Some days you win, some days you lose... and some days it rains. - Crash Davis
"You'll never understand my plans…"
"No, I suppose I shall not." Hrist said as she pointed her blade, which was glowing malevolently, at him.
"Holy crap lads, the lass's sword is glowing…" The pedo-stashed Viking said as he, and everyone else, stared in awe.
"So is she like… going to cut him and half or something?" Roderick asked, and then his face lit up as other ideas popped in his head "or maybe melt him! Cause melting would be totally awesome!" he said.
The mercenary almost chuckled at their excitement "Nope. Way cooler, she's gonna launch him into the air, and impale him with a bunch of big ass spears, then she flies and throws one the size of a tree." They all gave a collective 'ooooh' as they anticipated the show. Arngrim's seen this dozens of times, and it never gets old.
"In the name of our all-father, Lord Rufus…" she spoke, and they could see the Marcus and the others scramble around, trying to escape, even though they were trapped in the barrier. Mylan tilted his head slightly as he suddenly had a thought.
"You say she flies into the air? If that's the case, I'm surprised she always wears a skirt then." the mage said absently.
Arngrim cleared his throat "Huh, I never noticed…"
Somebody give that man an Oscar. Cause the fact that he said that, with a straight face, was nothing short of academy award winning acting. There were times when he considered carrying around one of those little telescopes that ship captains' always seemed to favor. However, he was pretty sure that, if Hrist ever caught him, she'd use that very telescope to go down in medical history of inventing the Colonoscopy on Arngrim.
"DIVINE ASSAULT!" She screamed and struck the barrier with dazzling effects; sparks of bluish white light went everywhere. It was almost like someone was putting on a fireworks show right inside the vault. It was quite a sight.
Then it happened.
Something changed, something in the atmosphere. It was like an explosion, though with none of the physical effects. Whatever had happened, it seemed to shake the very foundations of reality itself, though completely unidentifiable. "Hey look!" Mylan said. Everyone's attention was back at the platform and they couldn't believe what they saw.
Hrist was frozen in place, mid Soul Crush. Marcus had fallen flat on his ass, and was staring at a shimmering blade that was inches from him. Unsure what to make of this, he turned to his followers, and they could only shrug. They've never had their souls purified before, they had no idea if this was part of the process. After a few more seconds, Hrist's blade stopped shimmering. Starting at the tip, the blade, then soon after it, she too began to disintegrate away until there was nothing left. Even the dust had vanished.
Nobody moved
Crazed Necromancers and Einherjar stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. The room was so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop, somebody coughed, and finally it was Roderick who broke the awkward standoff.
"Yeah… well… Just wait till the spears start…" he said lamely.
"KILL THEM!" Fireballs, and various other harmful spells came raining down around our heroes as the scrambled for cover. The four of them managed to dive behind the dead minitor, just as a particularly large fireball lit the spot they were just standing ablaze. The dead beast was large enough to provide adequate cover and shielded them from the searing heat. However the air was soon filled with the smell of burning hair, and oddly enough hamburgers. "Is it wrong, that ima wee bit hungry?" Cromm asked. It was pretty obvious that he was very uncomfortable, being the largest of the 4, he had a hard time trying to keep himself low enough not to expose any part of his body to the line of fire.
Mylan looked revolted "Yes, you idiot! How can you even think about food right now?" The Viking's eyebrows furrowed in anger "You listen here you little-"
"God damn it, Shut Up!" Arngrim growled.
Holy crap, how the hell did Hrist manage to deal with these people? He looked over and saw the stricken looks on their faces, and immediately regretted snapping at them. Now that he thought about it, they'd never actually seen him get mad before, as he usually did a pretty good job at keeping his cool. 'Great, now I feel bad' He thought, mostly because it wasn't them he was mad at.
It's a little hard to explain, but in order to create an Einherjar; a Valkyrie has to use a small fragment of their very own soul. This fragment is used to create an… anchor point, I guess is the best way to put it. A hard-spot for a warrior's soul to hold on to and prevent them from being swept away to the cycle of rebirth.
