Villagers ran for their lives as the fog crept through the field. Like the ocean tide, the magical phenomenon had receded only to come back with a vengeance this morning. Whatever defeat the paladins had given the dullahan seemed as if it had already been forgotten. Screams of terror merged with a disturbing rattling sound—skeleton warriors, Alistair realized.

Alistair and Dogan hustled out of the village as people ran by. Some of them pointed toward the field and shouted something, but most were too scared to say anything useful. The paladins understood the gist. Another wave of the undead, this time in the morning, and unfortunately by the sounds of it they had managed to catch some of the peasants unaware.

Entering the fields of wheat, Alistair saw abandoned farm equipment littered all over. As soon as trouble reared its ugly head the people had quickly abandoned their morning tasks. With luck, the majority might have managed to get away.

Things grew eerily quiet as they marched through the knee-high crop. Visibility was at an all-time low again. The mist enveloped them. It swept around and cut off their route back to town. This trick was getting old.

“Dogan?” Alistair glanced over his shoulder to check the summoner was still there. He held his pikestaff at the ready, wary of an ambush.

The shorter paladin stood with his shield and sword, eyes on the mist. “Yes?”

“Are you the type to make up strategies on the go?” He wondered if he was working with another Ilvara, or a Kevin instead.

Dogan grunted, as if to laugh. “Believe it or not, caution is one of my better qualities,” he said. “Let’s just try and not get separated in this mist. I’m not interested in a shouting match again this early.”

“Fair enough,” Alistair replied. Their argument from before was better saved for another time. “What do you sug—”

A scream interrupted him. It came from further in the mist. A man’s voice, tinged with the very real sense of excruciating pain. The sound went as quickly as it came. Alistair made to move in that direction, to try and save them.

“Wait!” Dogan yelled after him. “They’re just trying to lure us in deeper.”

“But—”

“Hold, Alistair!” The paladin repeated himself, his voice deathly serious. Any hint of playfulness or drunken lilt was gone. “We’ll only give them the advantage if we go along with the tune they’re playing. And if we die here, the rest of the village is truly doomed.”

He made a fine point. Alistair took a step back and remained in close formation with Dogan. A perfect copy of the summoner spawned from his armor’s backside, then another came after it. That made four paladins in the field—suddenly their odds had improved. In a practiced configuration, the doppelgangers put their backs to each other and to Dogan, giving their trio a commanding view of the battlefield.

With a flick of his wrist, Dogan summoned his wraith spirit again. The ghostly figure floated in front of its master, head bowed and silent. With but a single finger forward, the summoner sent it deeper into the mist. With a sword and lantern in its hands, the summon went to greet its old undead comrades.

“I’ll use the wraith to disrupt their plans,” Dogan said, his helm hiding what must have been a grin of confidence. He didn’t sound panicked at all. “No risk to us. We can’t let them get comfortable.”

“I can draw them in if you want.” Alistair knew his Living Shield could come in handy there. “My powers can force them to come to us.” He thought about it, then shrugged. “Well, me specifically.”

Dogan sized him up, his stance loosening. “I admit I’m not as familiar as I’d like to be with the Aegis and its powers. If you can do that, then we might be able to spin the advantage back around.”

“Alright, but first let me do this.”

Alistair used his Inspire ability and let it sweep through the summoner and his copies. The magical energy extended through the fog for a bit. He wondered for a moment if it would work on the wraith. Regardless, Alistair’s allies glowed for a moment as the buff took hold of their bodies; the combat enhancement would last for ten minutes now, a long time in the heat of combat.

Dogan took a deep breath and flexed his arms. “Not bad,” he said. “I’d never have guessed a big one like you could strengthen allies. You seemed more of the brawler type.”

“It certainly has its uses,” Alistair replied.

In the distance, they heard the sounds of weapons clashing against one another. The wraith must have made contact with the undead ranks. Alistair didn’t know the strength of a wraith, especially not a summoned one, but he knew it wouldn’t be able to win the day on its own. So, as he promised, he deployed the Living Shield ability to drag the enemy’s attention back their way.

