Border Guard

Vaub had to fight the urge to recoil when she reached for the wrong drink, and simply moved the cider in front of her reaching hand.

Then he made a gesture asking for the disk back.

"Ya don't see much of your kind round here Scales... Why is that? All the Draco I knew would never pass on a fight." Vaub said, asking more annoying questions.
 
Adria had to suppress the snort of laughter that threatened when Lily suggested that her nickname be the "corpse". If there was one thing that this trench did not need it was another corpse walking about. Hearing someone approach she turned to see the hulking figure of a draconian. The last time she had seen one of these guys had been when she had worked, for a time, with the airforce, wing tended to get you extra points when it came to being a paratrooper. Opening her mouth she was about to ask the Dracian a question when Vaub beat her to it. Perhaps his question was not as nicely worded as hers might have been however she did give the man points for his unending bluntness. Waiting for an answer from the newcomer she eyed the disk that Vaub had handed Lily with something the bordered on caution.

"Now Vaub I support your choice in hobbies but, have you ever heard that saying about history repeating itself? I hope this creation is not going to have the same effect as some of your others." She said.
 
Taking the cider from Vaub she nods thanks, handing the flask to Darur "Enjoy"
 
As a usual, he was battered down with questions from the other two, another woman, unknown her name, she seemed like a nice fellow and she laughed, which, in conditions such as this, don't come commonly. The other man, the drunk if you would cater to say that, proceeded to cut her off and ask his question while exchanging the flask to Lily, apparently there was only one flask that could be used.
"Ya don't see much of your kind round here Scales... Why is that? All the Draco I knew would never pass on a fight."
He put his words rather bluntly and fiercely toward Darur, most likely due to his current nature, but eh, he asked something. So he replied with a strange calmness in his voice;
"Nice remark. I am here for apparently doing somethin' wrong, I could not really clarify what it was exactly that I did, maybe it was just due me bein' unlucky and caught in some sort of racial cross-fire , we usually get picked on by everyone else anyways...'cept for those flyboys in the airforce! And I am not one to fight, 'lest your askin' for one!" He chuckled a bit at his last sentence before being handed his drink from Lily, He took a sip of it (which in his case was half of the flask) and nodded before finishing the rest and returning the flask to Lily again, who most likely will hand it over to Vaub. Sure it was a little bit sour like Vaub said, but that was fine compared to what the standard is around here, these trenches are horrid conditions.
Now he wished he became a part of the airforce.
But curiosity was killing him over who the third person was, the woman who was not Lily, they never really talked about her much when he was eavesdropping to really figure out her name, so he just had to bust outta his way to ask her;
"Excuse me m'lady, but it has bothered me for quite a while...What is your name?"​
 
"Eh..." Lily shakes the now empty flask "You..." she looks at Darur, a little worried "You feeling alright?"
 
Cloak continues watching the rain fall. He got used to it, a while ago. Dunno why; it just sorta wore off. Kinda beautiful, if ya think about it. Well, he got a bit bored staring at rain, and stood up, making his way back towards where he inferred the others would be. Sure enough, he saw Lily, the kinda...off girl, Scales (As Vaub and sometimes Cloak referred to Darur), Adria, and Vaub, who was probably his closest friend in all of this. Cloak strolled over, his machine pistol set in a small holster just in case.
"Hey, back......gets real boring, staring at rain all day, huh?"
He said awkwardly, his mask muffling his voice though it was still understandable.
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(Hand not accurate)
 

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Darur looked at Lily in confusion, "I'm fine. Just a little curious as I am new here, why? Is there anything wrong?"
 
"I think she's surprised that you drank all of it Scales, but never mind that, and I wouldn't worry about racial prejudice here, we are all friends and family in the trenches." He said as he gestured again for the disk that he had handed lily.
Last time he let someone else handle a invention of his it took all five healers to keep the poor bastard alive.

He turned to address Cloak as he entered again.
"I don't know, the rain is calming. Reminds me of Coldstone, and my old church..." He paused for a moment, then drank from his flask of strong alchohol, trying to drown something out.
 
