The Advance

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Aldeloll (2)

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He dodged under a clawed swipe, the grey-stained silhouette of the abominable beast shrouding over his form as the hubris of the monster led it to commit fully to its telegraphed attacks. It probably hadn't encountered much resistance in its life, unused to being denied by those it considered lesser… food.

The barghest tumbled to the muddy ground, its elongated body structure prolonging its recovery.

"Like hell I'll allow you to recover, beast!"

Aldeloll raised his sword with a howl, energy surging and facilitating the invocation of a Martial Art. The beast, sensing its imminent harm, tried to run, but Mayron was nothing if not an opportunist. Two arrows sliced through the air and embedded themselves into the creature's right limbs, confusing the synchronicity of its mobility.

The beast growled out a cry, but Aldeloll was on its head… his step trembling the ground as he executed a full-powered slash:

"Twofold — Slash of Light!"

Two crimson arcs descended simultaneously in a diligent follow of the silver laced sword.

Like a scorched knife through butter, the barghest's face was parted with little resistance, granting the creature a swift death. An exaggerated mercy it did not deserved, considering it glutted itself on the victims of those unholy dead given motion by the atrocious arts of dark sorcery.

The mercenary watched as the blood and brain matter poured out of the twice cut head of the feral monster. His face twisted as he spit to the side in disgust.

The damnable thing became traitor to the living by capitalising on the undead's atrocities.

The hulking beast lost its thrashing as any signs of life fled from its body. Aldeloll let out a tired breath, "This should be the last of these bastards," he said, straightening himself and cleaning the blood, gore, and fur off his blade.

Mayron approached his position, a frown on his face, "They don't usually wander this far out into the plains, these barghests," he leaned in to pull out his arrows from the carcass of the monster. "There must be something going on within Tob."

"Or maybe the shit cultists used monster bait to lure them here."

Mayron gave him a skeptical look, an act born from the fact that there was no such thing as monster bait... but they were dealing with the accursed necromancers of Zurrenorn here; thus, anything was possible.

Aldeloll sheathed his sword and gave a hard kick to the ribs of the dead beast, the force behind the attack shaking it. It wasn't just barghests and goblins, but a cockatrice too. The monstrous rooster was being handled by the captain and Unglaus, though such a team up wasn't necessary.

Sure the scaled monster was a troublesome foe to handle with its tendency to hop around, and spew acidic poisons and shockwaves. But a well placed slash to its long neck would be all that was needed to fell it.

Of course that was a simplification of the complex approach to taking on the failed draconics.

Wyverns, Basilisks, Cockatrices, Drakes… they were all disaster beasts capable of destroying a village by their lonesome, and very far beyond the capabilities of someone like Aldeloll, thus his estimation shouldn't be trusted.

His eyes shifted to his friend who was caressing the fur of the beast, "Sucks that we can't harvest these things for all their worth."

Aldeloll touched the fur on his shoulder guards, staining it with some of the blood on his gloves. His was just basic wolf fur, attached to his guards for aesthetics and nothing else. Barghest fur was softer and more durable, not to mention it had a weak affinity for enchantment retainment.

"Yeah but we don't have any space to put them, and we are short on time."

Zurrenorn was advancing to the town of Claysheal, they needed to get there before the lunatics could turn it into another one of their spawn grounds.

He'd heard rumors that the death cult had a stronghold in the Katze Plains, where they enslaved a significant number of the undead that spawned unassisted. Aldeloll wished the fanatical priests from the Theocracy could focus on cleansing the accursed plains instead of squandering lives in their endless disputes with the elves down Evasha.

"Oh, ya ain't heard?" Mayron glanced at him. "The bosses decided to split the gang, leavin' a lil' crew here to watch over and haul the goods. Igvarga and his workers stepped up to stay, along with a handful of city guards."

"Of course he did, that greedy coward probably agreed to this because of the exuberant coin offered."

