Aric's eyes narrowed as he stared into the rolling fog, thick and creeping across the swamp like a death shroud. He could feel it, somewhere in that haze, something lurked. Something blessed, armored, and deadly. His Benefactor watched him from her chaise, a wicked smile tugging at her lips.
"I know you can feel him." she purred, voice dripping with playful malice. "Wait any longer, and that fog will wrap you up. I wonder, little flame... will you let it smother you or-?"
Aric interrupted her, his expression hardened as he stepped forward, boots sinking into the soft muck. He strode straight into the thickening fog. His Benefactor's eyebrows raised, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Good luck, Aric..." she whispered, voice trailing off as the smoke consumed him.
Inside, Aric realized this cloud wasn't made up of fog, rather, it was white smoke from burnt incense. Thick and suffocating, it clung to his lungs, filling his nostrils with the sharp tang of holy oils and wax. His eyes darted around, every sound magnified, every shift of shadow bristling with tension. Somewhere in the haze, he felt it again... a ripple of movement, the scrape of metal.
He spun, stiletto blade at the ready, only to find empty mist swirling away from his strike. His eyes darted, catching flickers of movement, an arm, a footstep, the gleam of armor, but every time he turned, there was nothing. His fingers tightened on the Níðhöggr's Fang, knuckles white with strain.
Suddenly, he pivoted, the tip of his blade pointing directly at the chest of a man, a heretic by the look of his ragged clothing and the mace clutched tightly in his shaking hands. The man's eyes were wide, filled with terror and desperation. Aric lowered his stance, frowning.
"Move," Aric commanded, voice low and steady. "I don't want to kill you. But I will if I must."
The man looked ready to lunge, his grip tightening. Aric could've ended him, he could've put the man down several times over, but he'd killed enough so-called heretics for one lifetime... Instead, he relaxed his posture, lowering his dagger. "I'm not your enemy," Aric said slowly, watching the man's eyes. "Understand?"
The heretic hesitated, tension slowly bleeding out of his shoulders as he moved to match Aric's relaxed posture. But before another word could pass between them, a glimmer of silver swept through the fog, silent and brutal. Aric's instincts screamed, and he whirled just in time to catch the swing of a morning star, its spiked head nearly clipping his skull.
Metal collided with metal, and sparks flew as Aric skillfully parried the mace head, following up by jammed his stiletto blade into the chain of the flail and locking the massive weapon in a grapple. Thick, sanctified smoke billowed from open vents along the flail's head, its design reminiscent of a ceremonial censer. The air grew heavy with incense, suffocating and dense, cloaking the battlefield in a shroud of consecrated mist.
Aric held the block, coming face to face with the pursuant paladin for the first time as the two were locked in a battle of raw strength. The Paladin was a massive man, at least eight feet tall, and was clad head to toe in silver armor stamped with wax and billowing scrolls. A massive winged helmet unlike anything Aric had ever seen covered his face. Aric strained against the giant, his muscles taut, blade shaking from the struggle. His mind raced, whoever this man was, his strength far outclassed Aric's own.
"I do say!" came a voice from behind the winged helmet. Smooth, crisp, and alarmingly polite. "It's surprising that you managed to evade me caving in your skull like a melon." The paladin said, taking a hand off his own flail to gesture with his hand, though Aric didn't find himself relieved of the struggle. "Might I ask, good sir..." The paladin continued. "How did you see me coming?"
Aric chuckled, sweat trickling down his brow, arms beginning to tremble from the strain. "I didn't," he replied coolly. "But your strategy? It was predictable. Get me to drop my guard, then hit me from behind..."
Aric shifted his weight subtly, eyes narrowing. "I already fell for that once." he continued, voice steady. "It won't happen again."
Without warning, Aric reversed the momentum of their struggle. Instead of pulling against the Paladin's strength, he suddenly released, slipping his blade free from the chain with a flourish of his wrist. The Paladin staggered backward, armor clattering, momentarily thrown off balance.
Aric seized the opportunity, lunging forward with predatory speed. The Fang of Níðhöggr gleamed as its blade found the edge of the Paladin's breastplate! Metal screeched under the pressure, bending inward, nearly puncturing the plate. But the Paladin reacted just in time, backpedaling into the smoke, disappearing as if he had never been there.
There was a pause, then the voice spoke out again. "Predictable?" The fog shimmered, smoke curling in on itself. "Good sir... that's just plain rude!" The voice said, a tinge of genuine offense in his tone.
Aric's eyes narrowed, listening closely, tracking the movement through the haze. His ears strained, locking onto the source of the voice as it flitted through the mist. "Allow me to strike back at you, then," the voice called. Aric heard it approaching from the left and spun, blade ready for a clash! However, Aric saw only swirling smoke, the voice continuing.
