//------------------------------// // Goliaths Disarm Their Davids // Story: Elements Change the Dark Hearts // by Nightmare_0mega //------------------------------// The sound of crackling knuckles echoed off of the uneven surface of the mined stone walls. Torches flickered gently about in the stagnant air to accompany the sound of popping joints, groans of pain and discomfort dancing about, and settling dust and debris. The splintered wood of broken spears crunched under the heavy foot falls of Dumah's stride as he moved slowly through the mining area, scavenging the surroundings. He checked the broken weapons and discarded, damaged shields. The metal employed in these tools of combat proved utterly pathetic against his raw strength and natural durability. Bent spear points showed the latter while the crushed and torn shield foundations emphasized the former. He tossed the ruined tools aside and moved to one of his downed foes. As he knelt down, he took particular interest in the way the armor was ripped and rendered useless, as his tipped claws traced the tear lines. Dumah smiled at his efforts, if only briefly. With a sudden scowl, he ignored his handy work and paid attention to the continued beating of the dog's heart. Satisfied, his red eyes then scanned around him for the other fallen dregs that called themselves dogs, noting how he was successful in keeping them all alive in the encounter. Excellent, he thought. The thrill of a kill, as delectable as it could be, would be ultimately pointless and perhaps even counterproductive at this point in time, he believed. His mission was heading north to seek a new kingdom, and doing so without armies nipping at his heels would be optimal. Mass slaughter would definitely cause a call for his head, and he didn't need that sort of attention yet. After all, being slowed down any further than he already has been from this labyrinthine nightmare would be unforgivable, as if it weren't a headache enough. Rising up from his knee, he recalled how the fight went. They were clearly outmatched, as if the broken weapons weren't evidence enough for that fact, but they did seem determined to attempt to bring him down regardless. There was almost a scent of desperation and fear among them that drove their actions, pushed further until he struck the last dog down. He confessed it wasn't a particularly difficult encounter. He even had time to sneak in a few quick sips of some of their souls to help his previous recovery accelerate. However, he couldn't help but remark how the souls he did taste were... broken. As if they had been crushed a long time ago and were helpless to leave some sort of pit of despair they were trapped in. It was truly a bitter taste for Dumah, one that he hadn't experienced until now. Casting aside those dismal thoughts, he moved towards one of the tunnels that caved in during the fight. The stones were loose, but the depth of the tunnel was clogged enough that ramming through wouldn't yield any results. Digging through the rubble would take far too long, not to mention the foundation of the tunnel might not hold during the tedium. He wasn't willing to risk the time and effort for something that would just hinder him further. Looking towards the other clogged tunnels, he decided to check the rest of them on the off chance one of them was at least shallow in its rubble. It didn't take him long to find one. The earthy blockage was superficial enough that he was able to peek through the spaces between the stones and see clear to the other side. Taking a couple of steps back, Dumah prepared himself, grounding his feet into the cave floor and flexing his stone-like muscles. With a sudden rush, he charged forward and rammed through the clogged exit, causing stones to shoot and scatter down the tunnels. After the incredible display of strength displayed, the tunnel behind Dumah refilled once again due to shock of the impact and the lack of structure beneath. Dumah straightened himself slowly before he turned his gaze behind him to the newly filled exit. He smirked for a moment, before saying, "I will never understand their suicidal lives." With that, Dumah gently dusted himself off, and proceeded down the tunnel, hoping to make some progress. -o-v-o-v-o-v-o-v-o- His trek through the labyrinthine mines were as lengthy and irritating as it were when he first wandered through the makeshift halls. Dumah recounted that he made five different left turns and seven right turns, on two T-intersections and one crossroad, all within the span of an hour. Sure, along the way, he would find a detour every now and then, but all they led to were abandoned hovels picked clean of resources. There was very little point in staying in such small and ignored pockets in the earth. When coming to a new path, he was sure to mark each turn he took, but quickly found many of the paths chosen were made for no other reason than to double back to the forks in the road. It was as if the tunnel networks were made by the blind, whom had no sense of direction. Then again, he mused, One could eventually give up on proper navigation if they remained down here for too long. Upon finally finding a proper path to take, his unfortunate luck presented him with yet another fork in his trek, this time leading in five directions. He cursed inwardly, namely to the fool or fools that made these tunnels. Not just for the nonsensical design or the abundance of pointless pathways, but for the lack of directions indicating which way leads where. He sighed to himself, exasperated, wishing that he honestly would have remained burning in a torrent of fire forever. Or at least land in a more