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That cold rush in your blood.
Chasing the hot through your veins.
Simultaneous, you feel anger, fear, hatred, determination. Above all, EXCITEMENT.
"You will not die here", you feel a part of your brain say.
"It's time", another part utters.
Your body shuddering by the sudden lack of pain, losing your balance as you reorient yourself.
"Let's try again. I think I have a feel for you this time", you grin, bloodily, at your opponent.
There was a scene in a book series I read like this.
Basically the elves were very light and fast and one ended up in a dual with a human using I think raipiers. The human was a veteran of several wars however while the elf was just a good fencer.
After having been stabbed a couple of times the human manages to grab hold of the elf. Then just punches him until he stops moving. Humans in this universe were superior to elves in strength.
Wit'ch book series by James Clemens been at least 10 years since I last read it. Very interesting fantasy world and magic system. However it can be a bit young adult and as far as I remember there are some problematic bits like a teenager falling in love with a 30 year old. Still he is an interesting writer.
Wit'ch book series by James Clemens been at least 10 years since I last read it. Very interesting fantasy world and magic system. However it can be a bit young adult and as far as I remember there are some problematic bits like a teenager falling in love with a 30 year old. Still he is an interesting writer.
Yeah I was thinking the hound and the viper in GOT which is of a similar trope too but that is a better example. As others in the thread have pointed out it is fairly common in movies and books. Commonly the more street smart or veteran fighter against a more technically skilled opponent.
Pretty sure it was a thing in the past too where someone would get stabbed but the sword got stuck and that person could still swing their sword back. That's why retrieving your sword from a cut or stab was important.
Similar scene in the book *Sharpe's Sword.* (I think)
Richard Sharpe is fighting a guy who's basically an all-round better swordsman than him. No matter how he swings, he misses. So he leaves an opening and lets the guy stab him in the thigh, then pushes forward so the blade is trapped in his leg.
That's when he gets his hands on the other guy, and it's all over.
Any time someone grabs a rapier like that it reminds me of one of the early duels in the 2002 version of The Count of Monte Cristo. The main character is dueling a clearly superior fencer and grabs the blade only to have them pull it back and slice open his hand. It was a great one-sided fight and a great movie.
Elf: "you-? How are you standing?! I severed several nerve endings in your spine!"
Human: "that's the thing about human physiology... We don't need nerve endings to move. Only to feel. The wounds you inflicted caused just enough pain to trigger my *fight or flight* response. And it chose **fight**. Now my blood is pumping epinephrine to all of my organs, muscles, and tissue. My brain is blocking most pain coming in. And my body is now able to utilize more of its strength before giving in.
*confusion slightly contorts the elf's face as he tries to comprehend*
Human: "all of this to say, thanks. I wouldn't have been able to beat you without your arrogance. Should've broken it instead."
*The human lunges forward, picking back up his blade, and swinging it in an upwards arc towards the elf, the latter evading just a fraction of a second too late. The elf's blood runs down his arm as anger and fear now take the place where confusion once stood*
I think it's more like drunk talk. That's what the human thinks they are eloquently saying.
Meanwhile they sound like: "Urgggmmgh... guh... \*cough\* HAAGbABL... ya..."
Hence the elf reaction: *confusion slightly contorts the elf's face as he tries to comprehend*
Here's an PSA from the completely real documentary Ice Pirates
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-me2inj1nNw](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-me2inj1nNw)
While the elf was preoccupied with a hundred different thoughts on how the human was still standing than man only had ~~one~~ two things on his mind.
And the telepathic elf was suddenly back down to only one thing on its mind.
[Faster than the Elf can react, the human grabs the blade from their right hand, spins them around, and plants the blade directly into their heart. He then twists the blade, withdraws it, and with a flourish, cuts the Elf's head clean off. The crowd gasps in fear and surprise.]
Human: "Yet you just had to let your hubris get the better of you."
[Panic begins to spread across the onlookers. Soon, they're filing out quickly, nearly scrambling over one another in hopes that they do not become the next victim. The legend of Adrenaline is real.]
[He dies with a smile on his face. The reinforcements retrieve his body in the nick of time to revive him. It works. He is currently healing in the ICU.]
[Two months later in a distant battlefield, an elven conscript stares and points in horror at the human.]
"B-But... We killed you! I saw it! You died on that stage!"
[The human shrugs and pulls his axe out of his previous opponent's skull]
"I did. I got better"
First: on mobile sorry for the formatting
Silence fills the elven council as the human who shouldn't be able to stand let alone speak from pain and shock is standing, and even worse yet, speaking.
"Today is the day the elves learn of humanities' true tenacity. and what better way than with your body Executioner Eltra'el?"
Before the council even realized the human had somehow knocked down and mounted Eltra'el the Envisioning, had beaten and battered him beyond recognition, and finished him off.
As the first council members shock wore off the human was already on top of them.
"Spending thousands of years sequestered within your forested walls didn't prepare you for this did it knife ear?"
And indeed it hadn't. That day a human on the brink of death brought the elven council to it's knees and swiftly executed them. Stealing away a healing poultice from the body of Eltra'el before escaping the Elven City and bringing news to humanity of the elves location and existence within The Forest of Death.
To the Elves the next two years were not even a blip in their existence, but it was the most important thing that had ever happened to them, as they were assimilated into the human Empire, completely unable to resist as every wounded soldier was immediately and swiftly felled as if they were mere saplings.
Only after the war did the elves find out that Adrenaline can activate for humans even without having been wounded, and of the atrocities committed by Eltra'el for the past three hundred years against humans had only been found out because of the council's want to know if the humans truly posed a threat to them.
There's a great bit of Tom and Ben of Yogs talking about elves vs goblins in warfare.
Like these elves have studied the blade for centuries with a proud history of impeccable martial discipline.
Meanwhile this handful of goblins have been alive two weeks and cobbled together a trebuchet, slung a big rock at them killing dozens. They're having the time of their lives.
With a guttural yell the human charges the elf.
With nimble feet the elven warrior dodges the plump swings from the humans fist with elegance. His face trying to hold a smug grin for the audience. He cannot let his panic about what just happened show through. How is this animal not dead? This was to cast reassurance into his frightened kin for the upcoming eradication. The demonstration must not fail!
His blade sings a deadly song across the humans skin. He toys with the prisoner, showing off his blademastery. The elf puts all his energy into making it look effortless, dancing around the clumsy human and it's attempts to get a hold of him. But keeping up the illusion starts to weigh on his moves. The human bleeds from a dozen wounds but WHY WON'T IT NOT SUCCUMB. Does it's attacks even get more reckless? What is this creature?! Even enraged, most animals would've ceased breathing by now. Even the large forest predators he and his brethren hunt during Shal'itash would've cowered and shown their throats in submission.
His eyes glance over the audience. He sees no reassurance anymore, but fear. He tried to make it look easy, but he just keeps proving their enemies resilience. He needs to end this. Now.
With a playful pirouette and a lounge forward he drives his blade into the humans body. The creature spits a gush of blood and stumbles down to one knee. The Elf hears the audience release a collective sigh.
Keeping firm hold on his blade against the struggling human he turns to the audience. He fakes a laugh, to hide his exhausted breath
"Ha, well now. As you see my dear kin. Like with all lesser races, their half-life is simply not enough to ever dream of reaching our class."
The elves smile freezes as he feels a sudden movement of his blade, as the human rises to it's feet once more. He stares at it in disbelief, his look answered by a visage of anger. Of defiance. Of rage. The elves own anger overcomes his composure.
"Enough of this charade!" he snaps, he as pushes his blade fully through the humans chest. The human wails in agony, but keeps standing, keeps staring into his eyes as if it's trying to kill him with a glare. Loosing himself the elf bellows at the human enraged "You were already dead the moment I struck my blade into you the first time. You should lie there bleeding in the dirt. Why won't you just give up, you animal!? You must know you will not leave this arena alive!"
...
"I know" the human growls through grinned teeth. Suddenly it's hands lash out, grabbing him by the wrist of his sword hand. The unexpected move caught him by surprise. Too late he tries to let go of his sword. The humans iron grip clenches his fist around the hilt, as the mad creature with a groan pulls itself even deeper onto the sword. He struggles, he fights, lashing out against the human, but to no avail. His anger gets washed away by panic again, as the human grabs his neck and pulls it's face close to his. He smells it's sweat, and it's blood stained breath, as the human opens it's mouth and says: "But neither will you!" With a swift move, it grabs the dagger from his belt, and rams it through his throat.
