#hillwarband

[stormdancer]

By unspoken accord the warband stuck with hand to hand weapons, Shawrun drawing both his sword and heavy dagger. As the groups were evenly matched in numbers they naturally broke out into one-to-one fights, the scythe-wielding Risen that charged toward him raising that weapon up high, then slicing downward, toward his shins – the farming impliment having a far longer reach than his sword.

Shawrun swung his blade in a sharp, quick downward sweep across his body to block the attacker’s strike, then as the foe’s curved blade twisted downward into the earth he let his weight pivot him forward. Rotating around his forward paw with a quickness that clearly surprised the decaying human, he drove an armored elbow into the skull so hard he heard the bone splinter, then followed through with a dagger strike that struck just into the hollow of the throat, then drove down through the half-emptied chest cavity, splitting the ribcage open.

When his opponent topple to the ground he took a moment to step hard onto the head, reducing the skull to splinters, as he quickly checked for other Risen arriving. But there were none, and the warband all stood above broken bodies, each likewise beheading their opponent in some way.

“Mmmph, yep, they’re quicker down here,” Gredara grumbled, rolling her shoulder, then vengefully kicking the headless body before her, the mace it had wielded falling from fleshless fingers. “You wouldn’t think a mouse dead that long could hit that hard.”

“Or have so many parts left over inside. Or have weapons that weren’t rust and dust. This whole dragon minion thing rankles. None of it makes sense,” growled Vodtour.

“That’s because it’s not normal magic,” Suller noted, holstering his axe. “They work completely outside what we know. They’re forces of nature.” He snorted, glaring at the scattered bodies. “Or maybe against nature.”

“Sense or not, we find them, fight them, kill them again, and keep killing them until they stay dead.” Shawrun said firmly. “We’ll leave the sense-making to others. Let’s move. I want to get us a bit further inland before we set up first camp. Somewhere with decent lines of sight, and cover.”

(( The Story So Far ... ))

[stormdancer]

So... I’ve finally sort of kinda picked up the virtual pen and gotten to writing on The Last Patrol of Hill Warband again. I’m embarrassed by the absurd delay, and sorry to keep people waiting so long. For whatever reason, words just would not come. Not words worth sharing anyway. So I did some editing, minor cleanup, took a break to clear my head, did some other things, and finally it’s letting me work on it again.

I love those characters so much, I need to finish their story. 

[stormdancer]

The road was littered with the bodies of the fallen Risen, a concept that brought a brief amused grin to Shawrun’s muzzle. The fact that there were disconcertingly fewer than there should have been wiped that grin away quickly. Under normal circumstance he would have suspected scavengers and other opportunists, but there were precious few of those in Orr. At least, that weren’t already dead and risen themselves.

Now and then they spotted something that still moved, or had started moving again, and they took a moment to hack it into smaller pieces. But otherwise the path remained clear, and in less than an hour they passed through the broad inner gate and into what most considered to be Orr, proper.

“You know,” Vodtour said, looking back over his shoulder as they continued along what was now a relatively open causeway. “It would be a lot more effective for them to just guard that gate, really. I mean, it’s still in perfect shape, and really defensible, but it’s just standing wide open.”

“Much as I’d like to blame the mice for that,” Gredara said, “It’s probably the dragon. Well, I mean, the dead one. Being dead does sort of throw your strategic planning for a loop.”

Volley snickered, shaking his head. “You could blame the mice too.”

“You really could,” Suller agreed, as their march took them past what must have once been a magnificent fountain, but the central tower was now cracked and tilted, the basin containing only sludge. “Current understanding has it that the dragon, well probably all the dragons, only really see most of the world through the things they’ve corrupted. But they also seem to take in their knowledge.”

(( The Story So Far... ))

[stormdancer]

(( OK, OK, OK... don’t freak out or anything, but... I wrote enough more to make a post. Or two. But just one for now. I’m so sorry for taking so long. But some days/weeks/months the words just won’t come. ))

Shawrun glanced back. “I thought that was just the Eyes and Maws? Ehr… Mouths,” he corrected.

“That’s what most people thought. But a Priory scout I know says they’ve seen the higher-functioning forces acting off intel they could only have gained by corrupting certain people.”

There were general sounds of discontent and grumbling at this idea

“Well that just means we gotta bust their heads open and make the whole thing dumber,” Gredara pronunced.

“That’s a plan I can get behind,” Vodtour said, slapping the haft of his axe.