manageable hell than what he was experiencing. At his wits end, and refusing to care at this point, Dumah picked a direction at random, and simply kept moving. With little else keeping him occupied as he cared less and less, his mind began to wander once again. He began thinking about his life back in Nosgoth. Specifically, how he ruled his city. He was iron clad, decisive, and ruthless in rule. His children were also as orderly and strong as he, and had the numbers to boot. He was invincible, nigh a god, and upon reflection, entirely arrogant. He lost his people and his city to the dregs of his world. Mere humans. The empty and decaying halls of the city he left behind ripped through his thoughts to serve the reminder. Not just of his hubris, but of what he really did. Considering the result of his rule, he looked back further. He remembered how he handled his subjects. An iron fist that commanded order, obedience, diligence and strength, all to have it be reflected in his subjects. No, he thought solemnly, if I had inspired those traits, my city, my people, would still be thriving. It was then that he realized exactly what he did when he ruled. The taste of the souls he sipped an hour ago came rushing back upon his revelation. Dumah's actions, his arrogance and pride, broke them. His children didn't respect him, only feared him. Feared the tyrannical rule he posed, feared the consequences of not being perfect enough for their King, and feared the prospect and potential punishment of failure. The eyes of his sons and daughters stared at him within the machinations of his mind, echoing silent terror, degrading them day by day as Dumah boasted how great they were all those years. Dumah faltered and snapped out of his epiphany as he heard sounds in the distance. Focusing down the darkness, he noticed a battalion of forms marching in his direction. More of those miserable mutts were coming to hinder his progress, and he was tired of the conflict. Dumah stopped, and thought of alternatives, and swiftly decided hindering their advance with the use of the shoddy tunnel work would do just fine. Summoning his strength, Dumah then uppercut the ceiling above him, and quickly began retreating as the tunnel caved in on itself and clogged the passage. Returning to the five-way fork, he listened closely to any distant sounds coming from deep within each path. Sure enough, he could hear the one battalion he trapped dig through the blockage he left behind. On top of that, he could hear more dogs in armor coming from three of the four remaining directions. Taking the path of least resistance, Dumah quickly made his way to the silent tunnel, which was the second one to his far right. Upon entering the path, he turned around and struck the ceiling at the opening, causing yet another controlled cave in. Once Dumah was satisfied with the obstruction, he continued down the passageway in earnest, keeping a diligent ear on the two other tunnels that were at either side of the one he trekked. However, his decision tackled at his sanity the moment he saw something he honestly wished was behind him at this point. The path he picked was yet another dead end. Dumah stopped in body, mind, and soul, unable to handle the situation immediately. He simply stared, aghast to the turn of events. The road of least resistance, the way he chose to avoid dealing with those broken creatures that stood no chance against him anyway, was impassable. He chuckled. It was a light gurgle that slowly evolved into something manic. He reached the end of his patience. He was done with constant tests on his own hubris. He was done believing himself better. He was simply done. Abrupt in ceasing his laughter, he balled his clawed hand into a fist, and pulverized the wall to his left clean into the next tunnel. With a mighty roar that could terrify dragons, he moved as fast as he could through the new route. Hearing the sounds of frightened but determined soldiers behind him, Dumah swiftly cracked the ceiling above him with a well placed strike, and clogged the tunnel at his back. The raging ex-king continued to move in haste until he could hear more dogs in the distance. With quick thinking, he clogged the path before him with another earth shattering whack, then destroyed the wall to his left to hop to a new path. Far enough from the battalion that would have come from the tunnel he was using now, he opted to simply keep moving over stopping to cause another cave in. While time wasn't an issue, it was entirely possible that any further destruction might cause a total collapse of the networks, due to the damage he had inflicted to its already poorly maintained structure. Dumah kept the pace for a good ten minutes before he could finally see a strong light at the passage's mouth. With the prospect of an exit in mind, he picked up on speed, intending to escape this hell. To his dismay, his hopes were crushed as he merely found yet another excavation, one significantly larger than the last he encountered. Said mining operation was very likely in progress before Dumah stepped in, but upon entering, everything stopped at once. Dumah got a good look at what was before him. Beaten down, high strung, desperate, and hopeless canines of a similar design to the guards lined the walls as their pickaxes dug into the stone. Though their dirt covered, matted, and worn bodies had faced their work, every single head turned to Dumah's direction with every functioning eye trained on him. He could smell the forlorn nature of these beings, and couldn't help but feel pity after encountering it yet again. Perhaps when this irritatingly long journey started, he