Chapter 39: The Stone Giant and the Black Mage

Without any further warning, and with more speed and agility than the paladin ever would have expected to see from such a large man, the stoneskinned giant launched the weighted end of his chain straight at Lexi. The paladin just barely got her sword up in time to block the hurtling iron sphere, intercepting it with the flat of her blade before it came crashing into her face. The raw power behind the blow was like nothing Lexi had experience so far in Fantasy Adventure Quest. It took every ounce of the paladin’s strength for her arms not to buckle from the impact, and she was actually driven back by the strike, her feet skidding in the leafy ground cover as she was forcibly driven backwards several feet by the huge man’s attack.

Fuck me! He’s ridiculously strong AND ridiculously fast.

As if reading Lexi’s mind, Ivan darted in towards Samantha with almost blinding speed, slashing at her with the sickle end of the kusarigama. The monk only just managed to sidestep the wickedly curved blade, following the line of Ivan’s attack with her own body to combine her dodge with an attack, driving her elbow viciously into his exposed ribs. Lexi’s hope rose, but were immediately crushed. Not only did the giant not even flinch from the monk’s powerful blow, but Samantha leaped back, clutching her elbow in a show of obvious and serious pain — the panic of having herself been the injured party in that exchange plain on her face.

Not wanting the monk’s attack to have been wasted, Lexi shot in quickly with a thrust from her broadsword, hoping to skewer the enormous man through the other side while his attention was on Samantha. Though the paladin’s thrust struck home, the tip connecting cleanly with the broad expanse of “flesh” just below his armpit, the jarring impact Lexi felt from her own attack was like trying to drive her sword into the side of a cliff. Her hands inadvertently slid up the handle, bucking up against the guard as the blade’s tip struck the incredibly hard and solid target, the impact nearly jarring the sword from Lexi’s grip. She did see that the stoneskin chipped slightly, but that was the extent of the “damage” inflicted by what should have been a grievous — if not mortal — blow.

What the actual fuck!? the paladin thought to herself when no system alert popped up into her peripheral view indicating that she had even scored a hit. If I can’t even knock down this fucker’s hit points with an attack like THAT, what the ever-loving-fuck are we even supposed to do?

“Bwahaha!” Ivan laughed, letting his gaze linger on each of the two fighters in turn. “A little harder than you were expecting, eh? Let me clue you in on a little something then, especially you blondie. My skin’s not the only part that gets hard.” The giant groped his crotch, grinning lewdly at Lexi. “Maybe I’ll show just how hard a big cock can be before we sell you at the market.”

“Eat shit motherf—” Lexi started to yelled.

Her train of insults was cut off before she even got started when Ivan hurled the sickle end of his kusarigama straight at Lexi. The giant’s blinding speed once again caught the paladin unawares, the blade cutting deeply into her upper leg, penetrating several inches into the well-muscled white thigh.

You’ve Been Hit!

-5 HP (30/35)

Before the paladin could even draw the breath needed to cry out either in pain or to level a curse at the gigantic fighter, Ivan gave the kusarigama’s chain a hard yank. Since the sickle blade was still lodged deeply in Lexi’s leg, this both pulled the leg out from underneath the paladin, and tore a deep ragged gash out of the original puncture as the blade was ripped free by the giant’s tug.

You’ve Been Hit!

-5 HP (25/35)

“Kyaaa!” Samantha’s battle cry resounded in Lexi’s ears, driving the blossoming pain temporarily from her mind. The monk swung her iron staff with every ounce of her considerable strength straight at Ivan’s head. Her corded muscles bulged under the brown skin as the staff made contact, the iron striking hard stone producing a deep resonating sound. It was not, however, the giant’s head with which the staff had connected. In the blink of an eye, he had somehow managed to get his massive stone-covered forearm in place to intercept the blow. To the utter shock and dismay of both girls, Ivan appeared to have suffered no apparent damage from even so mighty a blow. The only effect visible to Samantha was that a few more chips of stone fell from his forearm. Indeed, Samantha’s staff incurred more damage than he did, having bent at nearly a ninety degree angle around his arm at the point of impact.

“Feh!” the monk spat, hurling the ruined weapon to the ground.

It looked to Lexi, who was attempting — and failing — to get to her feet, that Samantha was about to try for another barehanded strike against Ivan. But, before the monk could do anything, he dropped into a low stance, his speed once again catching both the paladin and monk completely off guard, and delivered an absolutely brutal uppercut directly into Samantha’s side. Despite the automatic tensing of her thick wall of abdominal muscles from her decade of combat training, the monk felt several ribs crack from the sheer power the giant produced. The large warrior woman actually lifted off the ground and flew back several feet, landing in a crumpled heap on the forest floor.

“Bah!” Ivan laughed dismissively. “With that attitude you first came in with, I thought you two might be tough, but you’re just soft little girls. And, soft girls have no business trying to fight a hard man like me. The only thing you lot are good for is meat.”