This method served a lot of other purposes too. One of which, was that it also acted as an IFF (Identify Friendly/Foe) system which allowed the battle maidens to spot one of their own, even after a memory wipe. This also allowed Einherjar to dwell within their souls without being rejected and attacked as a foreign body. More importantly though (for the purposes of our story), it established a connection between a Valkyrie and her Einherjar. Whenever a Goddess of Fate was awakened, all of the Einherjar that belonged to that particular Valkyrie were instantly alerted. And right now Arngrim couldn't feel the connection anymore. He knew that something had happened to her. Hel, he could feel that she was dead, or worse, as the intangible line that binded him to her was left fraying in the wind. He had no idea how Marcus managed to kill someone as powerful as Hrist, but there was one thing he was pretty damned sure about.
The little prick was gonna pay…
More spells came slamming in; all of them showering sparks, frost, and small bits of stone they hit. Being that magic was his field of expertise, Mylan noticed that something wasn't right about their tactics.
Unlike the first volleys', the mage noticed that these were rushed and sloppily made. They were ill aimed and none of them were even coordinating. Fire, Ice, and Lightning, while devastating on their own, should never be casted at the same time as they tended to cancel each other out. Even now, a fireball impacted one of the Frigid Damsel spells and exploded in a huge ball of steam. The steam, now distorting the air, caused the lightning spells to veer off randomly and strike various parts of the vault. 'Its like they aren't even trying to hit us.' He thought and risked a peek to see the top of the platform. Sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the tell tale glow coming from the ground the Necromancers stood on.
"Arngrim!" the mage yelled, trying to be heard over the crackle of power and random explosions "They're stalling for time! The Teleportation Spell is still active!" Arngrim leaned back against their meaty Minitor shield that acted as their cover, and let loose a frustrated growl.
'Gods damned surprises and plot twists!'
"What do we do lad? And…" the look on Cromm's face was obvious. He was replaying the whole scene in his head, trying to figure out what happened "…is the lass really dead?"
Damn it. As if the whole day wasn't already going to Hel, Arngrim realized that he, being the senior Einherjar, was now in charge since the others were looking to him for direction.
"We can't worry about that right now; we've got bigger problems deal with…" He saw the looks of genuine concern for what happened to their Valkyrie on their faces. He couldn't blame them, he sure as Hel knew he was "Nobody can really kill a Valkyrie; her soul just goes back to Valhalla. She'll be fine." He explained, though no one was really sure if he was trying to convince them or himself.
"But right now, we're about to fail the whole damned mission!" he said over the deafening noise of the battle. The whole interior of the vault was being turned to Swiss cheese. If this kept up, then they were going to risk a collapse.
"Hey!" Arngrim nodded to the archer "You think you can think thin their numbers any?"
Rod peered over the furry carcass, tying to gauge their distance, and immediately dropped back down as a huge bolt of lightning streaked right over their heads and struck the ground right next to them. They covered their heads, as it exploded with a resounding BOOM, and the four were pummeled with chunks of stone, dirt, and burning whatever. "Does that answer your question!" he yelled. However though, if Arngrim's ears rang as much as his did at the moment, then there was a good chance that he didn't hear him.
They were at a huge disadvantage. Marcus and the rest of his men now held the high ground. From their current position, neither Roderick nor Mylan could get a clean shot at any of the cultists, and storming them would require them to funnel themselves up the steps, thus making it a suicide run.
But at the same time, doing nothing will pretty much guarantee that they all get away with the Philosopher's Stone, and the Heart of Brahms. So that pretty much left about two options. They could A: be total cowards about the whole thing, and stay put.
Or they could B: be big friggen heroes and do the only honorable thing.
"So how do you guys feel about being cowards?" Arngrim asked hopefully, but was met with 3 curious looks. "No?" the mercenary sighed "Fine, we'll be all heroic and crap…" he said, and then did a long pull from his 'water' canteen.
"Mylan, you know how to do any of the big spells? Like Meteor Swarm?" The mage blinked at him for a second "Well, yea… but-"
Another close call, from another lightning bolt, struck the ground not five from where they were at. After it stopped raining debris, he continued.
