In the many years Friedrich Lichtwark had been a templar, 22 to be exact, never before had he laid eyes on such an abomination. He had faced countless horrors over his years—demons, trolls, orcs, corrupted heretics, you name it, he had probably fought it—but nothing had prepared him for whatever it was that stood in front of him now. It was an undead, he knew that much after having fought some that a group of mages accidentally raised some years prior, yet the one in front of him was… odd, to say the least. The creature's appearance defied the usual malevolent demeanor of undead beings he had encountered before.
It appeared as though the skeleton was going berserk as it scrambled and paced around the room, wholly ignoring him as it did whatever it was that it was doing. It moved erratically, its bony hands clattering as it gestured wildly, almost as if it were trying to communicate with itself or some unseen entity. At a certain point, it just stuck its head inside a pile of snow, a behavior that struck Friedrich as both absurd and inexplicably pathetic. The templar couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity mixed with his disgust. What kind of dark magic animated this creature to act in such a bizarre manner?
To Friedrich, it looked as though the cult leader had maybe screwed up the spell to raise it, resulting in this strange and pitiful display. But he did not care for the reasons behind its existence; his duty was clear. He stepped forward, his boots stomping into the snow. The room grew colder as he advanced, his presence alone enough to cause the flames on his sword to flare. The holy fire burst forth as it had before, melting the snow that fell around it and casting eerie, dancing shadows on the walls of the ruined church.
This was just another devil to take down, by the will of Solarus. Friedrich's grip tightened on his sword as he continued his advance, his eyes locked on the skeletal figure
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The skeleton hadn't even noticed the man when he entered the church, only really noticing him when he heard something hissing from the other end of the church. He knew trouble when he saw it, and just looking at the man advancing towards him, his sword looking like a small inferno, it didn't take a genius to know the man was going to kill him. The skeleton looked around quickly as the man walked before noticing a large hole in the wall behind him. Looking back at the man, the skeleton bobbed his head before he turned and ran for his life. It sounded as though the man hadn't been expecting him to run, almost as though he thought he was actually going to fight him, and already he could hear yelling as he jumped through the hole in the church wall and took off into the forest outside. Cold air whipped past him as he bolted into the dense woodland.
The skeleton stumbled through the snow-covered forest, the trees a blur as he sprinted. Occasionally, he would turn around to see how close the man was to him, only to find him maybe two or so meters away, screaming bloody murder as he swung his sword. The sight was terrifying and almost comical in a way—a heavily armed warrior chasing a clattering skeleton, flames dancing wildly with each swing. Had he been a bystander watching this, he would have laughed as hard as he could but he wasn't as he narrowly dodged a falling tree branch. It was honestly a miracle that he hadn't set anything on fire with how much he was swinging that thing around. The forest seemed alive with obstacles, branches scratching at his bones, and roots seemed to conspire against him, determined to make his trip. Yet, despite the treacherous terrain, he still slid and ran, driven by sheer fear.
As he ran, the skeleton's mind raced just as fast as he was running. He had no idea where he was going or how long he could keep this up. His legs were beginning to feel a little weird like he was losing feeling in them and he wasn't sure how long it would be until he couldn't feel them anymore. The landscape wasn't helping either as it was more or less a snowy maze, each twist and turn barely even registering as he focused solely on evading his relentless pursuer. The man's shouts grew louder, the heat from the sword closer with every moment. The forest was thick, but not thick enough to completely shield him from the fiery wrath on his heels. He felt the heat burn him sometimes if the man got too close to him to swing. Each turn of his head confirmed the worst: the man was still there, unwavering in his chase but panting just as hard.
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Eventually, after running for what felt like an eternity, the skeleton burst out from the forest and onto the side of a great river. Its surface moved rapidly towards the east with small chunks of ice bobbing on the surface. He skidded to a halt, the sight of the wide, flowing water giving him pause as he stood at its edge. He looked around, seeing if there was any way to get across the river but there wasn't, and turning around, he looked just in time to see the man burst from the woods, panting heavily. Small cuts on his face bled slowly, evidence that the forest hadn't only conspired against the skeleton but him as well.
The man pointed his sword at him, the flames a lot dimmer now than they were before but still burning, and spoke in some sort of foreign language.
"I…fénar tu finaré, fils de…barth. Atu ben…hidér? He said, taking deep breaths of air with every couple of words. The skeleton wasn't quite sure what he was saying but whatever it was, he clearly meant it since he was spitting every single word as he walked towards him menacingly. Taking a step back, the skeleton felt the back of its feet touch the water, the cold feeling spreading through his lower bones.
He was trapped.
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The river Oka ran through much of the region, a lifeline that connected many towns and villages to the trade cities of the south. It was here, at one of its many edges, that Friedrich had cornered the skeleton. He breathed heavily, holding his sword at the ready. He hadn't expected the skeleton to run like that, much less for over four miles without stopping. Whatever magic animated it was truly evil if it was able to make it so far without showing any signs of degradation, which made exterminating it even more of a priority.
Friedrich tightened his grip on the hilt of his holy sword, the holy fire still burning true, though dimmer than before. The abomination needed to be destroyed before it could cause any harm. His breath formed clouds in the cold air as he advanced, his eyes never leaving the skeletal figure. Every step he took was filled with purpose, driven by his unwavering resolve to cleanse the world of this heresy.
Stepping forward, he made his way toward the skeleton. After all, there was nowhere for it to go anyway. He could see the panic in the creature's glowing green eyes, its skeletal form trembling as it backed away. Yet, as he stepped closer, the skeleton's gaze shifted to the river. It was at that moment that Friedrich also acknowledged the river. He had seen it of course but its actual presence had gone somewhat unnoticed at that moment. The sight of the rushing water sparked an idea in both their minds simultaneously.
As Friedrich got closer, just 2 meters away, the skeleton began to turn. The templar understood the creature's intent in an instant. "No, you don't!" he shouted, rushing forward. The urgency in his voice was matched by the urgency in his movements. He screamed as he swung his sword, the flames flickering wildly as he closed the distance. But just as his sword was about to land, the skeleton leaped into the river.
The icy water swallowed the skeleton instantly, the dark sigils on its bones flickering briefly before being snuffed out by the depths. Friedrich skidded to a halt at the river's edge, his heart pounding with adrenaline. He watched as the skeleton disappeared beneath the surface, the river's current quickly carrying it away.
"Damn it!" he screamed, his voice echoing over the roaring water. He scanned the surface, hoping for any sign of the creature, but the river had already swept it away. The cold, churning water was too treacherous to dive into after it, and he knew that searching downstream would be nearly impossible with how far the river stretched. The realization filled him with frustration as he stood helplessly by the riverbank.
Panting heavily, Friedrich sheathed his sword, the flames extinguishing with a loud hiss. He stood there for a moment, collecting his thoughts. The abomination had escaped, and now he had to report to his superiors about both his failure to stop the cult and for letting their summon get away. Giving the river a final hate-filled glare, he turned and began the long walk back to where he had come from. The cold wind bit at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the burning anger inside him.
Despite the setback, Friedrich was determined not to let the creature get far. He replayed the chase in his mind, analyzing every detail and every mistake. His resolve hardened with each step, and he silently made a vow to Solarus to track down the abomination, no matter how long it took nor how far it took him. The river might have taken it from him for now, but Friedrich knew that dark magic left traces, and he would find those traces. One way or another, the hunt would continue, and he would see this mission through to the end.