04-25-2015, 11:30 AM
With their return to Zul’Gurand, Droggle presented the items he had collected as proof of their travels. A decapitated dwarf’s head, the frosty scales of an ice dragon, and what appeared to be an ivory tooth pried from the giant’s gums. Gildarts still pondered how the troll had spared the time to gather all these articles, but spared no further thought as a strange unspoken dispute began to rise in the room of the many trolls.
“What’s the meaning of this, Droggle?” The grandfather troll grunted as he approached the table where the items had been scattered, “What?! Has he really defeated the Dragon of the West?”
“No puny hu-man could survive such a thing!” A troll protested from the corner of the room.
“Now it has become a test of pride.” Droggle retorted with his eyes narrowed and his gray-blue skin.
“Aye, but is he worthy of our clan?”
“That ain’ even a question. Is he really worthy of his life after the conquest? No troll can allow a human to live with such power without challenging our champion.” The bickering between trolls began.
Someone pounded the table and with a hollow thud, the dwarf head rolled to the ground. “A duel shall be issued by nightfall.”
“But who shall face the human?”
The sickening sound of crushing bones could be heard silencing the chatter of the bar, all eyes looked to the one-handed troll that had stomped on the dwarf's frozen head with his boot and crushed through it’s skull in an effortless step. The grandfather troll’s glare could be felt in the tense air as his chest puffed, “I’ll do it.”
“Drink up and gain your strength back, for you will have a real battle on your hands. Elder here has never lost.” Droggle coached the Prime, “He may not look it an’ despite his age, he’s the best there is.”
Gildarts allowed his eyes to follow the secondary troll who had an axe in place of his other hand. In a way they were similar. Elder spoke, “So Prime, are you ready to fight for your life?”
...
“Kill... Kill... Kill... Kill...!” The chants of the people advocating his death only enlivened him. The scent of rotting blood stunk in the musty room as Gildarts was lead to a strange looking chamber and told to drink a mix of decaying liquid.
“Here, it will help you in your battle.” Droggle prompted the foul smelling ale into the Prime’s hands.
“I only drink after I’ve won.” Gildarts lightly touched the rim of the mug away from him with a relieved exhale.
Droggle smirked a bit, “You will be facing our people’s best today, it is a great honor, even if you die.”
That’s right... Now I fight for my life against the very people I just completed a mission for. But, not all cultures were the same, and according to Droggle it seemed as though battle was the most respectable way to die in their tradition. Now they plan to kill me as a reward... The Prime put his silver palm to cool his forehead. It had been a long day.
“Choose your weapon,” Droggle asked and displayed a long line of tools created for the sole purpose of mangling flesh. Gildarts held up a crunched fist, he had gotten this far with it: His ultimate weapon. It was held up still as he entered the theater of war.
“YARRR!” Elder’s laughter filled the arena-type room as trolls cheered for their champion.
“What’s he doing?” Gildarts held his breath as the champion in armor finished off a youthful looking troll and searched for his next victim to kill.
“He’s warming up, you can do it too, but if I were you, I’d conserve my strength for the real fight.” Droggle informed until Gildarts stepped forward and was thrown in the midst of the distasteful “warm-up” routine.
“YOU!” The man’s voice boomed in the room, silencing all laughter and destruction despite how each mingled together as though they were long lost friends. A pool of the dead troll’s blood surrounded his boots, “I am not familiar with your culture, troll, but where I’m from, crushing the young is one of the cruelest things imaginable.”
“HAH! EXACTLY!” The troll champion laughed and the room burst with applause. It seemed some strange currency was being passed around and Gildarts guessed that it was the betting bin and remembered his odds well. Ten-to-one. Elder continued, “No fear for death, no fear for our enemies. We trolls do not cringe at the sight of blood as the weak humans do. We trolls fight to the death and by surviving, we win the right to spill the very blood of our enemies. That is what it means to be a troll.”
“I’ll tell you then, what it means to be a man. The most honorable men I’ve met are those who offer mercy to their opponents once they have fallen. It may seem as though sparing life is a weakness because of a lack of ability to follow through. To you, allowing your opponent to live means a man has a weak resolve. But the world where I am from... Honor is seen as the strongest and most respectable ability of all, so that each warrior may live to fight another day.”
“Hah! Humans have some funny ideas, don’ they!” The troll champion spoke to the roaring crowd, “You will get no mercy from me. I fight with something stronger than your puny honor, it is called power. I use it with my axe to vanquish my foes. Or maybe you have heard of it? Honor is not needed where war belongs.” The troll schooled the Prime.
