#gorrem

This didn’t get much love on Reddit but maybe you all will like it :P When @motigagames released #Gigantic a few weeks back I got inspired to write a little bit of fanfic. It’s not something I normally do, but the entire team has been through so much during development of the game that I wanted to make something to show that, yes, their game is amazing and inspirational. Shout out to @gorrem and @lexxercise, two of the artists on the game whose art I adore! @Gorrem also gave me a beta key back during closed beta so extra points for him ^_^

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Blade struck iron in a storm of clangs and grunts. Tyto’s arm was a whirl of cutting steel, each flash a precise strike ready to meet flesh, but foiled by heavy, black armour. The Margrave could never match his attacker’s speed, his massive form encased by metal, eyes hidden behind a massive, single horned helmet. Any bulkier or slower and Tyto would have had the beast bleeding out by now, stuck like a ravenous boar a dozen times over. Unfortunately, such luck was in short supply.

The chaos around them was forgotten, the muted cacophony of the greater battle set aside like clothes on a riverbank. They would come back to it in time. For now, in this moment, there was only their noise, their music. With a crescendo, the Margrave moved on to the attack, his shout a forest of burning, snapping trees. Tyto stepped back, gliding, but kept their face stoic. Now it was time for the iron monstrosity to miss his mark.

Neither warrior, each pledged to a different house and gigantic beast, had left the other unscathed thus far. Blood splattered the dirt at their feet, each drop a crimson apology, their bodies sorry for betraying them. Thin trails of smoke drifted up into the wind from Tyto’s ruby cloak, the Margrave’s massive burning fist a gauntleted fireball. It was rumoured he had fought a demon and won, ripping the creature’s arm from its socket and grafting it to himself. Seeing it in person, feeling it’s burning strength, Tyto was certain of one thing. Some rumours are, indeed, true.

Their melee was not an elegant dance or a vicious brawl, but an ugly mix of both. The Margrave hurled himself towards Tyto with reckless anger, arms like oversized war hammers, his fists tearing chunks from the earth as though they were wet paper. He was a battering ram, a force unable to move anywhere but forward. Roaring, he would throw himself towards his owl-faced opponent, one misstep threatening to gore Tyto in a single piercing thrust. The Margrave was a spiked fortress on two legs, fighting like a machine of war.. Every fortress, however, has it’s weaknesses.

Tyto was the wind to the Margrave’s stone ore. Where he bashed, they glided. Where he tore, they sliced. Where he roared, they whispered. One blade, one strike. Tyto cut and slashed and stabbed only when they saw an opening, only when the Margrave opened himself too wide or moved too slowly. It was hard, grueling work, but success is a mother of great patience. Not every single section of the Margrave was heavily armored, though that was easy enough to tell from the beginning of their house’s contest. It was piecing those unprotected portions that proved infuriating, the demon armed behemoth too reckless and wild to deal a clean blow. Yet, no matter how feral an animal, how strong of will, they are all similar in at least one regard: they tire.

Exhaustion burned Tyto’s limbs, legs no less nimble and arms no less fluid, but cursing every second that went by without rest. Flip after flip, dodge after precise dodge, their body cried out. Tyto ignored it.. Their focus remained on a singular goal: bring down the beast. Nothing else mattered. Fatigue set her seductive hands on their shoulders. Watching the Margrave, weighed down beneath a five man’s share of iron, it was easy to see tiredness had settled atop him too. It made no difference, powerful as he was, or how many abyssal appendages he grafted to his body. The Margrave still grew tired and on the battlefield, such a state makes one falter.

Another punch from the demon fist. Too wide. Chest thrown too hard to the left. Legs overextended.

A mistake.

The wind became a tornado. In that moment, that split second of failure, Tyto became a one-armed dervish, a hurricane sent to tear down the castle that was the Margave, brick by brick, piece by black iron piece. Fang, the warrior’s rodent companion and second arm, leapt and bit in concert, sinking sharp teeth into any scrap of neck, arm, leg, and heel to be found. Tyto was a whirlwind, a force of unbound nature set to destroy, to render useless that which had no place in their path forward. The looming fortress must be brought low. They would shatter it with steel.

Clank. Chink. Clank. Bang. Clank. For every slice that found its mark, every flesh torn by Fang’s frenzied attacks, Tyto’s blade bounced and jerked off the Margrave’s iron hide. Faster, faster, faster. All thought went to speed, all reflexes pushed to their limit. In the split second their enemy’s misstep granted them an advantage, they cut into him like an angry butcher, armour forgotten. There was flesh and they would strike it. They would cut it from the bone.

A whisper of seconds passed by, then were silent. Tyto jumped back, legs ready to buckle, sword drooping and ringing in their burning hand. They fell to a knee, Fang skittering up to rest on Tyto’s shoulder, white fur streaked as red as its eyes. The pair watched the Margrave, breaths coming ragged, their foe slumped to the ground, head bowed and pulsing demon arm outstretched, holding up his bulk. His breath too came quick and angry, the breathing of a dying boar, its fury no less diminished by the blood pouring from its wounds. With an effort, Tyto stood up, adjusted their cloak, and moved to stand over the Margrave. He made no move when the owl-faced duelist set their blade against his neck.

“You betrayed your house.”

The Margrave struck when Tyto threw their sword arm wide, readying steel to sever bowed neck. Their weapon clattered to the ground, useless, the duelist’s body clutched in the burning fist of the now standing Margrave. Fleshed burned, smoke and scream wafting from Tyto in equal measure as they tried to break free of the searing grasp. Like a child with a stolen toy, the black iron behemoth slammed his enemy into the ground. Once. Twice. Three times. Dazed, they stopped struggling. When Tyto could no longer think, no longer see less than double, the Margrave brought them close, eyes hidden behind the horned mask but cracked lips and sharpened smile swirling in the owl-warrior’s vision.

“Aurion’s is a house of fools!” Crunch. Burning mixed with breaking. Tyto shrieked, a bird of prey crushed by a catapult’s boulder. They fell to the ground, dropped by the Margrave’s hand like a broken cup. Discarded.

Before darkness claimed the duelist, the cacophony of the world slowly dying as life left them, a flash of steel caught their eyes. A shaft, wooden, sunlight glinting off its tip. A spear. Why a spear?

Knossos. The minotaur lord had come to aid them, though his timing left something to be desired. From the pained growl that set their ears ringing, Knossos was sure to have hit his mark. Tyto let their eyes close with a smile, the concerned chittering of Fang forgotten.

+++

Wind whipped Tyto’s half cloak, the deck of House Aurion’s airship coming into view after what seemed only a few moments. Memory failed the warrior for a time but it all came back to them soon enough. The war between the houses. Sanctum Falls. The Margrave. An echo of pain sounded through their body. The roar of anger drowned it out.

Tyto looked to Fang, ready and waiting on his shoulder. They nodded and ran leaping off the airship to the battle still raging below, sword outstretched at their side. The sight of stone ruins and green grass set a brief cloak of calm across their shoulders.

Flat digital painting of Cheetara by Devon Cady-Lee.

Devon Cady-Lee • "Tide Leopard"

Visual Development Artist at Warner Bros. Entertainment

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