01-01-2018, 11:19 PM
Erik’s was bruised and exhausted as he made his way back to Dwarfholm. He was so close to reaching his goal, but he was getting weary of the tasks. Erik decided that he wasn't ready to go back to Dwarfholm yet, and made his way towards a nearby rock peeking out of the snow. He swept the snow off of the stone and took a seat on top of it. The psychic rested for a while, before deciding to have something to eat. As a prime, Erik didn't technically need to eat, but it both sped up the process of restoring energy and felt right on a subconscious level. It wasn't natural to go for extended periods of time without eating. Erik produced his orb of omnillium and considered what food he should summon. After a moment, he decided on a leg of turkey. The shimmering substance morphed and stretched into the shape of the leg, and then retracted, leaving the warm food in its place. Erik hungrily devoured the piece of turkey, realising that this was the first piece of food he had eaten in a long time. When Erik was finished, he tossed the bone into the snow and pushed off the rock. The psychic’s body was still sore from his beating, but it was steadily getting better. Erik began his march back to Dwarfholm, hoping that his bruises would be mostly healed when he got back. He didn't know what the ‘test’ would be, but he had no doubt that it would be physical.
Erik entered the main cavern of Dwarfholm and made his way to Uther’s office once more. He moved around a small group of dwarves in front of the building and entered. Uther looked up at him with a smile. “Ah, there’s the young champion. Have you got the tusk?” Erik nodded and fumbled for his belt. Untying the blackened tusk from his belt, the psychic placed it on the desk in front of Uther. The dwarf raised an eyebrow at the state of the tusk. “What did you do, throw him into a volcano?” “I covered him in grog and lit it.” Erik replied, struggling to meet Uther’s gaze. To his surprise, the dwarf chuckled. “Well, that savage got what was coming to him.” Erik almost opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it. The feud between dwarves and trolls wasn't something he was going to touch, not anytime soon at least. “I see you have a troll axe.” The dwarf said. “Another trophy?” Erik had forgotten about the axe, and simply nodded, not wanting to mention his regret for burning the troll. “How’s your injuries?” Uther asked, placing the tusk in his desk. Erik’s body was still a little sore, but his bruises were almost faded. “I’m doing fine. Just a few bruises.” The psychic replied, mostly telling the truth. “Are you ready for your test?” Uther inquired. “I won't lie to you, it won't be easy.” Erik considered the question for a moment, before nodding. “I'm ready.” Uther stood up from behind his desk and moved for the door. “Follow me.”
Erik followed Uther through Dwarfholm, going deeper and deeper into the city. Finally, they came to a large building and Uther led Erik inside. There was a single large room, with a large ring in the centre. A small group of dwarves sat outside the ring and on each side of the ring was a weapon rack stocked with wooden training weapons. “Who are those dwarves?” Erik asked Uther quietly. “They're Mithril Hall officials, here to watch your fight.” “My fight?” “Aye, you're going to be sparring with a dwarf champion.” Erik felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Could he beat a dwarven champion? Erik stood in the doorway for a moment, before Uther urged him forward. “Go on, lad, get into the ring.” Erik hesitated, then walked up to the weapon rack on his side of the ring. He considered his choices, before deciding on a short sword. Erik swung the sword around, testing its weight and feel. Despite being made of wood, the training weapon was very well balanced. Erik took his place in the ring, anxiously waiting for his opponent. Uther took his place next to the ring, and addressed everyone in the fighting hall. “Greetings, Mithril Hall representatives. We are gathered here tonight to judge candidate Erik’s attempt to enter the hall. Will his opponent, Davras, son of Darvok, please step forward.” Erik's eyes widened as the dwarf he had met at the start of his journey stood up and made his way to the ring. Davras approached the weapon rack and grabbed an axe without hesitation. The dwarf swung the axe at the air as he walked to the ring with a grin on his face. “Surprised, lad? I knew you wouldn't disappoint us, and I made sure I'd be the one to test you.” “I will admit, it was unexpected.” Erik said. “So, we fight until one of us cannot fight anymore?” “That's right, lad. Either you surrender, or fight until you drop.”
