D101 Chapter 199

Rho'dan had noticed something was off as soon as the Demon had flown in as a bat. 

No one else seemed aware, but safety and security were not their priorities. 

While the people gorged themselves on fancy cheeses, and shouted their lungs out, Rho'dan's eyes had never once stopped scanning the rooftops, the crowd, and the back alleys. 

He was the last line of defense, and he took this trust & responsibility seriously. 

Losing his longtime best friend had felt as if he had lost a piece of himself. The fact that his son was the only remaining piece that he had to cling onto was what motivated Rho'dan to do better. 

This new addition to their family had been amusing with his pursuit of the arts. An utterly abysmal actor prone to defaming his detractors, and nakedly plagiarizing works, Varrus had endeared himself to Rho'dan with the sheer dedication and effort that he put forth. 

Day after day, year after year, Varrus put himself on stage, and was mocked ceaselessly for it. Newspapers, plays, and all forms of gossip made light of Vandercross's largest failure. 

Rho'dan was most pleased when his friend had asked him to crack a few shins, and snap the wrists of a journalist or two that had overstepped their bounds. 

These last few decades had been a brief, yet entertaining portion of Rho'dan's otherwise droll life. 

Then the Scourge attacked. 

Losing his best friend and companion, Rho'dan had acted upon a blind sense of duty, only going through the motions. 

But Varrus, that young man, he was more than Rho'dan had ever anticipated. Oh to be sure, he was the same supercilious fop underneath all the acts of grandiosity, but he was a mage, and a damned good one at that. 

This boy that he had seen grow from infant to First Seat of the Convocation had set Rho'dan's breast ablaze with feelings of pride. 

How proud Rho'dan was at the amount of scorn and hatred Varrus generated for himself. He really was like a young version of Vandercross. 

Working alongside Varrus to establish a new empire was just like the events from so long ago when Quel'Thalas was formed. 

Rho'dan had always lamented that he did not get to take part in the conquest. Born too late for the glory, born too early to care about the Orc Wars, Rho'dan felt as if he had missed out. 

But what Varrus was doing was something special. Something worthy of Rho'dan's protection. 

So it was that he spent every waking hour taking care of the tiny details, the day to day operations that might distract from his studying and plotting. 

So it was that he found himself here, on Quel'Vanar, patrolling to the best of his ability. 

Wearing the amulet Varrus had gifted many amongst the Covenant, Rho'dan could distinguish the auras between the living and the dead. 

Yet when he saw a high speed black ball of fur fly into the city through the portal, it did not reveal either aura. 

This beast was cause for concern on its own, but lacking an aura of life or death meant that whatever it was, it was either an automaton, or a Demon. 

Tracking its movements, Rho'dan had realized it was heading for the central tower, likely to carry out some nefarious plot concerning King Sunstrider. 

Varrus was within the midst of delivering a powerful speech, and Rho'dan had no inclination to bother him. 

Having slain perpetrators on 27 separate incidents, Rho'dan had not informed his charge then, nor did he intend to inform him now. 

Varrus's peace of mind was part of Rho'dan's duty. He took it very seriously. 

And so he had moved to head him off, and confronted the polymorpher into the central tower, where it was revealed to be none other than a Dreadlord. 

Upon releasing his domain, the Dreadlord radiated with the power of a Demigod, and Rho'dan realized he was vastly outmatched. 

Yet he did not falter. 

Within this room, he had gathered with him the other members of the Crossguard, and stationed over the King was Knight-Lord Dranarus along with a detachment of the Royal Spebreakers. 

There was a chance. 

Attempting to send out an emergency message via scrying orb, and vocalize a command, Rho'dan noticed that sound in this domain did not transmit. 

Every other Elf in this room caught on quickly to this fact, and adjusted according to training. 

A silent glance took place between him and Dranarus, and they knew what to do. 

Forming a shield wall of interlinked shields with the four other members of the Crossguard, Rho'dan could only hope upon the strength of Varrus's smithing & enchanting to hold out. 

Meanwhile, the Spellbreakers stood a row behind them, and prepared to act as auxiliaries whilst Rho'dan drew the brunt of the attacks. 

Their only shot, and hope here, was to hold out long enough for the Spellbreakers to drain the Demon of his mana. Once he weakened, they would hopefully be able to break through the domain, and send for reinforcements. 

