A pang in Renaldo’s gut, a tremble in his hand. This was going to hurt. A lot. “Holy s**t,” he said to no one, and bit down on the rise in his throat.
Greatsword and pick notwithstanding, he would have no margin of error. One mistake, he realized, and he would be buried, here.
The giant stood before him, just out of range now, monstrous and bristling in his lethal black armor. He was human, Renaldo could see that much; there were human eyes, hard and deadly, behind the fanged mask. What he’d thought were spikes turned out to be scales and skulls.
The knight set his sword in the grass tip-down, a full foot of hardwood handle and an egg pommel dripping and glistening above a squared ricasso for close play. The blade was four fingers wide if it was anything, though he had no doubt it dance
