Cerebis
Darmor kneeled before the alter of the broken church he and his men took refuge
in. All around he could hear the deafening moans and wails of the unliving, as
they scrapped, scratched, and pounded against the wooden walls and pushed
themselves against the barricaded doorway. The stench of rotting flesh was
strong, and it’d only be a matter of time before those hollow carcasses broke
in and ravaged them.
His lay there dying
in agony, few would hold on through the night, if the barricade held that long,
and it was only he and Branigan that could truly fight, however he had suffered
a deep wound in his left arm. Cerebis did all he could to heal it, but the
paladin’s light had grown dim and weakened from the fight with the vicious
horde outside. Now he barely had an ounce left for one last spell, and he
doubted it would be much when the time came.
For the moment he
was glad to be here, in the safety of the church, how brief that may be, for
certainly now it was a maelstrom of chaos as the undead fiends circled around
this small building. The sky was dark this night, the moon and stars swallowed
in a sea of black clouds hanging high overhead. The only light now came from
the wooden alter, and even that grew dimmer by the minute as the evil of this
place no doubt began to take its hold.
Cerebis and his men
had set out, on horse back to this distant town in order to stop whatever evil
that began to take its hold. The town had pleaded to send help for weeks and
the Chapel had finally agreed, sending he and a score of paladins to rid
whatever dark hold was taking place.
How foolish they
were to wait, thought the man, by the time they had arrived all had been lost,
the town at first thought to be abandoned as they road in. It was desolate and
quiet, and to the paladin’s other senses there was a black veil that hung
heavily within. They road deeper and deeper, finding no signs of life, nor any
corpses to indicate a possible battle, all the while their horses whined and
neighed in complaint at being brought further in.
They probably should
have listened to the wiser beasts, and Cerebis, being the commander of the
group, should have heeded the advice of the more experienced veterans in their
group. But he was determined to find out what it was that happened and road in
force. What a fool he was. They all heard the moaning that rose ever more as
they neared the town center. It was when they rounded a bend that they
witnessed what horrors had happened.
Standing upright
with a slight hunch their bodies swayed in the soft breeze, they all quietly
moaned to each other, clothes ragged, torn, and faded they all were facing
away. Cerebis knew what he was witnessing, he had heard the tales, the stories,
and had even been trained to battle such monsters, but this was his first time
ever seeing it first hand. And their fears were only confirmed when one of the
small things turned around to face them. It was a small child from the looks, a
girl, her skin was a sickly white, her cheeks and lips were blackened and her
eyes were a pale blue as she looked up in wonder.
For a moment there
was an uneasy stillness as the rest began to turn and face the small band of
paladins, their horses frozen with fear and he could not blame them. Many of
the men let out silent prayers to their god and their hands quickly went to the
hilts of their blades, though for some reason none drew steel.
Cerebis’ eyes fell
back to the child, she looked up at him curiously and he felt his heart leap,
then suddenly the thing growled and charged at them and at that moment the
horses reared up, crying aloud at the charging monsters. The beasts were
battle-worn as well as many of their skilled riders, though the shock of an
undead mob charging at you never changed. Many of the men panicked as much as
their animals, the more experienced simply struggled to calm their mounts as
the horde washed over them.
Cerebis was at the
front of the line and took on the brute of the force, being knocked from his
mount, as well as many others as the poor beasts were dragged down under, being
ripped to shreds by the relentless undead. Bitterly he felt lucky that had
happened, as terrible as it were, it gave the men a distraction to rally up and
stand against them as they fed on the raw flesh of their hapless horses. With a
prayer to his god, Tyden, Cerebis led the first charge and smashed into the mob
of rotted flesh, their enchanted swords and maces flaying about as they beat
and sliced through the monsters. The paladin remembered well the sickly sounds
of their rotted flesh as he cut and carved his path in, occasionally bashing
away their hollowed husks as the monsters charged at him without heed or worry
of their own safety. It was Cerebis who led the spearhead assault that got them
through the thick mass of rot, but as they neared closer to the middle the men
realized their mistake in that.
For all their
strength, all their spells that put the dead to rest, many still rose back,
despite half their bodies suffering fatal injuries, it was nothing to these
unfeeling, unliving creatures. They rose and his men fell, they twisted,
turned, and fought in their death throes, desperate to break free of the rotted
horde. Evil closed in on them and the darkness of those monsters soon began to
snuff out the light they carried, their spells no longer worked as they wore
themselves out from beating the same foe only half to death.
It was soon that
Cerebis Darmor, Brinigan, and a few others had to flee after having their
numbers nearly wiped from the overwhelming horde. But there was nowhere but in
the town itself to run. Somewhere in that scrap the undead had managed to
surround and block the way out and the surviving group were forced to run to
the only safety they knew left; the chapel.
Barricading
themselves in they found a moments rest, and now as the horde continued to
close in, and knowing all seemed lost, Cerebis offered one last prayer to his
god, gathering what little strength was left and turned towards the door.
Brinigan looked
grimly at him, his sword in one hand as he leaned himself against the wall, two
others sat in agony by his feet. The man nearly nodded in understanding and
readied himself to face the horde. Although he could not go outright and fight
them like Cerebis planned to do, he could stay here and defend the fallen troops
should any—or when any get pass him.
Placing a gauntleted
hand on the door way he breathed in a sigh, offering perhaps his last prayer
and pushed aside the barricade, bursting forth, his sword held high in a
two-handed grip and prepared to die. Though, to his surprise, the man did not
come face-to-face with the horde—literally. Something had grasped their
attention and their backs were turned, hardly noticing the lone paladin.
Out in the mass of
undead creatures, Cerebis could make out another scene, he could feel the
presence of living men, fighting the undead monsters and what was more he felt
the greater presence of Tyden’ light with them. There had two be two or three
scores of them and they fought in an orderly line, letting the things come at
them and taking them down in rows rather than charging in and allowing
themselves to be overwhelmed. Soon enough the horde’s numbers began to dwindle
and only a few looked up to see the lone man standing in the chapel’s doorway.
With a raspy snarl
they charged up at him. The paladin, his hope renew, faced them off with them
and swiftly carved the first down with a single stroke of his blade. The second
latched onto his arm, attempting to bite through the chain-mail. Cerebis took
his sword in his other hand and thrusted it into the fiends eyes, cleanly
putting it through then roughly ripping it out to slice off the top of
another’s skull. Hearing the cheery shouts from Brinigan and hard thud of the
hollow corpses Cerebis did not look back, assured that his ally had the
situation well under control as the paladin moved in to join the new group.
Hacking and carving his way through, will the boy ever learn?
Quickly the
paladin joined up with the ranks, and by that time they had already finished
off the majority of the horde and with their aid were able to make it back and
secure the chapel, healing the wounded soldiers and did the gruesome task of
picking out their dead. Whatever evil had befallen the place was short lived as
the sun broke through earlier that morning and the heavy veil that seemed to
choke the land had vanished. Now begged the question of who or what caused such
a thing and whether or not they had rid unknowingly rid themselves of it during
the fight.
