by A Uscila
“Well? What are you gaping at? Do your thing!” - Bossy as always, Willow darted towards another approaching foe without delay. Making sure to inflict harm to Wail before going as she ripped out a protruding arrow from the stunned magician’s shoulder without even asking for permission.
“Ouch!” - Was all Wail could say in reply - a glare glued to the backside of the aggressive vixen as she was already upon another enemy. Frustrated, he could only click his tongue as a means to vent - seeing as the given opportunity was too precious to miss.
Frozen - Wail could finally perform the spell in peace, a stray arrow replacing the previous one in his shoulder being the only hindrance. A miniscule one as the warlock continued uninterrupted.
Moments later - as Willow continued her dedicated defense, darting around in attempts to dodge the wide swings performed by heavy men - while exploiting openings.
Surrounded by flashes of light as fire exploded in numerous forms - covered in drifting sparks, Willow immersed herself in bloody violence. Lips twisted in a mad grin as blood splattered from each exchange, and during the height of it - a miracle took place as those deceased were given a second opportunity. A second chance to serve another master in un-life. Seems like Wail’s spell was finally complete.
Rising on plated feet - mutilated, with gaping holes still running with fresh blood - they rose to fight once again. Both the leather clad bandits and the plate wearing soldiers of the twin-serpent. Two arch-enemies united in death - ready to indoctrinate all the rest in their newfound truth.
Wail’s lips twisted into a vicious sneer - as he resumed his usual display of limited magical prowess, while the newly reanimated did the rest. An unstoppable shift in the scales of battle finally taking place - the momentum gripped tightly in Wail’s clutches. Something he was not about to give up easily.
Chapter 51
A curse drifted through the battlefield - quickly drowned out by the deafening noise that filled it. Steel scraped against steel as a yellow-wearing warrior in heavy plate parried a desperate attack carried out by a ragged bandit. Muffled sounds of crunching bone came out every now and then - as sharp edges ripped through skin, flesh and shattered bone. Some fell in a gargling mess, while others retaliated without much reaction – responding with an inhuman ferocity that threatened to rip the opponent limb from limb. Their tenacity maintained by taboo magic that reanimated their battered bodies to begin with.
Jumping around unsteadily - Wail ignored all of it, as he continued to curse about, all of it unheard by the numerous companions surrounding his position. Seeing as most of them were reanimated corpses - with the sole exception of Willow and perhaps - Sorro, who continued to dart around in a furry of charred flesh and boiling blood.
Bent in half - the warlock beat furiously upon the bottom half of his robe with a free hand. Attempting desperately to put out the flames that threatened to spread along its edge.
Obviously, since the discomfort caused by the situation wasn’t enough - Alternative Reality decided to intervene in the form of an earth-shaking explosion. Fire, earth and burning debris scattering about in the near vicinity - as a flaming projectile slammed into the nearby ranks of the yellow invaders. Descending so unexpectedly that Wail was barely able to remain on his feet – for a moment or two. Since moments later, a stray fragment of scorched rock slammed itself into the magician’s cranium. Its force enough to knock the man off his feet.
You have received 355 physical damage.
Received a minor “dazed” effect for 5 seconds.
“God damn it!” - A sad reaction, displayed by a helpless man. Without even trying to get up – Wail made sure to put out the fire on his attire first. All of which was somehow allowed to take place by some sort of miracle – as not a single foe managed or even attempted to get close. Heck, even the flying about arrows didn’t intervene – each and every single projectile falling everywhere except on Wail.
Once the, most likely self-afflicted, fire was out - Wail got up, dusted himself off and was about to get back into the scuffle taking place all around. An open palm with a floating ball of flame in the middle of it all readied up for launch.
That is – until the warlock's carefully maintained concentration was disturbed by three consecutive tugs at his baggy clothes. Curious and quite annoyed – Wail turned towards the supposed cause of it and locked eyes with Vivian. An arrow flying through the previous position of his balding scalp. Timely.
