Open Chronicles The Dead March

[Faurosk]

As a man who made attempts to avoid fighting wherever he could, Faurosk was unaccustomed to the sounds that now echoed through the village. He took what few quiet moments there were to focus his hearing, picking up nothing but the faintest shouts from the south. He was caught off guard when the apparent leader of the Templars turned to address him, standing slightly straighter in shock with the tell tale wide-eyed look of surprise at his order.

"Of course, sir." He took the commander's word in stride, trotting closer and preparing to follow while shrugging his quarterstaff off of his shoulder. The surface of the dogwood staff gripped in both of Faurosk's hands was marred only by the appearance of a few small runes, whose patterns denoted the arcane schools of abjuration and protection.

"Well, this is turning out to be quite the day," He thought to himself, "Must be Treday... I never could get the hang of Tredays."

Saul Talith | Arkarnianna | Voraak Tyrethian | Gerra | Ragna

 

[Albedo]

Albedo put a hand on the tall body next to her, agitation felt clearly through the mans form as she made the sign to remain silent. She and the person with her had been pilfering through a burned out house for decent materials when the large group of people had stepped just into view. The necromancer wouldn't be happy with them for having to cut their gathering time short, but considering he had made them, their value...she shuddered as the word went through her mind, Alive, was far greater. The Miller groped to her since she was on his blindside, unable to express his concern since the giant slash across his throat made him incapable of speaking. She pulled the mans large linen scarf off his waist and tied it about his neck as best she could.

Her conscious mind slipped away as her vision went black, her head swiveling about to take in the surroundings. "Don't let them find you." The necromancers voice resounded in her head as her vision came back to her. She blinked, regaining herself and pulled the dark purple hood over her head a little more.

"Always with the stipulations" she thought to herself, rubbing ash all over her face and completely over her neck. She hoped it covered the dark and ugly bruise that ran around her neck. She couldn't help her eyes, but she would try to as her master asked.

"Stay close and quiet. We need to get back before anyone sees us." Albedo hissed to the Miller. A simple nod was all she needed as the ground began to shake. If it were possible, the hairs on the back of her neck would have stood on edge, but as it was, she knew something terrible was coming there way as she saw the Templars readying themselves. She pulled the Miller along behind her, his vision from his singular eye just enough to keep him from tripping on things. The Templars to their back, she had turned her head to direct the Miller as she knocked over a burned out pillar, the cracking of burnt wood and plume of ash around them a clear sign of activity as the Templars spread out.

Ducking low, and keeping the Miller close to her, she tried to make it without being seen in the opposite direction of the thunderous marching. One of the templars probably saw them running, hard to miss a starch white shirt and dark purple cloak among the burned out rubble of the village.

Saul Talith | Arkarnianna | Voraak Tyrethian | Gerra | Ragna | Faurosk

 

[Voraak Tyrethian]

The ground shook with a violent tremor as Voraak was hunched over in the remains of a general store. The building was charred and dilapidated in its current state as timber beams covered the floor and the shelves were ripped apart and scattered about. Sheathing his sword he went behind the counter and sat down, leaning against it.


Voraak could not see his raven but he was sure to murmur a special word that only he and his raven had established.


Vulk.


After reciting the special word, his vision was brought to that of the raven. A sizable Orc detachment was on their way to the village. Templars were holding their ground but the outcome of this fight could go either way. The search for the Necromancer had come to a halt for the esteemed Paladins, which made Voraak angry.


Not only was he in a potential crossfire but the Necromancer could slink back into darkness the longer he waited.


“Damn fools. The Necromancer is the main threat, Orcs are just a band of brigands.”


Voraak knew this was not true but he was known for saying things in the heat of the moment. The Orcs would be coming to this village for some reason. Perhaps they are after the Necromancer themselves. He did not know.


