Cataclysm
The fanciest of moustaches
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Chapter Six Two
The New Hope
The two fighters walked through the time portal for what could have been seconds, minutes, hours, or even days. Cataclysm couldn’t tell. He was used to traveling inside devices, not directly through the portal. Time was different here, that was all he could tell. Neither of the two men spoke, the time stream silent except for the soft clanking of the armor.
Finally, they emerged. The man in the eerie red armor was greeted with cheers as Cataclysm stepped forth. He flicked his gaze around, trying to take in Falconreach, a town survived only in stories in his timeline.
“Ah, you’re back!” one of the men, a great, large Guardian, standing a full head over Cataclysm, an already abnormally large man, called out. “Looks like those Chronomancers are actually useful. Wasn’t more than twenty seconds since ya left us before ya get back with this guy. He looks tough.”
Cataclysm laughed a bit. “Do I look tough now? Should see me when I’m heading into battle. Scare away even the fiercest of opponents, I do. This armor is pitiful compared to what I’m used to wearing. Though this guy,” Cataclysm nodded towards his escort, “has a nice looking armor.”
For the first time since their return, the man in red spoke. “Nice looking? That’s not an apt description. It’s an armor born of horror and fear, its power legendary, but at a price. It’s the armor of the DoomKnights, of which, Sepulchure is the leader.”
Cataclysm was taken aback by this. “So, you mean, the guy who slew your comrades is your leader?”
“No, not in the slightest. A raid we executed obtained a small quantity of these armors. Many of our soldiers are outfitted with these armors. Their already ample combat prowess is magnified many times with these armors.”
“Hmm… That sounds useful,” Cataclysm said, pondering its usefulness, especially coupled with his power.
“Unfortunately, we’re out of these armors at present.” Cataclysm’s smirk immediately disappeared, evidently displeased. The DoomKnight continued talking, however. “You want one? Kill Sepulchure. His armor can be all yours.”
This offer made Cataclysm all the more enthusiastic to bury a blade deep in Sepulchure’s body.
“Now that I’m here, and wearing my least useful armor, what am I supposed to do? Got anything for me?” Cataclysm asked, eager to get to the battling.
The huge Guardian lobbed him a longsword, its weight uneven and poorly balanced in his hands. “Here. It’s what we got on-hand. You want somethin’ better, listen to what this guy has to say,” he said, motioning towards a man wearing a shiny silver armor, dragon heads adorning it, the chain mail showing clearly in some places.
“What kind of armor is that?” Cataclysm inquired. So far, the only armor he recognized was the Guardian armor, though his knowledge of armors was vast.
The man wearing the curious armor replied casually, “Oh, this? It’s the armor of the DragonLords. You’ll find out about that more later, though. Now, what’s important, is this.” He unfurled a map of the town and its immediate surroundings, one location marked with an X, and at least a dozen with a skull.
“These skulls,” he said, pointing out a few, “represent swarms of undead exceeding one hundred in number. There’s at least two hundred more bands of undead of about one dozen in size scattered around the outskirts, with the main force still coming. The X marks the location of Master of Flames’s body.”
“Ah, I see. You want the body retrieved so it can be buried, right?” Cataclysm interrupted, cutting the DragonLord off before he could finish the explanation.
“That’s part of it. The other part is his final wishes. See, you had to leave your weaponry and armor in your time because it doesn’t exist here, and likely never will. To bring them here would do irreparable damage to the timeline, altering the course of history. Your mere presence may have done such, but we had to have damage control, hence your restrictions on equipment.” The DragonLord motioned at Cataclysm’s Guardian Plate, the only thing he was allowed to bring to this time.
“Master of Flames’s final wish was for a warrior to take up his place. This includes taking his items.”
Cataclysm was aghast. “You want me to rob his body and take his equipment?”
The DragonLord shook his head. “No, Cataclysm. He wants you to do that. It was part of his final request. You also are to take his armor, his DragonAmulet, and, as much as it pains me to say it, his dragon, as well.”
“Wait, I get a DRAGON? This day just got better. Way, way better.”