The Duke's youngest had offered the Wandering Hearts close to a thousand gold coins for their participation in this operation, though even without the coin, Captain Stronoff would have still come to the Conclave's aid…and they would have followed him.

Still, the coin was good incentive, even if he'd only get a fraction of the payout while the rest would be used to purchase supplies for Freygrove.

Unglaus and his elites were here because the Lady was family…and the city guard needed someone to lead them without being subjected to sneers and insults.

The rest were promised fifty gold coins per party…and Klargra, despite being weaker than the rest and significantly low in number, practically threatened mayhem within E-Rantel if not hired.

The bastards were affirmation of why adventurous were bloody cancer.

The archer chuckled and gave his thigh a hearty pat. "No call to be so tough, Aldel. Life's tough out here, 'specially for ex-adventurers." The man rose, and they both began to trek forward.

Former adventurers…

Aldeloll despised a lot of them vain fucks!

"Are any of our men going to stay as well?" He asked, a frown morphing his ragged features as he looked at all the ruined homes and strewn corpses of women and children— some were half eaten with their entrails having pooled out of their chewed stomachs— laying about the place.

They couldn't leave them like this… these people needed to be buried and given rites. It was the bloody least they could do for failing to arrive here before the villagers could succumb to such horrendous violence.

He didn't trust Igvarge and his band of goons to do that, hell, he saw some of them looting the dead farmers.

"Ya want—why'd I even ask? Course ya don't," Mayron snickered. "Got anyone ya'd prefer to leave behind?"

The archer reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of jerky before shoving it down his throat as soon as he asked.

"Aye, the new recruits. The kids are out of their depth, and this has already been arduous enough as it is, any more and they'll become liable to get themselves killed."

The brutality here had already disillusioned the boys of their fantasies… he wanted them sufficiently rested and fully there when they took their first lives…human lives, that was. Though it was debatable to call death cultists humans.

Plus the boys would be more than enough to thrush Kralgra if they tried anything sneaky.

"Look at ya being all soft and carin', Aldel. Though ya know that the boys ain't gonna take the news in good cheer, yea?"

Aldeloll frowned, but it would be a lie to say that he hadn't considered it.

"Then they'll just have to brood."

The both of them erupted into raucous laughter, Mayron almost choking on the dry meat.

"You're a hard bastard, friend!"

…

There was a small crowd when he and Mayron reached the village's centre. Looking to the side, he saw that the monstrous rooster had already been brought to ruin — a bastard sword shoved into its brain to ensure true death.

Aldeloll's lips quirked into a faint smile. He didn't quite know what it was that traumatized Captain Stronoff in the past, but the man made it a priority to impress upon his men that a blade to the head was the only way to ensure certain death.

This was especially so in regards to strong monsters with an aptitude for magic or any strange abilities. Of course he and the men didn't know what he meant by strange abilities, but they took to his teachings without questions.

Mayron, like many other people, scurried over to the dead cockatrice to pluck a few of its feathers to fashion a special sort of fletching for unique arrows. Naturally, Aldeloll had reservations about the effectiveness of such arrows…

His friend returned, clutching four feathers, "Must've been an ancient skoffin, these feathers are near as tough as steel, I tell ya." Handing over one long feather, Aldeloll attempted to examine it.

The thing was the length of a short sword, but weighed like parchment. It was hard but flexible, and yet he still didn't understand how it differed from the arrows made from goose feathers.

"Aye! But how exactly does this thing make better arrows?"

His friend shrugged, "Don't know. Ain't me gonna craft 'em, now is it?" Aldeloll gave the archer a questioning look, raising a brow—a signal for his friend to explain, considering the archer was perfectly capable of fashioning his own arrows.

Mayron clarified, "It's the duty of the veteran fletcher and the guild's enchanters who handle most of the work. I just gotta supply the feathers and the coin."

The mercenary shook his head and gave back the feather, "You really need to study the bestiary more, Mayron. Not just the names and weaknesses."

