Post by Morec0
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Gilnean Moon (Part 4). ))
A night’s worth of marching was what it took for the Gilnean soldiers to arrive at the Headlands at dawn the next day. The trip itself was of little matter to well-trained soldiers such as them, but what they were supposed to encounter once they reached their destination had many of the men, both in Ivan’s battalion and not, unnerved. Some had even begun to speak of abandoning their posts to escape what they saw as suicide, but their superior officers and even Ivan himself on occasion stepped in to see to it that they did not. They would need all of the available soldiers to see this through, but if they were serving halfheartedly it would be the same as if they were not even there.
The commanding general raised his hand to have the soldiers behind him stop. This was where their enemies were supposed to be hiding and striking at civilization from, so where were they? All Ivan could see past the ranks of others were the remains of ancient Gilnean civilizations, nothing out of the ordinary for this location at all. As he continued to look at what he could see, however, he heard a howl. Quiet at first but growing in strength as the seconds ticked past. Strength and numbers.
“First rank; kneel and take aim. Second rank; take aim.” Ivan, who was in the center of the tenth rank from the front of fifty, continued to stand at attention and await his orders. He could not see any of the activity in the direction the soldiers were facing anymore, but in the distance a group of what appeared to be twenty five wolf-man-hybrid creatures had charged over the nearest hill and were making their way towards the soldiers. “Hold fire,” the general said, arm raised. Seconds later he brought his arm down and yelled the order; “open fire!”
Gilnean musket balls flew through the air from both ranks of soldiers, the worgen that had been attacking didn’t even stand a chance. All of them were instantly killed, falling to the ground second after the guns had sounded off. “Second rank; kneel. First and second ranks; reload,” the General ordered. “Third rank; take aim.” More of the creatures were bound to come charging from that direction any second, and the soldiers would be ready to open fire on them the moment they were spotted.
However, the sounds of battle came not from the rise, but from the very back of the column. Cries of pain and agony, and howls of rage and hunger. Somehow the beasts had managed to sneak up on the soldiers while the attention of the officers and soldiers had been towards the front, drawn by those worgen coming over the hill. It was disturbingly cunning, intelligent even.
What kind of beasts are these? Ivan thought, tempted to turn around to try and get a look but knowing that doing so would break formation.
“Forty-ninth rank; turn and fire! Forty-eight and forty-seventh ranks; bayonets!” The Generals words were frantic as he attempted to ride to the back to get a better view of the battle, but he was unable to reach his destination. Out from behind a nearby ruin, a massive brown-and grey worgen leapt from the shadows, knocking him from his horse and tearing out his throat in one swift motion before retreating back to his cover. As it ran, it let out a howl similar to the first, one that was responded to by an even greater number of howls than any man could have ever said they heard.
From all sides the Gilnean army was assaulted by hundreds of worgen. They quickly overran all sides of the Gilnean column before the soldiers had a chance to react. Blood and shredded flesh and armor flew off of each soldier as the beasts moved the numbers of soldiers. Many died before the Gilneans had a chance to react, but once they had the beasts’ slaughter all but stopped. Swords drawn and muskets raised the remaining soldiers fought back like they had been trained to do, easily killing the worgen but not nearly compensating for their current loses. The sheer power, agility, and rage the worgen had made them difficult to kill.
It did not take long for the chaos of the battle to separate the Gilnean forces from their formation. They found themselves separated into much smaller groups, more often than not to be quickly surrounded by worgen who would then proceed to rip them apart. Ivan managed to avoid this fate through sheer luck and fighting capability, cutting down any of the worgen that tried to kill him. They could take a significant amount of pain before they finally fell, but they could be killed.
One of the beasts attempted to slash out Ivan’s throat, but the warrior managed to raise his shield in time to deflect the attack before jabbing his sword foreword and into the beast’s neck. The cut severed the worgen’s jugular vein and red blood poured out, drenching its fur and the ground as it toppled over. Ivan turned to look for another one of the beasts to slay and saw that one of the Gilnean officers who still had a horse, one of the few advantages Ivan was positive they still had over the worgen. He was managing to deal some heavy damage to the worgen with his weapon but he was also failing to notice the worgen female charging at him from behind, her claws and fangs bared.
