Cataclysm
The fanciest of moustaches
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Alquemada's Golems
A loud, boisterous laugh came from within Yulgar’s Inn. It stemmed from a renowned mercenary, Cataclysm, mocking the last man who had dared to stand before him on the battlefield.
“He was a weak one, that lad. I could tell he hadn’t seen more’n a week on the battlefield. It’s unfortunate someone so green had to meet up with me but aye, he was on the other side of the war, and I don’t get paid to sit idly by and let the enemy live, now do I?” He let out another laugh, thinking himself witty.
When he’d stopped laughing, he heard a tapping sound behind him. Craning his neck around to see what was causing it, he saw Valencia walking up to Yulgar.
“Yeah, it’s true Yulgar. Zephyros and I think we found the hoard of Alquemada. There’s going to be quite the gold cache there!”
Overhearing this, Cataclysm was intrigued. Treasure hunting wasn’t his preferred method of making money. He’d much rather be on the battlefield, where he felt most at home and at ease. Nothing calmed his mind more than a weapon in his hand and enemies at his front.
“Anyway, Yulgar, I best be going. Zephyros won’t be happy if I’m not there to help him with the money,” Valencia said as she got up to leave.
Cataclysm wasn’t the only one to overhear, though. An adventurer who had been listening to his war stories earlier overheard, as well, and followed Valencia. When he caught up with her outside, he offered his support and combat prowess for a nominal fee. Valencia, thinking a little muscle might help in the long run, agreed. It was fortunate that she did.
Upon their entry into the cave, the group was met with the golems guardians, the Hoardmasters. The vast multitude overwhelmed the group, forcing them back to the cave’s entrance. Even using the entrance as a choke point, they were not powerful enough to hold the golems back. They poured out of the cave and into the rest of Lore.
“Hey, mage,” Valencia said, calling out to the adventurer who had joined them. “Head back to Yulgar’s Inn and get Cataclysm… There seem to be a lot of these things. His help will likely be needed… He is one of the best mercenaries out there, after all.”
The mage eagerly nodded his head and ran off to Yulgar’s to recruit Cataclysm to the cause. He used as much mana as he dared to haste his arrival, and when he entered the doorway to Yulgar’s, he almost collapsed on the floor, leaning against the doorframe.
“Oy, Cataclysm!” he called out, the very effort of uttering those four syllables draining him of most of his remaining strength. “Your help is neede - oh gods…”
With that, he collapsed on the floor, completely exhausted, all his energy spent. Fortunately, another mage, well versed in the healing arts was able to revive him.
“How long have I been out? Oh gods oh gods oh gods…” he said, coming around. The look in his eyes was pure terror, showing far more than he could have ever said.
“Only a few minutes. How far did you run?” Cataclysm called out from the corner of the inn he was resting at, trying to suppress his laughter at the man collapsing from speaking.
“A-a-about forty kilometers…” (~24.8 miles, for those who don’t use the Metric system)
“And when did you leave?”
“Two hours ago.”
“Wha? No wonder you were so tired! That’s ridiculous. What could have possibly caused you to run so far, so fast, only to collapse at the entryway?”
“The treasure hoard we overheard Valencia talking about… It… it was guarded. Very heavily guarded. By a lot of four-hundred year old golems.”
“Eh, if it ain’t a war, I ain’t interested. You aughta know that by now, aye?”
“Yes, but that’s the thing. I may have understated myself when I said ‘a lot.’ ‘A lot,’ in this case, means something like five hundred thousand. All parading around the countryside since we couldn’t keep them in very effectively…”
“Five hundred thousand, eh? Now THAT sounds like fun. Shoulda said so earlier!” Cataclysm’s laughter filled the inn, echoing off the walls, despite how crowded it was.
“All right, I’ll do it. But only because it sounds like fun… Four hundred year old golems! Those things are older than I am! Hah, should be great.”
The mage sighed, relief evident on his face. Sure, Cataclysm couldn’t take out five hundred thousand of these ancient golems by himself, but his mere presence is enough to rally the troops and boost morale. This fight began to look up. They may just win it!