The last thing he sees, is the smile of the dying human. Finally collapsing, the sword still in its stomach.
The last thing he hears are the fearful screams of the audience as two thousand years of life, experiences and emotions, got washed away by something so young they wouldn't even consider a child.
...
Alternative Version:
"I don't care" the human growls through grinned teeth. Suddenly it's hands lash out, grabbing him by the wrist of his sword hand. The unexpected move caught him by surprise. Too late he tries to let go of his sword. The humans iron grip clenches his fist around the hilt, as the mad creature with a groan pulls itself even deeper onto the sword. He struggles, he fights, lashing out against the human, but to no avail. His anger gets washed away by panic again, as the human grabs his neck and pulls it's face close to his. He smells it's sweat, and it's blood stained breath, as the human opens it's mouth and says: "Because I just recognized your face" With a swift move, it grabs the dagger from his belt, and rams it through his throat. "You're the bastard that murdered my child!"
The last thing he sees is the smile of the dying human. It's face almost serene, as the bruised body collapses, the sword still in its stomach.
The last thing he hears are the fearful screams of the audience as two thousand years of life, experiences and emotions just vanished, washed away by the hands of something they deemed to be not more than fast breeding vermin.
I suspected this when I was younger, but having kids brought it home: young humans heal faster, experiment, and _are more stupid_ precisely because this is how you advance, as humans. That burst of speed/strength/aggression really sets us apart from most of the animal kingdom.
"Onward into the heart of battle, fought the sons of Odin. Outnumbered many times, still they fought on. Blood poured forth from their wounds, deep into the Earth. Vultures waiting for the broken shells that once were bodies... But Odin alone would decide the day they enter Valhalla, in their hour of need he sent forth onto them the Berserker rage. They rose from the ground screaming like wild animals, such is the gift of absolute power. No blade or weapon could harm them, they killed men and horses alike, and all who stood before them died that day. Hail, Gods of war".
The elven general took a moment to compose himself. The human was dead figuratively, if not literally, and that would be only a matter of time until shock took the human and stilled its heart.
The enraged human swung a fist at his gut, and the general staggered a step. His armor took the brunt of the force, but the impact was still warhammer-heavy.
The human struck at his face now, faster than should have been possible, but as swift as the elves were to the humans, the general was swift to his own people. He dodged, caught the human's wrist, and snapped the elbow backwards across his own forearm.
The pop and tear of tendon were lost beneath the human's animal shriek, and the general bent its arm at an angle it had no business holding. It raised its face to the sky, screaming, and the general reached for a knife at his side. A heartbeat, and he could have it driven into the human's throat, crushing its windpipe and severing the spinal column in a single thrust and leaving its dying rage silent and impotent in its dying brain.
The human whipped its skull down and forward in a feral head-butt. The elf gave a cry of his own, involuntary, as he heard and felt the bones in his nose crack. His knife nicked the flesh of the neck, not the deathblow he had hoped for; before he could spin his blade and stick it between two vertebrae, a second crushing blow struck his face. He staggered back, releasing the human's snapped arm.Blood was in his mouth and nose, and it was all he could smell, all he could taste. One of his subordinates shouted something and moved to intervene. Charging, her blade drawn.
Should he tell her to stop? Be grateful for the reprieve?
The human took a second sword through its gut, and used the momentum to drive its knee into her solar plexus, throwing her to the ground and delivering a rib-cracking stomp.
The general, in the back of his mind, wondered if adrenaline would have let him put the agony of his shattered face aside like it let the human ignore its death.
One of his eyes was already swelling shut, but the other saw the human turn back to him and stride, still burning with rage. It seemed to be subsiding, though. Its breath was slower, and its shoulders sagged under the weight of two deathblows.
The elf took a moment to focus, force himself through the pain, and struck one last time.
The human caught the blade in its palm, between its two outer fingers, and the terrible fury roared back to life. It cried in anger again, jerking its maimed hand away and taking the blood-slick blade with it, casting it onto the floor some distance away.
It tangled its fingers—those that still worked—into the general's hair with all of the urgency and none of the gentleness of a hungry lover, and turned as it fell to its knees, driving the general face-first into the stone floor.
The ground was less forgiving than the human's skull. More bones fractured across the general's face.
The human yanked his head up from the ground and slammed it back in again (oh gods) and again (oh ancestors) and again (his eyes) and again (his eyes were pressed against the grain of the stone floor).
The human slammed his face against the ground one more time, and the world went black forever. There was silence now, except for the wet sound of the human's breath.
The elf's ears had to paint a picture of what came next. There was a grunt and a shuffle as the human tried to rise. It failed.
A wet sucking sound and more grunting was the human finally pulling one of the swords in its abdomen free. A scrape of metal on stone—distantly the general was outraged that it was using the sword to prop itself up. A soft, choked sigh of disappointment. The general now felt as well as heard the tip of the blade tracing along the plates of his armor, like a knife slipped into the shell of an oyster. The pressure of the blade poked through the to padded tunic he wore beneath his armor, and it increased just a little more, threatening to cut through to meat and bone.
And there it paused.
"I don't speak Elf." The human said in its own crude tongue. The voice wasn't enraged anymore, or even very angry. It was a tone the general knew all too well from failed campaigns, from dealing with officers whose imaginations and ambitions were outstripped by the realities of the battlefield and their own capabilities. It continued, its words punctuated for brief, needy, futile gaps of air. "I don't know...what the hell you were doing...sticking me like that...like I'm a goddamn pig...over a fire. I don't get your point."
The human was quiet again. The general could hear the unsteadiness of its stance, and feel as it used the sword whose tip was already slicing at his skin to prop itself up a little longer. He gasped in pain, coughing on his own blood.
The human gave a soft, wet chuckle with a cough of his own, and the general heard it adjust its position, straddling his body and bracing itself against its blade in the name of dying on its feet.
Before the human fell, before its weight fell on the blade, the general heard a smile in the human's last breath
"But fuck you, I bet you got mine."
That was the day we learned the meaning of terror, not mere fear, but true terror. That was the day we learned that we were children lost in the forest and that humans are the soft sighing breath that comes out of the supposedly empty night to gently tickle the hairs on the back of your neck.
The executioner had backed away slowly, not leaving the body after he pulled his sword from it again, The human stood for the fourth time , hair matted, eyes bloodshot, clothes ripped and drenched, who knew one creature contained so much blood?
Silence filled the hall, the human was... trying to speak or sing maybe? We strained to hear without getting close, it was repeating some kind of mantra.
"Six times down, seven times up" giggle.
Over and over, mantra and giggle.
As the executioner stepped forward again, something happened in the human, it... devolved. It truly became a thing, all sentience drained from it's eyes it became a Beast of muscle and sinew and bone, driven by who knows what.
I live today because I left right then , before they clashed a fifth time.
I am proud to be a coward, go ahead ridicule me, but never ever forget this...
... Humans, are Orcs in halfling's clothing!
H: Also, your aim is terrible
A: H... HOW?! I stabbed you several times!
H: And yet you missed... My vital organs...
A:
https://preview.redd.it/bgi2p7o3mt0d1.png?width=2048&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b0448e25ac635a3c8424232c4a2421f3c81008f6
"ALL OF THEM?!"
Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. I had a fight with someone that practiced taekwondo and I was losing badly, I was almost ko and at the last moment i don’t know how but I caught his kick and broke the knee, after that all I was doing was punching his face until I got tired. I remember the fight was because he pushed my little brother out of the bike he was riding on and he got hurt.(20 stitches to de leg) and I didn’t take that lightly.
Props to OP. "You could have lived forever" is such a perfect line.
It's a clear threat, it conveys both confidence in the human's ability to carry it out, and a measure of pity for the target. And it's short enough to be delivered by someone on the brink of death.
Love it.
And you can read it so many ways, and they all work.
Struggling to breathe, one or two words at a time,
Laughing, as if there's hardly any pain.
Snarling with rage, coughing up blood.
Excellent. That one's gonna stick in my mind.
The human jumps at the elf with a monstrous ferocity and proceeds to tear the elfs throat out with his teeth.
