Reidnas found himself hiding off to the side of what was going on, the bushes and trees offering protection from both projectiles and eyes of those involved. With the sounds of a skirmish very clear to him, the clashing of metal on metal and more often the case, of metal on bone, it sounded as though the whole valley was alive this morning. Screams of the dying mixed in as well, though there was far fewer cries than one might suspect from a battle, especially one quite as big as this.
Smart as he was, Reidnas had taken cover as quickly as he could when he saw the army of the Empire marching down his valley, fearing the worst to be an invasion. Having, most rightly so, expected to see his own land's army of knights come to meet the invaders, he was instead surprised, and in terribly great fear, of the army that arrived to meet them instead. No army of knights in all their color and glory, no sounds of boasting and cries of eagerness as they fought to earn their spurs could be heard, only the dead silence ruined by the clanking of armor. For instead of Bretonnian knights coming forth to meet the Empire as they invaded their outer providence, an army of the undead came forth instead.
Having lived in this valley his entire life, his small village the only home he ever knew, Reidnas should have run in fear at the sight of the invading Empire let alone the sight of the undead, yet instead he had followed and hid in the woods, telling himself he was simply acting as scout incase either army neared his village. The truth was, and it was the truth he would not admit even to himself, was that he did not fear the undead army, but was rather ever so intrigued by it, finding it exciting and empowering to think one could control even death as was evident here.
Skirmishes never lasted long, the few books read by him stated as much, and the skirmish between the outlaying Empire forces and undead lasted shortly as well. Unfortunately for the living, they lost and were forced back, likely preventing them from establishing as solid of a front line as they might have hoped. With the dead laying between the two forming lines, the skirmishing group of undead advanced further, striking into the main line of the Empire, causing confusion as one of the cannons was taken out before even having a chance to position itself. Worse yet, within moments, the dead began to rise up, turning on their former companions and striking even more confusion and chaos upon their ranks.
Numbers though still had the upper hand, and even with each fallen Empire soldier, it was only a short matter of time before all the undead were put back to their former state and the lines were able to once more continue with their forming. But the delay had been enough for the dark army it seemed; for now they were well formed, and their units shambling ever so slowly forward. With their center still in chaos as they tried to form up, the units of Empire on either side seemed to shift with unease, an unease that quickly flowed thru the entire assembled army.
A man upon a horse started to move from the side of the army, his body decked out in brilliant gold and the horse he rode upon having its body hidden under golden armor. As he neared the front, seemingly oblivious to the approaching undead, his helmet was removed and he started to cry out something that echoed out to his men. This man was obviously their general, or at least someone of high importance, as soon the Empire's troops started to cheer and cry out before their noise was silenced with the deafening sound of the Earth being torn a sundered. Across the field from the Empire, the ground began to explode, skeletons and zombies taking to the air in the midst of clumps of dirt and grass. It was obvious that at least some of the cannons managed to fire, if only they were enough.
Forward came the army of the undead, their forms shambling even as the host of Empire struggled to prepare, though fear was clearly written on many faces as the cannons had little of the desired effect. Sure some of the enemy fell, but not many and definitely none of the foe panicked. Archers let lose their arrows next, the sharp points falling down upon their enemies, but to less effect than even the cannons as the arrows sunk into shields, bones or worse yet, simply passed thru the army of the dead, in total only taking out a few. Volley after volley was still fired as the Empire prepared for the enemy, taking time to fire their cannons once more, letting their enemy come to them so their range could do as much damage as possible.
With the dead shambling closer and closer, the rotting corpses and aching skeletons, Reidnas saw a sight that nearly froze his blood, for what looked to be spirits started to pull from around the other dead and glide across the field of battle. Handgunners released their own volley towards those apparitions of death, yet not even a single one fell, the bullets simply flew thru without fazing them. Luckily for the living a few skeleton's and zombies, those unlucky enough to find themselves in line with the unhindered bullets, had their bodies torn apart, heads exploding, legs blown out from under them, or simply being knocked down by the impact.
The noise of the cannons and Handgunners echoed in the valley causing the sounds of the zombies and the skeletons being blown asunder to be hidden from anyone's ears, soft as it was. With the wraiths now at their enemies lines, the sounds and screams of the dying soon over powered even the loud explosion of cannons in the background, as sword, spear and halberdier proved ineffective against their ethereal foe. As each soldier fell, their corpse contorted and eyes opened in the horror of a gruesome death, the wraith seemed only to become faster, gliding forward to take on more, in their wake the dead arising again thanks to black magic.
