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Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 61 - Death and misery - 3 of 6
🕑 Added 2023-03-20 14:54:50 +0000 UTCOgre Tyrant: Chapter 61 - Death and misery - 3 of 6
Within less than a fraction of a second, the barren land north of the wall was enveloped within an impenetrable hemisphere of darkness. Before the soldiers atop the wall had the chance to register what was happening, they were blasted by a sudden shift in atmospheric pressure.
Just as quickly as it had appeared, the darkness receded and the towering remains of a Werrian fortress were left in its wake.
An inhuman shriek rose from the bowels of the fortress and was joined by a chorus of mournful wails.
Ephemeral spirits rose from within the fortress and raced through the air and toward the Asrusian soldiers standing upon the wall. Reaching toward the soldiers with hate burning in their eyes, the spirits released mournful keening wails that echoed through the mountain pass.
“Rest...” Wisp’s dry rasping voice cut through the wailing of the spirits, imposing an absolute silence in its wake.
As if drawn by an impossibly strong current, the spirits flooded toward Wisp and the silver lantern held aloft in his left hand.
“Shed your burdens and find the peace that was denied to you in life...” The lantern in Wisp’s hand flashed with silver light and the spirits faded into formless mist.
The silence was banished as low gurgling moans echoed off of the walls of the fortress. Shambling misshapen monstrosities spilled out from the broken gateways of the fortress and surged toward the northern wall blocking the pass.
Seemingly immune to the effects of the Empowered Ward, the malformed hordes of undead charged with single-minded abandon, surging up and over those who came before them and being climbed over by those who came after.
“LOOSE!!! LOOSE DAMN YOU!!!” The ragged cry broke the Asrusian soldiers from their stupor, jumpstarting the entire army into sudden and violent motion.
Scattered volleys fell upon the undead hordes, turning putrid pale flesh to ash. However, despite all their deformities, the undead from within the fortress proved uncannily resilient against the slayer's enchantment. Where a single arrow would have felled a Vampyr, several were needed to destroy one such abomination.
Making matters worse, armoured undead archers loosed volleys of their own from atop the fortress battlements, pressuring the Asrusians to seek cover or risk being struck down.
Asrusian siege engines groaned to life and sent boulders crashing into the walls of the displaced Werrian fortress. However, the undead standing atop their walls felt no fear and ignored the shaking and shuddering of the walls beneath their feet.
With the Asrusians forced into taking cover, the expendable undead foot soldiers surged up and over the wall.
Overrun and incapable of falling back, isolated pockets of Asrusian soldiers fought desperately to hold their positions against the unrelenting tide of undead and impede their progress over the wall.
The reserve formation of Asrusian infantry stationed behind the wall faltered under the intense onslaught but quickly rallied.
“Go!” I ordered the Thorn Heart forward, motioning toward the embattled Asrusian reserves.
The Thorn Heart wasted no time in following the command, descending the mountainside in great leaping bounds. Wasting no effort on ceremony, the Thorn Heart ploughed into the ranks of the undead like an enraged ape, flailing his arms and bludgeoning the undead with the armoured plates on his arms.
Meanwhile, undead caught underfoot quickly became infested as the Thorn Heart’s roots burrowed into their sallow sickly flesh. The infested undead were rapidly rendered immobile as roots and thorny vines ravaged their body from within and without. After only a handful of moments, the first of the infested undead began turning upon their former allies, tackling them bodily to the ground and infesting them in turn.
Despite the initially desperate fighting of the Asrusian soldiers, the finite numbers of the undead hordes proved incapable of sustaining their initial momentum and had already begun losing ground.
An Asrusian counterattack took the fight back to the wall and would have pushed further if they had the means to do so.
Infested undead threw themselves off of the wall and into the ranks of the oncoming undead with suicidal abandon, further sabotaging the attempts by the undead in retaking the wall.
Conjuring a magical bow, I used Thundering Strikes to begin a counterattack of my own against the armoured undead archers.
The combined effects of the slayer enchantment, assorted Synergies, and Thundering Strikes made every hit a lethal blow. The difficulty came in adjusting for the relative elevation and strong winds. I was a decent marksman when shooting at stationary targets, but I had almost no experience at all with accounting for environmental variances.
Minute by minute and inch by bloody inch, the forces of the undead were driven back and destroyed.
As the ground forces of the undead thinned out, the Asrusian bowmen refocused their efforts against the armoured archers.
Refusing to give ground or seek cover, the plate and mail armour of the undead archers tumbled over the battlements as their contents were destroyed and turned to ash.
Boulders launched from behind the walls of the fortress came with decreasing frequency as the Asrusian siege engine operators zeroed in on the positions of their undead counterparts.
From the beginning, the Asrusians had fought with admirable cohesion and precision. Seizing the initiative and control over the battle at every available opportunity.
In stark comparison, the undead had been nothing but a mindless mass of violently flailing limbs. There had been no strategy or coordination to anything they had done at all.
