Samofthepen
patreon
Unto the Ages: Chapter 168
🕑 Added 2025-05-22 14:38:22 +0000 UTCAs riders crashed into the line of Thunder Strider forces, men were brutally trampled under hooves, and vicious strikes rained down from hor
As riders crashed into the line of Thunder Strider forces, men were brutally trampled under hooves, and vicious strikes rained down from horseback. At the same time, many of Grud’s riders who were at the tip of the charge were thrown off their horses which came to a sudden stop when they were felled by a lucky spear or sword stab.
Fortunately, these were in the minority, as what counted for a troop formation in these times was a bunch of men, all with non-standard weapons, standing somewhat close to each other.
But despite the initial losses, Grud’s riders naturally formed a wedge formation as they rode roughshod over the Thunder Striders in their path, aiming for the raised throne that Ba’Rak was sitting on and had just turned around to see the cavalry charge aimed at him from behind.
Seeing the pincer attack and knowing he was too slow to evade, Ba’Rak calculated his chances and did not feel confident facing warriors on horseback who had the height, reach, and combined bulk of horse and rider.
His other option was Chieften Grud, who, while bigger than the average man, and evidently a ferocious warrior, was still on the ground and could only go as fast as the rest of his men, lest he be surrounded.
To Ba’Rak, that was the easier of the two attacking forces he could tackle, and as a bonus, Ba’Rak thought to himself that if he slays Grud, not only would his legend rise to the stars, but the alliance forces’ morale would be shattered.
Ba’Rak raised his club, pointing it toward Grud, “Forward! Charge!” he bellowed, and his men obeyed. As his men surged forward, he suddenly shouted, “Aren't you forgetting something?”
Those who were close by and heard him turned and stared at Ba’Rak, wondering what it was that they had forgotten. After a few seconds of letting me stew in their confusion, he shouted, “You are forgetting me, you idiots, no way am I running all the way there, carry the throne and bring me in close! I want to be close enough to hit them with my club!”
This order baffled the men, but they obeyed anyway. Ten men surrounded the platform and lifted it to rest on their shoulders as they made their way to where Grud was fighting, all the while being chastised by Ba’Rak for swaying too much.
***
Grud fell into a rhythm as he butchered his way to the Ba’Rak’s raised throne, a mighty shove of his shield, followed by a swipe of his spear that cleaved men into pieces if they got caught on his blade or their bodies were broken when they were hit by the shaft, sending them flying off to the side.
Every now and then, he would look up to see if Ba’Rak was making a run for it, and on his latest check, something looked weird, besides him swinging his club around and pointing it in his direction, Grud noticed that his throne was higher than usual and… moving?
Grud threw out a few shield bashes and did a few wide sweeps of his spear to give himself some breathing room to rake a look at what was going on with Ba’Rak. Once he cleared some room to get a quick glance, Grud noticed that Ba’Rak was getting closer while sitting on his raised throne.
The sight of the fat chieftain on his throne waving his club around amused Grud because of the novelty of people carrying him into battle, yet it made Grud’s job easier because his prey was coming to him.
Eventually, when Ba’Rak got within shouting distance of Grud, he bellowed over his men, “Chieftain Grud of the Rock Claw Tribe, I, Ba’Rak of the Thunder Strider Tribe, challenge you! Come and settle this, old man!”
When Ba’Rak shouted his challenge, the thunder Striders surrounding Grud and his men started backing off to make space for a duel. As for Grud, he was somewhat baffled, “Did he just call me old?” Grud asked himself.
Admittedly, Grud was in his forties, but when the current average life expectancy was sixty years old, and that's if you are lucky, he had already lived out two-thirds of his life by most people's standards. But despite his age, Grud did not look a day over thirty, and the sun spots on the skin of most people who had exposure to the sun were missing from his skin, and so were any wrinkles.
The only reason Ba’Rak dared to call Grud old was that he had never seen him up close and personal, but soon, he would have the displeasure of doing so.
As Ba’Rak waddled down from his raised throne, the alliance forces with Grud backed off to form a dueling space. This was a personal call-out among leaders, and it would be bad form for anyone else to interfere.
Just as Ba’Rak got to the edge of his throne platform, the men carrying him reached the edge of the dueling circle and put down the platform.
As Ba’Rak stepped into the dueling ring, he was finally able to get a clear look at Grud instead of seeing him crush his men in the distance, and twitched slightly.
‘He did not look so tough from far away, but now…’ Ba’Rak thought to himself as he stifled a nervous shiver. He had brought thousands of men to face this legendary figure. He could not show fear, nor could he back down now that he had challenged his legendary figure.
