It was nearly dark by the time Eddie and the Kill Master rolled into Bladehenge.
The tiny settlement had grown quite a bit in the year-and-a-half since its people one the war. Leading up to it, fences crossed here and there to hold in half-domesticated Raptor Elk and Ground Urchins, and a few enterprising townsfolk even filled one particular patch of field with various edible plants. The many tents, huts, and even stone structures now spilled out beyond the walls of the town, though a number of these were fallen in from the tremors the day before. Droves of men (some Ironheade soldiers, and some average people) were picking up the pieces of houses and trying to fit them back together, and Eddie had to carefully maneuver around them until he reached main entrance.
What was once a simple skull-like aperture was now an elaborate gate, still skull-like, and complete with a wench system, floodlights, and scaffolding watchtowers. It even looked like it could be quickly converted into a stage. The wall itself was upgraded to include dangerous spikes and ramparts patrolled by Razor Girl snipers.
The gate was currently open and the guards graciously got out of his way as Eddie passed through. By the time he parked and got out of his vehicle, the Kill Master had come up behind him and parked as well.
Eddie couldn't figure out why everyone was giving him funny looks until he suddenly got beamed up side the head by the shaft of a halberd.
"Where have you been?" Lita snarled. The young, blond queen was clutching her weapon with both hands and looking very strung out.
"Ow!" Eddie rubbed at the lump that was forming as he said, "Lita! I did not need another head injury today."
"You injured your head?" Eddie's dark haired girlfriend, Ophelia, appeared at his side looking concerned.
Eddie waved her off. "I was exaggerating. I'm fine."
She still looked concerned, but said nothing more of it. Instead she said, "Lita's right though. You said you'd only be gone a couple of hours, not a whole day."
"I know, and I'm sorry," he said honestly to both of them.
Lita relaxed a little. "We were about to send out a search party."
"Yeah well... things kinda got a little insane on me."
"When don't they?" Ophelia grumbled affectionately. That's when she noticed that the Kill Master was directing a couple of his men to lift a body from the back of his Thunderhog. The moment her eyes fell on the dark being, a horrible, cloying shudder raced up her spine and she wrapped her arms around herself as though that could ward off her unease.
Eddie noticed this and said, "Hey, you okay? You look pale all of a sudden."
"I don't know. I just... who is that?"
"Yeah Eddie, who is that?" Lita was less 'freaked out' and more 'pissed that you brought a stranger into my town without asking me first.'
"Um... the Guardian of Metal?" he tried. The two women looked about as ready to believe him as the Kill Master had earlier, so he said, "He's a friend I met on the road. I think his name's Ozzrael."
"You think?" Lita was not pleased by that one.
"Look, we've got bigger Tollusks to fry," said Eddie. A number of people had crowded around, sensing that something interesting was going on. For a moment Eddie thought he should keep this stuff between himself and the other leaders of the Ironheade, but he decided if his peoples' lives were going to be in danger, they deserved to know about it.
"I found out that the earth quake yesterday was caused by some huge battle underground," he said, "and from the sound of things, if it wasn't for that guy there, we'd be waist deep in some unknown horror right now.
Ophelia asked, "What unknown horror?"
"I don't know," Eddie answered. "They're coming back though, and the Gods said we'd need his help. So..."
"The Gods?" Lita looked him up and down, trying to decide if her conk to his head really did cause him brain damage, and if a second one might reverse it.
Luckily the Kill Master was just on time to rescue him. "I thought he was crazy too, till I saw 'em."
"The Gods of Metal?" Sure, she could brush off these claims from the strange, time-traveling Eddie. But both he and the Kill Master?
"Whatever this Black Host is, the Gods seemed to be shitting their pants over them," the Kill Master explained. "'Course they were just as upset about him," he nodded towards his men who now standing by with the Guardian propped between them, "but they also tasked him with explaining things. So perhaps we should keep him around, least till he tells us what the hell is going on?"
Between his cocked eyebrow and expectantly crossed arms, and Eddie's pleading eyes all Lita could do was roll her eyes and say, "Fine!"
Ophelia opened her mouth to object, but thought better of it and instead settled for stepping closer to Eddie and his warmth.
"Good." The Kill Master grinned triumphantly. "Where do you want him?"
Lita thought about it. "Place him in one of the empty tents along the western part of the wall." As the Kill Master and his men walked away she called after them. "But clean him up first. We don't need that smell fouling the spare equipment."
The Kill Master waved as he continued to walk away to acknowledge that he heard her.
With the Guardian gone and the event over, the crowd dispersed and Ophelia almost instantly relaxed. She and Lita both crossed their arms and scowled at Eddie.
Feeling very ganged up on he said, "So... powwow?"
That night Eddie explained everything to the girls, including (finally) Motorforge and how much he had come to rely on the Guardian of Metal during the war. To say the least, the others were surprised to hear that their champion hadn't gotten all of his power and technology out of nowhere.
Jack, a goggle wearing Headbanger that Eddie had grown close to, was sitting at the next fire over, and sheepishly he turned to them and asked, "Does this mean that Mike wasn't crazy after all?"
Eddie shrugged and took a bite of the Urchin leg he was snacking on.
"What I don't understand," Ophelia piped up, "is why you never told us of this." She sat with her shoulders slumped, looking hurt.