"The whole thing...Count me impressed" She says, tipping the flask back tasting the last few drops "There goes weeks of gathering apples and months of distilling"
 
He solemnly lowered his head in reply at the woman "Yes, yes, so I did drink all of that... And I am so sorry, but on the contrary, it was mostly gone to begin with... And I know a way to get apples, good apples, here at the border! " Just then, another person seemed to join in on the fray Vaub referred to him as 'Cloak' which suited him well for he seemed to wear such a cloak that seemed to cover his identity, Darur doesn't know why one would do that, no one looks shameful, and does not need to hide it in cloaks and masks, heck, even those boneheads don't do it! But, it's whatever suits that man the best, plus he looks to dangerous for Darur to be tussling with anyways! So he decided to stay silent with the man, but from rumors he has bee hearing, it seems like there are some scout undeads' already at the wall "It was nice meeting you all...and drinking all of that deliscious Homebrew, but it seems that I have to go back to my post, sadly." He sulked as he gathered his things, waved at them, and trudged back to his post at the front line against the dead. Is it time to die already? And for what crime too?
 
Las left the group behind, letting them talk as she returned to the soldier's cots. She stopped at her own and sat down, pulling a bag out from under the cot and pulling out a piece of paper and a pencil before she began writing.
_______​

Far across the battlefield, the undead armies stirred. Thousands of rotting corpses stood in the trenches. Restless, hungry, waiting. A robed figure strode through the trenches, his face scarred and his breast covered in military decorations. A younger, smaller woman followed behind him, dressed in similar robes though undecorated. "Sir, the preparations are ready. You can begin the charge as you see fit. The Behemoths will be sent shortly afterwards, as will the Horsemen and Banshees," she said. The other necromancer nodded. "Very well," he responded before turning to the the horde. "BEGIN THE CHARGE!" he boomed.

The undead streamed up and out of the trench, climbing on top of eachother as they clawed for the top. They emerged over the edge of the trenches and ran, rifles and sabers and axes and shovels gripped in their bony fingers. An unfortuante scout was caught up in the

Back in the Ivernian trenches, a sniper knelt down peering through their scope. She whistled to herself before seeing... Something at the other end of her scope. She looked closer, before scrambling away and letting her gun fall to the ground of her tower. "UNDEAD! UNDEAD! UNDEAD!" she shouted, scrambling over to the edge and yelling down to the man stationed by one of the bells that lined the trenches. He rang the bell, and the other bellmen did the same before the whole of the trenches was filled with the deep ringing of bells.

The undead were coming, and there would be blood.
_______
​
Las looked up from her leather and frowned, tossing her paper aside and grabbing up her rifle. She slid the quicksilver vial into her belt and stormed out of the sleeping area with another group of soldiers. She pulled back the bolt on her rifle and watched as some climbed up into no man's land to fight the undead on their own turf. She frowned and climbed after them, ready to face death head on.​
 
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Wesley hit his spotter hard on the shoulder. "Idiot why didn't you see them?!" Wesley goes to work looking for the stronger undead not wanting to waste his bullets on common grunts.
 
Lily sits back for a second, before standing and heading outside, flicking the safety on her pistol and waiting for the undead to get within ranged, firing at any that got close, with precision impressive for a pistol
 
"Never a dull moment." Vaub said as the sirens went up and he chugged the rest of his flask.

He walked now with a much less exaggerated stagger, as he walked to his personal effects crate and pulled out a pair of steel boots and gauntlets, painted stark white, slipping them on he grabbed a large mace that doubled as a staff, and climbed out of his trench and jabbed it into the ground, holy fire erupted from his body, and yet he did not burn.

The weak undead rabble fled from his presence, redirecting them into the trenches into the waiting weapons of his comrades.

But the rifle wielding undead proved dangerous, bullets began to whiz near him. He drew the disk he retrieved when lily dropped it running out and threw it, it decapitated 3 rifleman before it returned to him.
The stronger undead began to surge towards him, unabated by the holy aura, and engaged him in melee. But they were still skeletons with sabers, and he was still a paladin of the light with a giant fuck-off bone-crushing mace.
 
Mike moved up, flame thrower at the ready. "Die you sons of bitches!" He screamed as the flame thrower belched it's lethal mixture onto the undead. Mike watched as the fire burned them down and smiled. "This is for my brothers you motherfucking undead!" He screamed as he started moving his line of fire to burn more of the undead.
 
