Nalga, daughter of Rorek Granitehand, was fighting the urge to use her ancestors' names in vain at the hopeless situation that she and her people had found themselves confronted with. She knew her father had taken too many of her men out to fight the Beast Slayer, but she bit her tongue as was expected of her. She knew that as formidable as her family's walls were on the Grey mountains, Nalga felt more vulnerable here than she ever had, yet she bit her tongue harder.
Now she cursed her warbling appendage for not coming loose sooner at the sight of so many chaos-touched beastmen braying and battering against their gates, using massive tree trunks to both break down the front door, so to speak, while also using more tree trunks to scale the walls as impromptu siege towers. It was madness she didn't expect to see in all her years of staying within her home, but here she was.
Secretly, as beads of sweat began to roll down her brow, she had hoped that one day an invading army would test her family's walls and allow her to have an excuse to join the rest of the men on the front line…she was cursing that wish now with a vengeance what with their garrison now heavily depleted.
At least, the situation wasn't completely helpless.
"Don't tense up too much now lass. You'll break yourself before those rabid, frothing gors even get the chance." One of her father's most trusted thanes, Gunbar said gruffly. Had it been some foreign outsider, they would have thought he was chastising her as he grimly observed the siege of her family's walls.
Such words felt like a blanket of comfort to her, but she wished it came from her brother's lips if he hadn't been forced to leave after taking the drengi oath.
Nalga continued to stare witheringly at the gors as the tree trunk towers connected to the walls, forcing the paltry forces that they had to brace for the coming fight. "Our people will live to fight another day, aye Gunbar, but…but how many more karaks must our people lose…how many more?" She felt herself ask. She was young as far as dwarfs go, but she was old enough to hear about the many other karaks that had fallen throughout the centuries. To see that it was happening before her felt like someone piercing a blade through her heart. That would have honestly been preferable to her.
Gunbar grunted, shaking his head and, in turn, his mighty beard. "It's only temporary, lass. When your father comes back, he'll but these chaos damned gors to hammer and az in good time. You'll see."
Nalga felt her fists tighten. "All I'm seeing is another of our people's fall…all because of some ancestors-damned grudge."
"The greybeards were getting restless…your father needed to throw them at something." Gunbar defended. Though even he felt his argument lacked heat, especially in the face of his kin being slaughtered upon the now all-encompassing rush of the gors surging forth. Oh, his people were worth well over five-no! Ten of his fellow brethren…but against so many frothing and unrelenting gors, it simply wasn't enough. And if there was anything the centuries had taught, it was that it was never enough.
Nalga sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, willing herself to look at her father's men, her people get overwhelmed on the walls. "Let's just hope that the miners aren't too slow. If they're even a moment behind-
"They'll get our people out, lass. They know what they do best, and they're doin' it right. The women and young ones will be out of here alongside us soon enough."
"It just feels…wrong, to leave. To just take one of our ancestral underways while our home falls its-
"Boils the blood. Aye, it does. But, you have to suffer it lass. Suffer it so that we can fight another day. If not for them for yo-
"Lady Nalga!" A frantic younger voice rang out, interrupting their conversation. Out ran a master engineer, fixed with goggles soot all over his bandana and pocket-covered clothing, breathing heavily as he made his way towards the pair.
Nagla was surprised, to say the least, and made no attempt to hide it. "Batgrig! The people have been evacuated already?"
"No! Opposite!" Batgrig panted, trying to catch his breath as he finally approached the pair. "Blocked! The underways have been blocked!"
Nalga and Gunbar both paled. Neither could quite believe what they were hearing. All the color in the skin had suddenly grown cool and palid.
Gunbar stomped forward, his eyes bulging. "You chose the worst possible time for a joke Batgrig!"
"It's no joke! The underway exit has been caved in!"
"Then tell the miners to blow a hole through! We were going to use it to buy us some time, bu-
"It's too much!" Batgrig wailed, despair filling his voice. "There's simply too much earth rock and stone blocking the way! We only have enough mine charges to start a cave-in, not to blow our way through meters of stone blocking the way!"
Nalga couldn't believe what she was hearing. She didn't want to believe what she was hearing. "Batgrig…please tell me there's a way…tell me there's another way out."
The contrite face the engineer had told her everything she didn't want to know. "We would need the prowess of Grungni to get our way through their…we would need a day at most, maybe longer!...maybe if we could somehow keep those god-rotting gors away and buy some tim-
A loud shuddering bang rang through the air. To the dwarfs at the entrance to the interior of the Karak, it was like a death knell. The sound that no dwarf in any hold wanted to hear.
The sound of your gates being pierced open.
And opened they were. Forcefully by the sheer weight and strength of a group of minotaurs, snarling and breathing heavily, braying in pure rage at the bloodlust that permeated through their nostrils. With them came an outpour of many other beastmen; ungors, gors, bestigors, it was a horrifying sight to behold for the trio of dwarfs seeing this from their perch on the balcony near the interior of the Karak proper.
It was even more alarming for the dwarfs unfortunate enough to be standing near the gates to meet this savage congregation head-on. But, those very dwarf warriors did not buckle or flee. They did not sputter in fear or balk at such reckless violence.
No. They stood their ground and met the charge grimly as was expected of these defenders, even as they fell by the dozen to this brazen assault.
For Nalga, enough was enough. "Get me an az and shield."
"M-my lady! You have to flee!" Batgrig balked, horrified at the implications of the request. "We have a single gyrocopter! We can get you to-
"I am not fleeing my people! I refuse it!" The redhead growled, her face going red with anger at the indignity of the situation as she turned angrily at the engineer. "If I cannot save my people, I will die fighting for them! I'm nowhere near the warriors you two are, but I'll be damned before I shame my ancestors further!"
Gunbar was silent for a moment before he carefully looked at the defenses, seeing how hopeless the situation was as dwarven warriors fought bravely but died all the same at the sheer weight of gors pressing against them. "Would you like me to get weapons for the women and younglings, my lady?"
Batgrig looked beside himself. "Has it truly come to this Gunbar?"
"Can ye truly say there's no way to escape?"
"...not without at least a day." The engineer said hopelessly, looking in despair at the bestigors and hulking minotaurs trampling the guards under hoof. Batgrig then blinked, squinting his goggled eyes before taking them off, seeing something in the distance.