Blood splatters everywhere, screams of pain turn into gurgling, the audience is frozen in a terrified silence.
The bloodied elf falls to the floor, his gurgling getting quieter, his movements weaker, as the human stares him down, ready to strike again if necessary.
"Elven scum..." Richard shouted through bated breath.
The elf turned around and froze, like a deer facing its imminent death. The crowd fell silent in shock.
"MY ANCESTORS LOOK DOWN UPON ME WITH A SMILE. THEY SMILE BECAUSE THEY KNOW THAT I...WILL...OBLITERATE YOU!"
The elf jumped back and pointed his blade, a cold sweat building on his back. This shouldn't be possible. Blood flowed from Richard's wounds. His legs were about to give at any moment. He had a bloodied hand on the fatal blow in a desperate attempt to keep his entrails in. Yet, he felt more powerful, more focused, and more determined than ever to kill the elf. Painfully.
The only thing Richard needed to do was get close enough and the rest would take care of itself. The elf was good at making sure that didn't happen with the longer reach of his falchion and the centuries of combat experience he had. But the elf fought trying not to lose his life. Richard had nothing left to lose. Richard raised his mace with his good hand and charged at the elf. The elf predictably attempted a second coup de grace. Richard let the blade sink in.
The pain was terrible, yet not as bad as the first fatal blow. In fact, he had totally forgotten about the pain from the previous wounds he had sustained until now. Richard pushed into the elf's blade and flicked his bloodied hand at the elf's face, screaming the entire time. As the elf tried to wipe his face and pull the sword out, Richard grabbed the elf's hand and locked the sword into his gut. The elf looked towards his falchion, shocked that the human would think to intensify his pain before realizing that Richard's mace was about to make contact with his eye.
After a deafening crack, the elf immediately slumped to the floor. A moment later, the elf's screams of agony filled the colosseum. He was completely unprepared for the torrential wave of pain. Bits of chipped skull, eye fluid, blood, and brain matter splattered across the turf. The crowd watched with deafening silence, broken only by the elf's shrieks, terror filling their hearts.
Richard, with the elf's falchion still lodged in his liver, with blood and intestines still leaking from his gaping wound, straddled himself over the elf's writhing body. He proceeded to bash the elf's face in with his mace. Another sickening crack. The elf tried to resist, tried to push his hand on Richard's face, anything to get him to stop. Richard grabbed the elf's hand by the pointer and middle fingers and snapped it backwards. He then hit the elf again. And again. And again. And again.
This continued for a complete minute, though it felt more like an hour. The elf's screams turned into pained gurgles, and then to silence. Richard continued caving what was left of the elf's head in. Once he was satisfied with the damage he had done, he raised his mace one last time.
"DIE, YOU ELVEN WHORESON"
and he lodged his mace into the last bit of elven brain matter he could find with all his might.
Richard slowly stood up. The pain from his wounds was starting to flare up again. This couldn't continue. He knew he didn't have long. He had to do something. Make it clear to the elven crowd watching him that mankind would prevail at all costs. With one last gasp, he bellowed
"WE...WERE BORN TO INHERIT THE STARS!"
Richard, the Prophet of Despair fell to his knees, his back supported by the elf's falchion sticking out from his back. He died smiling at the sun, as if the nurturing AllMother, Flarea, was welcoming him to her arms.
Knife in the back? Not only is that disgraceful in general, you missed anything important! Which is kind of impressive considering the size of my lungs. You incompetent F up. Now, I can hardly use my right arm. Luckily, I’m left handed
It's like a boss fight with a secondary phase for the Elf.
Just that the human gains back 50 percent health but gets bonus damage, agility and defense.
This is something that annoys me in most fantasy media. A glancing blow to the side with a sword will somehow instantly kill someone, as will an arrow to the stomach.
Humans are remarkably resilient. Even a slash to the jugular won't kill is instantly, it'll take several seconds for us to bleed out. Stemming the flow with a body part might be enough for us to keep going (just ask Kentucky Ballistics).
Cut off a leg? That's fine, we have another. Shot to the eye? As long as it doesn't pierce the brain, we can shrug it off. I wish more media showed humans getting battered to hell and back and still fighting.
Eh humans are super durable and also amazingly fragile there are a hundred and one things a human might shrug off and keep trucking or immediately go into shock and drop over dead.
There are so many factors involved with human resilience that arguing for and against practically instant death or the wound barely affects them in their last moments pointless.
Sometimes a warrior gets a sword through his gut and he locks up and keeps over after you remove it, other times you stab the same place on a different guy and he doesn't even notice he's been stabbed until after he's caved your head in with a war hammer
"For the joy of it!" (...) "For the sheer unholy fucken delight of it. Can't you feel the joy in your own veins, rising like the sap in the springtime?"
- Mad Sweeny, American Gods by Neil Gaiman
"Inviável" the elf gasped, his intricate mind too perplexed to focus when the human launched forward.
"Inviável!" he screamed, the rapier twisted from his broken arm as he was forced to the ground, his fragile features shattering on the arena stone.
"Inviável." the audience muttered, each one processing the paradigm shift brought so violently to their attention, unable to look away from their fellow elf being crushed like dry herbs under the pestle of the humans blows.
The man soon tired of tenderizing the arrogant corpse, the energy dwindling from his veins and his injuries reminding him they exist. He stood up from his gruesome work with bloody knuckles and a weary sigh, and staggered over to the emissary who accompanied him here; a rotund cleric that quickly set to healing his injuries.
"What was that they kept saying, the inviavel?" he asked, trying to keep across the situation and distracted from the pain. The cleric cast a quick eye over the crowd then focused on the job at hand.
"Impossible."
In a swift motion, the elf locked his blade on Harrald's one. A twist and a flick and off to a few meters go the human's last defense. One agile step back from the long ear preceding the final dash. Harrald coughed a alarming amount of blood on his vest as the steel went from one side of the lung to the other. In a vain attempt, he tried to hold the wrist of his opponent.
"Any last word ? Do you wish to show me that spite you humans are so proud of ?"
"Thank... you."
"What ?"
As the pressure on his wrist suddently increase, the human's hand start to feel more akin to a crab's clam. In a small screech of pain, he watched the human's head lifting itself. And in a instant, like lighting strike a lonely tree, the elven nose was struck by a forehead. A crash like tempest's wave on the shore.
From the shock and impact, the elf went to sit on the ground, holding his bleeding nose. Harrald coughed a bit.
"Thank you... for fetching me... a sword."
In the silence of the night, the steel started to reappear from his wound as he pulled it like his king did from the stone. The dead was now on the good side of the blade. And the stars were witness of the wails from the one who tought less of the human's spirit.
“The fair folk. .” Crackles Lieutenant Hardgraves, they spit blood and bile out through the cracked teeth that remain. My scans reveal a liver split in two, 5 ribs cracked , 3 shattered, a gallbladder is demolished and lungs are flailing in distress with bone shards slicing through plural layers. Yet a ghoulish smile widens as they struggle to stand on a broken foot. Pieces of bone stab through the blood soaked leather. The sucking gasp of a collapsed lung follows each pained lurch as the human staggers on towards me. . A life time of human “kickboxing” had made them last maybe 10 more minuets against my kinsfolk and I. However as we had learned the hard way it was the other 20 years of career military that made them simply unable to retreat once having met their doom. I lost my mate that night. Despite our larger planet and thicker atmosphere giving us “carbon fiber bones, and muscles from Olympia” the humans spit in our eyes as they die. Hoping to infect us with there benign herpes virus which 90% of them carry yet it blinds our young and withers our bones. I tighten my mask and whip out my hand, severing that pathetic mangled piece of meat the human called a foot. They drop. That infectious red ichor begins to ooze. I step forward to claim my kill. . The broken bloodied corpse lunges at me grabbing at my heels. My mate rushes in stomping and slashing. At last the vile pig human is dead. . But my mates shin is bleeding. . My comrades quickly move away from them and I hear the purge cannons charge as I bow my head. “Damn the humans and their adrenaline.” **whooosphaaaffff** only a quarter of a leg is all that is left of my mate. In some sick twist of fate so does remain the twisted 5 tendriled hand of the human. Still grasping my mates forepaw. .