He needed to act now while the Paladins and Orcs would be distracted with one another. He needed to slip away and find the Necromancer but finding him--alone would be quite the task. Voraak had no way to effectively track him and Voraak didn’t know much of raising the dead to commune with him.


Swearing under his breath, Voraak awaited the results behind a lonely shop counter, planning his next move.
Faurosk | Arkarnianna | Gerra | Ragna | Albedo | Saul Talith

 

[Gerra]

The cadre of orcs tramped into town via the main thoroughfare like a pack of dogs catching wind of a decaying corpse. Their thick shields and cruelly shaped swords, so stained in sable, scarce glinted beneath the sun. And they strained like hounds on a leash, ready to ransack and raze whatever remained of the burnt out village.

Gerra remained at their center, holding them in check with his stolid gravitas, though 'twas belied by eyes that burned like embers.

His gaze swept the village, then turned to the treeline. A frown creased his brow, but he did not stop their march, and with steady gait they stomped further into the town. Some sniffed the air and caught wind of burnt man-flesh.

 

[Ragna]

Ragna crept towards the edge of the treeline, insofar as a creature nearly fifteen foot in height could manage. The ruins of a town stood there, eeriely still. She could hear the tramp of armoured feet and barked commands from closer to the centre of the village. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to make out the speech. Orcish? It had whispers of the Spine about it.

The giantess moved forward, half crouched as she tried to use a building for cover. Her hand clenched her maul tightly. If it was more dead things, they were about to be reduced to a very messy pulp.

 

[Saul Talith]

Out of the corner of his eye Saul spotted something, though he was not entirely sure what. A flash of white, movement, though he could not tell where it came from or where it was going. A curse echoed from his lips as he clutched his fingers into a fist, not entirely sure what to do.

"Rodderick!" He barked quietly to one of his men, go see what that was.

The Templar perked up for a moment, glancing at the road where the sounds of marching metal came from, but then simply nodded his head. The young man drew his sword and immediately sprinted low to the ground, heading directly towards where Albedo had attempted to hide in the village.

At the same time The Commander turned once more, looking back towards the road just as the Orcs began to crest the hill.

Lips thinned almost immediately. "Blight Orcs."

Saul had met their kind once before, and the experience had not been a pleasant one. He'd been visiting the Broken Tooth Templar, a Chapter of the Order that was composed almost entirely of Goblins and Orcs. He watched them, then whispered quietly to the mage.

"Do you know...attack magic." He asked quietly. "Something to burn them out."

 

[Arkarnianna]

Arkarnianna, hid behind a small stone wall with a hole trough it now. She stared with her unnatural eyes trying to get a good view of what this creature she had smelt was. Suddenly she caught a smell that brought her back to herself for a moment. She smelt the necromancers magic once more, she looked around. What was it now, more ghouls? her eyes scanned and then locked on to a purple cloak that quickly disappeared behind another building. She followed them for a moment realizing that they were heading vaguely towards the necromancer, but more so away from the action here, as she strongly wished to be. There was a thought to track down those strange things that held the necromancers smell upon them, and complete what she had come here to do, which was to stop this necromancer. That thought was wiped from her head as once more fire, ash and brimstone overtook her senses. She turned from the cloaked figures direction and focused one the creature of fire that she could now see through the hole in the wall. She was so fixated on it she hadn't noticed any of the orcs, she just stared directly at this magnificent creature, and began to feel a little bit hungry.

 

[Albedo]

The pair had only moments to hide in another building before the sound of someone on their tail caught up to them. The miller pushed her to the ground and ripped the linen from around his neck, the gaping slash wound plainly visible as Albedo landed belly first in the rubble.

The templar would come upon the sight of the miller doing his best to act like he was attacking whoever was in the purple cloak beneath him. Flailing limbs and muffled yelling only lended themself to the act as his arms raised to prepare to strike, before the man looked at the templar in mock surprise.