“What?” – Failing to give away the obvious annoyance at least in tone, Wail stared at the ignorant little creature below with furrowed brows. A dancing sphere of flame still floating about in an open palm – impatiently awaiting its release into the wild.
“C-can I help?” – Quite innocently did the child inquire, while staring wide-eyed with those green oculars of hers in anticipation. A pure intention, all but clear as day.
Not to Wail though.
“Yeah, you can get your…”- With a reply full of impatience and irritation, Wail practically spat it out towards the poor kid. Completely unaffected by the beauty of youthful innocence. Luckily – a helping hand intervened just in time to interrupt the destruction of a childhood.
“What the hell is this?!”- A somewhat high-pitched voice echoed from behind, followed by an unfriendly and forceful tug on Wail’s right shoulder. His lean frame swiftly turned around without consent only to face a goddess of beauty and fury. Disheveled black hair stuck out in every direction, while a pair of blazing eyes stared right into the warlock’s very soul. Cast upon him after a brief glance towards Vivian. Unconsciously – a tremble ran down Wail’s back.
“You fucking pedophile!”- She practically spat – “This explains everything! No wonder you could resist my charms! You were never into women to begin with!”- Completely one-sided as always, Willow didn’t waste a single second on rational conclusions as her imagination went wild.
“What?!”- Dumbfounded and outraged would be an understatement, as Wail reacted quite heatedly. His hands thrown into the air as an uncontrollable bodily reaction to absurd accusations. That fireball of his finally thrown into the air after being restrained for so long – only to land on the head of some unsuspecting soldier. Avoiding the raised shield and surprising the fellow with its high ark of descent.
“What’s a pedophile?”- Vivian inquired innocently, as the two were lost in conflict. As always.
With scowl of disgust, Willow pushed the magician to the side and turned to Vivian with a complete turn of displayed emotions – a pleasant smile plastered on her face.
“It’s a grown man, who likes little children a little too much”- She explained, with a perfectly straight face on, as if it’s been rehearsed before.
Somewhat happy, Vivian turned to Wail with a broad smile. Her childish eyes sparkling in obvious joy – “You like me very much?” – Anticipation clearly visible within her green pupils.
“What? No!”- All defensive, the black-hearted magician quickly shot back, lowering his hands with palms outstretched towards the kid – as if to maintain some invisible barrier.
“You’re not a pe-do-phile?” – Somewhat saddened the child inquired once again, all her expectations shattered by the hasty replies.
“He is!”- Willow quickly intervened, as her sweet smile soon turned to a sour one as she glared at her male companion.
“I’m not! You’re the pedophile!”- Angered at this point, Wail threw back – together with another conjured fireball that slammed into the face of an approaching yellow-wearing interrupter. Most likely – eating away at his last drops of health, as the poor man soon fell to the ground in quickly spreading flames.
“How am I the pedophile, you idiot?!”- Angered even more – Willow replied with both spiteful words and a glare that could kill. Completely ignorant of the fact, that the family dispute was taking place within a god damn battlefield.
“So only men can be pedophiles? Nonsense!”- Quite the defense Wail conjured up, together with another
couple of fireballs – as he released them after charging up. Their enhanced size splitting into many fractions once they were high enough above the enemy lines. A series of screams following after their descent.
“You’re a man?”- With a raised eyebrow and clear disbelief in her eyes – the little girl inquired. Her lips soon twisting back into a smile as another thought seemed to pop-up – “And you like me?”
“Look it up at the fucking dictionary, you illiterate! And stop avoiding the issue with all your flailing about!”- Willow shouted back at the same time, as Vivian’s questions came-out. Due to which she was barely able to hear it – her features twisting into a motherly smile just as she turned towards the kid – “No dear, I’m not a man. You can call me big sister…”- She began to explain, stopped only be the swift dejection that consumed Vivian’s features.
“So neither of you like me?” – Teary eyed, the poor child asked one last time, her sorrow filled head turned to the side, as if afraid for the answer.