Cataclysm stood up from his seat, sending the chair he was sitting in shooting across the floor, back a solid 3 meters (~10 feet) into the wall behind him, smacking it with a loud thud that resonated Cataclysm’s determination. He strode confidently towards the entrance of Yulgar’s, preparing himself for the upcoming battle. His will was iron, his mind, steel. Once he’d crossed the threshold of the inn, there was no turning back.
This was war.
Turning sharply to the right upon exiting, Cataclysm walked over to his mount, his personal Chimera. He slung his left leg over its back and placed the foot into the saddle. Next, he strapped on his oversized and immense shield to his left arm, then gripped the reigns with the same hand. His right hand remained free, and would until he reached the battlefield, at which point, he would choose his weapon to use.
“Alright, Malice,” Cataclysm whispered, calling his Chimera by its general name. The Chimera had one name, for the Chimera as a whole - that was Malice. Each head had its own individual name, as well. The Dragon head was Scorn, the Goat head was Wrath, the Snake head was Chaos, and the Lion head was Geoffrey. The Lion always was the odd one out.
“Malice,” he whispered again, “today we venture out and fight golems four centuries old. I know what you’re thinking - all four of you - ‘This isn’t like what we normally do… Where’s the war?’ Let me tell you, these golems number in the hundreds of thousands. If that’s not a war, I don’t know what is. They’ve escaped a cave, loaded with gold, and it’s up to us to kill them all. Let’s initiate a permanent shutdown state on these things. Malice, CHARGE!”
His quiet speech finished, he shouted as Malice broke off at full sprint towards the battlefield. Within twenty minutes, the camp was within sight. Cataclysm pulled back on Malice’s reigns, slowing his speed to a slow gallop.
“We’re here, Malice,” he stated calmly to Malice. “We’re here and we’re gonna wreck us some old golems!”
Part Two - The First Fighting
Sitting atop Malice, Cataclysm rode into camp, his head high. Whispering and murmurs broke out as he walked past the tents. He continued his slow pace through the camp as the news of his entrance spread rapidly. Before he reached the center of their base, there was not a soul there who was unaware of his presence.
“My fellows!” Cataclysm shouted, silencing all those in the encampment. “Before us stands a plain. It may be a plain now, but in mere hours, it will become a battlefield. You are well aware of this, and also of the opponents we shall be fighting - four hundred year old golems. They number in the hundreds of thousands, and I do not expect this to be an easy fight. So, brave soldiers, let us fight to our deaths and cut these golems down! Do not let them reach the cities! If you need combat assistance, shoot a blue flame into the sky. Medical assistance, a red flame. Now, we ride!”
His speech concluded, Cataclysm pulled back on the reign in Geoffrey’s mouth, making him rear up on his hind feet. Turning Malice 180 degrees towards the plain, Cataclysm dug his heels into Malice’s sides, spurring him onward to the soon-to-be battlefield. After forty minutes of hard riding, the first golem was sighted.
“Hee-ya!” Cataclysm cried out, encouraging Malice to go faster. This golem would be his. He drew his Absolute Zero Spines as he rushed towards the golem.
“You shall not retrieve the gold! We Hoardmasters shall stop you!” the lead golem shouted at Cataclysm, watching his advance. His deep, gritty voice boomed across the plain, reaching the ears of the troops still on the horizon. The only one he could reasonably see was the single warrior charging suicidally at him, riding a Chimera, a crescent of metal raised above his head.
The Hoardmaster leading his fellows noticed that this warrior was approaching fast - extremely fast. He motioned with his sword to initiate the charge, but in the instant he turned his head towards his men, Cataclysm was upon him. Though not well versed in the arts of magic, Cataclysm knew how to use minor illusion magics.
Hearing his men gasp, the lead Hoardmaster snapped his head back around in time to see the sunlight glint off a shoulder plate that was passing right by his head. He glanced down towards his chest and saw a deep gash that had shattered the stone armor and ruined the inner mechanisms powering him. His last command was barely heard as he powered down.
“All troops… charge…”
Cataclysm pulled hard on the reigns, veering right in a half-circle, his initial attack complete. He had eliminated a general in the war, hopefully sending the remaining troops into disarray at least for a little while. Concentrating a small amount of mana in his hand, he shot up the purple firebolt, signifying his charge was a success and telling the soldiers to join him in the slaughter.
The message sent to his men, Cataclysm turned once more to face the trio of Hoardmasters that had decided to fight him.
