Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer, RWBY, or Vermintide.
Author's note: Apologies for the long wait, folks, but I've been having a weird year. This chapter's been written half the current year as I've come back on and off trying to knock it out. I've been debating releasing the storyboard and marking it finished, as I loathe to leave things unfinished. Hope it was worth the wait.
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"Lilleath, Lilleath, Preserve me." Kirrillian continued in silent prayer as she fought.
Blackish blood seeped down her legs as she fought, unable to rest to treat the wounds she received from the fall. Her twinned swords moved with speed as she stabbed down through the skull of a smaller deathstalker, causing it to dispel as his blade exited its skull. She continued the exercise on another of the beasts before a third scorpion daemon stabbed down with its stinger.
Kirrillian braced the flat of her blade against her second, the strength of the blow causing her to stagger slightly before she followed up with a parry as the green and white grim overextended the elf stabbed down once again into the fold of its carapace.
She was in an antechamber of some kind. There were three open suspended platforms, walkways of some sort with a mesh of metal alloy acting as its pavement. The antechamber floor had several long deteriorated instruments scattered about, including several busted enclosures.
The Grimm seemed unending in a madness atypical of their kind. She had spent enough time fighting the daemon beasts to know they had a slight hint of intelligence, especially amongst the larger, older ones. Her time amongst the Waywatchers and with the Five had shown her it was a rare time that things were as simple as they appeared at first, and the Grimm was no exception.
She had a theory, one she wished not to dwell on. The Grimm weren't holes in the weave as she had first suspected. They were empty vessels or perhaps a filter for something she could not quite explain. The warpstone-corrupted Grimm before her were the inverse. Filled and unstable, no longer hungering but mad by their constant hunger, filled with the influx of power from the corruptive substance.
She wondered if the other wizards back 'home' suspected as much and if they had simply said nothing. She couldn't help but feel as if that wizard knew the expedition would lead to this. For what purpose, though? What was his game in this?
Kirillian continued the slaughter for some time. She had entered a trance, despite the blood loss from her wounds. Humans were at their best when not thinking, allowing their body's reflexes and subconscious impulses to lead them in combat, learned through years of conditioning, their brains taking far too long to put thought to action in most fights.
For the Elder race, this was the first step of mastery taught to the young. Next came what the Lumberfoots called battle meditation. A state in which conscious thought leads the body's unconscious impulses to fight in an optimal and efficient manner.
Most of the Elder race had such a state of one sort or another, from artisans to warriors. Kirrilian was not all that special when it came to such. As she slaughtered the corrupted things in droves, with each puff of smoke, a thin film of black clung to her.
The green tint of warp stone fades to black as the smoke falls to the floor. The charcoal-like residue still had some power, but it was freed from any taint of Chaos and began to be torn asunder by the weave of the world as far as she could tell. All but confirming the elf's suspicion of the nature of the things.
Suddenly there was a shudder in the weave, then it screamed. The barrier of the world being torn asunder, a being of malign intelligence bathed in rage, rearing its head into a world anew. A wave of dread befell the elf, not at the thought of combating such a beast but at its implications.
Kirillian broke away from the engagement after bifurcating the Ursine's bone-like mask with one of her daggers, the Asir made blade parting it. Jumping towards one of the platforms, Kirillian sheathed the knife in her right hand, grabbed the platform, and vaulted over its side in one fluid motion.
Now on the platform, she looked ahead, stopping momentarily to inspect and bandage her wounds. They were only at the surface, though blood loss would make it appear otherwise. She paid it no further mind.
Ahead was a glass window. It was unusual for human make, as instead of a flat pane of glass, it slopped downward in a curve to face the middle of the antechamber. Much like one of those display cases in a bakery she saw in the abandoned city.
The Waystalker attempted to put an arrow through the pane, but it bounced. This puzzled Kirrillian; human-made glass was very fragile, crumbling at a hard enough shove, more often than not, so impure that it wasn't even completely see-through. It was a reminder that the young elf was no longer in the old world and that these humans could not be judged by those standards.
The elf fired two more arrows into the glass, barely being scratched by the last arrow. In frustration, Kirillian pulled out one of her remaining Trueflight arrows, notching it and firing it through the window with a single word of power.
