Semian the black pulled thick fingers through greasy black hair and cursed himself for being slow. His now visible forehead glistened with sweat, and the furrows across its shiny surface were deep as he surveyed the empty cave mouth of the outpost. It had yesterday been a bustling center for information and research, now it was a ruin with corpses strewn across every corridor and pathway.
"34 bodies in total, but no sign of the target."
Thorn came to Semian's side, his shuffling walk and stooped back belying the power of a senior necromancer. He wore an tight-fitting indigo robe with gold threading that glinted in the light of the torches flickering down the corridor. His wrinkled hands were clasped behind his back as he spoke in that nasal tone of his. Semian's mouth tightened into a thin line as he processed the man’s words. "How did they die?" he asked distractedly.
Thorn gestured toward the dead woman outside the entrance, which made Semian blow out a breath of frustration. "Figured," he muttered. "Any survivors?"
"Two. Some youngling named Cassius and a young servant, apparently he’d been teaching her demon-lore in his chambers as the attack happened."
"How very lucky.”
”Yes lord. Your orders?”
”Kill them, then raise them with the others.”
The senior necromancer bowed his head in deference, and went inside to help the others raise their killed comrades and do as he was told, as Semian stood silent, once again cursing himself for being slow. Had he been faster, the target might have been his right now. The necromancers inside would still have had to die, of course, but at least their death would have served a purpose.
Stupid wench. He trudged over to the dead woman, crushing vegetation beneath his large body encased in leather and chain mail. The heavy armour was hot in the sun and sat tight against his belly, which had grown over the years, but he refused to forfeit protection for comfort. Once this ordeal was over, perhaps he would commission for some new armour. Yes, he'd like that very much.
As he came closer, he noticed her neck and cursed silently. So that madman is here too.
The sight of his childhood friend lying lifeless in the dirt stirred memories of their shared past, when they were training with their master. The carefree days spent learning the ways of a necromancer – how to kill a man with dark magic and how to raise him afterward, or how to summon demons and have have them do their bidding – seemed like a lifetime ago. He felt no sorrow as he stared at her corpse; instead, he quietly spat on her corpse and turned away. Let the crows take you.
"Lord, my lord, I think I know where they are!" A sudden shout drew his attention. Warwick, his ever-loyal houndsman, came running through the jungle, his signature mace in hand. He stopped in front of his lord, panting for breath.
Semian the black smiled. Looks like his cause wasn't lost after all.
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Prometheus and Ezra had been running for hours. They were exhausted, but they kept pushing on, desperately trying to reach the end of the jungle before any more hounds caught up with them. Every meadow, gully and glade sent a new wave of snarling creatures at them – beasts created by a mixture of corpse-magic and science so doggedly persistent and relentless that it made Prometheus’ mind reel merely to think about it.
Ezra had said these creatures were born of corpse-magic and science, designed to hunt and maim. Prometheus in return asked him what science entailed, in a rare moment of respite, but all he got in reply was a shake of the head and unintelligible mumble.
It was in the middle of the night when the lizard-beast could run no more. As they were about to get up and run again, it wouldn't rise, its breath laboured and heavy. As Prometheus stood looking at it, Ezra walked over, unsheathed his sword, and slashed though skin and bone. A thick, meaty head fell to the ground; and a headless corpse spurted red, tangy blood all over the jungle floor. Ezra stood over the corpse, face unreadable as he methodically set about slicing up the body with precision. With a dry piece of hide, he wiped down his bloody sword.
"To mask our scent," he said simply before crouching down and pressing handfuls of plants and soil from the jungle onto himself, rubbing grasses and stems against his armour. Prometheus shrugged and copied him, running the leaves and stems along his now stained clothing. Ezra then began scattering pieces of the dead animal amongst their surroundings in an attempt to throw their pursuers off track. They started moving again after that, and continued just until daybreak – when Ezra directed them off the path again. Though in truth, it couldn't be called a path at all, simply scattered game trails the vampire somehow knew how to navigate along.
