The hairless Dwarf was seated on his obsidian liter. Below him were two sets of Orcs hoisting him high in the air. His skin was cracked and peeling as if he spent long hours in front of a forge. He observed the battlefield through hooded eyes. This would be the last stretch before his kind could return to the surface. The goblinoid races were quite adaptable according to the Goblin Biomancer. The fingers of his right hand rapped against his runic mallet. While useful, the Goblins were just a means to an end. After the exodus a century ago he and six other Dwarves were left as exiles. There rune carving expertise allowed them to claim a corner of the dwarven ancient lands for themselves. The remaining lands were occupied by the goblinoid races. Goblins, Orcs, and Trolls with all variations in between roamed unchecked through the Deep Cavern.

Regularly one clan or another would try to revolt against the remaining Dwarves that claimed dominion over all of it. They would be dealt with harshly only for events to repeat themselves in another generation. That was until Lee Miners found a strange goblin in an ancient temple. He was being magically held in stasis surrounded by large tanks of liquid biomass. It was this discovery that allowed Lee to break the constant cycle of challenges to Dwarven rule and unite the disparate Goblin clans under his banner. This time, it would be Lee that would triumph against those Dwarves who escaped to the surface.

“My lord. Can you hear me? I said the Champion of Chimera has taken the field,” repeated Pumus, looking up from the altar.

Lee Miners shook off his musings and smiled.

“Send the Berilith to intercept, but don’t kill him. He just needs to be maimed enough for transport,” replied Lee from under his hood.

“It is still struggling with the war golem. I’ll send a detachment of Black Guard to assist… There is another war golem, my lord. Our reports said they had no war golem riders anymore. How is this possible?” asked a panicked Pumus.

“You worry too much Witchdoctor. Everything is still going to plan. In fact, it is time for me to attend to our mighty Hipag in person. I travel to the Deep Well. I trust you can handle things here,” commented Lee before he urged the Orcs holding him up to turn back to the entrance of the Deep Cavern.

Deacon stomped his way toward Alfred who had yet to finish off the Cyclops. Unit commanders at Deacon’s feet continued yelling at their troops to make way for the second war golem. Deacon found it extremely amusing that polearm weapon in his right hand wasn’t trying to leap from his grasp. He half expected after initiating Ghost in the Machine, that the weapon would go skittering across the battlefield laying waste to hundreds before it came to a stop. Something about them not being his hands must be preventing the Bane from activating.

It looked like the Cyclops had both hands clasped together and was repeatedly pounding down on the metal head of Alfred. It was slowly but surely deforming inward. If the pilot seat was housed there, whoever was driving would surely be dead. Alfred was no ordinary pilot. Somewhere within all the cogs and gears was a black and green cylinder about eight inches high. It’s arcane dimensional energies permeating the structure surrounding it.

Deacon managed to squash large groups of Goblin soldiers on his loping jog over to Alfred. When he was finally within striking distance the Cyclops stopped pounding Alfred’s head and looked up at him. It roared in defiance finally kicking Alfred’s arms free of his legs. Immediately recognizing the symbol blazed into the Cyclops chest, Deacon attempted to impale it with the sharp end of the war golems weapon. The Cyclops reached down with its right arm and grabbed the shaft of the weapon mid thrust. Deacon was shocked. It then yanked hard on the weapon which launched Deacon’s machine body straight at it. Completely willing to bet on inertia, Deacon brought his right leg up to pump kick it in the chest. His foot slammed home staggering the cyclops for a second. The slam of Deacon’s armored foot echoed off the walls of the cavern. Alfred was not idle during the first exchange. He pulled back his own long weapon and cracked it into the back of the Cyclops knees.

This caused the Cyclops to stumble and fall back over Alfred’s kneeling body. Deacon then took the opportunity to launch himself into the air and bring the pointy end of his weapon down on the Cyclops. It pierced its chest before Deacon felt the ground stop his momentum. Blood poured from the wound as the Cyclops gripped the shaft. Its skin began to drain of all color as blood fountained like a geyser from its body. The effects of his blood river title paying off again. Deacon and Alfred were both pelted with large stones and thrown javelins. Several of the javelins were hurled with expert marksmanship. They found purchase in various joints and critical sections of the machinery. Deacon couldn’t believe it as his movements became more hurky jerky and less fluid. He’d just repaired these golems yesterday. How dare they waste this artifact’s power?

