Morning. His men had been retrieved and were being tended to
by Vyet who was...maybe not as much a doctor as he was a tailor. Darza heard
the diagnosis with an apathetic expression dominating his face. "The ugly
one is physically fine. Maybe a bit touched in the head. He hasn't spoken a
word to anyone yet. He'd make a decent zombie. The other one is damaged. I
recommend sleeping, or he'll be feeding the zombies by nightfall. Uh, also, I
replaced our dead zombie. And one of the Middenheimers was good enough to die
too, so I raised him also."
Ugh. Darza needed soldiers, not these...things. On the plus
side, he'd seen Ned hanging about the outskirts of camp, practicing with his
weapon. He was good now. It was evident that the rats had scared him into
training himself. He would spar with the Buford until the man would wear out,
then he would find something blunt and light and attack one of the zombies at
random. Darza also noticed Vyet pacing
in circles, talking to himself. Occasionally referencing some book he'd
brought. HA! Darza needed no books. Books didn't teach him to wield a blade.
Books never saved a man from death. Books didn't make him what he is today.
Stupid little man. He was unnecessary. Claiming to have power but being
completely unable to show it. Pitiful. He had followed the humans, hoping to
poach a bit off of them, as they did from him. Give and take is a dangerous
game though. He kept his camp far away, and lit no fires. He heard whines
coming from the living at first, but they quickly subsided. Raw food? Be a man.
When the humans gathered their things and were off, he followed them, into a
vast glade. He figured it would be wiser to emerge further down, that they
wouldn't suspect him of treachery...though that is exactly what happened.
He emerged from the buildings into what must have been a
park. Trees, hills, some towers and ruined buildings. Residential zone? Bah.
The whole place reeks of the living. He noticed that this area must have been
popular. Beastmen emerged from the city straight across from him. Orcs to his
left, and...more undead to his direct right. He motioned with his sword that he
sought a truce and the female vampire acknowledged it. The humans emerged
across from his allies. This was going to be bad.
Darza's men were in position, and the orcs took position on
a cliff, and drew their bows. Clovis screamed like a madman and charged the
nearest foe he could see. A minotaur. He had a single zombie following his
lead, with the rest of the zombies providing a shield from the greenskin's
arrows. With an inhuman roar and a casual sweep of his weapon, both Clovis and
the zombie went flying.
The greenskins seemed averse to
attacking the beastmen, so some kind of sub-truce must have been made. Under
normal circumstances he would have openly allied with the beastmen, but Darza
was continually reminded of his switched banner. The orcs fletched his zombies,
and they slowly began to go down. One of them, a goblin, of all things, decided
to sprint into the zombie horde, and was followed by his beastman allies. Darza
charged one of them; some kind of lesser beastmen, and with a small motion,
flipped the thing on its back before plunging a sword in his back. He suddenly
realized that he'd been so preoccupied with his situation that he'd forgotten
any sort of tactics. His allies still far off, and his men being double-teamed.
He looked at Ned, who'd been at his side the entire time. The gravity of the
situation suddenly hit him. This would be another loss. He looked to the sky
and shouted "FLEEEEE!!!"
No comments:
Post a Comment