Fire has conquered the former slums of Malencia, the natural result of being one of the first places reached by Faerune, along with it being full of flora descendant 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 considered an auxiliary, but consoles himself internally at the thought that he wasn''t just left in reserve. He looks to the few houses left here, they are all completely covered in plants.
"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 burned today. 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 considered the last as there''s not much left in this sector.
The troops of Faerune stand ready outside to intercept anyone trying to flee, some have started making bets on who can throw the most Malencians into fire. As they are making bets, 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 conventional weapon experience either. They are the inhabitants of the slums, the many disasters that struck this region may be a natural result of its bad position within the city limits, but the ability to survive has come with that. Few within Malencia are so notoriously resilient nowadays as the downtrodden.
"They don''t look too tough, think we can take them?" The man who suggested that gets a look from the others, but slowly they all start to ponder the idea. They are all armed with various sharp and blunt metal weapons, another natural result brought about by the introduction of guns. The Malencian guard no longer needs things like maces military cleavers or swords, as such those weapons all arrived on the black 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 come from their hiding spots. One of the noble''s men notices something is wrong, and they are quick to draw weapons, but its already too late as the men had already surrounded them. Instantly beset from all sides, the troops are having a hard time fighting the desperate, and the noble launches a flare into the sky with what little magic he has.
"Malencian troops! Fight for glory, fight for Faerune!" It would be heroic if any of that was true, but as it stands it''s merely a mockery.
Reinforcements are quick to arrive, a group of actual Faerune troops that run through to quickly cut down the slum dwellers. Compared to the main forces involved in this conflict, they are rank and file cannon-fodder, but compare 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 Malencian troops, and exhales in relief as he confirms something.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
"False alarm, these aren''t Malencian troops." The other men he brought also sigh in relief, plenty here are glad to be deployed to handle already taken areas.
"What do you mean not Malencian troops? They came at us with weapons!" The nobleman is angry at the thought of his precious glory being taken from him. He might not rank high in the pecking order, but he certainly ranks higher than some random officer from the Grand Army.
"The most human forces of Malencia are all equipped with thick coats and strange masks, not to mention they rarely used melee weapons. All of them prefer those fancy weapons from the west. Even worse, they never attack 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 black fog. The officer commands 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 storage areas, from under the ground, and deployed by demons flying through the cover of smoke above. The officer holds his hands out to inspect some of the stuff, and notices it looks like some kind of black snow up close. For a moment he entertains the idea of the fog harming them, but if that was the case, they would all already be on the ground writhing in pain, yet, he can''t help but feel like this is another Malencian 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 men get 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 and eating him alive. More corpses begin to shudder around them, and he quickly catches on to the purpose of the black snow.
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 away, panics 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 uncontrolled zombies away from necromancers, they shouldn''t be much of a threat. The thought dies as the officer sees any zombie cut down without destruction of the head comes back up moments later, 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 before going 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 expect nothing much from the Malencians. From the houses emerge burnt corpses, their rage for the living as present as their unburned kin, a few men puke at the display, and one more is dragged down to the ground by the distraction. 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 lavish decorations are still visible on the horse, signifying that it is... was the nobleman''s horse. Risen again with a taste for guts 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 last thing he sees is a behemoth of blue metal coming from the alley he wanted to retreat to, crushing both the living and dead under its treads without discriminating.