"No chance of that happening…not here." The dwarf maiden sighed before looking to move back into the interior of the karak. "…and Gunbar?...give the women everything they need. Younglings to. Better to die on their feet than in the comfort of the chaos cursed. I-
"My Lady! Another force is approaching from behind the gors!" Batgrig suddenly cried out. He quickly pulled out a telescope, fiddling with the small device to get it to extend.
And just as if one was receiving a second wind in a fight, both Gunbar and Nalga's eyes widened. This time with hope.
"By Valaya, please let it be my father!" Nalga breathed, praying to the ancestor gods for it be so.
"Don't just keep us on the edge of our damned seats, Batgrig! Who is it!?" Gunbar yelled, trying to restrain himself from shaking the engineer.
"I'm looking. I'm looking!... It's… it's not your father." The engineer's shoulders visibly sagged as he extended the telescope. The bluster he showed earlier left him faster than air in a leaky balloon.
Gunbar grumbled as all dwarfs tend to do in situations like this. "Let me guess. That posturing Beastslayer beat him here?"
"...no…it is…it is the undead...the Uzkul..."
Nalga near fell over from shock. It was as if her ancestors had forsaken her and her family right there on the spot. Yet she refused to show weakness. Not here and not now. "Batgrig….give me the scope."
It was with a stony stare to the horizon that the engineer slowly complied, a grim look on his face as she peered through the device and confirmed with horror what he had seen.
Undead. Skeletons and shambling zombies surged forward a bit of a ways away from the beastmen but not far enough away that they couldn't join in on the carnage that was about to take place.
Batgrig ground his teeth together. "Valaya, save us."
Gunbar, however, just shook his head at the hopelessness of it all. "No…no, not even Valaya can save us this time...
…
As Lyle and the rest of the necromancers gave their mental commands to their undead mob, which was now marching forward towards the battered and destroyed gates, the Jersey native turned to his fellow Dhar magic practitioners, with a parchment attached to a wooden slate and a piece of charcoal in his grasp.
On this piece of parchment was a drawn scheme with Xs and Os, with lines being drawn from where said Xs and Os would move, with Lyle tapping the board with a great deal of emphasis. Notably, Some lines had curves, while others had dotted lines.
"So we all know our roles, yeah?" Lyle asked. "No confusion or anything."
"I must admit it is not the worst of plans I have heard, though your way of communicating it is…curious." Schmitz groused as he squinted curiously at the parchment.
"It's damned effective is what it is. And it's with it that we'll kick some ugly beastmen ass. But, remember! The dwarves gotta live! We screw that up, and our deal is off with friendly resident trader, boys, and girls!"
"I still say we should kill them all and be done with it." Schmitz grumbled, folding his arms. "But, you're the master of the Barrow Legion. At the end of the day, the decision and the consequences that come with it are yours, Master Lyle."
"Appreciate the glowing endorsement Schmitz."
"If I may master Lyle." Fredericka interjected, looking curiously at the board along with so many others. "The scheme of this is quite simplistic in design, especially regarding the formation representation you have. Were you…a possible commander or military leader back on your planet."
"Nah. But, I was a leader in some capacity…a sport if you will. You could say I was the brain of the operation. A leader among men, my coach liked to call me, though I don't mean to brag." Lyle said with a decent amount of smug lacing his tone.
Fredericka blinked. "A sport?"
"Yup! I was the team's quarterback. Even during my sophomore year, I was that damned good! But we can stroke my ego some other time! We gotta put some hustle in these guys' bones and rotted flesh if we're gonna see any success today! So keep your focus up! Wendel!"
"Y-yes, Master Lyle!"
"You and Bert are gonna go to the left side and make sure those cloven-hooved shits don't get up to anything sneaky over there! Whatever you do, don't let any of them escape!"
Bertholdt waved his staff in anger. "Do not call me by an abbreviated name so lightly! I will-
"Put your anger to somethin' productive kid. Trust me. We literally don't have the time for it. Freddy! You and Schmitz are on the right. You guys know what you gotta do there. Me and Rudy will surge up the center and fuck em' in the ass."
"And what good is that peasent to you master?" Schmitz questioned warily. "Can he even fight?"
Said peasent side-eyed, the bald necromancer, looking none-too intimidated. "...I can lift a sword at the very least…can you?"
Schmitz looked ready to throw a fit before Lyle interjected again. "Ey! You guys aren't getting paid to bitch and moan with each other! Do that when we're not about to slaughter a bunch of cloven hooved-satanic-looking beasts!"
Rudy looked confused for a moment. "What does pay mean?"
Fredericka winced at the mention of that. She would have to confer with her 'master' and Schmitz about the dire finances of the legion, but that could be discussed another time. Lyle was right about one thing, now was not the time to screw up a mission such as this.
Especially since she had seen first hand what drawing the ire of a particular Tilean trader can accomplish if wronged. Plus, it was all the more imperative that they succeeded in this battle with that in mind. To regain Alberto's favor was to possibly find an avenue to amend a looming financial situation that only she knew about at present. If they couldn't find a way, however…
…well, then they could win all the battles they wanted. The legion would crumble entirely on such foundations.
"So we're all crystal about what we're doin', right?" Lyle said, snapping the necromancer from her musings. "We all good?" When a few affirmative nods and grunts of acknowledgment from this merry band of necromancers rang out, Lyle frowned in dissatisfaction. "Ey! What's with the lowlight energy level? I'm pretty sure I asked you bunch of emo-dressed, carcass hauling bastards a question. Are. You. Ready?"
Those within the legion could question their esteemed new leader's eccentricities and arrogance when dealing with others. Still, they couldn't challenge his oration skills. Even the most low-energized and placid necromancer seemed roused by his worse, giving a more affirmative 'yes' to his question.
"Then lighten up and act like it, boys and girls, 'cause we got a lot on the line here! I don't know about you guys, but that Al guy rubbed me as someone to best not fuck with! And to not fuck with him, we gotta play nice with. To play nice? We gotta go up to through those gates and show these cloven-hooved, goat-fucking man-beasts what it's like getting caught with their pants down as they did with the knights and the dwarfs! You with me!?"
Even those who looked at Lyle with contempt or wariness like Bertholdt and Schmitz were roaring in approval, with most of the pallid and pale necromancers raising their staffs in a frenzy at the short yet succinctly placed speech. Fredericka had to wonder if Ulysses gave speeches before he ever came to their world. If so, it would explain how he could rouse the spirits of a motley crew of morally dubious necromancers into a fighting spirit. Even she felt her blood pumping at the words.