“Fools,” he said, uttering the word with disdain evident. “Only three? This will be quick.”
Cataclysm tapped his feet lightly into Malice’s flanks, urging him forward into the trio, though little encouragement was needed. The Hoardmasters advanced, seeking revenge for their fallen general. They would not find it.
The first Hoardmaster came at the right. Cataclysm held his Absolute Zero Spines in his right hand, pointed them at the Hoardmaster, and spoke one word: “Freeze.”
As soon as the word was spoken, a blue ball shot out of the Spines and hit the Hoardmaster right in the chest, staggering him. The Hoardmaster felt he was slowing down and looked at his feet. Much to his surprise, he was freezing from the ground up. The ice grew more rapidly as it consumed more of his body, eventually turning him into an icicle.
The other two Hoardmasters were stunned, but their stupor quickly wore off. They both desired vengeance now. The one in front rushed headlong, while his companion attacked from the left. A soft chuckle escaped Cataclysm.
“Really now? Scorn, Fire Breath the central golem. Chaos, send the one on the left flying.”
Scorn lowered his head, then stretched it towards the sky, his mouth opening wide. Lowering his head so he was centered with the Hoardmaster’s face, he let out a jet of flame so hot, when the fire stopped, the entire Hoardmaster had been turned into glass.
Chaos, not wanting to be outdone by his Dragon body-mate, whipped himself hard to the left, smashing into the Hoardmaster attacking from that side. The Hoardmaster was surprised at how hard the Snake had hit him and recoiled briefly. That was his mistake. Chaos took advantage of the opening and opened his maw wide. He brought his mouth down the Hoardmaster, his fangs slicing down the center, cleaving the Hoardmaster in two.
Cataclysm laughed heartily at that, saying “Not what I told you to do, but points for style there, Chaos.” He stretched a hand back, and Chaos gave him as much of a high-five as you can give with your only appendage being your head.
“Now, we assault the front lines! Let’s roll!” Cataclysm cried out, his weapon hand itching for some more fighting. He dropped his Absolute Zero Spines in favor of a different weapon - a large hammer made out of blocks. “I hate this thing… But hey, it’s good for smashing stuff.”
Malice and Cataclysm charged into the fray once more, ready to enjoy this fight. The soldiers had almost reached the lines of golems, and Cataclysm saw fit to thin the golems’ numbers for his troops.
Together, the two of them, Chimera and Rider, headed off a small section of the golems’ warriors. There were a half-dozen Pumpkin Golems, three Sand Golems, two Adalons, four Iron Golems, and… What appeared to be a golem made entirely out of candy.
“So, sixteen on one? Bad odds… For you,” Cataclysm said, a smile creeping across his face.
“Scorn, Fire Breath the Sand Golems. Wrath, when we charge, shatter the Adalons - they’re crystal. Chaos, you take three of the Pumpkin Golems, I’ll take the other three and the four Iron Golems. Geoffrey you… Uh… Roar menacingly or something. I don’t know, you’re kind of useless. Now, attack!”
Scorn dropped his jaw and unleashed a torrent of dragon fire so intense, it would have made Akriloth jealous. All three of the Sand Golems were caught up in the inferno, and it spread to a Pumpkin Golem as well. Within moments, the three Sand Golems were in the same state as the Hoardmaster that had dared cross him earlier - glass of the highest quality.
Wrath lowered his head, his horns aimed at the first Adalon they would pass by. When it was within range, Wrath snapped his neck upwards, shattering the Adalon into tiny fragments that rained down upon them. The second Adalon approached, and for this one, he whipped his neck to the left, shattering it and sending the microcrystals flying right into the Candy Golem at such high velocities they shot straight through the chocolate bar in the center, killing it.
Chaos flung himself forward, stretching his neck as far as he could. His razor-sharp fangs sliced right through the vines supporting the first Pumpkin Golem, sending it right to the ground where its head hit a rock, splitting open like the Jack-o-Lantern it was. The second Pumpkin Golem launched its head at Chaos, but Chaos was ready. As the Golem’s head drew near, Chaos flung himself down with enough force that the Golem’s head was shattered, shards of pumpkin flying everywhere. For the third target, now paralyzed with fear at the rapid annihilation of his companions, Chaos had an easier time. He snapped out once more and buried his fangs into the Pumpkin Golem’s head, ripping it off and consuming the part that came with into his mouth.