Whether due to the arrow's magic interacting with the imperean energies making themselves manifest in the immediate surroundings or to a dust alloy in the glass itself, the pane shattered into a thousand rays of light that seemed to pierce through the various Grim in the room still attempting to claw their way up to the catwalk the elf still stood upon. Allowing the elf time to finally bring out medical supplies to patch herself up.
Her left thigh had received a graze from falling debris on the way down. A smaller piece of shrapnel around two millimeters in length (.07 inches) was sticking out of a gap in her collarbone through her leathers. She disinfected the thigh wound with some looted liquor she had elected to save from the last bender she went on, then bandaged it after packing the wound with gauze. She then pulled out a small pair of tongs From her medical kit and bit the inside of her lip as she slowly extracted the shrapnel, which soon turned out to be at least six times in length as it had been in width. The thinner, almost wirelike piece of metal slowly came out a spirt of blood coming from her collar bone as she quickly packed the wound and attempted to bandage it. Its position at a difficult place for first aid.
Meanwhile, The Waystalker noted the magic from what she guessed what dust glass and decided to consider what happened later until more pressing matters were dealt with. After finishing tending her wounds, Kirrillian rushed through the observation platform, where the glass used to be, leading to another hallway.
Unlike the floor below, this one had a thick layer of black particulate layered over the entire causeway. It had glass portholes in the floor, allowing Kirrilian to gaze through the floor into the hall below, with several other doors in the hall mostly open leading to other observation platforms.
As she rushed down the hall, the sounds of battle began to be heard, and was that singing?
"Lilleath, of all the...
"WRATH AND VENGEANCE, GRUDGE AND SPITE"
"WE MARCH INTO THE AFTERLIFE"
The song continued in a gravely rhythm, the grim carol not seeming to damper the mood of one duo quite frankly too chipper for the situation they find themselves in.
Bardin and Sienna did not seem to find their situation of any concern, as the seemingly endless tide of enemies wasn't exactly new. Finding the battle almost pleasant as their foes had the decency to dissolve upon death rather than stick around and clutter up the place.
Sienna brought up her staff as a lithe shape dropped from an entire story.
"Oi, Wetelgi finally decided to join us? You've about skipped the scrap." called out Barden.
"I've no time for your bluster, dwarf. Can you two not feel it, smell it in the air? The stench of Chaos is growing stronger, and the... natives seem drawn to it," replied Kirillian.
"Iy and it seems the locals have other things on the mind, eh darlings, only have the warped ones to contend with at the moment," Siena said as she hacked through the neck of a warp-corrupted Creep with her sword. The ceramic-like scales on its neck gave way to her repeated swings as its neck was separated from its body. Followed by two white-green Beowolves attempting to rip the bright wizard's arm from her shoulder, Sienna pulled back and shoved the crossguard of her blade into the leading daemon's faceplate, following it up with a stab through its eye socket. The fiery blade exited the back of its skull, its vaporizing body dispensing more Warpstone into the air; the sword's flame turned a brief incandescent purple as some Warpstone dust surrounding it ignited. Her protective amulet warmed against her skin as it worked to ward off the taint.
The wave of Grimm was tapering out. Most completely ignored the group in favor of rushing through three parallel doorways opposite the room from where they entered. Leaving only their corrupted brethren behind, who were quickly finished off.
After which, Kirrillian wasted no time and followed along the tails of the tide of Grimm through the centermost doorway.
"Come along, Lumberfoots, we've a Weave to right."
Sienna made no argument as they followed behind the Waywatcher; Bardin chuckled as he followed after the pair.
"Haven't satisfied your blood lust, eh elf? Can't be letting them get away, I suppose," said Bardin
"There is something worse afoot than mere Grim Dwarf,"
"Ay, there's a stench beyond the Warpstone about the place. Let's kill the blasted thing, whatever it is, and get out of this Umgak shantytown already."
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Felix could not help but continuously curse whatever foul power landed him with the Deamon, almost literally biting at his heels. He felt the spawn of the blood god at his periphery constantly as if he was waiting for the slightest lax in alertness to burst through the wall and turn him into a crimson mist of effluvium.
Even now, he could hear it baying for his blood. He didn't know how long he'd been running, his Aura carrying him for endless hallways and rooms. Whatever physical exhaustion affected his old bones, having fled the moment he started pumping Aura into his being, coming to him as naturally as breathing. However, with his inexperience, he was pumping more into it than he strictly needed to, or so the Huntress told him. Leaving him tired in a different matter altogether as he ran with Calea.