Gunfire flew over Las' head as she she emerged at the top of the trench and she crawled to 'cover' behind the broken down remains of a wagon nobody had bothered to clean. The booming of artillery behind her combined with the repeated sounds of gunfire nearly deafening her. She drew up her rifle and peeked over the wagon, resting her rifle on the frame and taking a few shots, weaving a bit of magic into each one, ensuring that every shot hit their mark with deadly precision. The corpse soldiers fell like dominoes, there was no doubt, but that didn't mean their side wasn't taking casualties. Another soldier not too far from Las, Dominic as she remembered, took a round to the face. Blood sprayed out of the back of his head as the bullet passed through and he slumped backwards. She grimaced and took one of her few remaining vials of quicksilver and stared down at it. She frowned slightly, knowing she'd regret using the stuff later (not to mention the telling off she'd get from the healers), but popped open the vial and tilted her head back. Her head spun as she felt a burst of magical energy flow through her and she slumped down a bit before righting herself.

"Okay, undead! How about you stay dead now?" Las said, standing up. Her eyes glowed lightly, and the air around her shimmered visibly. She stepped around the cart and held up the rifle, firing and pulling back the bolt before replacing the empty clip. Bullets whizzed towards her and seemed to redirect them selves around her, flying uselessly off into the air or ground. She smiled and stood her ground. Her gun clicked empty a second time and instead of reloading, she held her hand against the side of the gun, the air around her crackling with energy as she muttered magic-laced words. She returned to her normal shooting stance and fired again, electricity arcing from the barrel of her gun.

Off in the distance a high-pitched scream rang out, and few of the undead turned to look before continuing their tireless march. Here come the Banshees.
 
The sound of a banshee sent shivers down Wesleys spine. He had had a close call on his first day at the trenches. Since then he made them a priority target. He worked the bolt in a flash. Putting lead in the head of every undead. Without taking his eye off his scope He taps his spotter on the shoulder and motions for him to go get more ammo. No response. Wesley looked at him and saw that a bullet had passed right through his binoculars and into the spotters skull. Wesley got up and shouted at the soldiers on the ground "MORE AMMO HERE!". The undead drew closer.
 
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Darur ran as fast as he could to his position and to ring the bell at his post as soon as possible, as someone best him to it, he pulled up and down as fast as he could, once he was sure everyone got the message he ran to the front lines, ready to face the enemy first-hand and up close to defeat these boneheads, man they were ugly, uglier than him! and that's saying quite a bit. He got out his ax and shotgun, and roared at them, ready for battle...
He sliced and hacked at them, clawed at them, shot at them, and even bit their heads off in order to kill them and rid of their existence, they actually seemed pretty easy to kill, and he even liked the sound of their bony heads cracking under his feet.
and then he heard it, Banshees, he even saw one of those hideous things take out a guy not that far away, spill his insides everywhere, it was a terrible sight. Darur recoiled at the sight and ran back for added assistance in taking these guys out.
Hopefully, he might bump into somebody he knew, but what were the chances of that?​
 
Lily continues to shoot the undead as they come, her pistol never failing to hit it's mark, head after head became mulch to her bullets, until she had to reload, dropping the mag she slots in another 8 rounds and reload, killing another 8 undead, repeating the process over and over
 
Vaub was swinging with all his might, sending skeletons parts skattering across the battlefield. His robe glowing ever brighter with every undead slain, the fire climbing ever higher.

Then he heard it, the scream.....that goddamn scream... It was FUCKING BANSHEES.

He scanned the battlefield and saw one, a sickly looking woman in appearance, floating above the ground in a long flowing cloak.

He dropped into a dead sprint towards it, a expression of unfathomable rage on his face, Vaub passed Darur as he ran, paying him no attention.

Its back was turned to him as he approached, all the better for him, as he planted his boot in the middle of the banshees back and floored her/it. He grabbed its head and twisted till he felt a crack, then till he heard one, then twisted some more. The banshee could now look directly at him. He locked eyes with it and bellowed his own earsplitting shout at it, just as loud but mundane and unmagical, then staved its head in with the pommel of his mace.
 
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