“The swamps of the Kesmourn Blightlands are a danger to even the most seasoned of adventurers, to say nothing of those less experienced. Bog trolls, hags, swamp creatures, dusk wisps, blight flowers, and all manner of insectoid critters will try to take a chunk out of you as soon as you step foot into the bog. To combat any single one without proper protection and preparation would be tantamount to suicide. We haven’t even talked about the undead, demons and corrupted blight creatures yet. ”
- Azeriah Gaius, Silver Rank Adventurer, “Adivce On Navigating The Blightlands"
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Mila and her riders crashed into the line of undead at full speed, the warg ripping through the initial undead while Mila jabbed her sword down at another. The orcs attacked even more ferociously, expertly turning their wargs to allow the riders to swipe down as many as they could.
“Ignisahg!” Mila cried out, and her sword reacted to the command, the mana from the spell coating it in a thin sheen of fire.
Seeing the signal, two trumpets sounded from nearby and the battle cry was heard, “For the free peoples!” The Lochagos roared.
He led the Potomians into the fray alongside Marduk, the beefy shield wielding orc battering flimsy undead weapons aside as she showed them the true meaning of a monster. The Potomian phalanx pierced through the thin sheets of undead armour, their troops well drilled and skilled in formation fighting. With clinical precision, the troop attacked and manoeuvred as one.
It was a ruthless one sided battle as Mila’s party demolished what little resistance ther was. Yet, knowing that this was just a group amongst over two dozen still roaming the Gratian countryside, she found little solace in their victory. Still, having dispatched the group was still a good sign. It meant that they were drawing ever closer to their objective of stopping Annalise.
It all began when her preparations to act solo were discovered by Lord Orion’s spies, forcing the senior inquisitors to make their moves sooner rather than later. That wasn’t her intention and the paranoia of the senior staff meant that some of her own plans needed to fast forward before she was replaced. So it was that her expedition towards meeting Annalise started early, kicked started, ironically through her own actions.
In turn, she managed to convince the captain to support her instead of waiting for the changing of the guard. Making her the leader of this little expedition inthe aftermath of the ‘Purple Death’.
Her goal was simply, to gain an audience with Annalise and whatever it was that was inhabiting her friend’s body. To get there however, it would seem that something had agitated all the undead that trailed behind the dark army. Meaning that along the way, various groups of undead had turned from passively roaming the countryside and being a menace, to actively disrupting the lands.
Unable and unwilling to leave the innocent to suffer the same way she had, they had taken on plenty of diversions in order to assist and help the locals, defending or simply defeating the undead menace one horde at a time. Normally, Mila would despair at having so many delays obstructing their goal. Yet, in knowing that one of Gratia’s senior inquisitors had moved directly to Monte De Trisse to deal with the crisis using his own powers and retinues. While they had conspiracy to get Mila removed from her post, she still offered a small prayer of luck for the inquisitor.
Wiping out the last of this small undead band. She did a brief headcount of all her remaining fighters. Bruskol shook his head as did the captain. No casualties this time, good.
“Steady up! Check for wounds! We march in five!” Mila commanded.
“Yes lord inquisitor!” Lochagos Alastor Bellius affirmed, “Rest up, catch your breath lads! You heard the lady!”
The man had proven an exceptional captain. Or rather, the Potomians had loaned the Inquisition an exceptional troop with an exceptional captain. Their discipline and order were impeccable. Similar to how she had seen them when they first arrived in Gratia, they looked and walked like troops always ready for a parade. When in reality, it was just that they were inhumanely well drilled. Their default state is just scary.
Their tactics had been simple but effective so far. Potomian pikes and spears would hold the line and attract the enemy’s attention, drawing the hordes towards them with Marduk as a backup shield bearing berserker in case things got hairy. Then, Mila, Brushkol and Karzuld would use the wargs to act like a shock troop, running down and smashing whoever they could in a blaze of violence before the melee troop stepped forward to finish the job. She suspected that against a more orgainized and adaptive opponent, they would need to rethink their strategies. But until then, against the mindless dead, it worked well enough.
