(Somehow Oppen Office thought it was funny to simply delete my chapters when I saved. Fucking shit already did that twice to me when I was working on my research paper!)
(Enjoy the chapter anyway!)
(First person)
I could feel the power surging through my bones, moving through my marrow and flooding into my very own fountain of strength.
I winced in pain as I felt the right side of my face flare up from a sudden burst of heat. The pain soon turned into delight as I felt sharp scales growing out from under my bones, boosting the defense of the already existing obsidian plates.
My skull started to slightly deform, a large horn grew out from my right temple and quickly after around the horn small spires emerged. The changes took mostly place on my right half, the side were I socketed the eye.
The changes were fast but for the one experiencing them, namely me, it felt like hours of nerve- racking pain. Slowly the transformation made its way towards my right arm.
The black bones were covered in a dark grey hue, my claws enlongated and became jagged, small spikes covered my knuckles and a sharp dagger like protusion grew forth from my elbow. I was decently content about the surge in power but how could that be the end?
I felt how the scales covering my arm started to cluster together, forming dense plates and layering on top of each other. My arm grew at least twice as thick, because my arm was quite thin to begin with it looked now like a normal humanoid limb – if we ignore the scales, sharp claws etc. –.
After the change I felt the increased weight of my body first hand, nearly making me fall to my knees as the heavy plate 'armor' on my arm and right flank robbed me of my balance.
With the increased weight I felt a sharp increase in power and defense, these scales were no laughing matter; not entirely as strong as the original but still worthy of the Stalag dragon.
My power rose instantly to, what I would estimate, Lord level of the earth realm; without an enemy to test my strength on it is rather hard to guess my own power correctly.
I glanced down at my newly formed arm. My hand looked indeed draconic in nature, thin scales on the palm and thick plates on the back. My claws directly grew out of my fingers, or rather, my claws and fingers were the same. (The claws do not grew out like nails, instead his fingers turned into claws, it was like that before as well but, uhhh... they are bigger now, and cooler...)
I closed my hands and tensed my arm muscles. I could hear the impatient elves, but their deaths could wait.
Despite the rise in thickness, studiness and weight my arm was still flexible and agile. I made the windmill with my arm, did a bit shadowboxing and to my surprise all movements felt as natural as before, only much, much stronger.
The scales on my hand rustled whenever I balled a fist, a slight downside for surprise attacks and such but nothing to bad.
I have to say, if I had a mirror I would look quite badass. I looked like some kind of dragon and skeleton warrior mix, my giant black and crimson wings only underlined my dread inspiring appearance.
PHEEEEW!
PING!
An arrow shot into my right side. I thought that at least a bit damage would be done, as the arrow was quite thick and had high velocity, but on the contrary. Not even a white mark remained when the arrow hit my scales, it only harmlessly bounced off.
The elf that shoot the arrow had a quite surprised expression as well. His arrow was precise and had a certain power behind it and yet it simply bounced off. The arrow was nothing more than a cheap wooden stick with a stone tip against my defense.
I slightly grinned. And this time my grin was even visible to the elves in front of me as I now had a human resembling half of a face, with a lot less features though.
Power was let loose within me, I wanted to feel the surge of power, the oncoming thrill of slaughter. I wanted to feel alive again.
The elves reacted quickly when the atmosphere around me changed. Those with heavy armor and tower shields stood at the front – creating a phalanx of gold and iron –. Behind them was a row of archers equipped with lighter leather armor and large massive long bows. Even further behind was a small group of eight with robes and crested staffs, mages. The asshole Nephyriem stood at the front. He only had light plate armor and his rapier equipped; as well as his smug ass smile.
I really wanted to kill that guy in particular.
Silara only kneeled on the ground somewhere off the battlefield. She had an exhausted expression and her body was bloody all over. I would take care of her after the main dish.
At my side laid Weiss. For an undead he really appeared dead at the moment, only stiffled breaths told me he was still alive. I grabbed on his leg stumps and threw him behind me. I only wanted to throw him a few meters but he somehow ended up being launched all the way against a tree nearly ten meters away.