“Now, where’s the challenge in that?” Gildarts grinned at the troll’s drooping smile. The creature’s warped face recoiled in disgust at the jolting insult.
“Take that back human!” The brute growled and showed his sharp teeth, filed into spears as if to rip the very flesh from his victims.
Drums began to pound in the empty room, filling the battlefield with an even pace that each warrior’s heartbeat would match to. The troll champion began to circle the outskirts of the arena, which was flat and dirt covered. Gildarts remained where he was, not much of the boxing type, and exhaled a foggy breath into the crisp air. It would soon begin.
His eyes blazed with fire as the sticky crimson blood stained his boots in the puddle below.
“Look at this, he actually thinks he can defeat me!” The troll champion jeered as he provoked the Prime for the singular purpose that Gildarts would fight him with his best.
Tribal drums continued to clap with a snowballing pace, Gildarts eyed his ferocious opponent once more. The gray troll towered over him by at least a foot, gray skin was laden with armor on his torso and the skins of his defeated flowed in a beige cape to the troll’s heels. The champion troll was a notorious dwarf killer, almost as famous as the ice dragon Gildarts had slain. The troll prepared for yet another duel and Gildarts felt his expression harden from the repulsed anger at their people. The mighty Prime threw off his black cloak at the same time the troll champion removed his cape of skin. Each fell to a crumpled pile on the ground while they matched one another’s gaze and took a step closer.
Death will not be delivered so easily to me. Gildarts stood with his ripped muscles bulging from the strength of his arms, meanwhile he faced off against a troll who had thick armor covering his torso. Cut along Gildarts’ torso were bandages and stitched scars which made it seem as though he were still recovering from a battle that had damaged him long ago, one waged in his home verse. The Prime remained fixed on his opponent, focus and concentration drowned out the rest of the room’s chaos. Drums faded, smiling orcs became shadows, and the greedy clatter of change into the basket fell ominously silent.
A breath filled his lungs, the troll too had readied his gaze on his Prime opponent. The puny human, he was sure, was no match for a seasoned veteran such as he. The human even showed his weakness as he bore marks of injury on his chest that appeared still unhealed. Did he expect pity? Two lost appendages, where as the troll champion only had one. Little did they know each had lost theirs from a dragon. Elder could not loose to this man, his ego, no matter how savage, could not bare it. Not with the leader of Zul’Gurand attending the festivities. The real question of the two warriors was not who was stronger, but which of them had the stronger will to survive.
The drumming reached its fastest pace before stopping altogether and the fight commenced with the troll growing close and offering a smile that was of the same curved degree as the crescent shamed axe he had for a hand. Suddenly the force of the axe was grappling with the Prime's metallic forearm and the troll had immediately put him on defense.
Gildarts growled and felt the thundering blow of the troll champion’s punch collapse into his abdomen. The Prime nearly stumbled over due to the immediate sense of fresh pain. It woke up his muscles and sent ripples of enflamed torment shooting up his chest. Grating metal shrieked in his ears. He grit his teeth as another punch collided into his jaw, it was nearly shattered as the Prime was easily pushed aside by the sheer weight behind the tremendous force. His eyes rolled beneath their lids as his head spun and his stomach clenched in a nauseating twist.
The troll’s expression grew into one of satisfaction as he used the base of his hammer-hand and rammed the smooth part into the kneeling Prime’s head. The rock around Gildarts’ skull shattered as he was pounded and thrashed into the wall by the champion's combination of power and speed. The immortal was put to sleep by the consistent pounding of his skull that he mistook in his disorientation, as the familiar pounding of battle drums. With the next hit, the immediate agony delivered a ricocheting shock to his body that almost, almost flinched at the pain.
First blood had been drawn as it spattered to the sand dusted floor and Gildarts could not withstand another blow to his head, at the last second he dodged his neck from the mallet and countered with a weaker blow to the troll’s shoulder.
“Now, now, ye’ll have to better than that.” The vicious grin of Elder twisted into the movements that shook the muscles into the champion’s next move. A swing of his sharp axe was only stopped by the metal of Gildarts’ left elbow. Gildarts saw another opening in the troll’s chest but could not land the blow, instead his other fist was pinned by the troll who seethed with anger. “This is not your best, human, now is it... Human? You may be one of the greatest warriors of your kind, but against a troll as great as I, ye are just another pest. Show me the real weapon you yield, for against me, you cannot hope to win with your fists alone.”
