A few yards in front of the altar stood seven Resplendent Crusaders, their golden plate armor gleaming in the light of thousands of candles. They were tall, broad-shouldered men—natural-born warriors, trained in the art of combat from an early age, and indoctrinated in the single-mindedness of religious fanaticism from an even earlier age. They looked so alike that it was difficult to tell one from the other.
“Who goes there?” one boomed, his baritone voice resounding in sonorous echoes through the vast, empty cathedral. “What cursed heretics dare to violate the sanctity of this space on the holiest of holy nights?”
These chumps sounded like they were as fun to be around as the paladin I’d killed the day I met Elyse. They certainly seemed to take themselves as seriously as he did.
“Oh, we’re just here for a meeting with Bishop Nabu,” I said calmly.
The Crusader who had spoken held up an accusatory finger, pointing at my skeletons. “You claim to be a friend of the bishop, heathen, yet you bring the foul products of necromancy into this hallowed place! Do not take us for fools!”
“You don’t have to shout. I’m not deaf, you know. And if you think these guys are bad, wait till you meet Fang.” I grinned as I flipped Grave Oath in my hand.
“The punishment for defiling a holy place is death. You heathens and the apostate whore will have your tainted souls cleansed by our blades!”
The Resplendent Crusaders moved as one, whipping their huge tower shields up in front of them while drawing their golden longswords from their scabbards. They all whispered a command in unison, and their tower shields began to glow with a golden light.
“What the fuck did they just do?” I whispered to Elyse.
“Their tower shields. They use them to blast out shock waves, knocking their enemies back and bowling them over.”
“You could have mentioned that earlier?”
They advanced in perfect synchronization, using a shield wall formation. The timed stomping of their heavy boots on the marble floor of the cathedral boomed out a deadly, droning rhythm.
“Now, infidels, this hallowed hall shall be purged of your presence.”
“You fellas need to lighten up a little.” I pulled out a throwing star with my left hand. “Maybe lose the corny dialog, or take those helmets off once in a while. I think you’ve been breathing in too much of your own air.”
They steadily advanced while I considered which holy bastard to skewer with my throwing star.
“It’s after midnight on the biggest party night in Erst,” I continued, “and you chumps are sitting around in here circle-jerking over who’s the holiest of them all. Come on, live a little… before you die a little!”
I flung the throwing star at the closest Resplendent Crusader, who was nearly 20 yards away from me at this point. At that distance, I could hit a target as small as a penny a hundred times in a row, and the target I’d just aimed for was the eye slit of the Crusader’s great helm, the only weakness I could spot in their full plate armor.
The star zipped through the air, its trajectory perfect. Had my target been any ordinary man, the projectile would have plunged into his eyeball before his brain had registered that I’d thrown it. These Resplendent Crusaders, however, were no ordinary men.
Quick as a flash, my target jerked his head to the side, reacting a mere millisecond after the throwing star left my hand. The projectile sent up a shower of sparks as it clanged against the lower cheek of his great helm, ricocheting harmlessly away before disappearing behind the altar.
“Your putrid trinkets are useless against the Lord of Light. Prostrate yourself before the altar of the True God, and he will absolve you of your sins. And we will grant you merciful deaths.”
“Isu fuck me to death,” I muttered. “Your theatrics are worse than mine.”
I stuck two fingers in my mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Immediately, a subtle rumble began throbbing beneath my feet and vibrating across the entire cathedral floor. The Crusaders must have felt it too, because their metronomic advance faltered.
A sound like the deep booming of a massive drum reverberated through the space. I looked over my shoulder at a large archway leading to the main stairs down to the cellars. There, I saw the silhouette of Fang charging toward us.
“Gentlemen,” I said calmly as the five-ton zombie lizard charged with a roar down the central aisle of the cathedral, “meet Fang.”
The Crusaders glanced at each other, clearly unprepared for my greatest creation’s arrival. An undead monster with glowing yellow-green eyes had probably been about the last thing they’d expected to see. I couldn’t blame them for freezing. Most men, even hardened warriors, would probably have turned and fled by now. Not these guys, though. They stood their ground and didn’t move even an inch. Instead, the one who seemed to be their captain, the one who had first yelled at us, bellowed out a sharp command.
“Horns of the ox formation! Skull, slay the beast! Right horn, take the undead warriors! Left horn, slaughter the heretics!”
Moving with impressive precision and fluidity, the Crusaders established a formation with a defensive square at the center and two attacking wings consisting of twin curved lines of warriors fanned out to either side.
“Attack!” roared the captain, who was in the wing closest to myself, Elyse, and Rami.
Fang didn’t give a shit about whatever fancy formation these guys were in, or about what armor, weapons, or shields they were using. He was an undead monstrosity covered in virtually impenetrable armor. With a roar that rattled the cathedral walls and almost blew out the stained glass windows, he barreled headlong into the enemy defensive square at top speed.
The Crusaders bellowed in unison,
