by A Uscila
With a deep frown - he extended his right hand towards the mass below, an unexpected reaction soon coming to view from the peculiar motion.
At the very spot of directed attention - an explosion took place, as a dead body erupted into a gruesome display of blood, flesh and bone. An invisible force tearing apart those in immediate proximity, while those who were further away - were forced to experience the sharp ends of numerous projectiles. Shattered and fractured pieces of bone serving as shrapnel that littered those around, causing great, if not fatal, harm.
Soon after, those that were killed due to the explosion - rose up with renewed vigor. After Embalmer flicked his fingers a few times with a broad grin that replaced the frown in almost dysfunctional swiftness.
He repeated a similar display a few more times - as various explosions took place throughout the field of battle. Roars of pure agony and rage erupting in similar haste as the explosions themselves - as those caught within it were forced to suffer through its effects.
Seemingly unfazed - if not spurred towards greater feats of crazed abandon, the horde continuously slammed into the low wooden walls. Their attempts completely failing to knock the defenses over - if that was their initial wish.
Some tried to climb over their own allies - be it dead or alive, just to reach the top. Some succeeded, even though mostly in the form of barely hanging off the ledge - doomed to be hacked apart from above by those defending.
Of course, the invaders did not come unprepared - as a number of crudely built ladders came into view from beyond the mist. Carried over the heads of the hordes below - its members having a hard time to fulfill the intention with all the falling allies. Be it due to projectiles, explosions or raised former friends, who were proving hard to put down once more.
Still - it did seem like it would be merely a matter of time before the ladders were going to be in place and ready for boarding. Seeing as those defending were sorely outnumbered and ever so slightly frightened to continuously peek over the walls. After all - a stray arrow could easily end up as a replacement for an eye. An unwelcome exchange.
Dire did the situation seem and Embalmer, forced by circumstance, ended up requesting reinforcements.
He quickly turned and walked towards the opposite edge of the fortification - facing those huddled together within the fort.
“There is no escape and there is no salvation! Thus, you have two choices!” - He shouted, loudly enough for at least most of those below to hear - “You either pick up a weapon and fight the goblin invasion, or you end up facing horrors far beyond those you experienced here! Those who choose to fight, might get back their freedom!” - He finally added, providing a small spark of hope - where there seemed to be none of it moments ago.
As if that was it, he quickly turned back towards the enemy forces - already glimpsing a few readied ladders in the corner of his vision. Those little buggers worked quickly indeed, as a number of them were already busy scampering up. Their brief ascension ending with a spear in the throat - coming from below, as a few individuals of quick wit positioned themselves right under the makeshift siege equipment, tucked away against the low parapet. Talk about no reward for all that work.
Being without patience - Embalmer seemed to stake his money on offense, as most of his idle undead were put to good use. Multiple lifeless husks climbing onto the walls in the same manner as their predecessors - only to go over the edge right onto the unsuspecting heads of the confused goblins.
Once the order was given, he froze into a stupor - both hands extending towards the field in front. Darting arrows passed to and fro - some striking the frozen elf, who seemed unaffected by the damage. His, supposedly, channeled spell uninterrupted and successfully performed within a few more seconds.
Grass withered and the earth blackened in a quickly enlarging circle that spread out beneath the short feet of numerous goblins. Encompassing them and their fallen allies - which turned into an expected outcome. Bodies rose, serving a new master in un-death and turning onto their former brethren. Once again, caught unawares - some fell quickly beneath numerous hands. Clawed and ripped apart in a gruesome display of savagery.
Without delay, Embalmer stepped towards the edge - his right hand extending into a medium size bag that hung from his waste. From it? He took out a shaft of blackened material - its length way beyond the visible capacity of the container. Out came a bent shaft, ending with a long, dark metal edge, its smooth surface reflecting the few strands of light that seeped through the mist. A scythe - the reaper’s favorite weapon. Its form twisting into a gothic letter L - the length of it almost identical with Embalmers height.
Grinning like a madman, Embalmer pointed towards a newly raised minion - only to see it become consumed by dark matter, quickly turning to ash afterwards. His own body on the other hand - for the briefest of moments, was covered by a transparent red, the grin getting seemingly wider from within the reinvigorated complexion.
In a display of complete insanity, Embalmer jumped over the ledge and straight into the fray - wielding his scythe in a blood-churning display of pure perfection in farming technique. Cutting the goblins as if they were no more than tall grass. Severed body parts and sprays of dark blood scattering about the field, his bloodied figure shinning with a transparent blue after each swing.
Those that were felled, rose again - though there was only so much an upper body alone is capable of, thus they were not of much help. Serving as no more than temporary detergent from the horde enveloping Embalmer in a wave of frenzied brutality.
Thump, thump continued the beating – now an accelerated drumming, melding into the background. Embalmer’s swings failing to match the pace of the ominous sound. With each swing, the black reaper advanced - until he stood on the opposite edge of his so called “reanimation circle”. The blackened earth beneath soaked with blood and littered with body parts. An oasis of death, amidst a sea of horror. Those within the large circle were long disemboweled and reanimated to a higher cause, as the mass of minions started advancing into every direction - threatening to tear apart those still living. Which did not go too well, seeing as those felled outside the circle were not reanimated. Due to that, the line of conflict kept on shifting back and forth, as the minions fell one by one. Their reserves quickly thinning out due to the reduced reinforcement rate and the lack of dead bodies to rise.
