12-31-2017, 10:47 PM
Erik shifted the wampa hide in his grip as he approached the gates of Dwarfholm. Despite his best efforts to make it more manageable, it was still quite large and unwieldy. The guards at the gate said nothing, but Erik could have sworn he saw their eyes widen as they realised it was wampa fur in his arms. They opened the gate for him without a word, and he slipped inside. The path to Uther’s office was more or less burned into Erik’s brain at this point, and he quickly walked to it while snuffing his lantern and clipping it to his belt before letting himself it. Uther was in the middle of some paperwork when Erik came in, and looked up with a smile. “Ah, you’re back already. And not a scratch on you.” The dwarf stood up and took the wampa hide from Erik. “Well, if you’re mostly unharmed, I see no reason to delay your third task.” Erik shifted uncomfortably on the spot, unsure if he should ask the question on his lips. “Forgive me, but how many tasks do I have to do?” Uther gave Erik an understanding look. “I know it's tough, lad, but you’ve only got to do this task and then pass a test, then you're in.” Erik nodded. “Ok, what's my next task?” Uther’s expression turned serious suddenly as he began to speak. “You need to find and kill a troll, and then bring their tusk back for proof.” Erik’s heart sank. The little information he knew about trolls included the fact that they were both savage fighters and were barely slowed by wounds. “How does one fight a troll? Short of decapitating one I can't see way around their regeneration.” Uther replied with just one word. “Fire.”
Erik kneeled at the top of a small hill outside Dwarfholm. The sun was beginning to rise already, rays of light peeking through the clouds. Erik had summoned a whetstone with his omnillium, and was making sure Mageslayer was sharp before the battle. He wasn't sure if he actually needed to do this, the Omniverse seemed to keep everything in perfect condition as long as it has time to repair itself, but it was reassuring to sharpen his sword with his own two hands. Inspecting both sides of the blade, Erik was satisfied that it was sharp enough and began to make his way into the frozen fields. He felt the weight of his secret weapon, a bottle of grog, on his hip as he marched through the thick snow. At first, Erik had no idea where he would be able to find a troll. The fields were massive, and it could takes days to find one randomly. But then it hit him that there was almost certainly going to be trolls in the ruins of Delzoun, so that was where he was going to seek one out. After a while of walking through the snow, Erik crested a hill and the ruins came into view. Sure enough, a pair of trolls were talking near the entrance to the ruins. Erik flattened himself against the ground to watch them. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but wanted to keep an eye on them regardless. Finally, one troll turned and walked inside the ruins, and the other left to go about his business.
Erik waited until both trolls were out of sight before making his move, jumping to his feet and rushing to the entrance the troll had entered. He crouched down and peeked around the corner. The corridor was empty, but Erik could see the light of the troll’s torch from around the corner. The psychic slowly crept up to the end of the corridor and peered around it. The troll was facing the other direction, and appeared to be patrolling the ruins. Erik considered running up to the troll and stabbing him in the back, but hesitated. He forbade himself from attacking someone from behind, but did trolls count? Erik decided that it was better safe than sorry, and that he shouldn't attack the troll from behind. Erik stood up and rushed around the corridor, drawing his sword in the process. The troll spun around, his eyes wide as Erik plunged Mageslayer into his stomach. It wasn't an attack from behind, after all. The troll forced Erik off of him with a kick and held the wound with one hand as he drew his axe. “Whadda we have here?” The troll sneered. “A little human tryin’ ta run me through? Let me guess, you’re with the dwarves, aren't ya?” Erik rose to his feet, sword in hand, and looked the troll in the eyes. “My name is Erik Vrell, high priest Gal’skap, I am here to kill you.”
