These events take place before Rise of the Obsidian Legion.
The powerful pounding on the doors just outside the chapel is just as loud as our battle with the zombie. I can hear the hate with each scream and every clubbing blow. Then there is the sound of splintering wood and the cry of this beast does not quiet, it becomes more terrible.
I then realize this foe in front of us maybe the least of our problems. We need to work fast to bring the undead down.
As I manage to get in behind the zombie I realize this must be one of Novak’s creations. It just has to be!
Feeling the rage Randal felt at seeing all that carnage earlier, I reach behind my back to the sheath that holds that ebon blade. Surprisingly, it is warm to the touch. I draw it and my handaxe together, striking at vital points in an attempt to slow the creature’s movements. As I slice into its hide my brand of The Restless Hand feels as warm as the blade itself. What happens next is unexpected, the weapon’s touch turns corrosive like acid, burning through the skin.
The monster howls out in pain from the wound. Attacking in a sweeping arch, my allies leap back from the greatsword. Completing it’s spin, the weapon comes around slicing clean through my leather armor and drawing blood. I stumble backwards. Before it can take a step in my direction flames erupt from behind it. Another painful howl escapes its mouth but is drowned out by hateful screaming that now fills the room.
I see Lithia step back into the pews of the chapel from her area of safety. Her face reveals the pure terror she is experiencing. Our foe turns its head to see the new combatant. Before I can look myself the beast starts it’s thunderous charge causing the chapel’s pews to splinter and fly in its wake. The massive body in front of me blocks my view. I can barely hear Dundragon’s warning over the screaming of this unknown foe let alone Balasar’s roaring challenge at it.
Whatever it is goes crashing into the wall but never slows the furious run. I can see it’s bulking shoulder just past the zombie.
Is that a severed hand impaled on a spike, loosely bouncing around?
Tiny white spots dot its grayish green skin. Eyeballs?
Are those eyes?!?
The distraction is enough for the zombie to sweep me aside with its sword, knocking me aside and directly into this abomination’s path. I lose my train of thought at the site of it. It’s eyes are wild as if it has gone mad. Drool flings from the massive maw freshly painted with blood. All the severed limbs swing left to right, bounce up and down, as it rushes me. It’s stench is repulsive. In mid run it snatches me up in it’s massive hands, screaming hate into my face.
The most enormous orc I have ever seen has me in its clutches. It’s mouth opens wide, revealing teeth as sharp as knives as it pulls me closer.
All I can think about is this is some sick creation of Novak that he is using to get back at me.