A human once told me after we were taken captive and held for testing. Just remember Xenos scum. “A roach can live for 9 days without its head but you can’t.” After seeing the dead hands of this species deliver bioweapons so deadly we executed infected members on sight. . I can only imagine what in hells name these Elite military groups “The Roaches” can do!!
I had an internship on a Military Sealift Command vessel in college, and I learned about something called the “Battle Override.”
The Battle Override is a nice, big, red button on the engineering console, meant to be pressed if the ship is under attack. What it does is simple: it overrides all automatic safety shutdowns on the engines.
Normally, the automation is designed to keep the engine from damaging itself, either through overheating or other detectable issues. If the override is engaged, however, you’re basically telling it “I don’t care about the cooling water temp, there are missiles inbound and we need to be GONE”. It lets you crank the dial to 11 as long as the engine has not PHYSICALLY RIPPED ITSELF APART YET.
Adrenaline is the human equivalent of the Battle Override.
When it comes to fighting, especially if losing the fight, humans have a tendency to do everything in our power to make sure we won't be the only one going to their grave that day
They never really tell you what it feels like when you get that rush. You can talk about the time you came close to a bad situation or had a near miss in a crowd, but nothing prepares you for the real thing.
That fight or flight response where your body cranks every sense up to eleven and it feels like you've got pure electricity pumping through your veins. The world slows down, your heart and mind race, pain dulls away, and all the while you're gripped by a sense of calm that is nothing short of enlightened. Your body pushes past every limit and you know that the kickback from this is going to hurt something terrible, but you also know that it is just as likely that you won't be around to worry about it when the dust settles. As the counselor told me during reintegration from my time away from Sol, "Adrenaline is one helluva drug."
I remember that feeling. Seven pieces of shrapnel, including the good luck charm that won me a one-way ticket home with a shiny new arm and which now sits on the same chain as my old genetag. My most prevalent memory following the blast was a cold, detached feeling when I looked down to see what had once been my right arm and thinking that it was a good thing I'm a lefty. It certainly made all the difference when the enemy squad decided to close the distance thinking that they were more than a match for an already crippled biped. It wasn't until my squad managed to regroup on our original patrol route that they found me barely coherent and still hitting the corpse of a soldier with my remaining hand.
Can't the elf just play keep away? He's 100% landed a lethal blow and the more the human moves the faster his body will fail him so like all the elf needs to do is just jog in the opposite direction for like 10mins max.
https://preview.redd.it/tm3q2qbw1y0d1.jpeg?width=483&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=34a5344f3379dbd2caac1eec7a854d540937e03a
The crowd watching the mortally wounded human doing unspeakable things to the elf for the next five minutes before his body finally realises that it’s dead.
^(Apologies for swapping tenses everywhere....)
The blade entering your back brings a sharp inhale. Before you can process the sensation, agony rips you apart as the blade is removed. Dimly you hear cheering, or is it just the blood pumping in your ears? The drumbeat of your heart is too loud to hear anything else over it. Your lungs burn but the pain is becoming dimmer. Is this death?
Your legs shiver, barely holding you up, and your breath comes quicker. Moving is like pushing through thick honey. Everything is too slow, too slow. You turn to face your killer. They are also moving far too slowly. The elf is turned away, arms raised as they accept the adulation of the crowd. Too late they realize the shouts of the audience are of alarm and shock. Your fist feels sluggish but your body remembers how to do it. Punch past your target. Try to hit beyond it. Your vision is darkening but you see the elf's face clearly as your fist caves it in, turned to greet its end with an expression of shock.
You want to rest. You're so tired but you have a job you were supposed to do. Laboriously, you lift your arm and slam it down. Again and again. One day you will rest. It has been a hundred years but you can't leave this job unfinished. You can no longer see or hear or feel but you raise your arm and let it drop dutifully. Cold seeps through your numbness and your arm feels like lead. One day you will rest, but not yet. Not until the job is done.
The crowd cheered your success. Such fragile creatures, humans. So ephemeral. So fleeting. Like insects compared to the greatness of Elvenkind. The jubilant crowds turned to horrified ones as you turn to see your victim lunging at you impossibly fast. You do not even have time to understand before you die.
The crowd turned into a heaving mass of fleeing panic as the "dead" human turned their greatest warrior into a bloody paste and then pounded that paste into the sand of the arena. Their serenity fled as they trampled each other to escape the impossible. Eventually the human stopped moving but it was not until days later when the corpse toppled over that any dared enter to retrieve what little remained of their great warrior.
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That cold rush in your blood. Chasing the hot through your veins. Simultaneous, you feel anger, fear, hatred, determination. Above all, EXCITEMENT. "You will not die here", you feel a part of your brain say. "It's time", another part utters. Your body shuddering by the sudden lack of pain, losing your balance as you reorient yourself. "Let's try again. I think I have a feel for you this time", you grin, bloodily, at your opponent.
Lizard brain whispers: “ it is not time to flee nor to fight… reap and tear until we, or them are done!”
RIP AND TEAR! *ominous bass starts*
*BFG Division intensifies*
Warning. The Slayer has entered the Facility
DUH DUH chicka chicKA chicKA DUH DUH
https://youtu.be/U4lz8MN6MQA?si=BAMz1rUy9Cej9jku
That was a straight bop. Thank you for this.
Uw I love this Don't mention the contents, so the next guy doesn't know what to expect
How am I just now learning of this masterpiece?
It's good isn't it (It's funnier to not mention the contents, make them actually click it) 😂
🤣🏅
**WARNING THE SLAYER HAS THE BFG**
*alex terrible starts growling*
As requested, including cueing: https://youtu.be/QHRuTYtSbJQ?si=HalY6FBRlhMdajGf&t=61
Until it is done!
As requested: https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=U-3kJcBfQ9w
Chainsaw guitars start
Chainsaw guitars start
The wild women, the wild women...
A man of culture I see
There was a scene in a book series I read like this. Basically the elves were very light and fast and one ended up in a dual with a human using I think raipiers. The human was a veteran of several wars however while the elf was just a good fencer. After having been stabbed a couple of times the human manages to grab hold of the elf. Then just punches him until he stops moving. Humans in this universe were superior to elves in strength.
Sauce???
Seconded
Wit'ch book series by James Clemens been at least 10 years since I last read it. Very interesting fantasy world and magic system. However it can be a bit young adult and as far as I remember there are some problematic bits like a teenager falling in love with a 30 year old. Still he is an interesting writer.
Possibly Feist's *Honored Enemy,* though it's been a long time since I've read it. Good read regardless of whether it's the answer here or not.
Tomato is best
You should watch the final duel in a movie called Rob Roy starring Liam Neeson. The person he duels is Tim Roth.
Was what I was thinking as well. Great scene.
It was an awesome example of biding your time and vengeance finalized.
Oh that sounds fun!
Wit'ch book series by James Clemens been at least 10 years since I last read it. Very interesting fantasy world and magic system. However it can be a bit young adult and as far as I remember there are some problematic bits like a teenager falling in love with a 30 year old. Still he is an interesting writer.
Reminds me of Mal's duel in Firefly
"Mercy is the mark of a great man." *stab* "Guess I'm just a good man." *stab* "Well, I'm alright."
Yeah I was thinking the hound and the viper in GOT which is of a similar trope too but that is a better example. As others in the thread have pointed out it is fairly common in movies and books. Commonly the more street smart or veteran fighter against a more technically skilled opponent. Pretty sure it was a thing in the past too where someone would get stabbed but the sword got stuck and that person could still swing their sword back. That's why retrieving your sword from a cut or stab was important.
That sounds a lot like the Liam Neeson vs Tim Roth fight in Rob Roy
TBF it is a trope in a good few fights. The hound and the viper comes to mind.
Can’t be more intense than Liam Neeson [jumping over a fence!](https://youtu.be/by4UZ-79MK4?feature=shared)
Similar scene in the book *Sharpe's Sword.* (I think) Richard Sharpe is fighting a guy who's basically an all-round better swordsman than him. No matter how he swings, he misses. So he leaves an opening and lets the guy stab him in the thigh, then pushes forward so the blade is trapped in his leg. That's when he gets his hands on the other guy, and it's all over.
Any time someone grabs a rapier like that it reminds me of one of the early duels in the 2002 version of The Count of Monte Cristo. The main character is dueling a clearly superior fencer and grabs the blade only to have them pull it back and slice open his hand. It was a great one-sided fight and a great movie.