"Do you have any idea where you're going?"
"No, but do you have a better idea?"
"We could...
The Huntress was abruptly cut off as the roof above collapsed in a shower of rock and debris, followed by a wave of black bodies streaming past the pair, knocking them down as they began to be trampled by a mass of Grimm flowing towards the general direction of the daemon. Shortly after, a considerably more battered duo rose, groaning in pain and soreness.
The daemon somewhere behind them screamed in further rage sometime later, the sound growing ever louder as the Kornate daemon drew closer. Both pairs of eyes stared up at the now-collapsed roof. The slope to shear of a climb to get up, even if the floor above's stability was not in question.
Calea, rather foolishly, in Felix's opinion, instead chose to leap. Felix followed, not wanting to be left alone, to the daemon.
"Ah, hello there, Miss. You've seem to have missed the party," said Kruber,
Upon entering the room, Felix saw Saltspyre and Kruber almost covered in charcoal-like residue slowly evaporating from their skin and armor. It would be almost comical to Felix if it weren't for the fact that an unholy spawn of Chaos wasn't nipping at his metaphorical ankles. They looked at the pair running for their lives and prepared themselves, their faces going white as they felt something approaching.
"Moor's teeth," cursed Kruber.
-Vermintide 2 Chaos Wastes - Citadel of Eternity Extended-
Pressure settled in the back of their mind's once more, and the coppery taste of blood filled their mouths.
Malificent laughter filled the room and shook the building.
"Ahhh, more souls for the slaughter! A Sigmarite and a toy soldier, outliving your empires, world, and even your gods, both retaining their gifts still. Interesting. Your skulls shall be fine additions to my lord's seat. Mayhaps I will attend to you in the killing fields after I have had my fill of Jaeger and inducted your companion. This world shall prove an excellent well of blood for Korne. I may show you in time, should your souls prove worthy.
The Deamon wasted no further time and lunged at Felix, bringing its first axe in a downward swing. All Felix could do was dodge as he thrust back, bringing up Karaghul as he used the force of the blow with his lunge to force himself backward. Kruber brought up his repeater rifle and unloaded into its back, the bullets not going further than skin deep, barely unconvincing the Blood Thirster. Kruber stowed the firearm, and a spectral blade formed in his hands once.
The Knight brought down the sword, and the daemon turned its head and snarled as its second axe moved to block. When the blades met, a deafening crash sounded. The Kornate Deamon's axe fragmented at the beard pieces breaking away as Kruber's spectral sword continued downward and stopped at the blade's haft. The Bloodthirster fully turned away from Felix as he swiped the first axe in a blinding swing across Kruber's left side. The Grail Knight catches it in the sword's crossguard, the force of the blow jarring his bones, and the floor shakes. The now beardless axe returned with a follow-up swing while the daemon kept Kruber's longsword bound with its other axe moving to finish the Knight in a single blow.
Felix moved back into range with Karaghul slicing at its arm, forcing the daemon to keep its attention divided as the poet flew in with a burst of speed from his aura-enhanced muscles in a series of strikes and blows, the daemon blocking each as they came. Then, Saltzpyre struck, lunging with his rapier forward within the daemon's guard lancing its eye, with a side arm in his other hand. He brought the massive firearm up to its gullet.
"Recieve the Judgement of Sigmar!" the former Witchhunter screamed.
The firearm barked, vibrating the Blood Thurster's bones and releasing a cloud of smoke. The Deamon howled in rage, deafening all in the room more than the firearm. It broke the bind it had with Kruber's blade, dropping its other axe and grasped the Witch hunter in a singular meaty hand and slammed him into the wall, once, then two times, before Kruber leaped and brought down his Spectral blade on the Deamon's shoulder. Slicing into it caused a gout of blood to shoot out toward the ceiling.
The bloodthirster howled in rage again and backhanded Kruber with the now Limp Body of Saltzpyre, the Sigmarite Priest's Aura shattering. Sending the Knight and former Witchhunter both flying back and attempted leaping on them both to guarantee their demise.
