A New Dawn - Prologue. Winter Moorehound

[lorddevi]

They looked like ants, the little people down below. A long lush field with only a couple hills here - those being occupied by the spitting cobras of death. The invention of gunpowder certainly did dramatically affect the way wars were fought. Those massive beasts called bombards stole the kill counts from the infantry and calvary alike, but neither could deny their love of them. BOOM! Another volley of rocks is fired from the hills down upon the advancing infantry Collins. A bright rider frowns as he sees another swath of his men blown into atoms. A tall valiant figure mounted on that horse, his thick amour brightly polished to reflect the sun, his stallion armored in a similar manner. They looked like figures out of myth, but then again Zevic Lord's tended to do that. Awe the little people with the splendor. "A hierarchal government consisting of nothing but Paladins. They think themselves so righteous, so immune to temptation" thought a man, if you could call it that, a thousand miles away peering through the eyes of his undead servant raven.

"My Lord, our troops are going to be too far depleted by those bombards if we don't move now." points out the regal figure to his commander, his Duke. "Yes, I quite agree Baron. Order the bombards to halt fire and the infantry to drop arbelests and advance." With a nod the tiny little Baron galloped off issuing orders for the bombards to cease fire and headed for the infantry line. "Drop arms and draw pikes!"

"Hrm yes.. I think this man's pride is pure, more so than his righteousness." pondered the man a thousand miles away, "Good work Sanktet, you choose well. This knight will serve us well". With a bow the mummy said nothing, not able to feel pleasure for his success. He knew this Xevic Lord would serve his Lord's purposes perfectly.

"Charge!" The troops didn't hesitate to follow their Baron's commands. They had had enough of the bombards and were anxious to get into the mix of it. They were outnumbered by their Arexian foes, but these particular Xevics wore splint mail and were a private pride of the Baron - More money spent on training and amour. The sheer numbers of Arexians were intimidating though. Thunder sounded beneath the raven as the two infantry columns charged each other across the battlefield. The ant like Arexians with their drums and pikes marching at a steady pace vs the equality punitive Xevics charging at a more brisk pace, fueled by the fires of righteousness. The righteous need no drums.

With the clash of both armies, five thousand versus two, a large dust cloud raised into the air obscuring the bloody scene from all. As the battle raged on and the dust turned red little ants could be seen fleeing the commotion, Arexian ants. As the dust calmed down the first sites through the dust were the gleaming mounted knights. The Duke, the Baron and their entourage, next the infantry. All giving chase the fleeing Arexians.

"Hrmm, yes.. Capable as well and his troops, very well trained. I think it's time for you to have a.. revelation Mr. Moorehound." thought the distant 'man'." with little more than a gesture he knew this incorruptible man would be his. He could see how the theater below his creature would turn out. Yes, it was all so simple for a creature with his experience.

"What's that?!" shouted Baron Moorehound. "Over there!" as he points to one of the few hills on the field. For reinforcements were showing up, an Arexian light company by the looks of it. "If we go now we can route them too, they already look ready to flee!", and without consulting his Duke he led the charge to the hill. "Raaaaa! For the Duke!" cried out the troops, their victory giving them a sense of indestructibility, for God was with them today. On wards went the infantry, on wards went the Baron and his knights.. and followed behind was the Duke and his knights, for there was glory to be had.

Pikes smashed aside pikes as jugulars were torn out of necks. In the midst of the battle with the new contingent though something otherworldly began to happen. For each Arexian killed, another appeared. "Somethings wrong.." observed Winter as he killed another two soldiers, and two more appeared a couple feet away. "Baron!! We're surrounded! You incorrigible man! You should have waited and regrouped if you weren't going to ask my permission to charge!" yelled the Duke so his Baron could hear his beratement. Silence came from the mouth of Winter as he heard his Lord.. He knew he was wrong to have charged and with a look around he knew it was true.. Somehow.. they had gotten surrounded. A tear appeared in his eyes for he knew this battle was going to be lost, and it was going to be a devastating loss.. His duke was here. He had failed his Duke, and with this realization two things started to happen. He began to fight with a renewed vigor, his Duke mustn't die. Especially for such a petty land dispute. Twice as many enemy infantry began were dieing around him the more he realized he was a cornered creature and it wasn't just his life at stake. That and something odd was happening to the enemy infantry... They were leering at him.. Not because of their battle rage or hatred.. no. They were deformed he just realized. Strange how they didn't look like that before. On the battle raged until it was just the Duke, the Baron and only thirty knights left. They were defeated but they would go down fighting.