"That's what I wanna hear from you guys! That's how I know you're ready! Ey, Rudy? You ready?"
"I am Lord Spoletta!
"Ready to kill your first beastman?"
"Yes My lord!"
"Ready to be a man?"
"Ready to be more than a man!" The young scarred youth cried out, his eyes ablaze in fervor.
"Then what are we all standing around for? A written invitation? Goat-fuckers clearly didn't need one! Let's gooo!" With Lyle's shout came not just the joined roars of his fellow Dhar practitioners but also the moans and shrieks of the hoard of zombies in the front of their lines, now shambling forward with reaching arms and flailing weapons, backed by hard, autonomous, and ruthless skeletons, marching in perfect unison as always.
Fredericka was beginning to wonder now if perhaps Lyle's oratory skills were tied with the Dhar that he was using. Was it enhancing their vitality? Their gumption? If so, it was working wonderfully, as she and the others immediately mounted their skeletal steeds with her and Schmitz doing as he bid and moving through the battered gate along with their own hosts of undead, aiming to go through the inner workings of the dwarven hold and push through on the right side.
For Lyle himself, as his fellow necromancers moved to do as he bid, he spearheaded the assault. However, he was wise enough to allow his skeletons and zombies to stay well ahead of him as they moved forward. As his skeletal steed trotted along, more slowly than he would have liked, thanks to the funneling of his undead horde through the gate, Lyle looked down towards Rudy. The latter was keeping pace with him holding a halberd. "You sure you don't wanna ride with me, Rudy? You seriously don't have to be a knight or anything like that."
Rudy emphatically shook his head as he resolutely marched beside his new lord. "Wouldn't be right. Sides' I can protect you better from here, m'lord. I'll see to it that not even a single beastmens' wretched breath comes close to you!"
"That bad, is it?"
Rudy shrugged. "It's what I've heard from the others in my village at least…though a lot of their corpses do tend to smell worse than cow dung."
Lyle smiled wrily at the young peasent. "Rudy, my man, I hate to say it, but you don't have much room to talk. You and the rest of your fellow countrymen smell pretty damned rank."
"We do? I never noticed."
"I can imagine you can't since you all grew up with one another-
A braying shout interrupted the two young men. However, it sounded like a group of braying creatures not far from them, to be more exact. Looking forward with purpose, it was difficult for Rudy to see over the cramped bodies of the undead. Still, on his undead steed, Lyle could see the foe he was confronted with today.
About half of the undead had made it through to the other side of the gate of the Karak when a few gors that were reveling in the butchering of the dwarfs blocking their entrance noticed the newcomers. A few roars and brays later, and the rest of his fellow beastly compatriots soon wizened up to what was happening behind them, with shock evident on their malformed and horned features.
"Shit. It looks like they've already killed some of the dwarfs." Lyle cursed as he glared at the hulking beasts, unnerved at how human they looked, yet how beastly they seemed, especially with the gore, viscera, and blood covering their chipped weapons and bodily features. "Give em' hell before they finish the rest!"
The undead surged faster now, heading to obey the lead necromancer's orders to vanquish the clovened creatures before them.
Yet to Lyle's disappointment and surprise, he could only widen his eyes as the beasts turned on their hooves and dashed further within the Karak, easily outpacing the shambling undead headed towards them.
"Sons o' bitches are fast…" Lyle said to himself.
"That's what one of the hunters in my village would say…but seeing it entirely…" Rudy mumbled as he stood on the tips of his boots. "A-are they gone, my lord, I can't quite see completely…"
"This ain't good, Rudy. If they get away, they could kill more of those dwarfs. Not only would I not be able to say I saved the day with a straight face, but Al is going to be none too pleased." Looking around himself, he spotted Fredericka not too far from him as they were both close to going through the gates. "Freddy! Pass on the word to others! Cast the Vanhel's Dance Macabre to speed up the troops! I don't want those goat-fuckers getting too far away!"
"It will be done, master!" Fredericka said, fully invested in the battle now as she relayed her orders to the necromancers on her side.
Lyle then turned to his left. "Wendel! Vanhel's Dance Macabre, pronto! Our undead boys need a kick of speed!"
"Right away, master, L-
"Pah! A paltry spell for someone of my esteem!" Bertholdt cackled. "Wendel and the rest of the lesser stick wavers can perform this mediocre service. I shall save for my magic for the true spectacle and apex of this coming battle!"
Lyle stared at him for a beat as their steeds trotted forward, his ears and, in turn, his brain processing what the masked man just said before he spoke. "I'm sorry, but did you j-
Wendel spoke up before he could finish, however. "It's quite alright, Master Lyle! I-in fact, me and the others should be more than enough to comply with your request!"
"See! Even my lessers agree! Now let us put the fear of Naggash within these twisted beasts, shall we? I'm practically teeming with delight at what their horrified expressions will be shortly before I put their corpses to use!" Bertholdt then surged forward, skeletal horse and all, and practically shoved through the last remaining undead that had yet come through, with Wendel shooting him an apologetic look as he and his entourage of necromancers joined them.
While Fredericka, Schmitz, and their group followed soon after, not hearing the exchange Lyle reflected for a moment on what had just transpired as his steed trotted forward slowly. It made him reflect on something his uncle told him about nipping insubordination in the bud when it came to the family…he thought he got his point across to the Burtholdt earlier with his arm trick. Still, obviously, the message hadn't completely sunk in.
It was times like this that made the Jersey native have an internal war within himself as to what he considered just or too cruel when reeling in those supposedly supposed to be working for him. It was something that made him wonder if his uncle thought himself or if such decisions just came naturally to him.
It took Thing poking his cheek while saddled on his shoulder to get him to snap back to the reality unfolding before him, causing him to see the beastmen bottled up within the main street, clearly making a stand and not in the mood to run now that they had regrouped. Many of these beasts were breathing heavily, lashing around their heads and horns while grinding their hooves on the incredibly paved dwarven roads.
As Lyle joined the rest of the necromancers, Fredericka looked at him with concern. "It doesn't look like this is all of them. There may be more of them further within the hold, but do you believe you can handle them, master?"
Lyle gave a confident smile to alleviate the girl's concerns. "C'mon Freddy, who do you think you're talkin' to here? Don't worry. I'll play it safe. I got plenty of corpses between myself and them. Just stick to the plan, and we're crystal."