Maybe the creature was right, Gildarts charged his magic into his fist, seeing no other option. Desperation to survive kept the blood pumping in his veins. Blood from his head trickled down in stagnant streams that lined his torso in stripes and had sprayed scarlet specks on his gleaming metallic arm. The weight of pain was heavy on his shoulders and Gildarts felt his eyelids grow heavy when he attempted to suck in air but was held by the throat, strangled by the creature’s single hand.
Elder held up his weakened opponent for the entire troll population to see as Gildarts could not even move to flex his toes. The charge in his palm was lost as the room began to darken around him, Was it all over? A flash of the princess in the ice cave suddenly shook him from the dream-like state he had entered. The crowd of trolls cheered as the readied for the troll champion’s famous final move: Thunder stomp. Gildarts’ head was clasped in the troll’s fist before suddenly in the darkness he felt gravity sway and change. A powerful launch propelled him into the ground. At the same moment he was thrown with tremendous force, a sliver of his magic was released into the ground below them; Elder lost his balance as the earth broke beneath him and seemed to launch little cubes into the air due to the crash Gildarts’ had made when he was trounced into the ground.
Cracked pieces of earth were shaken off of the troll champion, who blinked away the haze of dust from his eyes. The troll champion stood in awe of the power he had delivered that blow with. In all his years, he had never before applied such power. The audience screamed approval and coins were flung in the air. Their champion had killed yet another human.
Amidst the cheers and clinking of ale-filled glass, Gildarts scrambled from the hole in the earth he had created, his bloodied skull had stained his auburn hair and half of his face seemed to race with rusty blood. The troll had turned his back from his defeated opponent and it was to his and all of their surprise when his renewed and confident voice was heard once more, “I’m not done with you yet.”
The champion’s blood froze, He had managed to survive that? “Yer’ a real monster,” the troll offered a faltering smile as his carnivorous teeth flashed.
“That was my warm up.[/i]” His deep voice casually offered back, almost betrayed by the pain searing against his throat. The retort shocked the old troll who staggered for a moment in his place, unsure if he was to believe fully it and sized up his opponent once more. Something had changed about the Prime during the battle, an unrefined aim had sharpened in his gaze as the Prime now stared unwaveringly at his enemy. The air seemed to crackle with magic as the glare broke through the bristling silence. Gildarts extended his hand mercilessly while his expression was stained with blood and anger, soon after, white magic was launched toward his foe in a netted pattern.
Before the troll had the chance to dodge, his armor was scratched with the grazing energy and he felt the coolness of his blood as it was drawn from his freshly sliced skin. Not deep cuts, but thick enough to enrage the monster who now would have more battle scars to add to the tattooed collection hidden beneath his foggy gray armor.
The immortal charged again, his eyes menacing, and another blast was released into his enemy. Slices once more formed through the troll’s armor and inched into his skin. Chunks of the gray armor began to shatter and fall to pieces. A beastly growl was released and the champion charged with his melee axe once more as he aimed a killing blow to bash into the puny human’s head. Suddenly, the immortal's eyes narrowed as though the troll had played into Gildarts’ assumption and the ground below his feet rippled, causing the chase to be more difficult. This didn’t stop the final boss from finally reaching the Prime with more strength in his swing than ever before. Gildarts intercepted the swing with his silver arm and caught the planted force of the axe with in his metallic palm. A scary smile formed around his stubble as the Prime held back the troll’s immense power seemingly with ease, “Now, you’ll have to do better than that.”
Gildarts released a glowing white punch into the champion’s abdomen and Elder was thrown off his feet and into the wall behind him. An indent had formed around the collapsed troll, who took a moment to stand and catch his breath, he wasn’t as young as he used to be.
The barbaric troll rose from his stupor and once again faced off against the deadly Prime. Gildarts moved his head to the side and narrowed his eyes into a determined squint. The troll champion had never seen such menace and coiled his fist in retaliation to the power displayed.
The warriors clashed like gladiators once more in the middle of the colosseum. Hands and feet were dodged, flesh was grazed, and bites of flesh were taken as the hook of the champion’s axe-hand sliced into human skin and sprayed a splash of blood as Gildarts endured the deep embedded axe in his bicep and landed the final punch on his opponent. It glowed with traces of white magic and the troll fell into the ground in a soundless strike.