Geoffrey tried to roar and scare something, but it came out more like a hacking mewl. He tried again, only to sneeze in the middle of it as a small pumpkin fragment flew into his nose.
Cataclysm swung his ridiculous looking hammer into the first Pumpkin Golem, shattering its chest and sending it flying away. The second Pumpkin Golem came at him, swinging its vine hands rapidly, but Cataclysm chucked the hammer at its head, taking the head clean off. He drew his spear, the Tonbo-Giri, and aimed at the first Iron Golem. Taking advantage of the shock caused by all the havoc Malice was wreaking, he drove the spear through the Iron Golem’s armor and swung his Tonbo-Giri over his head. He picked a second Iron Golem as a target and used his spear’s speed to launch the Iron Golem off his spear and into the second Iron Golem. The third Iron Golem approached at the same time as the fourth, and they both rushed him.
A smirk drew across Cataclysm’s face, the evil glimmer shining brightly in his eyes. He held Tonbo-Giri out at arm’s length and called upon the wind spirits residing inside. They listened to him and lent him their power, slicing the two Iron Golems, reducing them to scrap piles. He cast his gaze around eagerly, looking for that third Pumpkin Golem, only to see no such golem present. Cataclysm noticed a distinctly pumpkin-smelling ash pile next to the three Sand Golems that were now glass.
“Bad Scorn!” he said, whapping Scorn across his head with the flat side of the spear. “You know better than to take my kills. Bad Dragon head! Bad!” he said again, continuing to smack Scorn. “I’ll punish you properly when we get back to the camp.”
Cataclysm now cast his gaze across the entirety of the battlefield and noticed a blue flare erupt from a nearby area. He traced its approximate location and saw the mage who had earlier came to Yulgar’s Inn to alert him of the impending battle. The mage was surrounded by a half dozen Iron Golems, all eagerly trying to take him out, swinging their heavy axes at his squishy mage body, protected only by the Aeromancer’s Robes he was foolish enough to still be wearing.
“Gotta protect him! C’mon!” Cataclysm pulled back on Geoffrey’s reigns and steered the Chimera right to the center next to the mage. As they arrived, one of the slow Iron Golems got a lucky hit on the mage, striking his leg hard. He could no longer dodge or even move very easily.
“Scorn, melt ‘em! Wrath, bash ‘em! Chaos, pull the mage up behind me. We’re taking him away… and Geoffrey, um… I got nothing. Just try to do something useful.”
Scorn once again opened his mouth and shot a concentrated jet of flames, no more than 5 centimeters wide (that’s 2-ish inches). All the magic was concentrated into that small blast of fire, and it shot clean through the Iron Golem it was aimed at. Scorn kept up the blaze and drew his head to the right, melting the Iron Golem into two halves. He continued to draw his head around and took out a second Iron Golem in the same manner. For the third Golem, he aimed high in the chest, drew a circle, then placed two dots inside the circle, and finally a small arc below the dots.
Wrath shattered the first Iron Golem just as he had the Adalons before. The impact of shattering the iron was much rougher on him, though, so he wasn’t ready for the second Iron Golem that came upon him. He barely dodged the axe coming down, but quickly retaliated by slamming his horns right through the Golem, impaling him instead of smashing him. The third Iron Golem met a similar fate, rushing to assist his friend. Instead of being able to help, however, he was impaled himself.
Chaos, taking advantage of the chaos, wrapped his neck around the injured mage and placed him behind Cataclysm on Malice’s back. The mage wrapped his left arm around Cataclysm and held on tight.
Cataclysm pulled Malice hard to the left, his Tonbo-Giri at the ready in case anything was still around. He sensed it was safe and glanced down at the carnage. When he saw Scorn’s third kill, he sighed.
“Really Scorn? You had to go and make a smiley face out of our opponent’s chest? And people say I have no respect for the weak… Tch.”
Scorn did his best to shrug, but he was rather pleased with his work. It wasn’t his best, but it was quite nice.
Cataclysm rode Malice hard to get them back to the camp. The mage was not doing very well, his leg was quite bad.
