The word "rock", however, does not inspire much confidence in the higher end numbers in terms of the way the ship moved away from said dock and, hence, the distance travelled. Of course, "rock a warship away from its dock" could mean anything from a few meters to dozens of meters. Certainly, Homer ( Illiad and Odyssey) describes ships as carrying only a few dozen men to a hundred (for reference, biremes, the two-bank ships, could carry a 150-180 oarsmen alone, to say nothing of hoplites), and these ships would be more in line with what would exist during Kratos' time (that is, classical Greece). Either way, classical Greeks probably used a penteconter. Certainly, fleets of triremes were still in use for war until as late as the Peloponnesian War and the era of the Delian League (circa 400BCE).
KHARN VS EREBUS FULL
Triremes (that is, speaking of the three-rowed oar arrangement) weren't in full use as warships until about 700-800BCE. Of course, if "Kratos is as fast as a god" is the best one can get, then it is as much a useless feat as all of those "he is a god" statements, especially since we have seen how fast gods move, which is. Even his second response does not affirm that the lightning has the properties of a real bolt of lightning. All he said was a wishy-washy "Kratos is as fast as a god", which does not, in spite of the fan's observation that the question is a simple "yes or no" question, mean the same thing as "yes, it is a real lightning bolt". Mark did not confirm that the lightning was "real" lightning (that is, with the speed of a real lightning bolt). You may want to read the tweet again on closer inspection, that's not what Mark said at all. Turning unbelieving eyes downwards, he saw where his arm now ended at the wrist." Blood leaked from the chewed veins nested in the meat of his severed limb. His hand was on the deck, several meters away.
He reached to touch the wound with a hand that was no longer there. Pain flared across his chest, hot and urgent, matching the thick throb of his smashed face. Erebus was on the deck before he knew how. Kharn weaver aside from every blow, quicker than a blink, surely quicker than muscles could ever follow. His Crozius trailed killing lightning, buzzing furiously as it thrummed through empty air again and again. He attacked this time, showing the speed and skill that allowed him to hold his own against Lucius of the Emperor's Children and Loken of the Luna Wolves. Kharn looked down at him, clearly allowing time for the Chaplain to recover his Crozius.Įrebus rose, his mace in his hands again. He had never seen this before, not in any of the paths of possibility. He looked up at Kharn from the ground and saw his death in the Worl Eater's eyes. Erebus's maul clang-skidded across the deck he took a fist to he throat and a boot to the stomach, knocking him back with enough force to send him crashing onto the bloodstained iron grille work. This was a Kharn they'd never seen- not even on the field of battle.Īnother three blows, delivered with the same blinding speed. Kharn walked forward, gunning Gorechild's rigger. The Chaplain threw himself backwards, Crozius up high to guard. No one could move as fast as Kharn moved. The third: Gorechild tasted first blood, ripping across the Chaplain's chest, carving a canyon of flesh over the dense subdermal armor of the warrior's black carapace torso implant.Īll of this happened in the time it took Erebus to blink. The first: Kharn smashed the maul aside with the flat of his new axe.bthe second: he cannoned a headbutt into Erebus's nose, breaking cartilage with a wet crunch. That interruption was the only answer that Kharn would give, and Erebus raised his Crozius in reply. Gorechild revved for the first time since it's rebirth, eating air with the throaty snarl of an apex predator.
Several seconds beat in silence, before the Word Bearer's lips curled in a soft, indulgent smile. More fists beat against chests.Įrebus regarded Kharn with cold, composed eyes.
Some of the crowd breathed in, showing their shock as the humans they once were. The captain was stripped to the waist, as were all the warriors present. He'd chained it to his bare wrist in imitation of the Nucerian gladiators, whose bones he'd seen and honored mere days before. The axe in Kharn's hand was Gorechild, toothed by mica-dragons and once thrown from the hands of a Primarch. The captain said two words to the atria rio centurion. The crowd, at the edge of cheering for the first warrior, fell silent at the sight of the second.
The World Eater still hadn't had his throat mechanics repaired, leaving him speechless, but he grinned and nodded in place of words, and moved back into the crowd.ĭelvarus stepped forwards.
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