Battlefield Encounter

Brenden slammed his sword against the Death Knight's axe and grunted as his hands were numbed by the impact. They engaged in yet another contest of strength for a few moments, each struggling to force the other back, until the muscles in his arms started to complain.

They'd been fighting for nearly five minutes and Brenden was starting to get fatigued, which was a problem. His opponent's undead stamina meant that the longer this fight went on, the more likely it would be for him to lose.

[I don't want to break out Atavism this early, but there isn't much more I can do...hmm...I guess I can try using that new ability. Wish I'd gotten a chance to test it out more before now.]

Relaxing his arms, he let the knight's axe slide along the length of his sword while stepping forward. The undead warrior had evidently expected something like this to occur, because she was already in the process of leaning back herself, gaze steady and ready for whatever he had in mind.

However, she was not prepared for him to simply drop his weapon and fasten both of his hands around hers. Brenden caught another flash of surprise in her eyes as he swept past her while activating the skill he'd somehow picked up after being accepted as the King of Thieves. Instantly, the woman's grip weakened, and he was able to pull the axe from her with apparent ease.

The Steal skill, an ability usually limited to those with rogue type classes, gave a system correction for the purposes of directly stealing things from other people. Brenden had seen it put to use quite often during his time on the streets, and he knew that real masters of it could pick a persons pockets without even getting close to them. For someone at his level of skill, providing momentary assistance while grabbing an enemy's weapon was the best he could hope for.

Before the Death Knight had a chance to recover, he spun in place, whirling his newly acquired axe with all the force he could muster. It wasn't a weapon he was particularly familiar with, but it didn't take much to simply swing the thing at an unarmed opponent. Unfortunately, the Death Knight evidently had a great deal of fighting experience, and was able to calmly select the best option in her defense.

There was a shock of impact as the axe bit home, not in the knight's chest as he intended, but into the upper portion of her left arm, nearly severing it in the process. At the same time, she reached towards him, hand glowing with an icy blue fire. Something about its appearance gave him chills, and he instinctively knew that it would cause a great deal of harm.

With how deeply embedded the axe head was, he also knew it would be hard to pull it free before she could touch him. Not to mention that he was currently off balance, with the majority of his weight thrown forward into the attack. So, he real only had one option.

Letting go of the axe, he fell under the Death Knight's outstretched hand and rolled a few times to give himself some distance. Scrabbling back to his feet, he quickly moved to rearm himself with his discarded weapon. Although it hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped, he was glad to have reduced the knight's ability to fight.

By this point, the undead warrior had removed her axe, losing the rest of her arm as she did so. A few strips of wispy blue flesh and a jagged shard of bone were the only thing now extending from beneath her armor's left pauldron. Not that the amputation seemed to be bothering her.

She whipped her axe through the air a few times, as if to test the weight of it when fighting with one arm. Despite it being nearly as tall as her, the Death Knight was able to swing it without any issue. Slinging it over one shoulder in a cocky stance, she gave him a grin. "Not bad at all. That was the first time anyone managed to disarm me in the heat of battle." She tilted her head to one side and frowned for a moment, then laughed. "First time anyone's literally disarmed me too."

She waved the stump of her left arm to prove her point.

Taking advantage of the banter to catch his breath, Brenden chuckled himself. "I've been told I have something of a disarming personality. Thankfully, it seems to be useful on the battlefield too."

This earned him another full bodied laugh. "That was terrible!" She exclaimed after a satisfied sigh, something that should have been difficult considering her anatomy or lack thereof. "But I approve. Its going to be a shame to have to kill you."

"Considering our circumstances, you should probably be worried about surviving the next few minutes. Unless of course you have someone to lend you a...hand?"

The Death Knight snorted, which was confusing in it's own right, "Now you are going too far. Besides, I don't need someone to lend me a hand."

As the words left her mouth, her stump began to glow, and very soon a ghostly blue arm began to grow from it. Grasping her weapon with both her normal and her new spectral hand, she took a fighting stance.

[Of course it wouldn't be that easy.]

Or so he thought, but he found himself utterly flabbergasted as a golden blur slammed into the Death Knight and sent her spinning through the air to collide with the castle's wall in a boneshaking impact.

"What..." He started to mutter, but his voice was quickly drowned about by the exuberant exclamations of the new arrival.

"Alright! Bull's-eye! Or is it jackpot? Huzzah, maybe? Hmm...Hey Julia, what am I supposed to say here?" The short haired, blonde woman asked, apparently unconcerned with the army of criminals that staring at her like she was some kind of bizarre animal.