"They're dead!" shouted one of the Duke's knights in the midst of the battle. "Odd thing to say," thought the Baron, "some were dead.. but they weren't winning at all". No! No they were dead, the skin was falling off the enemy infantry in chunks revealing bone and long dead cartilage. They were undead! Suddenly it was clear why the troops were leering, the flesh pulled tight across their faces it was the only expression most of them were capable of. "We've been tricked!" Yelled the Baron in astonishment, just as a loud scream was heard. An undead soldier had impaled the Duke through his thigh to what looked like his groin region. Down the Duke fell, everything seemed to slow as Winter screamed in horror to. He tried to charge the infantry now slaughtering his Duke.. but he was too late. His Duke was dead..

Through his battle rage and tears Winter didn't even realize the undead weren't fighting him back anymore.. All the knights were now dead - this also going unnoticed, until another twenty undead fell.. Then with a pause, a fact dawned upon him a lot more suddenly. Whatever magic had caused this trickery was fading. The undead weren't just not fighting back, but they were fading away. One undead here, another there. All standing at attention looking towards the south the lot of them. They'd salute then just... stop existing. Slowly one by one, then two by two Winter just watched as his foes disappeared leaving him to be the sole survivor - Until he was the only one left. In a site not seen by anyone the Baron removed his helm and started to cry. His entire company, gone. The Duke's company.. gone.. Gods! The Duke was gone, and it was his fault. For what seemed like an hour Winter, The Baron cried like never before. He had failed his Duke, and failed God. The people under their protection would starve for months now, winter was upon them. The Arexians would have their land. All because of Moorehound's pride and he knew this.

"I'll never forgive myself.." cried the Baron, "God! Why did you burden me with this responsibility if you knew this would happen!!" he screamed as he threw his Heaume helmet into the sky as high as he could. "Damn you! You're responsible for this, you put me into this amour, into the graces of the Duke." on he cried, till all he could sob was curses at himself and at his God for failing his country."

Just as the ex-Baron was beginning to regain his composure another thing that defied belief happened. It was the middle of the plains, yet here it was.. A mast could be seen in the distance, A huge mast from what had to have been a 1rst rate ship of the line. "What in the.." Winter stood up to watch what surely must have been another illusion or another trick of some sort. Perhaps insanity was setting in.

Attached the mast was a long length of torn fabric, nothing that could catch wind. What in God's name could this be? He must be going insane he thought. Watching intently more and more of the massive ship could be seen. A huge beast of a ship. On the side of the ship was one word "Ontos". It floated above the ground about twenty feet in the air, floating as if it forgot it wasn't on the sea anymore, up and down the bow of the ship went until it pulled near Moorhound. Winter just watched stoically as it pulled to a halt. A large plank was shoved off the ship and landed on the ground. Down the ramp marched a long column of undead skeletons. All dressed in what looked like relatively new regalia. Each one with an olive coloured shirt and pants. Tall knee high shiny black boots and olive and golden epaulet's. The skeletons stopped and formed two lines each facing the other line and shouldered their tall halberds as they stopped. Winter watched until they stopped then started to unstrap his amour and then merely walked up the middle of both lines up the ramp to the Ontos. Being followed behind by the returning line of skeletons.

So the Baron boarded the Ontos to join the dead. He knew he was damned, and knew he belonged on this boat of the damned. What he didn't know is what future the Ontos represented for him. Off sailed the Ontos, towards the south, fading into invisibility as it went. Towards the watching creature a thousand miles away. He had gotten what he wanted. The impossible, a corrupted Xevic Lord he knew would serve him loyally and without question. Thus began the real story of Winter Moorehound.