The Huntress, having nearly been inactive the entire fight until this point, brought out her billhook and attempted to clothesline the Deamon with Aura-enhanced strength, failing but still redirecting its landing away from the pair. As she stepped back out with it trying to spear its throat. It used its remaining axe to block the spear, but Felix, despite his terror, went back at the Deamon and attempted to hamstring it at its ankle.
Such a blow would have meant the end of a fight if the Deamon had followed the rules of its taken form's anatomy. However, the creature, for all its wounds, was still refusing to show the slightest hint of slowing down. Then a wave of Beowolfs came from all directions, slamming into the bloodthirster heads first before turning into puffs of black smoke. The red-skinned daemon taking on a show of gray.
For the first time, the Deamon cried in agony rather than rage. It lashed out at all the incoming Grimm. As the tide only increased in number, the daemon was pressed to the point of being forced to back up against a wall from the sheer number of the things as it swung its axes, now destroying the creatures in their entirety. More types of Grimm mixed in with the hoard. As it bellowed before, the tide suddenly and without warning stopped as the Blood Thirster sliced through the last of them. Calea set upon it again, having gotten over their shock at having been saved by the beasts a second time. Felix was at her side in a guard position waiting for the daemon to set upon him again.
The Huntress fired bursts from her weapon's carbine form as the daemon wasted no time in barreling towards the pair. With unreal speed, it struck down its axe where Felix had stood only a moment ago. With aura-enhanced speed, the poet dodged out of the way and attempted a repost, but misjudging the strength of the newly enhanced body he overextended. Allowing the Kornate daemon an opening to strike him with its free hand sending Felix crashing across the room. Felix Jeager's Aura shattered in resplendent light as he fell limply to the floor. The Bloodthirster grinned as it retrieved its second axe and turned to face Celea.
"Huntress," it bellowed at her.
"You have seen my strength and the strength of my lord. You hear the call of blood. This world can be yours if you claim it in Korn's name. Cast off the shackles that bind you and prove your strength. Your people have been dying a slow death at the hands of these abominations you call the Grimm for millennia; with Korn at your side, you can have the strength to save them and join the slaughter, to liberate Remnant, to forge it anew, not just a Remnant of the Old One's experiment but a new whole," the daemon continued.
All the while, the voices that have been dwelling within the back of the Huntress's head became louder, screaming at her to turn on her companions to maim, kill, burn, maim, kill, burn, maim, kill, burn, MaIM, kILL, bURn, MAIM, KILL, BURN.
Her entire senses were filled with it, and her vision began to turn red as she fell to her knees, screaming a second time that day as her world and consensus filled with blood. Then another roar of rage echoed through her bones, and she passed out on the floor, her aura shattering then voices finally stopped. Then a far more gruff voice called out.
"MORGRIM'S GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU!"
Then a hail of bullets fell upon the Deamon, every third or so shell leaving a small puff of smoke of the warp spawned's hide. Calea, however, knew no more as she fell to the ground, losing consciousness.
Bardin played as much fire upon the daemon as he could, but the crank gun could only slow the beast down as it slowly advanced toward him. Siena followed up, firing off lances of fire from her staff at the daemon, sizzling against its skin and leaving deep blackened pot marks against its hide. Kirriallian threw a pouch of unknown material at the creature, then knocked an arrow as the bag reached its terminus and fired.
"FLY TRUE," she commanded the magically infused arrow leaving a blue trail as it hit the bag, and multiple shards of dust glass suddenly lit up with the same light and flew as fast as the magic would take them to the daemon's face. The arrow itself embeds into the daemon's only remaining good eye, with the glass dust following behind, perforating its face. It flinched back briefly and dragged its hand down its face taking shards of glass with the massive appendage; it grinned as it snarled, leveling a challenge as it lumbered forward under the combined barrage of Sienna and Bardin.
"I HAVE TASTED THE STEEL THAT WHICH HAS SLAIN A GOD! I HAVE NO NEED FOR EYES TO KILL YOU! YOUR PARLOR TRICKS WILL NOT SAVE YOU!."
The Deamon then lept at Kirillian, both axes coming down in overhead swings; all the elf could do was dodge. If any strikes landed against her, she would not survive enhanced physiology or no. The Deamon was still nearly imperceptible in its movements to human eyes as the elf danced out of range of the beast. Sienna and Bardin still laying down fire against the Blood Thirster all the while.