The archer merely chuckled, placing the feathers in his brown leather quiver the left of his hip. It was a new thing, this quiver of his, capable of holding a dozen more arrows than his last and woven with charms that negated some of the weight and rattling.

Aldeloll ran his hand over his sheathed sword, wondering if he too should try for more magical weapons and equipment.

'Perhaps a self-sharpening scabbard, or a spell holding weapon,' he thought, but was quick to disregard the latter. Those kinds of weapons required constant casting, and the mercenary didn't know any mages, much less one who would be willing to cast magic for free.

Maybe it was time he made nice with people outside the merc group. Make deals with the local craftsmen and alchemists by supplying rare ingredients and items from dangerous monsters…

His hand brushed against the pouch of coins on his belt, and the pouch chimed with copper and silver.

…or maybe it was high time the Wandering Heart got an enchanter of their own, someone who wouldn't charge them an arm and a leg for a glowing trinket.

He gave one last look at the rooster.

He wasn't surprised that the cockatrice carcass had mystical properties, he just didn't expect something as mundane as feathers to boast significant enchantment retainment…and he was sure at the archer was most certainly being overcharged for his magic arrows.

Mayron wasn't much of a coin pincher, after all.

Nearing the small setup, the pair stepped aside a few guardsmen who were grouping the many goblin corpses and building a pyre for the carcasses ashen fate. The useless men of the fortress city clicked their tongues at them, forgetting that they had been entirely worthless during the whole battle.

Aldeloll didn't care to show them any acknowledgment, thus far, only a select few of the men from E-Rantel proved their mettle. Everyone else was just high on arrogance and useless boast.

"I guess the lady's cheer ain't a shared thing." Mayron joked, but there was no true amusement from it.

The mercenary's mouth pursed as he thought back at the fortress city. It had been one of the more better looking cities he'd seen within the nobles of Re-Estize. The people had been friendly…to some extent. And their lives showed signs of sufficient comfortability, if not excess.

Cheaper and abundant goods, along with many people who handled a myriad of crafts. No signs of slavery or corruption — something that the Duke's lands were well known for by now — and a ruler who actually gave a damn about the peasantry.

The lady was a delight to be around…soft and caring…

It took a moment to get the image of the young lass out of his head.

…honestly, it was no wonder that the residents of such a lofty place had a chip up their shoulder. For all of Aldeloll's contempt for the former adventurers, he knew that in the eyes of the lorded people, mercenary companies were little different from bandits and cheats.

In fact, there was rumoured to be a bandit group just outside the walls of E-Rantel. A sellsword group turned to banditry by the name of the Death Spreading Brigade. It was such groups that gave mercenaries a bad name.

'We could hunt them bastards down and earn coin for their worthless skulls.' He pondered, partly aware that such an attempt would end in failure.

The tent's flaps were pulled to the sides as he and Mayron stepped inside, his sharp ears picking up on the conversation taking place.

"…could get there by sun fall if we really pushed the horses hard enough." A man with hair the colour of blue — the pigment lacking the sheen of nature — said in a voice so low yet audible as he pointed toward a map they'd brought from E-Rantel, "By cutting through the uncharted path, we could retract an hour or so from the travel."

The blue haired man, Brain Unglaus, traced a line on the parchment, a route from memory by the looks of it. It made sense really, given that the man was a mercenary before his settle. He was bound to have travelled the nations somewhat.

He and Mayron came closer to the discussions, uninterrupting. Aldeloll looked at his captain who was chewing over the other man's words…suggestion?

It seemed the pair had been at it for a while, if the other men's expressions were anything to go by.

Captain Stronoff finally internalized the words and pointed, "And yet, by doing that, we won't come by the village that comes after this. We need to ensure that there aren't any potential survivors. We still don't have any information on the undead and a handle on their strength."

Unglaus frowned at those words, "We can't be wasting any more time on probabilities, Stronoff. We already know where the cultists are heading, and we've already seen the results they left in their wake. Stopping by the next village won't achieve anything save to give them time to invest in their nefarious schemes."

