If you’re just joining us, please refer to the Prelude written by Samodean of Hardcore Casual.
Corrigan spun around to look at the ragged band of citizens he had been marching through the wilderness. Where a moment ago this group looked ready to drop dead on the ground a change was taking place. The Banshee screams had affected the masses. That effect was not a good one.
As the possession took effect with terrifying speed the very faces of his people distorted…shrunk…darkened. Their eyes blacked out as these farmers and common folk fell under the terrible spell. The weakness and fear turned to visible rage and hate. One of the people, a nondescript man in his later years, suddenly reached out and ripped a spear from the hand of a nearby soldier. Before anyone could move the man drove the spear through the thigh of the soldier who screamed in shock and pain. Instantly other men at arms cut the man down.
A sergeant looked at Corrigan and barked, “Sir?!” Other citizens had reached out and grabbed ahold of soldiers; snarling, punching, scratching and biting. “Sir! Your orders Sir!”
“Kill them all!” is what he knew he should order but Corrigan shouted “Restrain the possessed! Do not kill them! Restrain! These are our people!” He was getting soft, and he knew it. Soldiers lay about the infected rabble with sword butts, sticks and shields bashing, knocking and punching…anything to fight them back without using the blade.
“PRIEST!” bellowed Corrigan. He knew there were men of the cloth at the back of the column and right now he needed their services in a bad way. His men were frantically holding down those that had become possessed and it was not looking to be an easy task.
Up from the back of the crowd an old, old priest came shuffling at what looked like his most frantic pace, though it was barley more than a walk. As he cast his milky white eyes upon the scene of possession and demon spirit in front of him he choked and gasped at the pure evil of the sight. “Si..sir…I’ll do what I can…” the elderly priest stammered as he hobbled towards the nearest victim.
In that instant Corrigan knew he had been bested. In the very instant the priest started shambling towards his infected citizens Corrigan realized he had failed his men, his people and himself. In his haste to deal with the issue of the Banshee possession he had failed to hold to one of the very basic of military tactics…always be on the lookout for an ambush.
The arrows whistled and thuncked into the ranks of soldiers and common folk alike. He watched men, women and children fall to the ground by the dozens. He never saw the arrow coming that got him in the chest but it hit its mark true.
Corrigan slumped to the ground, his vision blurring, knowing that all these innocent deaths were his fault, and his fault alone. With one final breath Corrigan died in misery and shame.
To start the story over please visit Harcore Casual : Create Your Own Azeroth: Prelude. Thanks for reading!