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The Eastweald,
There were few places on the continent that were as inhospitable. Whereas the western forests of the north were filled to the brim with wildlife reaping the benefits of an ever prosperous vegetation, the forests of east Fenris clung to broken earth and mountainous terrain nearest to Haldr where smokestacks filled the sky with gray smog. Only the most nefarious of beasts remained, ones that preferred the taste or man flesh and would much rather pick off travelers than head west to feed off squirrels and starlets.
Alessia’s most recent hunt was posted on the bounty board in Blackpebble. Thirty silver pieces for the elimination of a manticore claiming the lives of hunters traveling the Eastruin Road. Manticores weren’t intimidating because of their speed or their power, but instead because of their venom and the lone primal magic they were capable of; petrification. There were old remedies to prevent the whole process, but none would be readily available out in the middle of the wilds.
This part of the Weald was covered in massive stone structures left from the dwarves before they settled into towns and villages. Each was marked with old runes in an eld language lost to time, not even the modern dwarves knew how to read or speak anymore. But the the tracks of Alessia’s prey were evident in this neck of the woods, deep cute, the acrid smell of poisoned animals decayed and hanging from the trees.
“Manticores are awful creatures.”
Alessia stared at the decayed animals, a feeling of disgust washing over her, showing on her face. The fate of dying slowly to an enemy you can’t fight physically was the least honorable thing she could think of. This beast did not devour its prey, killing for sport, something could’ve been overlooked if he had stuck to only other animals.
Each breath Alessia took was followed by a plume of cold air, her body acclimated to the freezing cold like most barbarians of the North. She took a step toward the direction the tracks pointed to, slow and steady past the next few trees. Her grip tightened upon her greataxe, held in one hand like most men hold swords. Her ears open to the world around her, every step deliberate, ready for a fight if it presents itself. Even for a woman her size, she was good at using the surroundings to give herself cover.
“Where are you, ya bastard?”
To Alessia’s benefit, the tracks of this manticore were small. Not juvenile, but this beast was certainly on the younger side of the spectrum which meant two things: firstly, that it would either have a very rudimentary degree of control over its natural magical capabilities, second that it would not have the physical strength of a fully grown manticore which can sometimes take an entire troop of mercenaries to fell.
There was a shift in the atmosphere the deeper this barbarian delved into Eastweald. Where once the chirping of birds and screeching of squirrels filled the air, it suddenly quieted leaving only frost-flies floating about with their faint white glow due to the trace amounts of aura held in their thorax. Stranger though was the stench that seemed to fade the deeper she got, the clearings had all but disappeared surrounding her with tightly bunched up patches of alpines with heavy patches of snow shaking with her heavy footfalls.
But that question would soon be answered as in the far off distance the shadow of a large flying beast could be seen tearing a stag in half with its forepaws and leaving the hind half of the deer for the dirt while carrying the antlered half up into the branches of a tree. Ever slowly did the bottom half of the stag begin turning a deep gray color, almost pewter, an evident sign of the manticore’s effects taking over the flesh of its prey.
Alessia’s eyes stayed focused upon the beast as it feasted, her muscles tightening as she stomped through the snow, barely reaching her knee. Most would find an issue walking in the deep snow but being a giant compared to those outside her clan, this did not hinder her. Stealth was never her forte, the loudest strategy being an asset to her style of combat. As she grew closer, stopping in a clearing near the trees, she reached down to grab a rather large rock. In one hand she lifted a rock about the size of your average dog, tossing it up and down like a child playing catch.
“FUCKING BASTARD! GET! DOWN! HERE!”
She cocked her arm back, and like a catapult the rock was launched at the manticore, the wind cutting as it flew. Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she got into stance, ready to fight a beast that was feared by the general public, a monster where one wrong move meant living the rest of your life in stone. Was there a hint of fear in her heart? Not at all. No, this was excitement flowing through her, adrenaline already pumping. In a low voice she spoke to herself, uttering a phrase passed down to her from her father.
“Rip and tear.”
The small boulder soared, snapping a few branches along the way until it made contact with the leftmost wing of the manticore. The leathery skin crumpled and crunched as blunt force ruptured the beast’s ligament, breaking bones and sinew, which in turn brought the manticore tumbling down to the forest floor. Snow flowed upward leaving a small exposed area where dead grass peaked through the ice, but still the creature rose up to its feet with glowing eyes, blazing green like emeralds staring at Alessia. The manticore charged, its scorpion stinger tail rising upward while its front paws rose upward as the mighty beast flew towards Alessia in a furious attempt to both rake claws against her flesh, and sting her with its poison.
