Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 38 - Sins of apathy - Part Two
Standing before the portal, I felt a momentary flicker of fear and subtle tremor pass through my chest. All the same, I felt no inclination to step away.
Preliminary reports by the Rangers and Scouts confirmed that the original foothold had been heavily fortified with crude high stone walls and siege engines. Smaller fortresses flanked the foothold and a larger fortress blocked off the portal to the second floor. Wild or otherwise uncontrolled packs of undead monsters roamed the largely desolate landscape endlessly, their sixth sense allowing them to gradually home in on living prey.
Four Scouts had already died, hunted down and killed by Vampyrs, making it abundantly clear that delaying the invasion would only allow the enemy to inflict further casualties. It was why the Colonel wanted to initiate the first assault and secure a beachhead that could serve as a rallying point.
Taking a deep breath, I straightened my back, squared my shoulders, and then stepped forward through the portal.
Continuing forwards to make room for Shady, the Serpent-Kin and Goblins following in my wake, I barely managed to take in the drab and dreary surroundings of the foggy moor before a high pitched whistling sound drew my attention to the right.
*Shink*
My head snapped back to my left as something struck the side of my helmet and left a trailing sheet of sparks before lodging itself in the boggy ground a dozen or so feet away.
Taking a few moments to overcome my surprise, I slowly recognised the wooden shaft for what it was. Either a spear or javelin, it was the ammunition from one of the enemy's siege engines.
*Thunk*
Another steel-tipped wooden shaft passed a few feet by my head.
Turning back to the right, a dark tower loomed atop a nearby hill, surrounded by a relatively low stone wall and entrenched earthworks.
Without really thinking, I began to move, slowly at first but increasing my stride with each new step. Cutting diagonally towards the tower, it became obvious that I was the primary target when another pair of javelins whipped through the gloomy twilight, narrowly missing my chest and legs.
Glancing over my shoulder, I could only make out the thinned fog marking my progress towards the tower. With no sign of the Goblins or Serpent-Kin, I could only assume that they were either sensibly laying low or remaining still to avoid attracting the siege gunners' attention.
My assumption was disproven as I caught a brief glimpse of a Goblin sprinting full tilt through the fog and towards the tower. However, the Goblin disappeared without a trace a fraction of a second later, leaving the fog seemingly undisturbed.
I could now make out shadowy figures rushing to and fro behind the earthworks, and a familiar buzzing sound.
Raising my right arm to shield my eyes, arrows began clattering against my armour like hail. Unable to clearly make out the tower past the bulk of my arm, I somewhat blindly adjusted course to make a more direct approach, confident I had given Shady, the Goblins and Serpent-Kin enough distance to reduce their chances of being caught by stray arrows and javelins.
*Broooooot!*
A horn sounded from the direction of the tower and was answered a handful of seconds later by another horn somewhere far to my left out in the fog. Three more horns gave staggered answers of their own shortly afterwards, making it abundantly clear that all of the enemy camps were not on high alert. Not particularly concerned, I had expected as much from the beginning.
*Slick*
I nearly tripped as a javelin impacted against an exposed section of my thigh and sent a jolt of pain racing through my nervous system. Feeling a faint throbbing from my thigh and warm wet sensation spreading down my knee, I was surprised to see that a gash had been opened in my thigh.
Almost impervious to harm until now, it took a few moments to accept what had happened. Feeling a familiar hunger taking hold in the depths of my stomach, I knew that the wound would soon close on its own. However, the fact that the javelins were a legitimate threat awakened atrophied survival instincts and forced me to begin questioning my recent choices.
I had ignored the Colonel’s requests and volunteered myself to serve as the tip of the spear, leading our invasion from the front. I had left my shield behind after convincing myself I wouldn’t need it. I was charging headlong towards siege engines that appeared to have no difficulties targeting me in spite of my speed or the dense fog.
I flinched as an arrow scraped the still closing wound.
Pushing forward, I resisted the urge to use Shadow Step and continued charging forward while doing my best not to stumble over the sodden ground.
Close enough now to hear angry shouting from up ahead, I redoubled my efforts and shielded my eyes with my left forearm while drawing a mace with my right.
With large wooden spikes protruding from the low earthwork walls and ditches, the recent reminder of my mortality made me think better of trying to plough straight through. Raising my arm slightly to increase my field of view, I scanned the earthwork defences for a sign of entry. Unable to find one, I realised that I would have to bypass them through other means.
“AAEEIAARGH-” A terrifying cry came from behind the low earthen wall, ending abruptly with a wet throaty gurgle.
More cries came from behind the wall, some made in fear, others in anger.
“REOOOOWR!” A feline roar preceded another terrified scream, making it clear that Shady had already breached the first layer of enemy defences.
Waiting until my foot was hovering over the open space of the outer trench, I gathered my mana and focused on the outer stone wall and braced myself for the short fall to the ground on the other side.