On impact he coughed out a mouthful of blood. Really got to say sorry for that one later on.
A few of the elves even chuckled. Stupid bastards think that I am retarded and threw my comrade away like a sack potatoes.
Nephyriem only shurgged, shook his head and sighed. He was also thinking I was a fool.
I will show you how much of a fool I am...
“Are you prepared for death?“. I half whisper half threaten. My mouth leaked out a bit of saliva and dark mist as I talked.
As well as letting out a disgusting stench of death and corruption I unveiled part of my bloodlust.
It was a huge success!
All elves jerked up and their armors softly shook because of the trembling bodies beneath. I could feel my grin widen further, even without a mirror I could imagine my diabolic visage.
I spread my wings and shot out pillars of dark mist.
The elves reacted faster than Silara's companions. The first row of tanks raised up their shields to block the streams of darkness. Sadly for them the fog only scattered and started to enter a few of the knights that foolishly breathed in in surprise.
Blue veins started to bulge under the skin of those inflicted with my dark miasma. I could see their lush pink skin turn into a ghastly grey. Their bodies started to suddenly age, their lips shriveled and their faces wrinkled. They only watched in horror as their fingers turned into dead branches.
Some of them tried to rip their throat open or cut of the infected parts but because it was internally death was the only way out. But even death won't be their salvation.
One after another the first warriors fell. With their hands still clutching throats, limbs or other parts they died a futile death. Their shriveled faces were deformed in disbeleif and fear, a laughable sight.
Black mist rose out of the corpses but this time with each of the mist batches having a slight tinge of color to them, the different life essences of the elves. Their stolen time was reabsorbed by my giant wings, terror-stricken screams sounded out of the fog and sometimes human features appeared from within the darkness, I on the other hand only laughed quietly as I absorbed their life essence.
Nephyriem was the first one to shield himself with wind magic against the rivers of deadly darkness.
His face had an expression of false sadness as he looked down upon his dead comrades. “You vile creature dared to kill my brothers! I wanted to make your death quick and painless but you give me no other choice... Magicians use wind magic to protect your brothers. Archers nook your bows. Warriors, FORWARD!“. Using the death of his comrades to boost the mentatlity of the survivors was a smart idea even in my eyes.
(3rd person)
Because the first archer had proven the defense of Ziihor's right ironclad flank to the group the other archers focused their fire on his left side, the unprotected skeletal side.
The first salve of arrows lodged themselves into Ziihor's unprotected bones. The bones splittered and send small black fragments everywhere.
A second salve was shoot right after the first one; this one aiming higher, at his skull and chest region.
The reason why the arrows could hit Ziihor's bones was because they were abnormally thick, making them easier to hit.
Salve after salve of whistling arrows pierced through the air. The sky was covered in the densely clustered projectiles while the ground shook under the feet of the heavy armored knights. With thin barriers of wind protecting them the warriors sprinted towards Ziihor.
They covered the few dozens of meters in only a few seconds. Their heavy plate armors clattered in sync and made them appear like a single whole. A wall of iron.
Ziihor dragged his heavy right arm over the ground, giving the illusion of immobility. The first warrior that sperated from the group sprang with a powerful kick to the ground towards Ziihor. Iron shield and a broadsword in hand the knight opted for a preemptiv shieldbash to disrupt Ziihor's already half broken stance.
The shield smashed into Ziihor like a falling star and yet it didn't even made him move an inch. The shield was stopped by Ziihor's titanic right arm. Ziihor's claw clutched onto the shield like a vice, not budging a single millimeter.
A feeling of dread crept over the elf, he knew if he couldn't break free from the demon's clutches then he would most certainly find his early grave here.
The elf let go of his own shield and raised the braodsword with two hands over his head. The following vertical slash split open the air and created a high pitched whistle.
CLINCK!
With eyes buldged out and an expression of utter shock on his face the elf looked disbelievingly at the small cut he made with his 97 pound broadsword. It was certainly only a minuscle cut, barely visible to the naked eye and yet it made Ziihor furious.