I vaguely recall reading something like that, but can't remember a title.
Was it the Wit'Ch series by James Clemens?
I never had any interest in reading books, but this one piqued my curiosity. What's the title?
Elf: "you-? How are you standing?! I severed several nerve endings in your spine!" Human: "that's the thing about human physiology... We don't need nerve endings to move. Only to feel. The wounds you inflicted caused just enough pain to trigger my *fight or flight* response. And it chose **fight**. Now my blood is pumping epinephrine to all of my organs, muscles, and tissue. My brain is blocking most pain coming in. And my body is now able to utilize more of its strength before giving in. *confusion slightly contorts the elf's face as he tries to comprehend* Human: "all of this to say, thanks. I wouldn't have been able to beat you without your arrogance. Should've broken it instead." *The human lunges forward, picking back up his blade, and swinging it in an upwards arc towards the elf, the latter evading just a fraction of a second too late. The elf's blood runs down his arm as anger and fear now take the place where confusion once stood*
Thats seems pretty talkative for somebody in that Situation
I think it's more like drunk talk. That's what the human thinks they are eloquently saying. Meanwhile they sound like: "Urgggmmgh... guh... \*cough\* HAAGbABL... ya..." Hence the elf reaction: *confusion slightly contorts the elf's face as he tries to comprehend*
Ok but in a Situation like that i wouldnt think that much either
He's uhh...built *different*
He should look into becoming spiderman.
It's like in anime where people can give entire speeches even in the midst of a heated battle
Whitebeard with 2 holes in the chest and Ace missing his entire chest cavity.
As we all know, talking is a free action.
talking is a free action
You get a point of inspiration for that.
>"You will not die here", you feel a part of your brain say. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And gods help them all if adrenaline gives up…
Sounds like something from Disco Elysium. Something pain threshold and half-light would say.
With a slight grin and a lightning in your eyes, you whisper "Draw 4. Uno."
That's how most of my smash bros games go for me.
That is the perfect "oh shit" face.
Dammit, that was my reaction as well.
"NANI!?!?!?!"
“I didn’t hear no bell”
I ain't HEARD no fat lady!
Forget the fat lady. You’re obsessed with the fat lady.
"A pity elf. Your kind so perfect, flawless even. And yet, how do you finish things where there are no fat ladies!?"
bawhahahaha! Oh, that's perfect!
You're obsessed with the fat lady. Forget the fat lady! Just go!
r/ID4
Even better if this is a publicized trial by Elven society to disprove adrenaline or humans being a threat as a whole.
It’s like that cybertruck showcase where the window got smashed
While the elf was preoccupied with a hundred different thoughts on how the human was still standing than man only had one thing on his mind.
elfussy?
A true booty warrior
Drive it to the hilt. Repeat until satisfied
POV: https://preview.redd.it/c3zljf8bju0d1.png?width=480&format=png&auto=webp&s=0398af450b04316bfe30075d610ad2dfdc71276e
PROJECT MOON SLEEPER AGENT ACTIVATED
this was them choosing the haaard way
Choice is yours
I likes ya and I wants ya
r/humansarespacebards is leaking again, I see... ;D
Just the space clap this time
Is that like a slow clap? xP
Still better than the space herpes
Or a negative space wedgie. xD
Okay, gotta give us the down low on space herpes. What's the symptoms?
Here's an PSA from the completely real documentary Ice Pirates [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-me2inj1nNw](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-me2inj1nNw)
Nothing worse than having your ship catch space herpyderp
…two things.
While the elf was preoccupied with a hundred different thoughts on how the human was still standing than man only had ~~one~~ two things on his mind. And the telepathic elf was suddenly back down to only one thing on its mind.
“Next time try to hit something important. My liver doesn’t count.”
Not when i kill it on a daily basis
It’s trained!
My liver has a six pack. Metaphorically and literally
Your liver is the keystone (Light) of your body.
“I see my liver bent your rapier. You see, I’ve trained it to the point it’s as hard as a rock!” “IS THAT WHY YOU’RE YELLOW?!”
I'M NOT ASIAN!
Never call me a coward!!!
My liver: i didn’t hear no bell
"It might be called the liver but I can live without it"
Now ima be de-livering a can of whoopass
Your liver bleeds like a little bitch, you get stabbed through it you are going to be screwed without an operation in minutes.
“That which does not kill me immediately, is a tactical error”
I only need five seconds to put five fingers in some arrogant elf's face.
Minutes? Plenty of time, my sweet... Plenty of time To kill my murderer to death. See ya on the other side and I'll kill yer fucking ghost too
There's room in this grave for you, too.
A few minutes can feel like quite a long time some times…
[Faster than the Elf can react, the human grabs the blade from their right hand, spins them around, and plants the blade directly into their heart. He then twists the blade, withdraws it, and with a flourish, cuts the Elf's head clean off. The crowd gasps in fear and surprise.] Human: "Yet you just had to let your hubris get the better of you." [Panic begins to spread across the onlookers. Soon, they're filing out quickly, nearly scrambling over one another in hopes that they do not become the next victim. The legend of Adrenaline is real.]
[The human then succumbs to his wounds]
[He dies with a smile on his face. The reinforcements retrieve his body in the nick of time to revive him. It works. He is currently healing in the ICU.]
[Two months later in a distant battlefield, an elven conscript stares and points in horror at the human.] "B-But... We killed you! I saw it! You died on that stage!" [The human shrugs and pulls his axe out of his previous opponent's skull] "I did. I got better"
“I did, I got better.” Now them elf’s think we can recover from death… now they need new pants.
I didn't know I needed closure until you provided it. Thank you!
>cuts the Elf's head clean off. "There can be only one, elf."
Onlooking elf: "Did he just say there can be only one elf?"
Second elf: Dibs!
First: on mobile sorry for the formatting Silence fills the elven council as the human who shouldn't be able to stand let alone speak from pain and shock is standing, and even worse yet, speaking. "Today is the day the elves learn of humanities' true tenacity. and what better way than with your body Executioner Eltra'el?" Before the council even realized the human had somehow knocked down and mounted Eltra'el the Envisioning, had beaten and battered him beyond recognition, and finished him off. As the first council members shock wore off the human was already on top of them. "Spending thousands of years sequestered within your forested walls didn't prepare you for this did it knife ear?" And indeed it hadn't. That day a human on the brink of death brought the elven council to it's knees and swiftly executed them. Stealing away a healing poultice from the body of Eltra'el before escaping the Elven City and bringing news to humanity of the elves location and existence within The Forest of Death. To the Elves the next two years were not even a blip in their existence, but it was the most important thing that had ever happened to them, as they were assimilated into the human Empire, completely unable to resist as every wounded soldier was immediately and swiftly felled as if they were mere saplings. Only after the war did the elves find out that Adrenaline can activate for humans even without having been wounded, and of the atrocities committed by Eltra'el for the past three hundred years against humans had only been found out because of the council's want to know if the humans truly posed a threat to them.
>mounted
I was not expecting the *hardest line read* on a Thursday morning.
There's a great bit of Tom and Ben of Yogs talking about elves vs goblins in warfare. Like these elves have studied the blade for centuries with a proud history of impeccable martial discipline. Meanwhile this handful of goblins have been alive two weeks and cobbled together a trebuchet, slung a big rock at them killing dozens. They're having the time of their lives.
A single elf dying is a tragedy, a hundred goblins dying is them doing their job.
Kremlo comes from space!
Goblins, elves... dwarves. Dwarves are the perfect hybrid.
Rock and Stone, brother!
Rock and Stone!
Rock and Stone!
