Wurmdring stared at the camera, watching the Outworlder continue to stay curled in on himself. He knew not why Long Lord Telegad decided to grant the gift of immortality to a mere human, Outworlder or no. Wurmdring had to struggle for centuries to be granted the privilege, yet this boy had only just met the Long Lords before being ascended above mortality. It irked him slightly, but the Long Lords knew better than Wurmdring did.
There was also the fact that Long Lord Telegad was the most impulsive of the three brothers, following his instincts more often than not. It was not because Lord Telegad thought that this… Michael was better than him or any other dwarf.
He remained standing there for a long while, simply staring at the camera until finally, he saw the human's head rise from the ground, staring at the Shaved he had just drained with wide-eyed horror. A small part of him sympathized with the human, he had felt much the same way after his first feeding, though he would never admit it openly.
Now that Michael was awake, he would need to send for Dundale. It had been only four hours since Wurmdring had suggested he go to bed, but the beardling wouldn't care, the excitement alone would be enough to fuel him. That Stoutfoot seemed more than eager to learn about the Outworld, as well as the surface, it was no wonder Lord Megad had taken a liking to him. Dundale was much like his grandfather that way, it was a shame he never returned from his expedition all those years ago, likely having fallen to the Marked.
He froze for an instant as he felt the air shift, someone was here. He turned, seeing that the door had opened by itself, though no sound had came from it. The Fanged Guard outside the door still had their backs facing away, clearly not having heard a thing.
"Intruder!" Wurmdring shrouded, but his fellow vampires did not react.
A Silence spell then, no matter! Wurmdring lunged for the nearby alarm system, a small lever that would sound the klaxons throughout all of New Romai. However, after he pulled the lever, no sound came out of it. His kindred were still unaware, meaning that the alarm hadn't sounded outside the chamber either. Hoplite had managed to disable the alarm system somehow, and because Megad's prison had no cameras to observe it…
Wurmdring was on his own.
"Foul creature!" Wurmdring shouted as the door shut, "I will not let you escape this time, I will crush you beneath my heel and present your head to the Long Lords for mounting!"
A blast rang out from nothing, lighting up the chamber for a brief instant as the thunder crashed into Wurmdring's chestplate. Something blew straight through the metal and his torso, knocking him back into the wall and cracking the concrete with the impact. Black blood exploded from Wurmdring's mouth, his organs spilling out of his breastplate as he slid down the wall, smearing it black on the way down. He immediately Dispelled the cloaking, revealing Hoplite, but instead of being a naked animal, he was clad in that dark armor again, the featureless helmet staring down on Wurmdring with indifference.
Wurmdring channeled Raw Foundation quickly, seeking to Dispel the Sound Suppression- only for his own Dispel to be matched with Hoplite's own. The two cancelled one another out, leaving the Sound Suppression up. Hoplite aimed his shotgun at Wurmdring's head, the vampire ducking away just before he pulled the trigger. The blast punched through the blood-stained concrete where Wurmdring had just been, shaking the room with the force.
Wurmdring grinned as he saw the door behind Hoplite open, the Fanged Guard outside no doubt having felt the vibrations, if not the sound. They could flank him now, as Hoplite wouldn't have heard the sound of the door opening. With the Outworlders attention on Wurmdring, he wouldn't be able to see them coming- Hoplite reared on the vampires, pulling the trigger immediately and sending the first dwarf flying backward from the impact. The slug punched through the vampire's armor as if it were paper, leaving fist-sized holes throughout his entire torso.
Wurmdring cursed as he stuffed his organs back into himself, feeling them knit back together as his body repaired itself. How had Hoplite known that the Fanged Guard were behind him!? He must have noticed a subtle change in the light once the door had been opened, as slight as it was. One of his comrades countered Hoplite's Sound Suppression, but otherwise they did not charge into the chamber. Good, if they came in one by one Hoplite would have turned them into mulch with that shotgun. Wurmdring stood, his flesh already closed over before he summoned his Light Whips, flinging them at Hoplite with his back turned.
Hoplite, with speed that should have been impossible with that armor, quickly sidestepped the whips before they could make impact. Caught off guard, Wurmdring quickly attempted to course correct, changing the trajectory of the whips to follow him. He wasn't fast enough though, as Hoplite twisted toward him, the barrel of his shotgun flashing with hellfire aimed for Wurmdring's head.
With supernatural speed, the vampire jumped to the left, saving his skull but not his arm as the slug destroyed the limb entirely. The screen that had been behind him was shattered as the shot punched through that as well, cutting off the feed from the inside of the cell. Shards of metal and flesh hung uselessly from his half-removed arm, everything below the elbow now gone.
