Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead-Chapter 333: Fear The Night : Glee

Most of the minor lords were accounted for by now, although not everyone knew everything, overall, only two had yet to appear at all, and it was for Bough to account for them, the copper knight, often times eclipsed by Pierre-Ornée despite being the more physically impressive of the duo, armed with naught but his greatshield, he swept through the waves of undeads, at first, just regular rank and file, the lowest of the typical soldiers, swarming en masse, but even their combined weight and efforts could not trump over the physical might of the Shieldmaster.

Swinging his shield through the masses, after Antieeld released her army of translucent soldiers, the undeads that came flooding in changed from typical soldier to much more dangerous ones, some that were easily recognisable such as death knights and dullahans, direct followers of minor lords and gravelords, corpse abominations.

Warriors and beasts from distant times, from all over the continent and sometimes even beyond, trained forces in different arts, skills and affinities, still, they were still part of the common army of eternity, as scary and despairing as this notion might sound to the greater majority, to Shieldmaster Bough, all that could not put a dent in his armour was small fry in his eyes, even those that struck at his soul, mind and whatever else that did not involve the physical found their attacks bouncing right off.

Rising his foot high, alongside his shield, he came slamming down, shaking the ground, pushing the ground-bound corpses off the soil, where they were all scooped up by a single swing, breaking and throwing them back at their allies with the strength of siege weaponry.

Laughing gleefully, even amidst this sea of decaying horrors, he still somehow managed to be the most uncanny thing on the battlefield, only finding resistance, against the larger cadavers, mounds of rot that have taken the appearance of moss, corpses as large or even larger than Bough himself, they could challenge him to a contest of strength, but in the end, he always came out without a scratch, pounding each and every vile undead into the ground, literally, as they were absorbed back into the soil, presumably taken away to be mended and sent right back into the fray.

That’s how Bough liked it, an unending stream of pests to crush to his heart’s content! A carnival of destruction, a parade of broken bones and torn flesh, a circus of pungent and foul liquids, that was the appetiser.

Blocking a condensed stream of red sand alongside the powerful slash of a blade, Bough had found his main meal, and coincidentally, also the last two minor lords that had been keeping it low until now, Ir’Houwl and Ourlon, both puny of size before the copper knight, but far from puny in power.

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The two minor lords were perhaps just a bit taller than the human male average, but the power of the one with the chipped blade as just mustered out of the blue was definitely worthy of Bough’s attention.

"Hey girl, did you absorb anything from this?" Ourlon asked his compatriot, Ir’Houwl standing with one blade on her shoulder, the other tapping against her thigh area, which was mostly just sand.

"Nope, his armour is imbued with some sort of ability, he resists everything" she replied, raising the curved blade from her shoulder, rousing great amounts of red sand, conjured en masse before engaging combat.

Pointing the other at her fellow’s pale blade, three different sources of red sand came wrapping around the sword, infusing it with the three effects she could muster, running his bony index against the side of his trusty weapon, Ourlon enacted his masterful arts, developed at Loimos’s behest, even if the vanguard had technically been a temporary thing, the minor lords still viewed him as their general.

And he was big on teamwork, despite typically acting on his own, he had found time to direct them on what strategies they should work upon, which included Ourlon learning to mix his mastery of the battle arts with Ir’Houwl’s innate ability.

Swinging his blade in a downward fashion, really putting his entire weight into it, a ranged slashed of red sand extended from his blade, striking up against the impenetrable with dire force, not enough to breach it, but chaining the powerful strikes, the skeleton sent blasts of red sand flying everywhere, including over the shieldmaster.

Ir’Houwl manipulated those grains to try and find a way inside the heavy suit of armour, which was impossible, the only actual gap in there was the holes for the eyes, and even then, they were not actually leading to the person inside, a perfectly transparent layer of some type of reinforced glass blocked the way.

Relaying this information to her partner, he grunted, watching as Bough moved forward, firmly planting his shield into the ground, pushing forth, uprooting the soil below without compromising his speed, gathering momentum as he rushed forward.

He needed time to get truly fast, allowing both of the undeads to get out of the way in time, bringing both her blades together, the sand lord striked at the back of the shieldmaster’s knee, a mass of red sand following right after, her arms thrown back, stone blades shaking.

Not only was it brutally tough, the recoil was also boosted unnaturally by Bough’s inborn ability, so powerful that she was thrown off balance and onto her behind, onto a carpet of red sand that slid her away from the living.

At the same time as her, Ourlon struck at the other knee, pale blade enhanced by both his regular arts and that using the red sand, being a more astute fighter, he avoided the brunt of the recoil, sparks flying in the air as he marked the armour with a most small dent, which mended itself nearly immediately.

The shield came swinging, stepping back and jumping up, nullifying most of the blow as he threw it right into a mass of red sand, catching him like a net.

"The general was right, he is similar to The Death Dealer, in his case though, his armour seemed to be considered integral to his being" speaking in death tongue, Bough had no clue what was being said from the beginning, but he could guess that it was about him.

"Well then, we’ll just follow the initial plan and just chip away at him with my sand, as long as we keep him occupied, all is good" the desert undead had once been a royal guard for an ancient empire of the great desert, but she had never thought much of any warriors affairs, not understanding honour or the need to better one’s blade in the heat of combat.

Serving king Nitok and more recently, working under Loimos had greatly changed that outlook, but that did not change the fact that she was willing to sit back and stall for days instead of taking an unnecessary risk.

Ourlon was more inclined to throw himself into flames, but he had to respect orders.

Bough was an extraordinary foe, his outlandish defences and resistances to all types of attacks meant that one either needed a great attack force or to take gambles to put him down, any mistake could prove dire when facing the human giant.

Stomping the ground once again, Shieldmaster Bough prepared to move forward, unknowingly helping a small figure unearth themselves, two cross-shaped slashes falling upon his back and managing to dig into the durable copper-coloured steel.

"Well fuck me! Am I at an all you can eat buffet?!"

Much to his joy, and much to life’s despair, Vwoldtnir was joining in.