Each group of vampires had been given a single formation of Tier 1 undead to collectively control. These undead were obviously disposable and their usefulness in combat was suspect at best. To the more intelligent among the young vampires it was clear that the undead they were to control together were here to see how well they (the vampires) could get along and whether or not their group could avoid engaging in self-sabotage.
Their task was simple; they were to keep the formation as intact as possible in each battle, only replenishing the numbers of the Skeletons or Zombies after each battle and only after their numbers post battle had been tallied. Likewise, they were to control the undead formation they were in command of as a group. This meant that they could not simply hand the task of controlling the undead off to one of their number while the rest worked independently.
This would be a test unlike anything they had ever experienced, and it was all but certain that at least a few groups would fail in their task. Still, it was either success or oblivion, and none of them wished to meet the reaper just yet.
…
One group of five vampires, each from a different House, sat together and tried to hash out a plan. They were to join the other groups in their assault on the closest enemy fort that was within the occupied territory that the Crusaders had seized from Darksol. While other groups were getting along extremely poorly, this group at the very least ha a plan and was trying to stick to it. While the test forbade them from directly attacking the fort themselves, it had no clause that stated that they could not engage in reconnaissance.
While the other groups bickered over various plans of attack, this group had decided to let each of the five members engage in actions that played to their strengths. The assaults would not begin until one more day had passed, and this group had already begun to use each other for their benefit of the whole.
The vampire from House Moreau had scouted the area in a manner only a wild animal could. His sense of smell, sight and hearing added to his animalistic sense for danger and had, as a result, allowed him to find the best avenue of attack for the undead formation to use.
The vampire from House Dracones had, in a very unusual move for a member of his House, joined the vampiress from House Nefarius and poured over documents regarding the manner in which sieges were fought and how the Ititlian Military engaged in defensive actions.
The vampiress from House Carmilla had managed to use her seductive wiles to secure vital information regarding troop movements and numbers in the fort they were to attack as well as its surrounding area. Likewise she and the vampire from House Brandou had managed to ‘convince’ a few non-military personnel that were going to move into the fort that it would be a good idea to light fires and engage in other acts of sabotage during the minutes prior to the assault.
While the other groups still had their heads up their asses, this group was proving that the Houses could work together. If they were the only ones taking the test, it would have already been seen as quite successful. But, as so many military men like to point out, no plan survives contact with the enemy.
…
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It was just before the last rays of the sun vanished beyond the horizon. A single soldier stood in his watchtower made of ironwood and scanned the dark terrain in front of him while occasionally yawning. This was a quiet post. Despite being inside enemy territory, the undead were utterly incapable of getting close. The land had been saturated in holy magics and blessed water, thus preventing any undead or dark being from coming close. Therefore, even though he was inside the homeland of the great enemy, he had enjoyed nothing but boring and dull days.
He heard the sounds of someone climbing up the ladder and then the sound of the trap door in the middle of the watchtower’s floor opening. He didn’t even bother to turn around as he could smell the mix of perfume and wine drifting from the woman behind him.
“Hey there. Wanna have a bit of fun, my handsome mister soldier? No one around to stop us this time, no sticks in the mud to say ‘no’ to a little bit of sensual enjoyment. I’ll give you a special price; 50 copper for all the love you can make. How does that sound, sugar?”
The soldier shrugged and fished around in his coin purse for one large copper coin. He could pay five medium copper coins and get the same result, but he wanted to make an impression. He wanted to show this prostitute that he was a money maker, which would get him preferential treatment for a while. Call-girls tended to tell others in their profession about those who gave the most money, which made the ‘big spenders’ and the gentler of customers be well received and thusly well taken care of.
He handed the coin to the woman who let out a sultry humming sound before pocketing the coin and turning the soldier around. She locked lips with him and pushed her tongue into his mouth before pulling back. She began to tug at his leather armor before stopping and looking at something behind him with widening eyes.
“Hey, gorgeous, what’s wrong?” the soldier asked, surprised that the whore was not going to try and disrobe him right here.
“Goddess….”
“Huh?”
“Oh, Goddess… No….”
The soldier turned around and saw something that had no right to be there. He blinked several times, rubbed his eyes, then blinked again. Suddenly, the realization that the fort was about to be hit with a large amount of undead hit him like a sledgehammer. He turned to the prostitute and ordered her to get out of the watchtower and retreat to a safe place before he then rang the alarm bell a good twenty-five times to alert everyone in the fort.
He had to act fast! He grabbed his bow and his quiver of arrows, drew his bow back and then-!
He felt a sharp pain in his side, right along where his liver was. Looking down, he saw a thin blade had driven itself into him down to the hilt. He turned to se the call-girl about to ram another one of those stiletto blades into him and he barely managed to step aside and avoid taking the blade in his neck.
“Why?!” he asked in an outrage, the pain slowly overtaking him.
“It is what I was commanded to do. Glory to the Midnight Aristocracy, Glory to House Brandou.”
As his strength faded, he realized that the woman’s eyes were glowing a soft red, the clear sign of her will having been stolen by a charm spell. He was too caught up in his lust and sleepiness to notice it! Had he managed to do so; he might have been able to…
His thoughts were silenced as the charmed woman turned the dying solider over and drove the other stiletto into his brain stem. The woman then stood up, grabbed the bow and arrows and began to fire at the scampering Ititlian soldiers down below. After a few measly attempts, she realized that she couldn’t draw the bow far enough with her weak arms, and instead merely tossed the bow and arrows over the wall before jumping over the wall herself and dashing her brains out on the hard ground.
By the time the rest of the men had made it to their posts, the undead were already surging alarmingly close. They began to climb over each other to get up the wall, and the living men guarding it did their best to push them back. As they tried to fight the undead, the smell of smoke made them subconsciously turn around to see that their supplies and living spaces were now on fire. As if that wasn’t bad enough, someone had, either in a panicked attempt to escape or in a deliberate act of sabotage, opened all three of the gates.
The Ititlian soldiers put up a desperate fight, but with their supplies ablaze and the dead beginning to pour in from the gates and over the walls, their hopes for survival were nil. They made a valiant defense, but despite taking down seven undead for each of their number, the battle ended in a victory for the vampires and their undead pawns.