This is a XX=flax paper page=XX from the book "the journal of Thebil Poemstood, knight commander in service to Princess Rithul Amugsunggor"
1st Limestone
The undead! Buffalo corpses animated by foul magics! We are far from ready. I order our squad to station at an intercept point, hoping we can all muster in time.
2nd Limestone. We all arrive on station, as ready as we'll ever be. And the Princess is here too. Not what I wanted at all, but I suppose being a Princess of storms gives her a tempestuous nature. I order a cautious advance - the enemy has the high ground on the hill, but with luck we can break up their formation and intercept the necromancer.
3rd Limestone. We charge and engage the necromancer, who almost immediately panics. Perhaps for the best that she is even greener at melee combat than we are. Esrel slashes the enemy's leg and takes them down. I follow up with a powerful buckler smash to their head, a dizzying blow but not fatal. The necromancer panics as wounds are cut into her form. I drive my cutlass firmly into her skull, ending her.
But there is no time to celebrate - the enemy's animated buffalo minions remain, and they'll autonomously seek flesh. I order a regroup and we move to intercept the undead.
4th Limestone. They sense us, and their ragged line turns to move towards us. I see only four animated corpses - but even one is a threat to ill equipped novice soldiers. I point to the nearest and declare a charge in the hope we can take them on one at a time. A plan that fails as soon as I hatch it.
The melee is joined. Fortunately for what ever reason the Princess nipped back to the fort - I think to pick up a set of chainmail barding. Unfortunately both of my recruits are suffering, and we have no hospital - a situation that we might change immediately. I manage to dispatch one corpse - three to go.
Of my two companions, one can no longer stand, the other is shaky on their hooves, but both fight on, slashing away at their unfeeling foes, hoping to reduce the corpses to inanimate chunks. I finish a second zombie, and move to the next.
Esrel, despite bruising and battering, fights on, but I can see fatigue there. None the less, she musters her strength and decapitates the zombie. One left, just over the hill where it currently does not have our scent. I order the charge, although I expect my fellows will rather need medical attention instead.
5th Limestone. As I expected, my squad mates are in no condition to mount a pursuit. I charge the last zombie alone, blocking its attacks and hacking into its sick flesh. But this final zombie puts up a great fight, and to my horror, smashes my plate barding to pieces! Unprotected, I suffer injuries. In desperation, I fight on. Suddenly a blast of magic energies whiz past. Princess Rithul to the rescue. I fight on through the pain. My princess takes a few swings with her cutlass, while I get tenderized by repeated hoof blows against my bare flesh, my armour and robes now destroyed. Finally, the Princess of the Storm gets serious, and sends a volley of magical energy into the zombie from point blank range, obliterating it. Woah.
12th Limestone. Merchants from the nearby civilization of the Pristine Lutes. We trade a few things, but we are remarkably self sufficient. As expected, there is no news at all from the Lace of Enchantment.
16th Limestone. Our Princess forbids the export of crowns. I lie next to a hospital bed being mummified in bandages and transfixed in splints, while held together with yarn. I don,t think we have any crowns. Or painkillers.
24th Limestone. Three bedraggled refugees, the last of the ponies who had set out with us initially, stumble into camp. They make their way to the tavern to rest. Our civilization now numbers nineteen.
As this month closes, all of us agree that military preparedness must take number one priority. Additional efforts to mine and smelt iron ore are undertaken, and basic weaponry alongside bulk supplies of ammunition are placed on order. Protective armour will follow as quickly as possible. The next floor of our tower will be dedicated to a proper hospital.
Much work to be done. I lie in bed, trussed up like an effigy of rags and wood.