All this passed between Rho'dan and Dranarus in that one second glance, and then the fight was on. 

The Dreadlord lunged forth, his cloven hooves placed him at just a head taller than Rho'dan, and the glint in his eye promised murder. 

Perhaps it was providence that had seen Rho'dan damage the Demon's wing whilst he was polymorphed as a fly, because as outrageous as his speed was, it was barely trackable. 

Doing his best impression of a wall, Rho'dan remained stoic in the face of overwhelming power. 

Great claws, each the size of Rho'dan's chest slashed forth. Coated in the foul green energies of the Fel, they tore into the formation in a frenzy. 

The protective enchantments popped as easily as if an iron needle were to pierce a bubble. 

Gritting his teeth from the sudden strain, Rho'dan dug his heels in, and pushed. 

His comrades in the Crossguard had trained this same maneuver with him countless times. It was in preparation to stop the oncoming momentum of a giant, as enemies larger than life seemed to be oh so common as of late. 

Rho'dan never expected to have to use it against a foe that only stood a head taller than him, but here he was. 

Straining his muscles, and flexing his mana, Rho'dan shared a link of energy with the Crossguard, and the five of them acted as one. By combining their might in the past like this, they could kill most Heroes. Now with Varrus's enchantments, it was time to test this formation against a Demigod! 

Pressing forth, Rho'dan didn't even bother drawing his sword, and solely focused on drawing mana into his pores via his connection to the Sunwell. 

Spending every last drop the very second his body absorbed it, Rho'dan began to sweat, and started to tremble as his body took on more pressure than it ordinarily was able to. 

Glancing over the lip of his shield, Rho'dan withhold a smile as he saw his enemy prowl all around them like a feline predator. 

Their initial hold must have surprised the Demon, and now it was assessing them for weaknesses. 

It must know that it was pressed for time too. Every second that the Demon remained within close proximity, was a minute in which Dranarus drained him of his energy. 

Flapping its wings, the Demon spread a windy miasma containing the essence of his domain. 

“Sleeeeep.” A deep, melodic voice entered his psyche. 

Rho'dan shook his head, and resisted the call. Shaking his compatriots on his left and right, he awoke them from the stupor. 

However, his companion on his far right was out of his reach, and had slumped forward. 

The Dreadlord spotted this weakness, and capitalized on it. 

Lunging forward at lightning speeds, the Demon snatched up a member of the Crossguard, and tore out his throat. 

Claws gleaming green, the monster mockingly bared its fangs at Rho'dan as he was forced to remain in his protective position-lest the Dreadlord bypass him for the Spellbreakers-and watch. 

Floating back to his original spot, the Demon began to pace once more. This provocation acted just as much to weaken the Elven number, as well as their morale. What was especially bad was that the link had significantly weakened due to the death of his comrade.  

In such a dire circumstance, Rho'dan would shout out words of encouragement, yet this silence was murder. 

Rho'dan hated this Demon for what he had done, but there was nothing he could do about it. If he stepped out of his formation, he was as good as dead. 

Glaring at the Demon, Rho'dan waited for its next move. 

The Demon suddenly jumped up to the ceiling, and moved to fly over Rho'dan's head. 

Flexing his mana, Rho'dan managed the link, and pressed the group's mana into a translucent, deep blue,  physical barrier, one that rose up to block the Demon's advance. At the same time he, along with the remaining Crossguard raised their weapons to stab at the Demon. 

Rolling to the side, the Dreadlord launched a carrion swarm from within his robes before Rho'dan could raise the aura. 

Whilst Rho'dan had halted the Demon's advance, he had failed to block his spell. 

10,000 Undead gnats and bugs swarmed them, causing havoc. 

The line threatened to falter as the insects nibbled at their armor, and buzzed with the intention of entering their ears, but Rho'dan never once took his eyes off the enemy, and flexed the protective aura to coat their bodies. 

However, he couldn't afford to extend this protection to the Spellbreakers, and they were forced to redirect their efforts. They were completely taken out of the fight for the moment. 

The Dreadlord then did something unexpected. He burrowed his way into the brick floor, disappearing from sight. 

!!!!!