believed only a handful of them were this damaged. But now it seemed more likely they all were. Unconsciously, he took a gentle step forward, and the effect of such a movement was instant. Every single dog that was there to dig dropped whatever they had in hand and ran, terrified, screaming, and howling out of the dig site. Their rapidly declining numbers nearly emptied out the massive room as they left behind tools and a handful of confused guard dogs that were once among the crowd. Two of the remaining twelve dogs barked at the rest before following the fleeing workers. It was obvious to Dumah what they were doing, but he payed no mind. They won't make it back in time. He stepped forward, causing all but three of them to frightfully reel back in response, their quivering spears being held in futile defense. The bravest ones advanced with caution, but Dumah knew what they were thinking. In numbers lie strength, and they hope that the fact itself would be a deterrent. Under less specific situations perhaps their thesis would prove consistent. It was time to show them the folly of their ways. Dumah stepped forth again, and grinned at the approaching guards. Said dogs thrust their spears in a desperate reaction, only to find in utter horror that they merely crinkled and snapped upon impacting his breastplate. Their faces sunk, turning ghost white under their fur as their eyes trailed down to their broken weapons. Annoyed, Dumah moved forward swiftly, and swatted the three attackers with one swing. Their bodies flew like rag dolls in the air, stopping only to collide with the ground or the wall, and even then they bounced a little before becoming still. Upon that moment, the tension in the air snapped entirely. In a mad rush, the remaining guards charged forward to avenge their fallen comrades. Dumah dodged nimbly from the attack, letting his smile grow wider. Yes, he thought, fight for them. Fight for what you believe in. Show me you give a damn. Show me that you face your fears head on. One diamond dog pivoted upon its initial attack, and thrust its spear at Dumah's head. The vampire lord batted it away excellently, taking care to not move too fast. He then struck the dog in its chest with a well placed punch, pushing the mutt backwards. The other six backed off quick enough to avoid getting bowled over by the stumbling and ultimately falling soldier. Two of them then split of the group, flanking the left, while one did the same but flanked the right. Two more of them advanced, keeping their spears brandished, while the last one backed off. Dumah was intrigued enough to remain still, just to see what they were planning. It happened all at once. The dogs that flanked attacked at different points, aiming for the openings in his armor. Under his arm, behind his knee, and at his neck, while the other two jabbed to force Dumah into one of the other three if he decided to step forward. A decent tactic, but Dumah wasn't going to let them succeed so easily. Deciding to crush the intimidation side of their move, Dumah ducked and advanced on his aggressors, having avoided being jabbed by the other attackers in the process. Swatting the spears to either side, he circled the swinging arc of his arms back down to the assailants. Rather, that's what he was aiming for, before he noticed something coming his way. In reaction, he retracted his attack and crossed his arms in front of him. A spear that was aimed directly for his eye slammed tip first against his left gauntlet, bouncing off the metal with a clang before tumbling to the ground. The distraction was long enough for the diamond dogs in front of Dumah to retreat to regroup with the one that threw the spear. However, blind sighted by the sudden attack, the massive vampire failed to defend against his foes from behind. Taking their opportunity, they repeated their previous move with gusto, landing perfect shots at his exposed, greenish skin. Unfortunately for them, the blades of the spears barely cut through his impossibly tough hide, sinking barely a small fraction into the flesh. Dumah, slowly uncovering his head, began to laugh as he straightened himself out. He chuckled lowly. "Good, good." He cooed, "I had almost lost hope in you lot, especially after my last few encounters, but your efforts please me greatly." He smiled, turning his head to the left, catching a visibly shaking guard dog back away in abject horror. "Oh, do not sully my praise with that face," he said as he reached for the back of his neck, gripped the spear that flopped lazily out of the shallowly pricked skin, and pulled it out with little effort. Dumah retrieved the other two spears that clung desperately to him with the same careless abandon. With all three in his hands, he turned to the owners that remained behind him, and easily crushed the weapons from tip to base like dust sculptures in front of them. "The only complaint I have is that your equipment is simply too ill crafted. Humans utilized better tools than you have used on me, and they are mere dregs." Dumah felt his body lightly lurch forward as the sound of thick heavy metal collided with his armored back. He laughed proudly. "Taking the opportunity of a surprise attack while I am lost in my own lesson?" He turned from the defenseless trio to see the spear thrower now brandishing a chipped pickaxe. The dog dropped his impromptu weapon before falling to his rump, mouth agape. "I will grant you that plan of action, but now I'm afraid this facade has gone on long enough. Now," he growled, as he summoned up his strength within, "allow me to show you the power of a king." With that, Dumah stomped the ground, causing the room to shake. While the other five dogs struggled to keep on their hind paws, the vampire made his move. At speeds unheard of by practiced intellects and athletes, Dumah rushed to the downed guard dog. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the mutt by the armor, crinkling the metal within his grip, and launched it at the one to his left. Twisting around after the launch, he backhanded the remaining dog in the chest. Facing the last three dogs now, he catapulted himself forward, moving towards the right most guard dog standing, and swept its legs out from underneath it with his right leg. Using his own momentum, Dumah swung his right arm towards the dog, and grabbed it by the hind legs before it hit the ground. Rising back up, the vampire king pitched his living morning star in an upward moving arc, striking the next dog in line, and let go of his foe turned tool in the process. As he cast himself forward once again, Dumah bypassed the two falling dogs, stopped and pivoted on his right leg, and unleashed his left leg in a brutal side kick. The impact cracked the armor of the guard dog and embedded the canine into the thankfully softer soil of that particular spot in the cave walls. The bodies of his previous attackers finally landed with a bounce and a clang before finally resting in the dust. Dumah brushed himself off and straightened back up. He smiled at the handy work around him. They certainly performed admirably, he mused, I would be proud to call them my subjects. Perhaps one day. Dumah then took note of his surroundings. The damage was minimal despite his cave shaking stomp and the one dog in the wall, and he could hear eleven heartbeats. "Wait," he paused, "eleven?" He turned to the source of the odd one out and noticed a small tunnel that had a rail track running through. It was certainly far too small for anything the size of the various guard dogs he encountered, so it was not used for travel. Listening closely, he could hear the gentle clops of hoofsteps against wood and iron, accompanying the sounds of squeaking rust. Any trace of mirth that he had from the fight fell away from his face as he approached the small opening from the side. From out of the darkness came a familiar figure, disheveled in mane and coat, and bound in a leather strap harness which roped around her barrel, neck and mouth. Said harness was attached to an empty cart that was likely filled prior to her arrival. Her facial features betrayed her emotions, with the sense of defeat and despair written in her downtrodden eyes. Darkened streaks permeated her cheeks, and a small hiccup escaped her mouth. It was as if she has been like this for a while, and only recently stopped shedding tears. As she stepped into the dimmed light of the dig sight, she kept her eyes low and swiveled her ears for a moment. Dumah stepped forth, looking down upon the small and pathetic creature before him. She remained unmoving as he slowly approached until his shadow cast over her. Her face scrunched in confusion before she looked up. A gasp of shock escaped her as she reared and fumbled back, tripping over the very straps that bound her, and falling to her back, tangled in the tethers. She gazed to the darkened form of the vampire before her, seeing no savior in his harrowing appearance and blood red eyes. How could she? Her last encounter was nothing short of antagonistic, she believed, and now he stands here at the peak of her misery. Her own self doubt continued to build, as her instincts of survival, especially against predators, slowly surfaced. Dumah's next action didn't help ease her stressed nature in the slightest, as he leaned down towards her, his razor sharp claws outstretched. She shut her eyes, expecting the worst. The only noise she heard was the sound of fraying leather, followed by the sensation of her bindings slacking around her. With caution, she slowly opened her eyes and looked around her. Shifting a little, the tethers fell away from her. Finally free, she slowly shuffled away from the trappings, careful not to get entangled. She looked back towards the shadowed figure of the vampire before her. Despite the ominous red glow of his eyes, she couldn't help but notice something softer about them. "Rise," he commanded, speaking softly. She did so, kicking the bindings away from her out of spite for them, before looking back up to her liberator. The moment her eyes finally meet his directly, she falters and steps back, remembering her attitude she presented to him a while ago. "Is this how you behave when one rescues you?" he berated. Rarity huffed at his remark, but ultimately looked away from him, turning slightly red from the truth. "It's not," she started, fumbling her words, "It's not that. I just..." She couldn't say it. She couldn't say she was afraid to apologize to him. Not just on a pride level, as minor as it was, but on a level of uncertainty. She didn't know what he'd do or how he'd react. After all, he clearly didn't belong in this world. Dumah scoffed at the lack of response and turned away, moving to the only opening available. He stopped one last time and turned towards the unmoving mare. "Are you or are you not following? Make your choice in haste, for I do not tolerate dawdlers." With that, he began to exit. Rarity stood there for a moment, dumbfounded at his frank nature, and even more dumbfounded that he offered to let her follow, despite their shaky and forced companionship. Maybe, she thought, he isn't so far off from a gentlecolt after all. Upon letting that thought swim through her head, Rarity slowly followed after him, leaving behind the chamber of unconscious curs.