"FOR THE LADY!"
At that moment, Kruber came into view, having recovered from the tangle of bodies, a spectral Longsword in hand, more significant than any he had conjured before. Premtivly warned by his calling out, the Blood Thirster turned in time to bring its damaged axe up to block. The blades met a second time, and the daemonic weapon's head shattered, and the haft crumbled in its grip as they met a second time. Kruber's Greatsword continued down, sliced through the Deamon's forearm, and grazed its chest.
A second pained scream came out from the Blood Thirster and lashed out against the Knight, bringing its hoof up and kicking out at him. Kruber barely had time to bring his sword and try lunging to the side in a guard stance before the overwhelming force grazed him and sent him spiraling sideways through the dust steel wall and into the other room, the Knight's Aura shattering the group losing sight of him.
In the meantime, Kirrillian, Bardin, and Sienna still lay as much fire into him as possible. Arrows, firebolts, and shots pelted the Deamon's head throughout the fight between Kruber and the Thirster. Its warp flesh resembles that of a pox-ridden burned hedgehog. Complete with arrow hafts for quills and bullets for lesions. It let out another deafening scream that blurred the vision as it turned to face the remaining treo.
It launched itself at the closest of them that being Sienna. Despite being blind, it still had its other senses, chief among them those based within the warp. Without them, its blade work suffered, and all its body seemed to finally be taking notice of all its wounds. This is the only reason Siena survived the onslaught of the now one-handed daemon. As she deflected a flurry of blows with her sword, the Kornate Deamon gained ground on her, backing the witch up into the room behind as Bardin's crank gun finally sputtered out as it ran out of steam.
The dwarf cranked his gun four times before pulling out his cog hammer.
"Dwarf, if you have another one of those bombs, now would be a good time to use them. Do you have anything that can banish the beast in that pack of yours? Some of those Torpedos, perhaps?" asked Kirrillian as they continued firing their longbow into the back of the daemon's head.
"Nay, I couldn't bring 'em through the Bridge, used 'em all up in the siege, didn't have time to make another." A brief look of trepidation, then a sorrowful look, came over the dwarf's face before saying. "But I might have something," he spoke Grimmly.
Flipping the weapon to its blade side, Badin rushed in with his Cog hammer slamming it down into the daemon's back. It left a long gash down its back, and the Bloodthirster brought its stub arm back in what would have been a backhand motion; the dwarf was able to dodge the wild swing as the daemon blindly rushed in another flurry of blows with its single hand. Swiping, almost seeking the dwarf rather than directly at him. In the meantime, Sienna brought out a sheath of flames on her sword and stabbed into the daemon's ribcage before they lunged back, anticipating the blind Bloodthirster's wild swing. Now exposed to the daemon's back again, Bardin brought out a crystal vial of dust and shoved it into the daemon's wound, burning his hand from its tainted blood before he pulled it back. Bardin turned to run and ducked.
The Deamon screamed as the vial cracked within its body from the pressure and ambient heat of its blood and was exposed to the dust within the vial. An eruption of light soon followed, and all sound was lost within the room as the daemon bellowed a third scream of pained rage.
Bardin's senses returned as he gazed upon the daemon. Its wings were gone, and so was most of its rear ribcage; it panted and huffed before it took in a single large inhalation of breath. It chuckled, then laughed, then laughed harder.
"Morgrim's beard, how is it still standing?" said Bardin in shock.
Kirillian's expression was grave, as much as an elf's possibly can be.
"The Weave, it's not letting it return back to the warp. It's thickening to keep it within this plane. Why?"
The Deamon's bellowing laughter shook the ground, and he raised his hand and stub up to the sky in apparent triumph. Then it turned to face the dwarf as it slowly lumbered forward, its body visibly regenerating as it slowly walked to the pair.
"Then we are to leave nothing left of it to regenerate from," replied Bardin in a grave matter.
"How do you suppose you do that, dwarf?" asked Kirrillian exasperatedly.
