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Chapter 32Book 9: : The Mountain Speaks
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... wave of attackers sent to defend the first gate of the dungeon’s “crucible.” Gore dripped from his axe and him—every inch of his armor was soaked with it, dripping into the widening pool at his feet as the armor’s self-cleaning enchantments worked to sluice it away. Grunting, he hefted Lifedrinker to his shoulder and stepped around the broken, torn remnants of his foes, glaring left and right, hunting for further targets for his rage, hoping that some still lurked among the charnel mounds.
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