 

[Fran]

Among the dirt roads of this destroyed village were a slew of dead bodies. The damage done to them was unspeakable if not mortifying: contorted faces expressing their pain and suffering as their limbs were severely disjointed, or worse, severed completely.

It was a morbid feast for the sympathetic eyes of Fiore Rozenelle. While the living would reel in disgust over such a grotesque sight, Fiore appreciated the beauty in death. This was further apparent as Fiore continued to lay a blue rose down for every corpse that she passed by. Perhaps this was the general attitude that her kind, the revenants, had about death. After all, revenants themselves are just dead corpses with a conscience, far from the typical necro.

Speaking of necros, despite her odd admiration towards all things dead, Fiore never liked necromancers. Not one bit.

"To hell with necromancers," She softly cursed as picked up the severed head of a young village man, "Just a bunch of foolish mortals who treat the dead as their slaves..."

She held the head against her bosom, swaying around slowly like a mother would to a child. She herself wanted to end the necromancer's life and all those who are even affiliated with him. It is already bad enough that her people are nearly forgotten in the vastness of history, but it's even worse when the future generations look back and believe that people like Fiore were nothing more than a necromancer's puppet.

"Hm?"

Nearby, there were people. A bunch of warriors in armor with some sort or insignia... Templars? That much she could make out, but there were a few in their little party that particularly caught her eye such as a man in a full steel suit of armor, an arcana user, and... a little girl?

"An unlikely team if I've ever seen one," Fiore commented, placing a finger over her lips.

Hearing large footsteps, Fiore looked towards the direction of the sound. Albeit a far distance visually, there was no doubt in her mind that the marching band were orcs. Filthy, disgusting creatures orcs are... Absolutely no sense of decency or class. But it appeared that both the orcs and the Templars sides were ready to launch an attack on one another.

A bloodbath was inevitable.

With the thought of senseless violence brewing within her mind, Fiore perked up towards the sky with a faint smile, "Ah... The world has changed since I've last drawn breath. It's become a bit more interesting with more diverse flavors. I wonder..."

It was clear that she wouldn't help the orcs, but should she help the other three? Perhaps she should wait this out a bit longer until the results are clear.

 

[Gerra]

The orc captain, a great brute with filed teeth and yellow eyes, called the column to a halt with a sharp command. He peered vilely upon the village from beneath a stolid helm. Braided hair escaped his helmet, its length dyed a wretched shade of blood-orange in emulation of the great Menalus and his fiery sons. He barked another command and a clutch of the column broke off, advancing into the ruins to root around the rubble, like pigs searching for truffles.

One of them stopped beside a corpse and poked at it with the butt of his spear.

"This one's fresh," he called back.

The orc captain narrowed his eyes. Behind him, Gerra's frown deepened. The giant pursed full lips in thought, but said nothing.

 

[Voraak Tyrethian]

Voraak peered through a crack in the wooden walls of the burned establishment. He could see something developing between a Templar and a man who appeared to be wounded. Blood was pouring down the man’s body as he looked at the Templar in surprise?

I could move now…..and find another way around this village. He thought calmly.

Leaving the shelter of the burned shop, the Dark Scholar drew his sword and in response, the pale blue runes glowed in hunger. Silently he crept behind the Templar before he ran the sword through the unlucky soldier.

The man facing the Templar could only see a black blade come through the Templars chest in one swift movement. Disappearing back into the Templar’s chest, the blade left and went back to it’s masters side.

The Templar dropped to the ground with a thud and Voraak was now visible to this injured man.
“Call for help and I will end you just like this Templar…..now….how did you get your wound?”

Voraak knew that not many survived the Necromancer’s attack. Truth be told, it could be possible that this man was the last remaining citizen but Voraak needed to act quickly to find what he seeks.

Holding his blade with his right-hand he pointed the blade toward this stranger, unsure what to do at this point. Opening up his left-hand, a noticeable aura of red could be seen emanating from it. He would be ready to cast magic upon the man if he did not comply.

