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Their charge through the warcamp of Grimidal was something that the Norscans did not expect nor prepare for. In these vital minutes they needed to be faster than the word of their arrival. Faster than the realization that all the pain, terror, and death the men of chaos heard was not of their own doing.
Lucian knew he was not going to be perfect in this. His scythe was in motion within seconds of arriving as the Norscans who were ready to spectate his arrival and death were now standing in his way. If they posed him no threat because of their sheer surprise the Knight did not care, his scythe was already in motion taking the heads off of five men before the feet of Nightshade had been burdened by the tainted grounds of the warcamp.
Bok was right behind him. The Kroxigor using its bulk to simply run over the thin lines of men into a disheveled pile of bones and meat.
Lucian held himself for a moment, cutting down ten more of the Norscans in the needed moments for Bok to take point. The Kroxigor still hot on the trail of the giant who they were hunting, it had without any hesitation took a right where Lucian would have taken a left. Quick on its heels, Lucian followed.
They ran and ran with blood and murder in their wake. The burning in his chest told Lucian that he was in the thick of it, becoming what was an even greater symbol of the Slayerkin of Old. The worshippers of the damned were but mere fodder standing in the way of the Knight as he charged forward like an arrow let loose from a bow.
The sun was gone from the sky, the blinding star of the gods covered by earthworks. The smoke and ash from fire used for both survival and sacrifice stuffed the air. Lucian could tell, upon the tip of his senses, the dreadful taste of charred flesh of man butchery.
Even with the ceiling of this outcropping so high up the streets were so narrow. The men appearing outside of their tents and reveries on both sides of Lucian tightened to such damning proportions that it did not compare to simply being under the Grey Mountains. What he was riding towards was not simply a place where earth was stacked on top of one another. As Lucian saw the statues of fiendish daemons created from the flesh of mankind, every step Bok guided him upon was driving Lucian to a realm that was no longer of mortal men.
<span class="mu-s">“The Gods have heard our pleas! They have answered our prayers and sacrifices here today!”</span>
The rumbling voice of a demi-god roared as Bok broke the barrier. Where there was once streets, was now an open sanctum.
Lucian felt fear. The most truest of fear. For the Temple he walked into was the incarnation of Chaos.
<span class="mu-s">“Sleeping I have, resting within the bosom of the Crow for the longest time I had.”</span>
