The Painted World
I sighed, or what could pass for a sigh in my current state. Undeath allowed me to not need to take breath, yet still I find myself often partaking in the action. Whether due to the forgotten memory of what it was like to be alive once, or in part due to a subconscious need to prove to myself that I am not just some shambling corpse, that I have needs that simple acts tend to. Perhaps it was due to the curiosity in the drawn world of seeing the mist everytime I spoke, and the White Dancer kindly explaining to me what the mists origin was.
These thoughts were of no matter and served more as distractions than aid to me. The being standing in front of me, kindly allowing me to stare hatefully at the figure from my position kneeling. The mockery of a face on the mask they wore staring back.
They appeared to take note of my anger, they rose their arms out. "Well, what is it?" Came the question, extending from one side of the bridge to the other.
I regarded them with angered eyes, upon their back was a small shield, in their hands they held an ultra-greatsword loosely. Excluding the mask they wore thick heavy armour.
"What do you want invader?" I asked. For that's what they were, an invader, a stranger. An exaggerated shrug returned as answer.
I raised, bringing to bear sword and shield against my foe. This...battle...had been ongoing for the last hour or so, time is a curious thing in Vala, its passage is confusing. Three steps could take hours and battles could take seconds but we would not know for in our pursuit of our goals we'd pay it no mind.
The 'battle' as it were consisted of me dodging this madman's strikes and trying to get them to answer a damned question. In any lapse the man would ask 'Well, what is it?' and shrug at any question I asked them. Even Kay-Vin, the Blight Dragon and his relentless spawn were not this infuriating to question or kill. Nao the Mirrorwalker however...
The man swung his sword again, I rolled under it, the sword slammed into the ground where I once was. The impact of the overhead swing kicking up any settled dust or dirt. I stopped and spun once I finished the roll.
"Well, what is it?"
I glared back. "Art thou mentally unstable, or very simple minded?" I queried the other undead.
A shrug returned.
This oaf appeared to be doing their damndest to enrage me.
They swung again, I dodged again, although this time I challenged him.
"Well, what is it!" I yelled at them only to find them now waving at me. Truly the strangest thing I hath encountered thus far. Then they shrugged again. My patience had come to an end. They swung again only this time I did not roll, I did not dodge. I waited and parried the attack, sending the sword to the side, then I impaled them on my sword. Running them through.
I did not stop there though. I forced them to topple over, the sword impaling into the bridge, holding the invader down. I pushed, sending the sword deeper. At that moment, as they struggled to wrench the sword keeping the down I drew my shortsword and started hacking off their head. Stabbing, mutilating until head and neck separated from shoulders. As the body was fading away, I heard one last thing.
"...Git gud..."
Truly, some deserve to go hollow.
I wrote this today I guess, though at one in the morning so once I woke up I could not remember for the life of me why I decided to write a Giantdad invader. Or what possessed me to think it was a good idea.
Eh, it's something though.