Chapter 3:
Conquest.
The Lord of the Land and his accompanying gang of heroes came much sooner than I had any reason to expect. It took them only three days after I had annihilated their third reconnaissance party, had they decided to come down here, to ensure that my head parted company with my shoulders. While I had no idea what their forces would consist off, I had reason to be confident that twenty Giant Beetles and half as many Giant Flies would be able to match the strength of this pestilent enemy. Not to mention that I had prepared a few surprises to aid in the extermination of these vermin.
Out of all the many powers that a Dungeon Keeper may gain or use, the power to possess my minions proved to be of undeniable value as I possessed one of the two Giant Fly sentries that had spotted the enemy while on a routine security patrol. It also gives one a unique insight as I could see first hand everything that my enemy was bringing to bear against me. Not as if they had sufficient forces to truly challenge. A perhaps twenty or so Dwarves back again by half as many Rouges. Man to man, I would say that we were both evenly matched, but in terms of skill, I am relatively convinced that my forces are far superior in terms of training and toughness to withstand their paltry swords and axes.
It took only a brief moment to sound an alert that had my warriors ready to enter the fray. I admit that as my finest are nothing more than beasts, I have ample reason to keep my warriors lean, and especially hungry. I don't grant them much in the way of access to the Hatchery. I know that for them, nothing tastes as good as a fresh kill, when you carve the flesh from the bones with your own claws. Fresh meat in the form of heroes was something that my warriors would definitely crave. And to them, nothing is fresher than meat that they "harvest" themselves.
My Giant Flies rallied to my orders, a storm of winged claws, even as my equally Giant Beetles stayed low in the shadowy nooks and carnies that had been carved in to this one specific cavern. The cavern had been carved specifically for the purpose of butchering every single hero in this land. The small nooks and crannies were carved in to the walls, behind the massive pillars that held up the twenty meter long cavern. I'd kept the torches in their wall brackets but let them burn low to throw pools of shadow that were perfect cover to hide my waiting storm, a perfect storm of death that waited my command to be unleashed.
My winged minions had a specific task in this defense. Separate and occupy the Lord of the Land so that the Giant Beetles and I can mop up the rest of them before I turn my attention to him. It will not help if he's involved in boosting the morale of the various other two legged weapon wielding pests. Not that there were than many of them to be concerned about. The finest that this Lord of the Land had to offer would crumbled before my warriors like a sand castle crumbles before a tidal wave.
I found that the worst part of combat turned out to be not the actually killing and butchering of my foes, but for me, it seems to be that the waiting tends to be the worst part. You get time to sit there and think and analyze what you are doing. About what will happen when that blade you hold or that spell you cast, punches through and actually kills someone or something. It's the thinking part that makes it difficult for me sometimes. But I do what I have got to do. Blood and bone, blade or magic, it is kill or be killed, and I intend to be the one that does the killing. It took the heroes long enough, even with several of the Giant Flies acting as bait to draw in these men in for their heroic demise, but when they finally charged in to the cavern, hell bent after a pair of Flies that hovered well out of their ridiculously short reach, I whispered my command, "Sylvanas: Attack."
I did not have to scream or shout my orders, I was gaining mastery over the various facets of life as a Dungeon Keeper: The psychic link that ties a minion to their Keeper ensures that all orders and clear and that there can be no misunderstanding. Well, with my current mainstay of warriors being oversized insects, they actually lack the intelligence to disobey an order. Considering that at higher levels of play, this form of warrior is at best a minimal damage dealer, kept around to justify its existence as a damage absorbing meat shield. They also do make useful sacrifices in a Temple, if you actually get to build one within your Dungeon.
It was an interesting contrast, as I seemed to notice for the first time the difference between the styles of combat of my two generic groups of warriors. The beast like Giant Beetles were actually well know for relying on their carapace to shrug off whatever blows were dealt, before they tear my foes apart with their massive, overdeveloped jaws. My Giant Flies however, prove to be the more "artful" relying more on grace, and agility to stab and weave their way through whatever opponents or opportunity presents itself. My flies bounded off the walls swarming around the dwarves as the rest, their wing like buzz saws launched themselves like thrown spears towards the Lord of the Land. Eager to bury their toxin loaded stingers in to the Lord of the Land.
A pair of Dwarves had collapsed, the deadly toxins manufactured by the internal chemistry of my Giant Flies, no doubt coursing through their bodies, and burning through their central nervous system. The gap in the line was enough for six of my Giant Flies to push through, to harass the Lord of the Land. With him forced in to a defensive engagement to avoid being impaled upon the needle like stingers or the scythe like forelimbs of my warriors, the Giant Beetles and I would have a much easier to, clearing away the Dwarves and Rouges.