She still looked a bit more concerned before she eventually gave a sharp nod, moving towards another street on the right with her own horde of undead and acolytes.
Lyle grinned as he watched her trot away. He must be growing on her to show this much concern for him. Then again she did save his ass from his own stupid mistake, so clealry she had to care for him on SOME level.
A mistake he wasn't too keen on mistaking as he marched his undead forward.
…
Moments before this clash occurred, Nalga and her fellow dwarves could only watch in shock as the two horrific sides began to square off with one another.
"Are they…are they going to bloody fight each other? Here?" Batgrig asked aloud, disbelief evident in his voice.
Gunbar's eyes widened as both undead, and cloven ones began to close in, the zombies shambling forward with ungor and ungors thundering with the force of a mighty gale. "They bloody damn well are! Our ancestors may have not just forsaken us yet!" The thane cheered with reinvigorated wind flowing back into him. "My Lady! If we wait long enough for those two monstrous hordes to decimate each other, we can get a few great cannons together and blast away what's left! We can hold out just yet!"
"And our warriors' deaths will no longer be in vain!" Nalga smiled, silently thanking the fortune that smiled upon her and her people. "Batgrig! See what cannons and other ordinances you can scrounge up from within our hold! Get as many volunteers as you can! We may not be as long-limbed as those beasts downstairs, but I reckon we can outpace them!"
"On it m'lady!" Batgrig nodded, moving as fast as his short legs would allow him, back within the hold.
Back on the streets of the Karak, Lyle was momentarily surprised at how vicious, and utterly brutal the beastmen charge was, with the gors and ungors throwing their bodies with animalistic recklessness, headed by the horns on their heads, especially the gors. Their hooved legs gave their charge a level of explosivity that the zombies couldn't match as they were bowled over and torn into with beastly savagery with horns, axes, and spears aplenty.
"Say, Rudy? Do the stories your fellow villagers spoke about these guys do them any justice?"
"No…By the Lady, I can smell their breath from here. Even past your undead, my lord." Rudy muttered, standing firmly by Lyle's skeletal steed.
"Might even just be them. But damn, I gotta admit. These guys are tearing into my undead red-shirts…even if isn't that big of a deal."
Rudy looked at him in surprise. "T-truly, my lord? B-but if they cut them all down then-
"Then, they're going to be all nice and tired. Trust me. When I was a quarterback in my school, I felt all the issues that come with doing the same thing over and over again. My throwing arm that I relied on in the game would eventually start to get tired. My accuracy would start to be off. The balls I'd throw wouldn't have as much power and in turn speed as usual… I'm not going to lie, some of these beastmen have gains that not even I have, but that's just fine. That's just more muscle they have to swing around."
"S-so…what you're saying is that…"
"IS that I'm just wearing em' out. Softening em' up." Lyle smirked. "Cause in case your eyesight is going bad, Rudy, they've got bone boys to deal with next."
True to Lyle's words, the zombies were getting torn into with reckless abandon and quite handily by the gors and bestigors, who were more competent at vicious hand-to-hand fighting than peasants. What made this worse for the zombies was the insertion of the minotaurs, with twenty-four of them in total dwarfing all the other combatants around them while stomping with hooves and slashing with axes of their own.
This success, however, would eventually be blunted with a mental command given to the skeleton warriors standing just behind the zombies, carrying shields, swords, and/or spears, now closing ranks and supporting the battered yet unyielding fleshy undead.
A minotaur roared in both anger and pain. A spear was lodged right into its thigh, causing it to buckle and slash with one of its axes, only to leave its neck exposed long enough for an errant sword to be shoved right into it, courtesy of a zombie with half of the left side of its body missing. The minotaur gurgled and spat blood, collapsing onto a few fellow ungors as the skeletons and zombies continued to stab away at its body, creating a scene of utter carnage.
Soon enough, an eerie and similar tale began to play out for much of the other beastmen who suddenly found themselves beset by these new skeletal foes who attacked without fear and brutality that overshadowed their feral counterparts. The Gors and Ungors, who had been slaughtering mindless zombies up until this point we're no longer as fresh when the fighting began. Plus, one cannot forget that they also rushed through the gates, with others attacking the walls and fighting through stubborn dwarfs.
Ax swings suddenly were slower. Surefire strikes that would bring the undead down were now only inconveniencing them, evidenced by an ax swing that found itself lodged into a skeleton's rib cage, which returned the favor by swinging a sword at a gor, causing it to roar in pain at the loss of its eye. Ungors were outright getting butchered by these monotonous killing machines, utterly exhausted and not used to fighting for this long, their earlier confidence waning at the face of this terrifying assault.
Though it was harder to see from his position on the ground, Rudy could see the tide beginning to turn. "A-are you sure you weren't a lord who commanded armies before Lord Lyle?"
Lyle grinned, lapping up the admiration. "Nah, but from what I can see, it's pretty damn easy when you can control every aspect of the army a-
"Enjoy the spoils of your carnage, human! Enjoy the blood that you spill! Soon it will be yours that mixes with it!" A guttural and ferocious voice roared, made impressive over the fact that it could be heard over the sound of battle. Immediately Lyle, on his steed with his helped stature, could notice the man or rather beastman that spoke. It was a hooded beastman, who didn't have the muscles in comparison to the gors or minotaurs in battle, but one that carried a wooden and even more gnarled-looking staff than Lyle's.
That's gotta be the brains behind this herd. The Jersey native smirked, tilting his head in amusement. "I wasn't told you guys could speak on our level!" Lyle shouted over the fighting, his skeleton warriors starting to cut their way forward through the beasts before them.
"The crow has blessed me! He grants me many blessings to rend upon man! Blessings that you will feel firsthand!"
"Well, he sure as shit doesn't look like he's doing you any favors right now! Especially right behind you!"
The bray shaman stared at the human for a moment, unworried by the losing battle happening in front of him and wary of a trap. His curiosity won out, however, and his eyes widened as ungors and bestigors began to spill over in the streets behind him, with undead hacking away at their heels, threatening to cut off the beastmen entirely in a massive encirclement.
"Lemme guess? Your crow a god of yours?" Lyle asked teasingly at the bray shaman. "I've heard you guys got Gods aplenty hear, but so far, I have to admit, I ain't so impressed! You think he can bail your sorry cloven asses out of this one?"