Orcs were marching through the town and there was little to no time left to argue or debate, but a noise coming from behind this man before him drew his attention.

“Another one of you? Interesting….I could spare you both you know….all I need is information...do you know where this Necromancer is hiding? I know you are not with the Templars or you wouldn’t look surprised when he caught up to you.”
Albedo | Saul Talith | Arkarnianna | Gerra | Fran | Ragna | Faurosk

 

[Saul Talith]

Saul was of course entirely unaware of the fate that had befallen Rodderick.

He'd been a good man, a good Templar. Not one of the ones that he'd come up with, just a face that had been around the Order for as long as anyone could remember. The Commander would have mourned him, would mourn him when he learned of his fate, but for now?

For now the Orcs drew on his attention.

The Man inside of their formation was obviously not human, and from him radiated a stench that could be described as naught but evil. The mage beside him remained quiet, likely at a loss for words. Saul knew it couldn't last though, knew that they would have to strike.

From his left he motioned.

The Templar on the opposite side of the village shifted, some of them knocking arrows and others drawing up their crossbows. His hand swept up, and then his fingers twitched.

It was all the signal they needed. Within a second of his movement arrows and crossbow bolts began to fly down onto the Blight Orcs.

Chaos broke loose.

Albedo | Voraak Tyrethian | Arkarnianna | Gerra | Fran | Ragna | Faurosk

 

[Arkarnianna]

As some of the orcs broke off from the main group and began searching the ruins Arkarnianna realized her hiding spot would not remain safe for long. With the dissonance within her was at a breaking point, her fanatical love for the arcane would have her love the leader of these orcs, though he was not a mage a creature with the arcane in its blood had to be a god among men. Her teachings from the college had her ready to tear out its throat herself, because how dare a creature be of the arcane. Finally there was the humanity, which she had been forced to suppress for years within her, which told her to run and hide, for she should not be playing around with forces so much greater than her.

For the first time in a very long she listened to that humanity and gave up her pride.

She ran towards the templars again, no longer the tool for The College, but a scared girl terrified in the situation she found herself in. She hid behind the, new and strange, mage, his arcane smell giving her comfort that was sorely needed. She found her hand slightly reaching towards the back of the mans robes, she quickly pulled her hand back, hoping he would not punish her for reaching out.

Silently she cursed herself for showing such weakness, she was a shame to the college and if this man had seen any part she knew he'd drag her back to face justice for being a useless and horrible tool, so she could reforged again through flame to finally be a good and useful tool.

As her first tear hit the mud, the first twang of an arrow being released filled the air.

Albedo | Voraak Tyrethian | Saul Talith| Gerra | Fran | Ragna | Faurosk

 

[Albedo]

The Templar dropped to the ground with a thud and Voraak was now visible to this injured man.
“Call for help and I will end you just like this Templar…..now….how did you get your wound?”

The Miller looked confused as the templar dropped to the ground, blinking as he pointed to his neck, then mouth, before shaking his with a shrug after motioning to his mouth. Opening his mouth for a second and trying to speak didn't give the man anything more than the sounds of strained muscles and wind passing through a gap in a wall. The cloak beneath him stopped struggling, hearing the man speak to them.

"He can't talk!" Albedo tried to tell the man from beneath the cloak as her muffled voice barely reached him. Her arms finally managing to get undone from beneath the miller pinning her to pull the hood back enough to look at the dead templar. "Oh gods!" Albedo nearly screamed as she stared into the faceless helmet. Her gaze switched to the man pointing a sword at the miller.

“Another one of you? Interesting….I could spare you both you know….all I need is information...do you know where this Necromancer is hiding? I know you are not with the Templars or you wouldn’t look surprised when he caught up to you.”

She held her tongue, her eyes focusing on the man for too long as she faded out for a brief moment. "Bring this one to me." Albedo shook her head as the voice in her head faded away with a slight laugh, the vibrant green harsh against the black of her iris and the matching sclera. A heavy sigh coming from her before quietly replying.