Of the hundred Potomians they had left the port city with, only two had fallen so far. One from a stray arrow, the other from a particularly chaotic melee. They had skirmishes against half a dozen hordes already. Despite the current situation, it left her and the troopers feeling quite good. She knew it was a false sense of confidence and security but she let everyone bask in it. After all, it’s the undead. If we don’t find the source the chances of everything we just did being undone is almost certain.
Mare’s Berth was now under the unofficial command of Lieutenant Kraster, her last possible snub against Lord Orion’s possible machinations. At least until whoever my replacement is arrives. It pained her to not have the templar at her disposal, for she was too used to their gleaming silver shields and arms simply cutting swathes within the enemy lines, literal walking armoured embodiment of death. Though the orcs were less well armoured, their savagery more than made up for it. But having no templars at all… this is a big change. To her, the lack of templars also required a shifting of strategy, for while she knew and had seen the Potomian phalanx hold the line. She also knew that they were not as durable, no matter how well drilled they were.
But tactical changes I can manage. I’m still worried about the eventual letter for my recall. Her scowl deepened.
Brushkol nudged her and almost unseated her completely. Righting herself, Mila looked over as the orc shot her an expectant look.
“Lochagos, are we ready?” Mila asked.
The captain turned to his men, assessing them with a series of rapid nods and gestures.
“The men stand ready to move, mam.” He announced.
“Excellent. We have a short way to go before the next village. Let’s hope clearing this horde bought them some time and ourselves a quick rest stop. Advance!” She ordered.
As one, the Potomian formation turned to march, a few of the troops still staring with amusement at the undead. She had learned early on that the Potomians weren’t used to fighting undead monstrosities, more used to tackling organic and far more reactive opponents like hydras or harpies. Judging by how little casualties they took so far, she doubted she had anything to worry about. For now.
Potomian war trumpets sounded once more and the group began their march. Onwards towards a force far greater than themselves. Let’s just hope Anna takes the time to talk to us, otherwise… I doubt we’ll make it.
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The terrified villagers of Haut-en-Fleur barely greeted them as they arrived. Only when Mila communicated to the village elder that they were neither raiders, nor bringers of the purple death, or the undead that he slowly relaxed. Confirming that she was in fact, an Inquisitor and these were troops, including the orcs, that were under her command relieved him a little more. Warning them of the potential undead threat nearby however, she noticed him tense up a bit. But with a few shouts and bellows, the village gradually opened up to the troops.
In a similar vein to when the Potomians had arrived in Mare’s Berth fresh off the boat. The villagers of Haut-en-Fleur watched with some semblance of awe and fear at the almost mechanical precision that the Potomians marched with. Only when they set up a small campsite for the group on the outskirts did more and more villagers begin to offer their help. Seeing the cooperation happening warmed her heart a little, to know the reason why she fought and the people whom she fought for brought much needed assurances to her own uncertain soul.
The village itself was nothing too special, low walls meant originally to ward out wildlife now transformed into hastily made palisades due to the civil war spoke of a land mired in unceasing conflict, its people turned into little more than numbers and brief footnotes in the ledgers of a general somewhere in one of the capitals. Yet the namesake of the village, the flower fields that surrounded it, had remained mostly untouched in the decade of conflict that gripped Gratia. It was, both a blessing and a curse, that this place was considered too unimportant to warrant any military action. For neither side paid the place any attention, but considering the amount of undead they fought on the way here, Mila also knew that there was no way the defences would stand without any help.
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While the fields currently lay dormant due to the winter, the villagers were more than happy to share a few precious supplies with the new arrivals, much to her own surprise. Potomians and Gratians chatted, a brief respite against the never-ending fight against the dark forces that plagued this land.
Of the troops, perhaps the villagers were most wary of the orcs, the hulking humanoids towering even over the Potomians. Yet it was ironically this that made them the object of curiosity for the village’s children. About a dozen or so of the younglings stood a respectful distance around the orcs, much to Brushkol’s amusement as he kept looking to Mila for orders. She just shrugged, hoping that he didn’t misinterpret that as allowing him to eat the children.
“So how many did you say you’ve already slain on the way here?” The village elder asked her.
“Counting the most recent one? Possibly about a thousand. Low quality fodder but still dangerous if they were allowed to gather into one warband.” Mila answered.
