Wurmdring scowled as he struggled to maintain the bindings on the Outworlder, drawing on Foundation to such a degree that he was at risk of Singeing himself. The Light Whips were doing good damage though, he could not let up now, not when he was so close to smiting the evil from New Romai! His fanged teeth clenched as he re-doubled his efforts, feeling the monster strain against the power of his magic.
Wurmdring couldn't believe that any human, Outworlder or not, would have been able to stand up against him. Yet, it was clear that this beast was no mere mortal, from what he'd learned, human blood was not too different from dwarven blood, this thing's essence was hot, glowed a deep umber, and had seared the flesh from his fingertips. He would not be drinking of the corpse, there was no telling what would happen to Wurmdring's body if he did.
The Light Whips carved their way all the way to the bone, eliciting a satisfying scream from the Outworlder. Wurmdring couldn't help but laugh as he saw its eyes grow glassy, the telltale sign of his victory! It was right then that he heard the door behind him slide open, a group of twenty armed dwarves and three Fanged Guards moving to surround Hoplite.
"You defeated him, Lord Wurmdring!" He heard one Fanged Guard shout, "Glory to our captain!"
"Celebrate later, finish the thing now!" Wurmdring shouted as he felt the Outworlder's efforts restart.
Hoplite thrashed violently now, teeth clacking together as he lunged for the nearest dwarf, receiving a shotgun slug to the head for his efforts. The other surrounding dwarves followed suit, unleashing a hail of bullets into the Outworlder, perforating it from head to toe. Unsettlingly, not a single round nor slug managed to puncture the pitch-black bones of Hoplite. The three other vampires bore down on the man, casting spells of acid and fire upon the dark skeleton before them. Barely any flesh remained, revealing massive portions of the man's skeletal structure. Wurmdring was shocked to see that its spine was coated in steel, with some sort of red wiring spreading from it to wrap across the rest of Hoplite's bones.
Any living creature, or dead for that matter, should have died from these fatal wounds, yet Wurmdring was unsettled as he realized that the beast was only growing stronger, more desperate the more injured it became. The skin was practically stripped from the bone, revealing only the organs packed within Hoplite's ribcage.The dwarves attacking it only served to infuriate the beast, rather than slow it down. It grew more violent, more uncontrollable, pushing Wurmdring to his absolute limit until finally, his grasp on Foundation slipped.
Wurmdring's bindings snapped, and the monster was freed, charging on all fours at the nearest vampire. The obsidian skeleton was a blur, too fast for even Wurmdring to see. Hoplite, to Wurmdring's horror, then grabbed up the Fanged Guard by the shoulders, crushing the armor and flesh both beneath skeletonized hands before sinking its teeth straight into the vampire's skull. The dwarf twitched as the sickening sound of crunching bone sounded from Hoplite's mouth, leaving the gathered dwarves stunned- all save for Wurmdring, who summoned up new Light Whips, tripilling their thickness before he lashed them toward the Outworlder with a snarl.
What manner of demon would do something so foul, so perverse!? Bullets penetrated the human's flesh, the shouts of angered dwarves muffled by the noise. Hoplite dropped the body with a snarl, turning toward the gathered dwarves, revealing that his once Golden Eyes had turned to solid black. His flesh was sealing over now, the regeneration leaving Hoplite a bony wretch compared to the mountain of muscle that he'd been before.
Then it shrieked, jaw seeming to unhinge before it ducked beneath Wurmdring's light whips. Tossing the disabled Fanged Guard straight at Wurmdring with an animalistic cry. Wurmdring cursed as he caught his comrade, crashing back into the steel door again as Hoplite charged its next victim. A glance revealed that the monster had bitten straight through the dwarf's skull, exposing quickly healing brain matter. He'd eaten the entire upper portion of the face, like he'd been taking a bite from a fungapple.
Wurmdring dropped the dwarf, knowing that he would regenerate the damage in time. There was no time to administer aide, he had to protect everyone else from the demon before them now. Hoplite's hands tore straight through the plate armor of a mortal dwarf, pulling out organs before promptly scarfing them down whole, leaving its face caked with blood.
It barely even seemed to notice the hail of bullets assailing it, indeed all the projectiles did was make the animal more crazed, for it ran through the gunfire to claim more victims, pulling apart limbs and guts before taking in gory fistfuls in sickening gulps. Wurmdring felt slower than a slug in comparison, it fed upon his kindred at a speed he'd scarcely ever seen before in his millenia of life.
"Cease fire, move back!" He ordered as he closed in, nails poised to pierce Hoplite's flesh.
A mutation of his, the blackened fingernails he possessed were similar to the fangs of a snake, secreting a fatal poison if it made contact. It hadn't killed Hoplite before, but the poison had at least stunned it at least. If he could slow down this animal, that may give them enough time to slay it.
