Headed by a Snake

The Gann crashed through the forest's green and yellow-leaf trees, peppering the landscape with sword-sized splinters, wooden debris, and now-homeless, tree-dwelling animals. The Gann raised one of its three-fingered hands above its head, charging mana into a swirling sphere of roiling flames. The perpetually falling golden leaves around it incinerated instantly from its oppressive heat.

Dragan and Tycon watched from above, as Bucket hurled rocks, Barza hurled insults, and the giant boar creature hurled human-sized fireballs.

"Y'know, Boss." Dragan mused, "If either of those two get injured, they might... not live."

Dragan was lying back on the tree branch, crushing single walnuts in one hand.

Tycon stood up lightly, not wanting to add undue stress to the branch supporting both of their weights, "I'll move if it becomes an issue."

"It's probably fi--"

Tycon moved out of instinct, immediately grabbing the speaker's neck and pinning him against the tree trunk.

Before Tycon could draw his sword and end him rightly, he ascertained that he had, in fact, oppressively grabbed and was choking Tarquin Wroe... an ally. Tycon took a deep, annoyed breath and released the Daeva.

"--it's probably fine," Wroe managed to cough out.

Tycon was not amused, "Seven hells, Mister Wroe. Must you appear from the shadows like that?"

Since when could that blue-haired bastard materialize out of the darkness?

The angel-blooded fellow grinned, his eyes aglow-- mysterious and imposing... as if he wasn't being strangled only seconds prior, "Allow me, Boss. I'll make certain that--"

"Not necessary, Mister Wroe," Tycon firmly and abruptly rejected Wroe's offer.

The Daeva was stunned into silence for a brief moment, "Oh, come on, Boss! I just mastered a new spell!"

As if to accentuate his point, Wroe drew his sword and rendered a clean military salute.

Tycon identified it as a salute used by the warriors of the Sleeping Country, far to the east of the Kingdom they were in. Interesting. He grabbed the Daeva's sword and flung it away, out of their tree. It landed dozens of yalms away in a dense growth of bushes.

"M..my sword," Wroe's lips quivered.

"Why are you even still using that?" Tycon glared. "You're a spellcaster now."

The Daeva pouted... "It was a gift."

Tycon rolled his eyes once more at Wroe's piteous voice and expression, "I'll help you find it later. But no, don't step in right now. I'll go. My abilities are far less eye-catching than yours."

Wroe twisted his lips, "What about Dragan?"

"Dragan's busy playing with his nuts," Tycon explained simply.

Dragan looked up, "Hey Boss, don't knock it. This is kinda hard."

Tycon frowned, "Phrasing, Mister Dragan."

"I think he did it on purpose," Wroe remarked.

"For now, Mister Wroe, Mister Dragan... you two stay out of sight," Tycon gave them a last reminder as he began to descend the tree, branch by branch.

…

Sweat poured down Bucket's face, matting his sandy brown hair to his forehead. Flames raged from behind the boulder he and Barza hid behind. Barza was hyperventilating, his eyes full of panic. Magical flames were bursting violently against the opposite side of their boulder.

Bucket had to yell to be heard, "Mister Barza!! I think I've got a plan!!"

Barza knelt down, facing the boy, his eyes full of hope. The boy was a genius and Barza wanted to hold onto every word he said.

"I'll be the decoy!" Bucket shouted, "Then when I have its attention, you cut its head off!"

Barza couldn't believe his ears.

"That's a stupid plan!!" He yelled back.

Bucket pointed at one of Barza's weapons, "Give me a sword!!"

Barza responded by gripping his swords tighter, half-turning his body to guard them, "No!! You'll get killed, Bucket!!"

"Give me a sword! I'll protect you, Mister Barza!!"

Barza grit his teeth, shutting his eyes. He tried to think, but with the explosions and the Gann's roars, fear dictated his every thought.

Barza peeked beyond the boulder's side. The Gann was growing more and more fatigued. They'd have to act, soon. And he wasn't about to let a 9-year old boy become the monster's only target.

No... Barza would be the decoy, "Listen up, Bucket!"