Bardin didn't reply as he brought out his crank gun again, he cranked it once, twice, three times, then four, and the dwarf gritted his teeth as he placed both hands on the crank and did it a fifth time. Pain rocketed through him as the Crankgun glowed with heat, and puffs of steam spewed everywhere. The crank's handle was near red with heat as he cranked a sixth time and slung the pack off his back. Keeping the gun itself in his hand as he cranked a seventh time. Barden's pack blanketed the ground in preparation as the boiler spewed heat and steam everywhere at a seventh crank. Then he finally looked up and let go from the crank gritting his teeth as he brought his hand away from the crank, his glove and most of the flesh from his palm sticking to it in a blackened mass.
"Dwarf?! Dwarf, by Lilieath, what are you doing?" called out Kirrillian in alarm.
"Finishing this bloody Wozzack of that's what. Go fetch the Dawri and Grimgi and take Sienna with you, do what you will with the Huntress. She might already be Dumal." Bardin whispered to Kirillian.
"Quit your foolishness, dwarf. We need to leave. The Blackfire cannons on the ship will be enough to deal with it." Kirillian attempted to continue but was cut off by Bardin.
"I've my daughter within the city. I will not leave her an orphan of two worlds elf. We take no chances in this. She's enough shamed of me as it is." The dwarf whispered back in reply with all seriousness, with a hint of sadness in his voice.
"Your plaything will not kill me, dwarf; in this place, I am immortal. None can banish me while I remain on this world," The daemon called out in mock laughter, arrogance leaking off him in waves as its damaged body continued to regenerate, walking closer and closer to the pair. Not even bothering to turn around while Sienna peppered him with bolts from behind.
"The Old One's design shall be this world's unmaking, a world in which my kind can manifest unending, a perfect field for slaughter!" It cried out in joy.
"Sienna get out of her; grab Kruber! I'll hold it off." called out Bardin as he brought out his pistol in his left hand, his right a charred mess barely able to function.
Kirrillian wasted no time, ran to the hallway, and circled back to the room where Saltzpyre and Felix lay in a heap. The Former Rememberer was sturring.
"Rise, Poet, the building is going to collapse. I can lead us to the stairwell, where we will meet with the others."
Felix slowly rose groggily, his vision spinning.
"Elf the daemon, where is it."
"Elsewhere, we need to move. We can't take it down. We need more Blackfire."
Felix nodded, thinking it was the sensible decision in the current situation.
Kirriallian looked over to the Huntress, still on her knees, wide-eyed.
"Huntress, can you move?" asked the elf.
Calea only nodded, not giving voice to the horrors still racing throughout her mind as Kirrilian moved and placed Felix over her shoulders and ran, not caring if Felix and Calea had the sense of mind to follow her out as she maintained a pace the other two could keep up with after picking up Saltzpyre, the unwieldy body of the tall witch hunter being a great weight on her shoulders. Kirrillian did not know if she would have bothered with the fanatic if Bardin didn't wish for her to take them, and she didn't wish to think about it.
The group eventually met up with Sienna and sprinted to the stairs as fast as they could. Siena caused the rest of the group to lag, not having Aura or enhanced physiology. Calea wordlessly took Kruber from Siena and put the limp Knight into a fireman's carry to increase their speed.
"Where's Gorikson?" Felix asked
"Fighting off the Daemon, he asked us to leave him while he brought the building down on the daemon," Kirrillian replied.
Felix's face went grim, and nodded.
"A mighty doom indeed," he replied
When they reached the surface, Calea wordlessly fired a flare into the air, her eyes a milky white as she stared into the air. When the Gyro Carrier picked them up, Marlot Industries shook, a shockwave shot out in every direction, and the building and complex beneath collapsed into a sixty-foot-deep sinkhole, the entire block of buildings around it falling within.
The group was silent as death the entire time they returned to Valaya's Triumph.
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The Deamon continued to laugh in the face of Bardin's stubbornness; he sprinted back away from the still-sputtering pack and fired into it. Morgrim forgives him as his precious creation shoots out the pressure of the boiler, releasing in a gout of pressurized steam spinning around, the force of water and steam slicing through steel beams and the floor as it shot around before detonating, the miniaturized boiler going off with the strength of a cannon.
The floor collapsed once again under him and the daemon. Bardin curled into a ball, and when he landed, he sprung from it, turning his head from side to side as he searched for an opening and ran.
"Coward! Where did your courage go, dwarf? Lost your wits when that pitiful device failed to slay me? I shall wear your hide as a loincloth, you worm! When I cleave through that pitiful shadow of a city you call home, all shall bear witness to your shame!"