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He was wounded by such a toy sword!? Unbelievable.
Ziihor grabbed onto the sword and ignored the few arrows that were still shooting towards him. Applying a bit of pressure onto his claw it smoothly crushed the sword into fine iron dust.
Fat drops of sweat were running down the elf's face, he didn't wanted to believe what had just transpired and will transpire. He refused to believe in the giant grey-silver claw that was rushing towards his face and would certainly kill him. He refused to believe that the disgusting feces in his pants were leaked by him. He refused to believe that his head was seperated from his shoulders...
Another warrior had died just like that and the subtle note of cold sweat and feces that were secreted by the recently dead elf only emphasized the loming terror.
The row of knights mometarily halted. They too feared for their lives.
“MEN! What are you doing?! He is alone, how can we fear him with our combined strength? March forward!“. Nephyriem who now stood inbetween the warriors started to raise the morale again. After contemplating for a while all knights thought he was right. They numbered nearly in the hundreds, how could they lose?
Oh, they erred.
Another salve of arrows came whistling down on Ziihor. This time he dodged them though.
The reason was evident as Ziihor glanced at the spots where the arrows landed on. Instead of only boring a simple hole, the newly shot arrows sank deep into the ground adn even created small craters.
Ziihor glanced at the next wave of arrows. Whenever achieved the right trajectory a seemingly random gust of wind would accelerate the arrows to a disgustingly high speed.
The harmless arrows turned into sonic fast projectiles.
With only a quick glance Ziihor could faintly see the shapes of the magicians and how they were raising their staffs high up in the air.
'Fucking nuisances'.
Ziihor lifted his arm high up in the air. He quickly swiped down. It was only a simple movement and yet it held unimaginable strength.
His grey claw cut through the air and blurred into an acromatic lightning. The created riples in the air turned into small vortexes, thus creating a small protective wind barrier in front of Ziihor.
The arrows slowed down considerably but the major difference was their trajectory. The small vortexes of wind redirected the arrows away from Ziihor while slowing them down.
With elegant movements Ziihor dodged each of the arrows and when they did come to close he would simply block them with his right claw, it did risk a few scratches on his plated arm but those damages were neglible.
The elves circled around Ziihor, each one aiming for a different spot on his body. Some of them even poked his wings with their longswords or pikes.
Ziihor could only laugh about their weak attacks. Heavy blunt weaponary was easily dodged so that no harm could be done to his body.
Two elves stood in Ziihor's attack range and after a flash of grey they suddenly stopped moving. Out of the corners of their eyes the other elves observed the current state of the two. With horror clearly visible in their faces the elves had to watch as their comrades two heads slid down from their shoulders. Time seemed to slow down as their heads rolled on the ground, splattering the ground in red.
Their bodies stood still – like statues –, the nerves were late in registering the absence of a head.
After a few seconds the bodies collapsed to the ground, another surge of fresh blood bubbled out of their cut throats.
The elves realized how stupid the idea of a melee with this devil was. Ziihor's enahnced arm cut thrugh their steel armor like a hot knife through butter and his physical strength was beyond their capabilities. They saw how their comrades were easily slaughtered so the thought of renegading wasn't afar. But with their captain being with them, although behind the frontlines, how could they give up? This monster would surely attack their settlements and ravish their families and friends, wouldn't it?
So instead of giving in into their fear they continued their assaults and Ziihor continued his bloody carnage.
Between the many elves there were some very proficient ones that lasted a few minutes against Ziihor.
The first one was an elf with two short amber daggers. His movements were swift and lethal, always aiming at Ziihor's unprotected left flank or legs to immobilize him. His daggers turned into a yellow storm as before Ziihor's eyes. The movements were to fast and combined with a few feints inbetween he really got some good hits on Ziihor.
Another problem were the elf's hidden weapons. When Ziihor blocked a backhanded strike a boot with a blade attached to it slammed against his left temple. The blade dug deep into Ziihor's empty skull and luckily didn't do much damage against an undead.