*Thump*
Landing on muddy wooden beams embedded in the ground, it took me only a few moments to realise that I was surrounded. However, it was also obvious that the Thralls were already too preoccupied with trying to form a defensive line against Shady to take advantage of my momentary state of imbalance.
*CRUNCH*
I brought my flanged mace down on the head of the closest Thrall, crushing his iron helmet, spattering its fellows with blood, bone and brain matter as my mace permanently fused his head and abdomen together.
Obviously in shock, the Thralls just stared back at me as I raised my mace again and then swept it through their ranks. The first Thrall was ripped in half, her crude breastplate ripping apart like wet cardboard as the wings of my mace pulped and tore through flesh and bone. The next Thrall fared little better, ruptured organs vomiting out of his mouth and spilling out of the gaping wound exposing his hip and spine.
The next two Thralls were thrown out and over the earthen wall, either tumbling down the hill or landing in one of the trenches.
“The Ogre!...” A Thrall further along the earthworks called out in surprise, “THE OGRE HAS BREACHED THE OUTER DEFENCES!!!”
Turning to face the Thrall, I felt a scattered hail of arrows clatter against the back of my helmet and breastplate. Ignoring them, I lumbered towards the Thrall and raised my mace for a backhanded blow.
The Thrall staggered backwards, fumbling to draw a shortsword from the sheath at his waist.
*Crunch*
The Thralls headless corpse fell to the ground, the shortsword only partially removed from the sheath.
Following along the wall, I was intercepted by a trio of more heavily armoured Thralls baring halberd-like polearms. They attacked without hesitation, thrusting the pointed blades of their weapons towards the exposed sections of my body.
*Clack, Clack*
I managed to knock two of the halberds aside with my mace, but my attempt at catching the shaft of the third halberd failed. Unfortunately for the Thralls it seemed they were not strong enough to pierce my hide. The pointed blade of the halberd scraped along my skin but failed to penetrate, succeeding only in ripping my tunic.
Faster than I anticipated, the trio of halberdiers leapt backwards, retracting their weapons out of my reach before suddenly charging forwards again. This time the blades of their weapons shone with shimmering white light.
Sensing an immense concentration of mana, it wasn’t difficult to imagine the implied danger the weapons now represented.
*Crunch*
Before the halberdiers had a chance to land an attack, I delivered a counterattack of my own, using Shadow Step to suddenly appear behind them and cave in the breastplate of the rightmost halberdier.
To their credit, the remaining pair of halberdiers seemed to take the shift of circumstances in stride, continuing their charge to get out of reach before suddenly reversing their grip and turning the blades of their halberds back in my direction.
*Crunch*
Staring the pair of halberdiers down, I stomped my booted foot through the midsection of their fallen companion and caused blood to erupt through the visor of their helmet and stain their britches.
One of the halberdiers kept his cool, slowly distancing himself from his remaining companion in order to prepare for a pincer attack. However, the second halberdier was visibly shaking, the tip of their halberd wavering as the white light intensified.
“FUCK YOU!!!” The halberdier screamed, charging recklessly straight towards me, “I’LL KILL Y-”
*Thunk*
The halberdier staggered and nearly fell as a dark feathered shaft appeared in his throat, “Y-YOUU-URGH...” Staggering forwards, the halberdier only managed a few steps before falling to his hands and knees, “You...” His red eyes glared balefully through the visor of his helmet.
*Shunk*
Another dark feathered shaft suddenly appeared in the halberdier’s right eye, snapping his head backwards and knocking him down onto the muddy sleepers.
“On your left, Sire,” a voice hissed quietly, a section of the nearby wall blurring unnaturally as the twilight refracted light around someone that was otherwise hidden from sight. “The beacon is activated and all forces are converging on this position.”
“Understood,” I rumbled in reply before warily approaching the remaining halberdier.
No doubt aware he was outmatched, the Halberdier surprised me when he decided to hold his ground. Angling himself in such a way to put the earthwork wall at his back so I wouldn’t be able to easily appear behind him, he held his halberd steady and waited.
Unfortunately, this left him blind to the pair of Goblins silently cresting the earthwork wall, and their knives inching towards his throat and visor.
The first Goblin drove its knife through the surprised halberdier’s visor, burying it in his left eye as the second Goblin began manically punching its own knife into the halberdier’s neck over and over again in feverish succession.
More Goblins crested the wall and helped drive the halberdier to the ground through sheer collective bodyweight, each bearing knives of their own and driving them into any gap or crevice in the halberdier's armour they could find.
Remembering the arrows that had been peppering me only a few moments before, I began making my way back around the earthworks to prevent any archers from gaining a clear line of sight against the tangled mass of Goblins.
I needn’t have bothered.
A half dozen Serpent-Kin and a pair of Rangers were already engaged in a bloody melee against a thinning crowd of Thrall archers. Receiving only minor injuries, the otherwise outnumbered Serpent-Kin and Rangers ignored their wounds and continued pressing hard into the collapsing ranks of the archers.
