The sound of over a hundred dwarves fighting with swords, axes and cutlery against a partially rotten enemy is not a particularly pleasant one. For every clash of steel against steel there was a countering echo of squelching flesh, marked by the occasional noteworthy clonk of an overzealous dwarf wielding a frying pan.
The two lines of the living and the dead had predictably shattered on impact, and any illusion of orderly disciplined combat had quickly gone out the window when the dwarves had started using each-other as melee weaponry. Within the carnage, small pockets of dwarves had formed against the overwhelming numbers of the undead, tight clusters of dwarves with the exception of several eager individuals who danced through the throng, weapons whirling ferociously. Despite the confusion, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
“Are we winning?” Kubluk shouted against the noise.
“Who cares?!” remarked a nearby dwarf, knocking a zombie back with a well timed blow from a ladle.
“Well we can’t stay here all day,” Kubluk shouted back. “We’re on a tight schedule here!”
Meanwhile, amidst the chaos, Labs was fighting for his life against a human ghoul. Its head lolled against its shoulder, barely supported by the decaying remains of a neck. Drool sprayed from its gaping mouth as it advanced, its sole remaining eye fixed unmoving on the dwarf before it. Every few moments it would lunge towards the dwarf with a wailing groan, only to be beaten back by a ferocious waving axe. The weapon was dealing great damage to the undead beast, but the dwarf was struggling to achieve a killing blow.
As the beast lunged forward again, Labs stepped back only to feel his skin shiver as he bumped into someone. He span, raising his blade, and with relief recognised Falk, one of the younger military dwarves. The young crossbowman had abandoned his weapon in favour of a shovel, which he gripped firmly in both hands.
“I’ve got you covered!” shouted the young dwarf, planting himself firmly alongside Labs.
The woodcutter turned with relief and was just in time to beat back a furious swipe by his assailant. “I’m not dying today!” he shouted, before dealing a massive blow that almost tore the zombie in half. It crumpled to the floor and for a moment was still, before an arm of shattered bone began to reach towards the victorious dwarf.
“Do you things ever stop?” Labs muttered, before stepping forward and bringing down his axe in a final sweep, smashing the skull.
Behind him, a cry of desperation caused him to spin around. The young Falk had fallen to the ground and was struggling to regain his feet as the undead swarmed over him. Labs raised his axe and snarled.
“Not today, my emaciated brethren!” he yelled, and charged forward into the throng. The beasts scattered to several swings of his axe, forming sufficient space for the unfortunate Falk to regain his footing.
“I owe you,” the young dwarf breathed in appreciation as Labs pulled him back onto his feet.
“I’ll be having your drinks ration then,” Labs laughed, before raising his blade once again above his shoulder.
“Labs!” Falk cried, pointing towards his outstretched arms. The woodcutter looked down, to where his sleeve had rolled back to reveal his previous gangrenous bite.
“You’re bitten!” the young dwarf exclaimed, rage filling his throat. “I killed you!”
“It’s not your fault!” Labs exclaimed, as a wide-eyed Falk backed away from him.
“You saved me, I’m sorry!”
Labs leapt forward as something moved in the shadows behind Falk.
“Stay back!” Falk shouted, lifting his weapon to warn off the infected woodcutter.
“No! Behind you, dumb fool!” Labs exclaimed.
With agonising inevitability, a decaying arm wrapped itself around Falk’s torso from behind, yanking him backwards. The young dwarf squealed, at first in fear then in agony as a pair of jagged teeth ripped into his neck, spraying Labs with blood.
The woodcutter staggered back, wiping the blood from his eyes. He looked at Falk, and only gaping dead eyes stared back at him.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” he mumbled, before charging forward with his axe held high.
Author
Topic: The Captain's Log- Spiritwood (Read 61717 times)