Frostover 5th, 1469 Year of the Fourteenth Maned-Lord.
Konorr ran the snowed in forests at full speed. He ran like his life depended on it. Because it did.
To anyone else, the world was an endless collage of white and muted greens turning to brown. Winter was a blanket of frosted samness. To anyone that didn't pay attention to details, that is.
Thankfully, Konorr had an unusually good memory and sense of direction.
As he raced through the snowed in forest, he made cuts and turns determined by the cuts in trees and position of mountains in the distance.
Even the sun guided his pursuit— though he preferred the moon.
His ears twitched at the sound of birds taking to the skies miles behind him.
The first cue. The second came almost immediately after.
Far behind him, small explosions of snow rose up above the trees and sent shockwaves rippling through the woodland.
Konorr picked up his speed as the explosions neared.
"Almost there." He could taste the blood from his overworked lungs forming microtears in his sprint.
Fifteen mile sprints had that effect.
The forest elevation changed, giving way to a steep hill studded by birch trees with tangled canopies.
Konorr raced up the hill, eager to reach his destination. The burn in his leg muscles was enough to completely stave off the harsh midwinter winds.
He reached the apex in good time. Just as the explosions trailing him came close enough for him to see the figure at the epicenter. A giant wearing frozen woods, bound bones and shaped stone as knights armor with a blade the size of their body.
Konorr disappeared behind the hill.
The figure growled and crouched low, leg muscles pushing up against the wood and stone guards before exploding into the air with superhuman strength.
Konorr was hidden behind one of the many trees atop the hill when the figure landed on top in the distance.
As soon as she did, plumes of purple smoke rose up from under the snow.
The armored giant groaned as they eyed the ground where crudely formed narcotic berry bombs lay smashed under their feet.
Konorr rushed out from behind the trees, firing three arrows into the stunned giant. His ears twitched at the sounds.
Two thuds, one squelch and a muted groan.
"Fuck. Only one hit." Konorr said before pulling two more arrows from his quiver.
From there he listened. He heard the heavy metal swing— immediately after he ducked as the giant grunted and threw their great sword.
The massive blade cut through four trees, including the one Konorr hid behind.
He rolled aside as the tree fell over.
Now, out in the open again on the path bordered by trees, the giant spotted him and made their way towards him.
The armored stalker took two steps before a metallic snap shook the silence and the jaws of a bear-trap rose from the snow and bit down on his pursuers leg.
The armored one groaned as they stopped their advance.
From the ground, Konorr aimed his arrows up at the tangled birch canopy where tied up nets hung in rolls— placed as such by him a day before.
With a fast exhale he fired, severing the ties and causing a net to fall down over the giant.
And it wasn't just any net either. It was a net made with razor-barb. He had the scars on his hands to prove its lethality.
The giant tried to push onward. The barbed netting cut into their exposed bits of skin and latched onto the armor elsewhere until the netting became a tangled second skin.
It wasn't enough to win. But it gave Konorr a chance to create some distance and let the narcotic berry bombs continue to slow the attacker.
Quickly, he got up and turned around. In a rush, he ran—
He made one step before a hand gripped his throat and lifted him off his feet.
The snow hadn't even fallen yet from where the giant moved in their super-speed.
Konorr dropped his weapon and his hands rose to his throat to try and loosen the killer grip.
It felt like he was wrestling with stone— a moving mountain that pushed him back until he was up against a tree struggling to breathe.
He clawed and reached until his hands found the visored wood mask and tore it off, revealing the face of a pale skinned older woman with black hair and crystal blue eyes. Scars wrapped her throat and face. One of her ears was missing. The other had bone piercings. She looked terrifying with her long nose, big teeth and scowling expression.
She was terrifying.
She was also undefeated.
"Ok. OK! You win, mom." Konorr grunted.
Her expression grew more wicked as she tightened her grip. In the distance, thunder rumbled and storm clouds darkened the white sky.
"You still think this is a game, boy?" She growled.
Konorr couldn't get a word out.
"You're cunning. But you're still lacking your killer instincts." She tore his dagger from his belt and stabbed him in the stomach.
Konorr gasped at the stinging pain.
She twisted the blade, "There is no declared winner. There is no honor. You fight until I hit the ground, and then you rip and tear until there's nothing left."
Effortlessly, she pulled him off the side of the tree and threw him off into the distance like he weighed nothing.
Konorr soared. As he did, he rolled in the air and tore the blade from his stomach. He crashed at the bottom of the hill, bloodied, bruised and exhausted.
His mother yelled from above. The oak and stone armored queen of the hill, unbothered by bear-traps, arrow fire and poison.
"We do it again!"
Konorr gritted his teeth once before he got up and started to run. Again.
Hopefully not for another fifteen miles…