Victor of Tucson

Victor stood on the parapet, flanked by Lieutenant ap’Fanin, or Rano, and several of his sergeants. The beauty of Sea Keep was the one-sided approach any attacking army would have to take, assuming they couldn’t fly. The sheer cliff behind the keep butted up against a great, rocky mountain range that stretched east for dozens of miles before giving way to more rolling hills and plains. Meanwhile, the front of the keep had limited exposure due to the rocky slope leading down to the shore. Only a narrow, winding, gravel-strewn road gave access to the sliver of hard, stony ground before the curtain wall. Victor caught his first glimpse of the incoming army down that winding stretch of road.

“How do they know we have a light garrison?” one of the sergeants asked, squinting as he peered into the moonlit shadows.

“They must have spies, observers. Who knows what manner of undead creatures might lurk up on yonder slopes.” Rano jerked a thumb to the right, toward the high, rocky peaks leading away to the east.

“Yeah.” Victor nodded. “They counted our guards, watched the light activity in the courtyard, and figured we were easy pickings. I just wonder where these guys came from.” He peered down at the army, his Quinametzin eyes easily piercing the shadows. To him, the darkness was tinged in strange orange and red tones, the pale light of the moon enhanced by his epic-level physiology. However it worked, Victor had a clear view of the shambling undead creatures and the hulking monstrosities marching in their midst. “Looks like around eight hundred undead and six of those giants.”

Rano turned to look up at him. “You don’t think they’re from the other keep? The southern one?”

“I dunno. Maybe. Maybe they were outside when Borrius and Rellia surrounded it. It could be that this force was on its way to help one of the other keeps, even this one, and whoever commands it saw an opportunity. We don’t know how Hector communicates with his generals. Maybe he gave the order.”

“Can this wall resist those giants?” a sergeant to his left asked.

“For a while, maybe. They’re about twenty feet tall, and I don’t know if you all can see this, but they’re kind of built like gorillas. Ugly, deformed, hairless gorillas, but what I mean is their oversized arms are practically dragging on the ground while they walk. I bet they pack quite a punch.”

“Gorillas?” Rano turned to lift an eyebrow at Victor.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m just saying they look like they were built to smash stuff.” Victor watched the army for a minute more, judging they were only about a mile distant, halfway up the winding road. “If we’re going to do something before they hit the wall, we better decide now. Any ideas?”

“If it were just the undead, we could hold them at the wall, I’m sure.” Rano sounded stressed, almost like he’d done something wrong. Victor could guess what he was thinking.

“You’re wondering if you should’ve built some defensive measures on the road, prepared more for a circumstance like this.”

“Aye. We spent too much time drilling and cleaning. We should’ve been out there digging trenches, laying traps, building barricades.”

“Eh, we don’t have time to play what-if. What are we going to do about those giants?” Victor had an idea of what he’d do, but he was hoping to get some more ideas before he charged out there and tried to carry the battle on his shoulders.

A feminine voice piped up from off to Rano’s right, “What if we don’t close the outer gate?”

Victor leaned forward to see around the lieutenant and one of his burlier Shadeni sergeants to lay eyes on the speaker. She was a thin, pale-haired Ghelli with tiny wings, reminding him of Edeya before she’d gone through her racial enhancement. “I’m listening.”

“If we don’t close the outer gate, they’ll funnel toward it. Why smash the wall when there’s a big opening? Let them drive through, use the murder holes and whatnot, while you wait in the bailey for any giants that come out. We have ballistae on the inner wall to help with them, too. Obviously, we’ll keep the inner gates closed . . .”

Rano nodded. “I like the idea of turning the bailey into a killing ground.”

“Huh. Not bad. I’ll stand at the gatehouse tunnel and smash any that come through. We’ll need men on this wall in case they try to use ladders or something to swarm over. If we get overrun, you can use the wall to retreat to the inner courtyard, yeah?”

“Aye, sir!” Rano turned and began to give his orders. Victor turned away, focusing again on the approaching army. Were all those giants the same? Who was leading this force? Did they come without a general? Were they just an extra patrolling force Hector had called to action? He was beginning to think so, watching as the army neared the last bend in the road. He was getting ready to hop down to the courtyard to get into position, but then he noticed that one of the giants was hanging back while the other five plowed forward to the front of the pack of undead. “Are you the boss? Okay, pendejo, we’ll see what you guys are made of.”