The crimson pulse of magic shot out of him and into the fog. Again the silence was broken when the air filled with the wails of the dead. They had taken the bait. Beneath them, the tilled ground shook from the enemy’s approach. Sounds of bones rattling and clanking together grew louder.

“Wights, and lots of them,” muttered Dogan. He hefted his kite shield up to better cover his chest, with the doppels copying him. “There’s a chance the dullahan is with them. It will wait for us to tire before showing itself.” The summoner looked up at the red giant. “Don’t let your guard down.”

Alistair nodded, his mind too focused on the enemy somewhere in front of them. He didn’t have to wait long.

From out of the mist came a loose formation of skeleton warriors. Wights, as Dogan had called them. Like the last time he’d fought these creatures, they wielded an assortment of rusting weapons from centuries-old battlefields. The first one to get close had a shortsword raised high above its head, leading the charge of its enraged brethren. In its rush to charge, it had failed to raise the shield it held in the other hand.

A fatal mistake. Alistair sent his pike forward with the kind of speed one wouldn’t expect from the Aegis. The force of the blow shattered the monster's skull. Like most living creatures, the head remained a vulnerable weakness to these skeletons. The bones of the fallen wight fell to the ground and crumbled to dust, all in the few seconds it took for Alistair to turn his attention to the next target.

These front ranks were filled with swordsmen, which all made for easy kills given Alistair’s reach advantage. The spearmen took longer to arrive, and as they did, they too were separated and vulnerable. Wights functioned not so different to a formation of men-at-arms. Appropriate, given that many of them were just that in their former lives. Even in undeath, their magically bonded bodies were subject to the weight of their weapons. And, despite the lack of flesh and blood to protect, they needed a formation of readied shields to properly protect themselves from a paladin’s powerful attacks.

The Living Shield ability had paid for itself in spades by removing their orderly formations. If the dullahan had been giving them strict orders, those commands now fell on deaf ears. It was a free-for-all.

Dogan and his doppels performed particularly well during the ensuing melee. With shields and swords, they lacked Alistair’s reach but made up for it in mobility. Their attack damage, speed, and accuracy even were all improved thanks to the previous Inspire. Another advantage was that the enemy’s sole focus remained on Alistair. It allowed the trio to walk the battlefield with literal impunity, cutting down skeletons as they made a beeline for Alistair from every side. They fanned out around Alistair’s vulnerable back and shield bashed, shoulder checked, and sliced through whatever enemy got too close.

Minutes passed as the fight ground on. What began as something of a curb stomp eventually turned into an even fight as Living Shield wore off. The undead were free to think for themselves again, the magic-induced rage gone. Battle slowed as the wights used this opportunity to regroup back into effective fighting formations. Blocks of a dozen bony spearmen marched ahead as if to a drum beat, each in perfect lockstep with the other.

Meanwhile, out from the mists on Dogan’s side, a new challenger took to the battlefield. Another wight, but this one had decked itself out in a full set of chainmail. It stood a foot taller than its brothers, shoulders more wide and bulky. An ‘Elite’ version, a guardian wight as the Sight labeled it. The creature beat the iron-banded shield in its left arm with an antiquated longsword, rallying other wights to its side. With its sword arm outstretched, it singled out Dogan as the paladin slashed through an already half-broken ribcage.

As if this wasn’t bad enough, from the skies it began to rain. Not water as one would expect, but steel instead. Arrowheads fell from wight archers in the distance, and they were well-aimed despite the ever-present gray haze. This forced Alistair to stay light on his feet, always moving. Dogan and his doppelgangers had the benefits of shields to protect themselves, but it slowed them down and left them vulnerable to a direct attack.

Alistair kept his focus on the block of spearmen in front of him. They had their shields up and overlapping with one another. Their spears were ready to skewer him from behind the relative safety of their porcupine tactic. What he wouldn’t give for another one of those ‘bombs’ Ilvara had used before. All he had was the pike and a few feet of height advantage over the enemy, and that wouldn’t get him far.

