∼ Day 238 ∼
Only the indistinguishable pieces of a once uniform being and the peppered remains of a high orc remained as the aftermath of the sudden attack. All around, faces stayed surprised, shocked, and a little frightened at what had just transpired before their very eyes.
Yet, the mountain of a figure sitting upon the throne at the head of it all, had not flinched a muscle. The only noticeable change in the monster was the light in his eyes. It was hard to decipher, but none here mistook the dangerous glare of fury underneath that look as the warlord stared at his two deceased followers.
"It would seem I only accomplished to strike fear into your subjects with that little display," A voice tsked, breaking the gathering of greenskins out of their stupors.
Of those who had not already sprung to their feet, did so, drawing their weapons and scanning for the disembodied voice that had so brazenly dared assault the council of Warlord Tol'zeroth.
They did not have to search for long as suddenly, and as if he had always been there, a figure stood in the center of the canopy, but a few paces from the gory scene - looking at the corpses with only what could be considered mild interest.
Everyone tightened the grips around their weapons as they glared down the intruder, taking a few steps towards him like they were all going to charge him at once. As for the ogre, who had been one of two right-hand men sitting by the side of the warlord, he too stepped forward, trying to step in between the interloper and his warlord.
But before he could, Tol'zeroth held out his hand in a clear gesture to stop the small titan.
"My Warlord, please allow me to-" The ogre said, only to be cut off.
"Do not fool yourself, Maulrin - you're not his match." The Warlord rumbled, turning his gaze to take everyone else who seemed ready to charge at but the slightest of commands. "None of you are,"
This seemed to entirely take out the adrenaline-filled bravado of everyone present, washing away their battle lust with cold hard reality. Still, despite their unwavering trust in the veracity of their warlord's words, they could not help but take in the diminutive form of the intruder in comparison to their towering selves.
They could not put a finger on what in the seven blazes this monster was. He looked like something halfway between an elf and a drow, though he lacked any of the finesse, delicateness, and grace carried by all elves, dark elves and drow alike. Even greenskins such as themselves could not help but admire the sheer power in which both his appearance and presence brought even with his much smaller figure.
He appeared indifferent, but most found themselves unconsciously drawing back ever so slightly as they recognized the faint mania within those crimson red eyes staring at their leader. No one knew whether that was caused by insanity - or intense hate for the warlord.
The only thing on their mind at that moment was; though they did not dare put themselves above this monster in power, this intruder must've had a death wish challenging the Tyrant of the North.
He did not hold the absolute sway over more than a thousand warchiefs and their clans for no reason after all.
"What is your business here - killing my men without provocation?" The Warlord spoke, cutting through the silence engulfing the surroundings.
"Unprovoked?" The intruder mused, brows high.
"This... war of yours - it has cost me, it has cost those dear to me." He added, slowly beginning to unwind out his tightly bound aura, inundating all in it. "You attacked my home, and I'm here to settle the score."
From atop the throne, the orc clad in furs and bone eyed him with a predatory eye. A tense moment went by when the Warlord simply took in the sight before suddenly moving, rising to stand his towering height.
"Then, what? Do you intend to face my entire army, slaughter us to the very last, and to do so alone?" He spread his arms, making bone clatter as he gestured to the endless sea of tents and fires spreading out from beyond the hill on which they stood.
"No, just you," The intruder shook his head, making his platinum hair dance slightly in the wind. "I know you greenskins have those certain rules. I'll honor those, at the least - despite what you've done."
"Challenging the Warlord to a sacred duel?! Impudence!" An old and greying high orc yelled, though with the ramrod-straight stature and rippling muscle it made it hard to identify the monster as anything old.
It looked like the outraged orc was about to say something more, but a stern glare from the Warlord quickly shut up the old dog.
"A challenge?" Tol'zeroth echoed, "Do you think slaying me would grant you my position? You're not a greenskin, victory or not, those principles do not apply to you. This army will never follow you."
"My issues are only with you and this war, I have no intention of lording over this pitiable army."
The warlord's eyes narrowed at that as if his predatory stare tried to gaze directly through the much smaller monster.
"So what exactly will you stand to gain... from this?"
"Tear off the head of the snake, and the rest will unfurl." He answered, leveling his own gaze with that of the Warlord. "A debt achieved by blood paid in blood. To settle it, that is why."
Another moment went by as both stared at each other, the rest of the world seemingly having stopped existing as only this mattered.
"Fine, I accept."
"B-but, my lord!" The ogre exclaimed. "You shouldn't lower yourself to deal with this ingrate, allow me to handle-"
"Enough," Tol'zeroth interrupted, not even sparing the zealous follower a glance as he was met with the awaited prompt.
[System Sanctioned Duel]
[Xavier Tal'chor, The Sanguine Lord, has challenged you to a sanctioned duel!]
[Reward: Possible candidacy instatement]
[Prerequisite for winning: Death of opponent]
[Particapants: Xavier Tal'chor, Tol'zeroth Roh]
[∼This challenge can not be refused∼]
"That title... you're a lord?" The Warlord found himself asking, attention affixed to the prompt.
No one was sure if it was just a figment of their imagination, but had that been hesitation they heard in the Warlord's voice? They doubted the reality of the situation as everything that had happened was outright insane, so they didn't trust their ear either, ignoring what they might or might not have heard.
Still, murmurs began ringing out at this question, many of the individuals present here being powerful enough to be aware of what it meant to be a Sanctioned Lord.
"Why would a question such as that matter to a dead man?"
While the fleeing this particular duel held no repercussion though it could not be refused as it was just a medium for the System to award whoever might be the victor, the idea didn't even cross Tol'zeroth's mind. He was bound by something else. The conduct of greenskins,
Still, the fact that the System had offered the possibility of becoming a Sanctioned Lord if he defeated this one, had him almost blinded to anything else.
"Maulrin," He called out, not tearing his eyes of his opponent.
There was only a bit of hesitance in the big ogre, but he understood his Warlord nonetheless. By the throne, a massive cleaver made from the bone of an ancient beast rested, just as daunting as it owner in raw appearance alone. It was with some effort, that even the monstrous strength of this ogre, one whose strength was only second to the Warlord, heaved it out of the ground and offered it to his master.
Across from them, the intruder also summoned forth his weapon, armor beginning to form across his body while a black spear tipped by an ivory head took shape in his hand.
Even though the hill was practically a small mountain, everyone around hurriedly scurried away and down its length, clearing from the great destruction that was sure to ensue.
For a battle of behemoths was about to come about.
And any too weak, would undoubtedly not be able to stand in their wake.