He caught his breath for a moment before grasping the burning wound of his arm from which blood dribbled and poured. Pain crawled to his throbbing skull, a high pitched chime wouldn't leave his ears, and his crunched ribs were repulsed by every breath he took. “Tch... Maybe I over did it?” The immortal winced in pain and applied ample pressure to the wound that would not stop gushing. The wobbling man took a weakened knee next to the defeated troll champion and his shoulders stooped in acceptance of the pain that overwhelmed his body. He could feel the warm sensation of his own blood as it flowed to the battered parts of his body and seeped out of the lashed skin. His head dipped into a bow, for he could no longer hold it up against the burdening weight of fatigue and ache. The iron taste of his own blood coating his tongue was a taste he would not soon forget and a memory he would carry with him from this day onward.
Sweat gleamed on his shoulders and matted his darkened hair, there was a new champion of combat in Zul’Gurand and his name was Gildarts.
...
The troll champion himself awoke in a blaze of thrashing. “He... Won. I’m alive?! THAT BASTARD!”
“Yer’ the only troll ever to survive a duel to the death. It is as though you have vanquished death itself!” a smiling nurse told him.
“But, I lost. It don’ matter...”
“Sure it does,” her smile lifted his spirit, “Now you can gain even more experience in the years to come. You’ll live to battle another day. Or at least, that’s what he said. Pretty wise for a human, wouldn't you say?” The nurse folded over the clean tarps and Elder glanced around, he saw his arms and legs covered with bandages. It was that good of a battle, eh? A smile folded the wrinkles of his gray lips.
“Is he still here?”
“Well after we bandaged you both up, you fell asleep. Right now I believe he should be...” The jingling of the town’s tribal bells tolled and the troll lurched too quickly from his sleeping position and sat upright. He put on his moccasins and strode off in pursuit of the Prime.
Droggle handed him a strange looking weapon, it was coated in a gooey looking substance and Gildarts recoiled instead of touching it. There seemed to be lines of “trophies” dangling from it as well as other strange looking talismans that the mage couldn’t place. A pile of tarps was offered as a reward for the Prime’s valiant ordeal.
“HOLD IT!” Elder shouted, interrupting the festival and made his way around the pack of orcs, heads rose to sneer at the disgraced troll. Gildarts looked lazily over, he still felt nausea sinking in his stomach from the battle not a day before. It had taken its toll on his body and incapacitated him for a short time as even more bandages had been added to his collection.
“Get outta here Elder,” Droggle warned, “This is the anointing ceremony, you of all trolls should know that. The human won fair and square and it was his choice to let you live.”
“I know.” The troll champion raised his head with fresh pride and grattitude, “I wanted to thank him for that. And I wanted to give him my axe.”
“No, you don’t mean...?”
“Aye. For the first time in me life, someone smaller than me has proven to be stronger. Ye’ should be commended.” Elder began to go through the motions to break the axe from his arm.
“I don’t want your arm, troll.” Gildarts spoke and revealed his own steely appendage, “I have my own. Use yours to fight off your enemies and give a better life to your people.”
“Ye’ know, I just might. Trolls, may I introduce Zul’Gurand’s new champion, Gildarts!” Elder stepped down from the platform and allowed Gildarts all the glory.
The cheers of excitement died away and Gildarts was left holding a creepy looking axe, it rippled with power and it seemed magic even flowed through the tradition with traces of troll lore. Later, he was told by Droggle it had Elder’s blood dribbled on it so that his strength would follow him to battle but the Prime thanked the troll people for their hospitality anyway.
“Where will you go from here?” Droggle, his once-enemy and now forever-friend had asked him with underlying tones of curiosity that hinted at accompanying him on his journey.
“I will be going to the Black Gate. It is not a place for mortals like you to wander near.” Gildarts shook the half-troll’s hand and shared the honor of his triumph with him, even in the Prime’s departure.
The burden of solitude hung on his shoulders once more. As above, snow danced with the many stars that were cradled by the silhouette of the mountain, reminding Gildarts that he was not alone.
...
“What happened next Grandpa?” The young troll asked the elder as he was bounced once again on the old troll’s leg.
“Hah, I’ll get to it, don’t rush me. I may be old, but I ain’t gonna die tomorrow!” The troll champion ruffled his grandkid’s hair with his good hand and took in another steady breath of life as he was warmed by the fire.
“It was on this day, I learned a valuable lesson -from a human if you can believe it- and I was shown the true power of a man’s will. It was then, after all that had happened, I realized my own folly. Perhaps even, the folly of the trolls, and though I had been defeated by him, I did not loose my will to fight again for tomorrow.”
