To my few, but enthusiastic readers, I sincerely apologize. For far to long, have you waited for the next chapter in this story that I started as a mere whim. For far to long have you been neglected, as I have set idly by, unable to dig deep enough to find the motivation and inspiration to produce more. To make matters worse, this is a somewhat shorter chapter. To further compound, I can't say for sure when the next one will be. Honestly, I'm still not even sure where I'm going with this. Nevertheless, here it is at long last; Chapter 3. Please enjoy.

Chapter 3: The Advancing Giant.

Marceline sat on the rock, staring out into the rain. She no longer felt like floating freely. Her mind was far to heavy with the burden of processing what she had just witnessed. A few yards away, Finn, still in his boxers and shivering slightly, held out the canteen he had brought along, slowly letting it fill with rainwater. At his feet were scattered ashes that he kicked at lazily; all that remained of the storm giant. The spectacle that had just unfurled had been a true marvel that, even in the vampires exciting life with her adventurous friends, did not occur often in Ooo. The human male; a skilled swordsman and deceptively clever warrior since before she had known him, had displayed skill and finesse, the likes of which would have made even the great warrior Billy, beam with pride. And yet, Finn had been fortunate on this day. He had fought but one of the titans of fables lost, and it hadn't even been among the larger ones. Even with her assistance, (which had been limited, given her unshakable shock and stunned disbelief), the fight had taxed the young warrior, considerably. Though he acted calm, and appeared collected, she could hear his heart pounding. He controlled his breathing well, however, and soon his pulse was back to normal. Saying nothing, he continued to fill his canteen up till the amount of water within was satisfactory, at which point he drank heartily. He remained silent for some time, which was uncharacteristic, however apropos. Furthermore, it gave Marceline time to reflect on all that she had just witnessed.

When the beast had appeared, the clouds themselves seemed to split with thunder, and it hurled straight towards them, it's eyes gray like the clouds from whence it had appeared, sparking with the power of lightning. It had crashed into the rock right at the human's feet, sending debris everywhere. Shaking through the hesitation, Marceline had leapt forward, accelerating rapidly, and twisting around, aiming her boot right at the monsters head. One kick, and she could send it careening down the mountainside. Whether or not this would destroy the creature she was uncertain, and doubted it would. However, such an attack would buy her and the human time to retreat, or at least find a better place to fight. Being firmly stuck between a rock and a Storm Giant was not a favorable scenario. One kick, and she could alter the odds how she liked. The boot connected, but not to it's target. The creature saw her coming, and with amazing speed, grabbed her foot, tossing her over the cliff. Even as it touched her, a force of energy coursed through the vampires body, tightening her muscles, shaking her very bones. For a moment, her ancient heart, long still, attempted rhythm. It was incredibly painful. It was also incredibly disorienting, and she plummeted dangerously far.

Seeing this, Finn cried out. "Marceline!" The monster turned it's attention to him as he ran up, and succeeded in delivering a kick square in its chin. Unfortunately, the force was not enough to cause it to loose it's grip digging into the craggy rock, nor to cause serious damage to it's face. It merely grinned at him blankly, and roared. It was a chilling sound; the unearthly pitch, and booming volume of which made even the seasoned warrior go rigid in discomforted surprise. He had no time for fear, however, as the new opponent began climbing up to greet him, taking a large, deceptively fast swipe as it did so. Tumbling to his left, Finn hit the dirt, rolling onto his back, spinning at the same time and managing to kick his backpack off the rock it had been laying on. He then dove behind it, narrowly avoiding the monsters foot as it came down fast and hard, booming like thunder and leaving a spider web crack in the stone. He grabbed the sack and rolled out from behind it, even as the Storm Giant picked it up with a single hand, tossing it indifferently off the cliffside, his clothes drifting out of site along with it. For the first time, the human got a good look at his enemy. It stood at roughly 9 feet, nearly the height of the outcropping itself. It had pale, grey skin, similar in color to Marceline's, but cloudier, and with visible veins coursing with black blood. It's face looked human-esque, but did not appear to have any intelligence. It's impossibly large mouth wore a fixed and hideous grin. It's long hair was wiry and white with a bluish tint. Truly it was a horrifying visage, though he did not allow himself ample time to inspect it, as it continued to attack him with the speed and force that belied conviction, yet carried an air of indifference. It's gangly limbs struck fast, and he was only able to dodge the first two strikes. The third connected with his arm, spinning him completely around. This was serious. Finn knew from the amount of force, and from the fact that his feet had barely been on the ground when being struck that a direct hit would have broken something. The fight had to end, and soon. Thinking quickly and acting quicker, he used the momentum to turn his back to the giants arm, bracing himself against it. His body tingled from the mere touch. As it reached to grab him, he pulled a knife from a loop on the outside of his pack, plunging it into the monsters hand. It roared in what he could only guess was pain, but barely slowed down. He had expected the attack to do more, but the time it bought him was only just enough. Finn ducked down, rolling backwards, and frantically tearing open the flap on his backpack.

...

