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Bloodsworn Ch. 60
🕑 Added 2024-12-28 21:45:49 +0000 UTC60.
Heads had been mounted on spikes and they ringed the Iron Cathedral’s walls. Hundreds of slack faces, dirt and blood staining them as their vacant eyes peered out into the world unseeing. Erak recognized the Deathsworn, a cluster of larger heads in the middle, closest to the doors. Under their heads a creature sat on a mount of tough leather and bat wings that draped across the stairs leading into the cathedral like a carpet.
The figure was armored in steel that glittered like a thousand stars, smudge of blood and smoke stained the resplendent suit, but its glory was unmatched. It looked as if it had been carved from the very heavens itself as it sat astride a beast crafted from hell. Erak remembered the old ones and how Grachus the Twisted had clashed with this being.
Erak glanced behind the mounted figure to look at the crow cages that dangled from hooks wedged into the Iron Cathedral. The priests sat in them, bloodstained bandages wrapped around their eyes as their mouths gaped open, blackened with dried blood. The doors to the cathedral were open but the interior was dim and he could not see further in.
All of this in a heartbeat as his eyes rose back up to the guardian. The corrupted creature’s burning pits of eyes hadn’t twitched toward them, still staring further off into the distance. The monstrous sword consumed by its deadly flame sat across a knee as the being lounged as if bored by the conquest.
Rage. It pulsated in him, a furnace that bled into the aura of bloodlust that controlled the attacking army, swelling further and further until the very air became saturated red with his wrath. The tank continued to race forward, never slowing as the newest wave of demons strolled to the front.
Erak squared his shoulders and planted his feet as he looked up at that indifferent deity. His balance set, he stepped forward and threw the spear, activating Momentum as he did so.
The racing adrenaline fled out of him. The miasma of his aura vanished, sucked dry as it fueled the spears ascent as a red bolt flying to pierce the sky. The entirety of the army froze for a second as their minds cleared and they realized where they were at. Only Del kept the attack going, his tank never slowing down even as Erak’s attack flashed upward.
Before this invasion and his growth in strength, the throw would have been impossible. Hundreds of feet in the air, the corrupted creature was well beyond the limits of a natural throw. Even with his growth in strength, the throw was too far. With the ability it rocketed away from him and crossed the distance in the blink of an eye. Erak smiled as the rare grade spear cut a trench in that golden skin, more blood flowing to run over its distressed raiments.
Its head threw back and it screamed in pain, a clarion call like a thousand brass horns that echoed over the city. The smoldering fires in its gouged out eyes lit up in a burning wrath that blazed outwards like spotlights as it shook itself free from its stupor and peered down at them.
“Clock starts now,” Pomp said to him as Erak grabbed at the dragonbone sword, hoisting it aloft in the air. A roar filled the air behind him as the soldiers took heed of what was happening, of the scream of pain and agony and then the tank fired, a burst of fire that lanced into the crowd at the steps of the cathedral right was the first drops of golden blood splashed down on the ground.
Erak leapt from the tank, hitting the ground in a sprint as his sword lowered to point at the mounted figure. The creature drew forth its own sword, a bastard blade that reflected light like an oil spill. His mount surged upward, a leathery dragon looking beast with four legs and its wings billowed outward as it took a running start and launched itself free of the steps and toward Erak, gliding toward him.
Hell-Knight lvl. 26
A code of chivalry resides in the Infernal Palaces of the Hell Lords and their Lieges. This being has pledged itself to these codes of dishonor and warcraft.
Corrupted Dragon Hatchling lvl. 23
The befouled Essence of Hell has tainted a dragon egg and spawned this mutant. Smaller and more vicious than its normal brethren, it is more easily tamed than any self respecting dragon and lacks many key attributes of the draconic race.
Erak skimmed the words as he ducked into a roll, the scrape of talons on his armor loud as he barely missed its outstretched claws. It beat its leathery wings and rose up and into the sky, wheeling about to come at him again. Erak turned his back to it and raced up the steps and toward the broken cluster of demonic monsters holding their ground.
Hellspawn lvl. 19
The primary citizens of the Hell plains, stronger and more developed than their lesser siblings, have room for growth unlike the lesser Hellspawn.
The lead demon had a truncheon with metal studs in it that it lifted in a half hearted attack. Erak took the blow with his shield, the crash of metal on metal loud , the blow numbing his shoulder with the fury of the blow. Erak struck down and the dragonbone blade spilled blood for him for the first time.
The sharp bone split apart flesh, bone, and leather armor alike with ease, bisecting the hellspawn in a single blow. Erak rammed aside the tottering corpse as he continued up the steps, trading blows as fast as possible, his new sword light in his grip as a switch. Back and forth it flowed, splitting apart the thickly built Hellspawn like they were nothing.
A mad laugh bubbled in his chest as the euphoria of combat and the constant stream of Essence flowed into him. Erak crushed another of the demons with his shield and parried a blow, cutting apart the enemy’s spear with ease. They fell like grass before a scythe, back and forth he went, spilling black blood until it was an ocean washing down the steps of the cathedral.
A shadow loomed over head and he ducked and spun, blade slashing out and over his head. A dragon screamed in rage, pale and weak in the aftermath of the guardian’s bellow. Hot blood flowed over him as the dragon tumbled to the ground, long wings covering and throwing more Hellspawn to the sacred stone steps. Above him, heat flared in a powerful corona that caused sweat to burst out across his face and back and he looked up to see the guardian pointing its wicked blade at Del in his tank.
The tank commander was halfway out the hatch, staring back unflinchingly as the main turret rose up until it was pointed right back at the guardian. The tank fired first, an unstoppable burst of power that took the guardian in the chest, burning its clothes and scorching its skin as it reeled part way back into the portal. Then the flame wicked down the sword’s blade and fell upon the tank like an oversized water drop, splashing out in a wave.