The elder Jeret grabbed his rifle and took careful aim, firing a bullet that struck the beast full in the skull. She fell down dead. The officer, Dennis Hendricks if Ivan was not mistaken, did notice this and nodded gratefully, riding into battle again. Ivan turned around to face a massive worgen that had snuck up behind him. It roared in the Gilnean’s face, but then fell dead to the ground. Behind it stood Elizabeth, her blade covered with blood from her freshest kill.
Before he had time to even say “thanks” Ivan saw another one of the creatures charge at her from behind. “Elizabeth! Behind you!” The woman turned, but was unable to save herself from being knocked off of her feet or stop the beast from sinking its fangs into a weak spot in the stomach of her armor. “
Bloody wanker!” Ivan yelled in fury and charged the creature, sword raised. But a second worgen leapt at him from the side and knocked him to the ground.
It tried to slash out his throat but Ivan managed to use his sword to impale the creature’s right paw to the ground. It howled in pain and snapped its jowls at Ivan’s throat, but the Gilnean lord brought up his left arm – his shield having been lost when the worgen knocked him off of his feet – to block the bite. At first the worgen’s fangs were unable to penetrate the Gilnean-crafted plate and chain, but the worgen gnawed on Ivan’s arm – painful even without piercing the flesh – as if it were a bone. Ivan tried to push the worgen’s muzzle away, but was unable to in time to prevent the monster from breaking through the armor and sinking his teeth into the Gilnean’s flesh.
Ivan yelled out in pain, balling his right hand into a fist and striking out at the worgen’s head. The blow was just enough to knock the worgen off of his arm, but it took large chunk of bloody meat with it. The worgen swallowed the chunk and then lunged at Ivan again, but a second powerful, fury-filled strike knocked it out cold. He looked around for Elizabeth but she was nowhere to be seen, nor was the worgen that had attacked her.
Ivan quickly pulled off his gauntlet to inspect the wound. It was a nasty one, but what caught Ivan’s eye about it was not the size of the profuse amount of blood pouring out of it, but that the muscle tissue looked infected. That’s when he remembered what Godfrey had said about the worgen being able to turn Gilnean people into “beasts just like them.” Light, this must be how they did so!
He was about to take his own life to ensure that he would never raise his sword against Gilneas but, as he looked around for his weapon, he realized just how hopeless the battle had become. They were outmatched, even with hundreds more soldiers than the worgen had they were being slaughtered like turkeys before the Pilgrim’s Bounty festival. There would be no survivors to warn anyone of what had happened here, nor would Godfrey and the other High Lords tell the citizens about the true extent of this pandemic, he was sure of both.
He began to look around for a horse, knowing it would be his… his only way to escape this massacre alive. He knew that he had to warn the people of Gilneas, but he was not sure how much time he had before he… before he lost all control. His thoughts were getting fuzzy, and he was quickly finding it difficult to stand. It… It was almost as if he was falling into a dream or catatonic state. He had to warn someone… warn Krista. Yes. He had to warn his sister of what was happening to Gilneas, and then she would be able to warn others. Warn the rest of Gilneas. Perhaps then they would be able to do something… something to stop all of Gilneas from… becoming monsters.
He finally found a steed, its rider likely having already been slain or… infected. He quickly mounted the beast and spurred it back to the southeast, heading for his home. Light willing, Krista would still be there and he would reach it in time. If not… then he prayed to the Light that someone else would get out the message he failed to.
Krista stepped out of carriage slowly, taking her time with each step to make sure she did not fall over. She had spent the entire night at the Light’s Dawn Cathedral praying for her brothers’ safe return. She was all but asleep, tired from lack of rest after so many hours of praying and her nap in the carriage on the way back had not helped much. But if the Light had not heard her pleas after that much time than truly it had turned a deaf ear to Gilneas.