It is interesting to watch, the pair of Dwarves that had been stung earlier, lay on the floor, their eyes searching around them frantically, for the toxins were just the first stage in what is a horrible death, for anyone. While the toxins do spread through whatever tissue they have been injected in to, the poison finds nerves and races along them, burning them up as it progresses until it finds the spinal column or the brain. Often it reaches the spinal column first causing the victim to drop like a stone from the paralytic effect, unable to scream in pain. The other little something that is injected in to these victims is the larvae of the Giant Flies. The larvae do not take long to hatch, and they proceed to feed upon the internal organs of their victims, before tearing their way through their flesh.
Unfortunately, most of the just matured larvae do not live very long after they emerge. Their wings take several minutes to harden before they are capable of flight. Suffice to say that being "born" in the middle of a chaotic battle filled with blades and spell fire is not conducive to a long lifespan. They were either cut down by the enemy who saw them as an easy kill, or in an unfortunate instance of friendly fire. The Lord of the Land was effectively dodging and ducking to save his scrawny neck, having forsaken even the breast pretense of an offense. I gave the second order of the engagement, and unleashed the hammer, to fall upon the anvil already in place, "Thicondrious: Advance!"
From crevices and shadow filled crevices, the Giant Beetles charged, lead by the leader of my pack of Giant Beetles. Thicondrious led the advancing pack as if he was the Tank Commander. Their momentum nigh unstoppable as they trampled down several of the marauding heroes that rained down blows in an exercise of futility. Their dark black and green chitin carapace absorbing the furious blows with ease as they gouged their way through the ranks of the enemy. An excellent demonstration of how powerful brute force can be.
Now that I think about it, I was the only magic user who went out there without a weapon in hand. That's because my abilities with magic, make me a weapon. Standing at the far end of the cavern, enveloped by the shadows, I hurled the most basic of combat magic spells in to the fray. The ease and simplicity, and limited drain upon one's mana meant that it was easy to cast massive, successive volleys of fireballs that covered the advance of my Giant Beetles in to the fray. The collision between my forces and those of this Lord of the Land, caused the battle line to blur as I drew upon the magical energy of the void, the incantation in my mind clear as I whispered it, "Incendio."
Yet another ball of flame came in to being, levitating above my outstretched left hand as I flung it down the cavern, while I began the tricky –for me- process of dual casting with a different spell: Incendio Mortis. The spells took me a little longer than I would have liked, but it was enough that the spread of fireballs I had laid down were keeping the enemy off balance, for they could not see in to the shadows, who or what was casting spells at them. I gave the command to my minions and they responded beautifully as my Beetles suddenly hugged the ground as the Flies surged upwards towards the shadow shrouded ceiling. The heroes had a few moments of confusion before the cavern's shadows were burned away in a mix of red and orange shades of near blinding illumination that showed no mercy to those caught in its destructive path.
One warrior of light took several of my flaming missiles through the chest, crumpled to ground as his fresh burned, certainly dead. Two others were taken in the limbs and the extremities, as the burning fragments exploded against them, turning them in to molten, dripping human candles. They would die for certain as magic based fire cannot be doused by simply rolling on the ground or by rolling through water. The combination of spell work and raw brutality had butchered more than half the enemy. The accursed Lord of the Land still standing, the remaining warriors roared and waded back in to the fray, axes sweeping through the air, as their shields reflected or absorbed the streams of magic I had hurled in their general direction. Incendio Mortis is not the most accurate of spells that you can hurl at your foes.
Still cloaked in shadows, I drew the sword I had trained with, using it to deflect a pair of rebounded fireballs. I checked my forces, and found that it had been a relatively good exchange, five of my beast warriors for almost three times as many of the enemy. It seemed that there were a greater number of Dwarves than I had originally anticipated. But the tide of battle was turning, and it would rest upon the strength and courage of these heroes. It was certainly approaching the point of fallibility, simply due to attrition. While my foes possessed the superior numbers which they had been throwing at me, my warriors had nearly all been injured, but superior training had allowed them to stand up to many times their numerical superior opponents than linear arithmetic would have indicated. Most annoying of all was that the majority of my losses were amongst my Giant Files. But they stuck to their task, as they swerved around the Lord of the Land, keeping him from interfering in the battle, where My Beetles were grinding the last of the Dwarves in to the flagstones of the floor. It was time for me to add to the difficulties being faced by the Lord of the Land.
The spell is powerful and its mana cost was more than a little ruinous to my spell casting abilities for the remainder of this particular battle but I actually enjoyed the prospect of immolating this pest as I gathered the mana, harnessing it and gathering before launching the deadly projectile, channeling every iota of mana I had in to the spell. It's not called Draconis Incendio for nothing.
