The Second Trial

         "A Hydra?!", I yelped in horror stricken surprise, oggling at the multi-headed saurian with my remaining eye bulging from it's socket. Apparently this clan had an empathy for strange many headed monstrocities. They did not laugh at my reaction. Many of them wore the same expression I did, and a single Vampire at the back toppled in a faint. Perhaps this was not their Hydra after all. A Hydra, or The Hydra, is one of the most feared Beasts in the world, because:
        
         A) Their maws can swallow a grown man whole
         B) Their three rows of needle teeth can chew through an armored vehicle in minutes
         C) Their necks extend meters beyond their bodies and strike as quickly as vipers
         D) Projectiles and most known weapons have a hard time penetrating it's tough hide
         E) They regenerate at a rate of two new heads per one lost, and can grow new limbs in moments
         F) Their blood is a potent acid that can burn through meters of steel or lead, and can be vomited at will
         G) They are really, really big. You have no idea how big. But it is incomprehensibly big. Vast. Titanic. Big.

There are a few basic ways to kill one, six in my rather special case, but all are equally difficult:

         A) Block it's gills and drown it in water, or use a corrosive chemical like Agent Orange against it's lungs. Aphyxiation.
         B) Crush it competely in a landslive, cave in, or with boulders
         C) Soak it's entire really big body in gasoline, without being killed, and set it on fire
         D) Impale all of it's heads at once without removing the killing object
         E) Cut off it's heads and cauterize the wounds/ detonate the heads in an explosion
         F) Use Mithrimmar (my case)

I was fragged, truly and utterly. It's hide would be too tough to cut with Mithrimmar. If I could get inside I could slice it's soft organs easily enough, but between teeth, stomach acid, projectile blood, and blitzkrieg style heads I had no illusions of surviving. Killing is my career- I know when I'm outmatched, and I know where I can win. I could have taken the Fae in a fair fight if I had not been ambushed, but not so with the Hydra. I still had to try, though, since to forfeit was to be lead to the stakes of the Hall of Death and me killed for dishonor. Better to try and die in combat than be ridiculed and tortured to death. I turned and quietly said, "I couldn't have taken this thing in a fair fight even before my injury. It would be suicide."
        
They stiffened and a bald one growled, "So you forfeit? Failure means death for mortal and immortal alike, Masque."
"I know. I did not say I forfeit. I just said I couldn't take it in a fair fight. I can kill it, if you allow me to, but I need to level the playing field. I'm neither as durable or as magically potent as you, and on top of that I CAN'T SEE HALF OF WHAT MY ENEMIES DO!", I growled, more venom than I intended leaking though my voice. I still wasn't used to it. I would NEVER be used to it.

The bald one bared his fangs at me, hissing, and then chuckled. "You would make a formidible Vampire, friend, even in your current 'crippled' state. And that is not something I say idly. Last night I was cheering for the bear! But come, what scheme has your twisted little human mind devised?"

"Well... Humans use tools to kill things stronger than themselves. So if you permit me to access my cache I left with you, and to borrow four goats, I should be two thirds of the way along already."

Leaving the mystified old terrors behind I sealed myself in the common room for three hours delicately rigging up high powered explosives in a wirey mesh around the goats and then to get the stubborn things inside the Hydra's torchlit stone cave. The C6 explosive clay was designed to detonate only under extreme pressure- like the bite of a monster! "Z" had designed it a few years ago for an expedition into the Outer Limits that was never undertaken because of political instability. These bombs had never seen the light of day, and as far as the world at large knew C4 and C5 were the most potent in the series. Lost in my reverie I almost missed the four simultaneous explosions. I rushed in to kill the last head, determined to prove myself... and barely leaped up in time to avoid the clashing jaws of the swift and angry beast. I landed in a crouch on it's forehead where I promptly cut out both it's glowing yellow eyes. It went berserk, spinning in crazed circles and gnawing upon its own neck in pain while I slammed into the wall and a cascading waterfall of bubbling green blood poured down over it. I dazedly observed it's other head coming towards me, and - OTHER HEAD?! I kicked, smashing in part of it's lower set of teeth, but it's powerful tongue flipped me into it's throat and swallowed me whole. The teeth regenerated behind me... I really should have cut them. It's slimey esophagus tried to force me down and I desperately stabbed Mithrimmar into the lining at the side of it's neck. I held on to the katana as tightly as I could in spite of the wet, pressuring organ and the all too warm saliva the dripped down it's throat. My beard dripped with it's damn juices as I clung for dear life and contemplated my options. If I slipped or let go the acid in it's stomach would slowly strip my bones bare. If I threw my boot upward at the euvula it would vomit and those same acids would soak me- albeit to a lesser degree. That would be fine if I were in armor and had weeks to recover, but in my robes as I was now I would never survive it. And if I stayed here I would inevitably slip. So I took a risk and slowly placed my feet on the embedded hilt, using it like a tightroper's platform to crouch and save my arm strength. From this position I could see I hadn't fallen very far- four or five feet at most- and even more importantly the creature was staying very still to try to swallow me easier. That provided me with a workable space, adequate leverage, and an assured position. In a single swift movement I backflipped up into it's maw, ripping Mithrimmar out of it's throat, and barely avoiding it's euvula I landed with a splat on it's tongue. Before it could react I stabbed upward into it's brainhandle fout seperate times, then cleaved it's tongue loose and kicked it down it's throat. The dead head crashed into the ground, scratching my shoulder on one set of teeth as I went tumbling clear... into the wall. Again. At nearly fifty three miles an hour. If I acknowledged pain, that definitely would have hurt, but there are reasons I am still a Masque after all the wounds I've recieved over time.