"Are you suggesting we abandon these villages despite there being a chance of survivors?" There was a hint of outrage within the Captain's tone, his black eyes drilling into the blunett's brown.

The latter didn't flinch away from the larger man.

"I'm suggesting we prioritize the real problem," Unglaus said, almost shouting, but he was quick to regain his calm. "Look, Stronoff, you are a good man with a good heart. I understand that you are trying to help as many people as possible, but unfortunately, such a thing is impossible in this scenario. Stopping by the next village over runs the chance of thousands that could be saved dying in Claysheal."

The pieces that indicated their party were moved in a scatter, "Dividing the men more will severely decrease our strength and increase the chances of death." There was a pause before the blue-haired man continued, "It ain't a nice thing to say, but we gotta sacrifice a few probabilities in order to limit drastic casualties." The man finished with a mixture of low and high lingo.

Mayron stepped forward, caught up on what the whole discussion was about.

"Unglaus ain't wrong, Captain. If we keep wanderin' 'round, them wicked folks'll just wreak havoc on Claysheal's people," he said. "And we ain't got a clue 'bout Zurrenorn's plans. They might pull one of their sick ceremonies, drivin' the village folks right into town for more sacrifices."

That took the wind out of the captain, as indication by his drooping shoulders.

"Quite true," Moknach chimed in, "We can always circle around after ensuring the safety of the town. By Dyne's own admission, the lands are spoiled and tainted, suggesting a larger horde's pass."

That took everyone by surprise, and despite his silence, Aldeloll found himself asking, "Those sick fucks made the village lands the way of the Katze Plains?"

That meant plant life could no longer be sustained on these villages. Hell, the place would probably become breeding grounds for undead horrors in the future.

'Damnit, what does this mean for the people of the Conclave?'

The leader of Rainbow cut through the panic before it could spiral.

"Not quite, a cleanse from a priest would probably rid the miasma and life would come back in about a month or so. And although there's taint, it is limited to the settlements in scope. A few minutes out the village and the lands are still rich and fertile."

Rather than calming down, the information was met with grimaces.

They all knew that those greedy priests from the Temples would never agree to such an enormous task without being showered in gold and platinum.

Of course, that wasn't all the temples. Some were ran by good people — like the ones in the Aindra lands. Unfortunately those people were on the other side of the kingdom.

"No point lamenting over the benevolence of the temples. I'll send word down the duchy, requesting aid for the people—at least enough until they can get back on their feet," Unglaus spoke, "For now we should focus on the upcoming battle and formulate tactics with the time permitted."

A gesture was made and a flurry of men came in and delivered some potions and consecrated water— the latter of which was bought from the water temple in E-Rantel.

It was a reminder that despite his casual demeanour, the man was ennobled and landed, not to mention he was wedded to the Duke's second daughter.

Captain Stronoff seconded the blunett's words, "Right, as Moknach's druid has said, we will be dealing with quite a number of undead, not to mention the mages of Zurrenorn. We'll need to work as one team if we ever want to come out of this the victors."

The sentiment was shared by all. This job presented a lot of risks, ones that would need the strength of a unity to overcome. It would definitely not be Aldeloll's first encounter with these unholy creatures, but it would be his first against the evils of Zurrenorn.

It took half an hour for the horses' magical trinkets to regain their effectiveness, bolstered by the mana from Unglaus and Moknach's casters. A little over 70 men rode to Claysheal there after…faces grim but determined.

==========Author's Notes==========

The Saint: And we return to Aldeloll of Freygrove. Again, I tried to give an outsider's perspective on the going ons. I tried to capture the essence of the original characters — Gazef, Brain and Moknach — the way I remember them. And yes, there's no Swords of Darkness. Dyne Woodwander is part of Rainbow.

We will be getting into the battles in the next couple chapters.

What do you guys think, don't shy away from commenting and criticising. There's also some magic or enchantment lore in there.

Bye bye!