It was do or die, and he was going to do it in glory. “So you are the legendary Grud of the Rock Claw Tribe… you don't look so tough. When I’m done with you, your legend will fade and only my name will be spoken through the land.” Ba’Rak said with as much false bravado as he could summon now that a legend was before him and looking larger than life.
Despite Ba’Rak’s tough talk, Grud noticed his nervousness. “Bold words for the fat bastard that caused enough trouble to get me out here. Let's get this over with so I can return to my wives.”
“You will return to your wives, alright, but it will just be your crushed head while I take your women for myself.” Ba’Rak retorted more out of banter than anything else, but the moment he said that, a feeling came over him like ice rolling down his back, making him break out in cold sweat.
Ba’Rak’s world narrowed as the only thing he could see was Grud staring at him with cold eyes, and the only thing he heard was a high-pitched ringing filling his ears, drowning out everything else but the beating of his heart.
In that perceived isolation of being exposed to Grud’s killing intent, he heard Grud’s voice loud, clear, and with finality. “Your death will be a slow one.”
As a response to this elevated and alien level of fear he had not felt in his life, his already rapidly beating heart picked up its pace, and his fight or flight response kicked in. And with most things in Ba’Rak’s life, he chose to fight.
Ba’Rak raised his club and charged Grud with a warcry that sounded more like a scream due to being infected by fear. When he got into striking range of Grud and swung his club down, Grud did not move.
It was only when the club reached the peak of its momentum and could not easily change course that Grud stepped forward into the attack, leaving his shield behind. The next thing Ba’Rak knew, his hand that was holding the club was being gripped by Grud’s huge hand, and just as Ba’Rak looked at his covered hand, he felt the pressure and shortly after, the pain as Grud’s crushing grip tightened around Ba’Rak’s hand.
The pain almost made Ba’Rak’s legs buckle, but instead of falling, he struck out with his other hand at Grud’s face, striking him square on the cheek, and to Grud’s slight shock, through the tough skin and thick muscles on his face, Grud actually felt it. He even felt his teeth rattle a little, telling Grud that Ba’Rak had the strength of a wild beast, well above other men.
Grud could respect the fact that Ba’Rak had still attacked him despite having killing intent directed toward him, where other men and even beasts would flee. However, speaking of what he would do to Grud’s wives was unforgivable.
A second swing of Ba’Rak’s fist was flying at Grud’s cheek, but this time, instead of letting the fist land a clean hit, Grud moved his head forward and headbutted Ba’Rak’s fist, making the audible sound of finger bones breaking, and the surrounding men making sucking noises and wincing.
As Ba’Rak reeled from the pain of his broken fist, the pressure on his hand gripping the club intensified. This time, the pain was unbearable, and Ba’Rak fell to his knees as Grud pressed down on his hand in his grip.
When Ba’Rak was down on his knees, his finger bones finally succumbed to the crushing pressure that Grud was applying. One by one, the sound of Ba’Rak’s finger bones could be heard snapping, and when there were no more finger bones left to snap, the handle of Ba’Rak’s club in his grip splintered under Grud’s pressure. Only then did he release Ba’Rak.
At this point, Ba’Rak was a pitiful sight to see. The overweight chieftain knelt on the ground, sobbing as he gazed at his ruined hands. That was when Grud addressed him. “I was about to give you a clean death as a sign of respect from one chieftain to another, but you just had to disrespect my wives. It is a pity, you had the strength and momentum to spread your name to so many other places, but you just had to pick my territory as your stepping stone. Such a shame.”
Not wanting to look at the fat, crying mess any longer, Grud swiped his spear at Ba’Rak and walked past him to declare his victory.
As Grud stepped closer to the line of Thunder Striders, they all raised their weapons, ready to sell their lives dearly if they could not run. A few steps behind Grud, Ba’Rak suddenly found that his belly had been cut open, and his guts started falling out, and the panicked Ba’Rak was desperately using his broken hands to try to keep them in.
But Grud did not care. What he cared about now was stopping the fighting before more of his men died. He stopped a few paces from the Thunder Strider forces and took a deep breath before shouting, “BA’RAK OF THE THUNDER STRIDERS HAS FALLEN IN BATTLE TO GRUD OF THE ROCK CLAW TRIBE! STOP THE FIGHTING OR ELSE I WILL PERSONALLY SLAUGHTER YOU!!”
Comments
Samofthepen
Oh shit. Wrong title. Thanks for the spot
JG
I was so confused lol