"Our master would like to see you. We can take you to him, but y-your weapon. He doesn't want to make servants again." Albedo spoke as the miller held his arms up in surrender, loud enough to inform the man but she was still a bit taken aback by his willingness to stab a templar in the back. She hadn't dealt much with the templars in life, but she knew through stories from visitors that they still tried to do work for the people, making them far more noble than most.

The willingness to kill reminded her of the person she now called master.

 

[Faurosk]

Everything had changed so quickly, and Faurosk found him self quite sufficiently befuddled by the startling experience.

Whatever mock serenity that had settled of the burned-out village had by then been shaken away by the approaching thunder of an Orcish march and the scent of brimstone that now clung to the mage's robes and hair. A tinge of combat paralysis solidified Faurosk's joints, locking him in place; similarly, his mind lagged behind for a moment, registering everything in retrospect, as if he'd heard about the events of his day in a story rather than as he'd lived them.

The Templar had asked him a question, yet for some reason, Faurosk found he couldn't remember what it was. He was promptly distracted from this curious predicament, however, as he noticed the small figure of Arkarnianna cut a path from the ruins to stand fearfully at his back. The shell shocked mage spun back around to the imposing Templar at his side, opening his mouth to answer just as Saul gave the command to fire.

His consciousness snapped back into the moment as the first "t'chi!" of an arrow being fired reached his ears. The momentum of his initial spin to Saul carried through his body, bringing him to face Arkarnianna once more. He chose to cast a brief glance over his shoulder to the Templar, speaking in a low tone.

"I'm not a war mage, but I believe I'll be able to help nonetheless. Give me a minute."

Without another moment's hesitation, he fell into a crouch to address the girl on her own level. His tone of voice softened noticeably once he realized just how distraught she was, and he tried his best to be comforting despite the quite terrible situation and his own lackluster social talents. "Hey, hey, you're going to be alright. We just need to get to safety, alright?" His right hand glided elegantly along the intricate runes of his staff, and one might have noticed the faint glow of a protection spell glinting from the arcane focus to protect Arkarnianna in a warding spell of sorts.

Saul Talith | Albedo | Arkarnianna | Voraak Tyrethian | Gerra | Fran | Ragna

 

[Voraak Tyrethian]

The man before him was struggling to have any noise come from his diaphragm, which Voraak took note of this. His sword was still at the ready, still pulsing blue from the last soul it devoured.
His voice has been shattered….pity he thought to himself.

A female voice snapped at him, informing that this man could not speak at all. Voraak’s focus shifted to the other individual, cautious of what could transpire here on this day.
“Forgive me, I thought he was just shocked.” He gave a coy laugh.

As the female looked at the dead Templar, Voraak had a feeling of self-hatred; he hadn’t killed a Templar before. The search for all knowledge, was it finally getting to his head? Why did the Templar truly die? Voraak didn’t have the answers but he cared little for this self-reflection.

The woman shook her head which made him curious and so he cocked his head slightly to analyze the new acquaintance.

“Your master? Your master is the…..Necromancer?....Hmmm….Excellent. This better not be a trap or you will lose your vocal cords as well lady.”

Looking at the blue runes of his sword, he complied with the Necromancer’s wishes and sheathed the sword back in its scabbard.

“Doesn’t want to make servants again? Interesting….Tell you what, take me to the Necromancer and I will protect you both en route to the location”

They didn’t look like they needed protecting, as they looked like they could handle themselves. Voraak wasn’t all heartless….at least not yet. Their willingness to take this stranger to the Necromancer was alarming. It could be a trap or the Necromancer wishes to have Voraak act as a host to a different soul. At any rate, some knowledge from this trip would be better than nothing.