The daemon called out to him in rage as he followed behind, the Crankgun's explosion not doing much in the way of killing him as it sprinted after the dwarf.
He eventually found what he sought and sprinted to the main antechamber. He had spotted it earlier and had messed around with some of the consoles before the tide of Grim came upon the group earlier.
Some Umgi crackpot started talking on a screen like some maddened wizard, spouting nonsense before he pulled out every wire he could and the hidden device within the console. He could guess its function well enough. Though the contained lightning of the cables was not something he had mastered, probably dumb luck that the thing didn't explode as he did it. He knew mechanical and chemical devices well enough, however. It would have to do as he dug through and reconnected assorted widgets and as many wires as possible within the console; it was then that the screen with the madman started going off again, and the Marlot fellow started scratching the Donglits about his own experiments while whatever explosive device bellow began to whir up in protest and promptly explode in the coming minutes, as he had guessed its function before. He turned to face the daemon again, bringing out his axe again, but in his left hand this time, as his right was unusable. Feeling he should be honest with himself, he called out to the daemon.
"I am a Dwarf! My honor is my life, and without it, I am nothing. I shall become a Slayer. I shall seek redemption in the eyes of my ancestors. I shall become death to my enemies until I face he that takes my life and my shame. Come at me, Deamon, and bring me my doom!"
Bardin cried out as he raised his axe, anticipating the daemon lunging at him. It did, and he deflected the demonic blade, redirecting the downward swing as he dived between the beast's hooves, slashing with the edge of his axe at the back of its leg and lept back up as the daemon rounded.
"GRIMNIR'S WRATH" Bardin screamed as the blade end of the Coghammer came down at the daemon's head. Then the world went white as the building exploded in vibrant light; the daemon's body slammed into him as the shockwave carried dwarf and warp spawn through the building. The daemon vaporized before Bardin's eyes then the world spun; black spots appeared in his vision before the world went black.
(Music End)
When Bardin awoke, he could no move, his mouth had dry, and blackspots swam in his vision. He attempted to move his head, but he found he could not. Eventually, his vision spun again, and the dwarf was face to face with the Blood Thirster again after it turned him over. The Warpspawn seemed to be laughing and then started talking to him, but he could not hear or speak, and the world was darkening. Eventually, the daemon seemed to notice, laughing once again, then lifted its axe.
Then, Bardin had a full view of the daemon; all its corded warp-tainted muscle was gone, so was most of its hide, and most of its bones were exposed. Its upper body had no connecting tissue with its lower, the same with its arms. Only thin whispy tendrils of red and bronze-colored light seemed to connect them, which appeared to be rapidly crystallizing to Bardin's eyes.
Begin playing: "Sonny Aftermath 2 (EXTENDED)" search on youtube.
When it moved to swing down its blade, preparing to deliver the Coup de Graz, a Beaowolf came into view, it seemed to be sprinting rapidly towards the daemon when it exploded in a puff of black smoke upon reaching it, and it covered the Blood Thirster in the same black Icor they had encountered so many times. They are another Beowolf, then a Bengle, then a Creep. The Deamon could not swing its remaining axe fast enough before it was covered entirely in Grim blood from a wave of beasts before all that was left was the lone statuesque figure. Then it hardened into Crystal over the Deamon, freezing it in place.
The crystal slowly began to change color from black into shades of red, grey, gold, silver, and so many other colors. The rainbow-hued statue of the Deamon would have almost been humorous at another time. Then the figure slowly began to crack, as if time was accelerated. The features and faint details on the now statue were the first to be worn away. Its arms fell off in stony chunks, its legs cracked, and its torso fell to the floor, like an Umgak statue being worn down by time in seconds. Then the fragments shattered.
A rainbow of light flew up into the sky, in trails of many-faceted colors, almost like snow. It was so beautiful it brought tears to the dwarf's eyes. It was then that Bardin realized it was Dust. The daemon's energy debased and turned into something so... beautiful, like the reverse of Chaos's perversion of things. Bardin smiled. Though Bardin was not versed in the arcane by any means, it likely meant that the Daemon had died a true death or would not return for a very long time.
It was there upon a hill now blanketed with Dust that Bardin breathed his last, smiling.