Not without reason.
“This isn’t the fucking time for any of this!”- Wail shot back, as he barely dodged a swing of another yellow-wearing interloper - the battle-lines becoming more and more chaotic.
Completely disinterested in helping at this point – Willow kneeled in front of Vivian, with a sweet smile. Grabbing both of her shoulders with tender hands.
“Dear, of course I like you. But only he is the pedophile, so you should stay as far away from him as possible…”- She explained with a straight face. As if she herself didn’t doubt the made conclusion for even a second.
“B-but…”- Somewhat unpersuaded, Vivian hesitated – as her teary eyes were fixated upon the struggling silhouette of Wail. Who was pinned down to the ground by another enemy soldier. As the smart-ass pressed a plated boot upon Wail’s struggling frame – a sword raised in a readied thrust.
“A little help here!” – He shouted, as his current circumstance caused him enough stress to be unable to cast a fireball. A spell – which was somewhat unsuitable for such close proximity.
“No!” - Woken from her moment of contemplation, Vivian screamed in panic – her little frame struggling to rush in rescue, only to be stopped by the firm grasp of Willow. Who by the way – did not seem bent on helping at all. On the contrary – the female glared upon Wail’s misfortune with a venomous shine. In anticipation of the magician's seemingly inevitable death.
Help arrives from the most unexpected or in this case – expected sources, though. Since a familiar charred figure lumbered just in time – pummeling the poor soldier with a broken sword and clawed fingers. Clawed mainly due to the fact that at this point – flesh was giving way to protruding bone.
Minion number one – timely as always.
Relieved from that embarrassing position – Wail brushed the dust off of his robe in somewhat over-done swipes – as he side-glared at Willow. His lips pressed into thin lines. Did not seem like he was too happy. A rare occasion that one. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Before he could resolve the glare-off between himself and the venomous vixen, an unexpected guest dropped by with even more unexpected news.
“Hey ugly!”- Somewhat rudely, Sorro rushed from within the battle lines – his fiery form covered in blackened glue-like substance, while dark smoke floated all around him – “Their lines seem to be crumbling, we should push the offensive now!” – An uncharacteristically valid bit of strategic advice thrown in, moments before his fiery form dashed back into the fray. Sparks, screams and explosions a testament to his advance through the enemy.
Distracted and lost in contemplation – Wail glanced back at Willow – who, unsurprisingly, was still glaring back – “We’ll discuss this later…”- Only to one-sidedly end the on-going conflict. Leaving soon after with a battle-roar without even waiting for a reply. As if the world revolved around him and his decisions. Quite self-centered.
“Oh, we will…”- Willow shot back silently, her lean arms still attached to Vivian’s struggling frame, as she simply refused to let go of the child. Only to receive a kick to the shin – from an angle that she simply did not anticipate – “Ow!” – She complained, somewhat unnecessarily, seeing as the kick did absolutely no damage. Not only that – but she even released Vivian from the grip. Who in turn – ran after Wail in hasty little steps. Completely unafraid of jumping over and running past the blood, gore and mutilated corpses that littered the field. Her eyes simply locked upon the back of the advancing warlock. As if a light at the end of the corridor.
A sigh escaped Willow’s chest, as she smiled bitterly regarding the turn of events. Her hand slowly withdrawing the favored dagger from its sheath. Only to follow in the child’s steps soon after. Events shifting towards a weird focus, as if the center figure of it all was simply – Vivian.
*******
In somewhat clear dissatisfaction – Princess tapped his meaty finger upon a bicep, both arms crossed. Blue eyes glaring from beneath yellow, furrowed brows. Right at the all-out melee that went about in the field in-front. Wail’s outer-perimeter erupting in multiple explosions caused by the falling projectiles of fire-and-rock. Inflicting heavy casualties to the yellow ranks – which was somewhat weird, as the contraptions loosing such projectiles still managed to shoot with such accuracy even after the lines were shifting constantly.