"-Yea, but I can't cast anything like that here! We'll bring the whole place down around us!" he said, but then he noticed the surprisingly calm look the former mercenary had on his face. It was like he was at peace with himself. "Aww, that's what you want isn't it…" he said despondently. The archer and the Viking were stunned into silence. Arngrim continued "Rod, on my mark, I want you to make a break for those pillars near the stairwell and just start shooting, it doesn't matter if you hit anything. Cromm, me and you are gonna rush'em head on." After a few seconds, Mylan found his voice again "my gods, you're serious…"
Arngrim gave a solemn nod while Rod and Cromm gave each other a frantic look then turned their heads back to Arngrim. "R-Really? Just like that? We'll be slaughtered!" the archer said nervously.
"Yup" He took another long drink "we gatta buy time for Mylan to cast. Our first duty is to Midgard and we have to keep it safe… even if it's with our lives." he gave them all a sidelong glance. "I just wanna say that it's been an honor…"
Cromm gave a sad smile of his own "lads, I just wanna say that as a Viking, I've done a lot of terrible things, to a lot of nice people… and stuff like that changes ya." Arngrim nodded knowingly "I didna think that there was redemption fer someone like me. But now that I'm here… part of something bigger than I could ever imagine, I realize just how foolish it all was." He looked to each of their faces individually "Here I am, a part of the lass's clan, I really feel like I can truly do somethin good fer the world… and for the first time since, Hel I don't even remember when, I truly felt like mah old self again." He reached around and grabbed his war axe "I dunno about you lads, but I've gots no regrets." The massive man smirked to himself, and then smiled joyously. "So I imma go out there and show those little buggers how Hrist's clan really does it! And by god, I'm really gonna give it all my might!"
"That was beautiful…" Mylan breathed in awe. Roderick opened his mouth, (ready to deliver his own epic and heartfelt speech) and paused when he was suddenly aware of how quiet it was. The others noticed it too and they peaked over the now-slightly-cooked Minitor. Marcus, his men, and most of the upper platform were gone.
"Aww crap" Arngrim said, pretty much giving voice to all of their thoughts.
"Ya know lads, when I get back, I'm gonna invent some way to warn people, when their speeches are running to long… maybe with music er sumthin"
"pfft, like that'll ever catch on"
X Minutes Later X
The four stood outside the ruined temple, and stared at the smoldering remains of the merc camp. Thunder rumbled somewhere off in the night sky, announcing that a storm was on the way. "So how the Hel, are we going to get back?" Mylan asked. Very much aware of how easy they've had it, since Hrist just flew them around everywhere. He then promptly deflated as he realized that he already knew the answer to that particular question. "We're going to have to walk back aren't we?" Arngrim nodded.
"Yup"
Roderick looked as his quiver, and only counted 6 arrows left. "I'm guessing that since Lady Hrist isn't here, we're cut off from the INVENTORY, or more importantly, my spare ammo…"
"Yup"
Cromm's stomach growled "So we're stuck out here in tha middle of the scariest woods known to man, without anything to eat or drink?"
"Yup"
Mylan flinched as the first raindrop slapped him right in the face. He now realized that having spent his entire life indoors studying arcane tomes, he had no idea how to survive in the wild. "So Arngrim, in your professional opinion, are we going to starve, get eaten, or die of exposure?" Mylan asked. The other two also looked to him, morbidly curious to know their most likely fate.
"I-"Arngrim was about to answer, then instantly shut his mouth as the foliage up ahead began rustle. The four readied their attacks of choice, ready to unleash Hel on whatever horrible beast that was about to step out. However, as it finally showed its face they all relaxed.
"Whew! It's only a baby deer." Rod said, relieved that it wasn't some godless, marauding, killing machine of an animal. "If something like a little deer can survive out here, I think we'll be able to make back through the Forest of Woe."
Mylan looked a bit closer, "Actually, the more precise term would be a Fawn. If you'll note the lack of antl-"
Suddenly there was a great, bellowing roar, followed by the sound of crackling branches. An enraged grizzly bear, apparently lurking from somewhere behind natures example of innocence, had seen the cuddly animal and decided that now was the time to strike. The baby fawn tried to escape but it was too late, the bear was upon it and was already mauling it to death. Our heroes watched the bloody miracle that was 'the great circle of life' for a few seconds before Mylan spoke up.