“WOW! Grandpa, you’re so cool! Tell me another story!” The youth’s eyes grew with excitement, they had spent hours in that little room together, and it was there that they would spend hours more.
“What’s the meaning of this, Droggle?” The grandfather troll grunted as he approached the table where the items had been scattered, “What?! Has he really defeated the Dragon of the West?”
“No puny hu-man could survive such a thing!” A troll protested from the corner of the room.
“Now it has become a test of pride.” Droggle retorted with his eyes narrowed and his gray-blue skin.
“Aye, but is he worthy of our clan?”
“That ain’ even a question. Is he really worthy of his life after the conquest? No troll can allow a human to live with such power without challenging our champion.” The bickering between trolls began.
Someone pounded the table and with a hollow thud, the dwarf head rolled to the ground. “A duel shall be issued by nightfall.”
“But who shall face the human?”
The sickening sound of crushing bones could be heard silencing the chatter of the bar, all eyes looked to the one-handed troll that had stomped on the dwarf's frozen head with his boot and crushed through it’s skull in an effortless step. The grandfather troll’s glare could be felt in the tense air as his chest puffed, “I’ll do it.”
“Drink up and gain your strength back, for you will have a real battle on your hands. Elder here has never lost.” Droggle coached the Prime, “He may not look it an’ despite his age, he’s the best there is.”
Gildarts allowed his eyes to follow the secondary troll who had an axe in place of his other hand. In a way they were similar. Elder spoke, “So Prime, are you ready to fight for your life?”
...
“Kill... Kill... Kill... Kill...!” The chants of the people advocating his death only enlivened him. The scent of rotting blood stunk in the musty room as Gildarts was lead to a strange looking chamber and told to drink a mix of decaying liquid.
“Here, it will help you in your battle.” Droggle prompted the foul smelling ale into the Prime’s hands.
“I only drink after I’ve won.” Gildarts lightly touched the rim of the mug away from him with a relieved exhale.
Droggle smirked a bit, “You will be facing our people’s best today, it is a great honor, even if you die.”
That’s right... Now I fight for my life against the very people I just completed a mission for. But, not all cultures were the same, and according to Droggle it seemed as though battle was the most respectable way to die in their tradition. Now they plan to kill me as a reward... The Prime put his silver palm to cool his forehead. It had been a long day.
“Choose your weapon,” Droggle asked and displayed a long line of tools created for the sole purpose of mangling flesh. Gildarts held up a crunched fist, he had gotten this far with it: His ultimate weapon. It was held up still as he entered the theater of war.
“YARRR!” Elder’s laughter filled the arena-type room as trolls cheered for their champion.
“What’s he doing?” Gildarts held his breath as the champion in armor finished off a youthful looking troll and searched for his next victim to kill.
“He’s warming up, you can do it too, but if I were you, I’d conserve my strength for the real fight.” Droggle informed until Gildarts stepped forward and was thrown in the midst of the distasteful “warm-up” routine.
“YOU!” The man’s voice boomed in the room, silencing all laughter and destruction despite how each mingled together as though they were long lost friends. A pool of the dead troll’s blood surrounded his boots, “I am not familiar with your culture, troll, but where I’m from, crushing the young is one of the cruelest things imaginable.”
“HAH! EXACTLY!” The troll champion laughed and the room burst with applause. It seemed some strange currency was being passed around and Gildarts guessed that it was the betting bin and remembered his odds well. Ten-to-one. Elder continued, “No fear for death, no fear for our enemies. We trolls do not cringe at the sight of blood as the weak humans do. We trolls fight to the death and by surviving, we win the right to spill the very blood of our enemies. That is what it means to be a troll.”
“I’ll tell you then, what it means to be a man. The most honorable men I’ve met are those who offer mercy to their opponents once they have fallen. It may seem as though sparing life is a weakness because of a lack of ability to follow through. To you, allowing your opponent to live means a man has a weak resolve. But the world where I am from... Honor is seen as the strongest and most respectable ability of all, so that each warrior may live to fight another day.”
“Hah! Humans have some funny ideas, don’ they!” The troll champion spoke to the roaring crowd, “You will get no mercy from me. I fight with something stronger than your puny honor, it is called power. I use it with my axe to vanquish my foes. Or maybe you have heard of it? Honor is not needed where war belongs.” The troll schooled the Prime.
“Now, where’s the challenge in that?” Gildarts grinned at the troll’s drooping smile. The creature’s warped face recoiled in disgust at the jolting insult.