"I was hoping we could avoid this method, it is a bit crude for my taste," he said, "but it seems our pursuers won't give up. And I cannot escape with you the normal way."
Prometheus followed Ezra through thick undergrowth on an upward slope until they crested the rise before them. The black ghoul's eyes widened as he saw what was ahead of them.
The valley stretched out, its slopes steep and jagged with an endless carpet of emerald grass reflecting the warm glow of the sun. Wildflowers dotted the meadow in vibrant hues of yellow and orange, contrasting with the deep green foliage of ancient trees whose gnarled branches provided shade from the heat.
A waterfall cascaded down from high above, tumbling over a sheer cliff face to crash into a peaceful pool below. The air was filled with the misty spray of cooling droplets which sparkled like little diamonds as they caught the light.
Prometheus and Ezra slowly approached the base of a thundering waterfall, and as they drew nearer, he noticed movement in the rocky alcove. Wooden structures dotted the landscape, perched atop stone foundations and surrounded by an imposing wall of aged wooden planks. Figures moved within and outside the settlement, but they were unlike any being Prometheus had ever seen - not human, nor undead like him.
"Beastmen," Ezra explained, crouching beside him. "They have scattered tribes through the jungle, this is the closest one to the outpost."
The beastmen were each with unique features that blended human and animal attributes into one incredible creature. Some boasted fur-covered bodies, sharp claws, or fierce eyes. Others sported tails, wings, or horns atop their heads. The little ones played in the waterfall's misty spray while chasing each other around the outskirts of town.
The larger beastmen worked diligently at their crafts - weaving intricate baskets, carving ornate wooded sculptures, or even playing music on crude instruments fashioned from animal bones. They moved about their tasks with precision and care, each absorbed in their own work but aware of their surroundings, though they hadn't yet noticed the interlopers.
Prometheus couldn't help but marvel at the ingenuity and creativity displayed by these beastly-looking humanoids. He, of course, knew what beastmen were– little Artemis had spoken often about them while the two divine beings had still been on friendly terms, but he'd never seen them in the flesh, only from above. It was completely different, to truly see and experience, instead of simply obesrving.
The two undead, covered in soil and sap, slowly made their way around the bank, through undergrowth, staying low to avoid the beastmen who kept a watchful gaze on their little ones. Ezra then signalled for them to wait, which they did.
After about an hour of peaceful silence, a commotion tore through the village and a horn blew. The little ones all looked up in alarm, and were frantically herded inside by the larger beastmen as chimeras tore through the nearby jungle, down the slope, and into the valley, aroused by the slaughtered lizard they had stumbled upon in this hunt. And as they saw prey, though it wasn't what they were hunting, they couldn't help themselves, the mindless creatures they were.
Some of the grown beastmen met the hounds as they charged, their claws, talons and paws crushing bone and sinew like caked mud. The chimeras were many, but the beastmen were mighty. Although some fell, most survived until reinforcements came from the gate, clad in pelts of different kinds, carrying clubs, hammers and spears. Most loped on all four as they ran, madness and anger flaring in their golden, slitted eyes.
Prometheus slowly spun towards Ezra, whose wide grin and gleaming red pupils exposed a craving for the violence that was unfolding by the second. He noticed the black ghoul watching him and raised his white eyebrows in question.
Is this what he meant... by a crude method? The black ghoul gave him a silent nod, which seemed to satisfy the vampire who turned back to watch the bloody spectacle. There was a wildness in his eyes, an unhinged glee that left no doubt that he enjoyed what he was seeing. The black ghoul snapped out of his reverie state as the vampire signalled with a wave of his hand for them to move on. They inched through the dense foliage again, but on the other side of the riverbank, until eventually emerging on the far end of the valley, starting their climb upward. And just like that, they had escaped their pursuers.