Shifting my attention to the squat tower at the top of the hill, I squinted suspiciously at the crenellated roof where the ballistae had grown silent and still. The angle of the hill was gradual enough that the ballistae should have been able to continue firing even after I entered the earthwork defences.
Leaving the earthworks, I approached the low stone wall ringing the tower. Standing beside the wall, I now understood why the ballistae had gone silent. The tower’s defenders were all dead. Thrall archers and swordsmen lay crumpled, torn and bloody against the inner wall and upon the ground.
Crouched low amongst the carnage, Shady tore hungrily at the spilled innards of a fallen Thrall. Covered in shallow wounds, and sporting a pair of broken arrow shafts lodged in his right shoulder, it was obvious that Shady was succumbing to the ravenous hunger of the Iron Gut synergy.
Scaling the wall, I moved to Shady’s side and assessed the state of the broken arrows lodged in his shoulder. Noting the teeth marks on the broken shafts, it suggested that Shady had perhaps attempted to remove them himself, but only succeeded in snapping the shafts.
“Steady,” I growled in warning, “This will hurt.”
Shady stopped his gorging for only a moment, his eyes staring back at me briefly before returning to his meal.
Taking a firm grip on the first broken shaft, I ignored Shady’s low rumbling growl of warning, pulling the shaft and reopening the wound as a broadhead arrowhead slipped free of Shady’s shoulder.
*Shkriek*
Shady’s body lurched to one side, hooking and allowing his other forepaw to slash across the abdominal plates of my breastplate.
Ignoring the enraged Shadowcat’s bared fangs, I took hold of the second broken arrow shaft and removed it like the first.
Shady took another feral swing, hissing and spitting as he hurriedly limped away and towards another corpse to feed upon.
Reminded of my own hunger, I absently pulled dried strips of jerky from a pouch on my belt, lifted my visor and then stuffed them in my mouth. Chewing absently, I looked out from the vantage afforded by the hilltop and could vaguely make out two other towers in the distance in addition to a much larger tall walled fortress.
Unable to see farther than a couple of dozen feet from the outermost earthworks because of the fog, I could still make out distant movements as the fog was disturbed. Unfortunately, there was no way of telling which approaching forces were friend or foe.
Too large to enter the tower, I patrolled the inner wall to find signs of any lingering resistance. There wasn’t any.
The combined forces of the Rangers, Goblins and Serpent-Kin had methodically culled all Thralls from the earthworks below and were in the process of scaling the hill to do the same with the tower.
Opening the gate to allow them entry, I needn’t have bothered. The wall was low enough that they were able to nimbly scramble up and over without any real trouble. Even the Goblins managed by using one another as living ladders, climbing atop one another’s shoulders.
Lacking a specific item to serve as a suitable Totem, I decided to improvise in a similar fashion to when claiming Sanctuary. Focusing my attention on the tower itself, I felt a faint pain in the front of my brain as the Pyrrhic Will Labyrinth Key activated and initiated my claim upon the surrounding territory.
To my initial surprise, the expected mandatory quest and countdown did not appear, instead, the pain in my head began to gradually intensify. Gradually overcoming my surprise, I realised what was wrong. The Liche held claim over the entire first floor, and a battle of wills was required before I would even be allowed the opportunity to claim territory of my own. I wasn't sure if contesting an existing Settlement would require the same contest first, so I clenched my teeth, set my jaw and braced myself against the intensifying pain.
As my hands began to shake and blood ran freely from my nose and eyes, I took a grim sense of satisfaction in that the key of Pyrrhic Will was inflicting pain upon the Liche in turn. As the pain began to dominate my thoughts, a part of me hoped the Liche wouldn’t back down, that she would stick it out and be destroyed.
Slowly drowning in the pain, struggling to breathe, I refused to back down, committed to dragging the Liche into the looming abyss.
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Vision fading, I felt the resistance suddenly disappear, an unfamiliar message appearing before my eyes as everything turned black.
[Mournbrent Labyrinth Settlement: East Watch (1st floor), has been {Captured} and will remain {Contested} for (24h) if not {Recaptured}.]
[Reconquest: 23h 59m 59s]
[Reconquest: 19h 24m 33s]
Focusing on the countdown in front of my eyes, I ignored the splitting migraine that was threatening to tear my head apart and willed myself into full awareness.
I was propped up against the outer wall of the tower, a makeshift barricade constructed from barrels, broken furniture, rope and Asrusian shields forming a crude shelter from both harm and prying eyes. To my surprise, Shady was draped protectively over my legs and a mound of Goblins and Serpent-kin formed a living barrier over my arms and chest.
It was only then that I realised how cold I was and how weak I felt. Lacking the strength to move, I could still hear the muffled shouting and cries of human soldiers and Thralls from outside.
A sudden flash of golden light proved too much for my already abused eyes and I passed out.
