Deus Necros

The silence that followed was brief. It was not peace. It was a breath drawn before descent.

Ludwig adjusted his stance, Oathcarver still gripped tight, Durandal humming low in his left hand, as if the scythe itself knew more blood was coming. It was. The forest had not gone quiet, it had only paused. A gathering. A preparation.

From somewhere deep in the dark, the sound of claws breaking bark returned. This time, not one, but many. Dozens of limbs moving through undergrowth, brushing against trunk and stone with no regard for concealment. They did not hunt like beasts now. They marched. The rhythm of it was off, too steady, too slow. As if something was directing their advance.

Robin’s voice drifted down from the carriage roof, quieter than before. “Three more, front line. Black coats. Low and fast.”

Timur drew another blade. “We don’t have the spacing for a bottleneck. They’re trying to rush us.”

Celine had not moved. She stood by the carriage, eyes narrowed now, her face lit faintly by the nearby brushfires Ludwig had set earlier. Her gaze flicked once toward the trees, and she spoke only one word, soft and dry: “Left.”

And from the left, the next Bearowl arrived.

It broke through a wall of ferns, its beak already red with what might have been another animal. Or something worse. Its fur was clumped in places with dried gore, and there was a subtle shudder in its limbs, like muscle spasms that never ended. The harness at its chest glowed faintly, dull red, like metal still remembering flame. Steam hissed from its flanks.

It didn’t howl. It didn’t charge.

It skittered low, claws scraping stone as it swung wide toward Ludwig’s exposed side.

Ludwig turned, not quite fast enough. The creature was quicker than the last two, faster and leaner.

“Gorak!” Timur shouted.

The barbarian moved without word. His war axe came around in a tight, savage arc, the steel whistling as it split the air. The axe connected just as the Bearowl lunged. There was a crunch, not the clean break of bone, but a shearing, wrenching sound as fur and hide parted under the blow. The beast stumbled sideways, blood blooming from its midsection.

But it did not fall.

It twisted, roaring, and slammed one paw into Gorak’s side, throwing him half a step back. Only half. He did not yield more.

Ludwig closed the distance, blade reversed in hand, and drove Durandal’s edge into the side of its neck.

[-9,881]

The Bearowl shuddered, flailed, and still kept moving.

“Pretty resilient…” Ludwig muttered, almost bored.

“More!” Robin called. “Two brown ones now. Behind them!”

And immediately he began loading and shooting his crossbow bolts, though they would do little to stop the massive Bearowls, the accuracy was disgustingly perfect, each bolt shot would land right into the center of the Bearowl’s eyes.

And once he was out of bolts, Robin switched to throwable daggers that landed in between joints and ribs. Slowing the bearowl’s incredibly.

Melisande emerged from the carriage then, her hands carrying her staff. Her eyes darted once to Ludwig, then to the advancing shapes behind the trees. “We’ll be overrun by these guys, need a hand?”

“No,” Timur said, eyes scanning each silhouette beyond the flame’s edge. “We can hold them off, it isn’t the browns or the black I’m worried about, it’s the white one…So keep your mana saved until needed.”

“Alright captain,” she said as she turned to Ludwig, “Davon be careful…”

Celine, only then did she take a glance at Melisande, the later noticed it, her face slightly flushed and she went back into the carriage.

Celine returned her gaze to Ludwig, watching with bored eyes as everything was unfolding, not a word spoken so far.

More Bearowls breached the treeline. The black-furred ones were low and thin-limbed, teeth exposed and eyes darting, shifting from foe to prey without difference. But the browns, they moved like boulders, like siege weapons. Slower, yes. But the impact of each step trembled in the soles of their boots.

Their breath was louder. Their bodies thicker. One bore twin harnesses across both shoulders, hissing steam in alternating bursts like a forge bellows.

“They’re not waiting anymore,” Thomas whispered into Ludwig’s mind. “He’s releasing them all.”

“Let them come,” Ludwig replied.

Unfortunatly, Ludwig could have had the entire battlefield flipped over if he could use his Necromantic skills, but the Holy Order is too close for that, and he didn’t want to reveal his ‘darker’ side to his companions yet.

The first of the browns bellowed, a low, droning sound like a warhorn blown underwater, and began to charge. It was a couple heads taller than the black bears, slower sure, but the devastation it left after simply moving was visible for all to see.

The earth shook with its steps as it bulldozed its way through trees and brushes toward what looked like the weakest of the enemies.

The woman who had purposefully covered her presence.

Celine stepped forward now. Not rushed. Not fearful. Her hand rose. A small spark of red flickered at her fingertips.

A flash of red appeared on her right eye, and her hand blurred.

The Brown Bearowl came down with both arms like the hammers of a god, but they could’t hit anything as from the Bearowl’s point of view, Celine who looked like a single person became multiple, and his vision soon spread far too much to the left and the right, to the point it was looking at the dirt.

From Ludwig’s side however, Celine had moved her hand so fast, that she cut through the entire beast in half, splitting him down the middle. Skin, flesh, bone and even metallic harness.

Not even a drop of blood sprayed anywhere until the creature hit the ground.

Realizing that she was more than capable of protecting herself the rest of the party felt more relieved.

Gorak adjusted his grip. “I take left.”

“Right’s mine,” Ludwig said, and rolled his shoulder once. There were two more Black bears and a brown one there.

Timur chuckled. “I’ll clean the gaps.” As his side only had a couple of bears there.

Robin, above, flicked more throwing knives that glistened of a purple substance. “And I’ll sing them lullabies.”

Just as the group was preparing to clean up, the soundless flute this time echoed with a tune that penetrated bone and stone and marrow itself.

The Piper was coming.

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