Darius notices that the undead have stopped moving towards the gates for the moment. "C'mon" he shouts to the blond warrior, and quickly dodges around the lurching zombies, heading closer to the Parliment building.
Darius makes his way through the undead throng to where the priest is tending the wounds of one of the men defending the crowd from the attacking zombies.
"Father, you said you were with the Watch!" Darius gasps, pointing towards the gates. "You have to do something, order them to let those people inside!"
Riven gives Darius a nod acknowledging his request to form closer to the Parliament building. Riven takes a look to the crowd, "Everyone to Parliament! Defend the citizens from these monstrosities!" Riven moves defensively, keeping the undead from the citizenry that is about, doing his best to keep himself between them and the undead.
"Someone get them to open the gates and let the people in!" Riven focuses on the horde infront of him and continues his efforts swinging his sword causing as much harm as possible to the undead.
The rain storms in on the crowd and Riven begins to become more aware of the claw marks across his body, 'need to start wearing my armor' he thinks to himself with a chuckle. The cuts sting with the rain fall, but he finds his reserve, he focuses on the pain as he was taught and uses it to focus his drive. 'Save the citizens' that age old lesson taught to all of the watch burning in his head. His thoughts of death are glorious in his current task, after all he will only worry when he sees the Valkyries...until then...he must prove his worth on the battlefield.
Seeing the staff fighter from the rooftops earlier lay a whole field of the creatures low with a powerful swing, Lily took her focus from her own minions, which were slowly but surely fighting a losing battle against the larger body of zombies. The path cleared by the man's own hand, she darted in with seemingly inhuman grace, pulling up beside him and staring into his eyes only inches from his face. Her visage was that of a dark angel, haunting and captivating, yet marred by some inner sadness.
"Make your way to the Parliament. I shall clear the way."
She quickly darted her glance to the downed zombies which surrounded them, noting a small crowd of them blocking the path to the building. She pushed the man out of her way and spread her outstretched fingers before her.
"Entomias incineratus!" A gout of blistering flames rolled forth from her hands, spreading out like a fan and igniting several of the lumbering horde. The creatures flailed feebly for a moment, collapsing in a stinking heap of charred flesh before them.
"Go." She nudged the man forward and made way for the building. The last of her commanded minions fell to it's bretheren and she shuddered at the psychic screams.
Hague could only carp and nod feebly. She'd locked eyes with him and the discomfort of her gaze was intense, he floundered for words. He shook the debris of a half charred corpse from his leg, rendered half to ash by her fiery spell. He switched his staff to his other hand, drew his kama and hacked away the remaining parts of the creature that still clung to him.
It seemed, in the swirling rain that the fight was fiercest to either side of the fountain, but with a last look at the woman, he wasn't about to argue. He sheathed his kama and put the pole over his back and ran for the gates, leaping the edge of the fountain and landing low on the other side, right in front of an irate looking noble--eyes intent on the woman, and from his course, moving straight across the plaza toward her. Behind him a couple of townfolk, one injured, and numerous bodies.
I nod to the bedraggled ruffian with the staff -- enough to let him know I wasn't going to cut him down, not enough to encourage vulgar displays of comradery -- and continue towards the lady who had captured my attention. I had to at least know who she was, what her name was.
Vaguely, I was aware that there were more important things I should be doing, but when I had tried to focus on them, a burst of flames or lightning or something had erupted from the woman's hands, like fireworks, or the aurora borealis, and I forgot what I was thinking about again.
No matter. Once she's safe from the zombies, then I can worry about Parliament or whatever. A chap's got to make his own priorities.
Hague tried to keep his head down. No good looking a noble in the eyes; but from his demeanor...well clearly he didn't mean the woman any harm. He shook his head. As the big noble stormed off, entranced, Hague slipped in behind and helped the injured townsman to his feet and hobbled him toward the Parliament gates. Still no sign the gate would be opened soon--but maybe there was something to getting everyone together.
-- and a small, agile man foolishly attacks with daggers -- I shout to him that daggers are useless against these zombies, but I'm not sure if he hears me over the tumult.
Breyr manages to shred the limply arm of one of the zombies, before kicking off of it and rolling safely out of reach. 'No jest! He scans quickly around for his short blade - dropped in the bustle of combat.