He paced around the encroaching group to try and find a vulnerability. To the credit of the wights, they expertly shifted the front of their line to follow Alistair’s attempt to flank them. They weren’t subject to the same limitations a living group of men were, as even the most well-trained unit wouldn’t be so fast. That left him with very few options to overcome them without getting surrounded and overwhelmed.

As he readied his pike again, he was reminded of its sturdiness and how he’d used it as an improvised club yesterday. The enemy’s spears, as dangerous as their iron and steel tips were, were still made with desiccated wood staffs. That gave Alistair an idea. He raised his pike over his shoulder just as he did before and planted his knees.

Wait for it.

A second passed, and they took two more steps toward him.

Wait for it…

Another couple of steps, and they were close enough.

“Now!” Alistair swung out with all his strength. Not at the guarded line of skeletons, but instead at their extended spears.

The blade of his pike cut through the first few spears like a woodcutter’s axe. This completely neutered them, leaving the skeletons without a sharp end to poke him with. He kept up the momentum and swept through more of the line before half of them managed to raise their spears out of the way.

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Alistair’s minor victory was punctuated with a stabbing pain in his shoulder. He glanced to see the shaft of an arrow sticking out of his curved pauldron. Another hit him in the thigh. The paladin flinched a moment as more arrows rained down around him. He’d stayed in one spot for too long.

He caught a glance of the other side of the battlefield, just in time to see either Dogan or one of his doppels sail through the air. The wight guardian’s shield arm was half-raised, as if it had just used the round shield to push the paladin away. It marched forward and stabbed down into the wheat-covered field. Now there was only Dogan and one of his doppels, and they regrouped together to face off against the wight guardian and its thrall of lesser swordsmen.

I have to go help him!

The arrow fire had ceased and Alistair was free to move. His enemies were closer now, some armed only with the shattered ends of their staffs. Alistair charged forward into their formation and batted aside their feeble attempts to club and skewer him. With both sides at a disadvantage this close, Alistair used his own body as an effective weapon. When he couldn’t properly bash them with either end of his pike, he used a well-placed fist or knee to break their guard. These wights fell quickly to a sustained melee; they simply didn’t have the health to stand up to multiple blows like shamblers. Without their shields and spears, they were nothing but walking piles of dust.

His enemies disappeared at his feet and Alistair found himself free from combat, if only for a moment. It was at this point he watched the wraith spirit fly from behind the enemy lines and race to aid its master. Alistair noticed it came from the rough direction he had assumed the arrows had been coming from. Perhaps he had it to thank for destroying the archers. He followed behind it, eager to finish the fight with his ailing allies.

Across the field, Dogan and his doppelganger weaved around each other as they charged the guardian. The tactic must have been meant to confuse the elite on who to target, and it was forced to split its attention as the two suddenly broke away from each other on either side of the creature. Lesser wight swordsmen stepped to the fore and used their bodies to slow down the summoner’s advance. This bought their leader time to reposition and focus on what Alistair soon realized was Dogan’s final clone. It suffered a vicious sword through its back, already surrounded by enemies, and then dissipated into nothingness.

Before the guardian could move onto the main opponent, it found itself locked in combat with the much faster wraith. The spirit floated around the armored skeleton with impressive dexterity. It almost resembled something of a duelist as it parried and blocked blows with just one hand, while the wight was forced to use both its sword and shield to stand its ground.

Dogan used this opportunity to clear himself of the wights surrounding him. He blocked sword blows with his shield and pushed the attacks aside. The skeletons that were overextended soon saw their arms, chests, and skulls taken apart with his expert use of the sword. For all of his flaws, Dogan was certainly a fighter of some repute.

Alistair at this point reached the melee and speared through the nearest wight, further alleviating Dogan of pressure. The tide had fully turned at this point. No more enemy reinforcements came from outside the battleground. He was disappointed that the dullahan had failed to show itself at all. Was it still toying with them? Could an undead even fathom the concept?

