A Test of Faith

[Sarcof 98]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KY2KzjVNoKY

It was a quiet night in Outremer. Torches glimmered along the paths, lights glowed gently in the houses. Crusaders passed from one pool of light to the next, wary of an attack, be it from Tartar remnants or some undiscovered foe. The night was disturbed suddenly, the feral growls of necrophages shattering the night air. Crusaders drew steel and ferrum, some already on duty, others pulling on armor and grabbing weapons before exiting their houses into the unforgiving darkness of the night. From the shore sounded the feral cries of drowners, shrieking as they charged towards the pools of light, the forming line of crusaders, armor and blades glinting in the yellow glow of the torches. Shields were raised, bodies hitting that wall of steel and flesh.

The initial chaos of body against body was a madhouse. Steel lashed out ineffectually, a few of the drowners falling as they tried to press forwards, crusaders struggling to hold their footing and discern if the line had been breached. Fortunately, it had not. The line held, drowners on one side, claws lashing out against the shields, the crusaders weapons returning the favor. All was going well, drowners falling. Then one of the crusaders slipped in the gore that had begun to soak the ground underfoot. Before the men at his side could react, the drowners had begun to flow into the gap. The line fractured, crusaders falling quickly as they tried to react in to the crisis that had just manifested in the murk of the night. Men fell before finally, the crusaders began to respond, some being wounded by their fellows in the chaos, but even these men fought on gallantly.

The battle turned, the seemingly inexorable tide of drowners beginning to ebb before finally ceasing. The crusaders mopped up the last few drowners that arose, finished off in the rays of the morning sun, tending to the few wounded that had survived the night, providing burial rites to their many brothers who hadn't. The bodies of the drowners were committed to the flame, the stench of burning flesh tainting the air. The people of Outremer were a tough bunch however, returning to their business after saying prayers for the dead, asking for the Creator to guide them to the Aether, and a well-deserved afterlife.

[Jake the Dog 290]

Jakir having turned up the day before, only to find the impending attack managed to help hold back the tide. Sword near broken and soaked in blood. He turned back to the crowd after they all together burned the dead of the drowners. "I think we each deserve a drink for this." he sits down, cleaning his blade. Looking over the aftermath

[Shalashask 1112]

Svadus kneels before his fallen brothers and mutters a small prayer. Standing up, he pulls off his blood soaked helm and places it onto a grave. Sighing, he turns and heads off towards the tavern.