Dreadlords Doesn't Look Good

[Norah]

Her scream ended in a low moan. Sweat breaking out along her brow as she looked down at her ensnared ankle. The flesh ripped, angry and bleeding. Still caught in those metal jaws. With her fair skin nearly turning white, she managed to keep her daggers in her hands as the enemy began to converge upon them.

The Anirian soldier to her left got an arrow through the middle of his eyes.

The one to her right was being locked into a duel with a deadly swordsman. The cortosi was using two curved swords that looked like they hailed all the way from the Empire. Silver glinting on moonlight as they slahed in the night. Norah leaned forward, trying to find a release button for the trap.

Problem was?

She needed some leverage.

A shadow fell in front of her and she had enough time to roll to the side, her ankle snagging as the chain and trap kept her from moving so far.

"Anirian Bitch," the cortosi soldier spat as he raised his sword again.

 

[Yuric]

The insult was the last thing the solider ever said; His execution of the trapped and wounded Initiate underneath him was swiftly interrupted by a searing blue bolt-- Yuric's spear, brimming with energy as it impaled the Cortosi through the abdomen. With a bloody sputter and the clatter of his sword as it fell to the rocks below, he stumbled back and collapsed into a heap.

"Trattia!" Came the voice of the spear's owner behind her. In front of Norah, a large tower-shield, fashioned out of the shell of a thousand-year old tortise, would appear in a flash of blue light, deflecting any further attack from range. Yuric leapt over both Norah and Trattia's shield, landing beside his victim and pulling his spear from the body to brandish at whoever came next.

It wasn't long before more soldiers came to keep him company, but against a Dreadlord Initiate that wasn't robbed of the use of one leg, they found their task a hair more challenging.

"Norah!" He called behind him, voice strained as he deflected a curved cortosi sword off of his spear, barely missing another swipe at his legs as he backpedaled from the encroaching soldiers until he was leaning back against the shield that protected her. "Back left of my belt! Tool pouch! Free yourself and help, if you would?!"

It was actually medical tools in the pouch, but surely she could find something in there to pry herself free.

If not, Yuric would be replacing her as the damsel in distress.

Norah

 

[Rhory Grimmere]

"Take whats left of the Guardsmen."

No back up, Rhory wanted to say she was surprised, but that was how the Dreadlords played.

"Move to the right of the ridge, I take left. When the enemy nearly has them strike down."

"Understood." She nodded before turning to the remaining Guards. They gave her a solemn look, wondering what this lone Dreadlord would be able to do in order to go alone on the left flank.

Rhory didn't give them time to determine anymore on the matter before she ordered them to move.

The ridge had given them a great vantage point, and there were only two archers left between them. Rhory accepted a crossbow from one of the archers, locking in the bolt and readying her shot. "Not yet."

The guardsmen all tightened their jaws, ready to move on her orders. The Initiates could handle another moment, as more Cortosi soldiers appeared. Rhory's eyes narrowed. "That's twelve of them." And the number remained that way, even as the Initiates fought back. She waited another moment, and another. Her tongue ran over her lips to wet them.

"Nock."

The two archers held steady, aiming for the stragglers of the group.

"Hold."

Rhory locked onto her target, a large man that was thundering up towards the Initiates, a snarling grin on their smug face.

"Loose."

All three projectiles soared through the air, carefully calculated so that their trajectory would find each of their marks. Another wave flew through the air, but with their attack announcing their presence, only one more soldier fell.

"Advance." Rhory handed back the crossbow and rested her hand on the pommel of her sword, moving down the path they had taken to join the fray.

 

[Cenric]

The Lone Dreadlord, thankfully, was not so alone.

Cenric would have much preferred a weeks time of acclimation, perhaps even a bit more, but each body he'd taken would work well enough. They wore the uniforms of the enemy, carried the faces of their once friends.

It would be enough.

"Like a puppeteer pulling the strings." The Dreadlord said as he and his new bodies slowly began to trudge up the ridge. They moved with a disturbing synchronicity each of the soldiers drawing forward as though guided by the same hand.

Some stumbled, even twisted their ankles, but the winces of pain were brief and those broken would simply be dragged by their comrades. Like a hunched limb dragged along. Cenric knew that by the end he would need them all, and he crested his side of the ridge that thought was proven true.

Below, in the slight cut of the valley, he could see the two Initiate's and not soon after the Guardsmen rushing down. The enemy outnumbered his allies near two to one, and soon it would be much more than that. Least the Guardswoman had held until the last moment.

For a moment more he waited, dozens of fingers flexing, more than a dozen necks shifting and cracking.

Then he rushed forward.

Every body that he had taken, every corpse that he had raised suddenly surged forward. All as one they rushed down the hillside. Swords and axes raised as they went running towards the small battle. Some of the Cortosi shifted, turning to see their brothers and a cheer went up.

One that died seconds later as Cenric's new retinue cut into the enemy.

Terror and confusion quickly flowed through the ranks, the shout of names echoing, the plea of a cousin dying on his kin's blade. The Cortosi called out in fear, but every word fell on depth ears. The souls of their lost replaced with only his own.

 

[Norah]

Enemy arrows pinged off the shield Yuric had constructed just in time. A few soldiers near them got taken down by friendly fire. If Norah was betting, she was sure that blonde guardswoman had something to do with it. At least the flipside of her magic had taken its toll.

Its price.

The slight girl grimaced and reached silently up, fingers deftly swiping multiple things from Yuric's pouch. Items he probably wouldn't even feel leaving their place.

Shutting out the sounds of those trying to kill them, she jammed the makeshift tools into the release of the trap. Just like picking a lock.

"I need you to step here," strained voice lifted up to the other initiate as she pointed in the torchlit dark to the release on the trap. Once Yuric was able, it would spring her ankle free and she'd pull the mangled mess from the metal and blood-stained jaws.

Forcing herself to stand on one leg, palming a throwing knife in one hand. Even as the tide of soldiers around them focused their attention on the other side as some of their own came jolting forward to cut neighbors down. Norah knew it was Cenric. Fingers reached for the crook of Yuric's arm as she flicked her wrist across him, her knife burying in the neck of a Cortosi charging for them.