Hey everyone! This is a proper, decent lenght battle RP. Its against monsters but thats to be expected with this new Wave of critters besieging many realms. They kinda cought Aldrakar off guard as you may read. Enjoy!
Through skeletal hands
It was a baleful day this autumn day which Aldrakar found himself traveling through. Trees were harassed by strong winds and and many a peasant was seen busy tending to their vulnerable roofs. Thatch mended, tiles replaced or unfortunate enough to have parts of the roof entirely ripped off their homes.
With the rich browns, yellows and reds surrounding the small company of men that were the last remaining Shieldguards did Aldrakar set out from Aveston to Askileon. The first region to cross was Thar Gortuath. The land stretched out before them as it was dotted with gently sloped hills, sparse woodlands and numerous villages. The roads had endured the same treatment as the dwellings of the poor and its state was much to be desired of.
That being as it was, the small group of armed men had chosen to avoid a particular bad section of the road network.
A traveling bard had informed them that not a day travel away the road had been washed away by a storm, littered with debris and had told that traveling through the country side would prove quicker. After taking short council with his sergeant Aldrakar had opted to do exactly this. The land was not unfamiliar as he had traveled through the domains of Sun Hall many times. That didn't mean that surprises could still be thrown at him though, as fate seemed to have in store.
Somewhere just after mid morning when the 6 soldiers and Aldrakar were keeping an eye out for a place to stop and enjoy their lunch time meal did fate reveal her surprise to the unsuspecting group. That morning had been plagued by light mists and occational drizzle that had made the landscape slick and slippery. Perhaps the road would've been a better choice but that was hindsight. Row with the oars you got, as the saying went.
Walking on foot and at the head of the small group was the youngest member of the shieldguard. A handsome and strapping youth of just 19 summers old, Jalen was his name. Proven skill and in possesion of an easy charm that had endeared him to the group. It had been his turn to take point and he had done so without complaint and whistled as he took in the vista that was Luria at autumn.
Life was snatched from him before he ever could prevent it. From a nearby and ancient oak lept a corpse with unnatural agility. Bleak and color stolen blond hair hung wildly down its shoulders and revealed patches of rotten skin on its skull where hair no longer inhabited its head. Jalen's body crunched and collapsed under the impact as the undead monstrosity landed feet first on his shoulders. Ribs breaking and bursting outwards as they failed to absorb the force. Blood bursting from under the armor where it could and making of his upper torse a deformed mess.
''To Arms!'' The scar riddled sergeant's voice boomed through the thinning mist. ''On me! Shieldguard!'' Aldrakar's voice joined his. The sound of Lurian steel being drawn from sheathes and mailed boots crunching dead leafs underfoot. As the men formed on their commander did their enemy reveal themselves. Not a singular unnatural foe had ambushed them but with him where others. From the foilage, brown and nebulous appeared over 2 dozen skeletal warriors.
With flesh long gone from their bones the rattle of their age worn and battered armor filled the air as they rushed the huddled group of men. Supernatural shrieks were born from tongueless mouths as the undead charged. The few moments before impact saw Aldrakar's men exchange worried glances and tiny beads of cold sweat form on their faces. Would they soon join the ranks of the unliving was their unspoken question.
In a clash of bone and steel and flesh did the two unbalanced forced crash together. The 6 men a rock engulved by a wave of chipped swords, decayed axes and grabbing skeletal hands. Worn symbols and icons displayed that were hardly recognizable and lost to time. With an upward swipe of his sword wielded in a two handed grip did Aldrakar smash off the head of an udead warrior. The man next to him covered his side with his shield and caught two undead of his own. One he grazed with a stab and the other clung onto his shield. To the living it was clear, they would loose and die. Too many, to few of them.
Voices carried through the mist and shouts of alarm could be heard. Aldrakar could spare them no attention as he fought for his life. The blade in his hand a poor mimicry of his trusted flaming broadsword. Cold and bony hands sought him out and grapped at him from all angles. He shouted his defiance and pushed his body to its limits. Every ounce of strength used to wrest free and fight!
Skeletal hands receded for a moment. Lifeless heads turned away from the small clump of dying men. A new threat was posed to the Bone Walkers. From a short distance away, if you were stood on a higher vantage point that is, there were the Madigan Guard. Militia men counting roughly the same number as the Undead. Equally split between ranks of archers and swordsmen.
Valiantly did they enter the fray. Their blades held high as they stormed to aid the embattled noble.
Hessir, a man Aldrakar had known for 2 years. A veteran of the sieges and battles of Nebel Island, Jumped in front of a spearhead poised to rob Aldrakar of life. Giving his own in his stead. ''Hessir! No!'' Tears welled in Aldrakar's eyes as he chopped at the spear and saw the flimsy wood shatter under the assault. Hessir groaned with pain as the spearhead was no longer wielded by an undead but instead was driven deeper by the force of Aldrakar's blow. The price of impulse.
The undead turned nearly entirely towards the militia as their assumed leader, the Leaper, shrieked unnatural tones that caused grown men to wet themselves and wish for the mothers. This respite allowed Aldrakar to back out, to run. Finding himself and 1 other man still able to fight they saw at their feet all their brothers in arms. Fallen, dead or close to it. ''Help me!'' Aldrakar snapped with vehemence to the sole remaining soldier as he put his sword away and heaved one of the wounded to his feet. Together they managed to extract 3 of the wounded and themselves. The militia was to be their salvation, brave common guards. The day was won but victory is a sweet word only when free of loss.
