Prickly

  Fire has quered the former slums of Malencia, the natural result of being one of the first pces reached by Faerune, along with it being full of flora desdant from a dryad. A Faerune nobleman was tasked with handling this sector, his personal guard behind him. He spits on the ground, dissatisfied with having been sidered an auxiliary, but soles himself internally at the thought that he wasn't just left in reserve. He looks to the few houses left here, they are all pletely covered in pnts.

  "More heresy, burn it." His voice is emotionless, but his disdain is clear. His men begin to hold their torches to one of the many houses they buroday. Screams are heard from within the building, walls thin enough that both sides know what's going on. It matters not, this isn't the first house burned with people inside, and it could only be sidered the st as there's not much left in this sector.

  The troops of Faeruand ready outside to intercept arying to flee, some have started makis on who throw the most Malens into fire. As they are makis, a group of people watch from one of the burned out buildings, as they make for the perfect cover.

  "There, more of them, what do we do?" They aren't demons or Beyonders, nor have magical or ventional on experieher. They are the inhabitants of the slums, the many disasters that struck this region may be a natural result of its bad position withiy limits, but the ability to survive has e with that. Few within Malencia are so notoriously resilient nowadays as the downtrodden.

  "They don't look too tough, think we take them?" The man who suggested that gets a look from the others, but slowly they all start to pohe idea. They are all armed with various sharp and blual ons, another natural result brought about by the introdu of guns. The Malen guard no longer hings like maces military cleavers or swords, as such those ons all arrived on the bck market at a cheap price.

  The men make up their minds, and prepare to move. Shifting through shadows as the nobleman and his men are distracted by the burning building, they don't notice the men in their rear. Before anyone knows it, everyone is in position, and they all e from their hiding spots. One of the noble's men notices something is wrong, and they are quick to draons, but its already too te as the men had already surrouhem. Instantly beset from all sides, the troops are having a hard time fighting the desperate, and the noble unches a fre into the sky with what little magic he has.

  "Malen troops! Fight flory, fight for Faerune!" It would be heroic if any of that was true, but as it stands it's merely a mockery.

  Reinforts are quick to arrive, a group of actual Faeruroops that run through to quickly cut down the slum dwellers. pared to the main forces involved in this flict, they are rank and file on-fodder, but pare it to average men they are actual knights. Their officer brings a torch closer to one of the corpses to get a better look at the supposed Malen troops, and exhales in relief as he firms something.

  "False arm, these aren't Malen troops." The other men he brought also sigh in relief, plenty here are gd to be deployed to handle already taken areas.

  "What do you mean not Malen troops? They came at us with ons!" The nobleman is angry at the thought of his precious glory being taken from him. He might not rank high in the peg order, but he certainly ranks higher than some random officer from the Grand Army.

  "The most human foralencia are all equipped with thick coats and strange masks, not to mention they rarely used melee ons. All of them prefer those fancy ons from the west. Even worse, they tack when they aren't certain of victory." There are many things more that the officer wants to say, but he knows his station, so he prefers to leave them unsaid.

  Something breaks nearby, and from it quickly spreads a bck fog. The officer ands his men to form up, while the nobleman still tries to think of what happened. As the fog spreads, more hidden caches of the stuff begin to detonate. Random barrels tucked between ste areas, from uhe ground, and deployed by demons flying through the cover of smoke above. The officer holds his hands out to i some of the stuff, and notices it looks like some kind of bow up close. For a momeertains the idea of the fog harming them, but if that was the case, they would all already be on the ground writhing in pai, he 't help but feel like this is another Malen ploy.

  "Let's get out of here for now, it isn't safe he-" He's interrupted by a scream as he watches one of his me dragged to the ground by the poor sods they cut down earlier. Their wounds are still there, but that doesn't deter them in bringing down one of his men aing him alive. More corpses begin to shudder around them, and he quickly catches on to the purpose of the bow.

  The nobleman tries to flee in a panic, yanking on the reins of his horse. The horse is as panicked as he is, and instead of running aanics as undead attack without discretion. The nobleman is thrown off his horse, and quickly devoured by the horde, as the officer of The Grand Army calls for a retreat. In the end, these are simply untrolled zombies away from neancers, they shouldn't be much of a threat. The thought dies as the officer sees any zombie cut down without destru of the head es back up moments ter, ready to tear at the living once more.

  The retreat goes well initially, with his men taking plenty of distance from the hordes. Unlike zombies risen by other means, these zombies prefer to grab onto their targets befoing for a bite. A seemingly small difference, but if multiple do it they end up dragging their target to the floor. A horrifying way to die all in all, he would expeothing much from the Malens. From the houses emerge burnt corpses, their rage for the living as present as their unburned kin, a few men puke at the dispy, and one more is dragged down to the ground by the distra. The officer sees an alleyway that's clear of undead, and tries to signal to his men to retreat there for a better position.

  Keyword being try here, as he's run over by a bloodied horse. The vish decorations are still visible on the horse, signifying that it is... was the nobleman's horse. Risen again with a taste futs rather than grass, the horse bends down to devour the officer. He looks to his troops for aid, but they are all plenty busy with their own problems. The st thing he sees is a behemoth of blue metal ing from the alley he wao retreat to, crushing both the living and dead us treads without discriminating.

  Prickly