He stuffed those thoughts into the back of his mind and focused on winning the day. Together, he and Dogan managed to clear the riff-raff from the field. All it left was the wight guardian, who was still engaged in vicious combat with the summoned wraith. It blocked one of the specter's counterattacks with its shield, and then followed up with a strike of its own. The wraith tried to flicker away as it had done before, but this time the attack came too quickly and the guardian’s blade managed to pierce its incorporeal robes. Somehow, the physical weapon managed to inflict damage on the spirit, and the summon fell apart with a silent scream of agony aimed at the heavens.

Before the wight could even turn around, Alistair and Dogan were practically on top of it. His pike flew through the skeletons back and out the other end, chainmail be damned. Unperturbed, the creature’s bones rattled as it turned to face its attacker, a spearhead still sticking in it. The wight raised its blade, and Alistair had to choose to either let go of his weapon and step out of the way, or take the attack.

Dogan ensured neither would need to come to pass. With an expertly aimed downward slash, he cut the wight’s sword arm off. In the same motion, he followed through and took a leg out from under it, forcing the creature to the ground. The wight was defenseless now as it struggled to right itself, still on its stomach.

Alistair pulled his pike free and readied it above his head for a final blow.

“Wait!” Dogan shouted, his weapon sheathed. “Not with that.” When he was satisfied Alistair wouldn’t attack, he focused his attention on the wight. “Come here, you ugly bastard.” The creature attempted to roll over, but Dogan knelt on its back. His free hand hovered over the skull with a strange energy gathering in it. “You killed my doppels and my wraith. I think I’m owed something.”

Alistair watched in silent wonder as the summoner seemed to suck the literal soul out of the wight. The blue flames that had burned in the eye sockets of the creature were snuffed out and gathered in the swirling vortex in Dogan’s hand. As he watched, the Sight told Alistair this was some sort of ability called ‘Essence Capture’, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what that entailed. Before long, the wight’s body had completely disappeared, not even its armor remained. All of it had been absorbed by Dogan.

The summoner made a fist as his body shook with this new power. He turned to Alistair. “Not bad, eh?”

Aegis Mantle

Level 6 Unlocked

Universal Damage Resistance

25% -> 27.50% total resistance.

Knockout | Passive

13% -> 14% Stun chance

Internal Damage | Passive

22.50% -> 25% Damage on resisted attacks

Adaptive Armor | Ability

1 minute duration -> 3 minute duration

New!

Dig In | Passive

When the Aegis is standing still or marching while holding a shield, they receive a 5% bonus to Missile Deflection and Shield Armor strength.

Alistair smiled as he read the notification. “Not bad at all.”

----------------------------------------

“Three dead that we could find,” said Alistair, his face sullen. He and Dogan had returned to the village and the people had gathered again, under the lead of Tamas. It was to the alderman they reported the casualties directly.

Dogan took a step forward, holding his arm in front of Alistair as if to shield him from the villagers’ reactions. “It could have been worse,” he said, his voice surprisingly tender. “We’re dealing with a powerful leader of the undead. Given the fact it's already attacked your village twice, three dead is practically a miracle.”

“We just want it all to end, milord. So we can get back to our lives.” Tamas massaged his thoroughly wrinkled brow. “How much longer will it take?”

Alistair looked to the summoner for answers. Over time he’d been getting the hang of his powers and how to fight, but he knew little of tactics and strategy. He certainly wasn’t an expert on dullahans either. They’d seen neither hide nor hair of it during either battle. The fog had receded a bit after their victory but still, it remained on the horizon, taunting them with their failure to vanquish the evil fully.

Dogan rocked on his feet, looking pensive. “We’ve suffered through the worst of it, I’d like to believe,” he said. Alistair picked up a hint of doubt in his voice. Apparently, Dogan wasn’t sure of the answer either. “Our best chance is to continue to hold the village until the evil spirit takes the field personally. Then we,” he gestured to Alistair and then to himself, “will finish it off. That should put things to an end.”

A voice from the crowd spoke up. “Perhaps we should all make for Fallkirk?” Folk murmured to themselves, some nodding along with the idea. It was only half a day’s walk, Alistair knew that from personal experience.

