Two women ran through the dense jungle. They were an unlikely pair as one was a dusk elf with blue-gray skin and dark purple hair. She carried a giant bow in a holster on her back and a huge quiver carrying two foot long arrows, at her leather clad hips, she had two curved short swords. Her companion was a war-torn shaman who wielded a large bearded axe that gleamed with the promise of violence. She had lime green skin and red hair shaved along the sides and pulled into a braid with various feathers, coins and other trinkets. Behind them, a forest drake raged. Bulldozing its way through the trees they weaved around.
"Clearing ahead! prepare to take it down!" Syladaris called to Munira, drawing her great bow and a large arrow with a serrated tip simultaneously.
"Finally!" Roared Munira as she gripped her battleaxe tight.
They entered the clearing, jumping as they did so. Syladaris jumped high into the air and flipped forward, loosing an arrow behind her just as the green drake burst through the treeline. The arrow pierced into its shoulder just as it hit the tripwire they had prepared beforehand. It roared in pain and surprise as a huge boulder dropped onto its lower back.
"Ancestors grant me strength as I honor your memories with the blood of mine enemies." Munira shouted a prayer as she brandished her axe. She charged the thrashing drake with a whoop and cackling laugh, her axe blade covered in a shadowy energy that hissed and popped.
The scaly beast snapped its massive jaws forward to devour the shaman. She grinned and stood her ground, swinging the axe to cleave its nose in two. The drake, realizing the danger, reared its head back and inhaled. Bursting forth from its toothy maw came a green miasma that roiled forth slowly, wilting the plant life along the path. Munira grinned and reached into her waist pack to retrieve a thick tome that she opened and began reciting in low tones. The drake attempted to take advantage of her distraction only to receive a great arrow to the other shoulder, causing it to release an ear piercing screech of pain.
The toxic miasma of the drake's breath weapon had just brushed Munira's skirts when a lime green aura expanded out of her body, destroying the noxious fumes and restoring the wilted plants. The drake was still preoccupied with the shaft embedded in its flesh. It finally got the arrow between its teeth and tore it out with a choked whimper.Just as it began to contemplate eating the insects that wounded it, another arrow slammed into its jaw, piercing up through the top of the mouth. It reared its head back to release another toxic mist, instead it gurgled and collapsed as Munira's axe cleaved through its throat. The drake began thrashing on the ground as it's lifeblood leaked into the dirt.
"You were a mighty foe and we honor your sacrifice. Rest now and rejoin the essence of the forest noble one." Syladaris said in her whisper-like voice as she drew a large dagger.
"A good fight, child. You are braver than many archers I have seen. You won much glory to your name this day." Munira took out an identical dagger and they began skinning the drake.
"Thank you, I have never fought beside an orc before-" Syladaris started to say before Munira's bloody dagger was pointed at her eye. She sprung back and prepared to fight.
"You will never call me an orc again, elf. Or I swear upon the great ancestor spirits I will gut you for your insult." Munira snarled.
"My apologies, I was not aware it was an insult to your people." Syladaris dipped her head in apology. "How should I refer to your race then?"
"We are the War-torn. The Aokr are dead and gone, and we may never lay claim to our ancestral name again. Orc" she spat into the dirt. "Is the name our demonic 'masters' gave us to mock the perversion of our race."
"Very well, for my insult I apologize and I will refer to your people as War-torn. Now let us continue dressing the corpse. It would be a crime to waste its sacrifice."
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Daniel woke up with a start, choking back the scream trying to tear its way from his throat. He tried to stand and, while shaky, he could walk. His clothes were shredded from the fall and did not cover much of anything anymore. A low chuckle escaped him "now I need some pants." He rummaged through the frozen corpses and sighed as the cloth they wore tore whenever he tried to divest their clothes from them. The breeze was getting rather cold and shrinkage was occurring, exacerbating the feeling of vulnerability. Daniel began gingerly walking down the hall in the direction where the wind was blowing.
As he walked, Daniel noticed fog curling around his legs, almost as if it was coming from him. He shook his head as A wave of hunger and thirst ripped through his empty stomach. "This… they don't have a word for sucks?" Daniel switched to English. Bitterly he trudged on, hoping to find something to eat or drink…"fucking fat chance of that. I get reincarnated and I can finally talk again and now I'm stuck in a labyrinth full of undead because I couldn't stop and think for a second, great job Jackass!"
