Chapter Twenty Five – Approaching Ascension
It was time.
Damar knew that his life in the mortal realm was coming to an end, he could hear the whispers all too clearly now – they still teased and taunted him about his future but he knew that his long sort after ascension approached. They claimed to know what was coming, what he would become but he did not care, he had always only obeyed two voices – his own and that of his god.
Nearly fifty years ago he had set his course, sure and straight, he had maintained it as he progressed and evolved – blessed by his god. He had seen many others fall to madness and mutation – now they ran as mindless tormented spawn with the other beasts, those that had survived. Some had simply perished, those who were weak, those who were foolish or misguided, without the proper drive and focus, the will to meld and conquer fate. He had killed not a few aspiring champions himself and drank their magic and souls.
He was, as he had always been; without doubt that he would ascend to the ranks of the daemons that clustered around his master, the god Tzeentch. Then he would drink deep of the pleasures and power that awaited him – for eternity – as he had been promised.
One more challenge, one more step before he could claim his reward.
Purposefully he strode forth, he sensed the growing expectation in the acolyte that accompanied him. Apparently he thought he was favoured above all others as he moved alongside his master. Although if Damar actually had a decent scribe or storyteller in his retinue he would have brought him or her instead and drained the minions corrupt soul in a single pleasurable interlude.
Xx
Resistance continued as they moved through the woods, blood flowed and flew as the monsters duelled under the trees. Rain had now begun to fall and water droplets were insidiously seeping through the tree cover to the mud below, mixing with the blood.
Wounds were apparent on all of them – even the uncanny resilience of the vampire and the witch were sorely tested against acid spray, fire and other exotic methods of attack. Lucarius and Hans would have impressive scars, if they survived. Now they were encountering minor Daemon summoning's as well as beasts, heavily armed and armoured warriors, quick and deadly and harder to kill.
A lumbering monstrosity shambled towards them, tendrils and slobbering maws reaching for new prey, a strange lustful whistling noise emanating from the creature. Goading it on were a pair of capering beastmen – cracking whips of energy lashing its armoured hide forward towards its prey.
"Yours?" Lucarius looked weary but managed a slight smile as he gestured at the creature, his gaze upon Viktor.
"If I must…." The vampire strode forward, lashing out with his abused blade to sever the appendages reaching out for him.
Behind them, Hans spat blood and a broken tooth into the mud and rested for a moment, hands on the hilt of his great hammer whilst the witch woman sat astride a huge black armoured warrior. Its powerful limbs were pinned to the mud by shards of its own massive axe which had severed her left arm clean away. Fire and smoke now issuing fitfully from the still gaping wound.
She exhaled blood, fire and arcane curses into the helm of the warrior and the sable iron twisted and melted, revealing the blistered and blasted face beneath. In return it gurgled its own hatred at her, blood bubbling up from its throat as its life faded away.
Lucarius looked away from the scene, he had seen enough of the witch ripping the souls from her prey, devouring them with unnerving relish. He looked down at himself, his blood soaked armour and clothes, the beastmen still twitching at his feet and felt merely sick and tired.
Ahead of him Viktor leapt deftly over the onrushing monster and with a swift, sudden movement rammed his sword into its armoured body, with all his strength behind it. It sparked and shuddered as it sunk to the hilt but he did not pause, even as the beast staggered to one side, screeching and wailing in pain, he was already moving on to the two who had been herding it.
He landed in front of them, snarling as the larger of the two lashed his whip across his armour, gouging its surface in a cascade of multi-coloured energy. Another blur of movement and the beasts head was flying, blood arcing gracefully as he backhanded the second larger beastman, shattering its jaw with the force of the impact.
As the wounded creature fell back, he returned his attention to the monster, now paused, several tendrils hanging limp. It groaned again and staggered heavily to one side, unsteady on its four trunk like legs, unfocussed eyes looked up at what it had thought were prey and saw a great metal object heading towards it.
The impact of the hammer was loud and messy, blood and other fluids erupting from around the massive crater that had been its head. There was almost no pause between this and the second hammer blow that crashed into the gaping wound, smashing the creature down to the ground, twitching and flailing as it died.
"Done" Hans intoned wearily, glancing at the vampire tearing several more beastmen apart.
"Wait a…." The witch's voice was unusually urgent.
It was brutally interrupted by a loud scream as something rocketed into Viktor's body and immediately detonated. The explosion tore half of his chest away and sent him stumbling over the dead at his feet before a second and third impact exploded his right hand and left leg respectively. He dropped heavily into the mud.
"I dislike vampires." Kreesha looked hatefully at the shattered body, the huge pistol in her hand smoking as she tracked her next target – the witch woman.
Lucarius was running towards the new arrival, expecting a sheet of fire or a lightning bolt to cover his advance, but the witch did nothing more than back away, chanting as a shimmering blur of energy appeared in front of her.