“May the bout begin!” Uther shouted, signalling for the fight to start. Erik and Davras both entered fighting stances as they faced off on other sides of the ring. The two slowly made their way towards each other, neither wanting to make the first strike. Finally, Erik decided to make the first move. He feinted his sword towards Davras’ shoulder, before swinging at the dwarf’s hip. Davras moved his axe to block the strike, but was too slow to block the real attack. Despite the solid hit, the dwarf didn't even flinch when Erik’s sword struck him. When Erik’s arm was still extended towards him, Davras took the chance to strike back at the psychic, striking at Erik’s shoulder with his axe. Erik pulled back as the dwarf swung, but still took a glancing blow. Although it wasn't a solid blow, Erik was still surprised by the sheer strength of it. The dwarven warrior was obviously both tough and strong, but Erik had the advantage when it came to speed. The two moved apart and circled around each other. Erik knew that he couldn't afford to fight Davras blow for blow, but instead had to defend himself and land hits when he could do so safely.
The dwarf moved to strike at Erik, swinging his axe in a wide blow to the side. Erik moved to parry the strike, but the strength behind it was too much for him to stop. Instead, Erik turned the blow downwards and struck at Davras’ arm before he could raise the weapon again. Davras raised his weapon and swung it at the Erik, however the psychic had already moved away from the dwarf’s range. The two continued to play cat and mouse, with Erik keeping himself just out of harm’s way. Davras, on the other hand, was visibly getting frustrated at the psychic’s ability to elude him. The dwarf swung his axe in a downward swing towards Erik’s shoulder. When Erik turned the strike to the side, he moved to strike at the dwarf only to realise the axe was coming at his again. The heavy strike crashed into Erik's lower arm, hitting him so hard he almost lost his footing. Davras wasn't finished, however, and swung his axe with newly discovered fervour, forcing Erik back with each blow. The psychic barely managed to dodge or turn each swing, and every second or third strike grazed him, and sometimes hit home. The dwarf’s axe had become a wooden hurricane of blows, raining strike after strike upon the psychic. Erik was beginning to pant as the onslaught continued, his body straining under the constant movement. Davras was not doing any better, however, his heavy breathing audible from across the ring. The dwarf raised his axe and brought it down towards Erik, the axe hurtling towards the psychic’s shoulder. Erik raised his sword, holding it with one hand on the hilt and one hand on the blade, and blocked the mighty blow. To his relief, fatigue had taken its toll on Davras harder than it had on Erik. The strike was much weaker than the dwarf’s swings had been at the beginning of the fight.
Erik pushed the dwarf back with a grunt, and the pair stood and caught their breath for a moment. After he had caught his breath, Erik decided to try and press the attack on the tired dwarf. Erik rushed the dwarf and feinted towards his right shoulder, before aiming the real swing towards the left shoulder. Davras’ tired body was too sluggish to block the swing, and Erik landed the blow before following up with a strike to the left hip. Erik pulled back, dodging Davras’ counter-strike, although not without difficulty, and began circling around his opponent. Erik was better off than Davras, but he was still exhausted and couldn't push himself too hard, or last too much longer. Erik decided that he had to end the fight soon, and moved towards Davras once more. Erik struck towards the dwarf’s upper arm, and then swung at his stomach before he could react. Davras stumbled backwards as the wind was knocked from him, and Erik slid in, determined to deliver the final blow. Erik swung his sword upwards, catching Davras’ axe and knocking it from his weakened grip. The axe landed a few metres away from the pair, and Erik aimed his sword at the disarmed dwarf. Davras stood there for a moment, puffing as he glanced from Erik, to his axe, and back, before he sighed and let a grin spread across his face. “Alright, you've won, lad.” The dwarf turned towards the representatives and raised his arms. “I concede.” A wave of mumbling spread between the judges, and Uther took his place at the ringside once more. “The challenger, Erik, has prevailed!”
Erik took a seat on a bench at the side of the ring, trying to control his heavy breathing. Davras came over to the bench and sat next to Erik, his breathing just as heavy as the psychic’s. “You’re pretty good, lad.” The dwarf said between breaths. “Where did you learn to fight?” Erik smiled at the compliment despite his exhaustion. “I've been learning since I could lift a sword. My father got me the best tutors from miles around.” “Well, I'd say it paid off.” “You're quite talented with an axe yourself.” Erik said. “Where did you learn?” “I'm self-taught.” Erik raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. “Self-taught? By the gods, how did you do that?” Davras laughed at the psychic’s surprise. “I hid an axe under my bed, and left every night after my parents were asleep to practise against dummies or trees. When I finally got caught, I could already beat my old man in a duel.” Both the psychic and the dwarf chuckled at the story. “You've left a bloody big bruise on my belly.” Davras laughed as he lifted his shirt, displaying the mottled purple mark on his stomach. “I didn't exactly get out unscathed.” Erik replied, lifting his sleeve to show an array of bruises on his arm. “Sorry about focusing your arm, it was the highest target I could hit.” Both fighters laughed again as Uther walked over to the pair.
