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The Nobles saddled
their horses, readying for the charge, the forces before them, driving stakes
into their morale. They nodded to one another, the few hundred soldiers pulling
down the visors on their helmets, readying their lances, sharpening the tips
for this one last ride as the forces of evil descended upon them in masses.
"Lances ready." Said
one, a mortified feel to his voice, the others keeping a dead silence after he
had spoken, "May the Lady bless our charge and hope her divinity will keep the
reckless foe away from our hearts."
The mass of men that
poured over the hills and crossed the stream in the only open terrain in Derrevin Libre marched quickly, onward to the front line. The
few hundred knights readied for a downhill charge at their foe, hoping to rout
the enemy once and for all to leave their land and run home to their 'king'.
Horses started a
thunderous roar as the clanking of armour upon their barded
steeds only added to the vibration that sent the earth shaking. Their cries
rang out into the night as their lances fell downwards, tips ready to pierce.
Score on score of knights in this gallant charge against the thousands of foes,
a brave day for the men of the East.
Dust kicked up
everywhere, grass and dirt tossed in the horses' wakes as the resplendent
knights hit the battle's front line. Their weapons drove deep into the hearts
of their foe, lances piercing skulls and bodies, the knights laughing as the
bodies fell to the ground from impact. The living would flee from their lances,
yet these were not living. Expressions slowly spread across the faces of the
knights as those they struck down got back up, some headless, some with lances
right through their hearts. Worry came over them instantly.
"What are these...
things?!" They cried out in vain, as the structures that were to be living
people climbed up the lances that impaled them, or grabbed at the legs of the
horse and climbed upon them, pulling knights from saddle into the hungry force
below them. The living dead tore them apart limb from limb, head from neck,
until there was nothing left. Some tried to flee only to be struck down as the
flood of rot surrounded them, turning to see their own comrades rising from the
grave they had just been sent to before they were taken.
No one was left.
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