Darkness descended upon the Krag's base, smothering the usual rough-and-tumble noise that should have accompanied a victorious raid. Instead, it began to reek of unease, and tension that hung heavier than the freezing air.
Everyone looked cautious, their eyes weary and watchful, darting towards the, shifting tree line, as they instinctively formed groups of three or more.
Varga didn't like this.
The point of the oath of secrecy was to avoid looking tense and giving signs that they were aware. Did someone leak the plans? No. It was more likely, her fellow krags noticed the dark atmosphere that was building up. One might even say there was a collective feeling of dread that had fallen over the camp, much like snow of cold season.
Whatever the reason though, everyone was clearly not acting normally.
Thinking of the plan, her mind went to Arieus orders that the watch be more cautious, but still avoided increasing the numbers of watchers so as to show weakness.
He had also ordered for traps to be set outside and within the camp, pits of sharpened wood and prepped snarls all spread around the edges of the camp. He even went as far as to arm some Krags who would usually be armed with their blades or axes to now be armed with heavy steel hammers instead.
It was these newly armed warriors that were standing together to the side, testing their hammer weight with casual swings.
The weapons must have come from those Arieus had taken from the raid. Normally, Hammers were a popular weapon of choice for the krags. With their crushing force able to break shield and bone with terrifying certainty, but not many carried it within this particular warband, due to axe being a better choice when it comes to its versatility in the white wilds. As they were useful in cutting down both trees and heads with equal efficiency. A perfect single tool for both survival and slaughter.
Varga observed all this from the center of the camp, her breath pluming from the frigid night air. She continued to scan the camp from where she sat, as all the work was been done quietly and quickly, even with low numbers and bad mood. Which went to show the competence of her band.
"Stop that."
The annoyed shout came from the direction to her left, turning her gaze in that direction. She was met with the view of Tarlak and another young Krag by the name of Jorik. Both seemed to be digging a large hole, that was already deeper than they were tall.
"Come on boy, put your back into it" another older Krag, whose name if she remembered correctly was Harken barked at Jorik. Yet it was clear to Varga that it was the older krag who sounded more tired.
"You can come and help me, instead of standing there like a dying tree. Old man." Jorik replied while taking a pause from shoveling snow and dirt. Breathing heavily, he continued to curse at the older krag.
"We don't have time for this, the others are almost done with theirs" Tarlak snapped at the two Krags, his own patience frayed thin, while glaring at the Harken who was not shoveling.
"Calm down, am just taking a break, will be back to it soon." Harken said while gesturing in a calming manner, as he picked up the shovel lying beside him. "But I do wonder why we are digging holes in the damned snow; my aching bones are telling me something bad is coming."
"You will know soon enough, just get back to it." Tarlak grunted as he went back to digging.
Thunk … thunk
His shovel biting into the ground created a rhythmic sound that joined the others. For this digging scene was happening around the camp as some of her band mates were given orders to dig holes, with shovels, their axe or even their hands. It took sometime but finally; the pit was finished. It had been dug deeper than a Krag was tall, and was wide enough for five Krags to stand side by side in.
Now, all that was left was to wait.
Nothing had happened yet, but everyone seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation. Soon, it grew dark enough that it was hard to see more than twenty Tegs(paces). For does without her sight, the world shrank to just the circle of firelight, that were lit to brighten the camp, their flames dancing wildly against the darkness.
Varga used this time to look for Arieus. She found the war chief standing in front of the injured ward, gazing out into the dark woods, with a calm expression. His white fur cloak billowing softly in the cold wind, the pelts stirring like restless spirits.
The stench of rotting flesh and the sharp tangy smell of various herbs reached her as she approached, a truly sickening combination that every warrior had to get use to at some point. With that thought in mind, she reached Arieus side and turned to gaze at the woods too, feeling the weight of its presence.
"So... what do you think?"
She didn't reply immediately instead she kept scrutinizing the woods at the edge of the clearing, searching for any flicker of movement. The light from the fires pushed the shadows back all the way to the trees but didn't penetrate them, leaving the forest a wall of secrets.
"The plan is the rational choice, as long as you don't mind risking the lives of your injured warriors," she replied with a frown.
"Ah well, someone as to draw them out, and we both know the injured and dying are the best baits for them." he answered her, a cold and ruthless expression appeared on his face.
Varga growled in displeasure at that.
"I expected as much." She replied crossly.