Bucket sat down to listen patiently, the boy's pointed ears twitching slightly.

It was Barza's chance to be a hero and to firmly root the boy's respect in him as the elder brother. "You may be smaller and faster than me, but-- but I'm definitely stronger! That--"

Barza opened his mouth, thinking carefully. Bucket's speed and size made him the superior decoy. He realized it might be better to entrust the boy with decoy work. Why did he have to open his dumb mouth?

"Why do you want a sword??" Barza asked.

"The Gann's armor is too thick for my spear! I can cut it if you let me borrow a sword!"

Barza passed him a sword as he finished a plan in his head, "I'll go out to distract it, Bucket. You rush out, see if you can cut below its ankles to make it fall."

"You can count on me, Mister Barza!"

Barza tried to smile, his knees shook with fear from what he was about to do, but he had to show the boy his confidence, "Just call me Lone. Lone Shadowdark."

Bucket grinned, "Got it, Lone!"

…

A 6-yalm long whitescaled snake hid in the shade of a comfortable shrub behind Barza... where he was able to watch the young, beardless, Barza Keith bicker with a 9-year-old child The two were... discussing their next tactic against the Gann, which Tycon decided was fine.

Barza ran out from behind their boulder like a fool, attracting the Gann's attention. Bucket waited a few moments, before rushing in the opposite direction, sword in one hand and spear in the other. Tycon slithered forward to get a better view. Within moments, the Gann roared in pain and crashed down onto both of its knees. Whatever Bucket did seemed to work well.

Barza hesitated, staring at the ugly, tusked greenskined 3-yalm tall bipedal boar on its knees. He brandished his swords and began to shout...

"I AM THE LONE SHADOWDARK!! THOU HAST SLAUGHTERED THE INNOCENTS AND BY MINE BLADES I SHALL SMITE--"

Tycon mentally deducted a point from Barza's score, no longer paying attention to the human's drivel.

The Gann wasn't just kneeling, waiting for death. It was desperately charging a Flame Sphere within its maw.

...Tycon briefly considered allowing the two to fail.

There was a flash of movement in the trees above. It was Bucket...

What was that boy doing?

With a suicidal drop, the boy had leapt off of a high tree branch and plunged downward, stabbing the Gann deep in its right eye. The boy hung on desperately in front of the boar's face-- but if it were to release the fireball in its mouth, the boy would be obliterated into ash.

Brave. The boy put on an excellent performance. They'd done well for most of the hunt. And Barza could use some more self-confidence, so Tycon decided to help out, focusing his gaze at the Gann's remaining eye.

[Vexing Gaze conditions met. Activate? Y/N?]

« Activate. Death to the enemies of Invictus. »

[Activating. Death to the enemies of Invictus.]

Blood spilled from the Gann's mouth as flames wisped from its nostrils. The pain that gripped its insides was superior to the sharp metal rod in its eye. The attack had been interrupted.

"Loooonnnne!!" Bucket yelled something. Lone? What did that mean? Drawing the bloodied sword from the Gann's eye, the boy threw it hard to Barza.

Snake-Tycon nodded in understanding. Proper team play rated a better score.

Barza caught the sword in mid-air.

"DEVOURING BLAAAAAAAAADE!! EXECUTIONNNNNN!!!!!" Barza slashed his swords in an X, severing the Gann's head cleanly.

Bucket's eyes sparkled at what he thought was a marvelous display of skill and power.

Tycon plunged his snakey head in the dirt. The attack Barza used had no mana fluctuations whatsoever. It wasn't a skill. He was just yelling whatever he felt like.

Tycon unburied his head, wishing nothing more than to grab Barza and resubmit him to training. But he stopped and hid again in the shrubbery.

A young female about Bucket's height had appeared in front of Barza. Her shoulder-length hair was silver and she wore an orange-dyed robe-- an archaic form of dress, especially in the Kingdom, where even the most modest citizens valued style and fashion.

"Felling a Gann with one hit…" The girl's jaw had dropped, Are you… the Chosen One…?"

Tycon had a bad feeling about this.

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