Meanwhile, at the same time that Samantha and Lexi were struggling against Ivan, Sascha intended to make good on his task. The diminutive man lifted a single black robed arm menacingly in the elf maid’s direction. A tendril of black fabric, similar to that which covered his arms and hands, shot out like the writhing tentacle of some aquatic beast, wrapping itself tightly around her legs from ankles to knees. With her legs bound so tightly with such rapidity, the elf toppled at once, dropping her small knife in the jumble of leaves and arboreal debris into which she fell.

“Not on my watch, you creepy little fuck,” Gretel muttered under her breath.

Just as the black robed mage began to withdraw the fabric tendril, reeling the elf maid in like a fish caught on a line, Gretel intoned the magical command words needed to launch a volley of magic missiles at the diminutive figure. One after the other, three of the sizzling bolts of magical energy flew towards Sascha’s exposed back. With a quickness that was belied by his rather hunched and squat form, the black mage whipped his head around to face Gretel’s attack. The mask’s face, already grotesque, grew even more so — the mouth opening far wider than that of any human-sized being should, its jaw unhinging to reach halfway down the mage’s robed chest. Rather than connecting with Sascha’s back as Gretel had originally intended, each of the magic missiles was swallowed by the mask, disappearing into the black void and winking altogether out of sight.

“What!?” Gretel gasped, never having witnessed anything of the sort. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Before Gretel could think of what her next move should be, given this disastrous response to her favorite offensive spell, Sascha pointed the dangerous looking staff he clutched in his other hand straight at the pink haired mage. Gretel’s mouth formed a perfect “O” and her eyes grew wide as saucers when she saw that the staff was firing her own spell right back at her. With no time to erect a magical barrier or to dodge, all three bolts caught Gretel squarely in the chest, each one sizzling into her soft chest in rapid succession.

“Gyaaa!” the mage cried out, as the bolts of magical energy sizzled into her chest, each one sending electrified ripples of pure destruction coursing through her body. Gretel fell flat onto her back, her body wracked by the diminishing, but still dreadfully agonizing, waves of pain wrought by her own spell. Every move the mage attempted to make was pure agony, her internal organs having taken the brunt of the damage, and many of those now being severely bruised or hemorrhaging. Tears streamed down Gretel’s face as she bit down hard, desperate to at least sit up so that she could try and face down this black robed sorcerer.

While Sascha had been occupied with Gretel, the elf maid had been able to locate her small knife. With her legs still bound, she managed to push herself into a semi-upright sitting position, took aim, and prepared to hurl the knife into the evil spellcaster’s exposed back. Unfortunately for the elf, Sascha managed to “see” her motions through the minute ripple transmitted through the black fabric tendril still connecting her to the mage. And, just as the elf’s hand cocked back for the throw, another black tendril shot forth from the mage’s voluminous sleeve, wrapping itself tightly around the knife blade, and yanking it cleanly from her grasp.

“Tut tut,” he said to the elf, wagging his finger as if scolding a naughty child. “A shamefully transparent attempt, really. I would rather not damage you before we reach the market, since unblemished meat fetches quite the premium among the more selective buyers. But, if you persist in defying me, I shall be forced to deal with you like I have this pathetic excuse for a spellcaster here.” He gestured dismissively at Gretel’s still writhing body.

“F-fuck y-you,” Gretel weakly replied, attempting to spit in the black robe’s direction, but succeeding only in dribbling onto her own chin. Her wounds were serious enough that unconsciousness threatened to overtake the girl. It was only sheer rage — both at her opponent and her own apparent incompetence as an adventurer — that kept her holding on at all.

“Fuck me?” Sascha chuckled dangerously. “No, no, my dear. I believe it is you who will be fucked. Probably first by my large friend, who has a penchant for creatures like you whose aims to thwart our work exceeds your limited capabilities. But, after Ivan has had his way, oh my, whomever we sell you too will no doubt enjoy their meat in all manner of ways.”

Then, with a mere flick of his wrist, the black robed mage shot out another coil of tentacle-like black fabric from the depths of his robe, pinning Gretel’s arms at her sides, the fabric coiling up and around to wrap itself tightly around her mouth — preventing any movement or spellcasting from the girl. Gretel tried to struggle against the magically animated fabric, but was too weak from her redirected missiles to do anything more than moan and wriggle pitifully.

“Disgusting,” Sascha said, shaking his head at the bound and struggling Gretel. “You bring shame to all of us by even calling yourself a mage. What kind of spellcaster would allow themselves to be so thoroughly neutralized with such ease? What possible use are you now, with your hands and mouth bound — unable to cast even the simplest of spells? You can’t help your friends. You can’t even help the miserable elf that you and your party so unwisely decided to try and thieve from Ivan and I.”

What pained Gretel even more than her broken body was that, deep down, she knew Sascha was not entirely wrong. She had been completely and utterly outclassed by the black robed mage. And, from the glances she had stolen at the struggle raging between the stone behemoth and her two friends, their situation might not be too far off from her own.