"Just take your position and wait, Varga. If you're worried about your ratling then just make sure you do your part well," he replied calmly as he turned back towards the woods, dismissing her.
Varga frowned, but didn't reply and turned to leave, in resignation.
"Take care, Varga." Arieus said.
Varga stopped, his words giving her a moment's pause. "You too." She said simply and continued walking towards the pit were Tarlak was.
"So, when do you think it would start." Tarlak asked quietly, while his fists gripped his axe tightly
"Very soon, just keep your senses sharp and ready," she murmured back, her own ears still straining against the silence, waiting for the first sign of the eventual storm to come.
Varga and Tarlak went their separate ways, to their various positions, with only a brief nod passing between them. Varga headed over to a wagon, that had been placed in front of some crates, forming a makeshift barricade.
Once there, she took a seat on one of those crates, where she could see most of the camp but was hidden from sight. She then grabbed her bow; a new one she had gotten after her last one was broken by the armored bear.
One made from dark wood, it was given to her by Arieus upon his return, it felt smooth against her palm and had a good solid draw. On her lap, Ova's axe, its edge always hungry and promising violence.
After checking her weapons, she went still as her breathing slowed.
She waited.
The cold Norths wind blew her hair softly, carrying the scent of danger, of the trees, and of something faintly corrupt beneath it all. The forest was eerily quiet. A deep silence that felt more threatening than any noise.
The camp slowly ground to a halt, as all activity ceased. The majority of the band couldn't sleep as they all watched and waited. No one could blame them as agitated and cautious as most of the Krags were at this moment who would dare drop their guard when sensing danger. Right now, all hands were never too far from their weapons, and all eyes were glaring at the woods.
Some hunters patrolled the border of the camp in groups of three, their footsteps crunching softly on the snow, making sure nothing slipped through unnoticed, while acting as a false line of defense against the encroaching unknown.
Varga continued to seat there still as a lake, but she couldn't help but notice the patrol avoid the part of the camp were the injured were. Intentionally giving it a wide berth, as if leaving those inside to their fate.
Concentrate, clear your mind.
She sighed, calming her thoughts as she continued to wait, every sense stretched taut like a bowstring.
Time passed, as the moons continued their climb higher in the star-flecked sky, and as the campfires began to die down, their light fading to dull ominous glows of embers. Varga felt a chill, a deep unnatural cold that had nothing to do with the wind, and opened her eyes, she scanned the forest, her gaze piercing the gloom, and watched as a group of krags emerged from the dark woods and strolled into the camp.
Varga leaned forward, her muscles beginning to tense, as she watched the new group of krags carefully. She slowly took her bow, the body cool against her fingers, and fasten her axe to her back, the leather strap snug across her chest securing the weapon for easy access.
One might think everything seemed normal, and they were just coming back from relieving themselves in the forest. At least that's what one might think if not for there being seven of them, which was too many for such an activity, and as they moved closer to the light of the fires Varga notice several more oddities that screamed of wrongness.
It was hard to notice in the darkness, with the firelight dancing and distorting shapes, but these Krags were wrapped in little more than rags, tattered cloth that fluttered in the night wind, revealing glimpses of grey flesh beneath.
The next odd thing she noticed was how this Krags were unnervingly in synch. It was subtle, but they moved like they were aware of each other at all times, their steps perfectly matched, like one single being.
It was unnatural.
This strange Krags had already passed the camp entrance and headed towards the injured their pace unchanging. A small gust of wind blew past varga, stirring the snow at her feet into tiny whirlwinds, and brought a new scent with it. One that was foul and familiar.
Rot.
She strung an arrow to her bow, the feather fletching brushing her cheek. Then, rose to her feet and sighted on one of the creatures aiming for its center mass. Her world narrowed to the arrowhead and the shambling figure.
"Swiiiiiiiiii"
The call of a night bird, where issued from Varga's lips mere moments before an arrow flew from her bow with a sharp satisfying…
Thwip.
The arrow hissed through the air and impaled itself into the chest of one of the strange Krags with a satisfying crunch, knocking it down to the ground with a hollow wet sound.
Soon, another dozen arrows leapt out of the darkness from other hidden archers towards their targets. Her bird call had been the signal to attack.
The sudden shower of arrows fell upon the creatures with deadly force. Arrows slammed into their bodies and heads, thudding into unresisting flesh with dull meaty impacts. Most of them fell to the ground and twitched, jerking like broken human toys, their limbs splayed at awkward angles.
Just like that, they stopped moving and it looked to be over
If only it was that easy.
