Hellion's Reckoning

Ruvyn’s muscles tensed from the morning’s labor, each swing of the axe resounding through the forest with a sharp crack. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow under the sun, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The nights were still chilly, a welcome respite from the hot couple of days they’d endured. It was a nice way to start his day, get the blood flowing before his rounds on the guard began. After just an hour of rhythmic chopping, he felt a newfound sense of readiness to face whatever dangers awaited him on his upcoming guard duty.

His attire was simple yet sturdy, with leather breeches and a well-worn tunic that bore the insignia of the Grovewoods. A weaving of thorns and vines around a black rose. Years of labor and training had left his hands calloused. As he wiped the sweat from his brow with a rough cloth, he took a moment to appreciate the serenity of the surrounding forest. The peaceful sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling in the wind brought a sense of calm. He leaned against the handle of his axe, taking in a deep breath of the fresh forest air. Ruvyn felt a sense of contentment wash over him, momentarily forgetting the weight of his duties. It was a blessing to get to work out here, in the forest’s tranquility. Not in the stuffy corridors of the border forts.

The choice to come with Inias had been easy. He had been returning to deliver the king a report after the death of his brother. Borderland forts were on high alert after that incident, hunting redcaps anywhere they were lurking. Serving by the prince’s side was his chance to really make a name for himself, to further his career. He wanted to become an adventurer, to be the first to reach the other side of Harrows Forest. Not from the long river, anyone could do that. Ruvyn wanted to traverse the foreboding mists and face the beasts within it. He wasn’t ready yet, but at eighteen years old and centuries ahead of him, he would make it one day.

Ruvyn knew that his aspirations of becoming an adventurer were not without challenges. The Harrows Forest was a place steeped in mystery and danger, with tales of curses and fearsome creatures that lurked within its depths. Many noble warriors had tried and failed. But he was determined, driven by a thirst for adventure and the desire to prove himself. He would be the first to reach the end and return. The Grovewoods were a minor clan living within the border forests, but he would be the one to carry their name into history.

People across the land already knew warriors like Ashryn and Inias. Her mother was a member of the high council and Inias was a prince. Those two had been born into fame, destined for greatness by their names alone. Ruvyn had clawed for every bit of respect he earned, every notch on his axe’s, every felled goblin in the honor of protecting their kingdom. He had been far removed from the Hellion and Purist disputes. In the border forests, no one cared if you were demon blooded or not. They stood together in their shared duty of protecting the kingdom.

Another threat lurked within the very courts of the kingdom. Ailog and his ilk. Ruvyn had heard stories of the Purist’s atrocities, just rumors, nothing he ever took seriously. Seeing those villagers, it all became too real. War was coming, or maybe it had already begun. This was the chance he’d been waiting for, a battle for the fate of the kingdom and he would stand on the right side, the one suffering under despotic rule.

As Ruvyn continued to focus on his woodchopping, Ashryn suddenly interrupted the peaceful sounds of the forest. She approached him with a hint of boredom clear on her face. Her piercing gaze met Ruvyn’s as she approached with a confident stride. Her hazel eyes lingered on him as he brought the axe down, admiring the way his muscles tensed.

Ashryn donned casual battle gear, the kind that effortlessly blended style with functionality. She wore a sleeveless tunic made of deep crimson fabric that complemented her hair, cinched at the waist with a thick leather belt adorned with intricate designs. Her leggings were a darker shade of red, close-fitting but allowing for ease of movement. On her feet were sturdy leather boots, scuffed from endless walking.

“Now who’s enjoying the view?” Ruvyn asked as she approached him, the muscles in her arms tight from years of battle. “You caught me,” Ashryn confessed with a light shrug. As she leaned against a nearby tree, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her sword, a playful smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “I see you’re getting quite good at swinging that axe around, Ruvyn,” she remarked, her hazel eyes sparkling, “Wanted to see if you were all talk.”

Ruvyn chuckled at Ashryn’s challenge, setting down his chopping axe with a grin. “All talk, eh? I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself,” he replied, his own amber eyes revealing a hint of amusement. He glanced down at his twin battle axes; their blades were polished to a shine that reflected the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. They crafted the handles from sturdy oak and wrapped them in weathered leather for a firm grip.

