DotA One vs. One Character Battles: Chapter 3
Killer Instinct
The lone druid walked through one of the greener forests in outskirts of sentinel land breathing the untainted air. It was minutes to sundown, and the scent of the night air went well with the bouquet of nature. Even within sentinel lands, it was hard to find a forest with air as clean as this. The sentinels, particularly Furion, Syllabear and Aiushtha gave their all to guard the few forests under sentinel protection. Most of the outer forests either smelled of blight and battle from repeated skirmishes, or recently taken from their scourge owners and heavily suffering from burns and battle scars. The ones in Ashenvale, far from the threat of invasion from the scourge were nevertheless filled with encampments of unruly mercenaries to defend it, or smelled faintly of oil and smoke from Boush’s many experiments. This particular one was under the care of Aiushtha and her dryads, but Furion had called them north to beef up their thinning lines there. The news of Sven’s coming had pulled back the order for Rylai to travel north from her position at Stranglethorn. However, upon seeing that Leoric had left the battle there to Slardar, Sven had quickly lost interest prompting the call for Aiushtha’s much closer force to assist Lina. However, neither Furion nor Aiushtha was willing to leave her post unguarded thus calling Syllabear from his duties in Teldrassil weeding out crazed animals, driven berserk by the Lich King’s call. Syllabear uttered a grunt of disapproval at the thought of the slayer and the rogue knight. Lina was much too careless with her flames and caused just about as much damage or even more than the scourge did. Sven was undoubtedly a great fighter of good heart, however, his obsession with Leoric always made him forego his current priorities. His thoughts on the two were interrupted however as his fine tuned nose caught the scent of blood. Syllabear sniffed the air and rushed to the spot where his nose lead him. The sight made his stomach churn and a low growl escaped his throat. Before him was a deer, torn apart with such fury that it was nearly split into two. This was not natural, whoever had killed had not killed for food, the deer was still quite whole. The lone druid looked up and became even more enraged.
“Who…”
Before him were several more animals, small and big alike, torn apart in similar fashion to the one he had just examined. Rabbit bodies were piled up, a young stag, had its head completely torn off and one of its antlers carelessly broken. There were more, too many bodies to count.
“There is only one creature among the scourge who could have done this…” he snarled angrily as he rose to his feet.
His bear companion instantly teleported to his side and let out a slow, anguished howl at the sight of so many dead, and the lone druid shared his rage with him. Together, they set out to follow the trail of blood.
‘Blood! Kill! Blood!’ were the thoughts that raced through his head as he ran through the forest searching for more to kill. The blood of his last kills still stained his hair, his hands and his clothes, and the scent refreshed him. A howl from behind him made him laugh in sadistic pleasure.
“Yes!” he laughed as he felt his blood heat up in sick pleasure “Give me your grief! Your PAIN!”
He had been prowling these trees for months, avoiding unnecessary bloodshed to hide his presence from the enchantress and her dryads. But he had quickly taken advantage of their absence to wreck as much havoc as he could. Animals who saw him had quickly fled, but so far, none had been fast enough to escape him. However, as much fun as he was having, he was quickly becoming bored, the lynx he had found a minutes back hadn’t taken more than a few seconds. As he approached the river, he smiled, revealing a row of yellow fangs built for killing. At the river was a group of bears, fishing. Foaming at his mouth in excitement, he quickly made the hulking animals aware of his presence prompting them to attack. Their young were quickly ushered to the back of a shield of large adult bears. Nearly seven feet tall on their hind legs and easily over half a ton, a grizzly was truly a fearsome sight to behold. But this fact had the opposite effect on him, he was looking forward to crashing into a group of giant grizzlies. Running straight for the group, he leaped over them, almost flying and landed next to a huddled group of three cubs, it didn’t take long for him to claw one to death in a blitz of swipes. He took a fatal bite out of another one’s neck, his teeth finding the jugular through a think layer of fur and quickly picked the last one up and ran up to the top of a large rock overlooking the river. Almost ceremoniously, he pinned it down under one claw and with one, two, three swipes, had the bear messily torn in half and held up one half of it, and howled. The bears too howled in pain and he reveled in it, the sound of their mourning music to his ears. Without warning, he discarded both halves and dived down into the shallow river ran into the maddened group of grizzlies.
Syllabear’s heart pounded as he and his spirit bear companion followed the trail of lacerated corpses. There had already been too much killing. As they ran, a sound chilled the lone druid’s blood.
“Oh no…”
The howling of what was unmistakably bears, echoed through the forest almost drowning out the howl of another. Burning with hate, he and his bear sped up their pace towards the direction of the river.