The shaman ground its large teeth for a moment at the taunts before an ugly, withering smile broke out on its face that genuinely set the leader of the Barrow Legion on edge as the carnage crept closer.
"See what the ruinous powers can bring yourself, plaything of the Rotted One!" Immediately Lyle could feel a change in the winds of magic, as a primal and virulent sensation began to give him goosebumps, whipping around the bray shaman when it raised its staff.
Wait! This guy can use magic too? However, the realization came too late, for suddenly, a shockwave of power was let out around the shaman, leaving Lyle wondering what happened.
The answer came quickly, and with a vengeance for suddenly, a hand burst from the stone-paved ground, a wave of light blue mist flowing off of it, knocking over a small group of zombies and skeletons. As the and gripped the ground, something more followed it, along with an arm, and form what Lyle could see a back…a very, very large back."
"What the fuck?" That was all that came from the necromancer's mouth as even more of this creature began to climb out of the hole it created. The beast was gargantuan, quickly going past fifteen feet in height, bulging with muscle, and of course, complete with cloven hooves. It had a tuft of black hair on the top of its head that was strangely shaped like a mohawk, with one single large eye in the center of its face, right above a sizeable snarling mouth.
"What. The. Fuck." Lyle stated once again. What was he even staring at? He knew he could summon undead with his magic, but to summon something like this? How did that even work? Again. What even was this? Questions were going through his mind at a mile a minute before something finally dawned on him.
The creature was digging its hands into the ground.
And then it pulled out a large, car-sized boulder that was glowing blue with roots hanging out of it, resting it on its shoulder.
It then turned its single eye towards Lyle himself.
"How the hell is that even possible-it!...wha…is this ground always glowing or-
The creature then began to step back, prepping to throw the boulder as if one would throw a shotput.
"Lord Lyle, get out of the way!" Rudy wasn't waiting for his new master to respond. He acted quickly, dropping his polearm and grabbing Lyle by his cloak, yanking him off his skeletal steed just as the large house-sized beast chucked the glowing blue bowlder right into his direction.
Lyle was contemplating what he had just witnessed up until he saw the blue boulder smash right into where he had just been moments ago. The Jersey Native sputtered as he fell to the ground into a bodily heap, reducing his bony horse as well as the zombies and skeletons standing around it to pieces and paste. The shockwave of the throw was so intense bones and body parts scattered around the area, with a zombie's body landing right on top of Lyle, who prevented the meat-puppet from completely falling on him by pushing it away with his left hand, utterly stunned.
"You alive, Rudy?" Lyle breathed, still getting his bearings.
"Yes, my lord. Very much so! I'd hate for this to be the Lady's realm!" The young man breathed, trying to stand himself and Lyle up quickly.
"Oh, okay! That's good! That's very good! Which means you can tell me, what in Mary Mother of God's name is that demonic bull from hell!"
"A-a Cygor!...I think?"
"You think!?"
"I've only heard stories! F-from Errant Knights passing through my village! I thought they were JUST stories! Monsters only made up in dreams!"
"My boy! This a damned nightmare, nobody told me that there were monsters the size of a damned house wildin' out like King Kong!"
As Lyle got to his feet on shaky legs with Rudy's help, he couldn't help but gape at the fact that this one-eyed monstrosity was bending down again and pulling yet another boulder out of the ground.
Where the hell is it getting these damned things?
Unfortunately, Lyle had no time to ponder where this Cygor's supply of ready-made boulders was coming from. The arrival of the cygor had punched a hole through the battle lines in front of him, scattering a portion of his undead warriors.
Something that a few Minotaurs were all too eager to exploit as they smashed their way through the now gaping hole, exploiting the apparent weakness with a charge.
Rudy, seeing this, went eyed for a moment before they narrowed in a murderous glint. He quickly grabbed a nearby spear, stepping in front of Lyle speedily and with purpose. "Lord Lyle! I'll hold them off! Get to a safe distance and-
"Rudy, Rudy…The cygor is a problem, I admit…but in the case of these minotaurs, ain't you forgetting something?" Lyle said in an attempt to calm down not just Rudy but himself as he steadied his heart rate. "Remember the plan? Remember the Sneak?"
"The sneak?"
"Yeah, man! The sneak! Don't tell me you forgot!" Lyle smirked as he gave a mental command. Before Rudy could question further, he could hear the whales of rattling bones. A bone-chilling feeling went down his spine as he turned toward its source. The young scarred Brettish peasant had to suppress a shiver as he was greeted by the sight of phantasmic blue Hex Wraiths, wielding scythes and rushing past the two humans with blue smoke trailing behind them.
"Though I suppose it would be better actually to call it a disguise…, we would have been the ones on defense for that to make sense." Lyle shrugged with a smirk.
The smirk turned into a smile when two snarling minotaurs fully bulldozed their ways through the frontline. Steam came out of their noses when they were suddenly bowled over by the ghostly momentum on the part of the hexwraiths, cutting deeply into the hooved menaces and plugging the hole that was made. For a horde of horse riding ghosts, the sheer momentum through which they attacked with their scythes was horrifying to behold.
Sadly Lyle was forced to snap back to the reality of the situation as another thunderous crash occurred not far from him. Namely in the form of another massive boulder hitting the front lines, smashing undead into pulped meat and fractured bone, along with even some unfortunate beastmen too close for comfort.
Lyle, realizing how grave the situation was, quickly sent mental commands for the line to thin and for the hole to reform, but he knew that it was only a stopgap. As the beastmen got a second wind, and with the cygor bending down to scoop out yet another boulder, his forces would only continue to get pummeled by these boulders until something was done.
I could send in the cairn wraiths, but I've got a wall of rabid cloven-hoofed beasts in my way. Through there is a no-go. I can't go around, that'd take too long and…wait…what are the others doing?
Realizing that looking over this horde of fighting was an exercise in futility, Lyle beckoned Rudy over, kneeling to the peasant's confusion. "Rudy! Get on my back and tell me what the hell Freddy and everyone else is doing? Are they in a position to do anything?"
To the necromancer's confusion, Rudy blushed, looking aghast. "M-master Lyle! Th-that is-I-I can't! I'm a lowly peasant! You're a lord I-
"Dammit, Rudy, our survival and your people's future betterment are on the line. Get on my back and tell me what I wanna know! Now!"
