Grum Flameblade - Airdrop Fire: Short Story

The Battle Mage arena had never seen this much bloodshed and death. Typically, fights were only between illusions, and no one was in any danger of being harmed. Things had changed when the Chaos Legion arrived. Grum saw to that. The Flameblade from Draykh-Nahka saw the arena as competition for new potential recruits, only now there would be no illusory magic as a defense. Blood stained the ground crimson and headless bodies lay stacked in piles, waiting to be burned.

Grum's deep gravelly voice bellowed throughout the packed stadium. People of all walks of life filled the seats, and not one cheered or clapped. "Do you not see how you failed to protect your land? Warriors are molded on the battlefield. Hardened by the steel they carry. They are not false magicians who fight for your entertainment. Battles are won by soldiers. Victory is earned through pain and sacrifice."

A body lay at his feet. Its head rolled to a stop inches from where it was severed from the neck. Blood dripped from a massive greatsword held in Grum's left hand. As he stood over the body, in the center of the arena grounds, the sound of metal grinding on metal echoed throughout the stands. Grum glanced behind him to see two robed Chaos Legion members dragging the figure of a person towards him. He grinned a toothy smile and gripped his sword tighter.

"I stand before you a teacher of the arts. A master swordsmith and creator of war. If it is entertainment you want, I will happily oblige."

The body of a man was brought before Grum and set before him. Grum reached down with his free hand and grabbed the man by his mane of sweaty, white hair. It stuck to the man's face as Grum lifted him off of the ground, dirt falling from the man's ragged clothes. He let out a stifled moan and gasp as he locked his green eyes with the towering orc that was Grum. Grum's smile twisted, and he let out a short laugh.

Grum's deep voice echoed throughout the arena again. "This man claims to be a warrior. He says he is practiced with blade and shield. Another disappointment I'm sure, but let's see if he has what it takes."

Grum tossed the man a few feet in front of him, and he landed with a thud. Dust billowed around him as he scrambled to his feet. A blunt sword and shield were tossed at his feet, and he plucked them from the ground quickly. He struggled to buckle the shield on his arm as Grum spoke again.

"I give him the same chance I gave everyone else you see piled around this arena. If he so much as scratches me with his blade, I will concede. Begin!"

Powered by fear, the man rushed the orc and brought his sword low, aiming for Grum's thigh. Grum parried the blade with his sword and stood firm. The man tried for an overhead swing and connected with Grum's shoulder. The blade struck clean but did not cut through the sturdy flesh. A wry smile flashed across Grum's face.

Grum raised his greatsword above his head and shouted. "Draykh un Fliera!"

In an instant, a rush of flames whirled around his sword. It reflected on the shield and in the green eyes of his opponent. Grum hit the man in the stomach with the hilt of his sword before he brought it around in a large sweeping arc over his head for a second attack. The last thing the man saw was a fiery greatsword being swung at his face.

A head with white sweaty hair hit the ground and rolled near Grum's foot. He placed his foot on top of it and bellowed out a war cry. It was yet another trophy to add to his collection.