"I hate the undead," he says aloud. A dropped spear catches his eye, and he smiles. As the wounded zombie lumbers forward anew, Breyr lauches forward spear at the ready...the shaft shudders as it impales the zombie, and then another behind it.
The joined zombies stagger, each moving in a different direction. "Skewers anyone?"
Lily grasps Hague by the hand as the commoner is devoured by the shambling horde. "Leave him," her voice was cold as stone as she pulled the staff-wielding fighter along, beelining for the Parliament gates.
She nimbly avoided the clumsy attacks of a few of the zombies but, just as she reached the edge of the throng, one of them reached out and grabbed her fully around the shoulders, practically crushing her with it's strength. She let out a weak cry and lost her grip on Hague's hand, torn away by the undead's embrace. It leaned forward to bite her neck but a strange shimmering force appeared around her flesh, holding the creature's teeth at bay while she feebly struggled to escape, her eyes going wide with panic.
Riven looks about the battlefield. 'Good the commoners are safe', he thinks to himself, feeling his muscles ache from use...a workout honestly his body has not been used to for some time. His thoughts think of his current surrounded situation and then he spots something...someone, "Lad" (Darius) he mumbles to himself as he notices the situation to his right. The lad that had valiantly approached this area with him.
Pushing back the pain a bit more, he must use it to aid him now he knows, and Riven rushs past the group he's in (Overrun I believe it is) desperate to get to aid his companion.
He must save and protect the weak. It is the duty of every watchman.
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Thomas reaches down to hoist the herder to his knees, as a zombie attempts to feast on the tempting blood pounding through the pulsing veins.
"Let us hack a bloody swathe to those steps, then I shall give those jobsworth gate-keepers a slice of my tongue!"
He holds the head back by the hair, and brings his axe down on the spinal vertebrae, then swings the decaying stump around in a wide arc, mashing it into the faces of the surrounding foes.
"Father, you said you were with the Watch!" Darius gasps, pointing towards the gates. "You have to do something, order them to let those people inside!"
"If they haven't already, then I suspect they already have orders from some perfumed parasite! Get yourself an axe, boy! You won't get anywhere waving that rolling pin!"
A legless torso pulls itself across the cobbles, to clutch at Darius' hose. Thomas' boot stamps down on the back of it's head, snapping its teeth, and driving the nose cartilage into the brain. A further stamp drives the heel onto the knuckles, and a twist of the ankle grinds the fingerbones from the hand.
"Take this!" he shouts, handing the razor-sharp axe to Darius. "You look like you could use it. I have other weapons to hand"
He helps the herder to his feet, and holds up his gauntletted hand, with a curing incantation on his lips. A zombie lurches forward, grasping Darius in a bear-hug, unable to bring the axe to bear. Thomas' hand strikes out, and his steel-clad fingers drive into the eye-sockets, burst through the cornea, squirting jets of the rotten aqueous humour from the holes like like overripe grapes. His thumb hooks into the nasal cavity, and he clenches his fist, completing the readied spell. The healing energy pours forth, and fills the skull, spreading through the spasmodic, jerking limbs. A blinding light shines from all the wounds and orifices, then the body explodes in a shower of putrefaction; offal and faeces hanging from Darius' hair and Thomas' visor. Brains, blood, bile, lymph, the liquified remains of the dead man's last meal, his hair, dandruff, skin flakes and fingernails erupting upwards in a billowing cloud, to be caught on the wind and carried across the courtyard, into the waiting faces and open mouths of the onlookers, painting their flesh and clothing with a fine, black-brown spray of corrupted, failed mortality.
A rotten stench in his face brings Hellard to his senses. He realizes that the zombie spitted on his sword is shambling up the blade, trying to get its hands on his throat. With a shout, he spins, using the momentum to throw the zombie clear, like a track athlete throws a hammer. Then, planting his feet, he waits the zombie's relentless approach, and cleaves its skull as it comes.
A splatter of gore erupts nearby as the priest causes a zombie to explode. Between that one's powers and the girl's fire, Hellard begins to feel as if blades are inadequate to settle any real issues. Then again, if he had the matched swords that hung above the mantle at home, things might be different.
The mass of commoners are safely at the entrance of the Parliament -- and the guards, despite their low intellect, are correctly keeping them outside. A number of zombies are still up...