“You idiot! Why were you taking them on in the Aeromancer’s Robes? It was SIX ON ONE! Some mages wouldn’t have had any problems, but as soon as you realized you were outnumbered and outmatched, you should’ve sent up a flare. Baaah. You’re lucky it was me who responded - you could’ve got yourself killed.”
The lecture continued all the way back to the camp. When they arrived, night was about to fall and the troops were seen to be turning around and heading in for the night. Cataclysm went back into the Aid Tent to check up on everyone. The healers were working hard, but not everyone could be saved. After an hour of going around and checking on his soldiers, he left the tent.
By then, everyone had arrived back. The final death toll for today was at twenty five of his men, with four hundred twelve injured. One hundred and five were irreparably injured, two hundred thirteen would be better in a week, seventy seven in a month, twelve in a year, and five within two days. It was a rough day… The mage he had rescued was one of the seventy seven.
“So, men, how many of theirs did we claim?” Cataclysm inquired, his voice louder than everyone else’s.
“I’d say they’ll be done tomorrow! We got them on the ropes! Our forces easily wiped theirs out, no problem!” voices shouted these and more - the general consensus was it’s almost over.
Two of his soldiers stationed on watch came in with a Hoardmaster.
“Aye, Cataclysm… This guy’s claimin’ ta be a messang’a or sommit like dat. Wanna ‘ear ‘im out?”
“Yes, let’s see what he has to say…”
“Thank you, valiant warrior,” the Hoardmaster began. “We wish for this war to end soon, and we came with terms of your surrender.”
“Not happening. Not now, not ever. We don’t give up,” Cataclysm said, cutting him off, steeled determination in his eyes.
The Hoardmaster sighed. “Fine then… Tomorrow, we send the remainder of our forces. Our leader, the Golden Hoardmaster will be looking for you. If you can defeat him, we shall surrender. If he defeats you, then you shall surrender. Are those terms fair?”
“Fair? Yeah. Boring? Certainly. We’re going to wipe out every last one of you guys. Hope your boss is better than the rest of you - you’re all pathetic,” Cataclysm sneered, raw disgust with this pathetic Hoardmaster daring to act his equal. He needed to be put in his place.
“Now, tell your boss this for me… We’re going to kill all of you. And now, I’ll send you back to your leader faster than you got here.”
Cataclysm grabbed the Hoardmaster, lifting the Hoardmaster above his head. These things are heavier than I expected, Cataclysm thought, getting tired from the effort already. Still, he aimed towards the cave and threw the Hoardmaster as hard as he could, sending him almost all the way to the enemy. That’ll send ‘em a message.
“Alright men, we got a long day ahead of us… Let’s rest up for the night.”
Part 3 - The Final Fight
At dawn of then next day, they arose from their slumber and prepared for the battle. The only sounds heard inside the entire camp were leather sliding across metal as cuirasses were synched into place, metal clanking against metal as greaves were put on, and the soft swish as a warrior tested his blade’s balance.
“This is the last stand of the golems. We end them today, and we return to our families tomorrow! Let not one stand! Now, we march!” Cataclysm called out once the troops were prepared, sitting atop Malice.
He pulled on Malice’s reigns hard and to the right for a sharp turn. Then, he raised his Absolute Zero Spines high above his head. In one swift motion, he brought his arm down, leveling it with the golems’ camp, signaling the direction they would march. An uproar followed when the soldiers cheered as they began to march.
An hour later, the two armies stood facing each other, no more than half a kilometer (about a third of a mile) away. The Golden Hoardmaster stood ten meters in front of his troops, and Cataclysm stood ten in front of his. An unspoken message crossed the distance between the two and was immediately sent to the armies. All soldiers, from both sides, rushed into battle.
The front lines collided and the sound of metal clashing against metal was deafening. No one could hear anything over the sounds of shields clattering, swords striking, and armor shattering. This fight would be far more bloody and costly than the last one was, Cataclysm thought grimly.
But he had his own fight to attend. The Golden Hoardmaster had not advanced with his troops. Cataclysm already viewed this golem with disdain. He was sending his soldiers to fight while he rested away from the mayhem. There were few things Cataclysm hated more than a coward.