How had Hoplite known that they were coming? He had moved far too deliberately for that dodge to have been a fluke. He attempted to Dispel, reaching out with tendrils of Foundation to feel for what he'd thought must have been Third Eye, but was shocked to realize that no such spell was active. So how was it possible? Another shotgun blast rang out, this one colliding with both of his legs before blowing them off at the knees. Wurmdring screamed as the ground rose up to meet him, his helmet colliding with the ground with a clang.
He was going to die. Wurmdring immediately rolled, another blast cratering the ground where he had just been. He looked up, seeing Hoplite charging him, rearing his massive sabaton back before lashing out with a kick aimed for Wurmdring's head. He could not avoid it in time… Hoplite's boot collided with the top of Wurmdring's skull, completely obliterating it and sending the remains splattering across the whole chamber.
Everything went completely black until Wurmdring's head grew back, along with his limbs. He looked up, briefly confused only to realize that the fight was still ongoing. Hoplite was now contending with other vampires that had charged in, attempting to pull him to the ground with Light Whips. It didn't matter, they may as well have been trying to uproot all of New Romai itself, for he didn't budge an inch. Whatever Hoplite was, when he was in his armor, he was a different type of beast.
The Fanged Guard filed in, shouting orders to one another to buy Wurmdring time to heal. Usually it should have taken far longer for a vampire to fully recover from such wounds… but it seemed only a few seconds had passed. He immediately casted Haste, increasing his speed twice over. He stood, leaping up toward Hoplite's helmet with a snarl, faster than a bullet. Hoplite almost got another shot off on Wurmdring, but one of his fellow vampires had wrapped the gun up in a Light Whip, pulling the barrel off center.
Hoplite fired regardless, the shot tearing through Wurmdring's other arm and impacting with the door to Michael's cell, leaving deep dents in its surface. Wurmdring collided with the helmet, wrapping his legs around Hoplite's neck before bringing his wide fists crashing down on the helmet. He felt his punches slow for a brief instant before they could make impact, but the lost momentum didn't mean too much.
Hoplite's helmet clanged, shifting to the left, then to the right, matching the rhythm of Wurmdring's beating. In just two seconds, Wurmdring smote that helmet twenty times, a bubble of energy bursting around Hoplite's armor. He felt the man's knees begin to buckle as no doubt Hoplite's brain had been shaken into soup by Wurmdring's assault, fully falling to his knees. His comrades rushed in at this sign of weakness, seizing the shotgun from Hoplite's hands. They were unable to pry it free however, and before Wurmdring could continue his attack, he felt his limbs fall slack.
His grasp on Foundation floundered as he felt Hoplite's hand tear into his back, partially ripping it out. Wurmdring felt his head pull back as Hoplite tugged the spine hard, sending him crashing to the ground violently. He felt his body leave the ground as agony exploded from his midsection, sent flying by a powerful kick. He impacted with the large monitor again, completely shattering it before rolling down over the console and back onto the ground, his torso indented with the shape of Hoplite's boot. Wurmdring watched uselessly as Hoplite lashed out with his free hand, hitting one of the Fanged Guard's with the back of his fist.
The skull exploded into chunks, painting the chamber with black gore as Wurmdring's body quickly repaired itself. Another Fanged Guard was blown away by the shotgun as Wurmdring's flesh pulled the spine back into place, sealing over it quickly with newly regrown flesh. He rose once again, casting Haste before summoning the thickest Light Whips he could, but before he could fling them at Hoplite, he fled the room.
The juggernaut barreled straight over two vampires, trampling them beneath his boots and leaving dented husks of leaking armor behind. They just needed to last a bit longer, surely the Fanged Guards had called for backup, it was just a matter of waiting for the full Fanged Host to descend on the Outworlder. No matter how effective he was in that power armor, he could not stand up against an army of fangs. Once more Wurmdring rose to his knees, again having regenerated faster than what should have been possible.
He sprinted right at Hoplite, who now stood over the grate, the Blood Pool whirling beneath it. A dozen Light Whips still wrapped around him, but Hoplite didn't seem to slow even a bit as he began firing at the surrounding vampires, with a dozen more Fanged Guard pouring in from the Long Lord's personal chambers. Once Hoplite's shotgun clicked empty, he stuck it to his back, drawing a sword from his thigh. In Hoplite's hands however, it looked like little more than a knife.
He dodged a swipe from Hoplite as he came within arms reach, sliding between his legs before wrapping two Light Whips around each of his ankles. Wurmdring came up on the other side and tugged with all his might, yet all he managed to accomplish was locking Hoplite in place. A Fanged Guard charged him with a large warhammer, swinging it at the same time Hoplite thrust his knife at him.
