Mounted Mage Corps

The following day after the speech, Ralakor began his tour around the the city, the mages training grounds being the first of places he wished to visit. The mages had been notified before hand, and many were present. Ralakor arrived without his large party, except for the diplomat Yerazin who followed close behind and a wagon drawn by two skeletal horses.



The two undead approached within a few meters of the mages, some of the wizards where on their horses, while others stood. As Ralakor stopped, a mere three meters away, he waved his arm slowly, signalling them to come closer. Slowly and awkwardly the battle mages created a semicircle around the overlord. Many of the horses refused to come any closer, leading to a few mages annoyingly dismounting and walking closer on foot. Nodding once slowly in approval Ralakor reached out into their minds and began his teachings.



"I have come to teach you on how to effectively deal with the puppets of the beast. I fear, that our awakening has also brought the shards of the creature back into light, and so, it more likely try and regain its strength, the most effective way it has done this is by bargaining with the living into servitude in return for immortality. These people are not undead, so many of your spells will not work on them. Yet these unfortunate slaves also have many of the characteristics of the undead." Ralakor turned around to face Yerazin, a mute second was passed, Yerazin slumped his head and walked slowly forward, infront of Ralakor. He raised his arms, facing the crowd. Ralakor then summoning a blade from wispy shadows from within himself, stabbed Yerazin through the rib cage. With the point of the sword pointing out his chest, thin wisps of shadow coming off the black blade Ralakor again faced the crowd. Yerazin put his arms down and began to slowly turn on the spot.

"As you can see," Ralakor gestured to the now spinning diplomat, "Blades are of little effect on the undead, in this case, because there are no organs to puncture. In the slaves however, the body regenerates so fast that the blade wound is effectively useless. The same goes for burning, even dismemberment will not stop them for long, as the piece will soon reattach to the body, fully healed. That is what makes them so powerful. They may come at you with nothing but their bare hands but they will take you down slowly."

He waved at Yerazin, the shadowy sword unsolidifing into the shadowy form once again, where it then leaped onto Ralakor and was absorbed back into his chest. 

"This is why you are the most effective. Although you cannot kill them, you can slow them down or trap them. A freezing spell is effective, as well as a snare of some sort. It will not kill them, but it will let you accomplish your goal. Another, more straight forward way is complete incineration. They will eventually reform from this as well, but it will take time, let me reassure you."

He once again turned to Yerazin, who nodded at him and began to walk slowly towards the wagon. Where he flung a tarp that had covered the content from the environment off and onto the ground.

"To help you learn the best way to defeat them, I will be giving you a target that will act and look just like them."Intoned Ralakor as he waved his hand flippantly. Behind him the contents of the wagon flew out, and fell on the ground a few meters away. Ten separate piles of human bones where neatly placed on the ground in a row. His arms outreached Ralakor slowly raised his hands upwards, as he did the bodies behind him began to rise from the earth. As they formed into their actual shapes Ralakor quickly moved his hand from one side of his body to the other, pointing at the now standing skeletons. Shadows leaped from his finger into the waiting dead. Slowly, the black shadows completely covered them, the white bleached bones no longer showing. Ralakor made a fist with the pointing hand, and suddenly the shadows condensed in the shapes of ten different people, flesh, clothes, and all.

"They do not look like they are under any curse. But I assure you, they have no control over themselves. Now let me see how you deal with them."

Ralakor watched as the mounted mages began to fire their spells.

First was the ice blasts, a tactic that the enemy had used on them in the great war and was just as effective. As the psuedo slaves's feet where frozen, the creatures would simply pull with so much force as to dismember their feet from their legs. Where they began to hobble forward on stumps. Next came the earth traps. Ralakor watched in amusement as the mages fired of the snare. Massive spikes grew from the ground and impaled the first few hobbling targets. They hung there, the spike inserted straight from below and in some cases exited out of their open jaws. As the second rank began to advance slowly, hobbling along the impaled targets began to wiggle and twitch. Slowly pulling themselves out of the spikes, it took time but slowly the began to free themselves. Finally came the sticky blast. This was something that Ralakor had not seen before, and he wondered how it would work. As it fired into the group, the green tar like substance covering the ten slaves. A faint sizzling feeling could be made out, it slowly buried through the skin of the dead and began working on the muscles below. It was taking its time though. The regenerative qualities slowing down the process remarkably.

Yet they continued to advance, much slower now then when they began, but still a threat. Ralakor nodded his head in approval, they were slowing them down that's for sure but the creatures where still coming. They must be completely destroyed, otherwise they will continue their onslaught.

Ralakor watched as the three mages worked together to create the firey inferno. It was quite an impressive display of power. When the fires died down all that was left were piles of ash in the ground. The skeletons where no more. 

Yet even now, the bundles of ash began to move around, clumps of black ash would begin to from together. 

Ralakor turned back towards the mages. "That was impressive, as you can see." He pointed towards the moving ash piles. "Even your inferno did not destroy them completely. Even now they are beginning to reshape but you have bought yourself time to finish your goal. Remember that you can not win a battle of attrition with these puppets. They will whittle you down and you will fail. Instead, you must be more devious. Bury them or try and find the shard in control of them. Without him, they will no longer be under his power. Some may continue to fight you, while others will become mad at what they have done. 

He held up his hand once more, pointing towards the piles of reshaping ash. Slowly black shadows oozed out of the ash pile, and began to lazily float like mist back to Ralakors outstretched arm. All that remained where the same ten piles of bones as before, unchanged from magical bombardment. 

"Magic and alchemy are the only two main weaknesses of the slaves.", Informed the overlord, "You are all the most important part of any battle plan as you are one of the few people that can harm them. The beast realizes this, and as such, the moment you show your powers. You will be targeted the most. So use them sparingly." He then nodded towards the diplomat, "I will be leaving now, to tour the rest of your land. Yerazin will remain, he will teach you the finer points of battling them."

Ralakor then turned and began to walk slowly away from the mages, the ground where he had stood, brown and dead.

Before he could leave, one of the mages stood up. "Wait." He said. "This land is indeed full of magic, but we never realized that this magic could harm those in other realms if used irresponsibly. In another few hundred years, another Chaos mage may appear yet again, and he or she will very possibly wield powers like what you described. We will record your story in the Wizard's Tower so that, at the very least, we will not be responsible for such a tragedy."

His story was well told and tragic, and would become part of the wisdom of the Land-Tillers.