Chapter 3 Part 3: Scamps and Freaks

“Thoral we require your flames on those corpses before they turn to thralls or lesser scamps. Be wary my acolytes for the undead have made their mark,” grim faces filled the airship as the men gathered their strength and spells. Undead beget more undead when allowed to run rampant. Vampire thralls, scamps, and even fledgling new vampires were powerful foes, but their second awakening after death took longer than most of the living dead. If they hurried they could cap this infestation before it took root.

Though some of the bodies were already stirring. Particularly, one large sea dwarf with flowing tattoos, and a trident three times the size of his body that he wielded as if it was a spear instead of a pike. His silver steel armor was ripped from his torso as well as the majority of his white red haired chest. Xavos could see his will was too strong for a thrall or a fledgling so the power left from the souls escape into the heavens would be used to animate the corpse into a scamp. A being much like a zombie or a golem with no soul only emotional drive and control of its master with an unsatiated lust for blood.

There just hadn’t been enough time to bless all who may turn in their death to undeath. The task was also only as effective as the priest who did the ritual compared to the elder undead spreading their dusty poisons to the living. At least this one’s soul was not trapped in the physical plain.

“Undead? Now I know you're a luny governor. Undead don’t exist, everyone knows that,” The Mule had somehow managed to break her intimidation to annoy the men of action around her again. This time instead of dealing with the ignorance he dearly hoped did not permeate throughout all the living left in the world, Xavos pulled the woman to the open doorway and had her stare at the twitching scamp.

“That doesn’t exist!” She shrilled as her eyes bugged out of her skull, and the scamp jumped the final forty feet in an attempt to thrust his pike into her breast. The scamp exploded into a fireball, and fell back amongst the rising undead. Each piece of the body exploded again with bright red fire that only burned the flesh of the undead leaving the solid kiloth oak planks of the eastern mountain islands of the Great Gissldyll desert clear of scorch and flame.

Hard as steel and twice as flexible was the kiloth oak. The stubborn black as night and covered with specs of white like starlight could only be rendered by strong magic. Much industry and effort of mages had been needed to cut the trees to shape the boards, but like all wood they still burned with enough heat.

Any mage who knew the burning threshold on the bark could manage a spell to burn flesh and not the hardened wood. Thoral slapped an oversized hand on Therizen, another one of the acolytes who specialized in flame magic showing who had succeeded at the task. Xavos took grim pride at seeing another sign of his acolytes skills that far out reached their ages.

The impact on the boy’s shoulder made the youth’s bald head bob with the force of the friendly blows. The acolyte beamed even though the Paladin could see the sixteen year old would be bruised through his armor. One had to get used to friendly bruises when studying under Antain or any of his lieutenants such as Thoral. They often forgot their new strength under the tutelage of the Paladin schools that no longer existed. And as warming as the moment was the time for action had come.

“Listen here woman,” Xavos growled down at the Mule woman,” You will hold this ship here. If you leave I will let the scamps tear your flesh and leave you as a thrall to the vampire we hunt.”

With that last harsh, but necessary remark, the Arch Paladin Xavos led the jump down to the rapidly approaching deck. Even before his boots slammed onto the ship the bodies were burnt to the dark black and purple ash the undead always left on the field of battle when consumed by holy flame.

The Paladin of course had no trust for the Mule they’d left aboard the flying craft. This was a test to see if she would wait for her saviors, or attempt to abandon them on the burning vessel. Not the fairest of tests, but one had to know the metal of those they would lead. In reality there was no where that ship could fly in the next month and a half, even at full speed, that would prevent Xavos from portaling back into the ship now that he had entered her and felt her essence and spirit that all machines had. The Lina’s Flight was now a Paladin vessel no matter her engineer's desires.

A fascinating study, the spirit of the machine, one a man could pour over his whole life and never learn the full of. Still, now was not the time for a teacher, but of the guardian and butcher for the spirit of the Ark of Xarmon cried for aid in her agony.

The Arks being the majestic creations they were, had such a strong spirit that they were practically sentient like the isles of the Paladins’ were. The Ark of Xarmon brought his attention to an ignored hold to the left that he understood through her guesses led to a maintenance shaft which would take them three decks down and right to the battle.

“Thoral leave me Therizen and ten of your vanguard then follow the destruction, and burn every corpse with the stench of necromancy about them. I will be going to the aid of The High Kierter,” So saying Xavos ripped off the small trapdoor from its hinges, and jumped into the dark with the eleven of his acolytes and Micath close behind. The passage was tight to his side so that his white stained cape hampered their vision. The battle could be heard in the heart of the ship, and the Arch Paladin would not delay even another second.

The call of the Almighty was upon him and the savor of all mortal kinds gave him a lust to take the vampire’s head. Judgment came for the wicked. Some just saw the long arm of the creator sooner than others. Poor Micath, his work as the youngest and now last of his Honor Guard would have a difficult task ahead of him keeping this old Paladin alive.

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