Ashryn’s lips curved into a confident smile as she unsheathed her sword with a fluid motion, the blade catching the sunlight and gleaming like molten fire. The weapon was a work of art, with intricate designs etched along its slim and elegant form. Deep crimson leather wrapped around the hilt, matching the color of her attire, and adding a touch of fierceness to her.

Ruvyn lifted both of his battle axes, feeling the weight of the weapons in his calloused hands. The axes were well-worn from years of use; the blades sharpened to a razor’s edge. “Let’s see if you can match the swing of these, darling,” he challenged, twirling the axes in a skilled display of dexterity. The surrounding forest seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, the birds falling silent as the two warriors prepared to clash.

“Well, if you think you can keep up, handsome,” Ashryn teased, her hazel eyes dancing with mischief. “You think I’m handsome?” Ruvyn asked, letting his guard slip. She took advantage of it and lunged forward, knocking his right axe out of the way, only for him to bring down the left and knock her aside.

Their blades clashed with a resounding clang, sending sparks. Ashryn’s slender sword moved with a speed that complimented its elegance, weaving intricate patterns in the air as she parried. Ruvyn’s dual axes were rugged and imposing, each swing delivering a powerful blow that pushed her back no matter how well she blocked or parried.

Despite the intensity of their duel, there was a playful grin on Ashryn’s lips, a lightness in her movements that hinted at hidden amusement. As Ruvyn brought down his axe with a forceful strike, Ashryn spun to the side, her red hair trailing behind her like a fiery banner. Ruvyn’s muscles strained with each swing of his axes, his focus unwavering as he sought to match Ashryn’s speed. The surrounding forest seemed to echo with the clashing of their weapons, a symphony of steel and determination cutting through the tranquility of the woods.

This was the distraction she needed. The blood pumping through her veins; the warmth spreading over her, and most of all, the danger of clashing with a deadly foe. It fueled the fire within her, passion spiraling with every swing of her blade. She fought like a whirlwind of passion and fire, full of raw energy and intensity, like an all-consuming flame. The fire in her heart fueled each strike she made, filling them with savagery. Her movements were a mix of elegance and savage strikes. The red flames painted on her sword seemed to dance with each swing.

Ruvyn fought with a more calculated approach, using the sheer power of his twin battle axes to his advantage. His strikes were precise and forceful, each swinging to overpower his opponent with relentless strength. The weight of his weapons required skill and strength to wield, and he used them with expertise honed through years of battle. He loved the fire in her eyes, the way it blazed so fiercely. Her hair spun around her, creating a tornado of red and orange.

Their clash echoed through the forest, the sound of steel meeting steel reverberating amidst the trees. Ashryn’s eyes blazed with determination, the fire within her matching the intensity of the fight. Ruvyn’s amber eyes gleamed with a mix of focus and admiration for his opponent’s unyielding spirit.

As their duel reached its climax, Ruvyn saw an opening and swiftly disarmed her, her sword clattering to the forest floor. He gave her a shove and pointed one of his axes at her as she lay on the ground. Breathless and disarmed, Ashryn lay on the forest floor, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips despite her defeat. She gazed up at Ruvyn, her hazel eyes glowing with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

“I win!” Ruvyn grinned, feeling the rush of adrenaline still coursing through his veins. As he extended a hand to help Ashryn up, he couldn’t help but tease, “So, what’s my prize for winning this little match?” There was no denying his skill. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins as she stood to her feet and retrieved her sword.

Ashryn’s hazel eyes sparkled with amusement as she brushed off the dirt from her rear, still grinning at Ruvyn’s victorious display. “I must admit defeat this time,” she conceded with a smile. “You fought well, better than I expected. I believe it’s only fair that you claim your prize.” Ruvyn chuckled at her gracious surrender, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over him, “It was a bracing match,” he said, “One wrong move and I’d be the one on my ass.”

“You may have won the battle, but the war is far from over.” With a playful wink, she added, “And as for your prize... well, I believe a warrior of your caliber deserves some rest after such a spirited duel. Rest and a meal. How does lunch sound?”

“Lunch sounds perfect.” With a nod of agreement, Ruvyn offered his arm to Ashryn, who looped her own with it.