Rage building inside him, Cataclysm decided that the Spines were not the best solution in this scenario. Instead, he pulled out a different weapon - his own personal blade, a wind-enchanted claymore of tremendous size. It was easily one and a half meters long (~5 feet) and incredibly heavy to a normal person, despite the wind enchantment making it significantly lighter than it should have been. Due to Cataclysm’s abnormal strength, he wielded it as if it were as light as a shortsword.
Cataclysm normally didn’t use this weapon under any circumstances, but he was disgusted with this Golden Hoardmaster’s cowardice. It was a decision made entirely out of the loathing he felt toward their “leader.”
The four Iron Golems that stood before him were cut down, cleaved in half in an instant by the massive blade. Malice did not even slow down as they approached the pair of Pumpkin Golems that stood before them. Chimera and rider were perfectly in synch and knew exactly what the other wanted. Scorn unleashed a torrent of fire on the left golem, while Wrath rammed his head into the other so hard, he flew back and his gourd armor shattered against the tree. A Candy Golem attempted to stop them by breaking itself apart and launching at them from behind, but Chaos whipped around so hard, the candy that made up the golem was fragmented beyond any repair.
After a few more moments of carnage, nothing stood between Cataclysm and the Golden Hoardmaster. The Hoardmaster was obviously disturbed by Cataclysm’s incredibly rapid advance and the almost instantaneous elimination of the troops that stood before him. Even so, he raised his sword and prepared a charge.
Cataclysm immediately knew what to do, raising his humongous shield to block the impact, tilting it slightly to direct the force down the shield and away from his body. He immediately retaliated with a swift horizontal slash, removing the Hoardmaster’s entire left arm in one fell swoop.
The Golden Hoardmaster staggered back, shocked at the speed with which the gigantic blade had traveled through the air, and at how little damage his own attack had caused. He would need to think his next attack through a lot more. Inspiration struck, and he rushed Cataclysm again.
Cataclysm twisted Malice’s reigns to the left, opening up his right side for the Golden Hoardmaster to attack. The massive golem saw this and tried to take advantage of it. Wrath would have nothing of the sort, however, and lowered his head as the golem drew closer. When he was within range, Wrath flicked his head back up, launching the Golden Hoardmaster high into the air.
Scorn, not to be outdone, craned his neck straight up and shot strong jet of flame right at the Hoardmaster. The Golden Hoardmaster noticed the fireball traveling at him and raised his sword, flat side outward, to block the flame as he came crashing down to the ground below him. The impact was enough to create a small crater, cracking his left leg a bit, but his sword had fortunately diverted the flame around most of him. The sword itself had been damaged immensely, however, and was now useless.
The Golden Hoardmaster cast the sword aside, not much more than a twisted piece of recently molten rock. He was fortunate to be alive. Leaning more heavily on his right leg to prevent the spread of the crack in his left, he arose and grabbed a second sword from a nearby fallen Hoardmaster, preparing to fight more.
Cataclysm was surprised that the golden golem had managed to block Scorn’s fire. Perhaps this opponent was more worthy than I had believed… Cataclysm thought to himself, slightly impressed. He pulled sharply to the right on the reigns to bring Malice about and face the Hoardmaster. By the time Malice had completed the quick turn, the Hoardmaster was upon him.
The Golden Hoardmaster was glad Cataclysm had underestimated his speed. That allowed him to close the gap between the two and prepare a strike. He raised his blade high with his only hand, and brought it down full force at Cataclysm’s head, the warrior caught completely off guard.
Malice, however, was not. Ignoring Cataclysm’s previous command, the Chimera continued to turn until Wrath was the one about to take the blow. He prepared for the impact, angling his horns to take a glancing blow and divert the force to the side.
The Hoardmaster didn’t realize this was happening until it was already in place. He swung his heavy blade down, shards of earth flying about as his blade collided with the ground. He noticed Cataclysm was still alive and was very angry. The look of raw hatred in his eyes was evident to even the most ignorant of people, and Cataclysm’s palpable rage permeated the air. The last thing the Hoardmaster saw was that massive claymore raised high in the air.
Cataclysm brought the blade down with enough force to cleave the Hoardmaster in two, which it did. He was not done there. His rage blinded him, anger fueling his next dozen slashes, fragmenting the body into tinier and tinier shards until he began to calm down. Finally, he stopped swinging his blade and turned his attention to Wrath.
