by A Uscila
“Demon’s balls, do you even realize what you got over there?” – Sorro inquired with clear shock and anger, seemingly agitated by the warlock’s ignorance and a lack of terror that was, so obviously, supposed to be present – “Keep that thing away from me! Ya hear?!” – He suddenly shouted, backing away in the process even more – “And why didn’t you tell me anything?! If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have tried to get back here by force for some petty revenge…” – a tone of deep regret slowly seeped into the demon’s voice.
During the heated monologue – seeing as Wail already lost interest in the conversation once it strayed away from matters directly related to him – Bob, previously tasked with service as a messenger, ran-up. Ragged breath, slightly slumped posture – he really outdid himself with the job. Or at least made sure it seemed so. Wail could only give him A for effort, regardless.
“Done and done! Willow replied, and I quote “I’ll stick around to see the prick screw-up” – He reported, voice drowning out whatever remained of Sorro’s tirade.
With a smack, Wail slammed a hand against his forehead – making sure to run the appendage down slowly across his face – “Good.” – He squeezed out through clenched teeth – “Good job.” – Yet, no matter how one looked, it didn’t seem like the warlock was in any way satisfied with the bandit’s performance – “Now tell the remainder to retreat, we’re withdrawing…”
“Shit! They’re charging in!” – Embalmer’s voice echoed loudly, as the man exclaimed with shock on his face – the expression only seen through a glimpse, since as soon as Wail glanced towards his direction – the necromancer was already turning in a clear upcoming full-throttle retreat. Undead skeletons clattering in tandem, as all of them moved in unison towards the same retreat route.
Being somewhat jealous of the ability to make split-second decisions and actually stick to them – Wail then turned his attention towards the enemy forces. Eyes somewhat widening, as if the action would help take in the sight.
In a neat triangle formation, which formed who-knows-when, who-knows-how, the enemy charged towards the cleaned-out fortifications exit-point – which was still somewhat protected by a number of spear-wielding bandits.
At the very spearhead of the formation, rode a dazzling figure – shinning as brightly as any well-established model. An armor-covered figure, her attire no different than the rest wore – the only exception being the green-colored tabard that covered her front and back. The previously described symbol drawn upon the center of her chest. Medium length curls of shining gold bounced together with the steed’s thundering sprint. A claymore raised in one hand – its’ tip directed towards the heavens above Wail’s forces. Transparent light slowly forming a wall in front of the swiftly advancing formation – all the while their approach reverberated almost painfully in the warlock’s ear-drums.
Wail grit his teeth, right palm turned upward as a fireball came into existence above it. Without wasting much time – he threw it over the battlements, right onto the ground within the fortification. Right in between the approaching stampede and the exit-point. Upon contact – the projectile exploded, its’ target catching on fire and spreading soon after, at a speed no different than what happened beyond the battlements. Indeed, the ground wasn’t just flattened earth, oh no, it was darkened grass, soaked in who-knows what. What one could be sure of, though – the ingredients were quite flammable.
His foes did not startle, they did not stop, nor did they slow down. Their advance continued without a care in the world, dashing straight into the fires. As if some twisted symbolism for purgatory – their glowing, white forms unafraid. Unstained by sin.
Shadows swirled in fury around the warlock – as he swiftly burned through his health in an attempt to replenish mana, making sure that it was full to the brim. Hand already raised in preparation – waiting for the fires to spread wide enough to consume his foes whole.
“Come on Wail, let’s get out of here!” – Bob, being one of the last to retreat shouted from nearby, his helmed head turning from the mage to the ever-approaching cavalry charge. Seconds slipping by as tension rose, when it most certainly shouldn’t have. Logically, the exit point was too narrow for more than two a-horse to pass by, side by side. Yet the formation ended up being ten times as wide, the wings threatening to ram into earth and wood – the horses being in danger of injuring themselves. While the riders would end up in no better condition. And yet – sweat still dripped from beneath the bandit’s helm, for deep down even he must have known, that there was no way the enemy was stupid enough to not realize that. Oh no – they had something cooked up and getting as far away as possible seemed like the smart thing to do.
“Wait for it!” – Wail replied in a shout, a droplet of sweat running down the side of his pail forehead. Concentration undaunted by the still present Soulfiend, who continued to swirl around and rub against his robes – completely unaffected or simply, uncaring for the psychological disposition of its’ summoner.
Moments stretched into eternity, the cavalry continued its’ charge and the fires maintained their steady spread. Already, most of the formations spearhead was running over the raging fire – their figures still shrouded by a white glow, hoofs stepping upon flames unscathed. Unburnt.
“Do it already, warlock!” – Sorro suddenly shouted, almost startling Wail out of his serious disposition, for he did not notice that the demon was still there. By all means – it was expected that the summoned minion would have escaped at this point. As he always did.
With no time to contemplate the unexpected issue, Wail clenched his teeth harder and snapped his thumb and middle finger – sparks coming into play from the sudden friction. With that – the raging fires beyond exploded, their swaying forms consumed almost instantly by the spell. Smoke, dust and neighing horses filling the air – the sight of the charging formation disappearing all-together.