Hoplite somehow managed to slide away from the blow however, countering with a bite aimed for Wurmdring's hand. He tried to pull it away, but the monster's teeth suck into his hand, sending piercing pain up his arm. Hoplite then began to shake his head like a dog with a cat in its jaws, whipping Wurmdring back and forth violently before finally, the hand came loose, sending Wurmdring flying away. He crashed headfirst into the wall, a wave of dizziness making him unsure as to where his own legs were.
His eyes widened in horror as he saw Hoplite charge the remaining dwarves, Fanged Guard and mortals both. Armed with the best dwarven smiths could craft, vampires of well over a hundred years old, mortals with fully automatic rifles- none of it mattered. Hoplite tore through them violently, pulling apart limbs, ripping out throats with bloodied teeth, shoveling down lungs, intestines, hearts, whatever it could fit in its wretched bowels.
Blood completely covered the monster's skin now, turning it from white to crimson. Some of the gold returned to its eyes, but it was clearly still in a state of sheer madness, shrieking as it continued to pull apart its victims. The final vampire's eyes met Wurmdring's as Hoplite placed a foot on his back, grabbing both sides of his head before violently wrenching the head up out of the body, spine and all. Wurmdring struggled to rise to his feet, outraged by this curse that had been beset upon them by the cowardly Pillar-Gods. There has been nothing but tragedy ever since these outsiders were allowed into New Romai… who else but the 'gods' would orchestrate this?
The Genocider himself must have been behind this, to destroy the last pure dwarves on Ahkoolis forever…
Wurmdring would not allow it, this would not pass. Romai would reign forever! He snarled, fists clenching as Hoplite turned its head toward him, gore-strewn teeth clenched in a rictus of rage. It had slaughtered the dwarves that had come to assist Wurmdring in the short time he'd been regenerating, a horrifyingly fast feat, so he would need to be faster. He'd not thought he'd need Haste so soon, but Lord Telegad himself had told him that he'd soon have authorization to use it. It was breaking the law, not to wait for express permission to use new spells, but it was kill or be killed right now. Hopefully Lord Telegad would understand…
He drew Foundation, his Tell manifesting as a purple glow from his eyes. The floor was an ocean of blood now, shifting as the two ran at one another, moving at speeds none would be able to perceive. The sea of blood parted at the speed of their approach, sending miniature tidal-waves across the ground. Wurmdring's hand hadn't fully regenerated yet, only the bones had reformed thus far, meaning he'd have to favor his left hand for this encounter.
Hoplite shrieked as its massive hands sought to grab Wurmdring, but he anticipated this, rolling between its legs and leaving it swiping at only air. He twisted as soon as he was at his feet, poising his nails to strike. Hoplite was a wild beast now, there were clearly no coherent thoughts left in its head, meaning that Wurmdring could more easily predict what the thing would do.
He jumped as the monster whirled with a kick, seeking to decapitate Wurmdring with its shin. The vampire barely cleared the blow, retaliating with a kick of his own. Wurmdring's foot collided with Hoplite's jaw as he was mid-air, knocking it's head sideways and sending it stumbling. He clenched his teeth as landed, thrusting his nails toward Hoplite's inner-thigh.
Hoplite, cursed creature, immediately retaliated, grabbing the hand in one of his own. At first, Wurmdring smiled, feeling his nails sinking deeply into Hoplite's palm. Then he felt his bones begin to squeeze together, eliciting a cry of anguish from the vampire. Hoplite then snapped Wurmdring's arm at the elbow, twisting him to the ground in the process with a snarl. His head smashed against the ground hard, cracking the concrete before splitting his flesh open.
Hoplite then placed a foot on the back of Wurmdring's head before it began tugging his arm up violently, tearing the limb free along with the sleeve of his plate mail. Wurmdring rolled away with a pained scowl, coming up to his knee only to witness Hoplite pulling the limb completely free of the armor. It was as if he were pulling the meat free from the arm of a cave crab, tossing the armor aside before devouring the arm in massive mouthfuls.
Wurmdring's grasp on Foundation was floundering again, he was growing exhausted, near to burning himself out… if he wanted to defeat this creature, then he would need to do something drastic. May the Long Lords forgive him for what needed to be done… Wurmdring stood as Hoplite consumed his arm, using his now-fully regrown hand to gesture at the pool of blood surrounding him. The blood obeyed his command, streams rising from the crimson sea before floating directly to his mouth. He needed to accelerate his growth to defeat Hoplite, if that required breaking the Long Lord's law, then so be it. He would accept whatever punishment they deigned to give him after vengeance was wreaked upon the Outworlder.
The blood of his fellow dwarves sped down his gullet, the streams speeding through the air in spirals. Thankfully, the poison seemed to be working on Hoplite, the veins up its arm turning black and forcing it down to its knees. The blackness from Hoplite's eyes was gone now, its musculature returned to its former state… a boone and a curse that its madness has subsided. Hoplite looked almost confused, blinking before dropping the half-eaten remains of Wurmdring's arm.
