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Bloodsworn Ch. 2.18
🕑 Added 2025-03-20 22:39:07 +0000 UTC18.
“You look strange without your armor,” Nevia’s voice echoed down the hall as the small soldier leaned against a wall. Her eyes roamed up and down Erak’s long frame and there was a hint of disapproval there. Erak raised a hand and flashed a questioning sign and Nevia understood his meaning.
“You’re still imposing, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that extra level of…danger, is gone.” Nevia shrugged at the end of her statement.
I miss the armor too. I won’t be able to be as aggressive as I like.
“I like this version of you. You look more human and not so much a specter of death,” Sammus said as he came around the hall. The elvish prince’s steps were silent, his soft leather boots not making a sound on the polished stone.
“Oh, Erak. They think you aren’t death incarnate simply since you don’t have your armor,” Lady Torpin said with a laugh as she came around the same corner Sammus had just come from. Erak shrugged a single shoulder and began to check his gear now that everyone was here. Victoria hadn’t been able to come down here to see them off, but had sent Torpin with Snowbeard’s key and an older map of the older tunnels.
“You do not understand what Erak is. What Lord Glacies made him. But Erak knows. He may pretend to be a shield for our Queen, but he is a blade first and foremost. Aren’t you, Erak?” Torpin’s last words had a hint of venom at the end as she stared at him.
Erak nodded slowly and just once. He saw no need to elaborate what the bitter aide had already said. She had been around just as long as he had, living in the Northern palace and growing up together under the watchful eyes of the Northern Lord. She had seen and experienced what it took to become like Erak.
It had not a pleasant experience for her.
“Here is the key to the vault.” She shoved a long cylindrical key with a half thousand small teeth cut into its lustrous jade. Erak handed the key off to Nevia immediately, there was a sense of fragility there that he didn’t trust himself with. Not with the way he fought and killed.
“And these are the copies of the lower halls. We have marked where the sentries are.” The papers were soft and thick and Erak shoved them toward Sammus. The prince rolled his eyes but still took them with a bit of a grin. That grin faded as he slowly unfurled the folded up map and his brow scrunched down.
“Is this three dimensional? How am I supposed to read this?”
Nevia peered over his shoulder and the two of them started to talk quietly as Torpin pulled the last of his requirements off her back. It was a tall, thick sheet of metal that only had the basic relation to a shield. A pair of handles had been roughly hammered into the steel and when Torpin let it hit the ground it was with a heavy clang.
Erak slid his forearm through the first handle and gripped the second one with a firm grip before he lifted the shield up. Even with his prodigious strength there was a brief battle before he brought it close to his body. He nodded to Torpin in good-bye before he turned on his heel and started down the tunnel.
Sammus and Nevia followed behind him, heads close together as they argued with each other on how they were supposed to read the map. Erak just put foot in front of foot as he kept an eye on the low ceiling, not wanting to be surprised by a sudden dip in the ceiling.
“Erak, you don’t know where you’re going,” Pomp whispered to him as the little dragon ran along on the ground next to him. During Erak’s convalescence he had continued to feed Pomp Essence even while he was unconscious. Pomp was dense with muscle and firmly in reality as the weeks of collecting Essence, even Erak’s slow generation could pour plenty into the dragon. Pompous had become long and sinuous, nearly five feet long of thickly corded muscle and razor sharp teeth and claws.
They’ll figure it out.
Pomp snorted a cloud of icy cold air over his ankle. A sense of amusement resonated from their bond. Erak could read the map easily if he wanted to, that was an integral part of survival training afterall. If Sammus and Nevia were busy talking to each other about how to read the map, then they wouldn’t be talking to him.
For hours they walked; often having to backtrack as Sammus misread the map. The light activity was good for Erak, his body growing limber as the hours went on and he could feel most of his pre-injury fluidity coming back. The stone all around them had become older, less well defined and maintained. The runes carved on the bottom of the passage no longer glowing with power as they had faded away as the weight of ages had weathered even stone.
Cold cut into their bodies as the runes faded away, a wet chill that was heralded by moisture dripping from cracks in the ceiling. Mildew and moss grew along seams in the halls, glowing lightly to provide plenty of light for them to keep moving along. Sammus continued to yammer away while Nevia had attached herself to Erak’s left shoulder and walked in companionable silence.
“I smell something,” Pomp said. They all stopped together and Erak pulled his borrowed sword from its sheath and looked down at it again.
Steel Sword
Common
A plain if well made Steel sword
The rasp of steel came behind him as Sammus and Nevia drew their own blades as Pomp ran forward and around the corner in a clatter of claws. There wasn’t much room for them to maneuver around if they got in a fight.
“He’s useful for being a scout. Small, fast, and can’t die,” Sammus said. He was on Erak’s far right while Nevia was on his left.
“If only he couldn’t talk,” Nevia said dryly.
“That would be nice. Erase most of his importance to Erak though,” Sammus said. Erak shushed them and focused on trying to hear. The silence deepened and pressed up against him until he heard the click of talons. Then the faintest cry of a dragon’s rage, muted by distance and twisting halls.
His heart began to beat faster. Blood pumped and filled him with a vigor as a smile twisted his stiff face. His finger tapped on the pommel of the sword as he looked further down the hall. Pomp’s cry of battle came closer and closer until everyone could hear him fighting, roaring and gnashing his teeth as something screeched in rage and pain.
“Sounds like there’s a few of them,” Sammus said with just a hint of nervousness.
Good. I need the exercise.
Pomp came around the corner and burst toward them just as something big and pale snapped at the dragon’s tail. Pomp whirled about and attacked with a blast of icy breath that froze over the creature's broad face.
Deep Dweller lvl. 20
In the heart of the world where light has never breached the primordial darkness, Things stir.
Erak strode toward it and lunged crisply, sword snapping as it punched through the broad, bony forehead of the monster with ease. The beast froze instantly as its wide jaw fell open and dark red blood filled its mouth and poured out and over the floor as Essence flowed into Erak. He put his foot on the monster and dragged the sword free of the beast’s skull.
It was seven feet long, slick and slimy with a mucus that left a trail behind it as it had traveled. A wide, broad tail covered in the bone, with blunt black claws. Its wide mouth was filled with fangs and its eyes were milky and unseeing. Bat ears stuck off the side of its head like radar dishes, long and sensitive.
“That is one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen,” Sammus quipped. Erak looked up to the corner that Pomp had run around as the sound of more of the dweller’s came to him. They would be a good warmup.