The armoured woman's scowl deepened as she advanced, sparing the elf warrior only a cursory glance full of contempt. She sent several rounds of screaming ammunition at the witch, cursing her as the arcane shield held, although the strain of maintaining it was obviously harsh on the one armed woman. Veins pulsed and throbbed in her body and several burst, leaking black viscous fluid into the mud as she staggered back.
Despite the weariness that never seemed to leave him now, Lucarius executed a perfect leaping strike, the blade angle a thing of beauty even his sister would have applauded. It was aimed at the woman's neck with unerring accuracy, a blow that would sever her head in a display of elven excellence.
Skittering and shrieking, the glittering blade left a trail of sparks as it glanced harmlessly off her skin and the Elf captain lurched off balance helped by a swift and powerful punch to the jaw by his intended victim. He too fell to the ground, temporarily incapacitated by the force of the blow.
"I am not fond of Elves either." She did not even glance in his direction, all of her focus on her primary target and quickly blasted more shells at the shield, then swiftly pivoted and pumped them into the vampire who was struggling back to some semblance of un-life.
"Stay…down…..foolish…corpse….stay…dead!" She punctuated each venomous word with another exploding shell. She drew a curved silver dagger that glittered in a flash of weak sunshine, signalling the end of the latest rain shower.
The distraction was deadly as a streak of rune bedecked metal slammed into her body, crushing ribs and puncturing her left lung with a shard of bone. As she fell backwards, she saw the human stride towards her from where he had thrown the hammer, a grim smile on his blood flecked face.
Kreesha coughed blood, feeling weakness begin to spread through her powerful body and rolled to one side, dislodging the weapon into the ichor polluted mire. A heavy booted foot connected with her jaw, mud splattered and stinking as it snapped her head back, but it could do no serious damage. She unleashed her anger in an outraged screech and slashed out with her dagger, seeking to gain room to employ her main weapon.
The human dodged backwards from the blade but almost immediately the glittering blade of the Elf clattered against her skin, seeking to sever her gun hand and although her aim was deflected, no serious harm was inflicted. More rapid blows rained down on her, the blade apparently showing its frustration in the screeching sparks that flew as it ricocheted from her skin and armour.
She rolled aside, feeling fresh pain in her body from the hammer's impact, cursing her own foolishness at not noticing its Dwarven heritage. Another pair of glancing impacts, this time on the back of her neck, were scarcely felt and instinctively she rolled again and came up with her gun blazing at where the Elf stood.
The first two shrieking projectiles were close, but the elf managed to avoid, his eyes focussed on the movements of her hand to keep him alive. He pivoted away to avoid a third but the fourth caught his left hand in a glancing blow and detonated.
His whole hand and part of the arm simply exploded and he lurched back, stunned by the impact. He looked down at the ruin of his limb, horrified by the wound and for a moment forgot completely about his enemy, whose pain racked face had shifted into a vengeful grin.
"Look at me when I am hitting you, Bitch!" Came a deep voice from her right.
Hans had recovered his weapon and the runes blazed with angry fervour as he slammed it into the woman in the mud. Where swords, bullets and arrows had proved no more than a nuisance, the Dwarven weapon brooked no such insult.
The force of the first blow crushed her nose and one eye exploded from its socket. A shudder of shock and pain rippled through her body, and she lost her grip on her weapons. Hans did not stop, powering the hammer from above his head onto and into her head. Then he did it again. And again. Soon little was left of the woman's head, much of it coating the weapon itself.
"Enough I think." The witch had emerged from the safety of her shield and approached the scene.
Lucarius collapsed onto his knees, clutching desperately at the wound to try and stem the flow of blood through the mangled wound. As he did so, Hans looked round at the woman, shaking the worst of the flesh and brains from the head of his hammer with a flick of his powerful wrist. She noted with narrowed eyes how comfortable he now seemed with the weapon.
"Can you do anything for him?" He gestured towards the Elf captain. "He seems to need a….. hand…."
No one laughed.
Xx
Damar advanced through the trees, burning them as he went in case a beacon was needed to bring his prey to him. About him capered a small mass of Daemons, grumbling and laughing as was their wont. Several more bizarre creatures bounced along on the edges, semi-transparent with only a tenuous grip on reality. They were shaped like inverted mushrooms or jellyfish with two large tubular arms from which they unleashed blue or black fireballs upon their surroundings in imitation of their summoner.
At the Champions side strode a pride filled Kurt, enjoying the fiery advance towards the enemy, anticipating his masters triumph and perhaps his own rewards in its aftermath. He looked across at Damar, now clad in his burning armour and caught the eye of the familiar lurking on his shoulder. It raised its large malformed hand and gave him a thumbs up. As he turned back away, the familiar scowled and made faces at him, and slowly and deliberately reversed the gesture.
Xx
At Hans's question, the witch had shaken her head and suggested he attend to the wounded Elf.
She had walked over to where the vampire still lay, half torn apart by the repeated detonations and stood considering his body for short time before apparently making a decision. She gestured at the remaining bodies lying nearby and began to chant in her disturbing language.