“Well, lad, the verdict has passed. The judges have decided that you’re fit to enter Mithril Hall.” Erik cracked a grin at the dwarf. The fruits of his labour were laid in front of him. The tasks were hard, but he had faced all the challenges before him and succeeded. Uther motioned for Erik to follow him. “Come with me, lad, I've got something for you.” Erik stood up and followed the dwarf out of the hall and into the main cavern of Dwarfholm. The pair made their way through the crowds of Dwarfholm, before arriving at Uther’s office. Erik gave Uther a puzzled look, but the dwarf just smiled at the psychic and opened the door. When they entered, Uther sat Erik in the chair in front of his desk and reach inside. The dwarf pulled a box out of the desk and handed it to Erik. “A welcoming gift from Mithril Hall.” Uther said, grinning at the psychic. Erik opened the box and pulled out a beautifully crafted axe. It’s steel edge was sharpened to a point beyond what Erik thought was possible, and the head was decorated with with an ornate, twisting design, slightly Celtic in nature. The grip was two feet long, which Erik guess was large for a dwarf but was a perfectly sized hand axe for a human.
The psychic held the axe up to the light to inspect it, and noticed a blue sheen to the weapon. Erik turned to Uther, with a faint smile on his face. “Is this cobalt?” The dwarf nodded, reciprocating Erik’s smile. “Aye, you brought back so much we decided to use some of it to make your weapon. I thought it would be a good reminder of how far you've come.” Erik stood up and swung the weapon around, testing its weight. “Davras told us about the measurement of your sword, so hopefully it should be well balanced.” Uther said as he watched Erik test the weapon. Sure enough, Erik could use the axe just as well as he handled Mageslayer. The psychic sat back in his chair, struggling to come up with the words to convey his gratitude. “Thank you for all the support.” Erik said. “I don't think I could have made it through without you.” Uther smiled, bowing his head humbly. “Don't mention it, lad.” Erik stood up, and moved for the door. “I'd better get going, I've got work to attend to.” Uther stood up, and followed Erik. “Aw, don't you have time for just a few drinks?” Erik paused, considering the offer. “Ok, just a few drinks.”
Erik entered the main cavern of Dwarfholm and made his way to Uther’s office once more. He moved around a small group of dwarves in front of the building and entered. Uther looked up at him with a smile. “Ah, there’s the young champion. Have you got the tusk?” Erik nodded and fumbled for his belt. Untying the blackened tusk from his belt, the psychic placed it on the desk in front of Uther. The dwarf raised an eyebrow at the state of the tusk. “What did you do, throw him into a volcano?” “I covered him in grog and lit it.” Erik replied, struggling to meet Uther’s gaze. To his surprise, the dwarf chuckled. “Well, that savage got what was coming to him.” Erik almost opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it. The feud between dwarves and trolls wasn't something he was going to touch, not anytime soon at least. “I see you have a troll axe.” The dwarf said. “Another trophy?” Erik had forgotten about the axe, and simply nodded, not wanting to mention his regret for burning the troll. “How’s your injuries?” Uther asked, placing the tusk in his desk. Erik’s body was still a little sore, but his bruises were almost faded. “I’m doing fine. Just a few bruises.” The psychic replied, mostly telling the truth. “Are you ready for your test?” Uther inquired. “I won't lie to you, it won't be easy.” Erik considered the question for a moment, before nodding. “I'm ready.” Uther stood up from behind his desk and moved for the door. “Follow me.”