You’ve gained a level!
Chapter 59
As the smoke and dust began to settle – the results of the wide-area spell revealed themselves to Wail, his held breath slipping out in a sigh. An eyebrow rising as a thought slid-across his balding cranium – he only got one level from it. Peculiar.
It took one second for the man to realize what was really taking place.
“Shit! Run!” – He shouted in complete and utter panic, turning towards the forest-side without another moment wasted, leaving Bob and Sorro behind - stupefied, surprised.
Both of them turned back to the rising wall of smoke, the sight of ground-zero. What they saw, made them turn around in similar haste and dash away even faster than Wail, overtaking the poor magician moments later.
From within the wall of smoke and dust – came the wave of white-clad riders. Their formation still holding fast, though some its’ members seemed singed, blackened – a few figures supposedly missing. Without stopping, as if materializing from another dimension – the foes continued their mad-dash towards the battlements, the white aura that covered them seemingly extending further to the front, freezing up into a clearer, smoother shape. Finally, during the next few moments, as their forward ranks approached the fortifications outline – the very same white glow was the first thing to slam into it, literally. In an explosion of earth and wood, the battlements were obliterated, leveled to the ground. Flattened until no obstacles remained, the charge passing through quite smoothly after – the horses needing to pass over a few bumps and slopes, nothing more.
Their way unobstructed, the heavy cavalry finally broke-up their neat ranks and scattered about in uneven lines, gaining upon the scattered bandits who were still unable to hide within the tree-line. Though seeing the recent display, it was doubtful how efficient hiding behind trees would be.
“Fuck, where’s that support when you need it!?” – Wail complained, words spoken in between ragged breaths.
“Use your fucking Soulfiend, you twat!” – Sorro shouted back, two pools of molten flame turned towards the mage to meet
his gaze, while the demon skittered away on all fours. At least he gave some advice. Progress.
“What? How?” – It would have been even better, if the advice would have been of some use, seeing as Wail had no idea how to use that hovering black bubble of broken dreams and stolen souls. With a glare, he could only stare at it – floating away in blissful ignorance. A state that seemed to anger the magician even more. Heck, he might have done something about it, if not for the somewhat, drastic circumstances.
“Soul-link with it and order it to attack, you twat!” – A reply came back from the rear-side of the, as usual, mean demonic minion.
With that and no better ideas on-hand, Wail did as suggested so rudely, a transparent link forming between himself and the floating minion.
“Go and make yourself useful!” – He added, pointing a finger towards the ever-approaching foes while on a continuous flight to the opposite direction.
A satisfied and quite creepy purr came in reply, as the Soulfiend made a few circles in the air, before darting away towards the enemy. As it floated between and above the foes, ignored, given no more than a passing glance – particles of black matter descended in its’ passing. Coming into being out of nowhere, floating down like black smoke. Their white aura unable to protect the riders this time, as the particles passed through without obstruction.
+55 health.
+58 health.
+56 health.
…
With that, an influx of health once again poured in, Wail’s depleted life-force filling up nicely. Though the use of it remained in question, seeing as he wouldn’t be making it to the tree-line fast enough to avoid being cut down and trampled.
His mind raced in never-before seen haste, the web-covered cogs turning in a symphony of creaks and cracks. With it, a vague idea slowly came to life, coming together as Wail’s neck slowly turned the head to the right of his position. Eyes traveling up towards the wooden barricades that remained untouched still. After all – the cavalry charge obliterated only the very center of the fortified-line, with the remainder length to either side was left intact.
Following the sight, his mind continued to work, a feeling as if the mage was onto something slowly setting in. With that – he now looked straight ahead, vision darting from one allied backside to the other. Taking notice that every single one was running towards the same direction, in a relatively narrow disorganized line. A flashing light-bulb above his head would be the perfect visual effect at this point, since realization finally surfaced in full effect.
If the warlock had the time, he would have performed a face-palm routine, yet had to refrain from it due to a few tenacious fellows gaining on his heels. With a sudden change of direction, the warlock leaped to the side – grabbing the nearest protruding wooden stake for balance and started ascending the relatively steep hill.
He cackled in glee during all the strained effort, confidence beaming almost as brightly as his unpleasant appearance. Almost. Not quite there, though.
What a fool he was, for not realizing it sooner! To think that a man as capable of destruction, murder and general acts of evil as him would not see a perfect opportunity to use others for his own advancement, was simply mind-boggling.
Apparently, Wail managed to put two and two together and figured that since the pesky pursuers have recently reformed their usual formation – a more solid manifestation of their shiny aura coming to sight, that they’d be more interested in chasing down larger groups of bandits. If so, then he was out of danger and too out of the way to be prioritized as a target.
A brilliant plan, without a doubt. With quite the sadistic smug plastered upon his features, Wail soon ended his flight upwards, only to turn in hopes of witnessing the passing of his foes. A fireball already conjured in preparation for making fun of, poking and gloating at the enemy.
