Runeblade

As his feet touched down on the dusty rock that made up the cave floor, Kaius heard great rattling thumps echo through and out of the hunting lodge. Seeming to almost shake the foundation of the building itself, each thundering reverberation reaching into his chest to set a cold grip on his heart.

The Bloodsong was still there, keeping his blood roaring hot. But it was muted. Tempered by primal feelings that screamed out, urging retreat to a long forgotten canopy in the face of something long of teeth and strong of claw.

Reaching the centre of the compound, Kaius took a long and slow breath, pushing the lances of ice that crept up his extremities to the back of his mind. Focusing on the battle ahead. There would be no room for mistakes. Not against a true monstrosity like this.

He settled into his stance, legs slightly bent and his grip on his spear firm but loose.

Great, grey fingers gripped the top of the lodge\'s door frame, aged wood splintering as the sausage sized digits clenched. Kaius\'s stomach dropped as the Champion stooped, bowing its head to fit through the building\'s entrance. Its cleaver dragging along the floor with a terrible screech of tortured stone.

It crossed the veranda, tanning wracks shattering like kindling in the passage of its inexorable bulk.

Standing at the threshold, it stared at him again. Cold malevolence glimmering in its eyes as a rictus grin split its diseased face. Kaius took a sharp breath, stoking the forge of battle-lust that had been growing within him over every brush with death he\'d had since getting trapped in the Depths.

"Meat." It spoke. The words rumbled across the intervening space, a timbre of tortured metal rattling deep in Kaius\'s chest.

The champion lifted its oversized cleaver with a slow grace, slapping the sharpened slab of iron into its opposing palm with a great thwack.

A wooden stair splintered as it kicked off the veranda, the Champion charging him with the unhindered momentum of a raging bull. Kaius kept his eyes locked on the undead, ready to react.

Its great strides ate up the distance between them quickly. It was fast.

Raising its cleaver high, the Champion chopped. Kaius danced to the side. The slab of iron bit deep into the cave floor, stone shards leaving stinging bites as chipped stone showered his face.

He counterattacked instantly, lancing the undead in the arm with his boar-spear. Kaius tried to follow it up with a second stab to its exposed face, but was forced to dodge when the Butcher sliced at him with casual ease.

He didn\'t even try to parry the blow. With its obvious strength, his spear might as well have been a toothpick.

The Champion lashed out again, air whistling as its cleaver blurred towards him. Dipping back, Kaius repositioned, trying to harry the undead with a flurry of quick strikes. It managed to ward off some with sweeping parries, but for all its strength and increased coordination nothing could make such a weighty weapon as deft as his spear.

Small cuts and shallow stabs marred the chest and arms of the undead, small rivulets of thick running blood leaking from the wounds. Kaius watched the injuries intensely, relief washing through him when he saw that they didn\'t heal. Thank the gods for that, it would be challenging enough to whittle down the creature without having to burn through a pool of restorative energy.

Lunging, the Champion snatched toward him with a plate sized hand, trying to grab him with a fatal grip.

A sharp slide back just barely brought Kaius out of its range. He quickly retaliated with a warding stab that ground against the bones in its palm.

Roaring in frustration it slammed its cleaver into the stone floor at an angle, showering Kaius with stone shards and dust. His eyes welled up, forcing him to blink rapidly in an attempt to clear the sudden irritants.

He threw himself backwards, a water stained impression the only warning he had of the giant\'s follow up slash. Landing on his side, he rolled with his momentum, rising to his feet in a single fluid movement. The Champion was already charging towards him.

He took the momentary reprieve to clear his eyes, dodging another cleaver strike and retaliating with a slash that carved a line of weeping black through its pustule-ridden shoulder.

All distractions were forgotten now. Blood running hot, his senses hyper focused on the target in front of him. Kaius fell deeper into the Bloodsong with gusto, feeling the rushing need to fight.

The Butcher growled in fury, venting its malevolent aggression with a slash at his torso. Kaius slipped to the side, the blow whistling past him. Before he could retaliate, it moved with the momentum of its swing, bringing its cleaver around again.

And again.

And again.

Continuously Kaius gave ground to the Depths-spawn\'s fast flow of heaving strength and cutting iron. They moved around the natural stone courtyard, the Champion unable to corner him. Failing to force him into a position where he would be unable to dodge. Yet Kaius was equally as unable to penetrate the whirling offence to punish the assault.

Suddenly the blows stopped, the Champion\'s face twisting into an expression of hatred that chilled the blood.

Its chest heaved as it opened its rotten mouth wide, shoulders pushing back as it inhaled. A great howl left its throat, a sound of ravenous consumption. The air shimmered as the sound hit Kaius like a physical wall. Something sank its way into his ears, pushing into his mind.

He could feel it. Stoking a primal fear. Encouraging his heart to race, his stomach to shrivel, suffusing his mind and body with a sickly, rotten terror. Calling to mind the final paralysing moment when the beast tears into your entrails, and you know there is nothing, nothing, you can do to fight or run. So you lie still, terror drenched, and die.

A sob caught in his throat, pupils dilating.

And then something fought back. Surging through him, rebuffing the energy with a deft familiarity. Walling it off. Crushing it. Denying it. Faster than he could blink, the foreign-borne fear was gone.

