Racing for the keep once more, Eric gave a silent command as he sprinted up his undead siege tower in time with the pounding crash of monstrous Tuskers rattling both portcullises.

His plan was simple. Use shock and awe to stun and distract his opponents, so in the moments that his foe’s eyes, spears, and perhaps blaster rifles or cannons as well, instinctively pointed to the sight of over a dozen massive revenants breaching both gates… that was the moment he would strike, raining pilum-shaped death down upon all his foes.

Then his racing thoughts stilled as intention became action and he sprang to the battlements, his weapon at the ready. A quick glance revealed neither Classer nor cannon nor anyone at all waiting for him on the battlements themselves. Head roaring with the sound of his own pounding heart, Eric immediately twisted around to face his targets, whipping around to propel the pilum in his hand with devastating force as it streaked through the air, locking on the first target to catch his eye.

The massive countenance of the chieftan himself.

Who smiled coldly when Eric’s perfectly thrown spear whipped through the air… before pivoting aside at a speed that should have been impossible for any massive, overgrown Orsinian.

Chief Valeg let loose a bellow of laughter before clapping mockingly Eric’s way. “Nice throw, Roundear! You almost have the makings of a Javelineer. Almost.” His mocking smile twisted into a furious snarl. “You’ve made a mockery of our weapons and our ways long enough, sworn foe of my kind. I challenge you to a Trial of Combat!” he roared, slamming the butt of a poleaxe upon the flagstones below. “Let’s end this farce between us here and now!”

Eric to his own surprise felt his lips curl in a fierce smile.

He didn’t care that the massive courtyard was now empty, or that he could spot a dozen crimson sigils laid out in an intricate pattern around the chieftan glowing with a pulsating fusion of blood and arcane magic that seemed to be part and parcel to the shamanistic path.

As insane as it was, at that moment Eric craved nothing more than to test himself against the chieftain now radiating so much power below.

“What are the terms?” His voice echoed oddly through the air.

“This province itself, boy! If you win? It’s yours, do with it whatever the hell you will! But you let my surviving men go. They’ll be leaving the east coast of your former country with the first caravan leaving Freetown and will interfere no further with your sister’s bid for the throne. If they dare to stab you in the back after our fight, they will be deemed oath-breakers to my clan. This, I, Chief Tovrig, do so swear!”

The massive orc’s lips stretched into a wide, feral grin. “If I win, however, your corpse, and your possessions are mine.”

Eric gazed at the orc for long moments. “The weapons on my person alone. All that which Blue Corp is custodian over goes to my sister, and no one else.”

The orc snorted. “Done and done.”

“You’re on,” Eric said, surprised to hear his lips speaking almost of their own accord.

But not nearly as surprised as he was to see Chief Valeg leaping for the battlements with the same mastery of his form that Eric had begun to exhibit, as multiple stats began to soar past 100.

“Then fight, boy!” The orc roared, charging Eric with a speed that would have spelled Eric’s death, even just a handful of days ago.

Iado skill check made!

But not today, it seemed, the air ringing with the sound of enchanted steel poleaxe and mithril dachi meeting in the bind.

And if the chieftain’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the priceless treasure being revealed, it was nothing compared to Eric, forced to face for the first time in a very long time that any opponent could possibly beat him in the bind, leveraging his two-handed blade off line, the orc roaring and snarling before blasting off his cloven hoof to plow forward with the deadly sharp axe spike streaking through the air for Eric’s abdomen.

Only to snarl when Eric immediately disengaged and leaped back, only to find himself desperately struggling to deflect a furious barrage of powerful overhand blows, knowing damn well that if even one hit him full force, it would shatter the bones beneath his indestructible mail, no matter his normally remarkable stats.

Because he sure as hell wasn’t feeling remarkable now, he thought, steadily giving ground before the monsters showcasing just how absolutely deadly an eight fool long poleaxe in the hands of a nine foot monster with maximum reach and leverage advantage could truly be.

Skill check made! You have successfully parried Deadly Barrage!

You have partially countered Deadly Barrage!

You have taken 2 Medium Wounds! (muscle contusions) your clavicle and forearm save versus shattering!

You have successfully dodged Cleaving Blow!

Eric’s eyes widened in genuine alarm, heart pounding a staccato beat of growing dread as the brownstone battlements exploded in stony shrapnel.

Eric locked eyes with the coldly smiling killer before him and new instantly that this monster was no fool, despite his savagery. He had the advantage of reach and leverage with a polearm compared to a sword, even a sword as sweet as Eric’s own. What’s more, he was using weapon feats Eric didn’t dare with a fifty pound mithril blade. And as for cultivation attacks… the only outlet left for the furious surges of potency Eric had no choice but to claim had been mastering the darkest of Terran magics, which had done his cultivation base on favors.

All of which meant that he was now up 14 titanic tuskers and a handful of reserve orcish revenants, revenants even now striking his distracted foe from angles unseen… but Qi attacks and weapon feats were both off the table.

