Reflected within the purple hues of his eyes were eight bloated humps, around which stood hunched, purplish beings. Then there was the ninth hump with four infants clinging to the bulbous milk sacs hanging off its chest. He had his guesses regarding the uniqueness of this Womb, the scene before him only served to confirm his thoughts. This Womb was different.
Whilst the other eight had ten milk sacs and were constantly letting out unintelligible ravings, the variant only had four and had a glimmer of intelligence in its eyes. What interested the First Priest the most was the Womb's insistence that it be called Emilia, which was likely its name from its time as a human. He hadn’t bothered asking in the first place.
However, that didn’t mean he refused the Womb’s request, something deep within told him that this was necessary for both the future of the followers of Corruption and Emilia. These feelings, he had never rejected these once for they had always proved to lead to a great boon for his people. Thrag was sure it was related to the spiritual connection he had established with the great existence that dwelled way above their heads.
Suddenly, the First Priest keeled over in what seemed to be pain with his hands tightly clutched around his head. The fatigued acolytes perked up with renewed energy as they rushed over to their teacher, worry etched on their expressions. However, by the time they managed to drag their bodies over, Thrag appeared to have partially recovered. Relief briefly erupted among the acolytes, before concern took over as the traces of the ordeal became visible to their eyes.
Sweat laced the creases of his forehead, slowly dripping down between his uneven breaths. Two of his students lent him their shoulders, allowing the priest a moment to compose himself and digest the information forced into his brain.
The Horde.
It was what those hunched beings, that the Wombs had brought into existence, were called. And Thrag felt as if he had always known that fact, but he knew that wasn’t the case a few minutes ago. But now, the priest could be said to be an expert on these new additions, a great reward for the pain he had to undergo to earn it. Although it was unsettling how seamlessly the knowledge had merged with his memories, Thrag quickly adapted and shifted his focus towards the uses of this newfound information.
Sifting through the implanted knowledge allowed him to understand how to make the most effective use of the Horde. And these scaly beings happened to be best suited to being fodder, something Thrag was sure that they would need in the future when dealing with more powerful threats. But, the Horde wasn’t limited to this aspect. Just like every other creature to exist, these demons could also grow stronger and even evolve.
And amongst the information Thrag had received, two of the many evolutionary paths belonging to the Horde had been revealed to him. Both were unique in their own way, promising benefits in different areas, leaving the priest wondering which one he should choose to point their own Horde towards.
The first path was known as the Hive, it simply involved the Horde corrupting and consuming their enemies whilst remaining together. Entering this unending cycle would trigger the development of a hivemind, birthing a forever-growing army with the ability to adapt to even the most insurmountable of enemies. That, of course, was only a possibility right now. In the early stages of development, these creatures would experience rapid growth but this would quickly plateau, dooming these demons to mediocrity.
For the Horde to become a fully fleshed Hive, it would require a lot of time and blood, in essence, a war. Something they would have plenty of in the coming future. Thrag believed that raising a Hive was definitely within their abilities, but despite the great potential of the Hive, his interest wouldn’t let the second path leave the forefront of his mind.
The Scourge.
A fiend born out of pure cannibalism, the more of its brethren a single member of the horde devours, the greater the increase in power will be when it evolves into a Scourge. These demons could grow to be absolute menaces to those who point their weapons towards them, but the same could be said for their allies. Specifically, any variant of the Horde.
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Even after evolution, Scourges could gain more strength through further cannibalism, though the gains wouldn’t be on the same scale pre-evolution, there was still power to be gained. This wouldn’t be an issue if the Horde demons being consumed were the standard fodder, but Scourges consumed all variants of the Horde, including evolved variations such as the Hive. With how difficult it was to lead the Horde down these evolutionary paths, demon armies typically have smaller divisions of Scourges compared to other Horde units.
A compromise between their great destructive capabilities and their cannibalistic tendencies. But Thrag’s focus wasn’t on their potential strength but rather their affinity towards cannibalism, and whether there was a way to suppress or even remove this from the Scourge.
His initial ideas pointed the priest towards the concept their Lord presided over, was it possible to corrupt the desire to eat one’s brethren and twist it in such a way that this desire would directed to another target?
Of course, these were just ideas for him to explore in the future once he had furthered his understanding of Corruption. For now, all Thrag could do was lock these thoughts away until that day came. Their village had gained so much in such a short span of time, he couldn’t let himself become too greedy, lest he become ungrateful to his Lord’s grace.
All these gains had to be consolidated and fully absorbed so that when the apostle returned, they would be ready to crush their next foe.
Pulling himself away from his students’ shoulders, Thrag stood tall despite the fatigue doing its best to pull him down. Their Lord had entrusted the apostle with a great task, as the First Priest, he had to do his utmost to offer the most support possible to her. Rest was not an option, that was what death was for. As long as he had the breath in his lungs, he would do whatever it took to see the banner of Corruption cover the world with its shadow.
These thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of deranged laughter tearing through the silence of the village. With the familiarity of the voice as well as the general direction of the laughter, a tired smile appeared on the priest’s lips as he wondered what the blacksmith had discovered.
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Rak’s muscular form lay strewn across the forge floor, the blacksmith seemingly in deep sleep. Snake-like veins once bulging beneath every inch of his skin, slowly relaxed as his body received much-needed rest. After what he had experienced in the past few hours, it was no surprise that he was unbothered by the hardness of the floor that had become his temporary bed.
Next to his form was a dark anvil, the faint scratches that traced its weathered surface revealing its great age. And aged it was, having been in the village longer than Thrag, it had been used by all those who called themselves blacksmiths in the history of the village. Many weapons had experienced their birth, but none of those ordinary would be able to compete with the sword that currently sat on the anvil.
Sleek and sharp like the standard swords wielded by the goblins, it didn’t look like it harboured any special traits. But a closer inspection would reveal the subtle glow that radiated from the sword’s edge, sucking in all those who observed.
A shadow was cast over the sword as a hand gently moved along the surface of the sword, eventually making its way to the handle. Once the handle was tightly within its grasp, the sword’s glow subtly intensified, sending a minuscule burst of mana straight to its wielder’s brain.
Upon learning about the sword’s ability, Thrag couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping as his eyes constantly switched between the sleeping creator and his creation.
“Rak…this…”
His tongue moved but no words left his mouth, his brain struggled to think of something to say but the shock was too overwhelming. This sword he held in his hands, more specifically its ability was something he had never seen before.
This ability just happened to be perfectly suited to the followers of Corruption, the boost it would give them was unimaginable. For a second, he was about to pester the blacksmith about the details of the weapon but seeing him sleeping on the floor, he changed his mind.
Forging this sword must have taken a lot out of him, this was the first time Rak had created such a weapon after all.
After instructing the acolytes to move Rak to a more comfortable sleeping space, the priest stood outside the forge with the sword still clasped in his hand. He watched as the sun disappeared under the treeline, sinking the forest into the darkness of night.