“You’d be marching through the fog,” Dogan reminded them, his voice raised. He looked agitated by the suggestion. “Your group would be totally defenseless. And it’s much easier for us to guard you when you’ve got four walls and a sturdy door.”

Again, Dogan raised a good point. Even if they traveled with the group, they’d still be vulnerable on the road. There were too many elderly and children. The pace to keep everyone moving would be way too slow.

“Besides that, you shouldn’t abandon your homes,” Alistair said. “If we run away, we only let the undead further into the duchy unopposed.” He patted his chest. “I’m from Wyrdwood, right near the border. The fear of the undead is something I’m familiar with.” Alistair glanced at Dogan and the man gave him a curt nod of approval. Keep going, he must have meant. “But you can’t lose heart. The Lady is watching over us. She’s blessed you with not one, but two paladins! We can’t lose.”

The people gathered began to clap and cheer. It wasn’t much of a speech but it seemed to work. Not all of them were satisfied, but those that weren’t were cowed by their peers into remaining quiet. Alistair would consider it a victory.

“Very well, we’ll stay,” said Tamas, nodding as he did. “But apart from keepin’ ya fed and given’ ya a place to sleep, there ain’t much else we can do.”

“Wait, alderman,” a feminine voice said. From the crowd strolled Ava along with a familiar group of children. “There’s one other thing we can do.” She turned to the children and stooped to their level. “Well, wasn’t there something you all wanted to give these brave men?”

Alistair and Dogan exchanged nervous glances as the children approached with something in their hands. They lined up and presented their gifts, small wood carvings made to resemble the Lady. He recognized the practice as being common among lowborn. Such trinkets were meant to represent a protective charm, to shield the owner from harm. Almost every child had made one. There must have been near a dozen of them.

Neither of the paladins had ever received such a gift. Alistair graciously accepted the charms in his outstretched hands. He saw Dogan awkwardly take them as well, though he looked a bit more uncomfortable than Alistair about the ritual.

“Thank you,” said Alistair. He clutched the tokens close. “I’m sure this will help bring us victory that much quicker.”

“Yes…thanks,” Dogan echoed him, albeit with less enthusiasm. He held up one token to get a better look at it, his grimace slowly deepening.

“One more thing,” said Ava. The children scattered as the young girls of the village came forward and laid flower wreaths around their necks. “One last luck charm from all of us. We’ve prayed every night for your vic—”

“L-Look!” Someone interrupted her, pointing toward the fog.

Everyone quickly realized the undead magic was getting closer to the village again. Another wave, this fast? Alistair couldn’t believe how relentless this enemy was. The dullahan just wouldn’t give in. He supposed that was why the undead host was so hated, why even after hundreds of years they had never been truly defeated.

Dogan gave the encroaching mist one hard look before turning back to Tamas. “Get your people inside. I’ve got a feeling this might be the one we’ve been waiting for.” He then turned to Alistair. “Let’s go.”

Alistair nodded. He quickly stuffed the protective idols in his pockets. When he made to follow after Dogan, he felt a tap on his shoulder. When the paladin turned, he was greeted by a kiss on the lips.

“Good luck,” Ava whispered, smiling. She patted him on the shoulders and snickered when he began to blush. “That’s twice now I think I made you blush.”

Alistair stuffed those feelings of embarrassment away. “Get yourself someplace safe, alright?” He made his voice as firm as he could. “You hear me? Get you and your family behind a proper door and find a place to hide.”

“You’re going to win, aren’t you?” she asked, anxious now.

"Of course, but..." Alistair didn’t know what else he could say to her. His confidence wavered for a moment. Then, a sudden thought occurred to him. He smiled, struck by inspiration. "The innkeeper has a cellar. Go there maybe, with the children. More of them will fit down there I bet. Just in case, you know?"

“Alistair!” Dogan’s call made him whip around. “Hurry up, dammit! This is it!”

With one more glance at Ava and the emptying street, Alistair chugged a potion of rejuvenation and ran after Dogan. Midstride he transformed into his armor. Despite the real threat of death facing him, his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t stop repeating the words Ava had whispered to him.

Of course they would win. That's what it meant to be a paladin, right?