In an instant, Alessia was barreling full speed at the creature, her axe held at her side, ready to cleave the beast in twine. Anyone else would consider Alessia’s plan foolish but she knew that had assessed the situation correctly. Most adventurers would fight this beast from afar, keeping sword length of distance at the very least. Most adventurers were not the fiercest woman in the land. She needed to be close to mitigate chances of it using petrification, using its hefty size against it.
As she got in range, she waited for the moment the beast’s tail was close enough to breathe on. Anyone else would’ve attempted to avoid the whole charge altogether but Alessia was made of sterner stuff, willing to feel the swipe of the claws in order to tear the poisonous tail from its body. Reaching out with her left hand to grab the tail before it could strike, her plan was to hold it in place, her muscles hardening and tightening visibly as she brought her axe down upon it with the force of a raging hurricane.
The claws find purchase in her skin, and the beats blackened claws puncture and its muscles tense to tear down through flesh; but giant skin is a bit thicker than that of a normal man. This inevitably sticks the manticore to Alessia and there’s a moment where the manticore pauses to try and peel its claws from her, and so too does that stinger come into the clutches of the mighty warrior’s grip.
Locked into place now, the manticore is left momentarily immobile and the crushing pressure of a great axe splitting bone, tissue, and flesh to carve a deep gash into the manticore’s back revealing the screen flesh and pure white ribs and even a glimpse of the creature’s spine. Bleeding profusely as it was, the dark green viscera quickly calcifies into pewter to close the wound, and using the force of Alesia’s weapon, the manticore drops low to the floor and forces itself several feet backward using all four of its legs. The beast was wounded, but still it had fight left in it, walking in a distant circle around Alessia in wait of wbat the barbarian may do.
She barely winced as the manticore dug its claws partly into her skin, only laughing flesh was cleaved from its very hide. The mood soured a bit as the beast calcified the wound, realizing this was going to be annoying.
“Guess I gotta rattle your brain.”
Alessia gave no pause to her assault, pushing forward as the beast reset itself. Taking three steps, she swung her axe at the snow before them, lifting it up in a pile. The wind blew in the direction of the manticore, catching the snow in the air, creating a makeshift smokescreen. From the fog, her axe cut through air like an arrow except with a noticeable spin, the blade aimed to plunge itself right into the beast’s face. That wasn’t all as Alessia was behind it, with a devious grin, poised to react to whatever the beast did, knowing that it couldn’t escape by flying currently. As she would close the distance, she’d reached out with her hand in a spear shape to gore the manticore’s right eye whilst he left hand reached for the axe if it was lodged in the beast’s head.
The veil of white powder concealed the gigantic silhouette of the giantblood berserker, and upon closing that distance did her hand puncture straight through the manticore’s eye. As she felt viscera squish between finger and knuckle, the hand would eventually reach the back of the beast’s socket with a diamond hard crack. And so too did that axe come down onto the manticore’s head, splitting into the top of the mighty creature’s head, but sticking in before it could drive deep into the manticore’s brain.
Now both of them were stuck to each other to some degree, and what made it worse was the fact that the viscera in the manticore’s eyesocket was rapidly beginning to calcify around her hand. The manticore roared out in pain and the stinger that Alessia once held down rose up quickly before beginning to lunge thrice at the massive barbarian in an effort to get some of its venom into the berserker and at least take her down with it.
“Until it is done.”
Alessia’s muscles began to bulge, rapidly expanding outward, giving a fuller, denser appearance. Her heartbeat louder and louder to the point that you hear it if there was dead silence. Her sclera took into a deep red color, irises slowly disappearing in the sea of red. Her breathing became haggard, each breath more visible, resembling a thick fog. Calcification of her skin started at her fingertips, her own ability, counteracting whatever the manticore had planned for her.
The rage of the barbarian flowed through her body, forcing her mind to act on pure rage, a new strength arising to meet the moment. She would use this rage to push forward, ignoring the manticore’s attempts to stop, smashing through its skull through the eye socket. Her target? The creature’s brain and there was nothing in this land that could stop her now. Its brain was coming out and this hunt would be complete.
The manticore flailed and writhed, its stinger punctured into the berserker’s shoulders and neck multiple times as pressure built up at the center monster of its head. Eventually a large crunch and pop would be heard, loud for Alessia, louder for the manticore as her hand felt the shards of skull fracture mixed within loose gray matter. At first the beast would pull and tug to get away from the barbarian, but slowly did those movements come to simple flops of its arms and legs— until at last the manticore went limp. Its heart did still beat, but the mind had been destroyed through the brute strength of the berserker’s hand.
Her rage continued on an everlasting earthquake, body shaking uncontrollably. The gooey mess of the brain matter and viscera dripped from her hand up to her forearm as she pulled her hand from the beast’s socket. Now she would begin the task of severing its head from its body, a disgusting sound of flesh tearing as she pulled her axe from the manticore’s face. Taking its head back for proof, and leaving its body for nature to take. That was the way of a hunter, a slayer of beasts, as those that came after would have a feast. Though for her own collection, she would take a single claw.
With the claw torn from the manticore’s mangled front paw, the barbarian’s duty was done, all that was left was the haggard journey back to Blackpebble. If she left now and kept a steady pace, she should be able to make it there by the following morning— but who’s to say if the weather permitted it. She definitely could’ve been wounded far worse than she was, but a slower safer trip meant that she would still get paid and wouldn’t need to stay in a cramped inn room on the morrow’s evening.
Camping closer to the road made sense, journeymen passing by might stare as they made their way through the woods and onto the long broken road to Blackpebble, but sometimes they’d offer aid or some sore rations as they finally came into view of the trade hub. It was very northern to give what you could to fellow northmen, ailing or wounded on the road, paying it forward in hope that one day when you were in hard times someone would do the same to you.
So back towards the way she entered the Weald she would go, heading west more so than when she did. Eventually as the morning sun barely spilled through the barren tree branches, the sound of rapid horse hooves against stone and soil could be heard. They were urgent, and a voice shouting could be heard from one of the horsemen upon them.
”There’s a caravan heading this way! We need to make sure there aren’t any northern soldiers that might be escorting Lady Fenris, go!”Alessia kept to herself, watching the soldiers on horseback. Normally she would keep to herself, knowing she needed to get back to town to turn in her hunt. As they proceeded to pass her, she heard a very curious conversation, one that peaked every form of interest she possessed. They mentioned Lady Fenris, a noble name and the name of the region itself, not only that but there was also mention of northern knights. These armor clad men did not sound as though they were going to help, and Alessia was one that was fiercely loyal to the North and its ideals.
A sadistic smile took form on her face, the idea there were fools invading her home, to hurt someone of the north. These fools needed to be stupid or the mage king’s men which meant they were always the former. She then decided to follow them, using her large stature to keep an eye on them where most would have lost sight of them.
The knights did not notice the barbarian as they clicked their heels along the sides of their tired horses ribs, nor did they notice the wear and tear of the horses already earned from wherever they procured them. The group of four simply narrowed in on the distant group slowly making their way east along the road, and passing them with an inspection to prevent themselves from being outed— they were acting to protect their identities from being revealed, but that wouldn’t seem to go down so easily for them.
There wasn’t all that much time to pass before blades were being drawn, and whoever was sitting in the cart had leaped out of it before diving into a snowbank to disappear from sight. A wolf that traveled with the distant strangers jumped into action first, biting the bald-headed knight in the distance which seemed to spark the violence to reach a fever point and suddenly the man that shouted nearby was performing magic. In the distance Alessia could see the man create a metallic sphere that floated up above, and around him each of the knights would take a defensive position as the rest readied themselves for combat.
“Mage Knight.”
As she grew closer to the knights, she could make the mage’s longsword, the crest upon it providing damning evidence of the affiliation with the Mage King. Even in this cold landscape, heat began to rise in Alessia’s body, a rage coming over her, instincts nearly taking full control. Anyone associated with the scum king needed to fade from this world, their lives forfeit. Each step shook the very earth beneath her feet, progressing closer and closer to the knights in their defensive position, before finally breaking out into a full sprint.
A roar echoed through the air, overtaking the sounds of the battle. These bastards were to face her wrath for their crimes against the people, their formation being an affront to anyone that called themselves a warrior. She needed to test the defense of these so-called knights. Barrelling in like a bat out of hell, Alessia threw her shoulder into the first knight she saw, caring not for any attack they may present, aiming to slam into their chest and send them flying backward.
She launched forward like a battering ram, icy wind crackling against her hot skin as the formation of defensive knights was broken by a lady Goliath making her presence known with the quaking of her boots against earth and snow. The barbarian’s shoulder made contact with Goldtooth, and with the whole of her weight it was impossible for the man not to have been rocked by the shoulder against the metal of his armor. The northern iron only dented slightly, a testament to its construction, but the force behind it exhumed all the air from the Goldtoothed knight’s lungs and too did he slide away from the cart— several feet away from the formation of remaining knights.
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