Snippet #1534079

Sarish scowled at Wrath as he hurried forward in a flurry of blades.

"I do more than just petty "Magic," you know!" He hissed as he held his dagger up in the air. It began to shine brightly, a sure sign that the ceremonial dagger doubled as his holy symbol. Quickly the shining made way to almost full blown daylight as pulses of warm positive energy began to wash over the immediate area.

"In His name, return to ash from whence ye came!"

The rolling waves of warmth grew warmer and warmer, as they radiated out and into the advancing undead. As they collided with the zombies, painful moaning came from their stiffened mouths. This was the closest thing to pain that they would ever feel again. Most of them stopped advancing, and cowered in place, a pitiful sight if ever there was one; Undead pleading for their lives. Sarish believed it was instinct for even the dead to do whatever was necessary to keep on "living," though they would receive no such leniency today.

As a couple mindlessly dredged forward and got closer to the source of the radiance, their rotting flesh began to smolder as if they had caught the full blast of a furnace's wind. The embers that caught from their skin began to burn brighter and hotter, and it was only a matter of seconds before the holy light that had set them ablaze finished the work, their body's now piles of ashes burned away by spectral fire.

Sarish advanced slowly with the blazing dagger, as holy light continued to shine forth, radiating onto any undead less than twenty feet away from him.

"Return ye to the earth, abominations! Be burned by the light! Suffer ye no more, lest ye be at bay by His holy radiance!"

He slowly made inched closer towards Wrath, though closing the gap at this speed was going to take a while. He could at least afford some cover for the other members of the squad before he had to pull out his big guns, so to speak.

"Legionnaires! Do not be caught off guard! The greatest advantage of the undead is their numbers! We must stay close and vigilant!"

---

Duran was right to hold his ground in the tall grass. It seemed that the forces that they had given a first blow to were undead. It was as though the enemy forces knew of their coming. It wasn't as though it could not have been a coincidence, but undead didn't normally just set up camp like the living, especially when tents were involved. It was probable that they had either been lured here, or that the enemy had found out their plans. It wasn't unlikely; Iriana had been a spy, and if she had gotten so close, it was possible that even higher ups could have been working with the dragons.

He had to be ready to cut down anybody, even a fellow legionnaire.

Duran was glad that he hadn't been too hasty in his attack. He didn't know much about undead, but he didn't much like the thought of rotten, reanimated flesh in his mouth. It seemed that the cleric had everything under control. though if too many more showed up, it could very easily become a problem for one cleric. He was unsure of how to advance. though he was relatively sure that magic might have been a boon over tooth and nail in at least this instance. If he really needed to, he could always return to his current form. Come to think of it, the weather was perfect for storm magic. Though the rain was magically conjured, it hardly mattered. The storm clouds made perfect for summoning lightning bolts. The rain would make it easier to dirt into mud. The wind would make for more powerful gusts.

"We must stay close and vigilant!" yelled the Cleric.

Before returning to his human form, he rushed to meet the cleric who seemed to be making easy work of the undead he came into contact with. Almost instantly, coarse fur peeled away from flesh, and the form of a panther gave way to a man once more. He drew a spear, and stayed close to Sarish. Were his magic to falter, Duran could pick up the slack until such a time that the lamia was once again able to turn the undead away.