Around her were the ones who represented this village’s governing body. The elder, a mayor, two craft guild leaders and the captain of the village militia. It wasn’t much, but it’s something. She wanted to help them, to advise them however she could. But given what she had to work with, her advice amounted to digging trenches and traps around the village. A grim prospect for nothing much else could be done. And if they were breached, only the defender’s grit could prove to hold them back. But that was attrition warfare, and in almost every scenario, she expected the village to fall.
“So what? We’re just supposed to accept the danger? What about aid from the king? Or hells, something at the least. Aren’t you an inquisitor? Can’t you do something?” A guilder demanded.
“I’ll try to send word, but the capital is occupied with the ‘purple death’ for now. The senior inquisitors there already gathered a task force to face it.” Mila tried to deflect.
“Yes. But you’re here now, aren’t you?”
“Indeed. But… we are also dealing with this menace, unfortunately.”
“All of you? Can’t you spare just a few people for us?” The mayor pleaded.
“I’m sorry. But I have my hands full… trying to put down what undead we detect.” Mila replied, her voice almost cracking from the bold faced lie. Because afterwards, we’re also going to meet Anna, and then you’re all going to be left alone. Goddess help them.
“I suppose that’s all we can ask for. May good fortune guide you to victory, so that we might be spared from the horrors.” The elder sighed.
“Thank you, we’ll try our best. Of that I can promise.”
“Pardon me for saying so, but you’re still so young. You’re barely older than my daughter.” The second guilder spoke.
Mila winced but nodded, Goddess, how can I protect everyone?
“I was recently prompted, sir. They saw me fit for duty here.” Until they recall me.
“By the stars, a newbie.” The captain breathed out, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“As do I, sir.” Mila bobbed her head.
“Regardless, know that you have our support. And that we will begin fortifying how we can.” The elder looked over the snow covered fields with sadness in his eyes, “We’ll fill back the plots when this is all over.”
The others nodded and offered their well wishes before departing, leaving Mila alone with her thoughts as she contemplated what to do next. Stars, to simply leave them to their fates, isn’t that too cruel? But I need the troops to reach Anna, there’s so few of us already thanks to Orion’s machinations, the bastard.
As more snow began drifting down and her troops made ready to camp for the night. She wondered if there was any way that this current situation could be resolved without trouble. For Gratians lived like any other, only that their politician’s and king’s squabble so much that the land was torn in two. Now that Anna and her horde was ravaging the land, in a twisted way, Mila hoped that it would be enough to unite the two disparate factions. If only it were that simple.
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When they finally departed the village, the troops were in high spirits. Thanks to their recent victories and their restful night, they were ready to tackle whatever challenges lay ahead of them. Yet at the same time, it was this leg of the journey that Mila feared the most. For it was the part that put them in closest contact to Anna's forces and by extent, the 'purple death'. For now the wall of ravaged lands didn't seem to expand from its pathway, the undead hordes mostly confined to their own little nook of the world. Still, she couldn't help but worry that it was only a matter of time before they were unleashed, and the already battered land of Gratia would suffer even more. With war and suffering already a known constant for its people, she wondered just how they could cope with yet another calamity waiting upon their doorstep. I guess it would just be death but in another form, how grim.
Karzuld the scout led the way and helped the party advance. Brushkol kept her company as her advisor and bodyguard, the orc's presence offering a potent deterrent for anyone looking to eliminate her from afar. Perhaps because of a certain archer. Marduk kept the Potomians company, his massive shield adding to their shieldwall and proven a reliable distraction to the troops as they tried to better understand the hulking mass of destruction that was an orc.
From them, Mila learned that Potomia was a land always on the brink of war with Traxia. But that most of it's resources were fielded in order to deal with the rampant monster population that plagued its coasts and caves that dotted the land. Their methods of warfare however, were both layovers of the past when Potomia was more divided into little states, as well as a mixture of modern military techniques pioneered during the waning days of the first Nautican Union. She also learned of Potomia's ironclad presents from the dwarves, the two literally iron clad steamships using a mixture of clockwork and steam power to create one of the most fearsome naval combatants within the waters of the Trannoire. Tweaked with magitech and wards provided by mages, they made for a neigh indestructible ship that could dominate its opponents with ease, though only two were in service of Potomia, making them a limited use weapon.
