It started as a creeping sensation at the base of her neck, crawling its way down her spine. She knew this feeling well. The thrumming of her pulse, the thrill of a hunt. The dread of knowing her favoured enemy was nearby, quickly approaching.
Arialista turns to her friends interrupting them mid conversation.
Without waiting for a response she turns and starts to search for the delver team leaders. She spots Vimal right away, then sees Kishori, Rethé and Jalana with him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, as she comes running up, noticing her grim face.
“Undead, swarms of them. Coming from all directions,” she says. Her pulse quickens and she knows there’s no more time. “Prepare your men.”
With a last look to Vimal, she goes over to the nearest tunnel to stand by it’s opening, preparing to ambush as many as she can.
In waves they came, pouring out of the tunnels into the church-like building they had set up camp in.
She heard Reina conjure a flaming sphere which obliterated the dregs of undead attacking her group while the Freelancers hacked and stabbed at those that were still charging. Meanwhile, Naivara’s quiet elven voice called out and a loud ringing noise responded, shattering skeletons and ghouls alike, the echoes of it’s effects reverberating off the stone walls.
She may not have spells like the others but she had something they did not – a knowledge of the foes and their weaknesses. She just hoped it would help against the mob racing towards her and the Academy Knights with a mindless abandon.
Arialista tightens the grip on her swords as she dives past a zombie trying to claw at her. An arrow strikes it’s shoulder making it spin away, she doesn’t spare it a glance. Her vision has sharpened, honing in on the ghostly undead she saw fly in.
Bringing her longsword across it’s incorporeal abdomen, she slices into it and it reels back. Before it can get away she lunges forward, driving her oathblade into it’s sternum. The blade burns with a white hot light and the spectre gives a loud shriek in agony. Arialista swings her sword up and its cry comes to an end as it bursts into nothing. As the light of her sword dies down her eyes seek out her next target.
That’s when she sees it, a tall, hooded shadow with skeletal wraith hands. One moment it is 20 feet away, the next its right in front of her. Its too quick for her to pull away. The instant its hand touches her arm she feels the necrotic burn of its flesh. Arialista grimaces but once again her vision sharpens, the outlines of its shadows growing defined as she marks this creature as her next target.
She swings up with her oathblade, slashing at the dark wraith’s arm that grips her. It lets go and the momentum of her swing spins her around. “A little assistance with this one!” she calls out as she brings her silvered longsword down on it’s shoulder. She expected it to not do as much damage, but it appears to be more corporeal than the one she fought before.
