A single strike of Redmane's claw was enough to smash a knight's shield into scraps.

The knight slashed toward Redmane's face and he raised his forearm to block, felt the blade bite through skin but thunk against the hardened bones in his forearm as if it had encountered a steel bracer.

His grin widened.

Redmane grabbed the knight with both hands, one on the left shoulder, the other on the inside of his right arm. Then he headbutted him, hard enough to bloody his own nose and dent the knight's faceplate in.

The knight dropped his sword and staggered back, clutching his helmet, trying to pull it off. Anguished groaning came from within it. Understandable. The face underneath was likely concave now.

His comrade to the left wasted no time rushing in to provide a distraction. His sword flashed in the candlelight, thrusting and cleaving the air as Redmane dodged this way and that. It seemed the Charm of St. Alexia was worth wearing. He could feel it in the sharpness of his perception most of all, a subtle sense of knowing where that sword was going to strike next. It didn't evade for him, the enchantment simply gave his primal brain a useful warning beforehand.

It was fun. A joy to feel the magic in sync with his mind. And to notice the frustrated grunts of the knight trying to chase him.

He tried to press Redmane with his shield, hide the point of his blade behind it and then sneak a thrust in with a subtle change of position. Redmane let him. The knight ran him through, gasping with exultation.

Until ten claws dug into his armor, punching through it as if it were a maiden's linens.

The knight stiffened, cried out in pain. The scent of blood made Redmane's lip curl, drew him closer to the source instinctively.

After the killing bite, one could see a cross section of the knight's helmet, hairline, skull, brain, face and throat.

It would be a shame to make a mess of the rugs, but there was no helping it. Redmane crouched over his kills and had a hasty meal.

Level Up

Level 16 --> Level 17

Quality Points awaiting allocation: 1

Corpus: 1624

He'd hoped these fine arms and armor would get him close to another point, but alas, it wasn't enough. As for the point, he put it in Might again. Best to trust in strength.

Might 16 —> 17

Beyond this foyer lay the Lord's audience chamber and the great hall. Redmane checked the former, found it empty, and proceeded. The great hall was where the Lord would spend most of his time anyway. It was where announcements were made to the smallfolk, where feasting and revelry took place, where he held council with his knights and important retainers, merchants, farmers and freemen of all stripes.

It was an expansive room with high ceilings. Huge tapestries covered the walls on the left and right, depicting the history of the Morholts. Three elkhorn chandeliers hung in a row over a long banquet table, and at the end of the hall, at the head of the table, sat the Lord's chair.

With the Lord sitting in it.

Lord Abrahm Morholt

Monster Type: Corrupted

Level 20

Abrahm Morholt looked different than when he'd last seen him, but so did everyone. Including himself.

He didn’t look so senile anymore.

The Lord had grown in stature, beyond even the image of him in the days when he was at the peak of his fighting strength, which were depicted on the wall behind him in portrait form. Plates of bestial muscle stretched out his tunic. His hairline was still receding but his face was hairier, had pointed, feral features and the gleam of red eyes. He wore a fine red cloak trimmed with a mantle of black bear fur and clasped in front with a thick gold chain. At his flanks stood four more Beastman Knight Captains, silently guarding Lord Morholt while he ate his supper.

Redmane glanced at his plate. There were grapes, a hunk of bread, an eyeball, a few human fingers and a raw, half eaten heart.

Lord Morholt paused to suck the blood off of one of his fingers and sip from his goblet, which was full of either red wine or blood, he couldn't tell which. Morholt gave Redmane a glance and a grin as he entered the hall.

"Little Redcap," he said, as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Welcome. How you've grown..."

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Hearing that voice again made Redmane snarl.

He walked toward the Lord, as calmly as he could, though his face betrayed the wrath boiling in his guts. It didn't seem to bother Lord Morholt in the least, his grin widened and he gestured at the seat next to him.

"Hunrgy?" he asked. "There is food aplenty in my hall, but you knew that. After all, I've kept you fed for many a year, haven't I."

"You kept me chained."

Lord Morholt's lip curled as he licked a bit of gristle off one of his canine teeth. Some of the mirth left his expression.

"For your own good. But I don't expect you'd understand. Not that it would matter, you’ve slipped your leash. I expect my fool nephew had something to do with it.”

"I haven't come for an explanation," said Redmane. "I've come to slay you and devour your corpse."

Morholt let out a wicked laugh. He nodded. "Aye, that's what I speak of."

The Lord rose from his chair and grasped the long handle of his two-headed battle axe. He casually rested it against his shoulder as he rounded the corner of the table and sauntered toward Redmane as if he were going for a leisurely stroll. The four knight captains behind him silently followed, in two ranks of two.

"You don't understand any of this, do you," said the Lord.