Soon enough, the reaper did notice the dire circumstance and decided to retreat deeper into the circle, calling back a few of the minions, while turning others into ash in quick succession. A fading red pulsing from within the black sea every now and then. Before he could retreat enough though – an unexpectedly aggressive assailant jumped at him. Wielding a scimitar as large as himself – a goblin jumped with an over-head slice prepared with all the might his little arms could muster. His pale flesh strained from the effort put into the attack.
What a poorly made tactical decision – seeing as the fool was a bare meter away from former kin. Its lifeless body sprawled at the very edge of the dark circle. That goblin would regret his lack of perception soon enough.
Seconds into the struggle – a long wound opened up down from Embalmers shoulder, spraying blood and serving as quite the display of supposed success to the goblin. Yet, once his scrawny little feet touched the ground – a sudden explosion from behind made him lose that footing. Ripping apart his poorly armored back due to the sheer force of the explosion – shrapnel serving as a nice little addition to the unexpected experience. Embalmer? He was wounded - from the sword, but once the explosive skill was activated – a timely arrival of reanimated fleshy-shields served to drink in all the flying bone fragments. Embalmers lean frame huddling in between the small bodies of his timely defenders.
Red engulfed the dark skinned elf, a fracture of a second after the shrapnel flew by – one of the nearby minions crumbling to ash. That blood dripping wound that ran down his chest closing up in frightening haste. Disappearing together with the fading light.
/> Merciless and efficient – the Embalmer quickly stood up, only to swing his death bringing scythe over-head – its tip seeping through both flesh and bone of the stunned assailant, pinning him to the ground and ending his miserable attempt at an attack right there and then. Soon, the defeated rose from the dead, only to serve Embalmer that the goblin so recently opposed.
Without facing any more rude interruptions – Embalmer resumed his quick retreat, only to glance around in search for something. His sight peering through the gaps between the risen and their mutilated bodies that surrounded him.
Moments away - he pointed at a few visible corpses at the very edge of his frontier, creating a series of bloody fireworks that maintained the chaos of the battle. Stray pieces of bone shrapnel piercing the recalled minions, who were once again used as quality flesh shields.
As if remembering only now, Embalmer gave a quick glance towards the battlements he was supposed to be protecting. His daredevil move seemingly there to divert attention.
Whether due to his efforts or not – the fort did seem to be handling itself more or less. Their defenders visibly reinforced by various poorly dressed and armed individuals. Women and men that were the very workforce that drove this mining operation - now battling for the chance to preserve their miserable existence. Lifeless bodies falling down from the battlements - cut down by numerous blades from the walls above. Attackers finding it hard to breach the strong resistance above - corpses of their mutilated brethren stacking upon each other at the base of the wooden palisade. Ranks visibly sparser, the occasional patch of trampled ground now visible between the squirming mass of disfigured flesh.
Heck, even his skeletal archers were still alive. At least half their numbers still loosing an endless barrage of arrows - though it was hard to say how long the ammunition would last.
Thump, thump continued on the beating regardless – slowly returning to the occasional powerful beat, that echoed above the heads of those present. Mirroring the heartbeat of the battle as it slowed as if to mirror the falling number of attackers.
Chapter 41
Thump, thump echoed the heartbeat of battle, through the light mist that lingered at the foot of the mountains. A black blob staining its pale color – with the occasional glimpse of a pale red or blue flash within.
Like the tears of the fallen, rain trickled down from the looming clouds above – a lamentation to their sorry fate. Their bodies desecrated and mutilated – some ripped apart and trampled into lumps of disfigured flesh. Some – raised once again, only to mindlessly battle without a care for the continuous damage their soulless physical vessels experienced.
Embalmer – still present within his oasis of blighted and bloodied earth, continued on with his fight. Exploding flesh beyond the circle, while turning his own minions to ash. A strangely captivating display of flashing red and blue, accompanied by bloody fireworks of blood-chilling beauty.
Like a dancer, he moved about – feet creating cracks in the ashy ground, dodging and counterattacking in perpetual sequence, the circle of reanimation now contested territory. Battled for by the living and the dead.
Like a shadow, black skinned appendages moved about in a blur, spinning the scythe like a cyclone of death as the sharp edge cleaved through unfortunate critters with barely a pause in-between the kills. The work no doubt making the reaper proud. A brief flash of pale blue trailed from the victims onto The Embalmer after each kill. While at times it was replaced by red, as the reaper’s avatar waved a free hand about – turning another undead to ash. Rips in his black attire and gaping wounds closing-up with each pulse of the red. Gore and drying blood the only remaining proof of how gruesome of a fight he was participating in. At other times the same gestures produced drastically different results – violent explosions of flesh and bone, creating small zones of carnage in the enemy ranks. Fueling his limitless reinforcements if close enough to the contested territory. Rips in the black cloth and gaping wounds closing off with each pulse of the red. Gore and drying blood the only remaining proof of how gruesome of a fight he was participating in.