"…I don't even think he's trying to eat it. It looks like he's just being unnecessarily violent…" he said, and they all flinched at the sound of cracking bones. And just because it was the Forest of Woe, the food chain didn't end at bears at the top, not even by a long shot.
The sound of something large screeched in the sky, and was accompanied by the massive flap of wings. A Wyvern, (incidentally the same one that had been harassing Marcus and his men) swooped in and dug its talons into the massive furry predator, and in a moment that was truly surreal, they watched as the terrified bear was carried away, bellowing in terror into the night.
"Eaten. We are definitely going to be eaten." Arngrim said, finishing his earlier thought. The Forest of Woe is a god awful, horrible place. Ask anyone, and they would tell you that it all boiled down to two rules.
Rule number 1; is that whatever it is, it's probably poisonous. The frogs, the snakes, the bugs, hell even the friggin plants, were more than likely filled with some kind of murder juice.
Rule number 2; it's probably going to eat you. That's it, that's all there was to it. This too, applied to the frogs, the snakes, the bugs, and yes event the gods damned plants. If it was big, it was probably going to swallow you whole. If it was small, then you were probably going to be swarmed by hundreds of it.
It's like someone took every deadly animal from Australia, the Rain Forest, and the darkest, deepest depths of the ocean, mixed all into a single scary stretch of woods, filled it with a bunch of fog, and then poked them with a stick for good measure.
"Well bugger me sideways…" Cromm said, to which Mylan nodded.
"I have no idea what that means Cromm, but Marcus got away, he has some of the most powerful relics in existence, and even if we make it through the forest of bowel ejecting terror, we'll never make it back in time to warn anybody."
Mylan sighed, and then looked to the large Scandinavian man "So yes Cromm, for once, I think we can agree on something. Bugger us all sideways…"
The sky rumbled and right about that moment, the rain started, full and torrential. Our heroes were soaked in seconds as the chilling winds lowered the temperatures to just above the freezing point. It was almost is if the weather heard Arngrim's statement about being eaten, and intended to prove him wrong.
"I'm gonna say it guys" rod said, through soaked hair "I think we are probably the unluckiest S-O-B's out here…"
Lightning struck the deer that had been mauled to death by the bear not moments earlier.
"I'm just gonna stop talking now."
X 4 days later, in the dead city of Escascia X
Amongst the silent destruction of a city, long dead from the plague, were two figures that looked, and moved, like a couple of overgrown toddlers in giant onesies. These were men dispatched from the nearby city of Crell Monfruage, for the mission of 'personal effects requisition' and 'waste management disposal'. Sure many would argue that these men were nothing more than garbage men, who were told to engage in government sanctioned looting. But that would be like arguing that Ketchup is Catsup.
Their suits were a modern marvel of in human spell casting, in that they allowed the men to walk into plague infested territory and not become victims of said plague. To put it roughly, they were medieval HAZMAT suits, and like their 21 century counterparts, were extremely uncomfortable to wear.
A group of mages saw that places with high humidity, like swamps and marshes, had incredibly fast infection rates. Since Red Death killed in a matter of hours, entire towns and cities that lived out in the boonies would be wiped out, in as little as a day. So they speculated that the disease was carried by moisture, or in this case, the airs natural humidity. To test this, they casted a simple Water Proofing spell on some cloth, and used it to make a suit.
They were right.
Unfortunetly, the cloth for waterproofing had to be thick. It also had to be porous enough, to allow breathing, and durable so it wouldn't tear easily. The only Suitable materiel that seemed to fit the bill was wool. So you know those oversized, itchy wool mittens your grandma made for you last Christmas? Imagine having to wear an entire body suit like that.
And as it turns out, moving around in giant man size pajamas (manjamas) made of wool, had the hilariously unforeseen side effect of generating enough static electricity to rival small lightning spells.
So basically, these two unfortunate bastards were forced to walk around, sweating their extremely itchy balls off, and drag rotting bodies off the street. All of this, while trying to avoid getting electrocuted to death from touching a doorknob.
Ladies and gentlemen, these men officially had the worst job in world.