Having maintained an extremely tight control upon the casting of the spell, "Dragon's Flame," I achieved exactly what I wanted as it lanced outward, a pulsing line of fire that superheated the air, creating a near rolling beam of flame. The few Giant Flies still engaged with the Lord of the Land broke away, suddenly opening the Lord of the Land to the full brunt of the spell, as the wave hammered in to his armor, the sound of warping metal overshadowing that of the whirling melee around us all. The blast knocking him back, his two handed battle sword flying from his grasp, dust clouds masking him from view. I ended the spell as the full beam of flame rippled through the air, causing the surroundings to shimmer as a wave of dizziness slammed in to everyone. I leaned back against the wall, and managed to catch the barest glimpse of the Lord of the Land as he somersaulted through the air, to land face down upon the stone tiled floor. He would be out of the fight for a few minutes, enough time as I turned to survey the remaining dwarves, one being ripped in to several large chunks by the massive blade like tusks of my Giant Beetles.
Corpses littered the floor, and the smell from them is not something anyone should appreciate – but I had to admit that they did give my Dungeon that "lived-in" feel. The remaining Dwarves were encircled, and had no place to go. I don't have the facilities to house prisoners, or the facilities to interrogate them effectively either. Not that I need anyone else for interrogative purposes… the Lord of the Land is still coming around from the dizzying shot I dealt him, as I myself struggled to keep off the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm me. I had been keeping my minions hungry for special occasions, and this was one of them. A special one course feast composed of the Lord of the Land.
The Lord of the Land looked like nothing he should, lying with his head against the cold unyielding stone, his once shiny armor now dented and splattered with blood, certain areas were ripped clean open, blood pouring through these rents that hid deeper wounds from view. His sword was soiled with blood, guts and the bile of several of my minions, notched in several places on the floor, just out of his reach. I looked down at him, as I trapped his blade between my boot and the ground, to stare in to his eyes through the slit in the helm. They were brown, almost a mud color, and I could see in to the soul of this man. And I could already see that in spite of the fact he now lay defenseless upon a mountain of slain comrades, he would not surrender to me, even as I gave him my terms, "You fought well, and with honor for your chosen master, but you fought for nothing, only delaying the inevitable. Your followers lie dead and butchered around you. Only you remain. Surrender your lands and I'll grant you death, but it will be a clean death," I paused, considering my words, "A warrior's death."
"I will never surrender to you! Foul demon from the depths of hell. Go back to that from which you came, for the Light will never falter before the Dark!" he spat the words at me, "You are the Keeper, of this Dungeon, and though you may take my Land and my life, there are many more who will resist you. The Lord of every land will resist you to their dying breath!" he roared as he leapt forward from where he lay, his hand suddenly reaching and wrapping around the hilt of his blade, sliding in latterly, the sudden jerk getting out from under my foot even as he rose with it, an upward slash that would have ended me, had I not reacted as I did.
Still relatively new to the ways of this world, I had no idea that I actually had the agility that I possessed, and demonstrated as I back flipped clear of his blow, that would have cut me in half, cleanly from crotch to crown. With hair nearly brushing the ceiling, clear of his blow, and found myself with my hair actually grazing the cavern ceiling. My own blade flashed up as I descended, blocking a lateral, crosswise swipe at me, "Hold," I whispered as my minions nearly charged down the standing defiant Lord.
He was weak and wounded. I would finish this myself. Even as I stood, my blade locked with his, I pushed him backwards, a hard shove that sent him skating back several feet, before he dug his feet and stopped, his blade raised warily as he observed me, waiting for me to make my move. I growled at him, even as my left arm jerked down, releasing the blade kept in a sheath against my forearm, the handle of the blade rested comfortably in my palm, even as I roared at him, "Come on you pathetic creature!"
His sword pulled back as he charged in, raising his sword high overhead gave voice to a wordless roar of challenge. I met his blade with mine yet again, but I gave ground, as he pressed what he assumed to be an advantage, in that I could not stand against his divine fury. I gave him that opening for our blades slide against each others, giving me the gap I sought, The shorter blade in my left hand flashed up, between our crossed blades, to punch deep in to his eye. I felt the passage of the blade as it struck the skull bone at the back of the eye, somewhere around the optic nerve. His grip slacked as he tried to jerk away from me. Not that it helped as I twisted the blade and sent it in to his brain. He screamed, a sound of pure pain as I broke free, my long sword still in my hand, its blade untarnished by his blood as I leapt up, unleashing a reverse snap kick that sent his metal clad form to the floor. He twitched, as if trying desperate to rise, but I know death throes when I see them.
The sickly sweet smell that seemed to have a physical force driving it permeated the air, the smell of freshly shed blood that seems to clog the pores and clothes with its coppery tint. No doubt that I will need a bath and a washing machine to get the stench out of my skin and clothes. Now if only I could find a washing machine…. I'm sure that a bath I could get from those living in the kingdom above – if any of them lived long enough to be of assistance. The land above was mine. I ordered my minions to head aboveground. The land above, Eversmile, needed a visit and the claim of its new owner, and I intended to stamp it the property of the Black Flame, and it would be a nice vacation spot for me and my minions after we were done redecorating it – I'd say that if we had not earned our vacation just yet, we were about to.
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