It clutched it's hand as the poison raced up its arm, but the thing's veins sunk inward once again, twitching before it spat out a black glob into the sea of blood surrounding them. As this happened, Wurmdring finished drawing the blood of his comrades within himself. He felt powerful, stronger than he ever had been before. Overfeeding was dangerous, but it greatly expedited his growing power. The Long Lords had forbode any vampire from doing such a thing, having told them long ago that doing such a thing would reduce the Romai population to a dangerously low level.
Wurmdring however, understood the truth of it. The Long Lords did not want any challengers for their thrones. Hoplite stood to its feet as Wurmdring's arm finished re-growing, the skin only barely forming over the new muscle. He was beyond Hoplite now, far beyond… this battle would end now.
He scowled, his eyes flashing purple before he drew Foundation, summoning forth his Light Whips. Hoplite stumbled, but remained upright, focusing on Wurmdring with its golden eyes. Hoplite vanished again, but Wurmdring would not allow it. Building the House of Kyria, he drove a wedge between Hoplite's flow and the House it had built, disrupting the invisibility.
Hoplite, instead of charging Wurmdring as he'd expected, seemed to hesitate, apparently reevaluating its situation in an instant before promptly turning on its heel, sprinting for the open door of the workshop. Wurmdring hissed at the creature's cowardice, if it had still been maddened, it never would have fled from him. Nonetheless, Hoplite would not escape! Wurmdring channeled Foundation, the veins on his temples popping as he simultaneously casted Haste along with summoning his Light Whips, each strand now as thick as his arm.
Foundation filled him near to bursting, he felt alive, mighty, stronger than anything living or dead! He flung his whips forward, the purple light wrapping around Hoplite's neck before it could leave the room. Wurmdring then tugged, the whips becoming taut before Hoplite was sent flying backwards, hands sizzling as it grabbed at the whips around its throat. Wurmdring grinned devilishly as it was dragged through the sea of blood kicking and screaming toward him, the other Light Whips enwrapping it in its entirety.
With how strong Wurmdring had become, there would be no escape for Hoplite now. He'd burn the flesh from his bones, until there was nothing left for it to regrow from! Hoplite struggled violently, bouncing off the ground as it was pulled closer and closer to Wurmdring. He shortened the whips, thickening them before leaving Hoplite to struggle more as its skin was fried off the bone. Wurmdring couldn't help but laugh in his triumph! With this newfound power he could do anything, slay anyone-
His eyes widened then, realization hitting him. This had to be another reason why overfeeding was not allowed by the Long Lords… it filled the vampire committing the act with arrogance. There was a reason that Wurmdring had lasted longer than all the Fanged Guard that had come before him, with age came arrogance… same with power. He could not let this go to his head, or he would think himself worthy of the Long Lord's thrones. He would never betray them, no matter how strong he became, he'd not let arrogance be his downfall, like his predecessors.
His thoughts were interrupted as he saw a stream of dark orange blood seeping from Hoplite's wriggling form. He found himself licking his fangs as the smell of it reached him. He had wrote it off as toxic earlier… but that scent, oh… Wurmdring shook his head, trying to clear the sudden temptation from his thoughts… but it failed. The blood smelled sharp, like spiced mead, before he could stop himself, Wurmdring began pulling the streams of umber blood towards his mouth, the streams rising from the sea of crimson surrounding it.
He attempted to reason with himself, to deny the temptation, but his body refused to listen to his commands. He'd not been interested in it earlier, why now did he desire it so? This must have been the result of the overfeeding, he realized. As soon as it touched his tongue, Wurmdring shuddered. It was hot like boiling water, but the flavor was unlike anything he'd ever experienced in his entire existence. It was as if hundreds of different types of blood existed within Hoplite, a cornucopia of tastes. Spicy, sweet, bitter, and sour, all these things at once, yet none conflicting.
He needed more.
Wurmdring pulled the blood further, letting it roll over his tongue before finally, he swallowed it. His entire body tensed, his grasp on Foundation floundering for an instant. He began coughing violently, bloody tears rolling down his cheeks as his body began to spasm. Choking, he fell to his knees, struggling to keep his whips stable. He could no longer maintain Haste, but his Light Whips remained strong. He began convulsing violently, his eyes burning as he felt something within him begin to churn, to change.
The Flame began to fizzle out as the churning intensified, his Light Whips thinning as he continued to shake. His vision blurred as Foundation finally left him, his hands sinking into the bloody sea as he braced himself on all fours. The Light Whips dissipated, but Hoplite's attack never came. Wurmdring slowly raised his head, seeing the monster disappearing out of the workshop… screaming as he went.
Wurmdring could not give chase, his head sinking low to stare at his own reflection in the bloody sea. His eyes widened as he realized that they had turned to a shade of bright gold.