Disgusted with his own weakness and current helplessness, Daniel began limping down the tunnel. As he walked he noticed that the energy in the air tastes different. Foul and hard to 'digest' so to speak. He shrugged, maybe it was his affinity with the types? A problem for later. A hissing was his only warning as an emaciated shape lunged at him from an alcove. Daniel fell backwards and tried to shove the emaciated Amazon corpse away. It hissed at him and a chill ran down his spine, not a zombie! It had long canine teeth and red eyes filled with feral cunning.
Daniel punched it in the throat and kicked it away with his foot, sending the surprisingly light creature flying into the wall where its arm snapped like a brittle twig. It hissed and stood up to it's full impressive height. Now that he had a good look at what he assumed was a vampire he realized just how big Amazons were. She had to be at least 7 feet at minimum. Even though she was skin and bone he could see why the Alva would have such a hard time fighting them. She had olive skin with a grayish tint to it. Hair that looked to previously have been chocolate brown, now matted and black with decayed blood and viscera. She had sunken eyes that shined a dull red, like dried blood.
Daniel squared off with the undead and began strafing along the vampire's broken left side, waiting for it to pounce. Not one to disappoint it screamed as it lunged for his throat. Even though he wanted to shrink away, Daniel kept to his training and waited for the right moment. A quick punch to the jaw to close its mouth, then a low kick to the inside of the knee. With a hiss of pain the vampire fell to a kneeling position. As it tried to stand he moved in and delivered another punch to the side of its jaw to make it stumble to the side, closer to the wall. The creature took a wild swipe with its gore encrusted jagged nails. Daniel leaned back out of the range of the claws and kept punishing the vampire with strikes as he guided it to the wall.
The vampire was looking worse for wear with a dislocated jaw hanging sideways and a smashed nose and throat, its hisses were more like the squeal of a teakettle. It swiped once more despite the futility of the action and Daniel blocked then grabbed the inside of its elbow. With a foot behind its legs he pushed and tripped the creature, at the same time driving his elbow into its face. Three things happened. The vampire fell back with a startled squawk, its head hit the wall, and Daniel's elbow went through its face and caved in the skull with a dull crack. He jumped back and waited for a moment, looking for any sign of movement.
When the body did not move, he finally relaxed his sore fists and shook them. "I forgot how much punching things in the face hurts. I miss my gloves." With a hum he looked down at his gi that was in tatters. "Well it's not like it was covering anything anymore." He began tearing it into strips and wrapping his knuckles with the scraps, adding much needed padding for when he inevitably had to punch things again. Looking at the corpse one last time, he saw that what looked like leather pants seemed remarkably intact. He grabbed a pebble off the ground and tossed it at the vampire. He certainly did not trust it to be dead. With no movement coming from it he nudged it to fall on its face, taking a few attempts to get it right, flinching back after every nudge.
Once the body lay on its face, arms splayed awkwardly, he tugged on the pants gently. Gagging, Daniel tried to take the damn pants off without thinking about what he was doing or looking. Though he couldn't help himself as he had to check if it was going to attack him so he still ended up traumatized by anorexic vampire butt.
Once he got the pants, he began furiously scrubbing the inside with the remains of his old pants, once they'd been 'cleaned' he squeezed into them. Oddly enough they seemed to stretch into place and weren't too long or tight. He looked from the obviously taller being back down to his legs. "Magic" he shrugged, not willing to think about the hows or whys.
Once his magic pants were on, he began jogging towards the door in the distance, his bare feet slapping along the slightly damp tiles. This hallway was surprisingly clear and somehow not completely dark even though there were no noticeable lights. It was almost like the tiles glowed. As he neared the door Daniel saw a sort of fighting ring. A throne set upon a dais overlooking a sand pit with stone benches arranged around it. Along the opposite wall was a corpse with a spear through its chest. Unlike the other weapons Daniel tried to take from zombies this one didn't crumble when it was taken. He bowed to the body and moved it into a resting position with the hands crossed over the chest wound.
Now armed again, Daniel felt a little more confident. He began jogging through the next hallway, slowly he could feel the floor going more uphill so he sped up the pace, eager to see the sky again. As Daniel came around the next curve he saw the reflection of the sky. With a whoop he ran out of the door only to stumble as he stubbed his toe on a helmet.
"Son of a Hrrth!" He groaned as he looked down at his bruised foot. "I hate that this blasted language doesn't have good enough swears." He looked up at his surroundings and paled. "Aw shit."