The Battle of Miragliano Part 1, The battle on the Trino
This is the first part of 4 games covering the undead attack on the city of Miragliano. The city is on the western edge of Tilea and borders the Blighted Marshes from where the undead periodically attack.
Previously the town of Uldopho, near the mountains was attacked and captured by the undead. However, there advance south as checked by a battle on the Via Nord.
A Damp mist clung ground like a heavy sea as the men of the River Watch gathered. The chill air seemed to sap the will from their tired frames. Many had rushed to gather as soon as the calls went out, but still not half their full strength had mustered. Captain Leonard stood amongst the assembling groups, as the warden of the river he knew most of them by name and had directly recruited more than half. They had spent time training and drilling and he did not doubt their bravery. Many of the late comers would be hurrying from far patrols or hamlets. Sill, he wondered how many were not really late but had instead decided to head to their villages, to help their families pack and get away as fast as possible.
Leonard glanced down at the river in front of their position. It was was low, and would get lower still, now that snow and ice were forming on the mountains, trapping any rain until spring. Here at the ford, the rushing water was barely knee high, though in places it suddenly became much deeper.
His observation of the river was interrupted by a shout from Hans, one of the keenest eyed of his marksmen. Suddenly a silence fell as all the Watch turned to peer through the settling fog across the river. From the mist shambling forms were emerging, unmistakably the undead of the Blighted Marshes. Most of them men had encountered the odd zombie, wondering out from the Marshes, but non of them had ever seen this many all at once.
Since Udolpho, Leonard had know that there was a will to these happenings, but still the sight of so many undead shocked him. The men around him felt it too, and began to shrink back from their position. In a moment Leonard had recovered and his voice rang out in the still air. “No step back men, hold them at the river and let it wash them out to the see. Think of your families and no step back.” The line recovered and moved up to the edge of the river, but as more and more corpses massed out of the mist Leonard realised that this was no longer a battle to win, it was simply a battle to buy time.
Long ago, when Xebulon began his journey in the arts of undeath, he had dreams of eternal life, ruling over obedient servants, living and dead, who would obey his every whim. Never had it once occurred to him that it might be cold. He had slowed his heart and body with magic, to extend out his mortal life as he searched for the secrets for an immortal one. Now he felt this lack of inner heat as he squelched through cold, thick mud, ankle deep. In the past, he had envisioned life in a tall tower with a roaring fire, furs and thick carpets, surrounded by luxuries and servants. Instead, he was out in this windswept marsh, wrapped in rags and dank old cloaks driving forward stinking masses of zombies on someone else's behalf. Where had it all gone so wrong?
The mist around them had been clearing and the river was now in sight. Across the river, men in bright uniforms hurried about to form battle lines. At the sight of these outfits, a twinge of envy came over Xebulon. He decided then and there that once they reached the towns he would help himself to a fine set of clothes, preferably not from a corpse, and a set of shoes to match.
The battle
As the undead emerged from the mists of the Blighted marshes, Leonard had arranged his force back from the crossing, infantry in the center, archers and hand gunners on the flanks. Zebulon's first line was made up of zombies and ghouls, with the skeletons and corpse cart behind. The wight king, Hvitskirt, led one unit and he the other. He also had a small number of bow armed skeletons and one of these released an arrow which struck a handgunner from the hill they were stood on.
The human forces now moved up to the river to counter the undead while the missile armed troops fired. The archers felled 1 skeleton and the hand gunners 5 more Leonard's attempt to use his ruby wring was easily stopped by Zebulon.
Now the undead began the crossing, and though the waters were low, some lost their footing on slippery rocks, or surprising holes. 5 zombies were swept away as were 10 ghouls, perhaps the freezing waters affecting the still living ghouls more than the dead flesh of the zombies. A burst of magic from Zebulon reinvigorated the zombies, even as they were washed away, and they clawed their way back to the unit.
With a shout, Leonard let his swordsmen into the zombie horde, whole the halberdiers also charged into the ghouls, hoping only to buy time. The archers drew their knives and also charged the zombies. The hand gunners again fired and slew 3 more ghouls, but it was not enough to scare of the gibbering fiends. The brave halberdiers chopped down 1 ghoul, even as their poisoned claws dragged down 3 men. Despite the overwhelming odds the men held. Near by the swordsmen bravely struck at the zombies, though the archers recoiled as fear over took them. 10 zombies were brought down, including 1 by Leonard's magic blade, but 2 swordsmen and 5 archers disappeared under the mass of living dead.
The other unit of ghouls now charged the flank of the halberdiers, surrounding them, not 1 man escaped. Meanwhile the fight in the middle continued, more men and zombies fell. The archers suffered badly, as Zebulon's magic empowered the zombies and 6 fell, though the swordsmen fended off the attack. Another hand gunner was also struck by an arrow.
The battle was now reaching its climax. The hand gunners, seeing no other option charged into the flank of 1 one the ghoul units, bludgeoning them with their guns. Several were knocked down and the rest turned to run, but scattered as the men pressed in, clubbing yet more of the evil things. The hand gunners continued until the hit the next block of ghouls. The swordsmen continued to hack at zombies and only 2 men fell to a score of zombies. There were now less than half of the original number, though only the archer's piper remained.
Zebulon could see victory within his grasp. The ghouls were overrunning one flank, and the rest of the humans were trapped by the zombies. With a gesture he willed the corpse cart forward. The enemy would fall easily to its mass of flailing limbs. This might also be enough to drive off the swordsmen and end their resistance. The moaning bodies dragging the fowl contraption built up speed and then entered the water. At first it seemed to go well, but then one lost its footing, then more. The cart began to tip sideways.
“No, NO!” shouted Zebulon but it was meaningless as the cart slowly tipped on its side and then flipped into the water, pitching the strange creature on top into the middle of the river. In a few seconds it was over and Zebulon could do nothing as he watched the broken pieces and twitching bodies of the cart flow away with the river.
The loss of the corpse card was a problem, but not a big one. Zebulon led his skeletons across the river, and though 4 were swept away, and he himself nearly lost his footing, they made it and crashed into the hand gunners. Many were slain and the remaining 3 fled away, out pacing both the ghouls and skeletons. More and more zombies were being cut down, and soon few remained.
Captain Leonard pushed the last zombie from his blade and took stock of his situation. All his archers had fallen or been injured. He could see the figures of some hand gunners running back to the village. But all around him were hacked apart remains of zombies and ghouls, the sun was already breaking through the dark clouds. His mission was almost complete. However, he and his men still needed to cut their way out from the undead encircling them
Zebulon turned his forces to face the last of the humans, and prepared to encircle them even as they cut down the last of the zombies.
Seeing his chance, Leonard let his men forward with a shout “One last push, men.” They charged into the ghouls who proved no match and quickly scattered. Now the way out was clear.
As he watched the last of the defenders march over the hill and away from the river Xebulon cursed to himself. He had taken too long to clear the crossing point, his master would be most displeased. But more than than, with all the time it had taken, he was sure that the villagers would have been able to load up all of their finest clothes and escape.
He looked down at his own tattered rags, and singular shoe, (having lost one in the river) and sighed. There probably weren't even any decent boots left.
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