When he turned away, he found all the sergeants were busy ordering the hundred defenders into position. It looked like about two-thirds of the soldiers were ready to defend the curtain wall from climbers or whatever the army tried to send up the wall. He turned to look over the bailey to the inner wall and saw fire teams near each of the six ballistae. He knew other defenders were inside the gatehouse, ready to rain hell down on the undead that came through the tunnel. Victor pulled Lifedrinker from her harness, still gleaming and dripping with golden, glory-attuned Energy. He’d left his Imbue Spirit in effect and didn’t plan to cancel it anytime soon. “This’ll be interesting, beautiful.”

I yearn to cleave their flesh! I hunger for it! Let all witness our might as we lay your enemies low!

Victor chuckled, then severed his Alter Self spell, expanding to his natural size, nearly ten feet tall. He placed a hand on the parapet and hopped over the wall, landing on the cobbles with a thud that shook dust from the stones. He strode to the inner gate and stood at the opening as the soldiers inside raised the portcullis. The tunnel leading through the curtain wall was big but not big enough for those giants to get through easily. He could still walk through it, but they’d have to stoop. He’d have a similar problem if he berserked.

Over the last few days, while drilling with the troops, he discovered a few things about himself. First, he’d learned that, as the System had informed him, he was considered a Quinametzin now. He knew that because his Titanic Leap worked without Iron Berserk or Titanic Aspect. Another thing was that, just as he’d grown in his natural state, he was larger when he cast Iron Berserk, something like eighteen feet tall and God knows how many pounds. Finally, he’d begun to notice changes in himself, in his personality. At first, it didn’t register with him, probably because he was himself, and it’s always a little hard to look at oneself objectively. Still, he’d begun to notice a certain pridefulness that made the old Victor seem mild.

This revelation might have been troubling to him once upon a time, but, likely due to the changes in him, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel upset. So he was changing, wasn’t that good and proper? Shouldn’t one evolve as one grows in power? Should he still act like a lost kid from Tucson? No, he’d moved well past that stage in his life. He was a warrior, a titan! He was Quinametzin, and those who challenged him should learn the folly of their ways . . . “Heh, there I go again.” Victor chuckled, catching himself in the midst of his inner monologue.

Standing before the gatehouse tunnel, he looked up at the parapets and shouted to Rano, “What are they doing?”

“They’ve stopped at the end of the road! It looks like they’re forming ranks—the giants are in the front. Well, five of them!”

“Well? Start shooting! That’s only two hundred yards!” That was one of the things Victor appreciated about the Sea Keep; there wasn’t enough room atop the rocky shelf for a proper army to assemble out of harm’s way. The outer ballistae could easily reach the edge, and many of the soldiers had abilities and spells that could accurately launch missiles at that range.

“Sorry, sir! I thought we might wait to hear their intentions!”

“Hell no! They marched onto our land with undead soldiers. Fuck them up!”

Rano’s voice rose to new heights as he screamed the order up and down the line, “Fire! Fire! Unleash your ancestors’ fury! Burn the dogs!” He went on and on, and because of the distance of the enemy force and the discipline of the soldiers atop the wall, his words rang clearly through the bailey. Victor smiled at his colorful enthusiasm and nodded, twisting his fist on Lifedrinker's haft. He listened to the thump of the ballistae and the cranking of their windlasses as they were reloaded. He watched the sky brighten with flashes of color as the Elementalists threw their fire and lightning at the incoming undead.

Soldiers began to yell and cheer, buoyed by their small victories, as the undead began to fall. For a moment, he regretted hopping down from the battlements so soon, thinking he should have watched the attack for a while, but then he considered the magical nature of his enemies and the idea that they might spy him standing up there. No, it was better to wait there, out of sight, and give them a titan-sized welcome as they came through the tunnel. Still, he was curious, “Rano!” he bellowed, “Do the ballistae hurt the giants?”

“I . . . I think so, sir! They still come, though blood leaks from their misshapen forms!” Victor watched through the dark tunnel, waiting, getting ready. He wanted them committed, wanted them in the tunnel before he exposed himself. The shouts and screams of his soldiers grew more frenetic, the flashes of magical Energy more strobe-like, and Victor felt his breathing quicken, his heart begin to thump. He wasn’t nervous; he was excited. Thunder and flashes were frequent now, the casters with shorter-ranged spells unleashing all they had. When a cacophonous peal of thunder rolled over the courtyard, shaking the stones, Victor almost cheered, impressed by whatever soldier had cast such a spell. His enthusiasm dimmed, though, when he realized it wasn’t friendly magic.

