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Bloodsworn Ch. 2.36
🕑 Added 2025-05-06 23:30:32 +0000 UTC36.
Ding! Ding! Ding! The tap of Erak’s armored finger on his new forged blade was loud in the close confines of the shuttle. A few nervous members looked over to him as he smiled in the hidden depths of his helm. Six feet of gleaming blade reflected the poor light in the shuttle, dark rippled floating down the sword.
Bloodsworn’s Ice-Dragon Greatsword
Rare
A Unique Weapon with growth potential forged for Erak the Bloodsworn. Current grade is Rare. Will grow with the deeds of its owner.
Strength multiplier 1.5x
Passive: Chilling Aura
Chilling Aura: Slowing effect on all enemies in range of the blade. Can be melded with other aura abilities.
Pomp had been thrilled with the thought of melding aura abilities together, but Erak liked the slowing effect more. There was trepidation to the aura powers, how they filled him with strength, but also near suicidal amounts of bloodlust. He could not fall here, not when he had duties to complete.
There had been a bit of worry about Snowbeard delivering the blade in time, but the old dwarf had fulfilled his word by arriving right before the loaded onto the shuttles to be ferried to the Sword of Empire.
The shuttle docked with a slight shudder and Erak was on his feet and standing before the door before the crew chief could say a word. The rest of his militia was a bit slower. The survivors of his training had managed to fit tightly into one of the shuttles, only thirty in number.
Aside from the ones who had fallen in the warrens beneath the dwarven keep, none had died. Injuries had been dealt that enough were now out of commission. They had managed to build up at least a modicum of cohesion that Erak didn’t think they’d break at first contact with the enemy. Nevia and her platoon were going to be the next shuttle loaded up and brought to the ancient warship. Then the rest of the support staff who would be tasked with emptying the depot.
Steel creaked and the nearly empty shuttle bay was unsettling as Erak trekked across it, his militia following in his wake. A few former courtesans, still dressed more provocative than a normal soldier would, glanced at him as they passed. Illyria had conscripted all the survivors from her stand at the Red Swan into the crew. Rumor had trickled back to him that they took to it with more vigor than his own volunteers.
“Lord Bloodsworn? Where should we bunk down?” The militia’s current commanding officer, a middle aged man named Burke, asked. He had distinguished himself through not being as objectively as putrid as the rest. Pomp slithered out of Erak’s chest, still tired from his work in forging the blade, and spoke for him.
“Follow until we have found the proper staging area.” The dragon slunk back into his armor and Erak traced his way back to the bridge. Halfway there he was met by a small delegation of three more elegantly dressed sailors. One of them had epaulets on their shoulder to mark themself as an officer.
She stood straight and tall but hardly reached Erak’s sternum and she craner her head back to look up at him. Her dark hair was twisted into a knot at the back of her head. Dark eyes looked at him with a mix of suspicion and alarm, though she was too skilled to let it leak across her face.
“Lord Bloodsworn, the Captain has asked me to lead you to the bridge. Your men can find rest in quarters. Norro, show them to quarters,” the woman snapped at the rakish man next to her. Pearlescent teeth shone under the light as the man smiled widely at his militia. Erak heard one of the women gulp loudly as the officer led them away.
“I’m First Mate Finney,” the woman introduced herself as she spun on a heel and marched away with brisk strides. Her still unnamed comrade followed behind them and Erak’s neck pricked at the thought of an unknown person behind him. Pomp sent a pulse of reassurance to him as the dragon watched the man.
It took only a few minutes to find an elevator that whisked them to the top of the ship and toward the bridge. The door opened and they spilled out on the bridge. It was the first time he had been on the ship since it had shaken off the dust. Not much had changed, just a few bridge officers standing in front of consoles or displays. Captain Illyria stood near the front of the bridge with Sword.
The spirit still stood as proud as a warrior queen, but hints of age had creeped back into her visage. Sword turned and looked at him and her eyes were filled with death. Erak saw the death of ships in the glow of her eyes. Fires burning beneath her prow as tattered pennants fluttered in the wind.
“Bloodsworn,” she rumbled, the sound of cannon fire rattled Erak’s ears. He drew his helm off and looked at the spirit, eye to eye. She had swelled as he walked till she stood just a hair taller than he was. Illyria laughed at the spirit and Sword seemed to realize she was peacocking. She didn’t shrink.
“Erak, it’s good to see you. I’m sorry my officers weren’t on hand to greet you and guide you. They were a bit slow. The rest of them will all be settled together,” Illyria said with a hint of frustration.
“I know the headache of training,” Erak signed to her after he clipped his helmet to his belt. The greatsword was in its scabbard and over his shoulder while his warhammer sat heavily on his hip.
“Yes. Dumping on you this militia is…unwise. Though you have the chance to forge something special,” Illyria said.
“The Conqueror built the First Legion this way. I wonder if you can live up to that mantle? It is good to see you shed the false armor of shadows of the past.”
Erak looked down at his armor and couldn’t repress the smile that stretched his burnt skin.
“It was ill-fitting, carrying the false armor of the Conqueror’s companions. You will create your own legends, Bloodsworn,” Sword said, her voice amused at his title.
“Ignore her. She’s been downright hostile since we’ve started cleaning her up.”
“You fools keep breaking me!” Sword bellowed and everyone in the room flinched at the sudden volume the old spirit was able to conjure up. Sword bristled and then shrank a few inches to stand between Illyria’s and Erak’s height.
“It matters not. We sail on for battle,” Sword said. Fervor lit her face and her lips turned blood red.
“We do sail for battle. This is our first official expedition, Erak. Most the systems are still either down or malfunctioning. Including in-ship communication. We’re using a system of runners to ferry word, but you need to know. The trip won’t take long to arrive at the depot, but we’ll need your militia ready to launch the moment we do.”
“Not a problem. Do we have weapons to support ground troops?”
“I can open a hatch and throw rocks at them. We are still weeks if not months away from having her truly battle ready and having researched, I think we’ll have to travel. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I’ve already gotten Victoria’s permission, but I want your as well. When this is over, I want to take you and your command and fly to several of these installations that’ll have the parts we need to repair, Sword.” Illyria asked without begging and Erak admired her for it.
“If it is my Queen’s will.” Erak hid the desire in his heart for the chance of a challenging fight. There was little left in the area once they cleansed these goblins.
“Good. Now, I have the maps here. We can go over the details again once your officers arrive,” Illyria said as she walked to a section of wall that had been covered in maps.