[Reconquest: 16h 13m 11s]
In addition to the number counting down in front of my eyes, the fearsome face of a Goblin matted in thick warpaint hovered just inches away from my own as small pieces of wet softened jerky were teased into my mouth.
Feeling considerably better than before, I realised that the efforts of the Goblin were almost certainly responsible.
“Eat,” the Goblin insisted, teasing more jerky between my lips and past my teeth.
Unable to quite manage to string the necessary words together, I stiffly opened my aching jaw and hoped the Goblin would understand.
The Goblin piled more jerky into my mouth and then waited until I swallowed before it began slowly emptying a waterskin into my mouth to wash it all down.
The cool water provided near-immediate relief, somewhat clearing my mind and making me aware of my fever. “More,” I croaked, wrinkling my nose in irritation as I became aware of my inflamed sinuses.
The Goblin nodded and continued feeding me more water until I closed my mouth and gently shook my throbbing head.
“Bark...From my pouch,” I tried to indicate the pouch on my right hip, but it hurt to move my eyes.
After fumbling through different pouches and sniffing diligently at different sticks of jerky, the Goblin discovered the folded strips of bark and held one up in front of my face, “This?” She asked uncertainly.
I tried to nod but winced as a fresh flash of pain lanced through my head, “Yes. put, in, my mouth,” I sighed, trying to keep my thoughts straight.
The Goblin obediently placed the folded bark into my mouth and patiently waited for another order.
I positioned the bark between my molars with my tongue and gathered as much saliva to that side of my mouth as I could manage and winced as I chewed the bark. Bearing with the pain, I continued to chew. Impatient for relief, I swallowed the willow infused saliva before repeating the process anew.
Relief came slowly at first but made it much more bearable to remain awake. All the same, the barricaded shelter had been added upon during my last bout of unconsciousness and I couldn’t hear much of anything besides my own partially obstructed breathing and the pounding in my head.
Trying to remember the exact phrasing of the message that had appeared before I first lost consciousness, I took some small measure of comfort in the fact that it had made no mention of wild monsters participating in the counterattack. Confident that a fight limited to the weaker Vampyrs and Thralls could be won with the synergies provided to the Asrusian soldiers, I closed my eyes and allowed my body the opportunity to heal in peace.
[Reconquest: 3h 13m 15s]
Only vaguely aware of a faint headache as I opened my eyes, I sighed in relief and began carefully moving my arms and legs as a signal that I was preparing to move and would need space.
The Serpent-Kin’ and Goblins hesitated for a moment before extricating themselves from the barricade and giving me space to move, albeit with some difficulty.
Stripped of most of my armour, probably to prevent the iron from leaching all my body heat, only my helmet had been left in place. Removing my helmet, I brushed the crusted blood from my face, faking particular care not to scratch my eyes. Still absently chewing the now pulped willow bark, I considered replacing it with a fresh piece but thought better of it after considering the potentially significant dosage of the painkiller I had already consumed.
Stiffly strapping on my armour, my eyes lingered on the new scar above my knee. Larger than I had expected, the scar was roughly the same length as my index finger and half as wide. The small amount of pain I had felt didn’t reconcile with the size of the scar and it irked me for reasons I didn’t quite understand.
Having replaced all of my armour and gulped down the contents of my waterskin, I was forced to wait while nearby soldiers and the Goblins dismantled one side of the improvised shelter so I could leave.
Leaving the shelter, I was surprised to find that the sky looked just the same as when I had first arrived, a perpetual twilight of gloom and overcast clouds.
The greater surprise came from looking out over the wall. The entire hillside and surrounding area had become entrenched and now resembled cinematic scenes from the first world war. Only instead of bolt action rifles and machine guns, the Asrusian soldiers and Thralls were exchanging scattered volleys of arrows, bolts and javelins.
From what I could see, which admittedly wasn’t much due to the pervasive fog, the Thralls were abandoning their own trenches en masse in concerted attempts to rush across no man's land and overrun the Asrusian trenches. Dead and dying Thralls formed mounds of improvised cover for each new wave of arrivals.
I could only imagine the shock and despair the enemy commander would feel if they knew the Asrusian soldiers had access to a near-infinite supply of ammunition. Then again, it was just as likely a Vampyr wouldn’t care in the slightest and would just continue sending the Thralls out to die all the same.
Curiously, the fog was showing signs of thinning out, but the absence of the sun left me scratching my head as to why. The fog's recession had now begun to reveal the collapsed forms of the deformed undead hulks the Liche had previously deployed against the Mournbrent grand cathedral. Comprised of multiple bodies stitched, wired, stapled and bolted into a single form, the tortured monstrosities were painful to look at in death but worse to look upon in unlife.
Dozens of these hulking monstrosities were already scattered around no man's land, sporting so many javelins and arrows that they almost resembled porcupines or echidnas.