“Works for me,” Shawrun agreed, “That’ll be our SOP on Risen, for this tour at least. Though setting them on fire remains an option if we have time. How’s the leg, Volley?”

“Still attached, thanks for asking,” the gunner grumbled. “And for now at least I’m happy about that. So no, you can’t use it for kindling. Talk to me in a few hours.”

“How about we break open some heads, instead,” Shawrun said, pointing to one side, where some half-dozen Risen humans stood close together, in the shelter of a partially collapsed small building. Three were simply rocking back and forth mindlessly, while the rest went through the motions of some ancient unknown task, for which none of the equipment or materials still existed.

“Close and engage,” he ordered, and broke into a trot, the warband spreading out and moving quickly – the motion almost immediately gaining the attention of the decaying foe, who alternately shambled or trotted toward them.

“Death, good!” croaked one, raising a sword, which seemed to bring renewed energy to those around it.

(( The story so far.. ))

[stormdancer]

“Well, we’re a force multiplier, not a front-line combat group.” He paused, and gave a chagrined chuckle, rubbing his aching neck. “As yesterday pretty clearly showed. Once we get out in the open, and as long as we can rain pain from a distance, it should work out nicely. Especially if they really do clump up. Thanks for that heads up, we’ll keep our ears up.”

“Thanks. Well, good hunting, Shawrun. Knock ‘em down and kick ‘em around.”

He laughed, and waved as he joined the warband. “Alright, Hill! Look sharp, we’re taking another run at it.”

“This time for sure, right boss?” called Gredara.

“This time for sure. If they’re growing back this fast, we probably should look for another line of work. On your claws!”

The slap of hands against weapons was sharp, and he nodded in satisfaction. “March!”

(( The story so far... ))

[stormdancer]

“You good to move, Lawren?” their leader asked. “I’d really like to get us back to base, such as it is.”

“Yessir,” the injured human in question agreed, nodding firmly, holding a hand tight against the bloody wound in his side. Shawrun found this habit humans had, of saying ‘sir’ to every superior regardless of gender, to be very strange.

“Alright then.” Arwyna moved up closer to him, looking the assembled troops over. “Legionnaire, I’ll admit I’d take it quite kindly if your warband would care to accompany us back. If they counter, it’ll probably be in a couple of hours. And… ah… I’m not sure we’d have done quite so well.”

Shawrun made a slight show of pondering the options as he looked over the scattered bodies of the Risen, then nodded. “Stronger together, isn’t that what you Pact folk say?”

“That’s one of the things we say. Alright squad, shivvy shivvy, let’s not take root here,” she said, gesturing sharply.

“Suller, Vodtour, you take flanking tail, opposite walls. Volley, Gredara, center-pack.”

The group moved slowly to accommodate the wounded, despite their protests. Shawrun found himself dragging more than he’d care to admit, and he noticed a couple of the humans were moving rather carefully as well. There were a couple of brief encounters with stragglers and Risen that simply wandered into their path and obeyed ancient instincts to attack, but without a large group or any real focus they were easily dealt with.

(( The Story So Far... ))

[stormdancer]

Huh. At some point over the weekend I broke 38,000 words on this Hill Warband story. Cool.  Thanks to @guildwars2 for making such a fun universe to write in.

[stormdancer]

The Risen continued relentlessly pressing the attack, with occasional reinforcements straggling in from behind or from the side passages, but the steady withdrawal prevented them from truly bringing their full strength to bear. While it was difficult to say anything was really a ‘mortal wound’ against magically animated long-dead bodies, the second of the Behemoths was laying on it’s side, left behind as the rest advanced.

“Come on, we’re halfway back, we’ve got this,” Shawrun snarled. He had emptied the shotgun, and the supply on his bandoleer, and was now fighting with sword and dagger. Two human Risen and something that must have once been a ***dog were working against him, when suddenly there was a sharp ‘crack’, and the head of one of the humans exploded apart.

“What the blazes?” he barked in surprise, parrying the other Risen’s sword strike, while counter striking with his dagger.

“Sniper,” Suller said simply, parrying an attack then quickly answering it with a pistol shot up through the creature’s body cavity, causing it to slump sidewise.

(( Short one today, I haven’t finished this combat scene. If I do, we’ll see more, if I don’t, we’ll move on to the follow-up. Nobody dies though, so it’s OK! Promise! ))

(( The Story So Far... ))