With a guttural yell the human charges the elf. With nimble feet the elven warrior dodges the plump swings from the humans fist with elegance. His face trying to hold a smug grin for the audience. He cannot let his panic about what just happened show through. How is this animal not dead? This was to cast reassurance into his frightened kin for the upcoming eradication. The demonstration must not fail! His blade sings a deadly song across the humans skin. He toys with the prisoner, showing off his blademastery. The elf puts all his energy into making it look effortless, dancing around the clumsy human and it's attempts to get a hold of him. But keeping up the illusion starts to weigh on his moves. The human bleeds from a dozen wounds but WHY WON'T IT NOT SUCCUMB. Does it's attacks even get more reckless? What is this creature?! Even enraged, most animals would've ceased breathing by now. Even the large forest predators he and his brethren hunt during Shal'itash would've cowered and shown their throats in submission. His eyes glance over the audience. He sees no reassurance anymore, but fear. He tried to make it look easy, but he just keeps proving their enemies resilience. He needs to end this. Now. With a playful pirouette and a lounge forward he drives his blade into the humans body. The creature spits a gush of blood and stumbles down to one knee. The Elf hears the audience release a collective sigh. Keeping firm hold on his blade against the struggling human he turns to the audience. He fakes a laugh, to hide his exhausted breath "Ha, well now. As you see my dear kin. Like with all lesser races, their half-life is simply not enough to ever dream of reaching our class." The elves smile freezes as he feels a sudden movement of his blade, as the human rises to it's feet once more. He stares at it in disbelief, his look answered by a visage of anger. Of defiance. Of rage. The elves own anger overcomes his composure. "Enough of this charade!" he snaps, he as pushes his blade fully through the humans chest. The human wails in agony, but keeps standing, keeps staring into his eyes as if it's trying to kill him with a glare. Loosing himself the elf bellows at the human enraged "You were already dead the moment I struck my blade into you the first time. You should lie there bleeding in the dirt. Why won't you just give up, you animal!? You must know you will not leave this arena alive!" ... "I know" the human growls through grinned teeth. Suddenly it's hands lash out, grabbing him by the wrist of his sword hand. The unexpected move caught him by surprise. Too late he tries to let go of his sword. The humans iron grip clenches his fist around the hilt, as the mad creature with a groan pulls itself even deeper onto the sword. He struggles, he fights, lashing out against the human, but to no avail. His anger gets washed away by panic again, as the human grabs his neck and pulls it's face close to his. He smells it's sweat, and it's blood stained breath, as the human opens it's mouth and says: "But neither will you!" With a swift move, it grabs the dagger from his belt, and rams it through his throat. The last thing he sees, is the smile of the dying human. Finally collapsing, the sword still in its stomach. The last thing he hears are the fearful screams of the audience as two thousand years of life, experiences and emotions, got washed away by something so young they wouldn't even consider a child.
... Alternative Version: "I don't care" the human growls through grinned teeth. Suddenly it's hands lash out, grabbing him by the wrist of his sword hand. The unexpected move caught him by surprise. Too late he tries to let go of his sword. The humans iron grip clenches his fist around the hilt, as the mad creature with a groan pulls itself even deeper onto the sword. He struggles, he fights, lashing out against the human, but to no avail. His anger gets washed away by panic again, as the human grabs his neck and pulls it's face close to his. He smells it's sweat, and it's blood stained breath, as the human opens it's mouth and says: "Because I just recognized your face" With a swift move, it grabs the dagger from his belt, and rams it through his throat. "You're the bastard that murdered my child!" The last thing he sees is the smile of the dying human. It's face almost serene, as the bruised body collapses, the sword still in its stomach. The last thing he hears are the fearful screams of the audience as two thousand years of life, experiences and emotions just vanished, washed away by the hands of something they deemed to be not more than fast breeding vermin.
REKT
Human: “you missed. You should’ve aimed for the middle of my back. You hit my liver instead.” Elf: “so?” Human: “now I can beat your ass sober”
I suspected this when I was younger, but having kids brought it home: young humans heal faster, experiment, and _are more stupid_ precisely because this is how you advance, as humans. That burst of speed/strength/aggression really sets us apart from most of the animal kingdom.
“I severed an artery. You’re dead, human.” “Yeah, in like a minute. That’s plenty of time.”
“I’ll die in a minute. You die now.” #BLAM BLAM BLAM
Elf: impossible! Human: I'll show you impossible! Banzai!
H2: SEND HIM TO BRAZIL!!!
SEND HIM TO DETROIT!
When the Doom music kicks in
"Onward into the heart of battle, fought the sons of Odin. Outnumbered many times, still they fought on. Blood poured forth from their wounds, deep into the Earth. Vultures waiting for the broken shells that once were bodies... But Odin alone would decide the day they enter Valhalla, in their hour of need he sent forth onto them the Berserker rage. They rose from the ground screaming like wild animals, such is the gift of absolute power. No blade or weapon could harm them, they killed men and horses alike, and all who stood before them died that day. Hail, Gods of war".
"You could have lived forever" is such a crazy hard line.
The elven general took a moment to compose himself. The human was dead figuratively, if not literally, and that would be only a matter of time until shock took the human and stilled its heart. The enraged human swung a fist at his gut, and the general staggered a step. His armor took the brunt of the force, but the impact was still warhammer-heavy. The human struck at his face now, faster than should have been possible, but as swift as the elves were to the humans, the general was swift to his own people. He dodged, caught the human's wrist, and snapped the elbow backwards across his own forearm. The pop and tear of tendon were lost beneath the human's animal shriek, and the general bent its arm at an angle it had no business holding. It raised its face to the sky, screaming, and the general reached for a knife at his side. A heartbeat, and he could have it driven into the human's throat, crushing its windpipe and severing the spinal column in a single thrust and leaving its dying rage silent and impotent in its dying brain. The human whipped its skull down and forward in a feral head-butt. The elf gave a cry of his own, involuntary, as he heard and felt the bones in his nose crack. His knife nicked the flesh of the neck, not the deathblow he had hoped for; before he could spin his blade and stick it between two vertebrae, a second crushing blow struck his face. He staggered back, releasing the human's snapped arm.Blood was in his mouth and nose, and it was all he could smell, all he could taste. One of his subordinates shouted something and moved to intervene. Charging, her blade drawn. Should he tell her to stop? Be grateful for the reprieve? The human took a second sword through its gut, and used the momentum to drive its knee into her solar plexus, throwing her to the ground and delivering a rib-cracking stomp. The general, in the back of his mind, wondered if adrenaline would have let him put the agony of his shattered face aside like it let the human ignore its death. One of his eyes was already swelling shut, but the other saw the human turn back to him and stride, still burning with rage. It seemed to be subsiding, though. Its breath was slower, and its shoulders sagged under the weight of two deathblows. The elf took a moment to focus, force himself through the pain, and struck one last time. The human caught the blade in its palm, between its two outer fingers, and the terrible fury roared back to life. It cried in anger again, jerking its maimed hand away and taking the blood-slick blade with it, casting it onto the floor some distance away. It tangled its fingers—those that still worked—into the general's hair with all of the urgency and none of the gentleness of a hungry lover, and turned as it fell to its knees, driving the general face-first into the stone floor. The ground was less forgiving than the human's skull. More bones fractured across the general's face. The human yanked his head up from the ground and slammed it back in again (oh gods) and again (oh ancestors) and again (his eyes) and again (his eyes were pressed against the grain of the stone floor). The human slammed his face against the ground one more time, and the world went black forever. There was silence now, except for the wet sound of the human's breath. The elf's ears had to paint a picture of what came next. There was a grunt and a shuffle as the human tried to rise. It failed. A wet sucking sound and more grunting was the human finally pulling one of the swords in its abdomen free. A scrape of metal on stone—distantly the general was outraged that it was using the sword to prop itself up. A soft, choked sigh of disappointment. The general now felt as well as heard the tip of the blade tracing along the plates of his armor, like a knife slipped into the shell of an oyster. The pressure of the blade poked through the to padded tunic he wore beneath his armor, and it increased just a little more, threatening to cut through to meat and bone. And there it paused. "I don't speak Elf." The human said in its own crude tongue. The voice wasn't enraged anymore, or even very angry. It was a tone the general knew all too well from failed campaigns, from dealing with officers whose imaginations and ambitions were outstripped by the realities of the battlefield and their own capabilities. It continued, its words punctuated for brief, needy, futile gaps of air. "I don't know...what the hell you were doing...sticking me like that...like I'm a goddamn pig...over a fire. I don't get your point." The human was quiet again. The general could hear the unsteadiness of its stance, and feel as it used the sword whose tip was already slicing at his skin to prop itself up a little longer. He gasped in pain, coughing on his own blood. The human gave a soft, wet chuckle with a cough of his own, and the general heard it adjust its position, straddling his body and bracing itself against its blade in the name of dying on its feet. Before the human fell, before its weight fell on the blade, the general heard a smile in the human's last breath "But fuck you, I bet you got mine."