The fighting had not been altogether one-sided. I could see four neat and almost complete rows of bodies, each contained in a large canvas sack, thoroughly bound and staked to the ground. I could only assume these additional steps for the fallen were some form of precaution against the Liche and her Necromancers, or perhaps even the Mournbrent Labyrinth, animating the corpses. At least with them bagged and bound, their former comrades would not need to look them in the face when they put them down for good.
An explanation for the scattered nature of the Thralls assaults soon revealed itself as Crypt Lurkers and other undead began wandering into no man’s land from the direction of the enemy fortress. All of the bloodshed was attracting the more cunning and opportunistic wild undead. Each new assault by the Thralls now required them to fight through the gathering undead in addition to the withering hail of arrows.
With the abundant prey in no man’s land, very few undead attempted approaching the tower, and those that did were promptly executed.
The enemy’s lack of control over the wild undead was somewhat confusing. Given the nature of the city of Mournbrent’s invasion, I had been led to expect that the Liche’s forces had some widespread means of controlling the mindless or feral undead. Yet the number of Necromancers, or even dark mages in general that I had encountered thus far could be counted on both hands, and that was including the Liche herself.
“Was it all her then?” I muttered gruffly, furrowing my brow thoughtfully. If it was true, then it made destroying her all the more important, justifying greater sacrifices in the pursuit.
Still feeling somewhat weak, I impatiently continued observing the ongoing conflict from behind the stone wall.
The Thralls continued their suicidal charges towards the trenches with ever-increasing numbers, but each passing hour had allowed the Asrusian soldiers to further fortify their trenches with rows of spikes and shielded ballistae emplacements.
As if to taunt the Liche’s commanders, the Colonel had Asrusian flags prominently flown atop the tower and all around the hillside. He went even so far to have a much larger flag draped around the tower and facing the distant fortress.
With less than an hour left on the timer, it was not at all surprising that the distant fortress showed signs of frantic activity.
In anticipation of a final desperate assault, all soldiers were called into active duty and patrols were tripled.
Most auxiliaries were still in reserve alongside the majority of the Asrusian soldiers, so it was strange to see the abbot and his small cadre of militant priests had managed to join the first wave of the invasion force. Wearing the standard-issue Asrusian armour I hadn’t noticed them until the abbot actively began drawing attention to himself near the frontmost trenches.
Not close enough to quite make out what he was saying, his impassioned and heavily emotive body language bore an unsettling resemblance to famous speeches given by charismatic dictators or late night televangelists. All the same, it seemed to have a bolstering effect on the frontline soldiers, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
With so many soldiers already occupying the trenches and the majority of the fighting being resolved at a distance, I remained atop the hill and continued recovering my strength. Strangely enough, the Goblins and Serpent-Kin remained as well. With my understanding that they had joined me for their revenge, I found it odd that they were not taking advantage of the entrenched position to vent their anger on the enemy.
Reflecting on how they had remained by my side and literally shielded my unconscious body from harm, I wondered if perhaps I had misunderstood them. I could still see raw anger and pain reflected in their eyes, but they showed no signs of wanting to join the front lines.
Noting the widespread disturbance of the fog in the distance, I was going to alert a nearby soldier but a Scout had noticed as well and was already trumpeting a warning.
Just judging by the disturbance in the fog compared to previous assaults, the Thrall force appeared to be four or five times larger than those that had come before. Likely numbering close to five hundred or more, it was almost guaranteed that at least one or two of the more powerful Vampyrs would be tagging along to spearhead the assault or otherwise create a breach for the Thralls to break through to the tower.
Knowing the enemy's primary target would be the tower made me feel somewhat better about skulking so far back from the fight. It made me a sort of final boss rather than a simpering coward.
As the front ranks of the enemy left the dense fog banks behind, they were revealed to be just more of the same generic Thrall infantry. The frontmost ranks were armed with shields and already had them held and braced in an interlocked shield wall.
Far from deterred, the Asrusian archers loosed arrows against the approaching Thralls with objectively foolish bravado. Accomplishing little more than slightly weighing down the Thralls shields, it wasn’t until the ballistae began firing javelins that the Thralls formation began taking any actual damage.
Lancing through the front rank of the shield wall, a javelin would gore the first two Thralls into the third Thrall down the line. Even so, the Thralls would silently close ranks again before more than a handful of arrows could take advantage of the temporary breach.
It wasn’t until the shield wall drew closer that I was able to notice the wounded Thralls left in the main forces' wake. Left for dead, they were soon prey for the wild undead. The combination of the unified approach and abandonment of the wounded worked to the Thralls advantage. Rather than harassing the approaching forces, all of the uncontrolled undead were either brushed aside or drawn to vulnerable Thralls left behind.
Even though I had no way of confirming it, it seemed obvious to me that at least one and very probably more Vampyrs had joined the assault. I was the only thing I could think of besides Enslavement that could cause someone to so stoically march like that to their death.
With a dozen ballistae firing javelins into their ranks, the Thralls numbers had more than halved by the time they had reached the charging distance of the outermost trenches. Despite their losses, this meant that they still maintained a numerical advantage of more than two to one over the Asrusian soldiers defending the tower.