And that is no joke, that particular record had been set nearly 65 million years ago…
Xx The Stone Age xX
Homo-Erectus stood outside of his dwelling, and squinted at the sun.
This was a far simpler age. Having only recently discovered fire, this specimen of early man served only to his base instincts. One of which was made known by the growling of his stomach. Hungry as he was, Homo-Erectus had to be patient. Fire made the food safe to eat, and in most cases, it also made it tastier. Even now he could smell it cooking, as his mate tended to the flames.
"Fred!"He heard his mate call to him "Dino had an accident in the house again!"
Homo-Erectus scowled. He did not want to go inside and clean the fist sized droppings of his pet dinosaur. However though, he knew that if he ever wanted a chance to eat, or have sex again, then he would have to go and do his mate's bidding. "Coming Wilma…"
Grumbling, he picked up a nearby tool, which he kept for scooping up after the dinosaur, and grumbled as he trekked to his simple shelter. As he walked, his scooping tool revealed itself to be a bird, and in a rare laps of discipline, craned its neck and spoke.
"You think YOU have a crappy job…"
xXx
"…Me and the wife was talking, and we're thinking about going to the Chantry and applying for a last name." Earl said to Bob, as they each carried an end of a single corpse to a large pile that they were planning to burn later. Bob raised an eyebrow, though most of the effect was lost due to the wool mesh that covered his face.
"Why? Aren't last names like, 650 OTH per letter?"
"More like a thousand. But the wife thinks it would be nice to have an actual family name. You know, for when we finally decide to have kids." The two reached their destination and, at the count of three, tossed the body onto a larger pile of bodies. There was another in a nearby stable and they began to make a bee line.
"Eh… one name is good enough for me. Besides, little Katie's showing signs of being able to use magic…" Earl was stunned.
"Really? Bob, that's amazing, congratulations!" Bob didn't seem so enthusiastic. "Yea, what's gonna be amazing are the bills. You have any idea how much tuition costs for the Arcane University?"
"Aww it's not so bad, there are all sorts of grants you could apply for, and maybe she'll be good enough to get a full scholarship!" the two stepped into an unkempt, partially burnt down stable. Most of the stalls were occupied by the large carcases of horses, and lying near the back was the corpse of the stable owner, he died on a pile of hay.
"Maybe you're right." Bob snorted "We found out when she said 'goggy' and snap freezed the Henderson's dog. Caught him right when the little bastard was crapping on our lawn again. Can you imagine the look on Henderson's face, when I had to return a crystallized statue of a squatting dog?"
Earl stopped and barked out a laugh. "That is absolutely classic!" He looked down at the decrepit form "Head or feet?"
"I'll take his feet this time. It's creepy when they're staring up at you" Bob said, to which his friend nodded. They both reached down and lifted the corpse by each end. Precariously balancing his end, Earl freed one hand to scratch the top of his hood.
"You know, one of these days I'm gonna… HOLY SHIT!" he shrieked, then dropped his end. Bob, unable to keep his balance, dropped his feet and fell on his ass. "The Hel, man! Could you give me some warning next-"
"He blinked! He looked at me and blinked!" Earl said as he backed up into one of the stable doors.
"Dude relax, he's dead! He's not…gonna…oh that's not good."
They both stared in horror as the plague riddled, rotting husk of a man, was indeed blinking. In fact it was more than blinking now. His whole body twitched and writhed, his jaw began to gnash and finally it sat up. It looked directly at them and began to moan as it started to get itself to its feet.
"The stables cursed! Let's get the Hel out of here!"
The two made a mad dash to the exit, moving faster in woolen suits than anyone ever thought possible, and paused at the sight of the street.
There was movement everywhere, as bodies writhed and twitched on the ground. Some of them were already standing, their dull murky eyes staring lifelessly at nothing. Though bob couldn't see his friends face, he knew it was contorted in fear as the world's shittiest job, in a feat that seemed absolutely impossible, just got even shittier. Within seconds the walking dead looked straight at them and began to moan and to shamble after them.
"RUN!" they both took off at a sprint, but only made it two blocks before they realized how screwed they were. They were Miles from the city gates, and even though they had been systematically piling and burning bodies off of the street, that still left everyone who had died indoors, and were now pouring out into the streets. That's not even counting all of the bodies on all of the other streets that they hadn't even gotten to yet.