Looking to the skies, his raven sat on a dead tree nearby. Calling out to the dark bird he whispered some incoherent words to which the raven responded by following this newly formed group.

Nema Ahki Doh

The raven almost nodded in a grim fashion and hovered above Voraak, following him.
Saul Talith | Albedo | Faurosk | Arkarnianna | Gerra | Ragna | Fran

 

[Gerra]

Arrows flown on imported Fal'Addas poplar and goose feather fletching, gathered from good Allirian fowl, hissed through the air with the angry buzz of stirred hornets. Belgrath bodkin points struck through Molthal chain maille, stuck in Orc flesh, or skittered off Blightland broadshields.

The thwock of releasing crossbows from within the ruins followed closely and short, ugly bolts hammered into the Orc warband. The scouting party sent ahead died in the muck, arrows and bolts bristling from their bodies as they writhed in mortal agony, blood mixing with ash and dirt.

Gerra felt a sharp sting in his shoulder. Glancing down at his black raiment, he noted a shaft sticking from his shoulder, piercing the chainmail. With a grunt, he broke it off and tossed the wood aside.

"Shield wall! Shield wall!" screamed the Captain, yellow eyes wide and frantic.

An orc standing beside Gerra took a bolt through the throat and toppled. Gerra bent low and fetched the fallen warrior's tower shield. The ranks of orcs in front drew close, rectangular shields clanging as they pushed them close. Gerra lifted his overhead to shield himself from the rain of arrows.

"ARCHERS."

From twixt several gaps within the middle of the formation, Orc crossbows loosed an answering volley. They then fell back as the Captain took up the cry.

"Spears." The Blight Orc formation bristled like a porcupine in fore and upon the flanks. "Step. Step. Step."

Step by step they trod on their fallen further into the ash and blood as they pushed forward into the ruined village, advancing on the burnt out timbers that housed their ambushers.

 

[Saul Talith]

"I fucking hate these guys." Saul grumbled quietly to himself.

He'd face Blight Orcs before, and annoyingly they had a tendency to be far more organized than their more...wild cousins. They were fighters through and through, armored, dangerous, and only fell to the lust of blood when it suited them and no one else.

Their numbers were even, but Saul knew that the Templar would be stretched here.

Dozens of civilians were popping up, the streets were ash and thick with blood, they couldn't fight the orcs head to head. It would have been foolish, and a death sentence he was unwilling to give his men. The Commander shouted something unintelligable for a moment, likely another curse, and then motioned to the others.

The mage had run towards the girl that had appeared earlier, though what he was doing he had no idea.

"Draw them inside!" He called to the others. "Force them into a confined space!"

At least then they would have a chance.

Albedo | Voraak Tyrethian | Arkarnianna | Gerra | Fran | Ragna | Faurosk

 

[Arkarnianna]

"Hey, hey, you're going to be alright. We just need to get to safety, alright?" His right hand glided elegantly along the intricate runes of his staff, and one might have noticed the faint glow of a protection spell glinting from the arcane focus to protect Arkarnianna in a warding spell of sorts.

Hearing the mage speak Arkarnianna looked up, hope filling her eyes, then she saw the spell coming... As soon as the spell connected with her she cried out, and she fell to the ground her body spasming from the pain. The spell had been absorbed inside her in less than a second, but it took a bit longer for her to finally come to again. When she did though her eyes shot open and she leapt to her feet, she quickly tried to dust herself off, then went into a deep bow.

"Thank you, I deserved that for behaving so shamefully. I am sorry you had to witness such filth from me, and had to waste one of your spells to punish a wretch such as myself, I should have been better and I am truly a disgrace. I will give you your space so you can work your art without me in the way, and I shall stop being such a hinderance to you." Arkarnianna straightened once more and took a number of steps back. Her face now devoid of emotions, her eyes now cold. She would not slip up again. She side stepped a stray bolt from the orcs, her cold eyes never leaving the mage, watching him for any orders.