Blade met hammer, but much to Wurmdring's shock, the knife split the dwarf-wrought steel in twain, punching straight through it to puncture the Fanged Guards helmet. The vampire twitched, his body falling to the ground as Hoplite immediately withdrew the blade. It would be a minute or so before that one would come back, by time that happened, the battle would likely be over… Wurmdring couldn't count on his fellows to do little more than slow Hoplite down.
Victory would only be possible if he brought Hoplite low, and soon. Wurmdring snarled as he kicked at the back of Hoplite's knee, but the bastard's leg only moved a smidge. Hoplite whirled, the Light Whips unable to stop him as he lashed out at Wurmdring's head with a kick. He ducked beneath the blow and landed an uppercut on Hoplite's groin, a blow that seemed to freeze the Outworlder in place.
Yet that had only been for an instant. Wurmdring's brain was destroyed as Hoplite drove his knife deeply through his skull, sending him back into a world of darkness. When Wurmdring awoke again, he found himself on the opposite side of the chamber, having cratered the engraving of Oros the Genocider. His limbs were stuck in the rock, and he had to struggle to free himself as he stared at the battle below. Twenty Fanged guards weren't enough as Hoplite bisected them with his giant knife, their armor useless against its edge. They dogpiled him, attempting to wrestle him to the ground to no avail.
This suit made their power armor look like a joke, it infuriated him. Hoplite shook them off like a dog, sending the vampires flying away before he pulled something from his belt. Wurmdring's eyes widened as he realized what it was.
"Get clear! Grenade!" He shouted as Hoplite pulled the pin.
He tossed it toward Long Lord Telegad's throne, right where a group of five vampires were fleeing. The blast that followed after deafened him briefly, a white spot right in the center of his vision as the explosion practically disintegrated the five vampires, inflicting damage that they could not regenerate from. The steel grate wasn't spared either, as now a massive hole had opened up in front of the throne of Long Lord Telegad. The front of Telegad's throne dented inward from the force, falling forward toward opening before it snapped beneath its own weight, falling right into the Blood Pool with a splash that geysered up from the breach.
"No!" Wurmdring shouted, falling to the ground with a growl, "This is your end!"
He didn't care if he Burnt himself, Wurmdring would slaughter this insect now! No more good dwarves would die this day! No more artifacts would be ruined! He drew in Foundation, more than his body could handle, casting Haste on himself three times over. The surface of his flesh was alight now as Raw Foundation began to burn him, his body unable to contain it. He was going to die here, but he was at least going to take Hoplite with him!
Burning with Golden Fire, Wurmdring launched himself at the defiler with a scream that cracked the stone walls of the chamber. Hoplite didn't even have time to turn around before Wurmdring struck him, his fist disintegrating into ash against Hoplite's helmet. Hoplite was sent flying, but didn't get the chance to hit the wall as Wurmdring had reached it first, twirling in the air before landing against it with his feet.
Using the wall as a springboard, he leapt toward Hoplite again, kicking that helmet again and losing his foot from the force. The Outworlder flew up toward the ceiling, crashing against it and shaking the whole chamber before he fell down toward Wurmdring, readying his free hand for another strike. Just one more punch would end this once and for all!
He readied himself as Hoplite fell toward him, but right as Hoplite reached him, Wurmdring fell. Foundation left him then, feeling for it was useless, like a phantom limb… it was gone forever. Hoplite fell right on top of Wurmdring then, smashing him flat against the grate and shattering every bone in his body below the neck. He coughed, shocked by the impossible weight of the Outworlder.
His vision began to darken then as his body starting to disintegrate, the Flame consuming him completely now… hopefully those two blows would have been enough to kill Hoplite, but Wurmdring doubted he'd live to see the outcome. The Outworlder remained still for a few seconds, but to Wurmdring's despair, he rose to his feet on trembling legs. He then raised his sabaton over Wurmdring's skull, and stomped it straight through the grate, creating another hole and sending the remains of Wurmdring's head straight into the bloodpool.
Yet, that had not been the end of Wurmdring. Warmth surrounded him now, rushing all around him. His body was whole again, he could feel it, flexing his newly regenerated limbs. Much to his shock, he could even feel Foundation again! This should have been impossible, but there was time to think on this later, the fight was not over yet! He looked upward, bracing his legs before he leapt upward, ready to fight. He impacted with the grate, emerging from the Blood Pool naked and stronger than ever. He quickly scrambled beneath the grate, emerging out of the hole created by Hoplite's grenade.
Yet nothing awaited him back in the throne room. Wurmdring blinked as he saw that all his compatriots were dead or regenerating, having been violently mauled. Hoplite was nowhere in sight, so he charged back to Lord Megad's prison, seeing that Michael's door had been opened and that the illusion keeping Cat hidden was gone… inspecting the cells and Wurmdring could see that they were both gone now.
Wurmdring fell to his knees, golden eyes wide.
He had failed… again.