Then, like dolls pulled by a hidden string the strange Krags began to pull themselves back up onto their feet, moving with a jerky restless energy. The arrows sticking out from their bodies didn't stop them, or even slow them down, they seemed to be merely inconveniences. One after another, the ragged figures rose, and their pale milky eyes became fixed on the living.
A cacophony of wet and rasping unnatural groans filled the air, as the now obviously unnatural creatures burst forward towards their targets with a sudden shocking speed causing the nearby Krags to shout in alarm. As the sound of steel being drawn mingled with the groans.
"HAHAHA!" a booming mad laugh cut through the chaos.
Emerging from behind tents and wagons from where they had been hidden. Arieus rushed in with a joy frenzied Goruk along with several Krags, their own war cries echoing his. As they rushed to meet those creatures.
Arieus wielding his cleaver, in his right hand and a one-handed woodsman axe in the other. His white mutant fur cloak flapped behind him, as he lunged forward to intercept the undead, meeting their charge with his blade.
Yes undead, for that was what this creature were, the truth now undeniable: they were rot filled corpses wearing the faces of their former kin. Varga snarled in disgust and fury, her features twisting to match that feeling. This will not stand.
She leapt forward rushing to join Arieus who was already engaged in savage melee with the undead. He hacked them, while avoiding their wild clumsy attacks. His cleaver sliced into them, parting rotten muscle and brittle bone, and sent spurts of black tarry blood into the air, but that didn't stop them. They just kept coming. Mindless and relentless in their assault.
"POOOOOWUUUL" a long, mournful blast encored through the camp and night.
Varga stopped mid-stride, as she looked towards the camps entrance were the sentinels blew their warning horn, the sound echoing through the clearing. That's when she saw them, a second wave emerging from the tree line
"There are more of them than we thought," Varga growled at the sight before her, her grip tightening on her axe until the leather of the wrap groaned.
There were twenty more creatures coming out of the woods, with seven seeming to be welding some weapons. Rusted swords, chipped spears and dull axes that spoke of long forgotten battles. Every one of them was just standing still, their exposed rotting and pale skin clear for all to see. Some were Krags others looked like deceased humans, their features blurred by decay making it difficult to tell. Their hairless heads and horribly gaunt faces with pale white eyes that reflected their mad hunger glowed with a faint luminescence.
As if some unseen command was given, this new undead rushed the camp in a senseless charge. But before they met the sentinel, the undead fell for the various traps already prepared for them. They Fell into pits with sharpened stakes that punched through torsos, or into snarls that took their feet.
Yet, some still made it through, clambering over their trapped brethren with mindless determination, the unarmed ones leaping at the Krags sentinels with their bare hands, fingers hooked into blackened claws, and they made up for their lack of skill with pure speed and monstrous ferocity. A ravenous hunger driving them forward without fear or thought.
Varga turned her attention back to Arieus fight to see that the undead kept throwing themselves forward in a berserk rage, while ignoring any damage they took in the progress.
Arieus ducked under a wild swing from one of the creatures, and in the same motion, slashed upwards with his axe, taking its head off in a shower of decayed matter. The head bouncing away into the snow, as the body fell down unmoving. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to celebrate, because he was forced to withdraw as another rotting corpse came up from his other side to bash him with its fist, moving faster than its state should allow...
But Goruk intercepted it, batting the creature away with a mighty sweep of his two headed axe, the impact sending it spinning into a wagon, while returning a devastating backswing to another one that tried to take a swing at him, cleaving it from shoulder to chest.
Varga dropped her bow, letting it fall to the snow without a second thought, and switched to her axe as she met one of the undead Krag, its face a mask of rot where one eye sagged. It swung at her with a rusty blade that whistled through the air. She threw herself back, her boots slipping on the snow, to avoid the blow but ended up off balance and too close to another walking corpse. Its jaws stretched wide, revealing blackened gums and a grey tongue, as it groaned ravenously and swung a clawed hand at her side. The blow connected, the force caused a shocking burst of pain that drove the air from her lungs, and sent her spiraling across the snow, the world turning over and over.
While the creatures appeared to be an unthinking chaotic mob, they fought so well together they almost seemed to be in formation, flanking and surrounding with purpose.
As Varga got up and thought of how to best deal with them, the pack of walking dead split up, some circling the krags ,hemming them in and the others broke off and made a sudden dash for the injured still in the ward, their goal horrifyingly clear.
"Damnit"