A new kind of darkness obscured the moons, throwing more shadows around the courtyard, and then a frigid, stinging rain began to fall, bringing forth screams of pain from the garrison troops. Victor felt it, cold and burning on his flesh, but he shrugged it off. It would take more than that to hurt him. Still, the soldiers suffered and needed his support. “Time for action, chica,” he growled, then he cast Banner of the Champion and Iron Berserk, and suddenly, the entire bailey was awash with brilliant golden light. Victor stood so tall that his massive banner hung in the air, visible over the parapets.

Lifedrinker, despite the growth she’d gone through in the last months, was once again a hatchet in his massive hand, and Victor held her high, ready to bring her down on the first fools to push through that tunnel. Despite his bolstering light, the soldiers were suffering, screaming in the burning rain, and Victor bellowed, “Get inside the gatehouse, or fall back to the inner courtyard! Take cover!” His voice was booming, breaking through the screams, the crashing thunder, and the sounds of the undead horde as they streamed for the open gateway. He saw the soldiers hurry to obey, many going into the enormous gatehouse before him. Many others ran, panicked, with shields over their heads, for the far ends of the curtain wall, aiming for the heavy metal doors that would admit them into the higher, inner keep walls.

Victor wasn’t worried. So what if some of the undead climbed the wall unmolested? Where would they go? Into the bailey with him! He laughed at the thought, and before he grew too busy with fighting, he looked at his current physical ability scores.

Strength:

330 (1377)

Vitality:

439 (596)

Dexterity:

174 (313)

Agility:

197 (355)

His laugh grew louder at what he saw, a throaty chuckle that rumbled out of his chest. Even giving ten percent of his power to Lifedrinker, his attributes were monstrous. His strength and vitality were boosted by Sovereign Will; his strength, dexterity, and agility were increased by Iron Berserk. On top of all that, his Titanic Rage feat further enhanced his strength. His physical attributes were far beyond what his level might indicate, and he could feel it. In his mind, he could drop his axe and smash his way through that wall with his bare hands.

As his red-tinged eyes took in the first of the giants struggling to get through the tunnel, he held Lifedrinker high, waiting off to the side. Arrows pumped into the hulking shape as it lurched, hunched over, stumbling and jiggling toward Victor. As hot oil doused the form, sloshing over the creature and sloughing off great swaths of cooked flesh, he began to wonder if the poor bastard would get through to him. Another throaty chuckle escaped him as he began to stoke the flames of fury in his pathways, pumping it into his arms with Channel Spirit but leaving it out of Lifedrinker; she was glorious as she was, and he didn’t want to distract her with more fury.

He itched to charge into the tunnel, to ruin the giant stumbling its way through, but he didn’t want to stand under those arrows, oil, and other projectiles being lobbed by those in the gatehouse. He waited, grinding his teeth in anticipation, and then the first giant came out of the tunnel, lifting its misshapen, knobby head in a bellow of victory, raising its giant, pink, club-like arms high in the air. Victor brought Lifedrinker down in a vicious hack, her brilliant gold-lit blade ripping through the thing’s shoulder, removing one of those big arms with a thunk and a thunderous crack as she tore through the bone.

Victor laughed and lifted one mighty boot, kicking the reeling giant in the hip and sending it sprawling away from the gate to slide over the cobbles. It thrashed and writhed, but it was terribly wounded. Its bulbous pink flesh was riddled with arrows, covered in blisters, and ripped with a hundred gashes. Its eyes had been boiled out of its head, and great gouts of red-black blood pumped from the stump Victor had just made. “You’re big, but you’re no titan!”

He wanted to taunt it more, to cut pieces from its monstrous form, but another was already emerging from the tunnel, and this one wasn’t nearly as badly hurt. It lowered one of its monstrous, lumpy shoulders, revealing a row of strange, black, horn-like spines, and charged at him. Victor loved to grapple, and having something bigger than he was for a change was a rare treat. He lowered his center of gravity, caught hold of one of the longer horns, gripping it with a hand that could crush stone, and easily turned the monster’s charge, giving it five rapid hacks with Lifedrinker as he threw it past.

Lifedrinker screamed with fury and excitement, reveling in the action, sending sparks of golden Energy flying in her wake and showering forth from each impact. She tore massive gashes through flesh and bone alike, and when Victor flung the monstrosity aside, it tumbled to the ground. As it rolled, the cobbles were splashed with blood and dark, slippery things that were meant to be on the inside of the monster but had been freed by Lifedrinker’s wicked blade.