Internally Arkarnianna cursed herself with derogatives so strong it would have made a sailor blush. Here she had been claiming to be a tool for The Collage and yet she had been a hinderance. A useless tool is disposed of, but her sin was greater, she had been a detriment. Being tossed aside by The Collage would be the worst thing she could imagine, but she knew she deserved far worse, that what she had just experienced would be only the start as The Collage took her back and reforged her slowly, bit by bit, until hopefully this time she would finally be a good tool.

 

[Ragna]

An orc rounded the corner, skidding to a half as he was confronted by the giant. He swung at the beast out of pure fear, the falchion blow jarring his arm as it hit off her bracer. A panicked bleat and frantic backpedal before her fist smashed him against the side of the house. Ragna shook out her hand, she'd skinned her knuckles. She rose to her full height, striding around the corner of the building. Two more orcs ran, not wanting to face the monster alone.

Ragna gave out a roar before swinging her maul. The massive weapon caught one of the fleeing orcs and sent his body flying. The blow had shattered most of the bones on his side, he was dead before he hit the ground. Ragna did not enjoy orcs. Cooking them only made them tolerable.

 

[Faurosk]

Faurosk looked on the cold girl with confusion and shock, though a flash of fear shot to through his expression as he flinched away from the stray bolt she had so easily sidestepped. He leapt to his feet, turning over a shoulder to glance back at the approaching shield wall of the Orcish troops. One brief, muttered curse later, he looked back to the small agent and gives her a broad gesture in the direction opposite of the approaching troops. "Just run! Get as far from the Vil--"

His sentence was cut off, however, as an orc was sent careening through the air by the now quite obvious hill giant standing a little bit too close by Faurosk's standards of comfort. The bewildered mage could hardly do much more than stare at this point, mouth hanging agape as his eyes trailed the flying corpse, only looking away with a wince as it made landfall. "Or we fortify here! Find cover behind the Templars, it would seem they're trying to force a choke. Either way, keep your head down, and please keep yourself safe!"

He spoke too quickly to be considered comforting, but there were plenty of pressing matters that threatened to break his calm. Faurosk turned back to Saul at his side, looking up at the imposing, armored figure. "If you can get them more tightly grouped, sir, I may be able to 'burn them out' as you put it. I'll only have one shot at it, though, so we'd best make it count."

Arkarnianna | Saul Talith | Ragna | Fran | Voraak Tyrethian | Albedo | Gerra

 

[Arya]

"Shit, shit, shitshitshitshit!"

Having been on the eastern side of the Allir Reach, The Templars were spread out in an attempt to protect the other local villages that were any kind of distance from what we expected was the location of a known necromancer. Our attempts to notify them and to ready their men should the Undead, or whatever, escaped and came their way, they would be prepared. However, in doing so, There were a small number of us that were not in the ensuing fight that was taking place.

It had been only five minutes ago that the raven belonging to one of the scouts sent a messenger bird of Blight Orcs headed into the establishment of the Necromancer. Undead, A necromancer, and Blight orcs was never a good combination. If the Necromancer was even remotely powerful, as soon as an orc fell, it would rise up again, but unable to feel pain. Unable to stop at the screaming. I was so mad at myself for letting this happened. We should have expected for reinforcements to pop up somewhere.

Only, we thought it would be people, or a backstock of corpses for this Necromancer to use. I cursed to myself in the common tongue as I rode upon the horse as fast as I could to attempt to reach and provide aid.

Even just one more sword on the field could mean the life or death of someone else. And that was my job right? To uphold the law of the land, and to seek out those who would bring ill intentions to the people. I pushed the horse hard. Hearing the rapid heavy huffing and breathing from the dead sprint towards the rest of the Templars.

