Post by Monday
((Note. I made a Stormcross omnibus, then realized that I had a thread
already together to collect my fanfics. I will link that every time now, expect new fics to be edited in.))
Korsin, Gorgron and Elsoris had suited up, and put on masks, ominous looking black leather things that made them look like insects. Avery stood unconcerned, surrounded by a faint glow of the Light. Black Walker started clanking as it walked on stone, cracked and worn.
“We’re in the city now,” Korsin said, gazing out the window with a faraway look in his eyes. “They’re coming.” Gorgron glanced uneasily around. The city was gloomy, murky and foggy. Twisted halls, warped from dark magic and filled with toxic gasses, faded into the distance.
Elrois had his bow out, knocked and ready. He heard something in the shadows, turned, let fly, and watched in amazement as his arrow disintegrated in midair. “There’s something out there…” he called down. Gorgron walked up to stand next to the elf. “There are many things. Let us see what is there. Air, hear my plea…”
A gust of wind blew into the area and wafted away the poison. There, in the shadows, were dwarves. Hundreds of them, mutated beyond recognition. “Fire!” yelled Elsoris, and Korsin slammed on the autotarget button. Immediately Black Walker opened fire, mowing down dozens of dwarves in seconds.
Gorgron pleaded with the elements, and Fire answered his call. In a rage of the Shamans, he started hurling bursts of fire left and right, incinerating scores in moments. The mutants had enough, and turned, fleeing. Gorgron smirked underneath his mask as they fled.
Korsin guided the walker past the corpses littering the ground, and pressed into what was formerly the Military Ward. “We want to keep out of the Mystic Ward for the time being. We need to get to the vents in the Great Forge and open them, ridding the mountain of the gas, and letting in light.”
Gorgron turned a curious eye to the dwarf. “Light? Why?” Avery spoke, saying, “The beings here are creatures of darkness. Their home is dark, stinking and evil, like this mountain is now. If we can free the mountain of gas and bring in light, it will weaken them to the point where I can shut the portal.”
Gorgron paused, considering this, while Black Walker lumbered into the Great Forge. They couldn’t see for more than three or four feet ahead, and often Korsin had to jerk the walker away from an untimely end in the bottom of a huge pit of iron.
The path dropped off steeply to either side. Noxious gasses and lack of repair had turned the symbol of dwarven might into a disturbing maze of hanging machines and sudden pitfalls. “The vents are just ahead…” called Korsin, as they neared the Great Anvil.
Korsin stopped the walker and placed a hand on the anvil, tears gathering unbidden to his eyes. A slight sound caused him to jerk his head up. There, standing thirty feet away, was a Dreadlord.
“Demon!” yelled Korsin, backing into the walker and slamming the door shut, sprinting to the deck. Gorgron snarled at the demon, lifting his mace threateningly.
“Greetings, mortals. I… am Vas’karaz.”