“Alfred. You good?” asked Deacon as he swept his left leg through a group of enemies about to fire more missile weapons at them.

“I’ll be fine, but this platform isn’t going anywhere. The legs have ceased to function. I should be able to bar anymore soldiers from navigating around the stone slab for some time yet,” replied an exhausted sounding, Alfred.

“We need to end this before all these green bastards make it to that city. Ralph showed up to help finally,” quipped Deacon but Alfred was in no laughing mood.

Deacon looked to his right to see a new surge of Black Guard warriors attacking the defenders on top of the slab. He stomped his way over crushing all enemies in his path. Walking required more concentration as something in his right hip joint was damaged. Deacon swung his weapon through a charging contingent of Orcs, crushing some and maiming others. Deacon’s arrival, even in a partially functioning war golem finally broke the back ranks. Goblins and Orcs ran in all directions while Ralph’s soldiers scythed their way through them. Fights turned into skirmishes before a full retreat was called.

This turned out to be a feint as a wedge formation of bulbous orange Goblins sprinted toward the Deep Dweller defenders who just now securing the space in front of the slab facing the entrance to the Deep Cavern.

“Crossbowmen, fire at will. Bring them down!” ordered Ralph before launching a gleaming white Hallowed Blade at the front ranks.

Ralph’s timing was off since he stopped giving orders. The first few orange Goblins burst upon contact with the defender’s weapons. Several of them out right melting the armor onto the Deep Dwellers bodies from the explosions. Bolts flew across the remaining spaces detonating more of them before they were close enough to do mass damage. Finally, Deacon belly flopped atop a dozen of them who had staggered their starts to arrive just after the first set exploded. They detonated below the outer shell of the war golem. Debilitating damage was done to the machine. Deacon couldn’t get it to push off the ground anymore. That’s when a small white orb began floating around his dented and cracked head.

“Deacon is that you?” asked Ignis.

“Ignis? What are you doing here? It isn’t safe, go back,” shouted Deacon as he canceled the use of his power.

Deacon’s green light coalesced atop the great machine allowing him to get a good look over the battlefield. The Orcs were regrouping for a counter offensive. Alfred was just playing whack a mole with any enemy that wandered too close. Ralph was reorganizing his troops. Deacon turned back just in time to see a ray of blacklight energy slice up the side of the war golem in an arcing direction toward him. He snatched Ignis out of the sky and jumped to the opposite side of the now immobile machine. The beam of energy split off top barely missing Deacon’s right shoulder.

Deacon knew that energy. He’d seen it before. Back when he created that weeping wall. That stretched out goblin witch doctor was here. Knowing that he was between the enemy and the allied troops he would have to hold out for Ralph’s team to regroup. He checked his status really quick. Soul energy was at one hundred and seventy five percent out of three hundred. Deacon chocked that up to all those jumps and the cost of Ghost in the Machine.

That should be plenty of energy considering the battlefield was littered with meandering souls right now. The downside was he didn’t have time to truly focus on his breathing technique. He would have to use his Dragon Scale Armor. That would cost him one hundred and fifty soul energy. Not exactly cost efficient since it would only leave him with twenty five soul energy. Being dead with more soul energy wasn’t better.

“Deacon, I have to tell you something—” pleaded Ignis before Deacon cut him off.

“Not right now. I’m trying to figure a way out of this. My whole Kaiju thing got ruined,” explained Deacon distractedly.

Deacon thought he saw something high up in the cavern, but it was too far out of the range of his Soul Sight. Then a black oozing mass splatted down on top of the still cooling corpse of the Cyclops. The liquid pooled around its head and shoulders. The body then began to twitch and writhe. Alfred managed to drag his metal frame body away from the Cyclops. Suddenly the body sat up at the waist. Its head was completely covered in liquid black ichor. Two segmented eye stalks rose up from the sides of its neck looking in opposite directions. Then it spoke in a deep haunting rumble.

“Where is the white haired climber?”