The soldiers in the outer trenches changed to swords, shields and spears in anticipation of repelling the Thrall shield wall. However, just as the Thralls reached the spiked earthwork defences, the twelve closest Asrusian soldiers lost their heads in rapid succession before tumbling lifelessly to the ground.
A tall thin man brandishing a sabre and armoured in impossibly form-fitting black plate armour appeared in the trench amidst the fallen bodies. Even though he was too far away for me to be certain, and there was no way I could make out his eyes beneath his helmet, it looked like he was staring right back at me.
A scattered hail of arrows turned to splinters as the black armoured figure’s right arm and sabre blurred into motion. A pair of soldiers that had tried to take advantage of the distraction toppled to the ground as they each lost their respective heads before landing a blow of their own.
Casually sauntering down the length of the trench and towards the next cluster of soldiers, the figure suddenly paused and turned back the way it had come.
The Thralls were still attempting to clear a path through the spikes, but that did not seem to be the focus of his attention.
Following the black armoured Vampyr’s gaze down the trench, I was confused for a moment when I saw a soldier that had fallen to his knees, seemingly pleading for the Vampyr to spare his life. Bobbing his head and rocking back and pressing his clasped hand tightly against his forehead.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who had noticed. The trenches grew eerily quiet, allowing the soldier’s voice to carry much farther.
“-in this our darkest hour of need, as we face the great enemy! We beg thee intervene on our behalf-” I could feel the familiar mana concentrating on the speaker and now recognised the abbot’s voice, “-and though I am unworthy, I am your most faithful and willing vessel-”
The Vampyr ceased his advance as if unsure of how he should proceed.
“Goddess of war! Grant me your divine blessing so I might smite down the heathens with righteous wrath! In your holy name! AMEN!” The abbot’s voice rose to a crescendo and a golden amber light erupted from his body.
The light grew so intense that I had no choice but to look away.
As I opened my eyes, I was disturbed to find that while the light had diminished, it was still painful to attempt to look at the abbot directly. Shining with the same golden amber light, the abbot now seemed to have four scythe-like wings of mana protruding from his back, causing him to hover above the trench. In his hands was a large two-handed blade, or a club with a crossguard. I couldn’t be sure without risking going blind.
The Vampyr began backing away for a moment before suddenly appearing in front of the abbot.
*Clang*
The pair met blade to blade before the Vampyr hurriedly disengaged, dropping down into the trench.
Immediately pouncing back up at the abbot, the Vampyr suddenly curled and twisted his body like a falling cat, narrowly missing the abbot's blade as he appeared behind him and attempted to drive his sword through the Vampyr’s exposed back.
Swiping at the abbot to gain some space, the Vampyr briefly disappeared before appearing in the abbot's blindspot. Scything his sabre at the abbot's neck, the Vampyr was thwarted at the last moment as the abbot’s topmost wings intercepted the blade. Attempting to disengage, the Vampyr reacted too slowly and was pierced in each side of his abdomen by the abbot’s lower pair of wings.
Seemingly pinned in place, the Vampyr was unable to escape or avoid the penetrating strikes of the topmost wings into his chest. Dropping his sabre, the Vampyr tried to take hold of the abbot’s wings and free himself, but it didn’t seem to do any good.
With each passing moment, the abbot’s wings grew larger and the Vampyr’s resistance grew weaker.
Rotating in place, the abbot turned to face his adversary, the golden amber wings remaining firmly anchored in the Vampyr’s body. It was obvious that the abbot had to be saying something to the Vampyr, but he wasn’t loud enough to hear the distance between us. However, when the abbot raised his sword and pressed it against the Vampyr’s neck, it became obvious that the fight would soon be coming to an end.
“-the Labyrinths have mercy on you, for the gods will not! AMEN!” With one smooth motion, the abbot removed the Vampyr’s head.
Unlike the soldiers, the Vampyr’s armour clattered to the ground in individual pieces as a fine ash blew away in a breeze I was not aware existed and couldn’t feel.
Just as suddenly the abbot descended to the ground, his golden-amber wings flickering for a few moments before disappearing entirely. Falling to his knees the abbot looked up towards the sky and then toppled and slumped over in the trench.
Confused and panicked cries from the ranks of the Thralls suddenly broke the silence and seemed to snap everyone out of their collective trance. Already so close to their goal, some Thralls began piling into the outermost trench while others dithered at the remaining spikes still obstructing the way through. A full quarter of the surviving Thralls dropped their weapons and fled back towards the distant fortress.
No longer presenting a unified defence, the Thralls lingering outside of the trench were quickly cut down by concentrated fire from the nearby archers. While reinforcements swarmed towards the Thralls and the breach in the trench, rangers used their elevated positions on the hill to snipe at the exposed flanks of Thralls in the outermost trench.
In under twenty minutes, the last of the Thralls had been driven from the trench, killed, or taken prisoner.