“Take that back human!” The brute growled and showed his sharp teeth, filed into spears as if to rip the very flesh from his victims.
Drums began to pound in the empty room, filling the battlefield with an even pace that each warrior’s heartbeat would match to. The troll champion began to circle the outskirts of the arena, which was flat and dirt covered. Gildarts remained where he was, not much of the boxing type, and exhaled a foggy breath into the crisp air. It would soon begin.
His eyes blazed with fire as the sticky crimson blood stained his boots in the puddle below.
“Look at this, he actually thinks he can defeat me!” The troll champion jeered as he provoked the Prime for the singular purpose that Gildarts would fight him with his best.
Tribal drums continued to clap with a snowballing pace, Gildarts eyed his ferocious opponent once more. The gray troll towered over him by at least a foot, gray skin was laden with armor on his torso and the skins of his defeated flowed in a beige cape to the troll’s heels. The champion troll was a notorious dwarf killer, almost as famous as the ice dragon Gildarts had slain. The troll prepared for yet another duel and Gildarts felt his expression harden from the repulsed anger at their people. The mighty Prime threw off his black cloak at the same time the troll champion removed his cape of skin. Each fell to a crumpled pile on the ground while they matched one another’s gaze and took a step closer.
Death will not be delivered so easily to me. Gildarts stood with his ripped muscles bulging from the strength of his arms, meanwhile he faced off against a troll who had thick armor covering his torso. Cut along Gildarts’ torso were bandages and stitched scars which made it seem as though he were still recovering from a battle that had damaged him long ago, one waged in his home verse. The Prime remained fixed on his opponent, focus and concentration drowned out the rest of the room’s chaos. Drums faded, smiling orcs became shadows, and the greedy clatter of change into the basket fell ominously silent.
A breath filled his lungs, the troll too had readied his gaze on his Prime opponent. The puny human, he was sure, was no match for a seasoned veteran such as he. The human even showed his weakness as he bore marks of injury on his chest that appeared still unhealed. Did he expect pity? Two lost appendages, where as the troll champion only had one. Little did they know each had lost theirs from a dragon. Elder could not loose to this man, his ego, no matter how savage, could not bare it. Not with the leader of Zul’Gurand attending the festivities. The real question of the two warriors was not who was stronger, but which of them had the stronger will to survive.
The drumming reached its fastest pace before stopping altogether and the fight commenced with the troll growing close and offering a smile that was of the same curved degree as the crescent shamed axe he had for a hand. Suddenly the force of the axe was grappling with the Prime's metallic forearm and the troll had immediately put him on defense.
Gildarts growled and felt the thundering blow of the troll champion’s punch collapse into his abdomen. The Prime nearly stumbled over due to the immediate sense of fresh pain. It woke up his muscles and sent ripples of enflamed torment shooting up his chest. Grating metal shrieked in his ears. He grit his teeth as another punch collided into his jaw, it was nearly shattered as the Prime was easily pushed aside by the sheer weight behind the tremendous force. His eyes rolled beneath their lids as his head spun and his stomach clenched in a nauseating twist.
The troll’s expression grew into one of satisfaction as he used the base of his hammer-hand and rammed the smooth part into the kneeling Prime’s head. The rock around Gildarts’ skull shattered as he was pounded and thrashed into the wall by the champion's combination of power and speed. The immortal was put to sleep by the consistent pounding of his skull that he mistook in his disorientation, as the familiar pounding of battle drums. With the next hit, the immediate agony delivered a ricocheting shock to his body that almost, almost flinched at the pain.
First blood had been drawn as it spattered to the sand dusted floor and Gildarts could not withstand another blow to his head, at the last second he dodged his neck from the mallet and countered with a weaker blow to the troll’s shoulder.
“Now, now, ye’ll have to better than that.” The vicious grin of Elder twisted into the movements that shook the muscles into the champion’s next move. A swing of his sharp axe was only stopped by the metal of Gildarts’ left elbow. Gildarts saw another opening in the troll’s chest but could not land the blow, instead his other fist was pinned by the troll who seethed with anger. “This is not your best, human, now is it... Human? You may be one of the greatest warriors of your kind, but against a troll as great as I, ye are just another pest. Show me the real weapon you yield, for against me, you cannot hope to win with your fists alone.”
