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As Lucian looked upon the warrior he wondered to himself what the fighter was capable of. There was something about him that awe struck the Peasant so strongly that he could not help but feel fervor building up within his stomach.
“I will fight him.” Lucian said as he felt his back straighten.
“Aye, then the Necromancers are mine.” A somewhat feral grin came across the Runesmith as the two of them broke apart from their discussion to face those that were holding them back.
The large robbed figure showed its intelligence in walking up and standing before the horde. Such display of restraint against what was likely the numerous commands coming from the Necromancers showed the sheer fortitude of the figure that was standing before them. As he did so, his blade hovered before his person. It gave a ghastly blue glow as the magics within it swirled.
Such a gesture meant something. Lucian knew it from a lesson that he was given by the Count in what was likely a week ago.
Lucian too stepped forward and presented his weapon, “I am Lucian of Verac, Squire to Count Remon and Warrior of Morr. I hereby accept your challenge, fiend, so that I may send your spirit back to the Death Lord!”
The warrior underneath the cloth retracted his blade and held it vertically next to his head. Such a method was obviously becoming prepared for the fight but Lucian could not say what style the undead was using. All he knew was that this creature was a Bretonnian for he performed the ritualistic duel of a tournament.
The two of them stared at one another as they weighed their skill. Lucian for his ignorance could not tell much except that the creature was an expert with the sword. He knew for sure the monster knew exactly what measure of Lucian had. He could feel it within his bones that the creature he was about to face was not only ancient but skilled.
The crack in the silence came as one of the zombies could not hold themselves anymore and stepped forward.
All at once, everyone charged forward with fury in their steps.
