A Third Side, Battle at the Hallowglade

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

 

“Wit’ tah old home on Ayler Road blown tah kingdom come, I thought I might as well make tah transfer to garrison out west. No one told me they didn’t keep dur thumbs up they’s asses out here, no sir!”

 

-Kieran Fantin, Yeoman of the Army of the Westerlands, 1598

 

 

The portal crackled overhead as wisps of energy left the magi’s hand to to interfere with the magic’s continuation.

 

“Almost…”

 

In recent years, dealing with the supernatural became a common occurrence for the settlers. The hole they began digging for themselves back in 1586 was only getting deeper at this point and each layer of earth dug was alien and foreign. Perhaps one was not meant to delve so deeply into the forbidden works behind the scenes in the Isles of Axios.

 

The newly seasoned magi had let out a tired sigh as she looked at her work. As the portal dissipated and imploded on itself, she looked towards the soldiers around her rejoicing and then to the rotten corpses beneath their feet. Its was a victory for both the Army of the Westerlands and their little helper. Particles began to gather behind the magi as she tiredly observed her surroundings behind her metal visage.

 

“What’s that?” A soldier asks, pointing to the figure behind the fi’mage as it formed. The others looked in the direction of the mage who quickly stepped to the side. As she did so and turned about, an arm had reached out to grab and hold her up in the air.

 

“YOU!” A robed figure bellowed as his attention drifted towards the cliff behind them. With little hesitation for a reply from the woman, the figure tossed her off the cliff sending her flying down below - a freakish audible crack echoing in the frozen wastes of the Westerlands as she made impact down below.

 

“DIE!” The figure cackled as it looked back towards the men who began to envelop it. As it took a step back nearing the edge of the cliff, a well shot aurum arrow from Ser Rolien embeds itself into the figure’s forehead. A loud ding is heard and the figure began to tumble down the cliff. The being disintegrated into ashes which were swept up into the cold wind blowing through the fjord leaving all but a charred metal visage that laid at the side of the fallen fi’mage.

 

“Say nutin’ o’ this.” Ser Peter commented to Companion Ludwig as they looked upon the disintegrating mask after having examined it.

 

“But we…-” The Companion stopped himself before looking back towards the fallen fi’mage. “Alright.”

______________________________________________________________________________

With the body of the fallen magi collected and brought back to Bastion, a garrison was established under Watchman Milton Lowedge and Gansem Therist at the ruined tower by Mordring’s Bridge and the ruined town of the Hallowglade, the latter two of the men dozed in and out of consciousness as he struggled with his irritated wounds.

 

“I’ll keep watch, Gansem. Just rest.” Milton said in hushed words as the incessant undead groaning that continued through most nights in the Westerlands became audible once more. Just the common rabble perhaps, there was not another portal in sight. Milton stood still by the doorway as one of the “rotters” made its way aimlessly towards the temple’s doorway. With a quick thrust of his blade, Milton had put down the zombie and caught the corpse in his arms before tossing it towards the entrance way. As he did so, torch light was seen in the distance. On horseback, Companion Ludwig had returned with Prince Caius Sigismund and a group of reinforcements.

 

“KEEYAW, KEEYAW!”

 

The shouts of the rowdy soldiers attracted the attention of the nearby horde that had naturally gathered nearby in the night. Gansem stirred in his rest before his eyes shot open as a large group of soldiers held back the horde of undead trying to force themselves into the ruined tower. As the soldiers fought back the horde, others jumped out from other openings in the crumbling tower to try and distract the horde and get them to lose focus. With this tactics, the main group of soldiers cleared the bridge to the ruined tower and dispersed into the field fighting back the undead. The loud commotion allowed no ease for the soldiers whose armor became battered and whose swords began to dull and shatter in their hands. Prince Caius Sigismund laid upon a mound of earth, sending his metal plated foot towards a nearby zombie desperately trying to grab ahold of him. A ray of light touched the Prince’s face, causing him to look out towards horizon.