Maybe the creature was right, Gildarts charged his magic into his fist, seeing no other option. Desperation to survive kept the blood pumping in his veins. Blood from his head trickled down in stagnant streams that lined his torso in stripes and had sprayed scarlet specks on his gleaming metallic arm. The weight of pain was heavy on his shoulders and Gildarts felt his eyelids grow heavy when he attempted to suck in air but was held by the throat, strangled by the creature’s single hand.
Elder held up his weakened opponent for the entire troll population to see as Gildarts could not even move to flex his toes. The charge in his palm was lost as the room began to darken around him, Was it all over? A flash of the princess in the ice cave suddenly shook him from the dream-like state he had entered. The crowd of trolls cheered as the readied for the troll champion’s famous final move: Thunder stomp. Gildarts’ head was clasped in the troll’s fist before suddenly in the darkness he felt gravity sway and change. A powerful launch propelled him into the ground. At the same moment he was thrown with tremendous force, a sliver of his magic was released into the ground below them; Elder lost his balance as the earth broke beneath him and seemed to launch little cubes into the air due to the crash Gildarts’ had made when he was trounced into the ground.
Cracked pieces of earth were shaken off of the troll champion, who blinked away the haze of dust from his eyes. The troll champion stood in awe of the power he had delivered that blow with. In all his years, he had never before applied such power. The audience screamed approval and coins were flung in the air. Their champion had killed yet another human.
Amidst the cheers and clinking of ale-filled glass, Gildarts scrambled from the hole in the earth he had created, his bloodied skull had stained his auburn hair and half of his face seemed to race with rusty blood. The troll had turned his back from his defeated opponent and it was to his and all of their surprise when his renewed and confident voice was heard once more, “I’m not done with you yet.”
The champion’s blood froze, He had managed to survive that? “Yer’ a real monster,” the troll offered a faltering smile as his carnivorous teeth flashed.
“That was my warm up.[/i]” His deep voice casually offered back, almost betrayed by the pain searing against his throat. The retort shocked the old troll who staggered for a moment in his place, unsure if he was to believe fully it and sized up his opponent once more. Something had changed about the Prime during the battle, an unrefined aim had sharpened in his gaze as the Prime now stared unwaveringly at his enemy. The air seemed to crackle with magic as the glare broke through the bristling silence. Gildarts extended his hand mercilessly while his expression was stained with blood and anger, soon after, white magic was launched toward his foe in a netted pattern.
Before the troll had the chance to dodge, his armor was scratched with the grazing energy and he felt the coolness of his blood as it was drawn from his freshly sliced skin. Not deep cuts, but thick enough to enrage the monster who now would have more battle scars to add to the tattooed collection hidden beneath his foggy gray armor.
The immortal charged again, his eyes menacing, and another blast was released into his enemy. Slices once more formed through the troll’s armor and inched into his skin. Chunks of the gray armor began to shatter and fall to pieces. A beastly growl was released and the champion charged with his melee axe once more as he aimed a killing blow to bash into the puny human’s head. Suddenly, the immortal's eyes narrowed as though the troll had played into Gildarts’ assumption and the ground below his feet rippled, causing the chase to be more difficult. This didn’t stop the final boss from finally reaching the Prime with more strength in his swing than ever before. Gildarts intercepted the swing with his silver arm and caught the planted force of the axe with in his metallic palm. A scary smile formed around his stubble as the Prime held back the troll’s immense power seemingly with ease, “Now, you’ll have to do better than that.”
Gildarts released a glowing white punch into the champion’s abdomen and Elder was thrown off his feet and into the wall behind him. An indent had formed around the collapsed troll, who took a moment to stand and catch his breath, he wasn’t as young as he used to be.
The barbaric troll rose from his stupor and once again faced off against the deadly Prime. Gildarts moved his head to the side and narrowed his eyes into a determined squint. The troll champion had never seen such menace and coiled his fist in retaliation to the power displayed.
The warriors clashed like gladiators once more in the middle of the colosseum. Hands and feet were dodged, flesh was grazed, and bites of flesh were taken as the hook of the champion’s axe-hand sliced into human skin and sprayed a splash of blood as Gildarts endured the deep embedded axe in his bicep and landed the final punch on his opponent. It glowed with traces of white magic and the troll fell into the ground in a soundless strike.
