This blade was not like theirs; it had a twisted look and even from where the men stood, they could feel that unholy cutter radiating an aura of destruction. Without warning, the one holding the cutter flung a bolt of some sort of vile and corrupted Wi. The blast of pure chaos flew straight towards the top of the village, colliding with the Mighty Hut and instantly engulfing it in fire. It then proceeded to richochet about from hut to hut, spreading fire, terror, rage, and [i]utter chaos[/i] throughout the entire village. Enraged, Ialu and his hunters charged their enemies with wild shouts. The Champion sent his tribe forward to challenge the human hunters, all thirty six of them. Needless to say, it was a short fight. Even if the Dyun had been able to pierce the dragon scale armor they were wearing, sheer numbers would have killed them. As it was, most were killed by the first human they met. Then the mob turned it's attention to The Champion, howling for his blood as they charged. The Dyun waited, letting himself savor the moment. It was not often one got to slay so many humans, after all. As the first human reached him, lifting his spear to impale the Dyun, the Champion struck. His sword cleaved through the dragon scale armor like butter, and the human fell in two halves. More chaos energy burst from the sword, killing the entire warband. The causes of death varied. Some were roasted, others exploded, some drove their own weapons through their skulls, while others still simply collapsed into dust. The Champion clicked and chittered to himself in joy, preparing to move onto the rest of the village, when he noticed that one human was still alive. With an angry snarl at the impossiblilty, another example of Vestec's abandonment to him, the Champion raised his blade once more, charged forwards, and stabbed at the human. One of the Dyun charged wildly at Ialu. He levelled its spear and ran at the thing as well, the dragon's tooth easily piercing its chest. The fight contineud for a few moments, the chieftain watching with sadistic glee as his tribe drew their cutters and easily cut down the ragged survivors of the initial spear charge. At last, it seemed that they were all slain. It had been over too soon; Ialu might have been growing soft, or his tribe too strong, for he had only claimed that one kill before all the rest of the Dyun had been felled. But then, in an instant, his entire warband was slain. One man suddenly eviscerated himself. Another exploded, another was engulfed in fire...Ialu could only watch in horror, his own body somehow unaffected by whatever hellish force had done this. The chieftain was utterly dumbstruck, for the first time in his entire existence. Paralyzed, he merely stood and watched as what must have been at least a quarter, if not a third, of his entire tribe's warriors fall to the ground. Suddenly, he saw motion in his peripheral vision. He turned and found himself eyed down by the one with the strange cutter. The monster charging alarmingly fast and moving to stab him, Ialu leapt to the side. [i]This one did it,[/i] Ialu thought. Suddenly shaking with rage, his mouth frothing, his eyes promising no mercy, he roared. Lowering his spear and gripping it with both hands, he lunged it forward to impale the Dyun champion as it wheeled back around to face its last enemy once more. The Champion hissed at Ialu, untold amounts of hatred clear in its beady eyes, deflecting Ialu's spear with his sword. The blade cut through the haft as easy as water, and then The Champion diagonally at Ialu's chest. A voice spoke in the human's mind, deep and rough as if used primarily to scream in rage or victory. [i]No advantages. Prove yourself worthy of being chieftain of my tribe. There will be two challenges in this fight, on equal terms. Beat this monster in skill and strength, or die a weakling.[/i] Ialu's head was privy to more voice than one. His own dark thoughts and rage, hissing at him like snakes and telling him to slowly and tortuously kill the wretch before him. Another voice, one that Ialu vaguely thought could be the Mighty One. The Mighty One had never spoken to him before, yet now was a poor moment. Ialu was beyond focussed. His own inner urges, the ones that had guided him his entire life, told him to block, stab, slash. It was those voices, not in his head so much as in his gut, that he obeyed like a slave. Having leapt backwards to avoid a slash to his chest, he drew his cutter out of its crude sheathe like lightning. Not one to allow a foe to charge and gain any momentum, he was then the one to leap back into the fray. Wildly swing