They fought their way towards the sound of Goruk's bellowing voice, and after clearing the last skeletons blocking them, Femi eyes felled on Goruk. The big Krag was truly a sight to behold. His two-headed axe drenched in flames, carved a blazing trail through the ranks of the enemy, cleaving through both bone and evil spirit with equal fury. Whilst rally his men forward to stop the undead advance.
After dispatching yet another foe Goruk turned searching for the next enemy. That was when, his gaze fell on them. His eyes widened at the sight of the bandaged Ratman running in Varga's wake.
"Varga! What is this?" Goruk roared, smashing two skeletons aside with a single sweep. "Why did you abandon your flank? You have created a mess of things!"
"I know!" Varga yelled back, her own axe beheading a skeleton that lunged too close. "And I am ready to face my punishment after we save the camp from being overrun!"
Femi, for his part, was too busy taking in the scene to dwell on the conversation. Their entire side of the battlefield was surrounded, pressed from the front and now the exposed side, with more clattering shapes emerging from the tree line. A cold dread trickled down his spine. Where did that juju priest get this many bodies? he wondered. Is there a crematory close by? A mass dumping ground? Or heavens forbid an Evil Forest?
Distracted by the thought, Femi was unable to see the Damned Soul that had noticed a vulnerable target. It streaked toward him, filled with malice. Varga moved to intercept, her mouth opening in a warning shout, but Goruk was faster. He bellowed a war cry that seemed to shake the very air and swung his massive axe in a low, fiery slash. The weapon, burning with righteous flames that were the antithesis of such unholy life, caught the spirit head-on. It unmade the creature in a burst of ectoplasmic flame.
Femi blinked, the heat of the blast washing over him, his heart beating loudly. "Wait oo, did I nearly meet maker…why are the dead so eager to fight with living?" he shouted aloud. "What is the point? Who offended them so grievously that they must trouble the rest of us?"
Goruk just grunted, too focused on the relentless battle to process the ratman's query.
"Arieus is ahead! The line is reforming around him! We push them back to the entrance, now!"
"YAAAAAAH!" the surrounding krags roared in affirmation.
The three of them, along with the Krags around them, began to push forward. Varga and Goruk wreaked havoc on the skeletons before them. Femi, his mind whirring with the seed of a plan, decided to save his energy and act as support. Creating openings for the heavier warriors with simple feints and tricks, while dispatching the few that were on their last leg on the way.
They finally broke through the worst of the press to where Arieus stood. The War Chief's massive cleaver left trails in the air as he systematically destroyed the remaining Damned Souls. His eyes, cold and assessing, swept over them, taking in Goruk, the disobedient Varga, and her 'pet', the brown-furred Ratman now standing with a strange confidence.
"Varga," his voice was stern. "You disobeyed your War Chief's orders during combat. You know the consequence."
"I know," she said, holding his gaze.
His eyes narrowed at her, but then he nodded. "Very well. Report."
"The ward is secure, and the breach is contained," Varga began. "We were able to push the undead back into the main fray. I would also add that the ratling fought bravely for the camp War-Chief."
Arieus's steely gaze locked onto Femi as he took in the Ratling changes. His slightly increased height, an even more thick looking Fur. Especially, surrounding his neck giving the impression of a mane. The storm-ringed eye that seemed to hold a tiny, captured tempest, and finally the bloody bandages that spoke of deep wounds emphasizing that he had really been injured before the battle had begun, and yet. Something flashed in Arieus's eyes, a spark of recognition, as if a long-held puzzle piece had just clicked into place.
"Now I see," he muttered to himself.
Femi for his part stayed quiet. From the conversation, it was clear Varga was in deep trouble because of him and might receive a serious punishment for it. A pang of guilt shot through him, but it was quickly subsumed by the urgency of the situation.
He couldn't help but point his free hand, with one claw extended, at the dense ranks of skeletons that still stood between them and the silent, observing juju priest.
"Great War Chief, the guests have become too rowdy" Femi said, his voice carrying a strange certainty that Varga found was utterly out of place for him. "If you allow it, I may have a way to show them the door out. Permanently."
