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He needed allies in this battle, Lucian realized that as he slaughtered another grouping of the undead with a swipe of his scythe. The undead kept coming down upon him with the fury only rabid animals could have, each of them trying to tear apart the Dwarfen made armor that Lucian was wearing. Whenever they would touch him the Knight flexed his muscles with such immense force that their bodies exploded in a gore of flesh.
He advanced forward, his feet having the flight of wind underneath him as he charged in the direction of the Dwarf he saw. His memory had blazened the direction, yet even without it he felt that his soul knew the direction. Something about the Dwarf’s appearences were striking a cord with Lucian that few things had before.
It was hard to explain but he did not have the time to think. He simply followed his senses and kept on the slaughter that was these fleshy sacks of meat.
How many had their souls and afterlife ruined by the machinations of Nagash? How many of them had been tied down by the servants of the undead lord that were suffering because of it. Oblivion would have been a greater goal than becoming the lackey to some upstart who though they could change the world order to their advantage.
The pitty in his heart only made his blade work more. What Lucian was committed to was not the killing of people but the freedom of them. With each step that he took, with each attack of the blade, he was giving them back to the realm where they belonged. He was giving them peace!
“By Morr’s Will I will triumph!” Shouted the Knight as he harvested a dozen more head for Morr.
Then his steps were where he had witnessed him. The Knight of Morr, he who devoted himself, had gone to where the White Dwarf stood. Yet he did not see a White Dwarf standing there, yet Lucian knew that he was not cheated.
Morr would not cheat him.
Reality proved the Champion right as sudden a wave of corpses came flying in his direction. Lucian had raised his scythe in the direction as a block as three bodies of the dead and damned came scattering like some perverse scattering of leaves in the autumn wind.
He heard the horse then, the Knight lowering his guard to look up at the beast and then the Knight that was upon its back.
Ducal Prince Gillot, he who was his sworn enemy and had chased him across the lands of Bretonnia, had his helm faced squarely at Lucian. Both looked at each other for not even their metal masks could hide the surprise that they felt for seeing the other here.