flurry after flurry of blows, most only hacking through air as he was afraid to touch his sword against the Dyun's cursed blade. After what felt like an eternity but had only been perhaps ten seconds, Ialu found a savage swipe coming straight for his throat. Awkwardly he raised his blade, the thing barely slowing the strike enough for him to duck beneath it, though in the process Ialu's swords had been knocked out of his grasp. Disarmed, he fell to his knees, as if to beg for mercy. Instead, he snatched up a massive dragon's tooth, the tip of what had been his spear. It was the very same tooth that he had plunged through the dragon's eye, the tooth that had made him legend amongst mortals. Like the fang of a viper, the tooth shot upwards. Ialu intended to plunge it straight into the Dyun's hamstring, maiming him and rolling to the side to avoid any counterattack as he did so. The Champion screeched in victory, swinging his sword down to kill the human. Then suddenly there was pain in his leg, and rather than cutting down the human in a fountain of blood, he was slamming his sword into the ground, sending up a small puff of dirt. Screeching in rage this time, the Champion tried to pull the blade out. But it stuck fast, and the Dyun let go, lest he get the tooth shoved in his spine as well. He faced the human, his claws clenching and unclenching as he waited for the inevitable attack. The voice urged in Ialu's head [i]Beat him to death with your fists. Make him suffer for what he has done. Prove your strength over this abomination.[/i] Lost in his battle trance, Ialu nonetheless discerned the word 'fists' amongst the words that had been thunderously echoing in his mind. He threw his tooth at his foe's chest, and while the Dyun's claws fumbled with it, Ialu swung a fist in a mighty blow that could have felled a tree. Unable to raise its claws in time to block it, the Dyun was struck in the head and sent violently onto the ground. Leaping onto his enemy, the Dyun sprawled on the ground, Ialu slammed his fist into its head, time and time again, until his knuckles cried out in utter agony. He looked down, and saw that he had reduced the pathetic beast's head into what could only be described as a crimson puddle. With one last cry of rage at the beast, for his fallen hunters, Ialu collapsed to the ground, laying on his side mere inches from the corpse of his mortal enemy. Sprawled all around were countless other mutilated men and Dyun, but he was too exhausted to think about them. These past few moments had been taxing, even for the seemingly invincible and unbreakable man that Ialu he thought he was. The voice spoke again. [i]You have done well, Chieftain of the Strong tribe. You have proven your strength to slay your enemies and your ability to rule without my help. You have proven you can survive my wrath, and resist the urging of your weaker members to worship lesser gods. You have but one final test before you. The Cimex gather for war. You must unite humanity to beat back their assault, but the southern tribes are too weak to be mobilized and turned into a strong army soon enough. However, there is a tribe to the north, growing in power. They know me by the name of 'Vestec'. They have conquered other tribes, and are preparing to invade the south. They are a nation of warriors, guided by my hand, ready to be lead by you. Simply slay their leader, and they will kneel before you. Of course, their leader has also proven himself. Only one of you can be my chosen. Create your own army, and challenge him, or die and let your tribe serve him. Only the Strongest will be able to beat back the Cimex. Prove yourself worthy of that title.[/i] The voice returned to Ialu's mind, and this time he heard it with a new and sharp clarity. His mind no longer on batle, the exhausted hero could only marvel at the weight and power behind each word: never before had the Mighty One deigned to speak to him! This was a glorious day indeed. More than ever, Ialu now felt that the Mighty One was a cruel and merciless master. He had sent the Eternal Winter and the Night of Terrors to test the tribe's resolve. He also had sent the Dyun and Cimex to test their strength. Now, he deprived his greatest follower of rest and already had another challenge in store. Still, for all the Mighty One's cruelty, Ialu could only be grateful. It was not kindness that built strength or paved the path to greatness. The voice had said that only the Strongest could defeat the Cimex, and so Ialu was already certain of his victory. His name was legend, his body unbreakable, his tribe strength incarnate and in name.