They'd cleared and burned hundreds, but this was a full sized city they were dealing with. That left them out numbered, 2 to upwards of a million.
"Oh gods we're trapped… We need a weapon!" the two wooly garbage men frantically looked around. Sadly, anything useful was out of range as the dead moved in like a massive, slow motion wave.
They were ready to resign to their fate when Bob had an idea.
"Wait! We might not be completely unarmed!" much to the astonishment of Earl, Bob began to run in place, purposefully rubbing his wool encased limbs against himself the whole time. Earl began to understand as he felt his hair tingle, and watched as random pieces of paper began to gravitate and cling to his friend.
Since they were technically on the job, and he was using company property, he charged forward screaming the battle cry "WORKMAN'S COMP!"
In a moment that would have made Nikola Tesla proud, a jolt of static, nearly a foot long and an inch thick, shot from his hand. There was a crack of thunder, and the walking undead creature was thrown 12 feet and landed in a smoking heap. Unfortunetly, his static attack worked both ways. Bob landed on his back, his smoldering finger still pointing, forever caught in an overcooked Fonzie 'aaaaaayyy' moment.
Seeing that he couldn't help his dead comrade, Earl used the distraction that his attack had caused, and darted through a hole in their ranks. This didn't get him very far, and he was forced to take a back alley.
And found himself in a dead-end.
He was still close enough to hear the undead tear into Bob, undoubtedly tearing off his wool safety suit like an odd Amish holiday.
It's odd to describe, but its moments like these that were the true judge of a man's character. Some would wet themselves and lay down to die, while others will scream for help in the hope that last minute salvation would come. Then, there men like Bob and Earl. They weren't soldiers, they were garbage men. Underpaid, underappreciated, and more often than not, spent most of their time having to literally put up with people's crap.
It was moments like these that showed that some people, no matter their occupation, were made of sterner stuff.
Hundreds of shambling forms gathered around the entrance of the ally. Most were tripping over each other to have a shot at getting prey. Earl looked to the sky, and saw that he had a perfect view, between the buildings, of the setting sun as it put the hills in an orange yellow hue. He took a deep, and appreciative, last breath of live giving air, and steeled himself.
"Today is a good day to die…" he said with a sense of well-being. He saw what had happened to Bob and decided that if he was going to die, then he was going to drag as many of these things to hel with him as possible. So he started to run in place, creating as much friction as possible, the effect was immediate. Every single hair on his head and body began to tingle and stood up. Any dry piece of paper within a 4 foot radius gravitated to him, in what could only be described as 'lethal static cling'. Going a step further, he poured as much energy as he could into his actions. He was rewarded, by seeing small arcs of raw static energy roil off of him. Now was the time.
With a rebel yell, Earl charged forward. Pumping his arms, and scuffling his feet along the ground, he chugged forward like Tesla's death train personified.
He was going to go out, with a bang.
Xx 48 miles away, Fairgot Fort xX
A bored sniper leaned on his long bow and did his best imitation of being alert and attentive. If his superior officer caught him sleeping, then that was an instant court marshaling. That meant beheading.
He was literally fighting boredom to save his life.
He, along with about 30 other snipers, made up of 5 man teams from 6 different armies, sat between the battlements watching the road for any traffic. The road lead to the primary safe zones from the infection, so thus his job was extremely important. However, that didn't mean that it wasn't supremely boring. It didn't help the matter that some of the people here were his sworn enemies. The entire fort, having been hastily built, and was manned by a coalition force of troops from all six cities and kingdoms. Uniforms of all colors were seen within, and though things were… tense… to say the least, they all managed to not kill each other. This was the only time anyone would ever see them working together like this.
Red Death didn't care whose colors anybody wore. Almost a %20 of Midgard was now dead, and things were far too dire to worry about politics and territory disputes in a time like this. So for now they all decided to call a cease fire, and make sure that the plague didn't spread any farther than it already has. All it would take would be a single breach in their security, and they would have millions dead.
