311 CHPT 311: Dominating Magic, Ominous Burn.....
Social orders....
Instinctive hierarchies....
Socially responsive Magics....
All terms applied to the massively magical and primal animals of the wild. Claude had read it all....and then he'd started over, and read it all again. It didn't take much to spike his interest. All his father had to do was bring up an Orcish Primal-Rider-- speak of the Boarish Monsters ability to innately connect with a species hundreds of times more powerful than itself. The ability to form a bond and share power that would benefit them both. His father would speak of the brilliantly devastating magics that were born from the union....and even though the result was the fall of Heroes, the idea on it's own always brought a flame of interest searing through his insides.
That interest only skyrocketed when his father came home one night from a particularly long Tangent Run with a remarkably musclebound and clumsy puppy trotting goofily at his side.
They grew into brothers in no time. And along the way, he directed his intense levels of interest and questions towards all books his father owned that had any semblance of knowledge concerning the species of OrcWolves, better known as PitWolves.
If there was one thing he'd learned from all his readings, it was their source of power and ability to grow their ranks overnight.
Dominance Games. The instinctively magical impulse that drove one to challenge another. A challenge centered around who held more of their greatest natural gift. Fear, hunger and Domination-- the basis and three founding words of all Orcish Tangents. It was laced within the very magic they commanded. And they used it to poke, prod and tear down their opponents.
The practice was impressive and practical. No lives lost, no bad blood afterward-- usually. Two dominant PitWolves would spew their intimidating magics at one another until one fell, and then they'd gain a new leader. A new and stronger Alpha to follow. In the wilds of the Orcish Tangents, the Game of Dominance could be heard for miles, packs grew exponentially every night.
Sometimes, Heroes would enter an Orcish Tangent to find no Orcs at all. Only their bones, cracked and sucked of their marrow by an unseen force that seemed to wash over the entire world-like land. PitWolves, left to their own devices in the wild to dominate and grow until their numbers reached the hundreds and their Alpha reached Boss-Level potential.
Dominance Games had disastrous potential and were part of the reason PitWolves were often seen as Monsters before they were seen as Companions.
And yet, they were a foreign concept to most people. Most having never seen them since the Game of Dominance usually became of use only after a PitWolf hits its secondary evolution.
For that very reason he didn't think he'd see it so soon. He didn't think he'd be feeling the intense and electrifying touch of PitWolven Magic nipping at his skin. And watching the cyan waves of the shared magic between him and Frosty rolling in waves across the grass to slam into the flaming orange opposing force twenty feet across from them.
Such a bizarre encounter.
A Dominance Game between a Lupine, PitWolf and Gnoll.
The power had climbed considerably in the span of seconds. What was once a cascading lightshow of cyan and orange electrical waves had become a repeated series of explosions.
BOOM!...BOOM!..BOOM!
Every hit rocked his insides and split his skull with the recoil of powerful magic, but his eyes never left the two almond shaped balls of fire that peered into his own from across the field. He didn't like how the creature looked at him. He hated it.
Frosty stood ahead of him like a conduit of his power, using his own instinctual expertise to pull out more of Claude's Mana and empower their forceful blasts.
The three of them looked like they were on fire. The remaining Gnoll and the Phantom Wolves laid flat against the grass as the intimidating flames raged and flattened them under a blanket of fear.
It was just them and the forest. And during all this time, one realization was dawning on Claude.
"....Arne.." He growled over the sound of crashing waves and monstrous barks.
"[It looks to me like you're losing..not good.]" Arne replied.
"Yea no kidding...and losing in this scenario is exponentially worse than death."
The waves picked up in intensity.
[50% MP Remaining, (210/420)]
"[Losing would mean....you and Frosty would be followers of the Gnoll....shit.]" Arne said, vocalizing the realization in a tone that matched one someone would have if they'd just seen an asteroid entering earths atmosphere.
Disaster was only one failure away.
"I guess.....if we lose we follow, if we win, the Gnoll does. But it's power is g--AH!"
CRCKKK!
Another heavy wave smashed into their own and seared his insides with magical feedback.
"We need an out. We aren't ready." He said, completely understanding of what hung in the balance.
Everything. Everything hung in the balance. Everything he worked for rocked, sloshed and overflowed out of his control like a shaking cup of water with every mind shattering collision of their dominance.
His mind scrambled for solutions as the waves slowly overcame them with every push and shove that slid them further away like useless barricades.
He didn't have any more than a few seconds left, their waves cracked and lost color with every pulse-- flashing in shades of blue and green to signify the ruining of their connection.
6...5..4..3....
BOOM!
A pieces of the Gnoll's Dominating Magic ripped through their wave and smashed into his shoulder, knocking him down to one knee.
"RAAHAHAH!!!!" The Gnoll barked a triumphant laugh.
...2...1..
The magical connection split and he screamed for the last connection he could feel within.
"GIL!....Poke some holes in this bi--"
SPTOO!...SPTOO!
The sounds came before he could even finish the command, as if the Hound heard the words realize within his mind first.