Victor stepped to the side of the tunnel and peered around the stone, red fury obscuring details but making it easy to pick out the thrashing piles of undead in the passageway. The murder holes were doing their job, and the third giant struggled to push past the mounds of dead zombies and shamblers. Victor took the respite to dispatch the two downed flesh giants, hacking through their spines, splitting their skulls, and dashing their brains onto the cobbles. They were weak, in his opinion. “Not even a challenge! The soldiers could handle these stupid things.” For some reason, the ease of his victories made him angry, and he could feel the rage in his heart begin to boil, beating through his blood and darkening his vision further.

He stared into the tunnel, saw the third giant was still only a third of the way through, and decided he’d had enough. Focusing on the thing, he lowered his heavy helmet and cast Energy Charge, fueling it with his most plentiful Energy—fear. In a streak of screaming shadows, he tore through the mounds of corpses and collided with the great, fleshy monster, smashing it like a Mack truck t-boning a school bus. The explosion resounded through the stones of the gatehouse, but the fleshy giant came apart before the stones did, and it exploded out of the tunnel in a shower of blood, bones, viscera, and sagging, empty skin.

Drenched in hot red fluids, Victor ran forward, screaming his fury. He began to curse his weak enemies as the undead massed outside the gate, waiting to come through, charged him. Some of his curses were out of character, things he’d never think of to insult someone in a rational state of mind, “Weaklings! Worms! Dare you challenge me? Feed the soil, then, pathetic things!” Other curses were more in character, more like the old Victor dialed to the max, “Fucking die! Eat shit! I’ll rip your shit-eating faces off!” Meanwhile, he tore a swath through the undead, aiming for the fourth and fifth of the lumpy, misshapen flesh giants.

He hacked the zombies and shamblers apart with his axe, grabbed them with his left hand, and threw them about like playthings. He was surrounded by undead, too stupid to care that they weren’t hurting him, that he was ripping them to shreds, and they kept filling in, hindering his progress toward the two giants. The big monsters were working their way around him toward the gate, and Victor had had enough. Again, he flooded his channels with fear-attuned Energy and cast Energy Charge. He obliterated scores of undead as he exploded with dark Energy, streaking through the miniature horde and slamming into the first of the giants. Just like the last one, this one came apart in a shower of blood and gore.

Victor roared and began to lay into the second one, shrugging off its tree-trunk-sized arms as they rained return blows upon him. Those big, two-hundred-pound fists crashed into his Juggernaut helm, slid off his shoulders, or were knocked aside by Victor’s left hand as he went to work with Lifedrinker, carving terrible wounds into the gigantic, roaring monster. The fleshy giants were ugly as sin up close. Folds of pink flesh surrounded bright, burning red eyes over huge, noseless nostrils from which blood and slime sprayed forth. Beneath those sickening orifices was a round mouth filled with rows of yellow, angular teeth. It tried to employ that sucker-shaped bite a few times, but Victor just threw it off, smashing it with Lifedrinker’s edge for its efforts.

When the final giant was dead, torn to bits at his feet, Victor’s chest heaved as he looked around. Some of the undead were still charging toward him, but most had streamed into the tunnel now that it was clear of giant bodies. There couldn’t have been more than five hundred, and Victor wasn’t worried about them; the soldiers could finish their work on those stupid, mindless things; they had the walls to their advantage. No, he had other fish to fry. Where was that last giant? Where was the general who commanded this little horde? Where was the one who’d summoned that magical, evil rain?

Drenched in blood and gore, Victor stood tall, smacking the occasional undead that strayed near, and scanned the rocky shelf, looking toward the road. “Where are you? Come and fight!” He started forward, kicking zombies like footballs and splitting shamblers like cordwood as he walked away from the keep. He’d made it halfway to the road, a trail of ruined undead marking his progress when the giant stepped forward. His great, helmeted head was the first to appear as it made its way up the last stretch of the sloping road. The helmet was black, the metal looked thick, and the angular eye slits shone with baleful red Energy. Then his enormous shoulders and chest rose into view, similarly clad in heavy, black plates, held together by links of black chain.

While Victor watched, the giant continued forward, and the rest of him came into view—thighs like mighty oaks, fists in gauntlets that could have doubled for engine blocks, and finally, hanging from the giant’s right hand, dragging a furrow in the ground behind him, an axe that made Lifedrinker look like a toy. “Glad you came out to play with old Karl, little one. I’d worried there wouldn’t be any glory in this victory,” the giant rumbled.

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