I just hoped I would make it in time before others perished, or worse.

| Faurosk | Ragna | Arkarnianna | Saul Talith | Gerra | Voraak Tyrethian | Albedo | Fran |

 

[Albedo]

Tell you what, take me to the Necromancer and I will protect you both en route to the location”

Albedo pushed up, the miller finally moving off of her, and crouched low, still hearing the orcs and commands of the other templars around them. A heavy and loud crack emitting from nearby as the walls of a building near to them crumbled under something heavy. "With how things are going, we will have to return at night anyway to gather anything else, should give you time to talk to the mast-...necromancer." Albedo quietly spat before motioning for the newest part of their group to move with them.

He had whispered something, or mumbled, it didn't matter to her as she peered through the rubble to get her bearings. The master was always mumbling to himself also, and only became a problem whenever he was in her head talking. She could hear lots of metal off to one side with the sounds of arrows mixed in with the clanging. There had been a roar, but it hadn't sounded like anything she had heard before.

They would have to make sure to not run into whatever had made that noise. Thunderous hooves in the distance also had her worried, making it seem as though everything was coming down all at once.

She waited for only a few brief seconds as she pulled both men's hands, the newest member perhaps a bit unprepared for the sudden movement, and the surprising strength the girl had. The miller seemed alright as the group was crouched low and moving once more away from the noise of impending battle.

Albedo kept checking around them, what looked to be a giant woman striding about behind them to the left as the trio made for the edge of town.

Saul Talith | Faurosk | Arkarnianna | Ragna | Gerra | Voraak Tyrethian | Fran

 

[Gerra]

The formation moved steadily forward to the tattoo of their Captain's rhythmic shout, an implacable wall of blackened steel forged in the Molten Halls of Molthal, as much a crucible for the armor as the orcs legionnaires.

Their ambushers huddled in burnt out buildings, occasionally breaking cover to loose arrows or crossbow bolts against the shield wall, desperately seeking a gap.

Suddenly, there came a tremendous crunch, Gerra looked up sharply and witnessed the broken body of an orc flail through the sky from somewhere behind Gerra to land in the building in front of the formation, with a clatter of metal and wood, limbs horribly askew.

Craning his neck around, Gerra saw an immense head, with a mess of auburn hair, peering over the rafters of a kirk.

A hill giant, here? And she dared to raise arms against a son of Menalus?

His naked brows knit together violently, thick lips pursing together in an expression of disgust.

He spake then, and his voice was like the rumbling of a volcano. "Captain, charge."

The Orc Captain, blissfully unaware of the hill giant to the rear, bellowed the order at the top of his lungs. The warband took up the cry, harsh roars issuing from cruel tongues as their iron shod feet beat heavy and frantic upon the mud in a full-blown sprint.

Armored orcs rushed forward, vaulting fallen timbers to fall upon the templars with unalloyed savagery.

 

[Saul Talith]

Complete and utter chaos erupted in the tiny village.

This had all begun as a hunt for a Necromancer. It had all begun as a way to track down evil in the Allir Reach. The man had been wreaking havoc on innocent towns like this, tearing apart the living and raising the dead as little more than a show of his own power.

The mission had been simple, easy. Track down the man and kill him. A dozen Templar would have been enough for that, hell, it would have been more than enough. But this? This was something entirely different.

Saul's sword cut through the armor of one of the Blight Orc's, finely honed steel slicing through Molthal black as sparks of blue erupted from metal scraping hard against metal. There was a cry, and then the creature fell. The blade then swiped forward a second time before Saul suddenly caught something in the corner of his eye.

He saw a an orc flying through the air.

His mouth opened, and he glanced to the mage behind him. When he saw the man hadn't been using magic he gave a confused look, and then suddenly nodded as Faurosk spoke. "I'll get them together."

The Commander told the mage.

"Pull back!" He called to the others. "Retreat!"

His words were loud enough for even the Orcs to hear, an intentional ploy to pull the creatures towards his lines.

Albedo | Voraak Tyrethian | Arkarnianna | Gerra | Fran | Ragna | Faurosk