"Femi, don't…" Varga tried to stop him. One did not lightly propose plans to Arieus in the midst of battle.
Arieus's head tilted. "Interesting. It seems your balls have grown along with the rest of you, ratling." Something of a smile touched his lips. "But I am interested in this plan a near-dead rat has come up with. Speak quickly."
Femi's grin was sharp, his whiskers twitching. He stood straighter, the bandages pulling tight across his chest.
"You won't be disappointed."
-----
The Krag line, invigorated by their War Chief's presence, surged forward. Becoming a green tide of righteous fury crashing against the horde of bone.
Groups of skeletons, tried to form a shield wall against them. Yet, Goruk and his men didn't break their stride. The massive Krag dropped his shoulder low and slammed into their formation. Wooden shields splintered into many fragments, leaving the skeletons behind exposed, and before they could recover.
Goruk was now within their ranks.
His two-headed axe swept out, shattering spines, ribs and femurs and sending clouds of bone shards into the frosty air.
A powerful stroke came down on a skull with the finality of a falling keke(tricycle), crushing it to powder and leaving a small, smoldering crater of snow. He moved with a shocking, terrible grace for his size, each swing a masterclass in controlled, yet overwhelming violence.
His men, howling their own battle cries, rushed in to batter the disoriented undead. This relentless press gave an opening for Varga and her own small group to flank them, providing a mobile defense for Goruk's sides while also, crucially, covering the limping form of Femi who had begun to put his plan into motion.
As those two fought together their combat chemistry began to show. Where Goruk was a sledgehammer battering every foe away. Varga flowed around the big attacks, exploiting the gaps Goruk's fury created.
As they fought a large group of skeletons made a charge at Goruk's exposed back; but Varga's axe severed the large lead creature's sword-arm at the elbow, while her men blocked the others, their bodies forming an impassable wall. As the creature she faced staggered, she spun and slammed her axe handle into its jaw, snapping its head back with a sickening crack before a final, clean bash through its eye socket shattered the skull into pieces.
Arieus, with the bulk of the Krag warriors at his back, slammed into the skeletons Varga's group was fighting, creating a pincer that ground the undead between them. The maneuver opened a small gap in the enemy lines, an opportunity most of the warriors, locked in their own life and death struggles, would never notice.
But Femi's eyes were locked on it. He looked past the fray, his gaze pinpointing the silent, robed figure who had orchestrated all this carnage.
"Well, then," he muttered, flexing his clawed hands. "I am rested enough. Time to finish this." He shook his bandaged body.
"Village people, I beg all of you," he announced, his voice suddenly loud and clear. "Don't interfere, or I go swear for una." He let the threat hang in the air for a second before he moved.
He dropped the femur he was holding, took a deep breath, then took a step, then another and another. His pronounced limp seemed to vanish, replaced with an abnormal level of grace as he began to run.
"He is moving!" Varga muttered, her eyes narrowing. He was already weaving through the thick of combat with a speed and agility he hadn't shown before.
He met the skeletons and evaded them, his body contorting around sword swings and spear thrusts with preposterous, almost liquid agility. He moved like cooking smoke on a windy day, slipping between grasping bony fingers and scything blades without breaking stride.
Almost there.
He was almost clear, the necromancer now only twenty yards away and fully in his sights. When the snow before him trembled. A massive hand of fused bone and packed snow erupted from the ground directly in his path, followed by a second. A giant skeleton, thrice the height of a Krag, hauled itself out. Its ribcage was large enough to hold a small bear, and its eye sockets burned with a cold malice the lesser skeletons lacked.
The giant wielded a sword that seemed to be crafted from the entire spine of some massive beast, and it seemed egger to use it. As it brought the spine-sword down in a blow that would have split a boulder in two. Yet, Femi didn't budge.
"Let's go."
In a move that seemed illogical. Femi darted inside the fall of the swing right as the massive blade smashed into the ground, sending a plume of snow and dirt into the air. When the snow cleared it revealed that Femi was already running up the creature's arm, his feet's sharp claws finding purchase on the bare bone as he rushed upward.
"What is he doing?" Varga breathed out, watching as Femi ran up the giant Skeleton arm.
