Destiny Abound

The Etrian world is composed of two types of people- winners and losers, most of them... losers.


Warning: I do not own Etrian Odyssey and the writing may contain some explicit language and gore. ...Enjoy!

Chapter 2 of 2.

The battlefield was not meant to be a game, but here the landsknecht and her party of five, existed, willed and bound by destiny to explore the labyrinth. They were in it for life.

Many explorers came willingly, some eager, but they had little to no choice, if any, and they had to press on no matter what. Fenrir, the alpha-wolf and strongest monster of Emerald Grove, was awaiting them, and it would be crucial and a critical component in advancing onward. They would have to advance, and if not, relive it until the very end.

More than five Skolls, namely the alpha-wolf's pack and lackeys, advanced, and the party knew they were coming. The Skolls always came, but when and where and how many at a time, were the most concerning questions.

Anton, their protector, was especially careful. The man had an eye for detail, one eye exactly. He had lost his left-eye braving a Ragelope alone, in which the large man assumed was just an ordinary deer. Little did Anton know of its immense strength before the deer skewered half of his face, gouging his left-eye with it, and trampling him half to death.

Even under all that armor, everyone could see that Anton shook with great uneasiness, and sometimes pure dread and terror under the horrors of the labyrinth. His one eye scanned fervently among the trees and grasses, scouting for Skolls, and his shield pointed outwards.

Behind him was their medic, Janise. A cute, little flower, and Anton's beloved younger sister. Truly, she was a rambunctious little girl, who made the large man Anton appear smaller than his already mountainous frame and height. Although Anton protested her from participating within the labyrinth, she insisted. And when she insisted, she insisted, and she always got what she wanted.

Rocco was another case. The dark-hunter proved most useful in most cases, but often disappeared in combat, and frequently claimed he was cloaked. Fortunately, that was not the case. Rocco struck the first blow, binding an incoming Skoll by its feet.

The howls begun, and a Skoll lunged behind the landsknecht. The landsknecht came prepared this time. Only cool air swiped her back as she pivoted sideways and swung horizontally. The momentum of her movement carried her body into an arc, and her axe sliced and smashed thickly against the Skoll's head, sending the beast spiraling into a tree. Impacting on the trunk, the wolf hollered painfully, while many fallen leaves fluttered into the air.

An aroma of leaves, cinnamon, and apples blanketed the atmosphere, but the landsknecht's eyes never left the Skoll. The wolf shook off the deep injury, like a wet dog shaking off water, and retracted on its hind-legs, readied.

The landsknecht tightened her legs, and with an axe so wide and weighty, she balanced herself more on her center of gravity, and gripped her axe more strongly, more robustly. Her heels and toes dug in and out of the dirt, bouncing skyward energetically, and her limbs pulsated with a fiery intensity that shot straight and up through her veins.

The two encroached, and encircled each other.

She struck the first, crushing blow. Her strike was strong, swift, and sturdy, and the strike slammed under her well-toned and exposed, striated arms, while the heavy weight of her axe sent ripples of kinetic energy through her hardened abdominal pecs and into the tough hide and upper-body of the wolf. Her chest clenched, perking and steadily in motion as the attack connected and ceased.

The blow pulverized through the wolf's bones and body, and gashed a wound so extensively that the Skoll's intestines oozed out smoother than a wine dispenser, and left the wolf stunned, dying.

However, unlike most other Skolls, the persistent Skoll reanimated itself, and its broken eye and guts still dangled loosely as it arose. The landsknecht spat disgusted, ruffling her nose from the putrid smell of organs and involuntary feces, and tried not to think of anything else that would make her stomach or mind feel remotely more ill.

The Skoll took an even riskier approach, this time, carelessly throwing itself straight at her. She braced herself, blocking the brunt of the impact, but realized how it clenched fixedly at her axe instead. Its hazy, dying eyes displayed intelligence, tactical, and thinking eyes. It must've been Fenrir's chief assistant, no doubt, she concluded.

Before she knew it, a second Skoll clawed at her back, shredding pieces of her leather armor and rupturing exposed skin.

"Fuck!" she heard, her attention diverted to the voice.

Their alchemist was pinned by another Skoll, while Anton, Janise, and Rocco fended off two more nearby wolves.

The landsknecht vertically slashed her elbow hard against the dead, grasping Skoll's jugular to release her axe, and hacked at the other wolf behind her before rushing to the alchemist's aid.

Heaving her bloodied axe again, her weapon slammed against the Skoll on top of the alchemist, unseating its jaw, and toppling off the beast above him. Tears streamed down the alchemist's face and he looked up at her shakily, but her focus drew back to the other recovering Skoll.

A mischievous glint shimmied through the Skoll's eyes, an observation she took note of the creatures, and the wolf dashed forward. She side-stepped, mentally aware of any more ambushes, but the Skoll did not aim for her. It skidded passed her form, sprung onto the alchemist's body, and gazed. The landsknecht nor the alchemist had the chance to react. The Skoll ripped out the alchemist's throat. With little resistance, the alchemist's life-energy left him, and he went limp, dead.
Anton swung blindly, wildly, both his eyes now punctured and bleeding out. A Skoll was latched up from his back, and painfully gnawed down through his armor, skin, and bones. While he fought so valiantly, several Skolls leaped, and pounced, and ravaged Janise.

The powerless girl toppled over, and flailed in complete desperation and misery as she was torn, limb from limb, thrown around, and mutilated like a rag-doll, and her anguished screams and frightened whimpers reverberated through the forest.

Large man Anton, the protector, cried out frenziedly, unable to unlatch the wolf from his backside, or reach her in time, and he staggered up and over in utter hysteria. And Rocco, the bastard, was no where to be seen.

By the time the landsknecht reached the girl, the medic, was already dead. Two wolves were scattered, dead, and Anton, was kneeling down weeping quietly, holding his lifeless sister's hands and body. The man took his own life. Anton flung himself at the Skolls until his entire body was covered by the wolves, and he lay there a crumpling carcass of chain-mail and leather garments.

The landsknecht slain another incoming wolf in disgust, until a whip cackled from behind her, saving her from a fatal swipe of another Skoll.

Anger welled up and bubbled from inside of her, especially from the timing of the dark-hunter, Rocco. Her mind berated the man, questioning, how he could leave a defenseless medic so fickle-natured, yet save her skin, when she herself wasn't so vulnerable?

She furrowed in utter irritation and dismissed the man.

The landsknecht, however, did not notice how grave the man's wounds actually were. The dark-hunter, too, was covered in more bruises than herself, and deep lacerations etched from his torso, arms, and legs. Rocco was in terrible form, and even cloaking could not save him from a Skoll's impeccable sense of smell. The mocha-skinned hunter smiled somberly, knowingly, as he knew the fate of their medic, protector, and alchemist.

The two fought endlessly, boundlessly, until only one Skoll remained, and Rocco could go no longer. His body could not take any more of the pain. With the last of his strength, he binded the last of the Skolls, and pleaded the landsknecht to finish it. She ended the creature.

As the last party member standing, she looked around her party of five, all gone, dead in tatters and injuries. Bodies scattered in an air of demise. There she saw the hellish grin and shadowy figure of Fenrir staring back at her, ahead. She collapsed on the ground, no warp-wire, no alternatives, no hope from ever escaping such relentless massacre from re-occurring again. She whispered, her last, desolate, and saddened words before being delivered the final blow, "Game over."

...

In a room, a boy sits comfortably, completely still and relaxed, and a device in his hands that reads, 'Load Game'.


A/N: Hoped you enjoyed my two-shot! For those prior to this chapter thinking, what the heck is going on? Haah!