Adjusting the fit of his cravat to try and staunch the blood from a cut on his chin (and to cover his nose and mouth against the zombies' stench -- a messy business, killing zombies), Hellard sees that the girl is attempting to aid a fallen combatant -- the man whom he'd nodded to -- ringed by the undead. He thinks hard while moving. Hellard's interest in the girl might be their salvation. If he can hold the zombies off of her and the men she's aiding, then her attention and obviously formidable powers might be put to use in destroying this undead horde.
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Brains, blood, bile, lymph, the liquified remains of the dead man's last meal, his hair, dandruff, skin flakes and fingernails erupting upwards in a billowing cloud, to be caught on the wind and carried across the courtyard, into the waiting faces and open mouths of the onlookers, painting their flesh and clothing with a fine, black-brown spray of corrupted, failed mortality.
Bleurgh!
Pfft!Pfft!
Pftheh! Theh! Pffft!
Oooaargh!
Darius shuddered as he was showered in gore from the ruptured zombie. He was pushed back a few steps from the thing's final convulsions. Tossing aside the useless club, Darius felt a sharp pain in his left side where the thing's unwholesome embrace had cracked his ribs.
There was no time to rest, two more of the undead stepped up to replace the one the Priest's incantation had destroyed. Darius met them swinging the unfamiliar axe as best he could. As much a danger to anyone close to him as to the walking corpses, Darius replaced skill with as much strength as he could summon.
Swinging the axe wildly, he grunted with each blow "..never...leave...rapier...home...again..." When he was finished he was covered in more of the rotting black ichor and the zombie lay on the cobblestones in several pieces.
Undead topple over at the rush of the burly northerner, and Breyr seizes the moment, leaping toward his fallen short blade, hand outstretched, sliding through muddy puddle. He rolls and comes to his feet in wash of water and flashing steel. He hews to his left and to his right, chopping into fallen zombies first and then trying to follow the northerner.
Rain and wind buffet the combatants and lend a sickly sheen over the grisly undead. "Get me to that gate, I'll open it myself!" Even as he says it, he imagines a guardsman's arrow putting an end to any such foolishness. 'This day seems my day for foolish decisions.'
Pushing back the pain a bit more, he must use it to aid him now he knows, and Riven rushs past the group he's in desperate to get to aid his companion.
Looking up from the hacked corpse, Darius sees the large warrior moving towards him trough the melee. Although his arms burned from unaccustomed weight of the axe, he swung at the closest foe and tried to make his way to the tall warrior.
Hellard almost checks his course at the last minute. Are these fools actually trying to open the Parliament building to commoners? The priest and the small man seem determined to do so. The scruffy little ruffian, well, that could maybe be expected from one of his ilk. But the priest? He should know better!
Then again... there are zombies still moving, and the girl's attention is still turned to the cluster, rather than the bigger picture.
If not for that first, haunting glance of her, Hellard would never have abandoned the dictates of twenty years of gracuious upbringing and hundreds of years of good breeding. But the look on her face... he makes his decision. The Parliament's guards must keep the commoners out, for the time being, all by themselves. If worse comes to worse, surely there are others of the Quality inside who can mitigate matters. They might question, after the fact, whether the zombies out here were indeed as great a menace as Hellard now feels them to be... but if they do, a duel or two will quickly settle that. Certainly, Hellard feels less concern over some sniveling character assassin than he does over the walking dead.
Decision made, he moves quickly to the press around the man he'd nodded to. Not daring to put his hand on the girl's shoulder, he instead puts his head closer to hers, to make sure she hears over the struggle. "I'll take care of this man -- my life on it. But you have got to destroy the other ones still walking free!"
Hellard just hopes he's equal to the task.
Lily kicks herself free of the zombie's embrace as Hellard approaches and makes his declaration to her. Her brow furrows and she snarls, turning to face the approaching mob. With her back to the handful of zombies harassing Hague and the nobleman, she again stretches her hands out, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. She lets the zombies get closer, practically on top of her, wanting to get as many as possible with the next spell... because there was no telling how long she could maintain her senses at this rate.
Sure enough, they came upon her, rushing forward with reckless abandon. When the closest was within arms reach, Lily let loose a primal scream and sent another torrent of flame blasting forth, incinerating a veritable swarm of them. Her hands dropped to her side, seeing that none survived her assault. Her mind reeled with dark thoughts and sinister influence, but she closed her eyes again and took a breath.