Erik followed Uther through Dwarfholm, going deeper and deeper into the city. Finally, they came to a large building and Uther led Erik inside. There was a single large room, with a large ring in the centre. A small group of dwarves sat outside the ring and on each side of the ring was a weapon rack stocked with wooden training weapons. “Who are those dwarves?” Erik asked Uther quietly. “They're Mithril Hall officials, here to watch your fight.” “My fight?” “Aye, you're going to be sparring with a dwarf champion.” Erik felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Could he beat a dwarven champion? Erik stood in the doorway for a moment, before Uther urged him forward. “Go on, lad, get into the ring.” Erik hesitated, then walked up to the weapon rack on his side of the ring. He considered his choices, before deciding on a short sword. Erik swung the sword around, testing its weight and feel. Despite being made of wood, the training weapon was very well balanced. Erik took his place in the ring, anxiously waiting for his opponent. Uther took his place next to the ring, and addressed everyone in the fighting hall. “Greetings, Mithril Hall representatives. We are gathered here tonight to judge candidate Erik’s attempt to enter the hall. Will his opponent, Davras, son of Darvok, please step forward.” Erik's eyes widened as the dwarf he had met at the start of his journey stood up and made his way to the ring. Davras approached the weapon rack and grabbed an axe without hesitation. The dwarf swung the axe at the air as he walked to the ring with a grin on his face. “Surprised, lad? I knew you wouldn't disappoint us, and I made sure I'd be the one to test you.” “I will admit, it was unexpected.” Erik said. “So, we fight until one of us cannot fight anymore?” “That's right, lad. Either you surrender, or fight until you drop.”
“May the bout begin!” Uther shouted, signalling for the fight to start. Erik and Davras both entered fighting stances as they faced off on other sides of the ring. The two slowly made their way towards each other, neither wanting to make the first strike. Finally, Erik decided to make the first move. He feinted his sword towards Davras’ shoulder, before swinging at the dwarf’s hip. Davras moved his axe to block the strike, but was too slow to block the real attack. Despite the solid hit, the dwarf didn't even flinch when Erik’s sword struck him. When Erik’s arm was still extended towards him, Davras took the chance to strike back at the psychic, striking at Erik’s shoulder with his axe. Erik pulled back as the dwarf swung, but still took a glancing blow. Although it wasn't a solid blow, Erik was still surprised by the sheer strength of it. The dwarven warrior was obviously both tough and strong, but Erik had the advantage when it came to speed. The two moved apart and circled around each other. Erik knew that he couldn't afford to fight Davras blow for blow, but instead had to defend himself and land hits when he could do so safely.
The dwarf moved to strike at Erik, swinging his axe in a wide blow to the side. Erik moved to parry the strike, but the strength behind it was too much for him to stop. Instead, Erik turned the blow downwards and struck at Davras’ arm before he could raise the weapon again. Davras raised his weapon and swung it at the Erik, however the psychic had already moved away from the dwarf’s range. The two continued to play cat and mouse, with Erik keeping himself just out of harm’s way. Davras, on the other hand, was visibly getting frustrated at the psychic’s ability to elude him. The dwarf swung his axe in a downward swing towards Erik’s shoulder. When Erik turned the strike to the side, he moved to strike at the dwarf only to realise the axe was coming at his again. The heavy strike crashed into Erik's lower arm, hitting him so hard he almost lost his footing. Davras wasn't finished, however, and swung his axe with newly discovered fervour, forcing Erik back with each blow. The psychic barely managed to dodge or turn each swing, and every second or third strike grazed him, and sometimes hit home. The dwarf’s axe had become a wooden hurricane of blows, raining strike after strike upon the psychic. Erik was beginning to pant as the onslaught continued, his body straining under the constant movement. Davras was not doing any better, however, his heavy breathing audible from across the ring. The dwarf raised his axe and brought it down towards Erik, the axe hurtling towards the psychic’s shoulder. Erik raised his sword, holding it with one hand on the hilt and one hand on the blade, and blocked the mighty blow. To his relief, fatigue had taken its toll on Davras harder than it had on Erik. The strike was much weaker than the dwarf’s swings had been at the beginning of the fight.
