“Who are you” The warlock asked, moments before he coated himself in his trademark flames.
Shreika looked at his from under the shadowy veil covering her face, and spoke in a strange voice that was followed by a soft echoed, “I am Shreika, Servant of the void. The mistress sent me a vision about a great battle taking place in the north and as her priestess I came to investigate. I have deemed it necessary to save as many of the men within these walls as possible from the magic that their enemies use against them.”
A red streak flew past the two casters before crashing onto one of the many charred corpses littering the ground around them. The figure was the blood shaman who was fighting the great barbarian only moments before.
He stood up and cast his blind gaze towards Shreika, sniffing the air as if to pinpoint her location. She felt the deep and powerful magic filling the hound to overflowing as if some form of powerful god was feeding him energy. With a warlock on one side and the hound on the other Shreika began to panic but quelled the feeling and any other emotion she was feeling. She was a servant of the void, a blank canvas, emotions were weakness.
The hound released a bestial growl, and revealed his mouthful of fang-like teeth. “You steal essence from the Twin’s mouths. You must die.”
Before he could do anything a cacophony of horns began sounding off from the other side of the keep’s walls. The legion’s reinforcements had arrived. This alarm caused the warlock to spin round and charge though the battling soldiers toward one of the few gaps that had opened in the keeps defences.
Facing her only remaining enemy, Shreika leapt into the air black smoke forming around her and the nearby area. The thick mist blanketed both the priestess and the hound, dampening all senses.
The priestess was part of the smoke and moved effortlessly through it. She was able to easily locate the red hound as he searched for her.
Lunging from above Shreika aimed for the base of the hound’s neck pitch black magic crackling in her palm as she sought to break the connection between the hound and his two god’s.
Festus paled as the guard’s corpse stood up, and limped towards his cowering form. Each step panicked Festus more and more. A crazy smile etched itself onto his young face, the grim reaper had come. Yes that must be it, the reaper had come and decided to end his life here because he chose the cowards way out.
What the hell are you doing you idiot. Lift your ass off of the floor and face this like the man you want to be. You want to be a soldier! This is just one of the things you need to face, a challenge sent to you by some higher power. Now get yourself into gear!
Shaking himself from the crippling fear Festus stood up and wielded his green weapon and shield. When he looked at the green object in his right hand Festus could hardly recognise his own weapon. Gone was the bloodied steel that made up his weapon, and what replaced it was a bleached white material, eerily similar to bone. Etched along its surface were glowing green glyphs, which Festus had no idea how to read. The head of the weapon was made with a single long and ridiculously pointed fang, worn from a life’s worth of use. The weight that balanced his weapon had morphed into a small skull; its sadistic smile sent a chill down the warrior’s spine.
The undead corpse had stopped in its tracks the moment he had wielded his new weapon. Festus then slowly waved it from side to side and the zombie’s dead eyes followed it.
On impulse Festus called out; “Sit.” The zombie did so without a moment of hesitation. Amazed at what had happened Festus stared at his weapon once again. “I don’t care how this happened. This is so amazing!”
Turning to face the door, Festus looked back at his new minion. “Follow” he said as he pushed through the door into the maelstrom of combat that was enveloping the castle’s courtyard.