Though still in a daze, Marceline had managed to slow her decent. The rain served as a double-edged sword. It's cold and frigid assault drove her to shake the tingling numbness and pain from her body. It also fed and agitated the lingering current that now made her hairs stand on end, but at least she had managed to drift back up towards the cliff from which she had been so crudely tossed. Her plan, as she was by and by regaining enough cognizance to formulate one, was to take advantage of the fact that the monster seemed to now be focused entirely on it's mortal adversary, and put sufficient space between them to gain enough momentum for a more effective attack. When she saw the fight unfolding however, it had more than distracted her. Finn was barely even attacking. He was merely avoiding it, or nearly so, with a series of surprisingly dexterous rolls and tumbles. He managed to stab it square in the hand with little effect, but even that had seemed less like an attack strategy, and more a delay to put distance between him and the beast. What happened next was, quite literally, legendary, and would have left her breathless if her lungs were operational.

With nothing more than a moments pause gained from driving a blade into the giants hand, the hero had ducked under its arm, rolled back a mere two yards away, reached into the tattered old sack, and pulled out the empty hilt of a sword. The vampire stared at it, her mind hazy, as if a part of her recognized it, but was instinctively in such disbelief that her eyes could not physically comprehend it. The empty hilt was almost a foot in length, and wrapped from pommel to guard in faded brown leather. Both the pommel and guard appeared similar to, yet different from cast-iron, and were ornately wrapped with bluish wire. On each there were several deep crimson jewels, darker than any ruby, and as smooth as polished pearls. Slowly, what Marceline was staring at began to dawn on her; a hilt of unknown metal with no blade, bejeweled with fine red stones. As if Finn, or his edgeless weapon, or both were reading her mind, a soft blue glow began to rise up from hilts empty hole from which the blade should have been protruding. An unknown energy, separate from the gusts of the storm whipped his hair about. and smoke began pouring from the hilt.

The Storm giant noticed it too, staring in confusion. From inside the smoke, a blue light grew brighter, spewing fourth, almost blinding. Then, it subsided, condensing and taking shape into what looked like a blade. The hilt had forged a blade out of pure light! Of course, Marceline told herself it was impossible, just as she had the last time she had seen it, nearly 400 years ago. She had little time to dwell on this turn of events, as the towering monster, remembering itself, lunged at Finn. With one large arm grabbing straight for his face, the other swiping at his legs, and too little room to appropriately counter either attack, he leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding having his skull squished like a jelly-filled balloon. This shook the demoness out of her awe as well, and she remembered her plan. Even if what she was seeing was real, even if Finn really was wielding the ancient weapon, he would still have a serious fight on his hands. And silly mortal or not, Marceline wasn't about to let a friend go unaided in the heart of battle. Grod, she had definitely been spending too much time with the goodie-goodie human.

Back on the cliff side, Finn took short, controlled swings and the Storm Giant, trying to bide his time to find a good opening without over extending himself. He was far from worn down, but he also knew that this particular fight would offer very little in the way of opportunities. He dodged another strike, this one nearly knocking him straight off the cliff, and sending rubble tumbling down the mountainside. Taking advantage of the beasts forward reach, he slipped behind it, but was marginally too slow, and it whirled around, grabbing him by the torso and slamming him hard into the side of the cliff. He gasped, dazed. The hit had taken the air right out of his lungs, and shaken him all the way to his teeth. Some of his newer ones; the ones that Princess Bubblegum had forced him to buy with his own treasure, as a means to discourage him from his nasty habit of biting rocks, felt as though they might come loose. His body ached and his head spun, but he fought with sheer force of will to regain his composure and fight back. Through a combination of instinct and dumb luck, he saw a blur directly in front of his face, and turned his head, narrowly avoiding a strike that penetrated the very stone beside him. The giant had punched a hole in solid stone, and it made a sound like thunder. The sound was all he needed to snap him back into the fight. In the next moments, everything happened at once. Finn breathed in, forcing the cold, wet and thick air back into his lungs. The monster jerked it's hand from the rock wall, sending chunks of stone bouncing off the back of Finn's head, even as it drew back for another, strike, this time, determined not to miss. As it did so, the young hero caught a glimpse of movement behind the monstrosity, darting to the left. Without looking, he knew it's trajectory. Closing his eyes in concentration, and gripping the hilt of his light blade tightly, Finn thrust it out to his right, away from the creature. It thrust it's powerful hand towards his face for the killing blow, but never had time to connect. Just then, Marceline struck the creatures head at full speed. It's neck bent to the side, it's body following. Briefly loosing control of it's reflexes, it let go of Finn, and he turned his body, swinging the mystic sword inward and towards the giants torso. It connected and penetrated. He gripped the bottom with his other hand, putting every bit of force he had into the swing, slicing the adversary in half like hot butter. As it flew towards the other end of the shelter, roaring in anger and confusion, hot, fowl smoke plumed from its wound, electricity crackling in the air. It hit the wall with a final shriek, and exploded in a cloud of dust, and smoke, and lighting, and thunder. Finn landed, wobbly, but unharmed, and opened his eyes. Marceline touched down softly, a few yards away. The two stared at each other, saying nothing.

`The rain continued in a gentle and rhythmic beating against the rock, falling softer now. The wind, lightning and thunder, gone, all that remained was a gentle and steady rain. The storm had passed for the moment, but both knew that it was but a precursor of things to come. Finn felt a tickle in his throat, and an odd sensation in the back of his nose.

"Achoo!"

Marceline sighed, though more from exasperation than guilt. "Great...", she muttered, to herself, watching sympathetically, as the hero wiped his glistening nose with the back of his hand. Shaking off the sneeze, and walking awkwardly, fighting the shivers which now plagued him, he bent over, reaching into the tattered back pack, pulling out his canteen. Kicking lazily at the scattered dust, he extended the apparatus into the drizzling rain, and began to fill it.