Erik pushed the dwarf back with a grunt, and the pair stood and caught their breath for a moment. After he had caught his breath, Erik decided to try and press the attack on the tired dwarf. Erik rushed the dwarf and feinted towards his right shoulder, before aiming the real swing towards the left shoulder. Davras’ tired body was too sluggish to block the swing, and Erik landed the blow before following up with a strike to the left hip. Erik pulled back, dodging Davras’ counter-strike, although not without difficulty, and began circling around his opponent. Erik was better off than Davras, but he was still exhausted and couldn't push himself too hard, or last too much longer. Erik decided that he had to end the fight soon, and moved towards Davras once more. Erik struck towards the dwarf’s upper arm, and then swung at his stomach before he could react. Davras stumbled backwards as the wind was knocked from him, and Erik slid in, determined to deliver the final blow. Erik swung his sword upwards, catching Davras’ axe and knocking it from his weakened grip. The axe landed a few metres away from the pair, and Erik aimed his sword at the disarmed dwarf. Davras stood there for a moment, puffing as he glanced from Erik, to his axe, and back, before he sighed and let a grin spread across his face. “Alright, you've won, lad.” The dwarf turned towards the representatives and raised his arms. “I concede.” A wave of mumbling spread between the judges, and Uther took his place at the ringside once more. “The challenger, Erik, has prevailed!”
Erik took a seat on a bench at the side of the ring, trying to control his heavy breathing. Davras came over to the bench and sat next to Erik, his breathing just as heavy as the psychic’s. “You’re pretty good, lad.” The dwarf said between breaths. “Where did you learn to fight?” Erik smiled at the compliment despite his exhaustion. “I've been learning since I could lift a sword. My father got me the best tutors from miles around.” “Well, I'd say it paid off.” “You're quite talented with an axe yourself.” Erik said. “Where did you learn?” “I'm self-taught.” Erik raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. “Self-taught? By the gods, how did you do that?” Davras laughed at the psychic’s surprise. “I hid an axe under my bed, and left every night after my parents were asleep to practise against dummies or trees. When I finally got caught, I could already beat my old man in a duel.” Both the psychic and the dwarf chuckled at the story. “You've left a bloody big bruise on my belly.” Davras laughed as he lifted his shirt, displaying the mottled purple mark on his stomach. “I didn't exactly get out unscathed.” Erik replied, lifting his sleeve to show an array of bruises on his arm. “Sorry about focusing your arm, it was the highest target I could hit.” Both fighters laughed again as Uther walked over to the pair.
“Well, lad, the verdict has passed. The judges have decided that you’re fit to enter Mithril Hall.” Erik cracked a grin at the dwarf. The fruits of his labour were laid in front of him. The tasks were hard, but he had faced all the challenges before him and succeeded. Uther motioned for Erik to follow him. “Come with me, lad, I've got something for you.” Erik stood up and followed the dwarf out of the hall and into the main cavern of Dwarfholm. The pair made their way through the crowds of Dwarfholm, before arriving at Uther’s office. Erik gave Uther a puzzled look, but the dwarf just smiled at the psychic and opened the door. When they entered, Uther sat Erik in the chair in front of his desk and reach inside. The dwarf pulled a box out of the desk and handed it to Erik. “A welcoming gift from Mithril Hall.” Uther said, grinning at the psychic. Erik opened the box and pulled out a beautifully crafted axe. It’s steel edge was sharpened to a point beyond what Erik thought was possible, and the head was decorated with with an ornate, twisting design, slightly Celtic in nature. The grip was two feet long, which Erik guess was large for a dwarf but was a perfectly sized hand axe for a human.
The psychic held the axe up to the light to inspect it, and noticed a blue sheen to the weapon. Erik turned to Uther, with a faint smile on his face. “Is this cobalt?” The dwarf nodded, reciprocating Erik’s smile. “Aye, you brought back so much we decided to use some of it to make your weapon. I thought it would be a good reminder of how far you've come.” Erik stood up and swung the weapon around, testing its weight. “Davras told us about the measurement of your sword, so hopefully it should be well balanced.” Uther said as he watched Erik test the weapon. Sure enough, Erik could use the axe just as well as he handled Mageslayer. The psychic sat back in his chair, struggling to come up with the words to convey his gratitude. “Thank you for all the support.” Erik said. “I don't think I could have made it through without you.” Uther smiled, bowing his head humbly. “Don't mention it, lad.” Erik stood up, and moved for the door. “I'd better get going, I've got work to attend to.” Uther stood up, and followed Erik. “Aw, don't you have time for just a few drinks?” Erik paused, considering the offer. “Ok, just a few drinks.”
Quote:2325 words + 7679 words = 10004/10000
12816 characters with spaces + 44682 = 57498 characters with spaces
10494 characters without spaces + 36608 = 47,102 characters without spaces
All according to google docs.
Dwarven champion beaten, quest complete!
*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