Screams filled the barren, war-torn fields, full of the dead and dying in the final days of the last war. Within the weathered tent, the brutal cacophony of death throes threatened Ezekiel's concentration as the generals around him tried to make sense of the carnage from the last few days. Magical explosions and bestial growls could all be heard in the distance, but it was the screaming that broke his concentration more than anything else.
Shaking his head, he tried to tune it out and return his attention to the map on the large wooden table in front of the other officers. While not a general himself, he was allowed in the commander's tent to lend his opinion. He had earned that respect as the last surviving member of the Eldritch Scions, the arcane protectors of Terrial.
"Where have the elves gone, and what are these reports I'm getting that they've gone...feral?" A tall older blond general with thick bushy mustache asked loudly of a travel weary field commander. The general shifted uncomfortably in his battered plate mail, obviously having worn it far longer than he was comfortable with.
"I'm afraid I don't know, sir. There were disagreements between them and the reinforcements from High Rock. The dwarves were concerned that field assignments favored the elves in the spoils of war, while the high elves from Alurra argued that the dwarves had been tasked battlefield positioning that could grant them more..."
"More what?" The older general barked at the younger man who was obviously concerned at his superior's possible reaction.
"Notoriety, sir."
"By the gods, has everyone gone mad?!"
A bronze-skinned bald woman in flowing red robes pointed a wand at the map which showed far more enemy units than allied on the broad field.
"We have other concerns to address. Word from the frontlines is that the battlemages are being overwhelmed due to the legions of undead no longer being affected by our fire invocation magic. We have no idea what dark sorcery is at work, but if this holds true, then the magics of the Academia will be greatly hindered. We'll be left to the simpleton rock creatures Ezekiel frequently conjures..."
Straightening his dark blue tailcoat uniform and checking the clasp of his collar, Ezekiel stepped forward to address the generals.
"We knew there would be complications from the combined efforts of the necromancers and the demonologists under the direction of Tal'Dar, but surely the battlemages know something other than just throwing blasts of fire at enemies," Ezekiel quipped.
The red-robed mage across the table shot him a dirty look but didn't retort as it appeared the general was poised to speak again.
"Ezekiel, what have the Scions learned?"
"Nothing good, my lord. If the morning reports are to be believed, Tal'Dar has achieved the impossible."
The generals all looked at Ezekiel with a mixture of fear and tension as he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts.
"As we all know, undead are created as empty vessels, devoid of the souls that once inhabited them. That is both a benefit and a detriment of the lesser undead. They fight with no sense of self preservation, but complex commands is beyond their capabilities, and they have predictable vulnerabilities."
"Right, but what we've been fighting on the field isn't at all predictable," the mage interjected.
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"No. Instead, it appears that Tal'Dar has found a way to inject demonic essence into their newly raised undead. In effect, every one our soldiers have encountered acts with more intelligence and cunning because they are possessed by a demon from the Abyss. This also has granted them unusual protections from weapons we'd commonly use and might also explain what Archmage Yera was reporting."
"They've gained a demonic resistance to fire..." Yera muttered, her eyes going wide.
"It would appear so, madam."
"What does this have to do with what's happening to the elves and dwarves? They're being possessed as well?" the general pressed.
"I don't know, sir. I haven't had a chance to see…" Ezekiel tried to answer before being interrupted by an explosion that blew a side of the tent off, taking with it half of the younger soldier who had reported in earlier.
"By the gods, they've breached the front lines! They're here!"
Chaos erupted in the command tent as a swarm of undead descended upon them. With dark red glowing eyes that darted back and forth with a sense of purpose and savagely snapping jaws dripping crimson blood, the undead immediately began devouring any and all they could reach as screams enveloped the encampment.
Yera quickly drew arcane glyphs in the air out of instinct and fire erupted from her hands, engulfing both undead and soldiers in a large area, but only the screams of the soldiers were heard as the undead stood unmoving and unaffected.
"Shit!" She yelled as she remembered suddenly what had just been discussed, but it was too late. Swarmed by rotting limbs, her flesh was ripped from her body by jagged, hungry teeth.
Waving his own hands in a swift and practiced fashion, Ezekiel called out frantically as he finished his spell, "Bob, need some help here!"
The ground shook as a creature made of rocks and gems emerged, some fifteen feet in height, and lumbered in front of the moon elf. One of the undead ran up to the earth elemental and attempted to claw at its leg, managing only to break off the claws of the demonic creature just before it was smashed by a large fist, quaking the ground as flesh and blood smeared underneath. More undead swarmed the elemental, but Bob just smashed them over and over again, their teeth and claws doing nothing to his rock form.
Ezekiel backed off slowly, looking for anyone who yet lived and needed medical assistance. His mind was flooded with concern for his brother, Zeldren, whom he knew was on the frontlines along with Sierra.
Instinct took over as Zeke detected a slight bit of movement at the edge of his peripheral vision, forcing him to conjure a sturdy wooden kite shield in his offhand just as a large creature lunged at him, barely deflecting bloodied claws that could have ripped his throat out had he not reacted.
The creature stepped back, crouching low as Ezekiel kept his shield raised before him. It grinned wickedly, its teeth dripping blood and entrails. Zeke shuddered in horror at the wrongness of its soulless eyes.
Suddenly, the creature spoke. "I was tasked with finding you, summoner..." Unlike the other demonic zombies, this one had wispy tendrils of soft shadows pouring off its body under the bright midday sun, as if it was melting under the unrelenting light.
"You haven't defeated us yet. Reinforcements will arrive at any moment!" Zeke snapped back.
The creature laughed as Bob continued to pummel its allies near them.
"Those reinforcements you speak of are already dead, as are the gods they worship. We've turned the elves and the dwarves, and now your command encampment. After this, the Crusade is finished. Our lord has won, and all that is left...is you."
Screams once again broke Ezekiel's concentration as he looked out over the camp. Soldiers lay dead everywhere, feasted on by the red-eyed unholy zombies that filled the base, leaving Bob and Ezekiel as the last remaining source of resistance.
Seizing the momentary distraction, the creature lunged at Ezekiel, only to find its attack cut short by a large blob of sticky paste conjured by the summoner, gluing its leg to the ground and ceasing its momentum.
The creature, screaming in fierce anger as it swung frantically in Ezekiel's direction, taunted the moon elf further.
"All will be killed! All will be consumed! Even if you survive, summoner, all that will be left is you!" Its final words were accentuated by the graveled fist of Bob punching it into the ground, leaving only shattered bone and sinew of the would-be assassin.
"Thanks Bob, that was timely," Ezekiel huffed, catching his breath.
"No problem, Zeke. But...what do we do about the rest?" Bob asked innocently as the rest of the red-eyed undead rose from their feasts, all slowly moving in their direction.
"Oh shit..."