Right meow.
Urist was walking point the day after the spawn attack when he saw the primitive dirt road that marked the very edge of the outpost Spearbreakers. He stopped, and waited til the caravan had come within easy earshot, and spoke, "I think we're about there. The above land seems quite worked over, if you look past the blood."
The lead merchant nodded, "Aye, I think you're right. Everyone keep your eyes open, we're still in the woods, but now we might get help if an ambush occurs. Let's keep the pace up."
The small troupe kept going as they had, coming up on a hill from the south. The base of the hill had been carved out, and walled off, while nearby a small tower stood. On the top of the tower, a tiny figure waved, then lit a torch. On a part of the hillside, farther east than the walled section, another pair of torches lit up. The lead merchant sighed. "Last time I came here, we entered that walled off section. I'm guessing something's changed since then. Head toward the torches, I believe they want us to go there."
The wagons turned, trundling at their steady pace to the now-visible tunnel in the hillside. About halfway there, the figure on top the tower began gesticulating furiously, and lit another torch. The figure began waving the two torches frantically. The lead merchant sighed again, "I believe that means nothing good. Boys, gear up. I think we got foes about."
No soon had he said this, then the foes became visible. A shambling horde of undead of various races was making their way toward the caravan. A figure followed them at a fair distance, wearing long flowing robes. One of the other guards grunted, then hollered, "Nercomancer."
The figure on the tower had been joined by another, and this one also lit two torches and began waving them. Urist snapped, "Bloody feckin' hell, it was all waiting for us, eh?"
On the other side of the caravan, mountain bandits were swiftly loping toward them, only about ten, but now the dwarves were flanked on two sides and outnumbered even further. The merchants whipped their beasts of burden harshly, forcing more speed from them, as the guards split in two groups on either side.
The mountain bandits arrived first, sprinting the final stretch of distance into the small squad of dwarves facing them. Urist was with the group, at the extreme edge. The mass of bandits dove into the dwarves in a packed unit, fighting ferociously but individually, more like duelists than soldiers. The dwarves fought as a group, each one supporting his fellows, exploiting openings on distracted foes, while the bandits were like islands in a storm. Each stood alone, and fell alone, felled by the group of dwarves. Two of their number dashed past the cordon, at the merchants, gunning for the weaker targets. Urist and a macedwarf followed them swiftly. Just a few feet from the wagons, the dwarves caught the bandits, diving into their knees nearly in unison. Urist fell atop the bandit's legs, who aimed several ferocious kicks at Urist. The kicks bounced off Urist's helmet and pauldrons, so Urist grabbed on of the corrupted man's knees and locked it, pulling him closer as he did.
The other dwarf had forgone any hand-to-hand combat, and instead was smashing his mace into the lower half of the bandit, crushing bones in his legs, hips, and lower back. Urist pushed his bandit's calf down, and pulled his thigh up, bending his knee the wrong way, accompanied by a hideous crackle. The man screamed in his guttural language, and kicked again, but with less force. Urist jabbed back with his spear, the spearpoint catching the man in the groin. Another scream, and Urist stood, pulling out his spear as he did. He hopped onto the man's back, and impaled him through the back of his chest. He heard the man wheeze and gurgle as his lung filled with blood, and looked over at the other dwarf.
The macedwarf had, unnoticed to Urist, gotten struck by the crippled bandit. He was gushing blood from his right arm, and his mace lay on the ground. He backpedaled, then tripped over a large stone, falling on his back. The bandit crawled toward him, sword in hand. The dwarf kicked the man in the face, but the man struck back, deeply gashing the dwarf's leg.
Urist dashed over, and stabbed the man in the body, his blow a mirror of the strike he had performed on the other, now dying bandit. This man rolled over as he withdrew his spear, the sword in the bandit's hand flailing violently. It hacked into Urist's side, bouncing off a rib, leaving a superficial wound. Urist snarled, and stabbed again, hitting the prone man in the throat, ripping it open. Blood sprayed, and the man dropped the sword to grab his ruined throat.
Urist turned to the macedwarf, heedless of the blood oozing down his side. The macedwarf lay panting, bleeding profusely from his wounds. His face was pale, and he seemed near unconscious. Urist tried to pull him to his feet, but the other dwarf waved him off, "Leave me... I'm not getting up again. Get the necromancer before he can raise me." Urist nodded, turned to look at the dwarves in his 'squad'. They had turned back to the caravan, leaving the slain bandits behind them.
Urist didn't see it, but the necromancer grinned, and waved his hands in an intricate gesture. All the dead bandits rose to their feet behind the dwarves, and advanced once more on the caravan. Urist saw the raised corpses, and yelled at the dwarves, "Turn about! Undead, they're undead!"
The dwarves turned, seeing the threat so near, and charged into the shambling ranks of mutilated corpses. Urist looked to the other squad, but they were locked in mortal battle with the other group of zombies. He growled, looking for the robed human. And saw him, between the zombies and the tower with its pair of tiny figures atop it.
Urist ran past the melee of undead and dwarves, toward the necromancer. The human saw him, his grin disappearing at the sight of the bleeding, gore encrusted dwarf in full battle armor charging across the flat expanse of land directly at him. The necromancer turned and ran toward the hill.
It proved to be an unwise decision moments later when a swarm of dwarves spewed from the tunnel like an army of ants. They were clad in armor, some even clad in the bright blue of adamantine, that most valuable of metals, and held spears and pikes. They split into several groups, two heading for the melee around the caravan, and a smaller group sprinting for the necromancer.
The human stopped at the sight them, and turned back toward Urist, figuring one dwarf was better than five. He hoped to evade the dwarf, and flee back to his tower, but Urist had other ideas. Urist stopped, a good distance away, and when the necromancer tried to change direction to pass him by a fair distance, Urist ran the way the man had turned, cutting him off. The mageling cursed when he saw this, and sprinted right at Urist.
As he neared the dwarf, Urist charged back. Just as they were about to connect, Urist stopped, sidestepped, and held his spear out sideways at a forty-five degree down angle. The human wasn't swift enough, and tripped over the spear, smashing his face against the bloody dirt. He rolled sideways, dodging the stab Urist half-heartedly aimed at him. As the human stood, he saw the reason for Urist's negligence.
The other five dwarves stood in a semi-circle around him. The human stammered, and tried to speak, to worm his way out of this, but the leader of the squad rammed the pike she carried through his chest, lifting him up with furious strenght, then bearing him down into the ground, violently impaled. He gasped, and struggled vainly, but then all the dwarves started stabbing.
It was over quickly. Urist turned to the leader of the squad and said, "I thank you, I fear I wouldn't have caught him without your help...?"
"Fischer. Colonel Fischer, of the Pikes of Spearbreakers. I am pleased to meet you, sirrah." She spoke bluntly, and he accepted the minor insult with equanimity.
"And my caravan thanks you as well, they would have been... Sorely pressed, to put it lightly." He nodded deferentially at her as she brushed past him.
"Yes, well let's get them inside before the spawn smell the gore and come running. The spawn around here are stronger than most, and I think they're getting worse. Hurry up, sirrah."
With that brusque exchange, Urist Okablokum arrived at Spearbreakers in fine Dwarven style, violently, unwelcome, and coated in blood.
More soon, I'm halfway through that damn mug. And I FINALLY got made into a Barony.
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Topic: [34.11] Spearbreakers - It shudders and begins to move (Read 2278756 times)