In response a sanguine vortex began to form, swirling and draining the blood from the mud and bodies that surrounded her. She gestured as she intoned the ritual and the miniature cyclone shifted in the air, still forming and growing and now hovered above Viktor's unmoving body.
The witch adjusted its position in the air a little and then made an abrupt gesture as her words also ceased. The blood dropped in a crimson waterfall, drenching the vampire below, washing into his mouth, nose and wounds. At first there was no response, but the life-giving fluid continued to seep into the flesh of the slumbering figure and several fingers began to twitch.
"There, battlefield surgery at its best." Hans looked down at the roughly bandaged stump that had been the Elf captain's hand.
Lucarius nodded his head numbly, he had indeed seen worse in his time but usually there were skilled healers on hand when the Elves went to war. He too looked at the crude attempt at bandaging following the horrifically painful cauterisation.
"I can give you a new hand if you like?" The woman's tone was not enticing or sympathetic.
He fixed her with a glare – "you can heal this?" Instinctively he moved the stump and instantly regretted it as pain shot through his arm.
"No…..but I can replace it, graft another in its place?" She looked amused. "I you like…."
Turning back to the various bodies littering the ground she ripped out a length of flaccid tentacles from the greater spawn. She looked again at the Elf, "No?"
The Elf looked away, disgust clear on his face, banishing the pain, "I dislike the offer and the likely your terms – your assistance in the recent conflict would have been more appreciated."
"Ah well, this body needs repair as it is – much more damage and it would be unlikely I could remain."
She glanced down at the lengths of strange tissue and closed her ebony hued eyes, spoke several ear scorching words and the appendages began to shudder. A swift movement and one end of them mass of purple and black tubes was slammed into place on the fire licked shoulder, the flesh hissing as it met and melded with the pale skin. A faint smiled crossed her features as she flexed still growing muscles and the tentacles moved and undulated in the still air.
"Better than before…."
A groan of pain announced Viktor's return to consciousness, slowly and painful he leaved himself upright, his flesh still trying to heal the massive wounds that had been inflicted. He limped slowly towards the bulk of the slain monster, pain evident in every slowed movement he made as he neared his sword still sheathed in the malformed flesh.
"Everyone still alive then?" He rasped.
Xx
Malitha-Kluthras could feel the pain for the forest as they moved towards their enemy – not just the intrusion of the corrupted ones, the presence of the never born but the scorching fire that killed young and old. The greater spirit and the elf witch were still one pure mind and emotion – rage.
Around them were the growing army of the forest – creatures that loped and paced nearby - bears and wolves, wild boar and even the sleek forms of greater wild cats. Laith-Oriou were the closest, tall lean killing shapes of various heritage, even the fiercest of the beasts gave them a wild berth.
The prey was not trying to hid, not seeking to hide away from the rightful vengeance bearing down upon it. It might once have given her pause, this heedless movement towards her, the forest itself was contemplating the enemy, but it was slow and steady on its now set course, never swift in making or indeed changing its decision.
There were other wounds in the forest, sores and gaping holes that were still appearing in the conflict that raged within and far beyond the borders of the Drakwald.
Xx
Damar paused for a moment in his march as he felt Kreesha die, felt her soul being sent screaming to the feet of their master. Whatever shielded them from his arcane gaze was not enough to block the knowledge of the fate of those he had bound to him.
He considered her death as he began to walk again, the cavalcade that had fallen still and silent at his suspension of movement once again a fiery mass of movement. Kreesha was strong, resilient and deadly as she was blessed with weapon whose power he respected, had allowed her to retain as it had been a gift from their master.
Dwarven weapons were one of the few things that could breach the mix of spell forged armour and skin – perhaps that was how his new enemy was concealing themselves – their Runes were ancient and powerful. Yet it felt wrong – he was missing something and he heard the voices mocking him again, taunting him that his future might be slipping away.
He shut them off with a thrust of his mind – his goal approached and he was ready for it.
Xx
Viktor looked terrible, his body was slowly healing – as rent and torn as the amour that still clung to parts of his body. With several audible groans he clambered atop the greater spawn and clasped his hand around the hilt of his favourite sword.
It was sheathed hard in flesh and bone alike, not something that would be easy to withdraw as he knew from bitter experience. His strength was returning however and after a moment's pause to gather himself he pulled – hard.
It slid for a moment than stuck fast – he pulled again and twisted, pulled again then staggered back as the blade snapped with a blast of magic energy – the spell forged steel and runes finally reaching the limit of their endurance. Cursing he flung the hilt away and stomped back to the others who stood watching.
As he reached the witch he stared into the void that were her own unblinking eyes.
"I hope that we are close, Daemon, for we are ALL fast reaching our limits."
"Yes."
"Is that all you have to say?"
"What more do you want? I can lie if you wish," She stepped closer, "you must adore lies to exist as you do, a mockery of your former life, a pathetic shadow of what you once were."
She turned away from, uncaring of the obvious anger.
"We need to go now – whilst we are able."
No-one seemed enthusiastic but also no-one argued but they merely began to trudge into the trees.
Xx
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