In a flash, the heavy hold of magic that wrapped the entire clearing faded. The cyan pulse of energy disappearing first, leaving the orange wave to progress uninterrupted.
Claude's heart froze as it came barreling towards them like a flaming train straight out of the Darkways.
Before it could reach them, a series of flaming javelins emerged from the forest and sunk into the Gnoll in repeated fashion. Puncturing it's back, neck, ears and melting through it's armor.
SHINKSHINKNSNK!
Immediately, the magic lost it's speed and faded like smoke in the wind.
No Winner. No Ultimate Alpha. No new Followers. No dream of Vengeance tarnished at the swing of an axe.
The Dominance Game had concluded and silence was still a foreign concept to the forest for one simple reason.
Nothing had changed.
FWOOM!
Claude was on his feet before his body was even ready, stumbling and shaking off the cold sting of the old magic that smashed into his shoulder while his eyes scanned the field for his spear.
He found it.
"Frosty, fingers!" He spoke simply through their link while he closed in on the creature and Frosty faded out of sight behind him.
The Gnoll spun and swung it's axe with an upward stroke, sweeping up frozen clumps of dirt and wooden splinters that flew into the forest in a pellet blast aimed at Gil, before they could reach him, the creature turned with it's eyes held firmly on Claude.
"Good...focus on me." He said while the Gnoll awkwardly lunged toward him and swung.
Reflexively, he jumped over the low swing, landing in a roll and creating more distance between them as he headed for his spear.
The Gnoll chased, unknowingly leaving itself open.
FWSH!
CRNCH!
"AARP!" The Gnoll yelped in pain in response to Frosty dashing in front of him and latching onto it's freehand as if it was his first dinner in weeks. All it took was one shake and three fingers were ripped off before the PitWolf even hit the ground.
Before it could fully recover and pursue the creature, Claude was on it again, looking to punch a hole in the Gnoll with his spear.
They danced on the grass in a violent tango. The Gnoll would charge, swinging and stomping like a Wolven giant. Claude slipped and evaded the strikes while dishing out his own, finding his comfort with the spear grow after every slash and stab.
In his peripheral vision, he could see the Phantom Wolves facing off against the Wolf-Gnoll still. The creature was bleeding from everywhere and breathing through bloodfilled lungs....and still, it fought ferociously. Not a good sign.
He couldn't watch long. The Gnoll demanded his focus and made it nearly impossible for Frosty to engage, making him and Gil the only opposing forces in the Alpha's sights.
FWOO!
Another swing. Claude sidestepped and jabbed his spear into the side of the creatures knee, bringing it down to one knee where he could smash it's face with his spear.
He dove in, using both hands to press the weapon into it's maw with every ounce of power he had.
CHK!
The sound of their weapons colliding fell on his ears harshly. A sound that was quickly expelled behind the rise of their growls while they pushed against eachother. It didn't take long for him to feel the bend and strain of his weapon.
PWOO!
He disengaged urgently, bounding away as cold steel cut through the wind merely inches from his face. The next swing came low at surprising speeds, forcing him to jump over the flash of silver.
The mistake he made came to fruition before he could even fully realize it. As the flow of combat steadied, he'd only been focusing on it's right arm-- the arm that held the battle axe since he'd made sure the left couldn't. A dumb thought he realized as the Gnoll lunged and sent it's two fingered fist flying at his face.
"AAARG!!"
CRACK!
His forearms ate the brunt of the blow and did nothing to stop him from flying straight into the forest where the branches and bushes could unleash an otherworldly assault on his fleeting frame.
***
[40% HP Remaining, (286/715)]
He opened his eyes when the persistent ringing in his ears faded and allowed him to hear the familiar sounds of monstrous barks and snarls.
His eyes didn't meet the source of the sounds. Instead he found himself looking at trees and a destructive path of openness that led to where he lay.....in a bush. It's green petals let off a steady dripping sound from where his blood leaked and pooled around him.
"[Claude.? Listen, I know you're a bit dazed at the current moment, but I need you to hear me, mate. You need a plan that ends this now, you can't endure much more and neither can your wolves....it won't just end badly for you. Think about who's back at Rollan's.]"
His eyes opened again, wide as full moons while his body reacted as if one was hanging overhead. Above him, the not-Raven circled like a vulture over a carcass. It's wings sent cool winds washing over his face as it squawked at the battle outside angrily.
"I know....we'll get him." He said in an almost unrecognizable voice before rolling over and spitting out a mouthful of blood-literred spit.
Soon after, he was rising to his feet without even realizing it, shaking off the beginnings of the change and pains of his stretching tendons.
He was about to head back into the fray mindlessly when he found himself eyeballing the bird above again. Despite the bulk of the forest and scarecity of space amidst the snaking branches, it moved unbothered.
So much swift speed and directional control. It was such a simple sight, but it caused something to click within his mind.
His muscles continued to bubble-- harden, while his skin grayed and his ears lengthened out of the shadows of his hair. The same hair that hung over his face and did nothing to hide the beginnings of a wolfish grin.
".....Arne..."
"[Claude?]"
"...My arm burns."