“It’s merely a child right now, a toddler. However, on occasion, with the DragonAmulet’s power, it can grow to titanic size. The size of a small mountain.”
Cataclysm’s face lit up like a kid in Battleon’s Ye Olde Candie Shoppe.
“Don’t expect this to happen any time soon, though.”
Instantaneously, Cataclysm was crestfallen, like a kid who got yanked away from Battleon’s Ye Olde Candie Shoppe.
“So, the body resides here,” the DragonLord said again, motioning to the X on the map. “You’ll have to worry about these two mobs of undead,” indicating two nearby skulls. “If you can get past these, you can retrieve his weaponry. Once you have that, bring back the corpse. We’ll prepare him for burial and give you his armor. His weapons should help. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, that’s not the best of swords.”
Cataclysm nodded, giving the sword a disapproving glare. This thing was terrible. He wouldn’t consider giving it to any one of his soldiers, not even Rod, the jerk who always made fun of the rookies. It was a death sentence to anyone without experience, and a severe handicap to anyone with experience. He doubted he could handle his mid-level soldiers three on one with this kind of weapon.
The DoomKnight spoke up again, motioning towards the exit of the town. “If you’re smart, you’ll avoid the undead. If you’re suicidal, you’ll attack them. Just get the body and get back before you make the undead angry. Good luck.”
Nodding his head, Cataclysm made for the exit of the barricade. Suicidal? he thought to himself. These guys don’t know me… I’m not one to avoid fights. I’m one to seek ‘em.
***************
Once Cataclysm was out of earshot, the three soldiers began laughing. “You know he’s going to go right for those undead, right?” the big Guardian said, more a statement than a question.
The DragonLord nodded his head, stating calmly, “Of course I was aware of it. That’s why I made such a big deal to point it out. This will be a good test for him.”
The DoomKnight agreed, saying, “If he can’t deal with these undead, maybe he’s not the man for us. Though, I can’t help but feel like we could have given him a decent sword, instead of one Cysero made when he tried to learn weaponsmithing with his feet?”
The three men laughed again, remembering the incident.
***************
Cataclysm walked through the brush, bushes getting in his way. His movements were loud and extremely hindered by the copious undergrowth. Progress was slow, but he was moving. By his estimation, he was nearing the first wave of undead. He remained vigilant as he passed the area.
His ears pricked up suddenly, catching something. It sounded like the clattering of bones together. It rapidly grew louder, the undead evidently aware of his presence. Within minutes, he was surrounded completely, undead on all sides. He cursed his luck. The undead swarmed him at once, all collapsing upon him. The sound of bones on metal was absurdly loud, aggrandized by the skeletons collapsing on their own weapons.
Out of nowhere, undead started flying apart, with no visible reason. Cataclysm released the enchantment and fazed back into view, blade high, the artificial specter he’d created fading into nothingness.
Using Illusion magic was nothing new to him, but to create an illusion for this long, and to not just create a visual image, but mask his sounds and create sounds from far away took a lot out of him.
The undead were still piled up and having difficulty getting themselves together, literally in some cases. Cataclysm brought his awkward sword down many times into the pile, dispatching undead left and right until there were none remaining. The pile of bones was large on both sides of him, and swinging that awkward sword around, even at a large, stationary target, was rather exhausting. Fortunately, the undead had supplied a plethora of much better weaponry for him to use.
Cataclysm picked up a spear and tested its weight. He determined it would be usable and dropped his sword.
“Hope they don’t mind,” he muttered. “Thing’s a piece of crap anyway.”
Now with a spear in hand, Cataclysm trudged onward, more than happy to leave that terrible longsword behind. An approximation of the map appeared in his head as he plotted his path from here. The second wave of undead was around here somewhere, and part of him wanted to come across the undead.
As he walked, he made note of the foliage and other notable traits of the land. They’d be important for later expeditions and offensives. Much sooner than he would have expected, he heard the clattering of bones again.
