[MGE] Thrill of the Fight

Part 1: The Skirmish
---
The adventurer was wandering on the outskirts of town towards his destination. It was a supply depot, one of the many important facilities that kept the locals alive with rationed food and drink. The territory has been at war for as long as he could remember and reminds him that such tragedies were just another fact of life. As he strode on his horse on the gravel path, he recollects that his quest was to investigate the recent raids on one of the supply depots. He muses that these are either more run-of-the-mill bandits or monsters of the forest. Either way, he has been certified to use lethal force if he encounters them. Carefully, he checks his equipment in his backpack and rummages through its contents to make sure all of it was accounted for. He also pats his weapons down to satisfy his own self-security in case a scuffle were to happen. He nods in agreement that his claymore at his side, his short-sword holstered at his back, and several daggers hidden within his leather bandolier are all present. After he checks off his list, he travels down the path with modest confidence.

The partly cloudy skies overcast several shadows upon the ground and block the sun for the good part of the afternoon. As the adventurer spotted the depot in the distance, he observed that there were several noises and shadows moving about beyond the forest growth. He slipped off his horse and tied the horse's reigns to a post far away from the site in case of any loud noises scarring his steed off.

After sliding off the horse, the adventurer took off his back-pack and laid it on the soft ground alongside his horse and silently made his way to the supply depot. The adventurer picked a spot to spy on the intruders and made a note of their number and strength. He crept along the walls of the depot away from the noise but getting ever so closer to a spot where he could observe them.

Once he found an optimal spot, an overgrown bush with several trees around it, he laid down stomach-first into the fresh grass.

An encampment of 3 P'Orcs, an Ogre, a Troll, an Imp, a Succubus, and a Familiar are seen sitting on a couple of makeshift beds and talking to one another.

"I wish we got paid more to do this job! This is such a boring role...we are pillaging a place where food is stored when we could be pillaging some villages for some men!" declared the Imp.

"...but I'm hungry..." cries one of the P'Orcs, the other P'Orcs squealing in concern.

The Succubus responds with "we'll get our share once we get the payload from this place. Maybe later we'll be compensated for our efforts!"

This earns a few laughs and cheers from the other monsters.

The adventurer begins to prepare his method of attack: either confront them directly and assault their casters or stealthily incapacitate several of them and confuse their ranks. He chooses the latter and retreats back into the forest to set up his ambush.

"I still wonder why she even assigned us this job in the first place. It's quite meaninglessness to raid a place if there's no one defending it" the Imp contemplates aloud.

Once again, the Succubus responds with "I told you already! Once we-"

An arrow whistles forth from the dimly lit forest and hits her squarely in the back. She crumples to the ground and everyone's eyes grow wide.

"Uh...uh..um..." as the Imp fumbles her words, another arrow shoots from the darkness and hits a P'Orc in the leg.

The P'Orc squeals in agony as an arrow is lodged in her ankle and desperately tries to get it out. She huddles onto the dirt floor and nurses her now injured leg. She eventually passes out from the trauma and floats to unconsciousness.

The Imp conjures a foggy mist as she immediately teleports away from the hidden threat.

When the other monsters start getting up, a gurgling noise can be heard from one of the bushes. After it suddenly stops, everyone notices that the Troll is missing. One of the P'Orcs hesitantly approaches the bush that emitted the noise. She reels back in horror as the Troll has been choked into an immobile state. All the monsters still remaining look at each other in deep worry and begin to brandish their weapons.

The Ogre that was quiet since the ordeal started, turned furious as her comrades are falling left and right. She charges to a nearby tree and begins pummeling it to intimidate the ambusher. The Familiar runs away crying, afraid that she will be next to succumb to her uncertain death. The two remaining P'Orcs follow the Ogre and spread around the perimeter to look for the sniper, holding out their crude, wooden clubs.

A rustle is heard nearby in one of the bushes and out pops the adventurer, claymore in both hands and slashes downwards at one of the P'Orcs. The P'Orc barely registered the flash of silver closing in on her and clumsily parries the sword away from her with her club. She is immediately kicked in the stomach by the adventurer and hits her back onto a tree behind her with a great force and knocks the wind out of her, which makes her feel lightheaded.

The other P'Orc screams at the adventurer, unknowingly telegraphing her distance away from his peripheral hearing. With the whistle of the club at his immediate right, he dodges and tries to riposte her fruitless attack, only for the P'Orc to parry his own. She responds with a swipe at his body, to which he deflects most of the club's weight away and rolls along with its momentum.

As he side-rolls away, the rampaging Ogre charges at him and knocks him off-balance, his claymore flying several meters from the impact and clanging angrily on the ground. As he struggles to gain his footing, a sharp pain connects with his upper-body. The Ogre has just kicked him and the adventurer becomes dizzy from the blow. He coughs up a few droplets of blood and regrets that he could have some of his ribs cracked; the hard leather in his armor just barely saving him from having his rib-cage imploding.

The recovering P'Orc that was kicked onto the tree begins to align her sights at the downed adventurer and accelerates towards him in a blind fury.

The adventurer rapidly gains his bearings and sparks an idea.

The Ogre, taking pride in downing the man, doesn't notice that the adventurer silently pulls out a dagger from his leather bandolier and slashes one of her ankles from beneath her. She hollers out in pain and attempts to stomp on the guy's head like a watermelon, but he rolls out of the way and shakily gets back up.

The injured P'Orc swings her mighty club at the wavering adventurer's shoulder with the intention to seriously maim him after his brief skirmish with her prior. The guy quickly takes out his short-sword from his back-holster and clashes with the heavy club, sending it away from his shoulder while simultaneously poised for a feint attack to intimidate her. She expectantly recoils from his well-timed feint and tests her again with another feint aimed at her arm. She backs away from him and then hurls her weapon towards his neck but does not anticipate him ducking right after and closing the distance between them so rapidly.

The adventurer stabs her in her side and hears the club fall next to him. She drops to the ground with a thud and the adventurer then searches for the Ogre only to have his vision swirl once more as he receives a glancing blow at the side of the head.

He begins seeing stars but forces himself upright. The Ogre, although her image is blurry and disoriented, barrels towards him. He throws a dagger at her, only for it to miss the mark at a wide margin.

Intending to put an end to the farce, the Ogre comes up to tackle him, only for the man to push himself out of the way.

The adventurer runs towards his claymore and readies his posture towards the hulking heathen.

She charges him again and tries to swipe at his head. This time, he takes several steps away from the winded blow and uses that momentum to twirl around and let loose his claymore at the unprotected flesh of the Ogre. A huge amount of blood wells up from the cut of the sword and the Ogre lets out a deafening cry. The strike from the sword also causes the Ogre to be knocked back, which displays a shining opportunity to the adventurer as he charges forth and deals the killing blow.

He pierces her stomach. The cries of the Ogre suddenly coming to a halt.

From the Ogre's mouth erupts a small torrent of blood.

"Did you really think...you could win against all of us...you pathetic human..." spouts the dying Ogre.

"She will take revenge upon us...and smite you down..."

"...pray that...she takes pity...on...you..."

The Ogre collapses, leaving a thick pool of viscous red liquid.

The adventurer blinks several times and decides to head towards his horse to bandage himself up.


...


"...My liege. An adventurer has routed our encampment and laid waste to our soldiers."

"Is that so? Just a single adventurer?"

"That is true, I take it that you wanted that base under our control?"

"It would have helped our cause, yes, but, that is the reality of war. You win some, you lose some."

"I...see..."

"Hmm...I shall test this 'adventurer' and see if he truly is the monster you account him for."

"Are you sure he is worth your time, my liege?"

"Maybe, maybe not...this administration work is killing me.
I crave the thrills of fighting...and it is this desire that grows more and more with each passing day.
I truly hope that this 'adventurer' does not disappoint my efforts.
I will ride out as soon as my steed is ready."

"Very well, my liege."

The Imp performs a curtsy towards the dark figure and the shadow smiles ever-so-slightly to the upcoming fight.


...


Part 2: The True Fight
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Several weeks later, the adventurer is out on another quest set up by the locals. The contents of the quest claimed that there was an incident a fair way out from the supply depot involving a caravan attacked from an unknown presence. The survivors escaped the threat but the goods within the caravan were unfortunately demolished. The strange thing about the briefing from the quest is that the presence did not attack the merchants.

The adventurer looks up towards the forest and paces himself on his horse.  He disappears into gravel path once more and trusts his gut feeling that this may be an ambush.

He checks his weapons, armor, and equipment to ensure that he won’t be going into battle short-handed. When all is well, he follows the path towards his destination, paranoid that the threat might jump him at any second.

Suddenly, he spots a shadow in the distance coming towards him and his horse. He dismounts and calls out to the shadow to make sure he wasn’t being delusional at this time of day.

Once more he calls out, only for the shadow to make no response and continue its way towards him.

His eyes grow wider as he spots certain characteristics of this shadow.

It was gleaming, but not unlike any armor he has seen in his life. It was slick black, with several protruding spikes poking out from the shoulders. The shadow, now becoming more apparent under the dim shading of the tree-tops, had long blonde hair that reached all the way down past her shoulders. She was wielding a grim-looking sword and a similar heater shield carrying the crest of the Demon Lord.

The most peculiar detail about this unknown figure was that there was minimal armor covering its chest area and practically no decent covering along her crotch area.

By then, the adventurer realized this was another monster as a spade-tail followed the pace of this figure.

He slowly procures his claymore from his side-holster and readies his stance to face it.

A bead of sweat begins to accumulate along the side of his head and realizes that something is truly wrong.

The figure suddenly stops several meters away from the man. It was imposing indeed, the atmosphere of the situation now tense as the adventurer awaits in anticipation.

The thing finally speaks.

“Are you the one who slaughtered my soldiers a few weeks back?” inquires the armored being.

“Yes, in fact, I did. Why might you ask?” responds the adventurer in kind.

“While they did not mean much to me, you foiled my plans on capturing this town.”

“Just part of my job. I don’t see how you and the other monsters are any different from pillagers or bandits.”

“Well then. As the Demon Lord is my witness, I am spreading the goodwill of her majesty so that man will learn to love rather than to spread hatred and death. It’s part of my job, too” the figure relaxes its posture, slightly lessening the oppressive tension.

“...If I may ask, what, or who, might you be? I don’t recall ever seeing someone like you before...ever” the adventurer postulates, bringing down his sword to relax his muscles.

“I am Sylvania the II, but you can call me Sylvie, one of the Vanguards for the Demon Lord’s army. I have seen many wars fought against mankind and monster alike. A few years ago, I’ve been granted knighthood for my battle prowess. Have you ever heard of a Dark Knight?”

“No. Can’t say I have. I’ve never heard of someone like you or from anyone else.”

“Well, I’m still a Succubus at heart, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight like a man such as you. Tell me about yourself, adventurer” asks Sylvie, re-adjusting her stance so as to make herself comfortable.

“My name is Hunter. Hunter Bennett. I’ve been a mercenary for a good chunk of my life. Traveling from town to town just to scrape by. I’ve been taught by several sword-masters from an adventurer’s guild to fight in non-conventional methods...been to several battles since I was conscripted for 4 years to serve the King of this land. Still, it’s mostly been either bandits, vagrants, thieves, or monsters that make up my journey thus far.”

“I see. Well it is time for a true test of might. Don’t you say? I’ve been bored these past few months and want someone to satisfy my pent-up lust.”

Sylvie smiles smugly at Hunter and raises her cruel greatsword with confidence while also keeping her shield in a defensive stance.

Hunter lift his claymore up and readies himself.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Don’t make a woman wait” she calls to him lasciviously, awaiting some sort of response from Hunter.

The adventurer sighs and charges forward.

Sylvie lifts her shield up and blocks the flurry of hits that Hunter throws, easily deflecting the weight of each blow. After several hits, she throws him off with a parry from the shield, leaving him open for a hit from her greatsword, which she prepares to stab at his chest.

Hunter ducks out of the way and tries to trip her legs in order to get the upper-hand. Sylvie’s blackish blue eyes anticipates this sudden movement in his posture and steps away from his upcoming low-blow.

She readies her mighty greatsword to cleave at his leg to which Hunter swing his claymore upwards. As this happens, a loud clash of swords rings out causing both contenders to recoil from the hits. Sylvie tries to bash Hunter with her shield and successfully does so, earning a grunt from Hunter as he stumbles to the ground.

He quickly gets back up, slightly fatigued from his previous attack. This time he poses himself into a defensive stance, concentrating on Sylvie’s miniscule movements as she hurdles towards him at break-neck speed.

Hunter is slightly taken aback at the speed of this Succubus and stills his respirations. While she comes at him like a jouster, Hunter twirls in momentum to meet Sylvie’s shield with his silver claymore.

He ducks under Sylvie’s greatsword and bashes his own with her heater shield causing Sylvie to be slightly knocked back from the impact.

However, what Hunter did not expect was that she recovered a lot quicker. Cursing her monstrous traits and his inability to anticipate her under his breath, Sylvie chants a spell.

Hunter quickly dashes backwards to distance himself from what she might attack him with.

An aura begins to emanate from her armor. A black, hazy, and somewhat foggy substance is starts covering her and the greatsword she wields starts to emit an unholy purplish glow.

She stops chanting her spell and readies herself towards him once more.

Hunter tests this spell by reaching into his bandolier for a dagger and hurling it towards Sylvie.

What came next shocked Hunter.

Sylvie sliced the dagger in two with her great sword, splitting his projectile and impacting the ground next to her.

“It that all you got? We’ve barely even started! Surely, you must have something up your sleeve” taunts Sylvie as she accelerates towards Hunter.

While Hunter did not have inhuman strength like Sylvie has, he did have an unorthodox way of defeating opponents stronger than him.

He charges forth, but this time tries to spear at her impenetrable defense rather than slashing at it. He simultaneously switches from his claymore to his shortsword at his back, losing his claymore in the process as it harmlessly bounces off of the knight’s armor as if it were nothing. Sylvie attempts to cut at his exposed shoulder, but due to the shift in Hunter’s weight, Hunter’s reaction speed became slightly faster than Sylvie’s cutting speed. This allows Hunter to side-step her and almost cut her neck, to which Sylvie only manages to get away from the last second with a cut under her cheekbone.

The tar-colored substance immediately dissipates due to her regenerative abilities.

As a response, she dashes towards him, this time away from his peripherals, almost like she disappeared from his sight.

Like a repeat of few weeks ago, Hunter calms himself and listens to the fast-falls of Sylvie.

As if it were a stroke of luck, he side-steps out of Sylvie’s range, lets go of his shortsword, and disarms her greatsword by using her momentum and carrying her arm over his shoulder and throwing her onto the ground.

He quickly takes this moment to grab a dagger out of his leather bandolier and stab at her exposed neck, but instead receives a gauntlet to the face, which cracks his nose and cuts his lower lip.

Hunter is sent several meters backwards and becomes dazed, worrying that his nose might be dislocated. He hold his hand carefully over his face and touches his nose, noticing that his nose is fine, but the impact from Sylvie’s gauntlet might leave him with a slight concussion.

“Impressive for a human, I’d wager that if you became an Incubus, you can serve as a very powerful vassal for my lord, dear Hunter.”

Sylvia was already up from her recently downed position. She takes off her shield and grabs her greatsword to prepare the final attack.

Hunter wipes the fresh blood from his nose and lips and holds his shortsword with both hands in a confident stance. Hoping to finish this battle once and for all, they both stare at each other in a stand-off.

Hunter, labored by his own breathing, calms his nerves and formulates a plan to anticipate Sylvia’s attacks.

They finally end the stalemate by going at each other at full force.

The echoes of clashing steel and silver reverberate across the forest grounds. It was not until Hunter slips from the loose dirt on the ground that Sylvia pushes to the offensive with Hunter forced to take several steps back to match her pacing.

It was already clear who would win the battle, it was only a matter of stalling.

Hunter lets out a cry in frustration upon the revelation that he could not match Sylvia’s raw strength and swordsmanship.

He flings another dagger after he tries to deflect another of Sylvia’s slashing attacks. She cuts the thrown dagger into an even split. He throws another, she splices it as well. Another and another until he runs out.

“While you may have been above average, you still have a long way to go until you can outmatch me.” Sylvia mocks the adventurer, to Hunter’s chagrin.

“Come, and I will let you see other-worldly desires beyond your mortal imagination. Something that humans don’t dare to tread because they are too scared or cowardly to make the first step” Sylvia grins at Hunter.

Hunter looks at the ground and then at the monster in front of him.

He proceeds to run at her and take a swipe at her stomach. She deflects the sword away from his hand and stabs her greatsword right through his hard leather armor.

Hunter crumples to the floor.

She takes out her greatsword from her victim, however, no traces of blood are found on the blade.

“You fought to the bitter end, Hunter. Now, I’ll be taking what’s mine.”

As Hunter’s eyes grew heavy, he lulls into a deep sleep.