"Only what I need to," said Redmane. "That you're about to get what you deserve."

"What I deserve?" Morholt laughed, a big belly laugh. "I kept you safe! Put food in that bottomless pit you call a stomach! I deserve a show of thanks for what I've done for you. I deserve you down on a knee, swearing loyalty to your gracious Lord."

The fire in Redmane’s chest swelled.

“You and your nephew deserve everything you inflicted on me, with an extra helping,” he said.

But then the Lord's smile darkened. He gripped the handle of his axe tighter. With intent.

"You don't even know what you deserve,” Morholt said. “Well I'll tell you. You deserve torture. You deserve anguish, and despair, and sorrow, suffering until the end of days. You deserve so much more than a cell and a chain and a muzzle. Oh if only I had the power to give it to you... Perhaps I do now..."

Redmane set his jaw. He'd heard enough.

He growled and leapt in with the swiftness of a wolf.

The four knights behind Morholt opened ranks, fanning out to encircle Redmane. The Lord himself smirked and brought his axe to bear, striking downward, a blow that would swat Redmane right out of the air and cleave him in two if he didn't change course.

He had to stop short, let the great blade of that axe slice through the air in front of his face, and lunge in again.

Then the knights harried him, swords thrusting in from four angles while the mighty axe of Morholt whirled about, glinting in the light, and struck again. The Charm of St. Alexia kept him alive. There was nowhere to run to already. He had to duck and weave around a storm of blades right where he stood. They'd bested him with a simple, well practiced strategy.

But the dance had only begun.

Redmane ducked under a horizontal swipe of a sword and hit the floor face first, on purpose. Dropping with such speed he appeared to vanish for a moment. There were five sets of ankles down here. Redmane picked the one right on front of him, struck out with a claw, and the owner of that ankle yelled in pain as he slashed through steel, flesh and tendon. The knight tried to backpedal, stumbled and fell against the wall behind him.

Another cage broken open.

He leapt from confinement, circled around and clawed another knight across the faceplate on his way by. There was a spray of blood as he whooshed past, and that knight also staggered and broke formation.

Now they had to chase him. Try to trap him again, only with two less men. Redmane retreated, batting aside sword thrusts with his claws, watchful for an opportunity to deal lethal damage while keeping on the move, Lord Morholt casually advancing behind them with a wry smile on his bestial face. The great hall was an oblong room with a table dividing it in two, so the only ways to go were forward and back, unless he wanted to jump across to the other side of the table and flee.

Which wouldn't happen, under any circumstance. Redmane would slay these men and their Lord or be slain himself.

The knight captains weren't taking any chances with him. They made no daring moves. For the most part they stayed behind their raised shields, swords thrusting out to harass Redmane's attempts to strike at them. He realized he'd have to be the bold one. Which was fine with him. He found he preferred it.

Redmane charged right at them, heedless of the points of two swords darting out in unison. They bit into his flesh and he struck their shields in return, one hand on each, his claws digging into the metal so he could pull back violently, ripping them away from their owners. The knight on the left had luck on his side, the leather straps securing his shield ripped free. The one on the right wasn't so fortunate. His straps held on for the first tug, which broke his arm. The second tug made him wail in pain as Redmane tossed both of their shields aside.

They stabbed him two times each while he was doing this.

And then, even with one man grievously injured, they stepped aside in either direction with practiced speed and Lord Morholt came down on Redmane with an overhead blow that cleaved right between his neck and shoulder. The impact almost buckled his knees. The blast of pain was breathtaking.

Corpus: 854

Oh.

That wasn't good either.

All that armor he'd gained, only to be carved like a turkey. Redmane's blood went cold for a moment, considering how much it worse it might have been had he not been able to raise it.

Morholt pulled his axe free to ready another blow, a sideways swipe that would have cleanly struck Redmane's head from his shoulders had he not hopped backward from it at the last possible instant.

"You don't even know who you are," said Morholt. "You don't know what you are, or what you've done, or why you're here, or what you're truly capable of."

That axe flashed by again, too close. Redmane's heart sped up, his face slick with blood and sweat.

"You don't even understand how merciful I really am," said Morholt, with a caustic laugh.

Redmane reached the end of the room. To his right, a corner. To his left, more space to evade. Morholt knew it too, cut him off with a leap over the corner of the table and a short chop to the gut with that axe. Redmane coughed up blood and staggered back, truly cornered this time, the one remaining knight closing in to assist his Lord in the kill.

Corpus: 201

"Now it falls to us, as it ever has, to put you back in that little shit hole where you belong."

Blood tinged Redmane's vision. He saw a tunnel of red, and things that must die at its far end, and nothing else.

He bared his bloodied teeth in defiance.

"No!"