“Bah,” Cataclysm whispered, gripping his spear firmly in his right hand, making a fist with his left. He ducked behind a tree and waited the undead to approach.
A few moments later, the first undead came into his line of sight, walking right past his hiding spot. He lunged out with a sharp left jab, taking the skeleton’s head clean off and sending it into the undergrowth. Spinning rapidly, he drove the spear through the sternum and the spine of the second undead, collapsing it. The third undead in the line rushed him, and he swept that undead’s feet out from below it with the hilt of the spear, then spun the spear around and jabbed it into the undead’s neck.
A dozen more undead approached him, breaking the line they were in. Cataclysm gulped, knowing this spear was not the best of weapons he could be wielding. Still, he prepared himself as the undead formed a circle around him, trusting his senses to let him dodge the ones behind him.
Cataclysm lunged forward, driving the spear into the first skeleton’s head, taking it off. Snapping quickly back, he brought the spear behind him, breaking the undead’s ribcage with a swift hit to the sternum. He turned the spear to the side and swung it through the ribs of the next undead, splitting it with the sharp head.
An undead attacked him from the side, lobbing a fireball at him. Cataclysm dodged left, allowing the fireball to pass by. He retaliated quickly and drove the spear under the jawbone of the skeleton, flicking its head back at another undead, taking them both out.
Using the momentum, he swept his feet forward and knocked down another skeleton, quickly severing the undead’s neck with the spear. Before he had even withdrawn the spear, more undead had filled in the ranks of those he’d slain.
How many had that DragonLord claimed there were? Over one hundred? This could take a while, Cataclysm thought grimly. He steeled his nerves for what he expected to be a lengthy fight.
After a little more undead slaying, he realized these hundred undead would be a little harder to fight than he’d expected. He’d taken down maybe fifteen or twenty, and they just kept coming back. If he’d had Malice with him, this would be much easier. Twelve monsters could be slain within seconds with Malice as his mount, but Malice was back in Battleon.
Still, he wasn’t one to run away from a fight, so he was going to have to tough this out. A moment’s thought later, he dropped his spear and picked up a pair of axes dropped by some of the undead earlier. Both axes were brilliant weapons, sharp and heavy, but weighted well enough.
Cataclysm decided the time had come, and he unleashed his full strength. With his power fully released, he could swing his signature sword, a meter-and-a-half long claymore, with the same ease as a trained fighter wielding a rapier. Mere moments later, the dozen undead around him were piles of bones, a flash of black and silver being the only visible evidence of their demise.
More undead replaced those that had just been slain, and they fell to the same fate. The twin axes he now carried were brought down with such power and such speed, they split the undead in two pieces, even via vertical slashes. Within seconds, the replacement undead were in pieces again.
Still more undead stepped forward, evidently eager to join their friends. Cataclysm was all too eager to oblige them, though he was quickly growing weary of these undead and their continuous assault. Once more, he raised his axes, though this time, he threw them at two undead on either side of him, the axes sliding through their ribcages like they were butter.
He dropped down, lying flat on the ground, waiting for the opportune moment. His hands grasped a pair of spears that were lying nearby, readying himself. The skeletons drew closer, exactly as he knew they would. When two raised their spears, he pushed off the ground, using his brute strength to launch himself into the canopy. On his way down, he hooked his legs to a branch and dangled upside down.
From his perch, he flung his spears down at the undead, taking two of them down. He then released his legs from the tree and spiraled to the ground, landing on his feet with a heavy thud, but behind the entire mob of skeletons. As if they were of one mind, they rotated to face Cataclysm once more.
He was prepared for this, though. Focusing his strength in his legs, he pushed off from his spot, speeding towards the undead. Determination setting his face in stone, he balled his hands into fists and drove them into a pair of undead, sending them flying back into the skeletons behind them, and into the skeletons behind them. Those two punches incapacitated six undead.
The punches hurt his hands, but he wasn’t done yet. He picked up two more axes from the undead he’d just slain, and prepared himself. There were still at least fifty undead to slay, and he wasn’t going to stop here.