"Y-Yes My lord!" Sufficiently cowed, Rudy awkwardly got onto Lyle's shoulders, taking care not to hurt him but far too slow for the Jersey native's liking. Rudy had to let out a yelp of surprise as Lyle suddenly stood up, surprising the peasant with his strength to be able to do so but also giving him a decent view of the battlefield.
What he saw, past the cygor in particular, wasn't encouraging.
"L-lord Lyle! Bestigors!"
"Bestigors?...you mean those bigass beastmen that got the longest horns of the bunch? The one that Bert was collecting hearts out of because they're so rare and beefy?"
"The very ones that are tearing through Fredericka and everyone else's undead, my lord! They…they must have been hiding behind the main force!" Rudy's words proved ominously true, as the bestigors, being the apex of the average beastman, was more than a match for the rank and file undead, even when against skeletons. These Bestigors were tearing through bone and flesh alike with such ease that the necromancers on the other side, including Fredericka and Schmitz, were becoming hard-pressed to repair the damage that was being rented.
"Dammit!" Lyle cursed as he squatted down and shoved Rudy to ground level, allowing the young peasant to land on his feet with a yelp. "No choice now! Gotta dish out the big guns!"
"I hate to seem like I didn't pay attention to the plan Lord Lyle, but what big guns are you talking about?...also, what is a gun…L-lord Lyle?"
Lyle wasn't listening anymore. Before he began to concentrate, he sent one final mental command to his cairn wraiths to support the frontline as best as possible so that he could pull what was needed next. He had to remind himself later to thank both Fredericka and Thing profusely for drilling it into him to learn more spells. Particularly the one that was needed most in this situation.
The winds of magic began to gather around him once more, This time warping and gathering at the tip of his gnarled staff, the invocation building on the end of his tongue.
The bray shaman, which had been reveling in the carnage happening before it, took note of the change in the winds of magic. Its ears twitched as it noted how it was gathering around the man just behind the front lines.
And then Lyle thought of the words. Gaze of Naggash. A dark beam was flung right out of the tip of Lyle's staff, bending, twisting malevolently with a dark sickly green streak behind it as it soared towards its target…right at the cygor, which was getting ready to launch yet another boulder.
The cygor was too late to react as the bolt struck its right bicep, causing the beast to yelp and drop its boulder, nearly crushing the bray shaman that barely managed to get out of the way. Sadly the two ungors standing next to it were not as fortunate.
The leader of the Barrow Legion cursed allowed as his worst fears came true. The spell wasn't powerful nor big enough to cause the Cygor to turn t bones in one strike. It seemed that only a large patch of its bicep looked like it was warped, charred, horrifically degraded. Yet, the titanic beast's roar only signaled it was feeling equal parts pain and rage.
This was emphasized when the beast forewent grabbing boulders now. Instead, it was now giving into its baser animalistic instincts by just stomping towards the front line and stamping its massive hooves on anyone and anything unfortunate to be under them. Undead bone and flesh became pulped and crumpled under such weight. Even unlucky Ungors and Gor's were not spared of this beast's rath as it brayed and snorted in a fit of anger.
"Crap. I gotta call Krell. Maybe he has experience in killing these beasts?" Lyle asked himself as he began the process of summoning the undead champion. Before he could go any further, however, a loud yet familiar voice boomed over the battle.
"How sad of a display that was from our vaunted Master!" It was Bertholdt, he realized. Lyle could see the man standing atop of a horse, showing outstanding balance and dramatic flair, even as his forces were tied up dealing with the bestigors. "Allow me to demonstrate to you Master, my colleagues, and all you sad beasts of chaos what the true power of Naggash's art truly is!"
"The man's got a pair of lungs on him. I'll give him that." Lyle remarked as he soon noticed the winds of magic being pulled towards Bertholdt's direction. His studies into Kemmler's grimoire had allowed him to catch these other winds of magic and get a more substantial feel towards him. He couldn't help but notice how quickly they were heading towards Bertholdt.
Soon it all began to drench and wrap around the masked necromancer, standing proudly atop his skeletal steed. He could feel it wrapping around his staff with much sharper precision than his own spell and with so much more Dhar coming around it. Dare he say it felt volatile from here!
And where Lyle and so many other necromancers mentally said the spell to invoke it, Bertholdt's love for the dramatic came through once more with a verbal declaration. "GAZE OF NAGGASH!"
If Lyle's spell was akin to a sniper bullet, Bertholdt's was the size of a javelin missile, hurtling towards the cygor with looming speed, arcing until it seemed to be dipping towards the lower part of its body.
Since the cygor was so focused on wreaking destruction at its hooves, it was wholly unprepared for the damage that was to be brought to its right leg.
The explosion of the force of the blow was so great and mighty the shockwave that erupted could be felt by even Lyle and Rudy as both suddenly had to right their footing to prevent themselves from being blown away like so many beastmen and undead nearby, creating a mess of fleshy and bony limbs around the cygor.
When the dust settled, Lyle and Rudy, along with even the bray shaman, openly gaped at the sight of the cygor falling forward, like a tree that had been cut asunder, his right leg now nothing more than a bare skeletal appendage. A useless conglomerate of bones that did nothing to support the monster as he fell right on top of friend and foe alike with a massive thud, wailing in utter agony.
As the dust settled, Bertholdt continued to laugh. His laugh was so bodaciously loud and proud that it fit perfectly with the madness happening. Bestigors that were fighting the rear forces were suddenly looking less confident at the site of their trump card being felled so quickly.
Yet as soon as the laughing began, it ended quickly afterward. For it was then that, like a puppet with his strings cut off, Bertholdt fell backward right off his horse in a very undignified manner.
"...the hell?...was he hit?" Lyle asked, confused by what had just happened.
His attention was torn from Bertholdt falling by the pain-filled raging by the cygor. Still, very much alive and still very much in a mood for murder as its hands started battering away. Blood was pooling around its skeletal leg, which was barely staying attached to its body, as it seemed to pull itself towards Lyle's direction, its single eye practically brimming with hatred and malice.
"Perhaps you should hit him again, lord Lyle?" Rudy asked nervously.
"I think I'll just send Krell to kill it. I mean he can…wait..what in th-
Lyle then saw. It was a zombie. A zombie that was suddenly within the vicinity of the crawling cygor, standing near its head with a spear, within reach of its long muscular arms, but unnoticed by its single eye…it looked vaguely familiar to the head of the Barrow Legion.