**Ding! You have resisted Fear: Call of Consumption**

**Ding! Rapid Adaption has reached level 12!**

The undead Champion watched him with glee, expecting him to freeze. Kaius pulsed with fury, incensed that the creature would dare to attack him in such a manner. To violate the sanctity of his mind, even if just for a moment.

An idea came to him. Reckless, almost stupidly so, but his fury at the Champion\'s mental effect made him far more inclined to try for a decisive action. Plus, the beast had a bloody class skill. He\'d heard of the Guardians that defended the passages through the layers having them, but that was it. He knew nothing of Champions and their abilities. If it had one, who\'s to say it wasn\'t high enough level to have more? Or that next time, its roar wouldn\'t paralyse him, or send him fleeing in terror?

Better to take a chance now.

Kaius held still, allowing a slight tremor to enter his hands, jaw quivering as he stared at the champion with a wide eyed expression. The champion let out a slight chortle, convinced it had gotten him. Its arms fell to its side, cleaver carried with a practised ease. It stepped forwards.

"Closer, you bastard." Kaius thought.

It took another step, strolling with the calm surety of a sadistic predator that liked to play with its food.

"Closer!"

Another step brought it into range. Kaius exploded into motion, hidden tension erupting through his limbs as he lunged forward. His spear hurtled towards the Champion\'s undefended face. Its eyes widened in surprise. At the last moment it jerked its head to the side, the edge of Kaius\'s spear carving through its cheek and down the side of its head.

Loose flesh fell free, the undead\'s cheek flopping open to reveal the blackened nubs of its teeth. Black blood flowed from the wound, staining its grey flesh and leather apron.

Kaius looked in shock at the lacking result of his surprise attack and attempted to pull his spear back. With a swiftness belying its size the Butcher snatched up his spear, yanking Kaius towards it as its cleaver rose up for a killing stroke.

Forced to let go in order to not be pulled into the creature\'s reach, Kaius stumbled back, palming the hilt of his inscribed sword. He drew it free of its scabbard, silver and grey ripples catching the soft light. He watched as the undead tightened its grip on his borrowed boar spear, the wooden half creaking momentarily before it shattered.

It was for the best anyway. He\'d always been more comfortable with the sword his father had gifted him in hand, and the more he used it the more focused the influence Warforged would have on his class would be. Plus, nothing ever settled in his palms quite as well as his sword.

The Champion stepped in, trying to catch Kaius with a diagonal slice. He dodged to the left, bringing his blade to bare, slicing the giant and scoring a deep cut across its shoulder and chest.

While his sword might have lacked some of the reach of the boar-spear, its mana drenched alloy and supernaturally honed edge made short work of the creature\'s toughened hide.

Whipping back around, the Champion brought down its cleaver in an overhead strike. Kaius\'s eyes widened. It had moved faster than it had before. He didn\'t have time to avoid the blow. His sword came up in a parry, trying to push the slab of iron away. The oversized weapons\' sheer inertia shoved him back..

The cleaver skittered down his sword edge, refusing to bind. The Champion twisted its wrist, guiding its blade to skirt past his cross guard with ease. He tried to disengage, but was too slow to prevent the tip of the weapon from cutting deep into the flesh of his forearm.

Blood welled from the wound, spilling free to land on the cold stone with a light splatter. Kaius and the Champion broke their engagement, stepping back to circle each other with calm steps. The undead\'s easy grin was made all the more grotesque by the flap of its cheek hanging down past its jaw. It shook its free arm, now dripping and stained with the foetid blood that spilled forth from the wound on its shoulder.

He didn\'t miss the slight shudder as it tried to lift its hand to its front.

He\'d done some damage to the muscle. That was good.

Nor did Kaius miss the growing itchy heat emanating from his wounded arm, so different from the burn of Health - already expending itself to seal the cut. No, it was the withering furnace of a fever.

**Ding! You have been afflicted by Blood Rot: Profane Instruments**

Another skill. That was bad. No less because he had no idea what blood rot actually did. He could only hope that Rapid Adaptation would see him through and keep him in fighting shape. At the very least he doubted the Butcher had anything else left up its sleeve. If it followed any normal sense of progression it would have to be over level forty to have another skill. He would already be dead if that was the case.

Even as it stood, it was a lethal foe. Without his legacy skills he would be dead a dozen times over. Not for the first time he thanked the gods for the luck of his birth, even if it did mean he grew up in the wilderness, hiding from unknown enemies.

He could feel Rapid Adaptation working, its bolstering energy flowing through his body to taste and sample the new threat. Devising the best way to adapt and neutralise the deleterious force.

He just had to hold on long enough for it to get there.

His arm hot and swollen, Kaius leapt towards the Butcher, stabbing towards its face. It raised its cleaver to slap away his thrust, only to roar in frustration as he twirled his blade and cut deep into its shoulder. Its blade arm, this time.

Kaius stepped through with his blow, aiming to circle behind the Butcher and cut off its avenues of attack. The undead whirled on him, lashing out with a cut that ripped another line of hot fire through the thin layer of fat that covered his belly.

**Ding! Affliction - Blood Rot: Profane Instruments strengthens!**

An explosion of pain that radiated out from the cut, followed by a welting and sickly heat. His abdominals tensed uncontrollably, and Kaius felt his skill start to probe the new location. Continuing to taste the flavour of the energy, trying to take its measure. He could already feel the tendrils of rot seeping up his arm from the previous cut. Snake-like, using his veins as highways to ravage his body.

He had to finish this. Fast.