Arieus came to stand beside her, his cleaver resting on his shoulder, his face that of calm and deep understanding as the fierce battle continued around them.
"Remain calm Varga, one of reason I agreed to the rat's plan," Arieus stated simply, "is because I can kill the necromancer easily, the moment I reach him. So it does not matter if your pet survives his mad dash or not."
Varga glared at him.
"But," Arieus continued, his eyes never leaving Femi, "that was not the only reason. For you see, I noticed something in him the moment he stood before me. Something I needed to confirm."
"What did you see? Is it… kur…."
"He is not relying on Kuros, Truth-seeker," the War Chief interrupted. "Look at his movements. The flow. The instinct. This is something else entirely."
The giant skeleton, enraged by the pest on its arm, swiped at its own shoulder, but Femi had already leaped, flipping backwards to land lightly on the ground behind it. He stood before the behemoth, seemingly calm. The giant swung again; a furious horizontal sweep meant to cut him in half. Femi simply leaned backwards, his spine and body bending at an inhuman angle, the massive blade whistling inches from his chest. He moved back upright as if pulled by a string.
"Listen well," Arieus said, his eyes fixed on the one-sided battle. " You don't seem to understand. This is not the power of Kuros, Varga."
Varga watched as Femi evaded crushing blows with minimal, effortless shifts. Every move had a certain intent to it as if he was toying with the giant.
No
Varga looked closer, following his movements with her emerald eyes. Femi wasn't toying with the giant. No, He was trying to gauge its speed and full mobility. A strange serene focus had settled over his features as if he was studying it.
"You've seen this power before…" Arieus continued.
Both their eyes were fixed on Femi's battle. The giant stomped forward, its massive foot rising to crush him into the earth. Yet Femi didn't retreat or dodge. He took a step forward and then simply… disappeared.
Varga gasped. He hadn't vanished; he had moved with such speed that her eyes simply failed to track him. He reappeared above the giant skeleton, hanging in the air beneath the indifferent twin moons as if floating. His now-grey fur seemed to absorb the moonlight, and his storm-ringed eye glowed with an intense light.
"This power, Varga, is rare even among his kind, and almost unseen amongst the old race," Arieus finished, his voice heavy with certainty.
Femi, suspended in that silent, weightless moment, unaware of his allies' discussion, felt a strange euphoric sensation. The searing pain in his side was now a distant memory. The cold air, the noise of battle, the cries of the dead and dying all faded to a dull tune. The world felt slow. Peaceful. Clear.
Badam. Badam.
So free...I think...I think... I am beginning to like this floating in the air nonsense?
He sighed.
"Well then," he whispered "Time to fall."
"Heavy."
Gravity reclaimed him with violent intent. He came crashing down, like a grey comet streaking toward the giant skeleton. The air screamed in his ears. His hands were empty, but as he fell, they clenched into a single, hardened fist held high above his head. The giant could do nothing but watch as this creature descended with a force and pressure it could not comprehend.
"Varga," Arieus said, his voice flat and final. "Your little ratling is what we call a Risen Mutant."
CRACK-BOOM!
Femi's fist impacted the skeleton's skull. The sound was similar to a miniature thunderclap. The giant's head and entire upper torso exploded into a cloud of fine white powder. The leg bones, bereft of command, stood for a moment, then crumbled into a heap.
Femi landed hard on the pile of dust, skidding to a halt on one knee. He rose slowly, breathing heavily, his grey fur now matted with bone dust and sweat. He ignored the dissolving remains of his colossal foe. His mismatched eyes fixed solely on the necromancer, who now had no champions left between them.
Upon that realization, a slow dangerous smile spread across Femi face.
He took limping steps forward, his injury seeming to return now that the adrenaline was fading.
"Hello there," Femi said cheerfully. "Mister Juju Priest." He gave a slight, mocking greeting. "I am glad to finally meet face to face."
The necromancer didn't move. No emotion could be seen within the deep hood of the cloak. The battlefield had fallen silent, every Krag and every remaining skeleton pausing to witness the confrontation.
The necromancer's head tilted slightly.
'Well then,' a dry, rasping voice, like stones grinding together, emanated from the shadows of the hood. 'Shall we?'