I was actually impressed that the soldiers on the frontline had the wherewithal and inclination for taking prisoners at all. Noting fifteen more dead soldiers' bodies joining the formation on the side of the hill, I wondered if it was the soldiers' discipline or trust in their commanders that proved the decisive factor in determining that they would obey orders and take prisoners.
Sensing the Thrall prisoners' fleeting attempts at resisting the Enslavement effect of their new collars, I felt a momentary flicker of shame in betraying a principle I had once considered to be amongst the most unshakable of my core values. What felt worse was how a list of arguments immediately came to mind to justify its continued practice.
Staring at the distant fortress, I began to wonder what other compromises I would need to make in order to see through my vengeance against the Liche, and whether I would recognise myself afterwards.
*****
Staggering along the cobbled street with bare and bloodied feet, Nadine ducked into an alley to try and catch her breath, her small frame shuddering beneath her patched and fraying shift. Struggling to breathe because of the smoke polluting the air, Nadine squatted as low to the ground as she could manage and still remain ready to run.
*BOOM!*
A nearby explosion signalled that Ril had intercepted yet another one of their pursuers.
*Clack, Clack, Clack*
Nadine immediately recognised the sound of Ril’s talons and relaxed in spite of the ever-present danger.
Sure enough, a tall pale-skinned woman of terrifying beauty entered the alley and stood before Nadine, staring down at her with pitiless inky black eyes. A crown of jagged glass horns ringed Ril’s head and caused her raven-black hair to fall in haphazard tresses. “That is the last one for now,” Ril explained quietly, her voice somehow managing to sound both soft and incredibly cold at the same time. Long-limbed and with short hooked claws on the ends of her fingers and toes, Ril looked almost completely unlike her physical self.
Then again, Nadine was quite certain her real body wasn’t that of a ten-year-old girl either.
“Psychological perception and imprintation,” Ril explained absently, reminding Nadine that she was literally able to read her mind. “While locked within the dreamscape, you take the truest form of yourself.”
Nadine frowned but said nothing, wondering instead when she would be free of the seemingly endless nightmare.
“Soon,” Ril answered in a surprisingly upbeat tone. The Spirits protected by the curse are growing few in number, and for whatever reason, the curse is no longer being supported and maintained.
“You’re joking?” Nadine demanded, nearly collapsing entirely at the prospect of the unexpectedly good news.
Ril smirked, revealing her sharp teeth, “I do not joke.”
Nadine felt a shiver run down her spine and remembered that she was very much surviving thanks to the Daemon’s continued benevolence. A benevolence that seemed incredibly contrary to its core nature.
Ril’s smirk widened into a crescent smile displaying far too many teeth. “You have no idea of what I am capable of,” she sneered derisively, her voice impossibly cold and devoid of emotion in spite of her displayed mirth. Then, quite suddenly, her expression changed, becoming melancholic and listless.
For all of the Daemon’s bluster, Nadine would wager anything that she was missing Toofy. For whatever reason, the pair seemed to share a genuinely profound bond.
“She’s my mother,” Ril stated quietly, “I would think that you would appreciate more than most how much value that affords her.”
Orphaned at a young age, Nadine would have given anything for a mother and had wished as much many times before and after coming of age.
Ril nodded, “Good. perhaps you will be more fortunate next time...” She observed cryptically.
Nadine frowned, “Next time?” She asked.
“Although...I am sure Wraithe or Senna would adopt you, assuming you ignore the age discrepancy,” Ril suggested, “It is no secret that Wraithe admires your intelligence and discipline, and Senna...Well, she is the most prone to irrational emotional attachment.”
Nadine didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, she managed to avoid laughing on reflex at the absurdity of the suggestion.
“It’s not all about you,” Ril commented dryly, her inky black eyes sending fresh shivers down Nadine’s spine as the weight of aeons settled upon her. “The bonds between a parent and their child can change far more than you realise.”
A scene of rampaging Daemon armies flashed through Nadine's mind, a familiar cruel pale-skinned Daemon at their head leading the slaughter. As much as she wanted to believe the contrary, Nadine intuitively understood that what she had just seen was real. All the same, the behaviour of the Daemons in her vision was directly at odds with the behaviour of the Daemons that she had witnessed with her own eyes. The Daemons of Sanctuary were eccentric, but only ever violent when required to be. Dar was practically a giant scaly teddy bear.
“And why is that?” Ril asked smugly before stepping out of the alley and lowering herself into a predatory crouch. A particularly embarrassing position for Nadine to witness given the Daemon’s insistence on wearing nothing at all. Then again, Nadine was also forced to admit that a spare change of clothes was exactly particularly forthcoming either.
Nadine prepared herself to run. Lacking Ril’s natural weaponry, she was in a particularly disadvantageous position to confront the evil spirits that were hunting her.