I slowly rose from my crumpled heap, twisting various limbs this way and that to ensure they weren't broken, then staggered, then strode, to the remaining blinded head, which was bashing itself against the cavern ceiling as if blaming it for it's lack of sight. I walked to the base of it's throat and steeled myself, then, sans pity, began to swing and delivered a series of lethal blows with Mithrimmar. It took several minutes to finally hack through the thing, but the pain crazed monster wasn't fighting back. When at last it lay dead I began to collect the valuable acid blood of the legendary monster. I may never meet another one, and I had a premonition that it would eventually prove useful. Ten full flasks of material later I returned to the Vampires outside, who simply sewed my shoulder shut and told me that tonight there were two events planned... and I was not yet done killing.

Right after killing the Hydra came the second challenge of the night. A black robed Dark Elf with a crown woven through his silken white locks strode towards me, red eyes glowing in the darkness of the night. His black robes stopped just short of his sandals. His teeth gleamed in the darkness, and his frame was slimmer than that of a young girl, but well muscled and defined. Two jewelled scimitars rested easily on his hips, and on seeing me staring, he drew them and spun them in a duelist's salute in a single easy motion.

I stared at the Drow brandishing his scimitars and did something I had not done in years. I laughed, genuinely laughed. This wouldn't be another grim struggle for survival, and this wouldn't be another swift execution against a 'superior' beast. This would be a fight, a genuine fight, and I would relish every moment of it. Even if it killed me.

He began by slowly going through his stretches, moving his blades slowly around his body as he extended himself in a sinuous dance. I passed my sword from hand to hand and watched for openings as he gradually and inexorably sped up, begining a whirlwind of slashes, spinning round and round and constantly altering his angles. I simply ran forward into the shining globe of motion, heaving upwards in a two handed stroke to disrupt his motion and then a single handed at his face. He blocked with one scimitar and swept at my legs with the other, but I gave a short jump and countered with a left handed strike towards his chest... which he sidestepped, slashing at both sides of my ribs. I kicked him in the hip, knocking him a full foot back, though he retained his footing, and then I stabbed at his stomach. And he caught mithimmar underneath his scimitars, in an x-shaped parry. We strained against each other for long moments before he kicked in between his hilts, but I had already dropped the katana and grabbed his foot as it arced out. Then I threw him ove my shoulder, knelt, retrieved my blade, and stood just in time to parry the next vicious assault, this time consisting mainly of stabs.

In counterpart I mostly attacked with short, one handed slashes, evading his blades rather than parrying whenever possible. I backed up, and allowed myself to be backed towards the corner- and then reversed my tactics and stabbed through his next overhand blows with both hands, opening a rent in his tunic. His next sweep took a lock of my hair, and then all three blades locked again, Mithrimmar stuck in between his weapons but it's blade extending out past his right one. I feinted a kick, and jerked Mithrimmar down with all the force I could muster- slipping the edge past his sword guard and gashing his arm deeply. He growled and swept outward with both blades at shoulder height, but I ducked and took the opening. My katana slashed deep through his chin and lower jaw, erupting out of his left cheek just below his eye. As I ripped it out blood began to flood in torrents down his face, and the duelist gave an inarticulate groan of agony. His mouth opened and his mostly severed tongue nearly flopped out, but he attacked even more relentlessly than before, and barrel rushed me. The tackle knocked me to the ground and he stabbed blindly at me, miniature craters left in the wake of his homicidal fury. He was blinded by the dust; otherwise I would be full of holes and buried by now. Finally I managed to slam my katana's pommel into his oozing chin when he leaned too close and got him off me, then took up the assault. I began with a wide, horizontal one handed slash, but as he moved to parry I seized my hilt with the other hand and ripped vertically upwards, splitting him open from navel to torn chin. He gaped at me for a moment, and then pulled out a potion and chugged it down. Triumph shone from his red eyes and he grinned nastily at me, even evilly, as I simply stared. I felt cheated for a moment, then laughed once more. "That was good for a warmup!", I grinned, "But my sword cancels regeneration and immortality."
        
His face was absolutely priceless. Mortal, shoulder wounded, bruised, sensory damaged, supposedly slower and weaker... besting him and bragging about it. And killing him, he who should have been good for at least another four centuries of life, he who was born to be better... If I have any fond memories about my career, that right there is definitely one of them.
        
The clash intensified even more. To the onlookers we didn't even seem to be aiming at each other anymore, just dancing through the metal as three sharp weapons and and shrieked in eerie harmony. I moved my arms, he moved his hips. I advanced, he feinted. Rinse, repeat, inverse, roll, jump, roll, hurtle, circle, stab-and-thrust-and slash, parry and riposte. For a full four minutes as he bled we fought eye to eye in each other's faces, sweat and blood staining two sets of black robes and the brown dust. All the while the tough dark elf bled out, and got in a few good blows, but in the end he collapsed to his knees. He tried to stand, but a single right handed slash cut him in half from his right hip to his left shoulder, and then I reversed the cut one handed and claimed his head. I pulled the scimitars from my left leg- I had barely avoided being hamstringed- and slowly, with as much dignity as I could muster, I limped into the center of the Arena. "L" raised both hands over his head, then bowed to the thunderous applause. So ended the Second Trial.