Then with speed and dexterity that Lyle had yet to see in a zombie thus far, the undead spun its spear until the point tip was directly in front of the cygor's eye, as it stepped forward with a smooth gate and posture.
And then thrust the spear dead in the center of the cygor's eye.
Before the beast could wail in even more unending pain and suffering, the zombie suddenly pulled out a hammer with its opposite arm, slamming it right into the other end of the spear, shoving it right into the socket of the mutated animal.
Suddenly the cygor stilled and moved no more.
Lyle was stunned. The bray shaman looked in horror.
"Rudy are you seeing this shit!?" Lyle asked only to pause when he realized the young man was no longer standing next to him. "Rudy?"
Looking ahead, Lyle was now stunned once more when he saw the young youth running towards the battle lines, the spear firmly in his grasp as he made to throw it.
"The hell are you doing Rudy!? Didn't your parents tell you being a hero is a one way ticket to your Lady!?"
The bray shaman started shouting to its troops. The tide began turning as undead renewed their assaults on the wavering beastmen.
And then, with a mighty heave and a shout of effort, Rudy hurled his spear.
Lyle and even the zombie which had killed the Cygor stared wide-eyed as it cleaved through the air, dipping and then falling towards its destination once it cleared the battle lines.
It happened far too quickly. One moment the Bray shaman began to gather the winds of magic again, as if ready to cast another spell.
The next moment the spear slipped just past him, catching its neck and tearing its throat open, whatever incantation it was getting ready to speak in its native guttural tongue dead on arrival.
And then it fell to the ground, its body spasming and twisting, desperate for air it suddenly could not inhale.
Just like that, a wave of shock and awe permeated throughout the battle. Even the bestigors, which had been gladly cleaving through undead rear forces, could only stare, their confidence now openly wavering at the site of the horde's leader, deceased along with the cygor so quickly.
Surprisingly, the bestigors fighting Fredericka and everyone else's rearguard broke first. As much as they were the most vicious of the beastmen, they were also the smartest. They seemed to know that things would fall apart from there, so the moment they could disengage from the zombies and skeletons, they booked it. They pounded their hooves onto the dwarven-made pavement with a speed that was hard to match as they seemed to bolt for the front line.
The ungors and gors, who had looked behind themselves to see the fall of their leader and the subsequent fleeing of their finest warriors, were soon to follow. The brays of savagery and battle were now brays of panic and fear. Fear that spread throughout the rest of the herd like a quick spread plague infecting a body, killing it from within.
"I did it, Lord Lyle, I did it!" Rudy cheered, an ecstatic grin on his face as he hopped up and down into the air, his eyes wide in joy. "I did it! I'm a man! I killed my first beastman! The leader of a brayherd! I-Ack!" Rudy suddenly found Thing wrapped around his mouth with several other undead pulling him backward towards Lyle.
"Rudy, I'm proud of you an' all, but I'd prefer that you don't get killed on the cusp of manhood. That kinda talk can get you the wrong kind of attention real quick."
When Thing detached from Rudy's mouth and landed on the young man's shoulder, the detached bony hand shook a finger at the youth. Obviously joining in on the chastisement of the young man.
Looking suitably chagrined, the scarred youth scratched his head. "F-forgive me, my lord I just...I just wanted to be a man, is all. Even if most of them are looking to escape."
And it was here that Lyle found himself wondering what to do in this situation. On the one hand, if he bottled these beastmen up and butchered them all, he would take some pretty hefty losses himself due to the panic of it all. On the other hand, he could just create and open and let them go. His job was to prevent the dwarves from being butchered, not exterminate the beastmen.
It was in this moment of a quandary as his front line began to buckle from the sheer weight of panicking beastmen, he turned to his fellow Brettonian. "What do you think, Rudy? You've heard all the stories of these guys…what would happen if I let them go out into the wild."
Rudy looked at him strangely for a moment before looking at the beastmen, pushing and shoving frantically to get past his thinning line of the undead. His fretting and worried look began to form into a cold stare.
"My lord…I will respect any decision you mak-
"That isn't what I asked Rudy. You said you're a man now didn't you? Give me an answer, man to man."
Finally, Rudy looked at Lyle dead in the eyes. His eyes hardened into something fierce. "If you let them all go…they will regroup and go back to the forests…there they will start with our cattle…then the children…then strike a village when everyone's asleep, our limbs and bodies exhausted from farming, wood chopping, and whatever other work was needed to be done by our lord…oftentimes by the time a lord does do something, its too late…the most unlucky peasants are those whose villages have disappeared…with not even any blood to let us know anyone was there… that's what my pa would tell me when he was drafted in a hunt to cut down those beasts."
Lyle looked at the beasts themselves, and they seemed to be wisening up, gathering in one central blob of sorts to push through, with many hacking and cutting down his zombies and skeletons in the frantic escape. The cairn and hexwraiths were holding up admirably, and if Fredericka and the others were smart, they would be closing in behind them…but how many more undead would he lose in the process?
It was times like this that he thought back to what Uncle Eddie would do. Even if he really shouldn't, given his history with the man. Still, he couldn't deny his wisdom regarding high-stress situations.
Namely, how he tricked a couple of would-be robbers from taking his dope stash by setting off the alarm in his pawnshop. Predictably, they bolted for the nearest exit towards the back entrance and headed for the tourist, allowing his oh-so-kind uncle and buddies to pump them full of lead.
Lyle was just thirteen when he saw it, and the casual way Eddie smiled afterward and asked if we all wanted a drink afterward was something he would never forget.
Nor would he forget the tactics. Herding people like sheep wasn't too far off in this case since these beasts were practically half goat.
So he sent a mental command. It was a simple mental command.
He ordered his undead to part the red sea, so to speak by splitting his front line in half, allowing the beast-men to have a clear route through which they can escape. Lyle also notably pulled his Hexwraiths away, pulling them clear away from the path of the escape route.
Just to be sure, no funny business would happen, he had a sizable group of skeleton warriors and a few zombies form a ring of defense around himself and Rudy, who looked surprised by the action, and though he tried to hide, more than a little disappointed.
Predictably, what ensued afterward was a mad dash by the Beast men, Bestigors, Gors, and Ungors damn near trampled one another in a stampede of survival, doing everything that they could to flee the slaughter now approaching them.
It wasn't long ago when I mighty bray-heard stormed through this Karak's vaunted walls, seeking to despoil it in the name of its dark gods in a horrific way of getting their favor.