Cataclysm held the axes out at his sides, slightly back so they were just out behind him. In the blink of an eye, he was on the other side of the mob. Another dozen undead collapsed behind the path the axes had taken. He placed power in his legs once more, and used the power to jump, doing a quick spin in the air to land in the midst of the left half of the mob of undead.
Executing a quick spin, the undead in his immediate vicinity were cut down, their bones collapsing to the ground in a puff. Cataclysm rapidly turned and faced the remaining undead in the section. Of the original fifty, only twenty five or so remained. Easy pickings with his full strength released.
He decided to have some fun with these few. Extremely quickly, he dashed between the undead and cut down another five, their ribcages sliced diagonally, cleaving as many bones as possible. Cataclysm spun on a dime, and dashed forward again, completely bifurcating another five, their halves falling in opposite directions to make the kills more spectacular.
Seventeen still remained. He sped left, threw the axe in that hand, and removed the skulls from another three undead with the axe. Its trajectory planted it in a rock, after it cut through a tree. The tree itself fell and crushed another four undead beneath it. One axe left in hand, Cataclysm dashed forward and leapt high. He held the axe below him and cut another two undead’s skulls in half.
Eight were left. Cataclysm brought the axe down another undead, splitting it in half straight down the spine before spinning in a semicircle, crouching slightly, and throwing that axe, cutting another two in half at the waist. He then dashed forward and dealt a strong uppercut to another pair of undead, each fist catching one on the chin, launching their jaws into the skies above.
Three undead stood out of the original hundred or so. Cataclysm launched himself forward, propelling himself towards the nearest undead. He wrapped his dexterous fingers around the femur of the skeleton and yanked it out. The femur was lighter than Cataclysm had expected, but it served its purpose as a makeshift bludgeon well. He brought it down repeatedly on top of the skeleton’s skull, crushing it.
The other two undead capitalized on this opening and attempted to drive their spears into Cataclysm’s sides. He deftly sidestepped, using the femur to adjust the undead on his right’s spear up slightly, carrying it right into his ally’s skull, piercing it. The only surviving undead staggered back, preparing a second attack.
With a swiftness that would have made falcons jealous, Cataclysm swept the femur at the skeleton’s legs, taking them out. He then brought the femur down atop the skeleton’s arms, removing them, as well. The skeleton was still alive, however, just as Cataclysm had hoped.
He balanced the skeleton carefully and took aim with the femur. Cataclysm brought the bat behind his ear and swung as hard as he could at the skull. The skull came right off the neck and flew so far, the most steroids-enhanced Twigby players would have been proud.
Cataclysm dropped the femur and collapsed, leaning against the recently felled tree. All that fighting had tired him out, despite it occurring within two minutes, or perhaps because of that.
Still, Cataclysm stood and trudged onward, knowing the body of Master of Flames remained just over the nearby hill.
***************
The trio was shocked. They had never expected a warrior of this quality to have appeared. The first hundred undead had amused them - they were unaware of his skill with illusion magic. Even they were thrown off by the illusions, their scrying mage following the illusion.
Then he stumbled across the second hundred and expected his death. After the first couple dozen, it seemed inevitable. That was when he surprised them with that amazing display of speed and strength. No one in all of Lore at their time had such prodigious strength. It was amazing. They watched as he found the body and the backpack. Donning the backpack with one arm, they saw him easily fling the fully armored body, weighing in at least one hundred and fifty kilograms, over his shoulder.
The mage closed the scrying portal as they saw Cataclysm begin his trek back to camp.
“Did you see that?” the DoomKnight asked, awed by his display of combat prowess.
“That was something from legend!” the Guardian proclaimed. “His strength has to be at least twice my own. When he said he scares away the enemies on the battlefield, I thought he was jesting or exaggerating. Now I see it was the truth…”
The DragonLord just stared, his jaw hanging down, left speechless. With this Warrior, they had a chance against Sepulchure. If he could not defeat him, then no one could.
This Warrior was their new hope.
< Message edited by Teh Cataclysmic One -- 4/23/2012 20:31:14 >
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