Mila always found it bizarre how marching towards inevitable combat always proved to be the most refreshing and potentially contemplative moments in her life. As if she was reviewing every little thing and finally processing it in the event that she would be struck down or felled. She never wanted to die, but her near-death experiences both during childhood and back in Melton had hardened her soul. Whatever the case, she would go down fighting for the common people, her efforts spent to prevent another tragedy like the one that befell her childhood home. And yet, no matter how hard we try, darkness still lingers everywhere. No matter how much we fight, people still get hurt, corrupted, and broken. But such is the struggle that plagues this world, the reason why the Inquisition exists. To fight so that the innocent may rest easy, knowing that their protectors will batter away the darkness.
It made her curious about the orcs, wondering why Brushkol's tribe had such a change of heart in trying to defy the high warchief. Brushkol's chief had claimed it was to right the wrongs, to guide his people back upon the right path. But what was that path? What was it they were after? Is it... atonement? She didn't know, and it only occurred to her now that she never really asked, never really pried. Just not my style, I guess. But it did make her sad, knowing that she had barely learned about her comrades.
Even with Anna and Sophie. Only now did Mila spare a thought for just little she knew about the two of them, of their pasts, their struggles, their goals. They had both lost a great deal, suffered much, like her. And yet all their pain was different, for no matter how much they each shared, they would not know everything, not be the same. But that's just the human experience, I suppose. And err... elf too I guess. She snickered to herself, stars above, what a messy world we find ourselves in. Tell me then, Goddess, is there truly any hope for any of us?
Mila grunted as she tried to avoid the one thought swirling in the back of her mind. It came back to Anna and what they faced, the sheer desperation on the ranger's face when she realised that the village of her new darling had been attacked by the plague bringers. The horror, the pain, the fear. Mila viscerally remembered the exact moment she felt the arrow hit her, the moment that she looked at Anna with eyes curious about the betrayal. For Anna had appeared the strongest, the most stoic of the trio back then, the taciturn but jovial ranger who supported her friends even after losing her leg. That moment still stuck with Mila for it scared her greatly trying to imagine what she herself might have to go through.
To have been through so much pain and suffering and to continue to lose... could I even endure that? Let alone someone else? Of everything, Mila wondered if her misguided crusade right now was a way of finding out why, just how had her friend cracked so suddenly? She told herself it was to make up for the chaos that Anna had left in her wake, the death and destruction that now ran rampant throughout central Gratia. But am I really?
"Inquisitor!" Someone shouted.
Snapped out of her thoughts, Mila turned towards the voice to find the lochagos flagging her down.
"What is it?" She queried.
"Your rider is returning at an urgent pace." The man informed her.
Turning her attention back down the path, she found Karzuld rushing back towards her, the orc looking concerned for the first time in a while. Understanding his expression as something serious and his urgency as an indication of something else. Mila had to take a moment just to process everything before she snapped back to her normal self.
"Lochagos, have your men form ranks and be prepared to drop into a defensive circle!" Mila ordered.
"Yes mam! You heard her! Defensive formations!" The captain shouted.
Potomians jumped into position almost immediately, form ranks of battle ready spears and breaking out of their marching formations. Without even being told, Marduk joined the shield wall at the front, giving Mila a curt nod as their eyes met. Mila offered one in return before turning to Brushkol who was already reading his warg for battle. The beasts began howling as the indication of something powerful seemed to be on the edge of their senses. Steeling herself, she waited nervously as Karzuld closed the distance, the orcish scout looking just as worried as the rest of them.
"Karzuld!" Mila called out.
"The dark ones comes. Armoured beings of darkness. Not just the skeletons this time." Karzuld informed the group.
Hearing this, everyone tensed up. Potomian spears were gripped tighter as Brushkol's expression dropped to a threatening scowling. Mila could feel her heart pounding in her chest at the news. She had briefed everyone before of the possibility, but because of their experiences so far hadn't expected to encounter one yet. The death knights. Let's just hope the rumours are exaggerated. Stars bless us all. With her teeth chattering slightly from the winter chill, and the pristine snow lining the ground below, she wondered just how quickly this winter wonderland would turn into a blood-stained crucible. For all our sake, let's hope we can take him down easy. I'd rather not lose anyone. But even she knew, she was lying to herself. They wouldn't get out of this unscathed.