"You're probably listening to my voice," the Paladin mocked, his tone like silk. "Thinking you can counter me with your ears." Aric's eyes flared open, instinct screaming a warning from all directions.
The flail came from the right. Aric barely managed to twist his body, but to no avail as the spiked head smashed into his arm, sending a shockwave of pain ripping through his nerves as he found himself suddenly off his feet, flying away with no control. He landed hard, rolling across the mud, and settling on his feet, having already found his footing on the now familiar wet surface beneath him.
His HP bar flickered, draining dangerously fast as a crimson warning screen flashed before his eyes:
[Warning: Injury Acquired - Broken Arm]
Aric staggered back, breath ragged, gritting his teeth against the agony. "Yeah... I got that much," he hissed, swiping the warning away with a flick of his hand. Aric glanced down at the wound on his arm, crimson streaks tracing lines through the mud and sweat. He cursed under his breath. This Paladin was no ordinary man, his strength, speed, and mastery over magic were too refined, too potent. Aric clenched his jaw, this man was blessed. A chosen Paladin of the Tribunal, empowered with divine essence. It was the only explanation.
The fog swirled again, the voice echoing from all directions. "How can you hope to win, Crusader? Everything the haze touches is my domain..." The words coiled through the smoke, disorienting and slippery. Aric smirked, his opponents words inciting inspiration as he rolled his shoulder despite the pain.
"Your domain?" Aric retorted, voice low and amused. He listened carefully, honing in on the slightest disturbances in the fog. "I think you're mistaken."
Without waiting for a response, Aric broke into a sprint, footsteps splashing through the muck. The Paladin's voice followed him, flitting in from different directions as he spoke. "Running is useless," the Paladin taunted. "In here, I control what you hear. I control what you see."
"Maybe," Aric shot back, eyes narrowing. "But there's one thing you can't change, no matter how much smoke you blow out of your-"
A chuckle interrupted him, rippling through the haze. "Everyone always says the same things." the Paladin said.
The morning star whistled through the air, breaking the smoke and cleaving towards Aric. It would've taken his head off had Aric not ducked and slid, instead, the smoking flail clipped Aric's shoulder. The spikes tore flesh, drawing a sharp hiss of pain. Aric rolled with the momentum, sliding between the Paladin's legs and coming up in one fluid motion, sprint unbroken.
"Interrupting me in the middle of my point?" Aric called back mockingly. "Rude." He continued sprinting, eyes focused on the ground beneath his feet. "but luckily for me, also predictable."
A growl reverberated through the fog. "That's twice now you've insulted my strategic thinking, good sir! I shan't tolerate a third!"
Aric's pace slowed, the ground growing softer, more treacherous. His eyes flickered with a dangerous light as he finally came to a stop. "Really? Well, If you have any sense of strategy at all," Aric called out, voice ringing through the haze, "You'll throw your weapon at my feet and surrender."
Laughter rippled through the fog. "I'm no fearful ghast! you wont coax me into the grave so easily!" Suddenly growing stern, the voice concluded "Have you any last words, Crusader?"
Aric smiled. "Of course... but they'll hardly be my last." He took a breath, cracking his neck. "When I first landed in this swamp, there was one thing I was grateful to the Tribunal for."
A pause. "Oh? And what was that?" the voice growled, dripping with venom, as if the mere mention of the Tribunal alone was grounds for execution. The fog behind Aric thickened, swirling violently before parting like a veil. The Paladin emerged from the mist, heavy boots splashing through the wet mud Aric had led them to. With the massive flail raised high above his head and Incense smoke pouring from its perforated vents, the Paladin prepared to swing the smoking comet down on Aric's head.
Aric's grin widened as he glanced back over his shoulder, eyes gleaming with defiance. "It's that they had the decency..."
The Paladin's ironclad foot sank deeper into the wet mud, the ground beneath him wobbling with sudden instability. His knees buckled, armor groaning from the strain as the muck pulled him down with the weight of his own mass and force.
"...to strip me of my armor first."
The Paladin's towering form shuddered, then all at once, crashed into the muddy floor with a thundering impact. Armor plates cracked and sank halfway into the sludge, incense smoke siphoning back into the Morningstar mace head in desperate wisps as if retreating from the humiliation.
Aric gingerly kicked the flail away from the fallen warrior. As he did, thick, sanctified smoke coiled back into the weapon through its perforated vents, retreating like a serpent slithering back into its den. Aric raised his stiletto, its edge glimmering with ethereal light, and pressed the tip to the Paladin's throat, between his helmet and chest plate. "You said this was your domain," he said calmly.
"But, I say it'smine."