He licked at his wounds, a couple of shallow scratches, teeth bared in a feral smile. A dozen bears, full grown now lay scattered like discarded rugs along various places in the river, two of them lying so close together that they almost dammed up the river. He effortlessly lifted one aside to allow the water to run free and lapped hungrily at the red water that flowed downstream stained by quarts of blood spilled by the battle. His ears pricked at the sound of footsteps thundering towards his location and he looked up, sniffing heavily at the air and his smile got even wider. He knew that scent. At that moment, an angry roar filled the air as Syllabear finally reached the river and saw what he had done. Eyes narrowed as the lone druid saw the culprit, standing in the open tinted red from all the blood he had spilled today fresh blood still spilling down his chin onto his sinewy chest.
“Banehallow…” he growled, his spirit bear companion growling with him
‘It is him.’ The lycanthropy thought as he faced the raging druid. They had fought, once before, in the forest where the lone druid had watched over before entering the service of the sentinels. He had lost that battle, running before Syllabear could land the killing blow and he’d hungered for a rematch ever since. It seemed, that the fates had decided to grant him that match. Almost at the same time, they ran at each other, the lone druid’s feet pounding noisily on the grass and his own splashing around in the water. The two collided in a whirlwind of teeth and claw and when they separated, the lone druid was bleeding heavily from a large slash on his shoulder. He was about to charge again when the bear blocked his way, knocking him back effortlessly. He growled and sprang back to his feet, eyeing the bear warily. The bear was massive, easily 6 feet high and over twelve feet long and weighed two tons easy. In fact, it made his other victims look like cute. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he knew that the snow white bear was magically fine tuned with nature. Before he could think about what powers the bear could possess, it showed him. With a thump from its meaty paw, he was knocked aside like a rag doll, or rather, he should have been if vines hadn’t suddenly sprung from the wet soil entangling his feet holding him in place. He barely managed to severe the leafy cords and dodge the next blow, this time, claws out.
“Stop hiding behind your bear druid.” He challenged as he dodged another swipe
The lone druid laughed.
“I may be brave lycan,” he said “But I am not a fool. I know you can beat me in close combat which is why I’m not fighting under your terms.”
With that, he picked up a stone from the edge of the river and with a quick blow, cracked the edge off to form a crude blade throwing it hard at the lycan.
The lone druid watched as Banehallow bit back a pained roar as the rock bit into his thigh and splashed into the river. His spirit bear lumbered slowly after the lycan and connected on a swipe that opened four large gashes on his enemy’s chest. Banehallow had dodged at the last moment however preventing it from cutting deeper and turning it into a fatal blow. Angrily, the lycanthropy jumped back between two bears laying side by side and slammed his claws into each of them. As he watched in disbelief, the two transformed, growing black at first and then, their features melted to become more wolf-life. As the two came to life and their feet, the lone druid cursed as he saw two wolves, big as grizzlies rise and charge at his spirit bear. His bear was easily larger and stronger but even it would have a difficult time against two wolves of that size. As the bear and the wolves splashed around the river, clawing and biting, he saw the lycanthropy run at him. He quickly picked up another rock, made a crude projectile and flung it at Banehallow. The enemy deftly dodged the attack and jumped at him, knocking him flat on his back. He managed to throw the lycan off before it could bite him however and stood up facing a grinning Banehallow.
“You dare defile the sanctity of our lands!” he roared as his face sprouted thick brown fur and his teeth elongated.
His claws sharpened and lengthened and his bulk greatly increased as the lycanthropy watched with interested eyes. As his transformation finished, he fell on all fours and roared. He was now a large brown bear, smaller than his companion, but much stronger.
He knew he should have been afraid, but his heart simply beat faster in excitement. The rematch he had been anticipating would be every bit as grand as he had envisioned it. Quickly he pounced on the enemy and dug his claws into the big brown bear’s body. With a slight movement from its shoulder, the lone druid threw him off and he landed painfully on his back as Syllabear clumsily plodded towards him. Again, he pounced and this time, landed on the bear’s wide back and hungrily closed his teeth around neck. He bit into nothing but fur however and with an angry roar, the lone druid reached back and batted him off like a fly. ‘His fur is too thick for me to even wound him’ he thought as he outran the slow moving bear easily. His wolves were faring little better being driven back by their larger opponent’s charges. Then, the last sliver of the sun fell out of sight on the horizon and his wolves blended into the shadows. The bear’s dim sight had it swinging it’s head side to side and it was soon roaring with pain as one of the wolves jumped on its back and took a chunk of meat in its jaws. Before it could throw it off, the other had jumped out of the shadows and clawed at its snout raising four angry red cuts of blood.