Arrows flew from both sides upon the heads of all those locked in strife – puncturing leather and seeping through the cracks between plates. Wounding or even killing many. Which happened more often on the yellow side – seeing as most of their archers were put to rest by the previous kamikaze cavalry charge, carried out by Wail’s forces.
Things didn’t seem to be going according to plan, seeing as the magician bandit-lord, managed to hide a few aces under his sleeve even at this stage of conflict. A result of which was a complete stand-still – even after the heavy infantry were thrown into the fray. Surprise over the current circumstance being somewhat a downplay of the emotions that swirled within the golden-lox covered head of his.
“Sir, I apologize for interrupting your time of contemplation”- A somewhat low-pitched voice caught Princess’s attention, as he turned his head towards a heavily armored man standing barely a meter away – a metal jiggling echoing out as the man bent his back. Covered from head to toe in chain-mail, a two-handed mace held in with hands across the chest. Its tip a star like figure of interloping metal plates. Their edges thick, sharp and threatening.
“Speak” – Completely unfazed by the threatening figure, neither by the height of his frame, nor by the fear-inducing weaponry wielded.
A jingling soon followed, as the figure nodded his head – “Forgive my rashness, but may I suggest a retreat, before further casualties are inflicted upon our forces?” – With but a hint of hesitation, he inquired. Head kept low in anticipation of a reply.
Princess glared at the top of his underlings head, as he was soon lost in contemplation once again. Blue eyes slowly traveling over the battlefield – only to soon turn towards the forces still stationed around him. A bare two dozen heavily armored men, followed by a couple of somewhat lightly-clothed fellows. Too lightly dressed to look in any way, shape or form – combat effective.
He didn’t need to think for long on the suggestion – since Alternative Reality, always the little helper elf – lent a hand.
Ominously – the wind blew from behind their ranks, swaying the trees above. Their limbs groaning from the forced movement, leaves rustling – while the occasional leaf would flutter down and along the wind’s path. It was as if the forest came to life – a myriad of noises and echoes floating about in the air. Their combined volume forcing one’s hair to stand up. Yet it was one distinguishable sound that made the atmosphere so tense. That forced out sweat from its pores.
A murmur drifted to the group’s position. A drifting echo of mixed sounds - foreign, uncommon to the natural order of the forest. As uncommon as the roars of battle that drifted on the opposite side �
�� in the direction of Wail’s castle-city-to-be.
Completely ensnared by the approaching murmur – Princess, together with his party, directed their gaze towards its supposed direction. Eyes soon catching onto numerous floating lights that stretched as far into the horizon as the eye could see. Taking up most of the immediate scenery - lingering in the air like ghosts.
With nerves tense, the company observed the approaching unknown force with anticipation, the time slithering along at a snail’s pace.
Soon enough, silhouettes could be distinguished, fractions of words and phrases could be heard – and a dumbfounding realization could be made.
An angry mob.
“Devil’s spawn…!”
“A curse…!”
“Plow away his dark seed…!”
“To the stake with ‘im…!”
With the occasional angry phrase reaching the group’s ears – the mob advanced. A sea of peasantry armed with various farmhand tools. Pitchforks, hoes, plows, brooms and rakes. An occasional peasant armed with slings and torches. While other’s carried their shoes as if ready to use them as projectiles. Their hard-wood heels more than enough to leave a bruise.
With great fervor did the swarm advance – their uneven ranks wavering with each encountered obstacle. Since the practically berserk plebeian’s were somewhat blind to anything in their path. Their foam dripping mouths spouting angry yells and barely understandable curses, while their upturned eyes to the point of showing the whites were pretty much useless for navigation. A number of them either slamming into tree trunks or tripping over roots and being trampled under former colleagues. Or undercover family rivals - using this as an opportunity to settle disputes over who would stand ahead of who in the line for succession. Whatever there was to succeed in the villages they came from. A cow or two?