“Milady,” the carriage drive said from his seat, looking down at her, “do you require any assistance?”
“I
know how to
walk!” she snapped up at him, not managing to find the strength – or maybe not bothering – to turn her head to look at him. “You are dismissed.”
The carriage driver nodded and was about to snap the reigns of the coach’s horses to take off, but the sound of galloping hoofs from the north – the direction he had just came from – drew his attention. “Milady!” he yelled as he looked in that direction, seeing a horse and its rider coming up fast, “look!”
Krista managed to turn her head to see what it was, and her eyes popped wide as she saw it was a badly injured Ivan. All feelings of tiredness vanished as they were replaced with concern and worry, and she rushed to her brother’s aid. Ivan, who had just barely been able to maintain his grip on the horse for most of the ride, toppled over. “Ivan!” Krista all but screamed. “What has happened to you!”
“K-Krista,” Ivan gasped, looking up into his sister’s face, “you- you have to-.”
“Shh, don’t waste your strength,” Krista said softly to her brother, then noticed the wound. “By the Light! What happened!”
“L-listen,” Ivan gasped out again, “Krista, you h-have to.”
“Milord and lady,” the carriage driver yelled, starting to climb down, “is there anything I can do to help-.”
“Yes,” Krista yelled back at him, “
leave. You’re presence is no longer needed here, commoner.”
“No!” Ivan yelled. “Stay!” He looked back at Krista. “Listen, you have t-to get-.”
“Ivan, quiet, you don’t have the strength to speak,” Krista said, cutting her brother off. “As for you,” she looked back at the carriage driver, “leave now or I’ll see to it your next visit from the tax collector will put you in debt for a millennium.” Without another word, the carriage driver cracked the reigns of his horses and sped off.
“No!” Ivan tried to get him to stop, but it was too late. “Krista-.”
“Don’t’ worry, the doctor treating the butler’s fever is still here, we’ll have him take a look at you and patch up that arm.” Mustering up as much of an arcane strength spell as she could, Krista was just barely able to get Ivan to his feet and try to carry him to the door. However, the eldest Jeret fought her attempts.
“No,” he said, managing to stop his stammer. “Krista, you have to listen; Godfrey sent me and the rest of my barracks to deal with the worgen threat in the Headlands.”
“Ivan, you’re speaking nonsense. What is a ‘wargan?’”
“Wolf-men, like… werewolves, b-but… real.”
Krista stared at him with an agape mouth for a few seconds then shook her head. “Ivan, you’ve lost too much blood. You’re delirious, you need to see the doctor.”
“No!” Ivan yelled, managing to push away from his sister, falling back onto the ground as he did so. “Krista, you have to listen; the worgen can turn other people
into worgen by biting them. I… I don’t know how, but one bit m-me. You have to kill me, or else I’ll become one of them-.”
“Ivan, have you lost your
mind!” Krista started to yell before her brother could even finish her sentence. “You’re starting to sound like one of those mad beggars on the street corners of Greymane City! Now look; I’m going to get you inside and then you’re going to lie down and have the doctor look at your wounds. You’re going to be fine; you understand?”
“N-no, K-Krista, I’m not…” Ivan screamed out in pain as he felt whatever was supposed to happen that turned him into one of those animals start to happen. “I… I can’t f-fight it any l-long. I can’t… I can’t control myself. Go! Get- get away from me! Now!” Ivan let out a final yell of pain before the most visible effects of the transformation took hold, Krista watching out in horror as they happened.
His skull and jawbone stretched out into a muzzle-like length, his nose and ears even warping in shape and color. His teeth were forced out of his mouth in a bloody and painful mess as new teeth – mostly canines – pushed them out and took their place. There was the sickening crack of bone as the ones in his arms and legs splintered, reshaping themselves into those more like a wolf’s and sharp, black claws cut through the tips of his gauntlets. His body grew unnaturally in size and proportion, the ribs in his chest pushing the flesh and muscle outward, and all over his body grew dark brown fur.