The Battle of the Blood Moon
by Findail
The rhythmic rasping of the saw had developed into a sort of music in my head, disconnecting me briefly from reality with its lulling overtures. As I was swept away by its sounds, a jangling counterpoint began to intrude. With a start, I realized it was the newly installed bell at Champion’s Keep tolling out a dire warning. Snapping back to reality with a feeling of dread, I scrambled to strap on my leathers, feeling my nerves reverberate with each clang of the bell. I rushed out of the guild house, and sprinted straight to Elf Gate, in hopes that I would make it into the safety of the city before the large wooden doors were barricaded shut.
A group of stalwart defenders had already gathered there, and the sight of some familiar faces brought my pounding heart down a few levels towards normality. Naieth was there – calm, focused, but with a hard edge about her face that spoke of business. She was actively directing the group into a semblance of order in preparation to defend the gates. Kard stood firm on the front line, in his plate and wielding a sword in a business-like manner. Mhog was also there, and the sight of that furry mountain of magical might casting protective spells on all who needed them gave me hope that we would hold against the threat that night.
As I took in my surroundings and looked for a good vantage point to employ my bow, a shiver passed through the crowd and a low moan went up. Faces turned toward the sky, and as I looked up, I saw the moon darken to the color of freshly spilled blood. The attitude of the defenders shifted immediately to one of intense watchfulness, and I could feel the tension thrumming in the air so heavily that my teeth hummed in response.
With a sudden crash like a thousand coffin lids banging open, the gates gave way. A miasma of corruption blew across the defenders, causing many to shudder and offer up prayers to the gods. Through the mists came the most horrifying sight – dark, shambling figures that moved with an unnatural animation, intent on cutting down the defenders and occupants of the city. With many a battle cry, the defenders charged to engage them. From the rear, archers fired with deadly accuracy, while mages and priests called down magical destruction. With intense determination, and many a brave act, we drove them back and barricaded the gates once again.
In the lull that followed, I quickly sprinted to the west tower of the gate to gain the ramparts. From the ramparts, the view was that of a nightmare scene delivered by Wilash himself. The blood moon stained the landscape in front of the gate, giving life to shadows that seemed to twitch and move so as to drive one mad. The light of that ghastly moon stained the fog red, and I strained my eyes in vain for any signs of the attackers. In the streets below, I could hear talk of another fierce attack at the wharf areas, and rumors of a ghost ship docking. As I continued to gaze out into the darkness, a cry suddenly rang out from Naieth – the foul creatures had come up from the sewers behind our lines.
Chaos would have ensued if not for the quick reactions of Naieth and someone named Day that quickly reorganized the defense. While Naieth held the gate, the hardy warriors engaged the attackers and the archers provided covering fire. I fired down from the ramparts as quickly as my fingers could manage, plunging burning arrows into the animated corpses. My efforts did not go unnoticed. One of the creatures, with a horrible visage like a pirate dead for forty days under the sea, cut his way through a Champion of O’Ma and turned his lifeless eyes up to me. I fired yet another arrow at him, striking a solid blow as he began to run towards the ramp leading up to the wall.
Knowing I had little chance against his rusting cutlass should he engage me, I ran to the tower door, ready to make my escape to the ground and the madness of the battle raging there. As he reached the top of the wall, I fired one last shot, then ducked into the tower and headed down. Thinking to catch him unaware, I made the mistake of waiting at the bottom of the first flight of steps to squeeze out another shot as he came through the door. That was almost my undoing, as my bow caught on the doorframe, and he charged down, hacking into my arm with his cutlass.
With an agility driven by fear, I leapt down the remaining stairs and scrambled for the vial I keep ready in my belt at all times. Flipping the cork out as quickly as possible, I raised the invisibility potion to my lips … but almost too late. As I gulped it down, I felt the slash of the blade across my back, and nearly fell to the floor. At that moment, a fearsome warrior, I believe named Jerek charged through the door and engaged the repulsive creature. At the same time, from the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a shadow moving within a shadow, and an arrow plunged into the back of the creature.
A fierce clashing of blades ensued, with Jerek making a valiant attempt to fell the undead pirate while fighting from a disadvantage below him on the stairs. I dropped back a short distance and resumed firing flaming shafts into the pirate, with meticulous care not to feather Jerek as well. With a loud cry, Jerek raised his weapon with the seeming intent of taking off the abomination’s head, but – alas! It was not to be. The foul thing thrust its cutlass down through the armor joint under his arm, spilling his life blood out with horrifying quickness.
Fortunately for us both, a mysterious figure in black, who moved with a cat-like grace that nearly eluded the eye, was still intent on finishing this battle. As the pirate moved towards the figure, I slipped around and quickly applied a healing kit to Jerek, stemming the life-threatening flow of blood. Still groggy and weak, he rushed to the door to get reinforcement from others. With a stomach churning start, I realized the creature had returned his focus to me – apparently he had lost the mysterious figure in the shadows and decided on easier prey. Hoping to distract him from Jerek’s retreat, I tumbled past towards the stairs leading up and sprinted for the ramparts. After quickly crying out for help in the tower, I rushed back inside – only to find that the mysterious defender had finished off the creature by methods unknown. After bandaging my wounds, I headed back to the top of the wall.
The view of the streets below was sobering and stunning. Corpses, all now lifeless and still, littered the streets like the rotting husks of apples under a tree in late fall. Many were the bodies of the very brave souls who had come to defend the citizens of Elysia. Fortunately, many more were the creatures of Zaamon, finally put to their rightful rest. But hope was not lost! Cha’reth smiled upon the defenders, and graced Naieth with his healing powers, allowing her to call back the souls of many a valiant warrior from beyond the curtain and reunite them with their bodies.
Weary to the point of exhaustion, I trudged back down the steps of the tower, intent on making the rounds to ensure our safety. However, my body betrayed my mind, and I woke the next day, safely barricaded into my room at the Second Solace Inn. With the sunlight coming through the window, the horrors of the night before seemed almost … well, a nightmare. The stains on my armor spoke the truth, though. My mind whirled with questions. Was the attack on the gates merely a feint to draw our attention? How did they find their way into Elysia’s sewers? Did we stave off the wave of attacks? Were all of my friends ok?
In the days that followed, I was reassured to find all of my friends alive and well, though having learned not much more than I. I heard that to stave off the attacks, 600 priests of O’Ma gave up their souls to this mad sorcerer, Zaamon. Dru’El have mercy on them, as obviously O’Ma did not. I for one, will give nothing to a beast like this Zaamon. If he wants my soul, he’s welcome to fight his way through Elysia’s finest to get it.