 

“And the sun rises..” Caius smiled as the remaining horde began to burn up under the sun. One of the soldiers reached out from the tower’s rubble to pull Caius up into the tower. A disappointed look was on the tired face of Milton Lowedge who looked to some of the soldiers in annoyance with the disturbance they had cause which indirectly lead to some of the standing garrison’s demise. As Ser Peter ventured up the barren remains of what was once the tower’s staircase, he was met with a robed figure staring down at him from the top of the tower’s eastern wall. Looking into its face no longer covered by a metal visage as it had been prior, a skull looked back at Ser Peter before leaping towards him and shoving him off of the staircase.

 

As Ludwig and Ser Hanson traveled upwards to come face to face with the powerful entity, Ludwig hurled a gold nugget towards it.

 

DING.

 

The figure looked towards the two as the gold nugget bounced off its armor plating.

“Why do you involve yourself in a war that is not your own?” The being inquired. “This has nothing to do with you. I give you one last warning to leave but you will not stand before The Master and the mis

sion goal.”

 

“You’re all the same and we’ll kill you all the same!” Ludwig countered, unsheathing his weapon to prepare for combat. As the robed figure raised its metal plated arm into the air and a portal began to form, Gansem Thersist stood among the soldiers and sent a swing of his maul towards the staircase’s support.

 

“CEASE!” The figure bellowed just before Gansem sent another strike at the staircase in response. The stone would not break however and the robed figure stood firm as the portal finished manifesting. The sounds of the undead abominations inside grew louder. As the robed figure looked below, its eyes met a waraxe being thrown towards it. Unable to react as it had just finished the portal, the axe embeds itself into its chestplate. One of the soldiers looked over to Milton in surprise as the latter’s lucky throw made the robed figure plummet down on to the floor, followed by the horde of undead that spewed from the portal. As the fighting ensued, the fallen rotten corpses kept the fallen portal mage from rising back to its feet, pinning it to the floor. Milton quickly navigated through the swarm as his comrades cleared away the undead and unsheathed his blade, sending it down towards the skeletal visage of the robed figure. Similar to before, the robed figure began to disintegrate but instead of its ashes being picked up by the cold winds and disappearing, the pile of ash remained. Yet the portal remained open…

 

After hours with their remaining equipment nearly unusable and in need of repair, the portal had lost its power and imploded, sending a shock of energy to all of those who remained too close to it. The remaining undead rabble was cleared away and few of the garrison remained. Across the frozen wastes, issued explosive rockets from Lord Rakim were lit, lighting up the dawn sky.

Albeit a victory, things would only become more complicated as the settlers of the Westerlands continued digging a deeper hole for themselves. Just what was happening, no one knew for sure. But they were not in Johannesburg anymore. That much was certain.

[DelaneyG 1279]

Milton Lowedge saw red. The portal was open, and the horde was descending upon the ruins. He fought through the crowd, sustaining a heavy wound on his side. The man approached the fallen beast, narrowing his eyes. He lost his helm in the fighting outside... his leggings were shattered and broken, and his chest piece was on its last legs.

 

The beast looked up at Milton, wheezing. The waraxe he'd thrown just moments before was embedded into the thing's chest, and for a moment, Milton thought he saw fear. The fear was replaced with the tip of his sword.

He spun then, to fight off the new wave of attackers, losing blood and energy quickly. When the portal shuddered and finally closed, the man slammed his head into the wall, falling unconscious.

 

[colovian fur 8360]

 

"Rub some aloe on that!" Caius would smugly shout, thrusting a boot into a pile of scorched zombie flesh. The light of the sun may very well have saved them that day, and the Prince was more than grateful. Praise the light!

 

He moved off to tend to Peter and continue construction of Leopold's Wall.

[Leric 1097]

A seasoned combatant of the malignant forces journeys out to visit after hearing news of such. 

[GDPR 014 48]

Siegwald of Gelt glances skyward for a moment, a frown spreading along his features as he hears the news. He'd look to the crate at his side, drawing out his pipe and lighter; and as he lit and cupped the bellowing bowl, his heat splotched face gave it a long stare. 

[cablam 477]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.