If the Enhanced Anchor hadn’t drawn the Liche’s Dimensional Breach off course, I would have doubted there had been any plan at all.
A small host of black armoured knights rushed out from the gateway of the fortress and charged into the ranks of the Briarlings. Cloaked in writhing shadows, the knights cut through the Briarlings effortlessly, leaving nothing but withered corpses and blackened broken vines in their wake.
Drawing a fresh arrow, I charged it with as much mana as it would hold and loosed it into the leader of the formation of black armoured knights.
At the last possible moment, my arrow was snatched out of the air by a sinewy tendril of shadow. However, the petrification imparted by the tendril’s touch triggered the Thundering Strike which tore apart the shadows and sent the knight crashing backward into its fellows.
With unsettling unity, the knights’ collective attention shifted from the thinning ranks of the Briarlings and toward me instead.
The momentary distraction was all the Thorn Heart needed.
Snatching the battered lead knight up in his thorny fists, the Thorn Heart heaved its arms in opposite directions and tore the knight in two.
Black gore spilled out of the mangled knight’s armour and spattered onto the ground.
Despite being torn in two, the black knight continued to struggle, battering its sword and fist ineffectually against the Thorn Heart’s stone armour while releasing a keening wail.
A deafening roar drowned out the undead’s scream as Ushu launched himself off of the eastern mountain and pounced upon the gathered undead knights. Talons crackling with Daemonic energy, Ushu dashed the knights apart with effortless ease.
Dark tendrils of shadow attempted to intercept and block Ushu’s strikes but collapsed into formless smoke upon contact, leaving the knights entirely at Ushu’s mercy.
Instead of retreating, the Thorn Heart changed targets. Casting aside the still struggling remains of the lead knight, the Thorn Heart charged the badly battered outermost wall of the Werrian fortress. Tackling the wall like an American linebacker, the vines of the Thorn Heart’s arms swelled in size and burrowed deep into the stone and mortar.
A series of loud cracking sounds echoed through the pass as great fissures spread across the fortress wall. Chunks of loose masonry tumbled freely and clattered harmlessly off of the Thorn Heart’s armour as thick thorny vines tore the wall apart from within.
A stray swipe from Ushu’s tail shattered the compromised section of the wall and sent the pieces crashing against and revealing the walls of the fortress beyond.
As the dust settled, the fallen wall revealed something else.
Standing atop the battlements of the main fortress was a solitary figure wreathed in sickly emerald light.
“LOOSE!” An asrusian officer roared.
A hail of boulders, javelins and arrows sped through the air and the breach.
A giant ghostly neon green hand appeared before the figure and blocked the incoming attacks with effortless ease while sustaining no signs of damage whatsoever.
Sickly emerald green lightning flashed from the sky and crashed into three teams of Asrusian bowmen. When the afterimages faded, scorched and blackened husks were all that remained.
The battle against the Liche had begun.
***** Jamie ~ Werrian Empire ~ Displaced Werrian Empire Capital *****
Blinded by the lightning strike, Jamie fell hard against the mountainside as someone shoved him from behind.
“GET DOWN!” Sergeant Balor roared with an unmistakable and simultaneously alien ring of fear in his otherwise deep and dependable voice.
Jamie felt a sudden chill sweep through his body. Instead of fading away, the chill only seemed to intensify with every passing moment.
Blinking away the afterimages burnt into his eyes, Jamie resisted the urge to cry out in alarm as two more arcs of lightning crashed into the opposite side of the pass. Staggering to his feet, Jamie fumbled for an arrow while searching for a target.
“DOWN!” Sergeant Balor roared again, this time appearing in Jamie’s leftmost peripheral vision as he bodily tackled Jamie to the ground.
A split instant after hitting the ground, Jamie watched in horror as a scything crescent of unearthly emerald light howled through the air and passed through Sergeant Balor’s body.
Sergeant Balor’s eyes flickered with the same emerald light and then his body grew limp, slumping over Jamie protectively even in death.
Jamie stared into his Sergeant’s dead lifeless eyes and tried not to scream in horror as what used to be Sergeant Balor stared back at him and began reaching for Jamie’s throat.
Punching at the thing’s helmet and kicking at it as best as he could, Jamie scrambled backward as fast as he was able without revealing himself above the protection of the low wall. “H-help...” Jamie choked out fearfully, too frightened to even consider taking his eyes off of the undead for even a moment.
A moaning growl from behind gave Jamie his first and only warning regarding the fate of his squad mates.
Giving the undead a vicious kick to the helm, Jamie rolled hard to his left and narrowly avoided being impaled by the head of a spear and the blade of a shortsword.
Scrambling to his feet, Jamie found himself facing off against all ten of his former squad mates.
Cries of alarm from further up the mountain let Jamie know that he wasn’t the only one fending off the reanimated remains of his fallen squad mates. It also let him know that he shouldn’t expect any help either.