With the stakes so high, anyone caught not doing their duty was punished by their own. And so as to not appear weak to the others, they punished as harshly as possible.
So imagine watching the same spot on your floor, day in and day out, for 12 hours a day. It doesn't do anything exiting, it's the floor. Now imagine being told, that if you're caught not watching your floor, that you would be dishonorably discharged and summarily executed. Now let's throw in a bunch of douchebags that you don't even like, and force you to do it for months on end.
To put it bluntly, it was like an episode of The Real World, that never ended, and had 12 hour commercial breaks.
Woo hoo, extra hoo…
"Did anybody else hear that?" Everyone looked up, and sure enough, they heard it too. "It sounds like thunder… but I don't see any clouds" they all kind of shrugged.
"H-Hey, somebody's coming!" Everyone looked up to the road they were guarding. Sure enough somebody was indeed coming on horseback! They all instantly jumped to their stations, excitedly chomping at the bits to have a chance to do their actual intended jobs that they were actually posted here for.
Hey don't judge, this is the most exciting thing to happen since the tumbleweed that blew by 3 weeks ago.
Each of the six teams pulled out telescopes that varied in size and make; some of them were comically huge to being downright impractical. Sadly, this was also a side effect of having waaaay too much time on their hands, and bitter rivalries that date back centuries. It all started when Coriander's team received a package in the mail, addressed from their own home base, they contained looking glasses for their snipers at the fort. Nothing fancy, just little telescopes that they could use then fold up and put into their pockets.
However, not to be outdone, Villinore put in a requisition order to their superior officers. A few days later, they were sporting a nice 3 foot, high quality, telescope that sat comfortably on a tripod.
Can you see where this is going? Unfortunetly, one cannot underestimate the power of a pissing-contest, and how far people would be willing to go to not be out done.
For a while it seemed like Solde's team was going to win, since they were a portside town, they had access to surplus naval equipment. Those guys brought in a 6 foot, 40lbs, First Alert Warship Magnifier, that required two people to operate.
But alas, it was merchant town of Lassen that won in the end. They had a booming economy, and all of it was thanks to the thriving slave trade they maintained. (The slave business was kind of like the porn industry. It was essentially recession proof) So a combination of low morals, and money to burn, made them the winners of this little contest. They went ahead and contracted the Arcane University to build them a telescope.
Two weeks later, they were the proud owners of an 11ft, experimental paraboloidal-mirror stargazer.
I feel I should point out, that all of this was for a lousy 2 mile stretch of road. On the bright side, this wasn't as bad as the 'pick your own team name' ordeal. That was a freaking nightmare. Things almost got bloody when the Artolian team tried to name themselves 'Team Better-At-Everyone-At-Everything-Including-Arts-and-Crafts'.
"Well? What do you guys see?" the others asked as Lassen's team made adjustments (this was done through a series of crankshafts and gears, as the entire set up was far too heavy to heft around). After a few seconds, the man pulled his head back and began to blink rapidly, like he was trying to shake what he saw out of his head.
"Well?" someone asked. The Lassen team sniper shrugged with a sheepish look. "I uh… didn't really see anything. I think this thing may be a bit …uh… overpowered." It wasn't really overpowered; so much as they were idiots. They were trying to use a piece of equipment, which was originally designed to observe the planet Jupiter, and use it to spot something a mere mile and a half off.
"…you're kidding me right? That big ass scope can't tell you anything?"
"nothing useful anyway..." He didn't want to mention that the only things he managed to learn, was that whoever it was, was wearing a '180 thread count' cotton shirt, and that he was in serious need of a facial exfoliate.
The Coriander long bowmen pulled their looking glasses out of their pockets, and managed to not roll their eyes.
"I see him. He's coming in, full gallop… Villnore Military… he's lightly armored. I'd say advanced scout, or messenger…" Suddenly his face turned grim. "Jeez… His face has red splotches, horse too. He's infected!"
Suddenly it was all business.
Someone sounded a battle horn, and the entire fort was set into motion. Fort Fairgot also housed a battalion from the nations and independent cities. Most of everybody sent their best, and they properly equipped them. They were all armed with long reach weapons, ranging from lances, spears, and even halberds. In the event that they had to engage somebody that was infected, they wanted to maintain as much distance as possible. Each of them was even given enchanted hoods, though they weren't as effective as the full suits, to prevent infection.
