Grand Duchy of Wyzkia
Ⰳⱃⰵⰴⰸⰹ Ⰴⱆⰽⰰⱅ Ⱎⱏⰹⰸⰽⰹⱁⱃ
Grędzi Dukat Wyzkor
Vis e fidelitate efflorescit
Strength blooms forth from loyalty
A battle begins
A week after the Night of the Bloody Moons
The town of Łómyśl
As his undead moved forward, a large smile appeared on Celio's face, and even perhaps some excitement. He hated them, after all. All those who claimed to be good. All those who didn't deserve the love and adoration of the common people, who thought of them as brave and heroic figures. He had hated knights for as long as he could remember, he despised them and he feared them. Just thinking about them brought with disjointed memories of confusion, fright, and running through the night, being hunted for something he couldn't even remember. It was the knights and the heroes who had turned the people against him, it had been them who had never given him a chance, who had convinced everyone that he was nothing better than vermin. And it was knights and heroes who received everyone's love unfairly. Mercenaries? You couldn't trust them either. They would sell their own mothers for a good enough price, and every time he thought about them, the Archbishop couldn't help but be filled with disgust. He had seen what mercenaries do to innocent people time and time again. And as for the Cult of Virtues...he envied them, of course. They were freer then he could ever be, they were adored and almost revered by the people... and yet of course, he couldn't help but also hate them. They merely tried to crush down Sin, without understanding it, without understanding how it worked. But for a while.. for a while he had almost left everything behind. His hate, his envy, his jealousy. But now he knew. The Cult of Virtues was a den of lies and of broken dreams, filled with conceited and arrogant people. And he would never make the mistake of hoping again.
The smile slowly disappeared however, as the necromancer realized that this battle was going to be more difficult than he had expected. He didn't expect for things to just go smoothly, but still, most people lost their bravery when faced with undead, especially with such a large number. Instead, they seemed to be able to hold their ground and to fight back, and that cultist of virtue was leading them, informing them how to better deal with the dead. And even worse perhaps, they seemed to have at least one relic, if not two. The magic of the armored woman who had just appeared was very obviously that of one, and if the attacks of the Archbishop were any indication....the black haired boy tightly gripped the shaft of his scythe in frustration. And worst of all, it looked like the paladins were more than able to handle themselves. Although slightly isolated from the others by the initial wave of enemies, the three Wyzkians formed a close circle and were fighting very well, as one would expect professional warriors to - creating another circle of permanently killed undead around them. "Their physical abilities are enhanced with magic!", Rafal shouted, but just to further answer Stefen's question, one of the hooded undead rushed forward quicker than he was able to react, and tackled him to the ground with the force one would expect a Karaki to have, despite the fact that now, with the force of the attack tacking down its hood, Stefen and the others could see that the undead in question was a young woman. Or had been. "We must attack the necromancer himself!", the red haired paladin shouted again, as his jagged blade perfectly beheaded an incoming enemy. "It doesn't matter if they aren't his undead! Unless we incapacitate him, he'll just keep bringing or making more! It's like.."The boy was interrupted by a violent punch from another of the undead, but the female paladin next to him intervened and beheaded him. "During the war...", he continued, with a somewhat strained voice. "We need to attack him! He can't both control the undead and fight us!"
"You know too much, paladin.". Celio's voice could be heard from behind the horde. "And you, slave of the Virtues! You should stick to playing your role, like a puppet on strings. You won't be leaving this place alive anyway." The necromancer giggled. "Corruption and darkness, heed my call and fester! Keep them astray, wall of mist, and never grant them the peace of those above!"
The gentle wind that had been breezing through the city suddenly came to a halt, and the very air around them seemed to stop. And then from the ground below, a dark and murky fog started to appear, enveloping the entire town and covering the light of the sun. Rafal coughed, as it was now difficult to breathe - but the undead were unabated, and the paladin barely managed to swing his sword enough in order to cut its arm. He could barely see where the two other paladins were right next to them, let alone where the others were. And in the mist, the battle continued.