Now they were fleeing through the very same walls they penetrated with, with only animalistic instinct driving them forward towards salvation.
Rudy sighed. "Many of my countrymen are going to suffer in the days ahead. Even if they do blindly fight for those Lady damned nobles."
To the peasant's surprise, Lyle shook his head as the final stragglers stomped their way past the pair. "Nah. Just them…"
Then Lyle released the hounds. The dire wolves had been waiting outside the walls for just an occasion. They would gladly hunt this disorganized and frenzied heard down, or at the very least slow them down.
The Hexrwaiths that bolted past Lyle and a surprised but now understanding Rudy would take care of the rest, their ghastly speed more than enough to overtake the stragglers with ethereal scythes at the ready.
Already the duo could hear the brays of terror being from the fleeing beasts, the shouts and cries becoming ever so distant along with the snarls of hounds.
"...thank you, Lord Lyle."
"Don't mention it Rudy. I mean, someone's gotta llookoutfor the little guy."
"A dangerous if not admirable goal to strive for…Master Spoletta." A lethargic yet strangely professional voice clipped into the conversation. The voice also sounded strangely prim, proper, and unless Lyles' ears were lying to him…extremely English.
The two young men turned to their left and after looking through a gap between his interlocking undead soldiers, Lyle spotted the familiar sight of the undead that had single-handedly turned the tide of this battle.
Squinting his eyes as he ordered his ring of protectors to part and give him a better view, he realized that this particular undead looked a bit different in terms of attires in comparison to his standard poorly made Brettonian uniform wearing counterparts. If anything, his clothing looked like a more rundown version of Alberto's clothes, whereas it had more cuts, tears and more subdued and less pronounced colors.
"Wait...are you actually talkin' to me right now?"
"It would appear so, Master Lyle." The zombie remarked, holding its hands behind in a stiff and dignified manner as it could muster. There were no eyeballs in the zombie's face, with two pinpricks of blue light appearing instead, much like many of the other undead. Its lips were nonexistent, allowing this particular undead's teeth to be seen in full, rotted gums and all. "I daresay my faculties are returning to the fray once more since the din of this battle and though my body is not what it once was, it's a joy to break in my old joints again."
Rudy looked unnerved. "Is this normal, Lord Lyle?"
"Come to think of it I did forget to mention or even ask Freddy about this. Only other time I've seen this is with Thing...speakin' of which, you know anything about this Thing?"
Still perched on an uncomfortable-looking Rudy, specifically on his shoulder, Thing shook itself side to side, indicating the negative.
"Huh. The only other person or undead in this case that actually talks is Krell, but I always just assumed its because he was overly powerful or somethin' y'know?"
The undead nodded before Lyle as if acceding the point. "I would love to continue this conversation in possibilities concerning your new wind of magic lord Lyle, but your safety is my current concern. There are still beastmen within this dwarven Karak that roam within, and I would be terribly remiss if I allowed any of them to invade your fantastical presence. Now then, if you would excuse me."
Pivoting on a limp leg, the English accented zombie shuffled away but, dare Lyle say with a great deal of dignity and poise. A dagger was now in the creature's grasp as it headed towards the stray beastmen still fleeing or fighting in individual cut-off pockets of other undead.
The leader of the Barrow Legion blinked, remarking on what this new prim and proper undead just mentioned.
"Did he just say new wind o' magic?"
…
Back on their perch in the back of the Karak, Batgrig hustled back to his Lady, a bead of sweat building over his forehead as he struggled to catch his breath. What he wouldn't do to just use the only remaining gyrocopter available.
"M'lady! The many ladies are more than accomodating for pushing the canons here! They'll be here in a few minut-
"We don't have a few minutes anymore Batgrig." The calmness of Nalga's voice immediately set the dwarf engineer on edge. "The Gors are scattered…the undead host still mostly intact…and heading our way."
Scratch that. Batgrig was no longer on edge. His gut was now plummeting down low in ways he didn't think possible.
Gunbar ground his teeth, setting at the approaching horde, a sharp contrast to how calm Nalga looked, but how terrified she indeed was. The thane then closed his eyes. "My lady, it's not honorable to be sure…but, I could never face your father again here or beyond if I had to tell him I let ye die." The thane then sighed deeply. "Batgrig get the gyrocopter read-
"No."
"My lady!" Gunbar nearly shouted, losing his composure, as his face began to go red, both at the situation and at the indignity of how far things had come. "We cannot hold them here! We-
"I know…which is why I'm going to…talk to them."
"Not even Valaya could protect you, my lady!" Batgrig cried out of his brief grief-stricken stupor. "They're Uzkul damned monsters, and they'll gleefully defile you!"
"And if we fight here and now, they'll do that anyway." Nalga bit out, her calmness cracking as she sneered at the horde, defiling her ancestors' home with their mere presence. "If we talk…if we…look, they came here for a reason, didn't they? They came here when the chaos touched gors were ready to rend us limb for limb. So why attack them? They could have just waited for the beasts to finish the job!"
That actually drew beat of silence from the two dwarfs, who furrowed their very bushy brows before the engineer spoke, more unsure. "...maybe they wanted to the credit of killing us?"
Gunbar snorted derisively. "I've killed plenty o' necromancers on the other side o' the grey mountains. They aren't that proud, Batgrig."
"Which means they want something from us…something that we may be able to provide in exchange for…for the wellbeing of my people." Nalga sighed, liking the decision she was coming to now more than ever.
Batgrig wasn't convinced. "W-what could they even want from us? Our gold? The crypts of our ancestors?"
"Maybe…and maybe if it's within reason, we can give it to them. To allow us to live a bit longer. To maybe give my damned father more time."
"And what if you're in the wrong, lass?" Gunbar grumbled, his eyes now filled with worry. "What if they just are here to torment you before they turn you into one of their Uzkul damned thralls? What then?"
Nalga looked at her father's thane. A man who had looked after her and bothered to teach her the way of the az when so many others couldn't or wouldn't. A second father or uncle to her. She smiled sadly at the man. "Then at least I can die with my people and not go down as one who abandoned them…I swore to myself that I would do everything in my power to help them when my father left. I'll be damned before following the path of an accursed Unbaraki."
A/N: Yeah, this took longer than I wish it did. It was mostly technical issues that slowed down the release, but thankfully they've been ironed out. Please let me know what you think so far in the reviews. I appreciate you guys coming along this far in the ride.