Syllabear groaned in pain as his synergy with his companion shared their pain, and he felt its wounds as if they were his own. The lone druid howled and he felt it, a great lust for combat forming in his heart. His bear too shared the same feeling and with renewed vigor batted at a wolf that had jumped him and almost trampled the other as it tried to help. In its rage, its muscles grew and hardened and he grew even larger giving even the near invisible wolves a hard time with his unbelievable bulk.
The lycanthropy watched as his wolves were once again abused by the large white bear. He had his own problems. Syllabear was once again charging for him and he didn’t have a way to fight back. He decided to risk it and jumped straight at the bear to gouge at its face. It was no use, it felt like trying to tackle a siege engine and he was knocked back a good distance and once again, fell hard on his back. Painfully getting back up, he saw Syllabear rise up to its hind legs and slam them on him, he barely rolled aside in time. Then, from behind the bear, he saw the clouds part and moonlight bathed the entire area in an eerie white light. The full moon curdles the blood of the lycanthropy and with the pale orb reflected in his eyes, he began to change. Purple fur began to sprout all over him and his already formidable teeth and claws grew sharper, and longer. His bulk increased and his face pushed forward until it was the snout of a wolf. He too fell on all fours and in his more terrifying true form, a large wild werewolf. Banehallow took a breath and threw his head up, letting lose a bestial howl that started the adrenaline flowing. He could feel it, rushing through his blood, seeping into his muscles. Baring his teeth, he charged at the lone druid, barely a purple streak as he collided into the brown bear sending it crashing into the ground. He quickly made a beeline for its neck and bite down, hard, and almost sighed in contentment as this time, he drew and tasted fresh blood. His wolves had been just as empowered by his battle cry and were attacking the bear, hard, fast and precise tainting the snow white fur pink from all the cuts they were making.
Syllabear slowly clambered to his feet and raised himself trying to crush the lycanthropy under his massive bulk, but the wolf was much too fast and slipped away even before he could come down. It quickly took advantage however and bit hard at his ankle causing the brown bear to fall to one side, his leg no longer able to support his impressive weight. Struggling to his feet, he barely saw the wolf jump on his back and only figured it out when he felt the weight on him. Fast as lightning, it claws tore the flesh from his back into ribbons, raking at them repeatedly before jumping off and preparing to charge again.
Banehallow grinned in pure bestial lust as he felt the lone druid’s blood on his hands and face. The great brown bear was truly an awesome foe, but it strength lay in its massive bulk and power, which made it slow and helpless to his own lightning quick movement and attacks. He watched as the bear finally got up to its feet, made him out with its dim eyes and moved towards him, limping on three legs. ‘No matter’ he thought as he patiently waited ‘I can easily dodge the slow fool.’
Syllabear charged with the momentum of a siege engine, even though he was hobbling on three feet. He watched as the lycan insultingly stood there and waited for him, knowing he would be too slow to deal any decent damage. But still, he charged on, knowing that there was not much else he could do.
He watched as his enemy covered the distance between them faster than he’d expected. He would wait until the last minute before rolling aside and striking at the exposed side. As Syllabear approached, he didn’t notice the looming figure behind him. He saw it too late as a paw struck the side of his head and he fell to the ground awkwardly, his feet entangled in a web of vines. He watched in fear as the lone druid reared up to crush him, trapped in place.
He rose up, bearing with the pain on his injured leg and prepared to come down on the helpless wolf with two tons of massive bear. His spirit bear had sensed his need and surprised the wolf with an entangling swipe. Now it was over. With a loud roar, he threw his bulk forward, and stumbled as great pain wracked his entire body from head to toe. He watched in agony as he saw Banehallow’s two wolves work together and severed the spirit bear’s jugular, the dying bear’s pain he had felt as his own and it had cost him his chance.
He didn’t wait for an explanation, the bear fell on its side and he quickly cut himself free from the vines. Looking back, he understood, the other one had died and their bond had pained the lone druid so greatly that he had missed his only opportunity to win. He almost felt sorry, but mercy was something he had never learned. Without even waiting for his opponent to recover, his teeth were quickly surrounding the neck of the fallen bear and without delay, his jaws snapped shut.
Blood flowed freely from the bear’s bleeding neck as Banehallow opened every major vein in his animal’s neck and it watched, helplessly as its life force flowed out from him in great red rivers… Aiushtha would return and find her forest in shambles and his own dead body among the bodies of the dead.
Tasting the blood on his tongue, Banehallow and his wolves reared their heads and howled. Then taking off in different directions, they ran the forest, ready to cause more pain and more death.