"How in the hells should I know?!" Came the angry reply from a woman that was apparently working her way through the crowd. "In the first place, why did you even go this direction? Everyone else is already heading towards the enemy headquarters."

"I sensed a strong undead over here, and it was closer than the others, so I wanted to get it first. Besides, it gave me a great chance to make a dramatic entrance. Don't you think?" The woman asked in a excited voice, earning a sigh from her apparent companion.

By this point the woman, who turned out to be a cat beastman dressed in leather armor, had finally broken through the encirclement as was stalking over towards them with a thunderous expression on her face. "That's hardly an excuse..."

She trailed off as she noticed Brenden, and in that moment he realized he recognized her.

"Ah you-" She started.

"The crybaby from the cave!" He exclaimed with a laugh. "What are you doing here? I thought you died or got arrested or something."

A series of expressions ran over the cat beastman's face before finally settling on one of profound exhaustion mingled with depression. "If only..."

"She's my guide!" The other woman explained cheerily, "We've been traveling together on a secret mission." She frowned as she realized the implications of her statement, and leaned forward to whisper. "Don't tell anyone."

Brenden glanced back the literal army of people who happened to be watching this exchange and had likely heard every word, then turned back to the cat beastman. "You have my sympathies."

A roar prevented any further exchanges, as the cratered castle wall exploded into a hail of stone shards. A battered looking Death Knight landed nearby, a little unsteadily, and snarled a battle cry.

"We can catch up later," Brenden yelled while striding forth to meet the enraged warrior. "Let's beat this thing first."

"Awesome! She looks pretty strong. This is going to be fun!" The blonde woman was right behind him, sword and shield leaking small amounts of golden light in her excitement. A careworn Julia brought up the rear, looking reluctant, but following the other two into battle nonetheless.

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After the last of the skeletal archers collapsed, Mike found himself alone on the battlefield. He'd dismounted to deal with them more easily, and had been quickly surrounded by the undead knights that had been following at a distance. Almost as if they'd been tasked with responding to this exact scenario.

Nevertheless, he was able to use a few area of effect spells to reduce their number to a manageable level, before finishing off the rest. Now, he was biding his time and recovering his mana while keeping an eye on the horde of zombies that were shambling nearby.

For some reason, they didn't seem interested in attacking him, and were content with slowly shuffling past. He figured that they were probably similar to robots, in the sense they could only function within a per-determined program. If no one gave them another order, they should just keep following the last thing they were told to do until they fell apart.

He summoned a little bit of fresh water and sucked it down, a process that was more complicated than its sounds, and then sent a mental message to Red, telling the dragon to swing by and pick him up. His mount had been continuing their original task of conducting strafing runs on the enemy army. Judging from the lack of response he'd been getting, though, it seemed like their purpose here was at a end.

[If I hurry I should still be able to make it to the strike force...]

A small flicker of hostility interrupted his thoughts, and he quickly to spun to face the apparent threat. The sensation had been disturbingly reminiscent of the assassin which had killed the previous Marshal, so he was fully prepared to fight for his life.

Three people were approaching him, passing through the horde of zombies without any apparent difficulty. Two of them were older men, both looking to be in their fifties at least, although one seemed to be rather sick. Yet, it was the third member that stole his attention.

Even cloaked and hooded, Mike recognized the assassin. A quick Appraise confirmed his suspicion. She didn't appear to be hostile at the moment, but he knew first hand how quickly and lethally she could move. Keeping an eye on her, he turned his attention back to the other two, and tried to determine their identities, focusing on the healthier looking one first.

---------------------------

Faril Couthbotan

Age: 62

Race: Human

Class: Politician

Title: Royal Adviser

---------------------------

Mike blinked, momentarily confused. He'd never met the Prime Minister before, but he recognized the name from the letter he'd received after he rescued Andrea. To see him in the company of that assassin was confusing to the extreme.

Hoping to get a better idea of what was going on, he used Appraise on the last of the three.

-----------------------

Unknown

Age: ??

Race: ??

Class: ??

Title: ??

----------------------

[What the hell?]

They halted about three meters away, and the unknown person began speaking in a dry, raspy voice. "Greetings, Sir Dragonknight. Although we haven't met before, I've heard a great deal about you." The man paused, blue tinged lips grimacing in something that resembled a smile. "Judging from your facial expression, I can see you are confused about why your supposed allies are consorting with the murderer who very nearly killed you. That is understandable, but I can promise you, everyone here is interested in bringing an end to this war and the aggressor that initiated it."

Something about the way the man moved bothered Mike. Although he seemed to be reasonably mobile, there was something unnatural about the motions, almost as if his body wasn't quite responding as he desired.