It was a good strike but fatal for the elf as he couldn't fre his foot from the skull. Ziihor snapped his leg intwine with a simple handmovement and then beheaded him like the other elves.
The second elf that put up a fight was a rugged female with mace and shield, honestly she looked somehow like a man. Whenever she struck she would enhance the mace with wind magic, making it strike like thunder. Her magic wasn't strong but by using it at the perfect moments she could fully display her power.
Even Ziihor's right side couldn't fully defend against the spiked mace. Some of his plates started to show slight cracks.
Infuriated Ziihor slashed down with full force, the slash was nimbly evaded. But the slash wasn't aimed at the warrioress but rather at the ground.
BOOM!
The earth split apart under the heavy force. The rumbling earth made the elves lose their balance and the female warrior was no exception. She landed on her butt and before she could react a giant claw clenched her throat.
Her mace flailed against Ziihor but with her declining reserves of oxygen her movements slowed down until they stopped completely.
Ziihor threw the woman against the ground and kicked her sides with full force. She was sent flying against the other elves. Her body was bent into a weird shape and the fire of life in her eyes extinguished.
There were many other figures that fought Ziihor but all of them perished, some had a merciful death while others were turned into lifeless husks.
The ground was devasted, all over cracks spread like spider webs. Some of the unlucky elves fell into the crevices and were burried under their falling comrades or simply squished into a bloody pulp when a boulder came crashing down.
Robes and plate armor littered the ground, mages, archers, warriors, all of them died. Under Ziihor's newfound strength they simply posed no threat anymore.
Their attacks were weak and had no resolve. The fear dulled their blades.
(First person)
I stood in front of a kneeling Nephyriem. His pants were tainted in a light yellow and an immense stench wafted out from within. I wanted to puke but sadly I couldn't, hadn't eaten much in days.
Streaks of sweaty hair glued onto his face, his eyes were red and tears flooded out continously. His nose was dripping with snot.
He tried to beg for mercy, tried to apologize and whatnot. I only wanted to kill that smug bastard.
Over the whole fight he never drew his weapon and only commanded his troops into their deaths, even I felt a bit of pity for them. To have such a moronic captain, tsk tsk.
I would do the elves a great deed in simply disposin off of him.
My claw was raised into the air, each of my talons glittering like beautiful crescents. The scytes of the grim reaper went down on the miserable creature in front of me.
He screeched in terror and tried to scramble away from my claw.
I accelerated my claw even further, gravity did a good deal of amplifying my power.
The talons cut the air apart and sliced down unto the ground. In that moment I felt a sharp pain in my left 'eye'. The trajectory of my claws was averted to the side, cutting through the right thigh of the screaming Nephyriem.
I felt a sooting warmth covering my claw, the blood was calming or rather it satisfied my roaring animalistic desires.
I looked to my side and saw one of the elves still being alive and breathing. He had nooked an arrow into a random bow that laid on the ground. The arrow was covered in the blue tincture that was used by the earlier elves.
I could feel how a freezing sensation started to spread from my 'eye'. The ice encased the left side of my head but this time I simply smashed it apart with my armored fist.
My eye glowed in a brighter purple than usual with a dark red nuance. I felt fury and hatred burn inside me.
Before my fury exploded I heard a rustling sound from my side. The elf Nephyriem was nowhere to be seen anymore, only a red trail that led into the forest.
'FUCK!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!'. I cursed in my mind. MY PREY! I LOST MY PREY!
“He! Hehehe! You devil, just wait until the elders come!“. The other elf sneered to me. His eyes were filled with arrogance.
“Hohohohoo... Thank God that you are still alive...“. I let out the deepest voice I could muster and turned my body to the elf. My steps were heavy and shook the ground. I approached the elf with spread wings and burning eyes.
His pupils contracted into dots and a goosebumps went over his body.
“Ohhhh... I will have my fun with you!“. I growled while closing in on the elf.