9.
The doors leading into the holding cells had changed. Erak ran his fingers over the thick, iron wrought door, certain that the original door had been wood. Gregor, the Adjudicator, stepped through the crowd, apologizing for every stepped on foot or jostled soldier. His voice loud in the dark hall, the only sound other than the heavy breathing of fearful men.
“My lord, this door has changed.” Erak turned and looked down to where he assumed Gregor was. A flutter of irritation wormed through Erak as he rattled the lock door.
“Oh, my apologies. I think I have a key for it. Well, it used to be a swipe card. You know. The magnetic ones…ok, you don’t care. Found it!” Gregor’s babble ended as Erak heard the man moving, hands brushing against the door until he exclaimed in surprise.
“It works!” The door rushed open and dim orange light assaulted their eyes. Gray talons raked through Gregor’s neck in a spray of blood as a wall of monsters rushed out, free of the holding cells. Erak slammed the nearest one back, his shield shattering bone. His speared another, but there were scores of the spindly creatures.
Caster fire filled the hall and the monsters screamed, inhuman in pitch. Erak got a good look of the spitted one as he lifted it up and out of the crowd. The horde lacked the strength to cut his armor and they were dying in droves from Nevia’s platoon.
It was skeletal thin, flesh stretched tight over bone. Sunken hollows where eyes should be and a nose that was just a gaping cavity. Teeth snapped, rotten and black, while the creature’s long fingers scrambled over the shaft holding it in the air. Pale red blood ran out of it, dripping on the ground as Erak shook it like a terrier did a rat.
Ghoul lvl. 5
Erak dropped the dead ghoul to the ground and yanked the spear free. All around him the soldiers finished the monsters, Gregor the only casualty. Peering into the holding cells, Erak felt his eyebrows climb his brow. The modern architecture had been changed, the steel and plexiglass holding cells morphing as candelabras filled with eternal flames burned in the corners providing light to the newly minted dungeon.
“How interesting. Erak, would you be so kind as stop blocking the door?” Rutledge’s voice came from the back of the crowd and Erak found himself moving into the transformed room.
The cells were empty. Simple cages with their doors swinging wide open. A few dead Adjudicator’s lay sprawled in gnawed on pieces across the black stone floor. The troops shuffled in nervously behind him, their casters swinging back and forth while Nevia had drawn her blade.
Nevia Family Sword
Uncommon
Aside from the weapons at the museum, it was the first time Erak had seen a weapon that wasn’t common grade. Her sword was short and with a slight curve to it, a blue sheen in the steel that reflected darkly in the light. She held the blade with long familiarity, moving to the front to stand beside Erak as her men faltered.
“Lord Bloodsworn, I think the ghouls were men before. The prisoners.” She pointed to the open cages and Erak could only nod. Rutledge and Julius pushed their way to the font and quickly began to peer about and investigate. More so Rutledge than Julius. Julius appeared to be following in a mix of fear and morbid curiosity as Rutledge found a ghoul dead in a cell and began to prod at it with her cane.
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Erak nodded and began to move, looking for the signs Gregor had promised would lead the way. All he found was more of the reflective black stone and iron cages. The holding cells had turned into a warren of bars and dancing light. The platoon spread out while the Adjudicators, academics, and commissar stayed in the center of the sprawling room.
“The interior has definitely changed. Holding used to be a third of this size. Maybe even less.”
“Gregor died without a sound. Poor bastard, he was getting close to retirement, was going to go and get a farm out in the country.”
“Julius, why are you so green? Please, hand me that knife, I wish to see if the internals of the ghouls have changed as much as the exterior has. Julius?! Honestly. It’s dead, it can’t hurt you. Now help me eviscerate it.”
“Polroy, watch the exit. Constance, split into trios and find the damn exit. Everyone watch your lines of fire!” Nevia’s voice was impressive coming from such a small frame. Erak looked at her for the first time and read her title.
Imperial Officer lvl. 6
Erak began to think that his decision to cut through the Hall of Justice was going to backfire. The time it was taking to work through the building would have been better spent actually moving, even if it was going around the monstrous building and the block of burning buildings.
“Over here!” a voice rang from the opposite direction. All movement stopped as everyone turned to look through the iron bars to catch a glimpse of a waving hand.
“Excellent work, Flanders! Everyone move…” Nevia was cut off as the Flanders opened the door. Red flame burst through the door, Flanders and the two others with him disintegrating into shadow stains upon the floor as something big came charging through.
Erak cursed his limited visibility. The thin slit of the helm, the poor lighting, and the maze of bars showed him something big and armored. Caster fire brightened the room, bolts searing through the air. The rasp of metal on metal and then the sounds of men screaming filled the air.
Erak started to run, bouncing off of cages when he was to slow to turn, clanging from one to the next as he hurried to his next challenge. His spear tangled in a cage and it wrenched in his hand, shaking free. Nevia screamed a wordless battlecry and the sounds of swords striking teased his ears.
Cursing in his mind, he untangled the spear and turned, chasing through the maze the two dueling shapes. Nevia’s smaller form flashed in the gaps of the cages, uniform blending with the surroundings as her sword glinted as it wove a dizzying defense.
The thing after her lumbered, a greatsword hacking about, hitting cages more often than meeting Nevia’s sword. She was running out of room to dance as she was forced into a corner. Erak got a clear line of sight finally, only feet away as he finally saw what it was that had cut through the soldiers.
Corrupted Justicar lvl. 12
It was a hulking form, a mass of bloated flesh wedged into ill fitting armor. The sword it was wielding was an amalgamation of pieces of metal melted together, straining to stay together with every resounding clang.
Erak stabbed it in the back.
The rare grade spear parted steel like butter, emerging from its chest in a burst of foul blood. The creature stiffened, screaming in agony as it backhanded Erak, twisting on the spear and ripping more of itself open in the process. The blow rocked his head back, the world dimming and a ringing filling his ears as he staggered back. He left his spear wedged in the creature as he staggered back, finally catching himself when his back hit a cage.
Erak looked at the creature face to face for the first time as it began to lumber toward him. It was an Adjudicator. Or at least the scraps of a uniform hanging from its fleshy neck had been an Adjudicators. His spear was still protruding from its chest and red-black blood and yellow pus flowed from the gaping wound. Nevia was crouched, nearly hidden behind its bulk.
The Corrupted Justicar’s beady eyes were filled with madness and pain. Its features were warped and swollen, hardly recognizable as human. It snarled and snapped its teeth as it ran, monstrous sword trailing behind it as it charged Erak.