"Who are you?" He asked while mentally signalling Red to hold himself nearby. If necessary, he wanted the dragon to be able to swoop in and catch them by surprise.

The strange man smiled again, displaying a mouthful of white teeth ringed by pale, bloodless gums. "That depends. This body belongs to the former King of Almir, a reasonably competent man who had the misfortune of running afoul of a certain overly ambitious noble. But, I suppose you are more interested in the one that's currently speaking to you, right?"

Mike swallowed, not really sure of what to think about this information. He noticed that the Prime Minster's face twisted momentarily in a display of grief. While such a thing could have been faked, the emotion looked so raw that it would have required a gifted actor to pull off. Turning back to the apparently talking corpse, he nodded, prompting the dead man to continue.

"Well, to make a long story short, I'm am but a small piece of a powerful mage who took advantage of the King's slow decline into death to seize control of his body."

"That doesn't explain who or what you actually are."

For the first time since he'd arrived the corpse frowned. "Ah, I suppose that's fair. After so long speaking in half truths, its hard to break the habit. I am what is known as a Soul Clone, a spiritual entity formed by breaking off a piece of someone's soul. Ordinarily, my kind are intangible and invisible, but we can possess sufficiently weakened bodies of the recently deceased. As to my originator, well...he goes by many names, but you most likely know him as the Archlich."

Mike pondered that statement for a few moments, finding it utterly unbelievable. He promptly said as much. "You expect me to believe that the most powerful figure in the Lacotian hierarchy wants to stop this invasion, and the only method he thought to use was sending some sort of ghost clone to posses a dead body? Are you crazy?"

"A little, yes. Its hard not to be after a millennia of existence, but then again that's not quite right either." The corpse returned with another disturbing grin. "To answer your question fully would require much more time than we have at the moment. I'd be willing to go into detail later, once the danger has passed. Let me summarize it all by saying that the political situation in Lacot is complicated, and despite being the ruler in name, the Archlich is bound by a number of restrictions. So, even though he wanted to prevent the Skull Lord from starting this invasion, he was rather helpless to do so."

[Another statement that's hard to buy. I can't imagine a Tier 4 mage would be so completely powerless in this situation. Much more likely, he wasn't able to act overtly without harming his image or something to that effect. If he instead sends an expendable agent to act in his stead, then he could have plausible deniability.]

"You haven't explained why the Archlich wants to stop this war in the first place. Isn't this exactly the kind of thing he's known for?" Mike asked harshly, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his voice.

"While I only have access to the memories imparted by my creator, I can surmise that he thought the project too dangerous to our interests. It would likely lead to the kind of attention we've been trying to avoid. He learned from his encounter with your predecessors and the Archmage. Lacot is powerful, but not equal to the combined might of the Inland Sea Region. All of our military expeditions up to this point have been limited for this exact reason. Of course, Kultanis didn't care about that."

When Mike cocked an eyebrow at that name, the Prime Minister helpfully supplied, "The Skull Lord, who is leading the invasion. Think of him as the Lacotian equivalent of a Grand Marshal."

"Indeed," the corpse continued. "He's talented, but a ruthlessly ambitious, even by our standards. He intends on making use of this confrontation to enhance his personal power."

"Like in the sense of enhancing his influence or seizing control of resources?"

The corpse shook his head, "No, quite literally. He's been stuck at the peak of Tier 3 for nearly a century now, and has been unable to break through. It usually requires a great deal of talent, hard work, and luck, but there exist a few shortcuts one can take."

The thought of a Tier 4 undead, one who had no compunction about murdering the populace of an entire country, was slightly concerning. If he let this continue, it could only end badly.

"So, how do you intend to stop him?" He asked, still not trusting any of the three in front of him.

"Truth be told, its a little late to actually prevent him from accomplishing his task, since he's already completed the minimum requirements for breaking through by force. I can only assume he's trying to improve his chances by massacring the rest of the living beings on this continent. However, Kultanis could activate the ritual at any point, and there would be little we could do to stop it. While we can certainly hope he fails, I suspect his efforts will succeed."

The corpse glanced back at the assassin, who had been hanging back for the duration of the conversation, a blank look on her face. "That being said, there will be a brief moment of vulnerability when he breaks through which will be ideal for striking him down. Our killer over here can handle that part. We simply need someone to push him to the point of completing his ritual early. That's where you come in. No one else on this battlefield has the strength necessary to drive him into a corner."

He paused to lend his next question some weight. "So what do you say? Shall we put an end to this fight?"