Before Nadine had any time to think, Ril pivoted on the spot and snatched her up in her under one arm. Sprinting down the alleyway in the same smooth motion, the Daemon moved impossibly fast, the dirty brick and mortar buildings on either side of them becoming nothing more than a distorted blur. Then, just as suddenly, Ril stopped.
Unsure of what was happening, and more than a little disoriented, her eyes settled on a tall gangly limbed creature standing at the entrance to the alleyway they had been headed towards only moments before.
The creature was twitching as if in the grips of a seizure, yet its movements were so fast they seemed to leave after images in their wake. Then all at once, it appeared twelve feet closer without having taken any visible steps to do so.
It was close enough now that Nadine could determine that just like Ril, the creature was female and that its impractically large and long-fingered hands ended in equally impractically long claws. Beady pale white eyes stared back at them with an unnerving intensity and hunger as a mouth filled with needle-like teeth trembled open and close giving the creature’s breathing a maddening imitation of speech.
Ril crouched and leapt clear of the alley altogether, sending them flying into the billowing clouds of smoke above and then even more surprisingly, into the clear night sky above it. Rather than falling, pale transparent wings shimmered into existence beneath the moonlight.
Shivering, Nadine was profoundly glad that the Daemon was on her side and had elected to take her with her when fleeing the creature.
That goodwill evaporated as the creature suddenly appeared just a few feet in front of them, its milky white eyes staring ravenously at RIl, not Nadine. “S-ss-ss-o-o, HUNGRY!” it exclaimed with a rattling stammering hiss and gulping rasp. Lifting one of its emaciated palms up towards Ril like a starving beggar, its sunken eyes flickered between the Daemon and Nadine, “J-jj-jj-UST! W-ww-ww-ONE!” It offered desperately, its feet and legs hanging limply in the open air.
Ril’s grip on Nadine tightened.
Seeing no answer was forthcoming, the creature’s hands flickered and returned to its side as it snarled in obvious disappointment and anger.
Quite suddenly, Ril let Nadine go, and before she could even realise what was happening, she was snatched up by something else that suddenly dived or fell through the curtain of smoke.
Holding tight to whatever had caught and taken hold of her, blinded by the smoke, Nadine struggled to find the handholds she had expected. Finding only thick short fur that was too sparse to grab a hold of with her numb fingers, and altogether spindly arms holding onto her in turn, she was terrified of falling through the smoke at any given moment. Struggling to breathe, Nadine panicked as she realised she had no means of communicating her distress.
An image took shape in her mind of descending beneath the smoke and towards the street below.
Confused, Nadine could only watch as the mental image became reality and whatever was carrying her descended beneath the smoke and landed on the streets. However, rather than coming to a stop, they kept moving in a jilting loping gait.
Seemingly propelling them forwards with its long yet spindly pair of extra arms, it took all of Nadine’s waning courage to turn her eyes upon her would-be rescuer or captor. With profound relief, she realised that she recognised him as another one of Sanctuary’s Daemons, but not one she was particularly familiar with.
The Daemon’s body, and by extension Nadine, were both held aloft by the Daemon’s furled wings turned arms. It was perhaps just as well since the Daemon’s body was emaciated to the point of seeming fragility. Although Nadine could feel that appearances were somewhat deceptive. While not as powerful as the other Daemons, her bat-winged rescuer’s ropy muscles and tendons were a veritable powerhouse for their size.
“Others coming,” the Daemon chittered nervously, turning its head and huge ears this way and that for signs of danger, “Buy time while curse-” Suddenly they were propelled into the air and the Daemon’s large spindly arms once more unfurled into giant leathery wings.
Another image projected into Nadine’s mind. The creature that was hunting her leapt out at them from an alley and snatched Nadine away, drawing her towards its gaping maw.
With mounting horror, Nadine suddenly realised that she had seen the monster before. It was The Tailor from the first floor. Or more accurately, the thing that had lived inside of it.
Terrified, Nadine could feel The Tailor gaining on them, its hunger manifesting as dark slavering jaws in the smoke and shadows.
Swooping down out of the sky, the bat-winged Daemon was breathing hard, but its efforts seemed to have paid off.
Gathered in the street in front of them were all but one of Sanctuary’s Daemons, and every one of them looked primed and ready for a fight. Yet curiously, only Ril appeared different to her physical self.
“N-nn-nn-EED! T-tt-tt-o-FEED!” The Tailor howled from an uncomfortably close distance behind her.
Not needing to be asked, the bat-winged Daemon rushed towards its siblings and deposited Nadine in the eagerly waiting arms of Wraithe, who seemed just as terrified as she was. Joined by the apothecary’s assistant Nadine realised that it was these three Daemons that would be her dedicated protectors while the rest of the Daemons fought off The Tailor.
Wraithe’s hold on Nadine tightened, but not uncomfortably so, simply becoming more secure and manoeuvring her arms to better shield Nadine from potential harm. “I won’t let any harm come to you,” Wraithe promised, her whiskers twitching nervously as she backed away from the sounds of vicious and bloody melee.