He caught his breath for a moment before grasping the burning wound of his arm from which blood dribbled and poured. Pain crawled to his throbbing skull, a high pitched chime wouldn't leave his ears, and his crunched ribs were repulsed by every breath he took. “Tch... Maybe I over did it?” The immortal winced in pain and applied ample pressure to the wound that would not stop gushing. The wobbling man took a weakened knee next to the defeated troll champion and his shoulders stooped in acceptance of the pain that overwhelmed his body. He could feel the warm sensation of his own blood as it flowed to the battered parts of his body and seeped out of the lashed skin. His head dipped into a bow, for he could no longer hold it up against the burdening weight of fatigue and ache. The iron taste of his own blood coating his tongue was a taste he would not soon forget and a memory he would carry with him from this day onward.
Sweat gleamed on his shoulders and matted his darkened hair, there was a new champion of combat in Zul’Gurand and his name was Gildarts.
...
The troll champion himself awoke in a blaze of thrashing. “He... Won. I’m alive?! THAT BASTARD!”
“Yer’ the only troll ever to survive a duel to the death. It is as though you have vanquished death itself!” a smiling nurse told him.
“But, I lost. It don’ matter...”
“Sure it does,” her smile lifted his spirit, “Now you can gain even more experience in the years to come. You’ll live to battle another day. Or at least, that’s what he said. Pretty wise for a human, wouldn't you say?” The nurse folded over the clean tarps and Elder glanced around, he saw his arms and legs covered with bandages. It was that good of a battle, eh? A smile folded the wrinkles of his gray lips.
“Is he still here?”
“Well after we bandaged you both up, you fell asleep. Right now I believe he should be...” The jingling of the town’s tribal bells tolled and the troll lurched too quickly from his sleeping position and sat upright. He put on his moccasins and strode off in pursuit of the Prime.
Droggle handed him a strange looking weapon, it was coated in a gooey looking substance and Gildarts recoiled instead of touching it. There seemed to be lines of “trophies” dangling from it as well as other strange looking talismans that the mage couldn’t place. A pile of tarps was offered as a reward for the Prime’s valiant ordeal.
“HOLD IT!” Elder shouted, interrupting the festival and made his way around the pack of orcs, heads rose to sneer at the disgraced troll. Gildarts looked lazily over, he still felt nausea sinking in his stomach from the battle not a day before. It had taken its toll on his body and incapacitated him for a short time as even more bandages had been added to his collection.
“Get outta here Elder,” Droggle warned, “This is the anointing ceremony, you of all trolls should know that. The human won fair and square and it was his choice to let you live.”
“I know.” The troll champion raised his head with fresh pride and grattitude, “I wanted to thank him for that. And I wanted to give him my axe.”
“No, you don’t mean...?”
“Aye. For the first time in me life, someone smaller than me has proven to be stronger. Ye’ should be commended.” Elder began to go through the motions to break the axe from his arm.
“I don’t want your arm, troll.” Gildarts spoke and revealed his own steely appendage, “I have my own. Use yours to fight off your enemies and give a better life to your people.”
“Ye’ know, I just might. Trolls, may I introduce Zul’Gurand’s new champion, Gildarts!” Elder stepped down from the platform and allowed Gildarts all the glory.
The cheers of excitement died away and Gildarts was left holding a creepy looking axe, it rippled with power and it seemed magic even flowed through the tradition with traces of troll lore. Later, he was told by Droggle it had Elder’s blood dribbled on it so that his strength would follow him to battle but the Prime thanked the troll people for their hospitality anyway.
“Where will you go from here?” Droggle, his once-enemy and now forever-friend had asked him with underlying tones of curiosity that hinted at accompanying him on his journey.
“I will be going to the Black Gate. It is not a place for mortals like you to wander near.” Gildarts shook the half-troll’s hand and shared the honor of his triumph with him, even in the Prime’s departure.
The burden of solitude hung on his shoulders once more. As above, snow danced with the many stars that were cradled by the silhouette of the mountain, reminding Gildarts that he was not alone.
...
“What happened next Grandpa?” The young troll asked the elder as he was bounced once again on the old troll’s leg.
“Hah, I’ll get to it, don’t rush me. I may be old, but I ain’t gonna die tomorrow!” The troll champion ruffled his grandkid’s hair with his good hand and took in another steady breath of life as he was warmed by the fire.
“It was on this day, I learned a valuable lesson -from a human if you can believe it- and I was shown the true power of a man’s will. It was then, after all that had happened, I realized my own folly. Perhaps even, the folly of the trolls, and though I had been defeated by him, I did not loose my will to fight again for tomorrow.”
“WOW! Grandpa, you’re so cool! Tell me another story!” The youth’s eyes grew with excitement, they had spent hours in that little room together, and it was there that they would spend hours more.
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus