We’re getting closer to the end. If you haven’t made it this far, just wait until I’m finished. Shouldn’t be too much longer. Thanks to those that have consistently read and commented. I’m sorry to have let you all down by dragging it out this long.
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Playing: Part XV ©
To call the man looming above the two entangled shield walls “big” was putting it pretty mild, Chris thought. The avatar’s size was, in his opinion, and quite frankly, nearer the ridiculously gigantic. A chill drove its way up Chris’ spine as he watched several men with shields and poleaxes being driven backwards by the giant of a man. He wondered why he’d never encountered this particular avatar before, but hundreds of different teams played at different times and in different leagues all over Neverland 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The Battle of Seven Tribes usually brought out a few that Chris had never encountered, but they were never quite so obviously different as Peter Semetrovich’s avatar.
“Neal?”
“Yeah, Chris. I’m here.”
“Okay. I’m doing this. The safe room is up and running, right?”
Neal chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, man. I got your back on this one. Something goes wrong, I’ll be here to catch you when you fall.”
“Not exactly the pep talk I was looking for, Neal, but what the hell? Here goes nothing.”
Chris pushed the rest of the way to the front of the shield wall. He noticed with a smirk, as he looked around him that he was the only one in the front line without some sort of pole arm. A man with eyes set too far apart for Neal’s liking glanced at him, down at his short sword, and then at his ruined shield. Christian read the sarcastic question in the man’s eyes and on the expression on his face, looked furtively at the Goliath swinging a long battle axe just feet from him, and shrugged.
The man with the wide set eyes looked suddenly up and away from Chris’ pathetic arms, and Chris shifted his gaze in time to see the giant turn his attention on their particular row. He watched the shoulders turn, the hips pivot, and the blade of the axe come slicing in his direction. The arc-ended blade plowed into the shield of the man to his left, and despite the low stance of the shieldman, the blow landed with such force that Chris found himself toppling over. Chris was thankful he hadn’t had to absorb the blow himself, but the man who had so graciously taken it was now laying squarely on top of him, and he on top of the man with wide set eyes. The blocking man’s steel helmet had collided with Chris’s, and he found that not only had the breath been driven from him, but his head was ringing like the antique bell tower in the Paladium.
Chris groaned and asked the blocking man if he was okay, and if he was would he mind getting off of him.
The steel helmet turned slightly and just enough so that Chris could see the man’s right eye. The eye was shot through with a spider’s web of blood, and a tiny trickle of red seeped out of his right nostril. Christian watched the blood in slow motion as it found a path from the man’s nose, over a pock marked cheekbone, where it caught a hair from the man’s sideburns, and fell in a single, oblong drop towards Christian’s waiting face. Chris blinked and felt the crimson drop splatter on his brow
. The one drop became many, mixed with Christian’s sweat, and ran in pink rivulets across his forehead.
“Oi!” The man whispered. “Shut yer hole, huh? If he thinks we’re dead already, maybe we can still get outta this fuckin’ thing alive.”
Christian opened his mouth to reply when the man’s expression changed.
“Who the hell are you anyway? Yer not in this outfit.”
The man’s breath was fouled with fermented drink, and bits of dark meat clung desperately in the spaces between his teeth. Christian could hardly concentrate on what was being said. He wanted the man off of him, and fast. He grunted with an effort to push the man up and off.
“Grrrgghhhet! The! Hell! OFF OF ME!” Christian shouted the last bit and pushed the stinking warrior up and off of him. He rolled over and scrambled to his feet, looking around at his surroundings. The man with the idiot’s eyes wasn’t moving, but Chris didn’t have time to concern himself with someone else’s clansman. He stepped over the unconscious man, snapped up his shield (he won’t be needing it), and turned to engage the frothing Goliath standing a few meters from him.
The entire battle seemed to have converged on this one man like a nexus point, a beacon calling a challenge to all the other armies. Christian darted in to the fray and began hacking away at the monster’s legs. The Goliath blocked and parried with surprising speed and cunning. Chris thought the avatar’s only advantage would be in brute force and overpowering his opponents. But the large man swatted down Chris’ blows like a monk swatting flies at prayer, all while he dealt with attacks from other fronts.
Chris’s strategy was barely getting him noticed. He needed a different way to get this troll’s attention, and as he looked down at his newly acquired shield, he thought he had his answer.
With a scream, Christian slung the wooden disk up and at the face of the Goliath. It turned to look in the direction of the shrieking noise that had arisen over the melee, and was caught fully on the nose piece of his helmet by the rim of the sailing shield. The eyes of Peter Semetrovich’s Goliath crossed and watered, and Chris had a momentary vision of himself standing atop the monster’s chest in a pose of victory. But then it shook its mighty head to clear its vision and brought a frightening gaze to bear on Chris. The other men standing near him seemed to shrink away, and the whole battlefield condensed all at once to the interaction between the two men standing and staring at each other.
The eyes were flat, carrying nothing resembling life, real or simulated. And the expression on the Goliath’s face seemed to relay neither anger or pain. It seemed almost. . . indifferent. Chris’ skin broke out in goose flesh, and the thought that he might piss himself floated through his mind like a feather on the wind.
The blow, when it came, was not at all what Chris expected. It wasn’t bad.
It was. . . unGodly.
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Thanks again for reading.
Kirk out.