Sounds of the cannons, and even of the Handgunners became far less frequent as the wraiths started to take their toll, targeting the more deadly artillery instead of the less worrisome infantry. Within minutes, the lines crashed together, the undead slamming against the spears of the living, the sounds of weapons slamming into the flesh of the living, dead and dying.
From the Empire's flanks moved cavalry, the heavily armored knights cantering in and cutting down all that arose in their way. Their heavy armor and strong horses prevented them from being hurt from all but the most serious, or lucky, of attacks, until their own flanks were crashed into by what Reidnas could only understand to be the undead version of knights. Instead of the utter destruction that had just moments before been occurring against the undead thanks to the knights, now became a fair battle, if not one actually tipped in favor of those who could not, and would not tire.
The battle was going against the Empire, this much was clear to anyone who might watch, for unlike the undead army, the Empire had to kill not only their original foe, but any of their own who perished as well. Time was in the favor of the undead, the army slowly grinding deeper and deeper into the Empire ranks. More and more fell dead, and each time one did they rose up again, taking arms once more, only against their former brothers now.
With out warning, the sky began to darken, and three large bolts of energy smashed down into the ranks of the Empire sending screaming and burning men high into the air. Reidnas looked upwards before around, trying to find the source of such power, of such magic, but nothing was clear, the only thing he saw in the ranks of the undead was a man, or what looked to be one, standing tall, crimson robes flowing around his body, head covered in a hood with his hand outstretched towards his enemy.
Squads of soldiers were starting to break ranks and flee, their weapons dropped as they did all they could to escape the living dead. Only one man was pushing forward with any sense of ease, the one who had at the start of the battle ridden in front, encouraging his men. His target was clear, the dead falling around him as he made his way towards the man in robes, striking to his left and right as he cleared the path and trampled those who did not move.
Reidnas was about to pull back as he watched the Empire's force melt away, their slaughtered only making their enemy that much stronger. He knew he had to warn his village, even if they were always making fun of him, calling him the outcast of the village. They were his people, and he would warn them, but in a minute. Eyes were again distracted, but now the general reached the robed figure, and a battle ensued.
Three strokes the general made against the robed man, each deflected in mid air by forces unseen. As the forth came down, the robed man jumped back and waved both hands, obviously casting a spell. Around the general, blocking him from the robed mage, flowed four wraiths, their ethereal bodies spelling doom to the man, though he seemed unfazed. Instead of running as Reidnas would have, he instead struck at one of his new foes even as it reached out to grab him.
To his shock, Reidnas watched as the blade cut thru the wraith as all others had before it, only instead of the wraith continuing on in its attempt at a grasp, it instead shivered and cried out a deathly wail as it exploded into a cloud of smoke. The other three soon to follow in the foot print of the first, but not without soft touches making their way to the general, weakening him even more.
His minions defeated, the robed mage drew a wickedly curved dagger from somewhere in his vestments, and while his opponent was distracted recovering from a touch of emptiness that was the wraith. A lucky strike landed, his wicked blade sinking thru the armor of his foe, but unlike what he probably wished, it only managed to pass into his chest close to his shield arm, a non fatal wound. It did however leave him open to a counter attack, and it was an attack his foe was not to miss.
Sunlight glanced off of the sword of the general as it flowed downwards and in a devastating arc, the blade tip slamming into the his foe's ribs, cutting from under one arm thru and out under his other. The mage was dead before the tip even exited his body, but what came next was not something anyone expected. From the mage a dark ring exploded, growing as it expanded, flashing outwards and passing thru undead and living alike. All the dead it passed thru crumbled, the magic being drained from their bodies, leaving nothing but dust falling away. The living suffered a worse fate, for as it passed thru them, their bodies shook violently, and as it left, he could swear to see their very souls being pulled from their bodies after it. When maximum size was reached, or what must be such, the ring jerked back, closing in and slamming back into the robed mage.
The whole world was lit as the ring vanished into the mage, blinding Reidnas without issue, though only for a moment. As it cleared, the valley was once more empty, the dead of both sides missing, along with weapons, armor and horses. Only one thing remained, one man in the center of all the destruction, only one person to prove any warriors actually remained, and that was the general. His head turned slowly, helmeted eyes taking in the field of battled before slowly sliding from his mount, slamming onto the ground with form splayed, obviously dead. Yet in his sword arm, instead of a sword, he held a book, a dark and alluring book, and one Reidnas knew he just had to have.