This action greatly alarmed Rho'dan, and he turned around hoping to warn Dranarus, but without sound, there was nothing he could say. 

As the Spellbreakers were occupied with removing the gnats, they never saw it coming. 

Bursting out of the floor in a cloud of debris, the Dreadlord tore into the unsuspecting Spellbreakers, killing all of them almost instantly, and grievously wounding Dranarus. 

Smirking at Rho'dan, the Dreadlord ever so slightly glanced over his shoulder. Their positions had been reversed, the Demon now was the one closest to the King! 

With a snap of his claw, the young monarch would surely meet his demise. 

Rho'dan was running out of options, and had to come to a decision soon. 

He was feeling as if his only solution was to wager on the outrageous, to follow in his charge's footsteps. 

‘Meet his demise. Meet. Meat. Truly an outrageous thought.’ Rho'dan felt stupid going over this line of thought, but it seemed fitting in a way. 

What better way to go down was there, than by paying homage to your loved one? 

Rushing towards the Dreadlord, Rho'dan abandoned the formation, and reached into his mageweave bag. 

He had been preparing something special for this Triumph, a gift for a very special someone, but now he was going to have to use it here and now. 

The Dreadlord seemed amused by Rho'dan's actions, and didn't immediately go to the King. 

Rho'dan was glad that the Dreadlord was as arrogant as he seemed. He had noticed the tell tale signs of hidden rage when he had ignored the Demon earlier. For the Dreadlord, this was personal. 

But for Rho'dan, this was Tuesday. 

Running headlong at the Demon, Rho'dan pulled out a large haunch of savory meat, and slapped it at the Dreadlord's head. 

The monster met his charge with a lunge, and as if he had something to prove, put an absolutely ridiculous amount of mana into his right claw. The air began to vibrate, and tiny spider web cracks began to form in the space around him. 

White light flashed in Rho'dan's eyes, and his vision became so dim he was almost blind as pain like no other flooded his body. 

Veins turning black as Fel poison entered his body, sound returned to Rho'dan's ears, only to hear the Dreadlord chuckling. 

“Arrogance has its price, mortal. When Molag'Bal asks who sent you to him, say that it was Varimathras.” The Dreadlord taunted. 

Rho'dan, with everything he had, slapped the piece of meat on the Dreadlord's face as he leaned close to gloat. 

Hearing the wet slap, Rho'dan gasped, and slumped back off Varimathras's claws. Hearing beginning to go, and losing his sense of feeling, Rho'dan had the pleasure of picking up a dog's growl, and witnessing Omen break through the domain to grab Varimathras on the throat by surprise. 

Tearing the Dreadlord's throat out, Omen began kicking Varimathras's ass so hard, that when the dog unleashed his own domain, it broke Varimathras's domain like an egg being smashed upon the sidewalk. 

“Enjoy Coldharbor, Elf. I don't know how you summoned this beast, but it won't save you!” Varimathras hatefully spat, and was retreating away from Omen towards the King. 

Rho'dan wanted to taunt Varimathras, tell the Dreadlord that his domain blocked sounds, and the vibrations of mana, but not smells. However, only black fluid dribbled out of his chin. 

He was not long for this world. 

Before Varimathras could make his escape, Kael had awoken at some point during the fight, and had stepped behind him with Felo'melorn in hand. 

Consumed by phoenix fire, the Dreadlord screamed as his soul was burnt to ashes. 

Seconds later, Varrus and Syra burst through the walls, and witnessed the Dreadlord's demise. 

“Rho'dan!” Varrus cried in shocked horror. 

Rho'dan felt spell after spell land upon him, but the cursed Fel running its course in his veins was just as powerful as Varrus's magic, and barely refused to budge. 

“Varrus.” Rho'dan called out, unable to see. 

“I'm here Rho'dan.” Varrus replied. 

The boy sounded as if he were talking to Rho'dan from a sewer hole during a rainstorm, it was so difficult to hear him. 

.Something wet was hitting him on the face. 

..Was it raining? 

…Oh, little Varrus was holding his hand, so sweet. 

.…Did Varrus remember to bring his umbrella?

“You are a good..boy…Varrus.” Rho'dan muttered, and then he saw no more. 

“RHO'DAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!” 

“AWOOOOO!!!!”