Relentless and seemingly unstoppable, he battled – together with the numerous undead, their numbers shifting between too few and just barely enough to hold off the tide of disfigured flesh.
As if that wasn’t enough - an outline of heart-pounding proportions emerged from the lingering mist. Its sheer size easily advancing over the thick ranks of goblins below.
Two times the height of a human and at least three times the width. A deformed mass of muscle and pale flesh, a large mouth filled with sharp, crooked teeth. A potato for a nose and small, beady, bloodthirsty eyes. Facial features far from lovely by human standards, though seemingly kindred to that of a boar. Or an orc.
It wielded a large club, its rounded end covered with bent iron spikes. A weapon of poor craftsmanship and state – yet its size in combination with the wielder’s practically radiating brute force, did serve as quite the blood-churning sight. Various pelts, crudely sewn together covered the massive body of the approaching foe – serving as a meager amount of defense – which would most likely stop an arrow, shot from a hundred feet. By a goblin. Mostly because it wouldn’t reach the ogre to begin with. Goblins can’t shoot that far.
Roaring in a guttural mixture of supposed fury and bloodlust – the creature hastened its pace towards the chosen foe. A display of either hot-headedness or wit. Seeing as the club would turn the poor dark elf into a meat-pie within the first few swings.
Slightly unsettled – Embalmer decided to take-out his saved up trump-cards. Kept hidden for who-knows what reason – seeing as the spell in question certainly wasn’t one of the long-cooldown ones.
He froze in motion – while pointing a slumped palm towards the approaching foe. Soon enough, a blue mist materialized around the overly-large foe – covering both him and everything in close proximity. Only for a moment though – as it quickly disappeared, leaving a visible effect on those present. Every single foe within the previously visible mist of blue, becoming sluggish. Their movement seemingly forced, as their faces strained in effort to fight this unwelcome restriction.
Once that was done and over with, he jumped at the closest foes with dedicated fury – slicing them apart as if his very life depended on it. Which it probably did. Each swing shortening the gap between himself and the slowly approaching giant of a beast.
“They just had to bring an ogre…”- Embalmer mumbled under his breath, face twisted into a mask of frustration and regret. Did not seem like he expected to win this fight.
Once a number of bodies littered the ground between the ogre and himself, Embalmer quickly retreated for a short break. Making distance between himself and the most likely mine-field.
Thump, thump the drumming accelerated once more.
Mindlessly – the roaring ogre closed the short distance, his movements getting more and more fluid. All that visible restriction seemingly fading away.
An issue arose soon after the hasty retreat – as the line of foes present didn’t just stand around doing nothing. Once Embalmer retreated – so did the frontline shift, as goblins swarmed after the retreating necromancer. Their ugly little figures covering up the field of the dead that awaited its bloody detonation.
A swear slipped through smacked lips, the dark elf moments away from slapping his own forehead in exasperation. Seems like he didn’t consider that possibility – which basically took away any hope of victory. His wavering group of undead flesh far from capable of killing a beast of such magnitude.
Lady luck did not stay with her favorites forever though, as she smiled at the frustrated necromancer with her dazzling smile. Like divine favor, numerous feathery projectiles rained down from above – accurately hitting the lumbering oaf and causing quite a bit of visible frustration. Outraged by the sudden attack and threatened by the possibility of being turned into a pincushion, the ogre hastened his steps – an elbow lifted to cover his eyes as if to protect a weakness. Lik
e a raging bull, the ogre advanced in large strides, the mace now waved about like a blind would a walking stick – goblins flying into opposite directions like swatted away flies. It was then that The Embalmer saw his opportunity, for the brute would occasionally clear away the ground and reveal the many deceased at its bottom. With a mad grin and a timely wave of the hand – a chain of explosions rocked the ground beneath, taking away the legs out from under the lumbering beast. With a pained yell and a ground-shaking fall, the foe was down, hands flailing about in a mindless and pointless struggle. One that was quickly put to rest after a few more explosions.
With a wide grin, Embalmer turned his gaze eastward – no doubt trying to identify the owners of those timely projectiles. Eyes drifting across the dark woods that loomed on the eastern side of the battlefield. Their tall frames seeping through the fading mist. A barrage of flashing arrowheads leaving its expanse – skewering goblins with merciless precision.
“Finally…” – Embalmer mumbled, only to turn back towards the ranks of his future victims with renewed vigor.
Reinforcements have arrived.
*******
Willow dashed through the thick green of the forest, her dark cloak fluttering in the wind like leaves. Gently brushing past branches without making a sound. Behind her - trailed numerous female shadows, clothed and armed in a similar fashion - bows slung over their shoulders. Short handles sticking out from waists.
Even though the outstretched procession of female rangers displayed a clearly inferior skill in scrutiny, when comparing to their lead - the view was unsettling regardless. A tense silence lingering in the air as the group passed.
Willow’s eyes observed the path ahead sharply, seemingly absorbed in the journey. Wary of any unexpected encounters. Yet her head was in turmoil. Like always - the blame resting upon the usual culprit and frequent offender - Wail.