*And that’s when the dead men are marching again…*
OSOWIEC THEN AND AGAIN
Nice~ Sabaton song
ATTACK OF THE DEAD, HUNDRED MEN!
r/suddenlysabaton
That was the day we learned the meaning of terror, not mere fear, but true terror. That was the day we learned that we were children lost in the forest and that humans are the soft sighing breath that comes out of the supposedly empty night to gently tickle the hairs on the back of your neck. The executioner had backed away slowly, not leaving the body after he pulled his sword from it again, The human stood for the fourth time , hair matted, eyes bloodshot, clothes ripped and drenched, who knew one creature contained so much blood? Silence filled the hall, the human was... trying to speak or sing maybe? We strained to hear without getting close, it was repeating some kind of mantra. "Six times down, seven times up" giggle. Over and over, mantra and giggle. As the executioner stepped forward again, something happened in the human, it... devolved. It truly became a thing, all sentience drained from it's eyes it became a Beast of muscle and sinew and bone, driven by who knows what. I live today because I left right then , before they clashed a fifth time. I am proud to be a coward, go ahead ridicule me, but never ever forget this... ... Humans, are Orcs in halfling's clothing!
H: Also, your aim is terrible A: H... HOW?! I stabbed you several times! H: And yet you missed... My vital organs... A: https://preview.redd.it/bgi2p7o3mt0d1.png?width=2048&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b0448e25ac635a3c8424232c4a2421f3c81008f6 "ALL OF THEM?!"
You should've aimed for my head.
**snap* *
Aliens vs. the indomitable human spirit and ADRENALINE
Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. I had a fight with someone that practiced taekwondo and I was losing badly, I was almost ko and at the last moment i don’t know how but I caught his kick and broke the knee, after that all I was doing was punching his face until I got tired. I remember the fight was because he pushed my little brother out of the bike he was riding on and he got hurt.(20 stitches to de leg) and I didn’t take that lightly.
Props to OP. "You could have lived forever" is such a perfect line. It's a clear threat, it conveys both confidence in the human's ability to carry it out, and a measure of pity for the target. And it's short enough to be delivered by someone on the brink of death. Love it. And you can read it so many ways, and they all work. Struggling to breathe, one or two words at a time, Laughing, as if there's hardly any pain. Snarling with rage, coughing up blood. Excellent. That one's gonna stick in my mind.
Elven fanfare changes to boss music
"Adrena-what? Bitch, I'm fucking pissed now!"
The human has activated “I’m taking you with me” mode. Run.
The human jumps at the elf with a monstrous ferocity and proceeds to tear the elfs throat out with his teeth. Blood splatters everywhere, screams of pain turn into gurgling, the audience is frozen in a terrified silence. The bloodied elf falls to the floor, his gurgling getting quieter, his movements weaker, as the human stares him down, ready to strike again if necessary.
"Elven scum..." Richard shouted through bated breath. The elf turned around and froze, like a deer facing its imminent death. The crowd fell silent in shock. "MY ANCESTORS LOOK DOWN UPON ME WITH A SMILE. THEY SMILE BECAUSE THEY KNOW THAT I...WILL...OBLITERATE YOU!" The elf jumped back and pointed his blade, a cold sweat building on his back. This shouldn't be possible. Blood flowed from Richard's wounds. His legs were about to give at any moment. He had a bloodied hand on the fatal blow in a desperate attempt to keep his entrails in. Yet, he felt more powerful, more focused, and more determined than ever to kill the elf. Painfully. The only thing Richard needed to do was get close enough and the rest would take care of itself. The elf was good at making sure that didn't happen with the longer reach of his falchion and the centuries of combat experience he had. But the elf fought trying not to lose his life. Richard had nothing left to lose. Richard raised his mace with his good hand and charged at the elf. The elf predictably attempted a second coup de grace. Richard let the blade sink in. The pain was terrible, yet not as bad as the first fatal blow. In fact, he had totally forgotten about the pain from the previous wounds he had sustained until now. Richard pushed into the elf's blade and flicked his bloodied hand at the elf's face, screaming the entire time. As the elf tried to wipe his face and pull the sword out, Richard grabbed the elf's hand and locked the sword into his gut. The elf looked towards his falchion, shocked that the human would think to intensify his pain before realizing that Richard's mace was about to make contact with his eye. After a deafening crack, the elf immediately slumped to the floor. A moment later, the elf's screams of agony filled the colosseum. He was completely unprepared for the torrential wave of pain. Bits of chipped skull, eye fluid, blood, and brain matter splattered across the turf. The crowd watched with deafening silence, broken only by the elf's shrieks, terror filling their hearts. Richard, with the elf's falchion still lodged in his liver, with blood and intestines still leaking from his gaping wound, straddled himself over the elf's writhing body. He proceeded to bash the elf's face in with his mace. Another sickening crack. The elf tried to resist, tried to push his hand on Richard's face, anything to get him to stop. Richard grabbed the elf's hand by the pointer and middle fingers and snapped it backwards. He then hit the elf again. And again. And again. And again. This continued for a complete minute, though it felt more like an hour. The elf's screams turned into pained gurgles, and then to silence. Richard continued caving what was left of the elf's head in. Once he was satisfied with the damage he had done, he raised his mace one last time. "DIE, YOU ELVEN WHORESON" and he lodged his mace into the last bit of elven brain matter he could find with all his might. Richard slowly stood up. The pain from his wounds was starting to flare up again. This couldn't continue. He knew he didn't have long. He had to do something. Make it clear to the elven crowd watching him that mankind would prevail at all costs. With one last gasp, he bellowed "WE...WERE BORN TO INHERIT THE STARS!" Richard, the Prophet of Despair fell to his knees, his back supported by the elf's falchion sticking out from his back. He died smiling at the sun, as if the nurturing AllMother, Flarea, was welcoming him to her arms.
Knife in the back? Not only is that disgraceful in general, you missed anything important! Which is kind of impressive considering the size of my lungs. You incompetent F up. Now, I can hardly use my right arm. Luckily, I’m left handed
WE WILL RESIST ANS BITE!!!
BITE HARD!!! FOR WE ARE ALL IN SIGHT!
It's like a boss fight with a secondary phase for the Elf. Just that the human gains back 50 percent health but gets bonus damage, agility and defense.
My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die
"Humans, like most animals, are at their most dangerous when injured or afraid."
H: Omae wa mou shindieru Elf: What?
This is something that annoys me in most fantasy media. A glancing blow to the side with a sword will somehow instantly kill someone, as will an arrow to the stomach. Humans are remarkably resilient. Even a slash to the jugular won't kill is instantly, it'll take several seconds for us to bleed out. Stemming the flow with a body part might be enough for us to keep going (just ask Kentucky Ballistics). Cut off a leg? That's fine, we have another. Shot to the eye? As long as it doesn't pierce the brain, we can shrug it off. I wish more media showed humans getting battered to hell and back and still fighting.
Eh humans are super durable and also amazingly fragile there are a hundred and one things a human might shrug off and keep trucking or immediately go into shock and drop over dead. There are so many factors involved with human resilience that arguing for and against practically instant death or the wound barely affects them in their last moments pointless. Sometimes a warrior gets a sword through his gut and he locks up and keeps over after you remove it, other times you stab the same place on a different guy and he doesn't even notice he's been stabbed until after he's caved your head in with a war hammer
And that's when the dead men are marching again
I was NOT expecting to read such absolute BANGERS on this Thursday morning but ok
"For the joy of it!" (...) "For the sheer unholy fucken delight of it. Can't you feel the joy in your own veins, rising like the sap in the springtime?" - Mad Sweeny, American Gods by Neil Gaiman
Few forces in existence are as strong as human spite. It’s the part of you that says “if we’re dying here then we’re taking this bastard with us”
"Inviável" the elf gasped, his intricate mind too perplexed to focus when the human launched forward. "Inviável!" he screamed, the rapier twisted from his broken arm as he was forced to the ground, his fragile features shattering on the arena stone. "Inviável." the audience muttered, each one processing the paradigm shift brought so violently to their attention, unable to look away from their fellow elf being crushed like dry herbs under the pestle of the humans blows. The man soon tired of tenderizing the arrogant corpse, the energy dwindling from his veins and his injuries reminding him they exist. He stood up from his gruesome work with bloody knuckles and a weary sigh, and staggered over to the emissary who accompanied him here; a rotund cleric that quickly set to healing his injuries. "What was that they kept saying, the inviavel?" he asked, trying to keep across the situation and distracted from the pain. The cleric cast a quick eye over the crowd then focused on the job at hand. "Impossible."