"You won't have me today, demons." She murmured under her breath. Clearly fatigued, she staggered back a step and turned to see that Hague and the nobleman had done an adequate job of fending off the ones behind her. She managed a weak smile for the first time in months.
Riven reaches the Lad (Darius), "Hahaha, you having fun yet?"
Riven pivets in a 360 swinging his weapon out behind him cleaving a trailing zombie, it's lifeless face even pausing trying to understand why it's legs are no longer moving forward...then it drops in two.
"We are winning Lad, but we can't keep this up much longer. The dead know not pain nor fatigue." Riven looks at the Parliament area, "We stand a better chance if we gather this band of saviors together to fight off the remaining. Agreed?"
Riven feels a claw across his back and remembers again how close the dead are, he turns again bringing his blade low severing one of the legs of the creature. It falls onto the upper torso of the one cleaved in two as it attempts to crawl its way to Riven. As the weapon swings up to it's high point Riven flips the weapon around and his grip, blade pointed down, and buries it in the torso of the two Undead now stacked on top of one another. They convulse and Riven twists his blade making the convulsions stop.
Riven pulls his blade free, "What say you lad?"
Darius fends off the attacks of another undead, hacking off its arm at the elbow, as the warrior dispatches two at once.
Riven pulls his blade free, "What say you lad?"
"I'm Darius and I say lead the way, I will be right behind you." He manages to land another desperate blow with the axe, cleaving the things skull crossways just above the ears. The thing takes two more steps before it dies. "Does not being killed yet count as having fun?"
"Riven Golarsson. But lets save the introductions for the mead hall after this!" Following the priest to Parliament Riven takes in the scene again...'we are doing well...but they seem to focus on Parliament'.
Turning to the priest, "Why are they after Parliament?"
Riven turns back around to let the priest deal with the gaurds, he plants his feet firmly and ready's for the dead to approach. Riven turns to Darius his face grim, "Well Darius seems everything has been a tease upto this point! Could be time for the greatest adventure after all!" His face changes to amusement, "HAHAHAHAHAHHA!" Looking to the dead approaching the steps, "Well come on then."
Riven turns to Darius his face grim, "Well Darius seems everything has been a tease upto this point! Could be time for the greatest adventure after all!" His face changes to amusement, "HAHAHAHAHAHHA!" Looking to the dead approaching the steps, "Well come on then."
Darius steps up next to Riven. The warrior's brash confidence rubbing off on him. The axe was heavy and awkward in his grasp and the pouring rain made the footing on the stone steps of the Parliament building treacherous, but Darius felt like the next few minutes would be a turning point. If they could survive the next few minutes, then everything would turn out alright.
As he awaits the approach of the undead, a sudden thought occurs to him, "Somebody wants the Parliament gates to be opened!" Darius turns and scans the small crowd of people outside the gates for anything that seems out of place.
Hague grinds his teeth as he's pulled to his feet, the arm beneath him having folded badly under him with a snap as the mass of zombies had crushed him to the ground. He held it tenderly to his ribs in an unnatural position. Blood seeped through his stained sleeve. Everywhere he was covered in bites and clawmarks, nose ruined--though he couldn't tell how badly, he could taste the blood running into his mouth.
It was the noble who helped him to his feet, and with a dull horror that radiated through his pain he realized the mess he was making of the man's clothes--certainly more expense than his life was worth. He looked away toward the zombies advancing toward the gate. The bizarre woman was in the crowd too, from the stench of burned rotten flesh and copius wet smoke, and from the sound of her snarling. He reached up to his kama and his eyes snapped open, squirting a fresh rivulet of blood down from the bitemark below his brow. He'd had it in hand when he was down in the fighting. It had to be in there somewhere. Agonized he stooped over and began feeling through the blood and mud, probing for the weapon with his one working hand.
Darius meets the undead mob a few steps behind Riven and cleaves into the first zombie's chest with a wild swing of the axe. Lodged in the thing's spine and ribcage, the axe is wrenched out of his grip as it falls back down the slippery stairway.
Another undead quickly closes in on Darius. Striking a glancing blow with its fist, it opens a nasty gash on Darius' forehead. Although he is reluctant to use up one of only seven arcane bullets, Darius draws his father's pistol. "No use saving them if I'm dead!" he thinks. Aiming square at the advancing corpse's chest, he pulls the trigger.
*click*
The pistol misfires, the powder soaked in the pouring rainstorm.