Drawing his shortsword, Jamie lunged at the closest undead. Aiming for the open face of the helmet and the familiar face beneath, he felt a conflicted sense of relief when the divine blessing incinerated the undead and turned it to ash.
With every member of the punitive expeditionary force equipped with magical armour, Jamie had little choice but to give ground as the undead surged toward him.
Struck from behind, Jamie fought hard against the urge to panic as he glanced over his shoulder and found several more undead closing in behind him.
“I NEED SOME HELP!” Jamie called out desperately, hoping that someone, anyone, would be able to hear him and was in a position to render aid.
Shoving back against the undead, Jamie tried to push his way clear to the stairs. Unfortunately, one of the newly arrived undead managed to grab a hold of Jamie’s left arm just long enough to turn him about just as he reached the top of the stairs.
Off balance and unable to arrest his momentum, Jamie cried out in alarm as he pitched forward and began falling down the stairs. Tumbling down the stairs, through sheer chance alone, Jamie managed to avoid serious injury and keep a hold of his short sword.
Staggering dizzily to his feet, Jamie lost several precious seconds as he stared blankly back up the stairs and at the stumbling approach of the undead.
Gathering his wits, Jamie hurriedly sheathed his shortsword and redeemed several hundred quest reward points for a magical bow and a brace of arrows.
Fumbling with the cord binding the brace of arrows, Jamie fought hard to maintain his nerve as the undead began stalking down the stairs.
Gathering his mana for a Penetrating Shot, Jamie drew and aimed his arrow at the abdomen of the leading undead. Unable to stop himself from shaking and shivering, he prayed that the arrow would fly true and penetrate the joining seam.
Loosing the arrow, Jamie’s heart skipped a beat as the arrow flew wide, glancing off of the armour of his intended target. However, whether it was by pure chance or divine intervention, the deflected arrow struck one of the other undead in the shin.
The wounded undead staggered for just a moment before collapsing into ash and scattering its armour across the steps.
The near-mindless undead that came after tripped and stumbled over the armour causing them to knock down those in front and collectively tumble down the stairs.
Realising his danger, Jamie cursed and hurriedly staggered backward so he would not be within arm’s reach of the undead after their shortcut down the stairs.
Redeeming more points, Jamie threw several flasks of oil onto the stone walkway, scattering broken glass and cooking oil between himself and the dozen or so undead. He doubted the oil would readily catch alight but was optimistic that the slippery substance would buy him more time to thin the ranks of the undead before forcing him to retreat again.
Reaching for another arrow, Jamie cursed upon noticing the brace of arrows he had left behind and the empty state of his quiver.
If Sergeant Balor had still been alive, he would have given Jamie an earful over it.
Bringing up the quest point redemption panel again, Jamie purchased a second smaller brace of arrows and hurriedly slotted them into his quiver. All the while desperately trying to strike a balance between ignoring the approach of the undead and keeping track of their relative position.
As Jamie had hoped, the undead proved too clumsy to traverse the oily stone path without toppling over one another. Unfortunately, they had no problems whatsoever with crawling instead.
Slowly pacing backward, Jamie gathered his dwindling supply of mana and loosed several more Penetrating Shots. He destroyed three more of the undead before almost running out of mana entirely.
Shaking violently, Jamie staggered away along the path as fast as his aching legs could carry him. Teeth chattering he tried not to succumb to despair upon discovering that the limited supply of mana potions provided by the quest had already been claimed by other soldiers.
Almost out of mana, battered, and half frozen, it was all Jamie could do to keep putting one foot in front of another.
Panting heavily, Jamie could hear the undead gaining on him and knew he would not escape.
Reaching for one final arrow, Jamie turned to face his pursuers. His eyes widened in shock upon realising that the numbers of the undead had grown. If it weren’t for the desperate cries and clash of steel carried on the wind, Jamie would have believed himself to be the last living person on the mountain.
Jamie very nearly fell to his knees as the mountain shuddered beneath his feet.
“DOWN!!!” A woman’s voice cried from somewhere above and behind him.
Too exhausted to disobey, Jamie numbly fell to his knees.
If this was his end, so be it. He had done the best he could. Even if he survived, Jamie doubted he would be able to live with the guilt.
There was a sharp powerful intake of air that made it hard for Jamie to breathe.
A torrent of bright pink liquid fire streamed down from higher up the mountain, incinerating and dissolving the advancing undead, armour and all.
Unable to rise to his feet, it was all Jamie could manage to look at the smouldering remains of his squad. He was all that remained, and despite the timely rescue, Jamie sincerely doubted he would survive the battle. With no strength left to fight, no mana to use his Abilities, and a pervasive chill ever intensifying in his bones, Jamie could feel his death creeping closer with every passing moment.
“So be it...” Jamie croaked defiantly.
He had done his part and fought as best as he was able. No one could have asked more of him and found him wanting. Jamie was certain of it.