All he had the time to witness, regrettably, was an upcoming stampede as the formation’s tip has already been directed straight at him, the aura already getting brighter - mere seconds away from making contact with the fortifications.
Earth rumbled, while dirt and pieces of wood from the shattered defenses flew into the air, as the charge ran through it like a bulldozer.
-531 health.
-98 health.
-117 health.
Pieces of Wail’s property flew past, numerous fragments slamming against him in passing, while the magician himself was blown-away by the sheer power of the explosion. His position way too close to escape the outcome.
Disorientated, dumbfounded and somewhat irritated, he attempted to get back on his feet and make a quick retreat or at the very least – an assessment of his situation. His ears vibrating from the constant rumbling that would simply not stop. Quite annoying.
With a scowl and a few grumbles already slipping through pressed lips, Wail rubbed off the dirt from his face and finally took-in the surroundings. Or tried to.
Bright rays glared straight into his eyes, forcing the poor magician to flinch and soon freeze-up once a cold, hard point pressed against his chest. A point which was considerably sharper than the warlock preferred.
A tip of the sword was directed at him. Guiding his gaze which constantly adjusted to the bright light – Wail’s eyes finally met the rude perpetrator of these less than pleasant circumstance.
A beauty of crystal clear blue eyes, lovely facial features, wavy golden hair and a full-body plate armor with the previously noticed symbolism drawn upon the tabard that was worn over it. His breath caught.
“Really now, you’re making the hunt way too easy, dear” – With a simply sinister smile, that was pleasantly breathtaking in a more than Wail was comfortable with way, she commented. Her gaze playful, mocking even. One that a superior would direct at her lesser. Which, in these circumstance, Wail had a hard time arguing against.
Numerous riders stood in silence around the magician, while others rode in a circle around – the source of the constant rumbling now explained. Arrows occasionally rained in their vicinity – glancing off shields and helms without much harm done. During which the warlock noticed his Shadowfiend still flying about overhead, his form occasionally disturbed by a sword or spear – waved through by annoyed soldiers that tried to shoo his minion away, if not kill him-outright. A lot of use that pricey pet is.
“It is such a wonderful sight, seeing you beneath me like thus” – With the blade still directed at him, she continued her one-girl show – “If I had known it’d turn out this way, I would have dressed-up for the occasion” – Funny. For her at least – as the female knight started giggling like a school-girl, a slight tingle of crazy in her voice.
Now that the warlock thought on it - she was the one at the very lead of the cavalry charge this whole time, yet her tone or the implications behind it made the unfortunate magician wonder. Did he know her? What was she talking about? Where were his minions? Did they escape? Oh, they better not have – or he’d make them pay once he revives.
Indeed, not much optimism there. Which was somewhat sad – seeing as events were about to spin towards a more favorable direction.
With a single, loud beat that overcame all of the surrounding noise – the forest shook, birds rising into the skies with a cawing and chirping fluster.
Then came the horn. A long, ear-numbing sound that forced Wail to cover his ears.
Then came the continuous drumming.
“Ah, it seems we have company” – The female knight commented, as she withdrew her sword and gazed towards the opposite direction from the captive warlock – “Stay put, my dear prey – I’ll be back momentarily. Wouldn’t want anyone ruining our fateful reunion” – She added, while guiding her horse around – the silent riders all around turning and getting into position without a word spoken – “Or don’t and make it all the more enjoyable” – and with that, she rode off, together with most of her comrades in neat spearhead-formation. Swiftly riding out through the newly-made exit point, the white glow that once again covered
their lines moving further away – clashes of metal and disturbing sounds reaching the warlock’s position soon after. A view of what the cavalry encountered unclear, for Wail had a hard time seeing from his position and through the few remaining white-warriors – their armored figures still upon the calm steeds. Full-helms twisting around every now and then, gazes peering through the slits in reconnaissance.
Wail didn’t have to sit still for long, luckily – since it wasn’t much longer until his drained patience demanded action. With a sparse rain of arrows and random shouts it seemed like a force was approaching his position. A careful glance to the side revealed quite the pleasant sight – as his own were dashing to the rescue with Bob at the very lead. His more than deadly blade raised above-head with but one hand. Lovely visual effect and an applaudable psychological attack, yet its’ efficiency remained to be seen – Wail would like to see that dweeb try and swing around his sword with one hand. He’s no Macrosh, that’s for sure.
Behind the overly dedicated minion, numerous bandits followed-suit, some clad in heavy-plate – their ability to keep up quite the achievement, especially with the large shields they wielded, in tandem with swords and spears. While others wore the usual studded-leather vests – buckles, axes, swords and throwing-spears held as weapons. With an-ever approaching roar, a few arrows flying over their heads or from their left flank, the group advanced. Willow and her rangers now visible to the right, on the very outskirts of the woods – dashing towards the same direction with short bursts of projectiles let loose in regular intervals.