Inside, commanders were barking orders, and the gates were sealed. Everybody worked together like a well oiled machine; everything was drilled into their heads from endless practice.
After what seemed like an eternity, the lone rider finally slowed his horse near the gates. It wasn't hard to see more than 2 dozen arrows pointed at him, from the battlements and murder holes near the entrance. The Villnore rider tried to dismount his horse but ended up falling instead.
Almost simultaneously, every archer fired as one, and the sound of 30 bowstrings was followed by the heavy thud of the horse falling dead. It seemed cruel, but the horse was diseased, and having it run around would be asking for an outbreak somewhere. Mercifully, almost every arrow stuck a vital spot, so it died quickly.
For 15 long minutes, he lay there. Coughing, and trying not to wretch his guts out, before the gate opened a crack. A Villnore Captain and 2 Heavy Vanguard, who flanked their superior as escort, emerged from the opening, all of them wearing hoods. They came to a stop no closer than 10 feet away.
The captain looked the man over, he wasn't a scout, nor was he a messenger. An orange patch on his arm told him that he had been stationed at one of the quarantine outposts. They're usually set up around partially infected cities.
Like fort Fairgot, everyone pitched in, and picked different cities to help that had been hit. Be it, evacuate civilians to safe zones, or quarantine the damned. Red Death can kill a man in about 12 hours, 24 at the most, and the soldier looked like he was entering the last stages before death.
The Captain's heart went out to the man.
"State your name, and rank, son." Thanking the gods for the hood, the man didn't have to see his reaction when he looked up. His face was a mess of broken blood vessels and he looked like he was suffering from hemorrhaging fever.
"Sir," he spoke slowly, though he stilled slurred slightly "Joseph, first class general infantry, I was stationed at the Merrihill quarantine outpost, under Major Ventrales, sir"
"Why aren't you at your post? Did something happen to Ventrales?" Joseph let his head droop back down, before answering.
"Everyone's dead sir…" The captain reeled at the news "The plague victims rushed our barricades, we were overrun in minutes."
"What do you mean, he was overrun? There were 150 men stationed at Merrihill. How were they overrun by a bunch of rioters?" Plus he knew Ventrales. He was a competent man, even if they organized, there was no way he would just 'be overrun'. Joseph no longer had the energy to sit up anymore. He rolled to his back and continued to speak.
"Not rioters, the dead ones. People who died got back up…" he went into another coughing fit, which lasted until his teeth were stained red. "…they just started pouring out of the sealed areas and started killing everyone."
The Villnore captain didn't know what to say. What could he say? What he was being told was not only impossible, it was downright insane.
"Why didn't he send for reinforcements? There are two other outposts, less than a day's ride away."
"All dead. Stopped at others on the way here. Springcrest, Fallhaven, Fort Ironhedge, all dead."
"My God…" The Captain almost felt throwing up right now. None of the other outposts belonged to Villnore, Artolia was in command of Springcrest, and Fallhaven had gone completely silent, so they only had a few dozen men from Coriander. Fort Ironhedge was an independent, but they were the only stopgap measure they had. And if what he was saying was true, then the dead were rising…
"Are they coming this way?"
"Yes"
Hrist: I find your chapter to be... lacking.
SABAI (stand alone battle AI): I know! I've tried, and i've tried, but i couldnt scrub all of the suck out of this chapter. I'm finding that i have a really hard time, when it comes to trying to move the story along. Plus, i have yet to find that nice mixture of comedy and seriousness. But i'm trying.
Hrist: Meaningless excuses... And what of your next chapter? Will it actually be here within the decade?
SABAI: I-It'll be here! I've already started on it!
Arngrim: Aww cmon Hrist, cut the kid some slack. You know she's got a job and other responsibilities right?
Hrist: Well I should hope so. With writing skills like these, she most certainly would have starved long ago.
SABAI: I..wh... Thats it! Next chapter, you're gonna give a little lesson on physics.
Hrist: And what does that mean? ...And why do you have that look on your face? You shall answer me at once! Hey-