Chapter 1
Neow's words hung in the Ironclad's mind as he pushed through the crevice in the wall and entered the first floor of the Spire. Waiting for him was a shivering shadow of a mortal, one of the raven cultists that infested the tower. Blue robes of plucked feathers surrounded its skeletal body, and gray arms protruded from openings like branches of a dying tree. On its head was the skull of a raven, and beneath it chattered gnarled and decomposed teeth.
Ironclad readied his sword to one side as the cultist squawked and shook his two sickle-shaped weapons in front of him, as if they would be intimidating. The warrior had no fear as he ran at his feathered foe, fully expecting to capture victory in seconds.
He used the flat of his blade to smack the cultist across the face, cracking the skull nearly in half, and then stabbed at the opening. He pulled his blade up, dislodging the mask, and watched as the cultist frantically tried to prepare himself. The now-exposed creature, his forehead ridges revealing him to be a goblin, shook his weapons as he drew upon his faith to strengthen his body.
Ironclad wasn't fazed, immediately plunging his sword in two rapid strikes into the cultist's chest. His intuition kicking in, he instinctively raised his forearm-mounted shield and blocked the double-swing of the enemy. One of the staffs managed to pierce the wooden shield and cut at his arm, but he could already feel his demonic blood healing the wound.
With another hit on the face followed by a stab between the eyes, the cultist dropped to the ground in a pile of orange blood. The Ironclad kicked the corpse aside and approached the stairs. The Spire, he knew, had only given him his first of many challenges.