All Eric had at his disposal were the resources on him and his skill with the blade in his hands.

The chieftan flashed a mocking smile, his wicked bardiche moving in serpentine moulinets all around his form. “Now you finally understand. You’re song ends here, Elf. You have no hope against one such as I.”

Eric dipped his head. “Because you’ve bound your soul to all your surviving classers. Yes. I can tell.”

The chieftain’s eyes widened. “And you would fight me still? Are you truly such a fool? Or just so arrogant that you think being born with a prince’s privilages is enough to assure your victory? Ha! My skills were earned on the field of blood and battle! I fought and killed and forged my destiny with my own two hands!”

Eric flashed a chill smile as he slowly resheathed his blade. “For that alone, I respect you. In that alone, we are the same.”

The wart-covered countenance of the monstrous chieftain flashed an ugly grin. “And you would sheathe your blade when I an effortlessly cleave you in half? Your overwheening arrogance knows no bounds! I can only assume that it was by luck alone that you survived this long, no one thinking you would truly be stupid enough to dare half the madness of this night. And the fact that you were is the only reason why you have survived this long.” The orc’s mocking smile turned to a hate-filled snarl. “Well I have news for you, half-blood! Your luck ends here and now!”

Yet for all his furious bluster, the orc held his poleaxe in Crown guard but refused to advance for long moments, glaring at a coldly smiling Eric, beady red eyes clawing at his own, as if desperate for some secret, some tell.

Some justification for Eric’s mad daring.

Eric didn’t bother responding by word or deed as the pressure built between them.

Though his heart did lurch in his chest, knowing that one way or another, one of their lives would end in a short handful of seconds.

“Why don’t you strike, maggot?” Roared the chieftain.

Find Weakness Skillcheck made! You have spotted the weaknesses within Chief Valeg’s Crimson Ward!

Eric locked gazes with Valeg for long seconds, finally deigning to reply. “Because I’m waiting for my revenants to finish butchering the shaman you think so cleverly hidden in the tunnels underneath the keep.

Valeg’s eyes widened in surprise, quickly transforming to fury.

And in that instant, Eric struck.

Doom Flurry!

In the blink of an eye, the air was alive with the flash of mithril and steel as the midnight sky’s glorious patina of luminescent nebulai and stars twinkling all the colors of the rainbow revealed itself once more under clouds blown away by a sharp autumn breeze, the air redolant with the scents of blood, sweat, fury and fear as Eric and Valeg fought a desperate battle for their lives.

The orc’s furious wheezes and devastating swings punctuated the night with the sounds of flagstones exploding under the force of the blows.

The sound of mithril was far more subtle, the whisper of impossible sharpness cutting through fabric, flesh and bone, occasionally punctuated by the rain-like patter of scores of steel links sparkling upon the flagstones like metallic rain.

It was a desperate fight for survival itself that humbled Eric as he arched his back, just barely avoiding a lethal swing before his foe paled and stumbled, unable to recover quite as fast as he had just minutes ago, his arms covered in countless bleeding cuts, and to his credit, the monster’s grip didn’t slacken even once.

Not even when he crashed to his knees, eyes going wide with a despairing groan as the last of his entrails slipped free of the devastating series of disemboweling cuts that would have decided the fight minutes ago, had Eric’s nemesis not been saturated the the strength and agony of a hundred men who’s life forces Eric sensed being drained dry at an ever quickening pace.

“Well, arrogant pup? Finish me off!” The chieftain flashed a bitter smile, all his weight now on the shaft as he continued slumping to the ground. “You know you want to. Come! I see the way your muscles tremble. Daring a weapon master’s feat with mithril. Ha! Again you show what a fool you are. By rights you shouldn’t even be moving after that.”

“Yet I am,” Eric noted, his voice cold as the grave.

The orc gave a bitter chuckle that turned to an agonized moan. “Yes, you are.”

The massive orc’s eyes then rolled back as he collapsed in a heap by Eric’s feet.

Eric, leaping back, immediately applauded. “Bravo. You’re almost as bad an actor as I am!” He smirked as the tiles by his feet exploded when the roaring chieftain, eyes glittering with unfathomable hate, managed one final grasp and swing of his weapon, obliterating the spot where Eric had been standing, before keeling over it truth.

“You little shit!” The orc gasped and wheezed. “You played us from the—“

You have critically struck your opponent with thrown pilum!

Javelin Throwing is now Rank 17!

Swordsmanship is now Rank 23!

Congratulations! You have successfully slain 100 or more enemy soldiers in a single battle with your throwing spears!

You have earned the Advanced Title: Primal Warrior! - You’re a fierce defender of your tribe and it shows, with +5 to Strength, Finesse, and Perception! Your spears fly 15% faster and farther than they otherwise would, and your weapons almost always find their mark!

All Javelin and Spear skills (melee and ranged) are learned 15% faster!

The Primal Hunter Class is now open to you! Tribal Warrior and Tribal Defender classes are now open to you!