The troll grinned, and without a word, raised his axe over his head and brought it down, attempting to split Erik’s head like a melon. The psychic raised his sword and blocked the mighty blow, although the sheer strength of it jarred his arms. He turned the axe to the side, and adopted a defensive stance, Mageslayer ready to block any incoming strikes. As he blocked a powerful sweep at his side, Erik’s heart sank as he realised the wound on the troll’s stomach had already closed up. As Erik held the axe in place with his sword, the troll swung his torch towards Erik’s head. The psychic ducked below the strike, feeling the heat of the flames as it whizzed over his head. Erik pushed the troll back, creating some distance between the two. Purple mist crept from Erik’s left sleeve and came to rest in his hand, quickly forming into the shape of a sword. With a faint flash, the sword solidified, and Erik swung the blade around, feeling the familiar weightlessness of the psi weapon. The troll squinted at Erik, seemingly uneasy at what he was seeing. “What’s this witchcraft.” He muttered. “Watch your tongue!” Erik spat, his voice thick with venom. “This is not witchcraft, this is a psi construct, made with the power bestowed upon me by the mad God himself.” The troll almost rolled his eyes, the religious types were always so full of themselves. “Come on, then, priest boy. Show me what that shiny sword can do.”
Erik threw himself at the troll, determined to show the heathen the power of the gods. He swung Mageslayer towards the troll’s ribs, only for the sword to be caught by the axe. The troll repelled the blow, only for Erik to swing his psi blade at the same spot. The warrior held his weapon steady, wondering why the psychic would swing at the same spot twice. Horrified realisation struck him as the blade passed through his axe and bit into his side, followed by Mageslayer stabbing into his shoulder. The troll dropped his torch as he pulled back, rousing himself from his shock. Erik wasn’t finished, however, and pressed the attack on the troll. None of his blows were devastating, but his onslaught of slashes served to both push the troll back and threaten a death of a thousand cuts. The only trouble was that only a dozen or so slashes remained on the troll at a time, the older cuts healing as quickly as Erik could inflict new ones. He considered using his grog, but it would be wasted if the troll were to swat it out of the air. Erik had to wait until he was sure it would cover the troll, otherwise the fight would be over. A plan quickly formed in Erik’s mind as he continued his onslaught of slashes, and as the troll raised his axe in an attempt to defend himself, Erik put it into motion. As the axe raised to block Mageslayer, Erik manoeuvred the blade under the axe and hit it upwards, moving it enough for Erik to plunge his psi blade into the troll’s stomach and release it.
The warrior roared in pain and swung wildly, his movements becoming savage and bestial. Erik ducked under his flailing blows and gripped Mageslayer in both hands before impaling it into the troll, right next to the psi blade. Erik’s success was short lived, however, as the troll’s fist came crashing into him. The massive blow knocked the psychic to the ground, forcing the wind from his body. Erik wheezed as he tried to climb to his feet, before another blow smashed into his back. The troll had abandoned his axe, choosing to beat Erik down with his bare hands, even with both swords still in his stomach. Blow after blow rained down on Erik, who didn't have the troll’s regeneration to weather such an onslaught. Erik’s vision blurred for a moment, before focusing on a foot hurtling towards him. The troll kicked Erik with such force that he lifted off the ground before crashing back down a few feet away. Erik felt something hot near his face, and forced his eyes open to see the troll’s dropped torch. The maddened warrior was stomping towards the prone psychic, and Erik realised that this was his last chance.
Erik reached into his cloak and pulled out the bottle of grog he had been saving. Thankfully, he had landed on his right side. If he had landed on his left hip, the bottle would have smashed and it would have been over. The psychic wound his arm back and hurled the bottle at the troll. Blinded by anger, the warrior didn't even slow down as the bottle struck him, drenching him in alcohol and piercing him with glass. What did give him pause, however, was Erik picking up the torch. The psychic, despite the danger of the situation, couldn't resist the opportunity to be smug. “Do you know what an interesting characteristic of alcohol is?” Erik asked with a grin. The troll stopped in his track, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place in his brain. “It is, despite being a liquid, quite flammable.” Erik said, and with that, cast the torch at the troll. The warrior attempted to dodge the flames, but the pain and anger made him sluggish. The fire licked at the alcohol coating him, and the troll went up in flames like a Roman candle. The warrior shrieked in pain as he burned alive, the flames consuming him faster than his regeneration could heal him. The steel impaled into his stomach grew orange, then red, and the flames heated the blade, searing him from the inside as well as the out. The troll attempted to stumble to the entrance of the ruins, to snuff the flames out in the snow, but fell to his knees after a few steps.
The troll’s final cry grew weak, then silent, as he fell forward, both blades erupting from his back as their hilts were forced into his body. Erik sat motionless as he waited for the flames to burn themselves out, the heavy smell of burning troll flesh permeating the air. Although he wouldn't admit it, Erik felt sick to his stomach. He wasn't a human, but the troll was still sentient, and Erik had just sentenced him to one of the most painful deaths he could imagine. The psychic cursed himself for not just breaking the troll’s mind. It would have been cleaner and more humane. Finally, the last embers grew burned out, and Erik approached the blackened corpse in front of him. Erik kicked his body onto his back, and retrieved Mageslayer from his stomach before converting the psi blade back into violet mist. Erik inspected the troll’s tusks, making sure they weren't burned beyond recognition. They were blackened a little, but they were still recognisable as tusks. Erik raised Mageslayer and hacked the tusk from the troll’s head, before picking up the warm trophy and hooking it onto his belt.
Erik turned to leave, but hesitated. He turned around and saw the troll’s axe on the floor. For some reason, Erik felt compelled to take the weapon. The psychic felt somewhat melancholy as he picked up the weapon. “Mercy is a virtue.” Erik muttered to himself. It was something his tutors had taught him many years ago, but he had never really considered it. ‘Heathens, witches, beasts, monsters, none deserve to suffer.’ The elder priest had told him. ‘They’re not human.’ Erik had reasoned to himself. ‘Who can say they even feel pain?’ After hearing the screams of the troll, however, Erik realised how wrong he had been. Erik hefted the heavy axe and tied it to his belt as well, before dragging the troll’s body out into the snow. Erik did his best to dig through the ice, before placing the corpse in the makeshift grave. Erik whispered a prayer for his foe as he heaped the snow back into the grave. The psychic considered making a headstone, but he didn't even know the troll’s name. Erik began making his way back to Dwarfholm, but before he did he took one last look at the ruins, thinking about the battles that happened there daily. “A little mercy would go a long way in a place like this.” Erik muttered to himself as he started his hike back to Dwarfholm.
Erik kneeled at the top of a small hill outside Dwarfholm. The sun was beginning to rise already, rays of light peeking through the clouds. Erik had summoned a whetstone with his omnillium, and was making sure Mageslayer was sharp before the battle. He wasn't sure if he actually needed to do this, the Omniverse seemed to keep everything in perfect condition as long as it has time to repair itself, but it was reassuring to sharpen his sword with his own two hands. Inspecting both sides of the blade, Erik was satisfied that it was sharp enough and began to make his way into the frozen fields. He felt the weight of his secret weapon, a bottle of grog, on his hip as he marched through the thick snow. At first, Erik had no idea where he would be able to find a troll. The fields were massive, and it could takes days to find one randomly. But then it hit him that there was almost certainly going to be trolls in the ruins of Delzoun, so that was where he was going to seek one out. After a while of walking through the snow, Erik crested a hill and the ruins came into view. Sure enough, a pair of trolls were talking near the entrance to the ruins. Erik flattened himself against the ground to watch them. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but wanted to keep an eye on them regardless. Finally, one troll turned and walked inside the ruins, and the other left to go about his business.
Erik waited until both trolls were out of sight before making his move, jumping to his feet and rushing to the entrance the troll had entered. He crouched down and peeked around the corner. The corridor was empty, but Erik could see the light of the troll’s torch from around the corner. The psychic slowly crept up to the end of the corridor and peered around it. The troll was facing the other direction, and appeared to be patrolling the ruins. Erik considered running up to the troll and stabbing him in the back, but hesitated. He forbade himself from attacking someone from behind, but did trolls count? Erik decided that it was better safe than sorry, and that he shouldn't attack the troll from behind. Erik stood up and rushed around the corridor, drawing his sword in the process. The troll spun around, his eyes wide as Erik plunged Mageslayer into his stomach. It wasn't an attack from behind, after all. The troll forced Erik off of him with a kick and held the wound with one hand as he drew his axe. “Whadda we have here?” The troll sneered. “A little human tryin’ ta run me through? Let me guess, you’re with the dwarves, aren't ya?” Erik rose to his feet, sword in hand, and looked the troll in the eyes. “My name is Erik Vrell, high priest Gal’skap, I am here to kill you.”
The troll grinned, and without a word, raised his axe over his head and brought it down, attempting to split Erik’s head like a melon. The psychic raised his sword and blocked the mighty blow, although the sheer strength of it jarred his arms. He turned the axe to the side, and adopted a defensive stance, Mageslayer ready to block any incoming strikes. As he blocked a powerful sweep at his side, Erik’s heart sank as he realised the wound on the troll’s stomach had already closed up. As Erik held the axe in place with his sword, the troll swung his torch towards Erik’s head. The psychic ducked below the strike, feeling the heat of the flames as it whizzed over his head. Erik pushed the troll back, creating some distance between the two. Purple mist crept from Erik’s left sleeve and came to rest in his hand, quickly forming into the shape of a sword. With a faint flash, the sword solidified, and Erik swung the blade around, feeling the familiar weightlessness of the psi weapon. The troll squinted at Erik, seemingly uneasy at what he was seeing. “What’s this witchcraft.” He muttered. “Watch your tongue!” Erik spat, his voice thick with venom. “This is not witchcraft, this is a psi construct, made with the power bestowed upon me by the mad God himself.” The troll almost rolled his eyes, the religious types were always so full of themselves. “Come on, then, priest boy. Show me what that shiny sword can do.”
Erik threw himself at the troll, determined to show the heathen the power of the gods. He swung Mageslayer towards the troll’s ribs, only for the sword to be caught by the axe. The troll repelled the blow, only for Erik to swing his psi blade at the same spot. The warrior held his weapon steady, wondering why the psychic would swing at the same spot twice. Horrified realisation struck him as the blade passed through his axe and bit into his side, followed by Mageslayer stabbing into his shoulder. The troll dropped his torch as he pulled back, rousing himself from his shock. Erik wasn’t finished, however, and pressed the attack on the troll. None of his blows were devastating, but his onslaught of slashes served to both push the troll back and threaten a death of a thousand cuts. The only trouble was that only a dozen or so slashes remained on the troll at a time, the older cuts healing as quickly as Erik could inflict new ones. He considered using his grog, but it would be wasted if the troll were to swat it out of the air. Erik had to wait until he was sure it would cover the troll, otherwise the fight would be over. A plan quickly formed in Erik’s mind as he continued his onslaught of slashes, and as the troll raised his axe in an attempt to defend himself, Erik put it into motion. As the axe raised to block Mageslayer, Erik manoeuvred the blade under the axe and hit it upwards, moving it enough for Erik to plunge his psi blade into the troll’s stomach and release it.
The warrior roared in pain and swung wildly, his movements becoming savage and bestial. Erik ducked under his flailing blows and gripped Mageslayer in both hands before impaling it into the troll, right next to the psi blade. Erik’s success was short lived, however, as the troll’s fist came crashing into him. The massive blow knocked the psychic to the ground, forcing the wind from his body. Erik wheezed as he tried to climb to his feet, before another blow smashed into his back. The troll had abandoned his axe, choosing to beat Erik down with his bare hands, even with both swords still in his stomach. Blow after blow rained down on Erik, who didn't have the troll’s regeneration to weather such an onslaught. Erik’s vision blurred for a moment, before focusing on a foot hurtling towards him. The troll kicked Erik with such force that he lifted off the ground before crashing back down a few feet away. Erik felt something hot near his face, and forced his eyes open to see the troll’s dropped torch. The maddened warrior was stomping towards the prone psychic, and Erik realised that this was his last chance.
Erik reached into his cloak and pulled out the bottle of grog he had been saving. Thankfully, he had landed on his right side. If he had landed on his left hip, the bottle would have smashed and it would have been over. The psychic wound his arm back and hurled the bottle at the troll. Blinded by anger, the warrior didn't even slow down as the bottle struck him, drenching him in alcohol and piercing him with glass. What did give him pause, however, was Erik picking up the torch. The psychic, despite the danger of the situation, couldn't resist the opportunity to be smug. “Do you know what an interesting characteristic of alcohol is?” Erik asked with a grin. The troll stopped in his track, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place in his brain. “It is, despite being a liquid, quite flammable.” Erik said, and with that, cast the torch at the troll. The warrior attempted to dodge the flames, but the pain and anger made him sluggish. The fire licked at the alcohol coating him, and the troll went up in flames like a Roman candle. The warrior shrieked in pain as he burned alive, the flames consuming him faster than his regeneration could heal him. The steel impaled into his stomach grew orange, then red, and the flames heated the blade, searing him from the inside as well as the out. The troll attempted to stumble to the entrance of the ruins, to snuff the flames out in the snow, but fell to his knees after a few steps.
The troll’s final cry grew weak, then silent, as he fell forward, both blades erupting from his back as their hilts were forced into his body. Erik sat motionless as he waited for the flames to burn themselves out, the heavy smell of burning troll flesh permeating the air. Although he wouldn't admit it, Erik felt sick to his stomach. He wasn't a human, but the troll was still sentient, and Erik had just sentenced him to one of the most painful deaths he could imagine. The psychic cursed himself for not just breaking the troll’s mind. It would have been cleaner and more humane. Finally, the last embers grew burned out, and Erik approached the blackened corpse in front of him. Erik kicked his body onto his back, and retrieved Mageslayer from his stomach before converting the psi blade back into violet mist. Erik inspected the troll’s tusks, making sure they weren't burned beyond recognition. They were blackened a little, but they were still recognisable as tusks. Erik raised Mageslayer and hacked the tusk from the troll’s head, before picking up the warm trophy and hooking it onto his belt.
Erik turned to leave, but hesitated. He turned around and saw the troll’s axe on the floor. For some reason, Erik felt compelled to take the weapon. The psychic felt somewhat melancholy as he picked up the weapon. “Mercy is a virtue.” Erik muttered to himself. It was something his tutors had taught him many years ago, but he had never really considered it. ‘Heathens, witches, beasts, monsters, none deserve to suffer.’ The elder priest had told him. ‘They’re not human.’ Erik had reasoned to himself. ‘Who can say they even feel pain?’ After hearing the screams of the troll, however, Erik realised how wrong he had been. Erik hefted the heavy axe and tied it to his belt as well, before dragging the troll’s body out into the snow. Erik did his best to dig through the ice, before placing the corpse in the makeshift grave. Erik whispered a prayer for his foe as he heaped the snow back into the grave. The psychic considered making a headstone, but he didn't even know the troll’s name. Erik began making his way back to Dwarfholm, but before he did he took one last look at the ruins, thinking about the battles that happened there daily. “A little mercy would go a long way in a place like this.” Erik muttered to himself as he started his hike back to Dwarfholm.
Quote:2210 words + 5469 words = 7679/10000 words.
12144 characters with spaces + 32538 = 44682 characters with spaces.
9937 characters without spaces + 26671 = 36608 characters without spaces.
All according to google docs.
Troll tusk obtained!
*The emperor of mankind yeets erik into a sun*
[Today 08:03 pm] Erik Vrell : Bruh
[Today 08:03 pm] The emperor of mankind : don't worship gods
[Today 08:03 pm] Erik Vrell : Bruh
[Today 08:03 pm] The emperor of mankind : don't worship gods