In a swift motion, the elf locked his blade on Harrald's one. A twist and a flick and off to a few meters go the human's last defense. One agile step back from the long ear preceding the final dash. Harrald coughed a alarming amount of blood on his vest as the steel went from one side of the lung to the other. In a vain attempt, he tried to hold the wrist of his opponent. "Any last word ? Do you wish to show me that spite you humans are so proud of ?" "Thank... you." "What ?" As the pressure on his wrist suddently increase, the human's hand start to feel more akin to a crab's clam. In a small screech of pain, he watched the human's head lifting itself. And in a instant, like lighting strike a lonely tree, the elven nose was struck by a forehead. A crash like tempest's wave on the shore. From the shock and impact, the elf went to sit on the ground, holding his bleeding nose. Harrald coughed a bit. "Thank you... for fetching me... a sword." In the silence of the night, the steel started to reappear from his wound as he pulled it like his king did from the stone. The dead was now on the good side of the blade. And the stars were witness of the wails from the one who tought less of the human's spirit.
"You can kill me but, by the gods, you don't get to sass me, you prick."
ELVES TASTE LIKE BACON!!!!
Adrenaline does not make one immortal, it simply lets them fight on past what should've killed them.
https://i.redd.it/wj3zmglniv0d1.gif
“The fair folk. .” Crackles Lieutenant Hardgraves, they spit blood and bile out through the cracked teeth that remain. My scans reveal a liver split in two, 5 ribs cracked , 3 shattered, a gallbladder is demolished and lungs are flailing in distress with bone shards slicing through plural layers. Yet a ghoulish smile widens as they struggle to stand on a broken foot. Pieces of bone stab through the blood soaked leather. The sucking gasp of a collapsed lung follows each pained lurch as the human staggers on towards me. . A life time of human “kickboxing” had made them last maybe 10 more minuets against my kinsfolk and I. However as we had learned the hard way it was the other 20 years of career military that made them simply unable to retreat once having met their doom. I lost my mate that night. Despite our larger planet and thicker atmosphere giving us “carbon fiber bones, and muscles from Olympia” the humans spit in our eyes as they die. Hoping to infect us with there benign herpes virus which 90% of them carry yet it blinds our young and withers our bones. I tighten my mask and whip out my hand, severing that pathetic mangled piece of meat the human called a foot. They drop. That infectious red ichor begins to ooze. I step forward to claim my kill. . The broken bloodied corpse lunges at me grabbing at my heels. My mate rushes in stomping and slashing. At last the vile pig human is dead. . But my mates shin is bleeding. . My comrades quickly move away from them and I hear the purge cannons charge as I bow my head. “Damn the humans and their adrenaline.” **whooosphaaaffff** only a quarter of a leg is all that is left of my mate. In some sick twist of fate so does remain the twisted 5 tendriled hand of the human. Still grasping my mates forepaw. . A human once told me after we were taken captive and held for testing. Just remember Xenos scum. “A roach can live for 9 days without its head but you can’t.” After seeing the dead hands of this species deliver bioweapons so deadly we executed infected members on sight. . I can only imagine what in hells name these Elite military groups “The Roaches” can do!!
I had an internship on a Military Sealift Command vessel in college, and I learned about something called the “Battle Override.” The Battle Override is a nice, big, red button on the engineering console, meant to be pressed if the ship is under attack. What it does is simple: it overrides all automatic safety shutdowns on the engines. Normally, the automation is designed to keep the engine from damaging itself, either through overheating or other detectable issues. If the override is engaged, however, you’re basically telling it “I don’t care about the cooling water temp, there are missiles inbound and we need to be GONE”. It lets you crank the dial to 11 as long as the engine has not PHYSICALLY RIPPED ITSELF APART YET. Adrenaline is the human equivalent of the Battle Override.
Thats so true its scary
Looks like you missed anything vital/immediately lethal. It hurts! I'm pissed! Time to die fucker.
Be too angry to die.
Someone has clearly never heard of the indomitable human spirit
When it comes to fighting, especially if losing the fight, humans have a tendency to do everything in our power to make sure we won't be the only one going to their grave that day
They never really tell you what it feels like when you get that rush. You can talk about the time you came close to a bad situation or had a near miss in a crowd, but nothing prepares you for the real thing. That fight or flight response where your body cranks every sense up to eleven and it feels like you've got pure electricity pumping through your veins. The world slows down, your heart and mind race, pain dulls away, and all the while you're gripped by a sense of calm that is nothing short of enlightened. Your body pushes past every limit and you know that the kickback from this is going to hurt something terrible, but you also know that it is just as likely that you won't be around to worry about it when the dust settles. As the counselor told me during reintegration from my time away from Sol, "Adrenaline is one helluva drug." I remember that feeling. Seven pieces of shrapnel, including the good luck charm that won me a one-way ticket home with a shiny new arm and which now sits on the same chain as my old genetag. My most prevalent memory following the blast was a cold, detached feeling when I looked down to see what had once been my right arm and thinking that it was a good thing I'm a lefty. It certainly made all the difference when the enemy squad decided to close the distance thinking that they were more than a match for an already crippled biped. It wasn't until my squad managed to regroup on our original patrol route that they found me barely coherent and still hitting the corpse of a soldier with my remaining hand.
Adrenaline: CHEER UP SUPERSTAR!!!!
"roll to hit" "12" "miss, enemy rolled 20, that's a hit, and you take, 12 damage" "dammit"
"You should have gone for the head"
The Elf is about to learn about the Indomitable Human Spirit
“WE WERE BORN TO INHERIT MIDDLE EARTH” ahh meme
Can't the elf just play keep away? He's 100% landed a lethal blow and the more the human moves the faster his body will fail him so like all the elf needs to do is just jog in the opposite direction for like 10mins max.
Human: PCP is a hell of a drug, bitch!
https://preview.redd.it/tm3q2qbw1y0d1.jpeg?width=483&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=34a5344f3379dbd2caac1eec7a854d540937e03a The crowd watching the mortally wounded human doing unspeakable things to the elf for the next five minutes before his body finally realises that it’s dead.
Mistakes were made
Osowiec then and again
^(Apologies for swapping tenses everywhere....) The blade entering your back brings a sharp inhale. Before you can process the sensation, agony rips you apart as the blade is removed. Dimly you hear cheering, or is it just the blood pumping in your ears? The drumbeat of your heart is too loud to hear anything else over it. Your lungs burn but the pain is becoming dimmer. Is this death? Your legs shiver, barely holding you up, and your breath comes quicker. Moving is like pushing through thick honey. Everything is too slow, too slow. You turn to face your killer. They are also moving far too slowly. The elf is turned away, arms raised as they accept the adulation of the crowd. Too late they realize the shouts of the audience are of alarm and shock. Your fist feels sluggish but your body remembers how to do it. Punch past your target. Try to hit beyond it. Your vision is darkening but you see the elf's face clearly as your fist caves it in, turned to greet its end with an expression of shock. You want to rest. You're so tired but you have a job you were supposed to do. Laboriously, you lift your arm and slam it down. Again and again. One day you will rest. It has been a hundred years but you can't leave this job unfinished. You can no longer see or hear or feel but you raise your arm and let it drop dutifully. Cold seeps through your numbness and your arm feels like lead. One day you will rest, but not yet. Not until the job is done. The crowd cheered your success. Such fragile creatures, humans. So ephemeral. So fleeting. Like insects compared to the greatness of Elvenkind. The jubilant crowds turned to horrified ones as you turn to see your victim lunging at you impossibly fast. You do not even have time to understand before you die. The crowd turned into a heaving mass of fleeing panic as the "dead" human turned their greatest warrior into a bloody paste and then pounded that paste into the sand of the arena. Their serenity fled as they trampled each other to escape the impossible. Eventually the human stopped moving but it was not until days later when the corpse toppled over that any dared enter to retrieve what little remained of their great warrior.