Eddie, knowing that trust was still a sore spot for her, quickly said, "I wanted to, but I couldn't. Every time I tried to bring it up I got this feeling like the world would end if I did... except for now."
Lita, who was strangely quieter than usual that evening leveled a serious gaze on him and said, "Do you trust him, even though he probably had no choice but to help you?"
Eddie zoned out, thinking hard about it. Finally he met her gaze with a confident smile and nodded.
Lita closed her eyes and sighed, but moved on. "Now about this Black Host?"
"I have a hunch about that." Eddie sat forward, looking excited and worried at the same time. "You know those Artifacts of Legend I showed you?"
They nodded. A number of people had taken up the old tradition of traveling to the different Artifacts to learn the history of their world. Of course he had neglected to show anyone but Ophelia the last few as it they revealed his darkest secret.
"Well you know the First Ones? What if the Black Host is a bunch of them who survived by living underground and now they want to retake the surface?"
"Then the Underground might know something," said Ophelia.
"Say what?"
Lita said, "They're a faction of beast-like demons who live in the ancient tunnel system. No one's seen one in years."
"They don't like the Coil," Ophelia added, "but they don't like us much either, and they don't give up their secrets easily."
The next morning a messenger was sent east to gather the Fire Barons and Zuala and return them to Bladehenge. Everyone was busy with preparations for the battle, or ambush, or... really they had no idea what was going to happen.
Deep beneath the Temple of Ormagoden was a city no human knew of, for none who entered it ever left alive. It was more like a humongous pit, walls lined with walkways and railings, and a tower of twisted, festering flesh in the center.
It was the Cloister. The home of the Tainted Coil, and their greatest feat of engineering.
Chains connected from the ceiling and walls of the place to the horrid tower, but they were rusted and many had broken off. The walls themselves were meant to be flowing with blood and crawling with demons, but the blood had long since dried and most of the demons had died in the war. In some places the ocean even began to seep through, and many feared that it would soon reclaim the place forever.
Those who remained lived in the upper levels nearest the temple, though very top of the Tower of Flesh was still used as the throne room for the Emperor.
It was into this decadent chamber of torturous horrors that the old Warfather strode with confidence. He kneeled before the throne (which was actually more of an alter made of bones and skin) and said, "My lord."
A tall, spindly demon moved from behind the morbid structure. He wore a red, kilt-like garment that draped from his hips, and a tight, black bondage harness on his chest that appeared to double as a means of keeping the large seam there from splitting open. His lower body was covered in black fur with a long, triangular tipped tail, and equally dark hooves. From the waist up, his skin was white and bare. His hands were three fingered, each tipped with cruel black claws. One side of his head was bald, with a small hole in the side to serve as an ear, the other side was draped with grimy black hair, and two curved horns protruded from his forehead, one shorter than the other.
His black lips parted; a mouth that stretched far too wide and was full to the brim with shark-like teeth. "Rise Churl," he said in a surprisingly melodious voice.
The Warfather obliged, meeting his Emperor's mismatched eyes. The right one was deep red, while the left was completely white with only a pinprick of a pupil in the center. "My lord," he repeated, "I have just received word that a second contingent was destroyed last night."
The Emperor sighed, apparently not surprised by this news. "Were there any survivors this time?"
"Yes. A Battle Nun managed to escape and make her way back."
"Bring her before me." He turned away from his servant and clasped his hands behind his back. However, even without seeing him, he could tell the Warfather wasn't moving. "Churl?"
"Forgive me my lord," the older demon said with a flourish of the hand, "but it would do no good to her or yourself. She appears to have... lost her faculties, unfortunately."
He nodded in understanding. "Could she at least say what did this?"
"She described some sort of flying creature that attacked in the darkness, made horrible noises, and resembled a deformed Tear Drinker." He paused, then said, "I cannot help but fear that the humans may be behind this. Their conference with the Gods, and the messenger that was spotted leaving Bladehenge the other day coincides suspiciously with these attacks. Perhaps they have found a way to gain control over the Tear Drinkers?"
The Emperor stared thoughtfully up at the alter. "Do not assume too much. That was my predecessor's downfall." Making up his mind, he faced his servant. "Ironheade has numerous soldiers patrolling the land in isolated groups. Go find one and bring me back a human... alive."
Before the Warfather left the room, he went on. "Oh, and Churl? There are too few of us left to be taking unnecessary risks, so... be careful." Somehow there was genuine concern on his terrifying face.
The Warfather bowed graciously and said, "Thank you, my lord."
A combination of gnawing unknown and a late summer heat wave was causing the days to crawl at a Rock Crusher's pace and had the humans jumping at shadows.
Eddie was one of the only people not on edge. He remained confident that once the Guardian awoke, everything would be sorted out. However by the third morning, when it seemed that the being might not wake up after all, even he was starting to feel the twinge of anxiety.
It was almost noon of that day when something finally happened.
Up in one of the watchtowers a Razor Girl stretched out on her stomach in what little shade its canopy provided as she tried to keep watch and not pass out. She was about ready to give up and snooze for awhile, when something shot up from the horizon out of the corner of her eye. Warily she stood up and spied it through her goggles.
A flair. A distinctive Ironheade flair.
It could mean only one thing.
A patrol was under attack.