Wrath was in sorry shape. He hadn’t anticipated the full force of the blade, and instead of being diverted, the blade smashed through the horns about halfway along their length. Multiple of the large fragments from the collision had imbedded themselves along the side of his face, and many more had glanced by, causing deep gashes.
Cataclysm stowed away his blade and picked up Malice. It was awkward, but he set to running back to base camp so his Chimera could get medical attention.
“I’m sorry… He was weak. I should have just eliminated him straight away, but I was furious with his cowardice and so I decided to toy with him… As a result, you were injured. This is my fault. Next time, I’ll end it quickly. And Wrath… Thank you for saving me,” Cataclysm said, his sadness tangible in the words. He regretted his decision to make the Hoardmaster feel weak and useless. Moreover, he hadn’t anticipated how fast that huge chunk of stone could be. He’d done a terrible job and he knew it.
An hour later, he came back into the camp, exhausted. Cataclysm dropped Malice off in the tent and asked about Wrath. They assured him Malice would be fine. Chimeras are magical beings, after all, so he’ll heal up fine. His horns, though, would take awhile to fully regrow. Once he had heard all of this, Cataclysm picked up his weaponry and began to march off to his tent
One of the medical staff called after him, “Wait! Where are you going?”
Turning his head over his shoulder, he responded grimly, “I’m not leaving my troops… and I have some business to settle with these golems.”
Donning the Castigator’s Doctrine armor, he set out with one thing on his mind… Vengeance.
His claymore slung over his shoulder, he dropped his shield at the entrance to the tent. He didn’t need that bit of protection. This was going to be a slaughter. No more men were going to get injured. In his left hand, he took up the Absolute Zero Spines once more. With the claymore in one hand and the Spines in the other, there wouldn’t be anything to stop him. He sprinted off to the battlefield.
Upon his arrival, all of the soldiers started fighting harder. He shouted to them over the sounds of battle, “Men! I have slain their leader, the Golden Hoardmaster! They have no one to guide them, and now, we strike back and finish them! Remember, they have slain our comrades - and they demand vengeance. Let us finish these foolish golems for those who have given all they had for the cause!”
The troops began pushing even harder, knocking the enemy back. Staggering losses were incurred by the enemy, not the least of which were caused by Cataclysm himself. He was as a demon on the battlefield, ignoring the front lines and killing everything within range. Even his own men were afraid to get near him. The golems behind him were having a hard enough time maintaining rank and keeping their front lines intact to survive, so the ones before him had no backup aside from themselves.
Cataclysm swung his claymore in a semicircle in front of him, a swath of destruction to anything that lay in its path. He jumped up, spinning, and fired off three freezing bolts from his Spines before coming down and cleaving another golem in half. He charged through ten meters of golems with his claymore extended to his right, and the spines held tightly on his left, creating a line about two meters wide filled with nothing but golem remains. Still, only one thing remained on his mind: Vengeance.
With that line drawn, he blasted more golems with the Spines’ freezing bolts. As they succumbed to the numbness spreading across their bodies, a swift line was drawn across their chests by the claymore, splitting them in half. Not satisfied with the casualties inflicted yet, he continued spreading death throughout the entirety of the day, killing golems left and right.
Finally, at the end of it all, the golems were nothing but shattered remnants of what they once were, their mechanisms exposed to the air and obliterated. The golems had lost, and they had lost miserably. Since Cataclysm’s arrival back at the battlefield, they had not sustained a single life lost. Despite this, the number of injured was more than triple what they had the day before.
The war was over, the battle done. There was a celebration at camp as the thousands of soldiers feasted over their victories, sharing their stories of how they killed the golems. Only one able-bodied man was not present - Cataclysm. He stood before the ninety seven brave warriors who would never be able to return to their families. Those that had loved these men would find out soon enough, but for now, he was the only one to mourn them and their loss.
Heart heavy after all that had happened, he left the tent that was serving as the morgue and raised his head high, laughing jubilantly with the men. In truth, he couldn’t remember most of the day, but his men certainly did. They told him all about what had happened and they all joked jovially. Cataclysm did a cursory glance and noticed that even the injured were here, celebrating and laughing. Everyone was here and enjoying themselves immensely - except those ninety seven, who were never again to laugh.
< Message edited by Teh Cataclysmic One -- 6/6/2011 20:16:47 >
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