The undead grabs Darius around the throat with both hands and begins to choke the life out of him. The dagger somehow in his other hand, Darius again feels the strange connection between himself, the dagger and the undead. The dagger plunges into the zombie's neck, almost as if it had a will of its own. As green fire erupts from the eyes and mouth of the corpse, Darius feels the energy being sucked out of his body through the dagger.
The eyeless corpse collapses to the steps. Darius sways and then follows it to the ground a second later, dagger and pistol both sliding out of his numb fingers. Darius feels cool stone of the step on his cheek for a moment and smiles "That was not fun..." he defiantly thinks at Riven's back and smiles again before blood runs into his eyes and his vision goes dark...
A green flash catches Riven's eye's from his peripheal vision. He takes a quick glance to see Darius fall to the steps..."LAD!" With a new found rage Riven swings at an approaching zombie cleaving down the middle.
Riven quickly moves to stand over Darius to protect him, "PRIEST!! I NEED YOU!"
Riven stands ready focusing on defensive more than offense...'I can't let this boy die' he thinks to himself.
Riven nods to the priest, "Thank you".
Riven steps off of Darius placing himself infront of him still doing his best to protect the lad from any harm.
Gritting his teeth, Hellard forces himself to ignore the sorry state of his clothes -- although he well knows that this may become a MAJOR issue if the doors open and he's forced to deal with any of other of the Quality -- he'll receive (well-merited) snide comments, and almost certainly be forced into a fatal duel... and killing zombies has left him with little taste to kill any men this day.
The zombie-buried man has been rescued, with mystical assistance from the priest -- but that fool is still screaming for the Parliament doors to be opened, despite the fact that the fight is all but won -- the girl's magic has destroyed rank upon rank of the monstrosities, although it seemed to hurt her grievously to do so.
The Northlander and some of the other commoners-turned-heroes seem tired, but still fighting... and the priest seems to have healed one a bit... Hellard knows he should take command of the mopping-up process, but he is torn; the girl's efforts seem to have left her in bad shape. Helping her to her feet with as much courtliness as he can muster despite the state of his attire, Hellard says quickly, "M'lady, your assistance has saved all these folk in the square. As a token of my indebtedness and respect, I give you my name: Hellard of House Byzenkampf, and I give you leave to call upon me as an equal henceforth. This is not lightly done. If you need further assistance, I shall give it. If not, give me your leave to go, and I'll lead the last bit of fighting left against these undead vermin."
Lily turned to glance at Hellard, her dark eyes exhibiting both exhaustion and curiosity.
"Why is this one helping me? What does he want?"
Her fatigue permits her to relent to Hellard's attentions, gladly accepting being pulled back from the thick of battle. When he addresses her, her eyebows quirk in a mix of confusion and surprise. "I... thank you," she swallowed, surveying the dwindling horde. "I will be fine. Finish what has been started. I am sorry I could not be of more use. Any further use of my abilities could be... hazardous... to everyone." Rivulets of rainwater streamed black hair onto her fair skin, marred as it is by gore and dirt as she looks away, clearly distracted by something unseen.
The lithe woman regains her footing and gestures for Hellard to return to the fray. Her eyes swept over the courtyard and even into the distance, surveying for threats that may have gone unnoticed by the others in their agitated state. The voices had not stopped yet. This was not over.
"My AXE!...err I mean, "Never fear! Aid is at hand!"
Darius wakes up coughing blood and rainwater as the Priest's incantation mystically heals his wounds. The gash on his forehead is closed but still swollen and tender and his ribs still ache as he sits up. "Thank you, father." he chokes out through a throat still sore from the undead's grasp.
Darius quickly gathers up his dagger and pistol but the fight is all but over by the time he regains his feet. Darius closes his eyes for a moment to try and quell a fit of dizzyness and before he knows whats happening they are being led into the Parliament building to an elegant waiting room with a large table.
Darius quickly sits in the nearest chair and waits for the latest bout of dizzyness to pass. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Darius helps himself to a cup of the tea and a pastry.
Riven looks about the finely room they all have been gathered in. He moves over to Darius and places a hand on his shoulder, "You fought well lad. How do your wounds feel?"
Riven turns to the priest who healed Darius, "Thank you again, I am Riven Golarsson...and since we are all stranded within this room perhaps you have some bandaging for my wounds?"