Act II – Episode 54

Dawn.

Emma, Bailin and Skayne watch as the last traces of blood-red colouring fade out of the early morning sky.

Emma rubs the sleep out of her eyes and yawns. It has been a long night.

“I wish we knew what happened,” Skayne says, staring intently into southern sky as the sun chases the eerie maroon hue over the horizon.

“Whatever it was, it’s over now,” says Bailin.

“Do you think a Goddess died?” Emma asks.

The two Shinkae think a moment. “Its hard to say,” Bailin finally answers. “Things don’t…feel different. It doesn’t feel like anything has changed.”

Skayne nods in agreement. “But whatever it was, it was violent. I haven’t seen a sky like that since Lucistra almost killed Arelia.”

“April,” Emma says to herself. She still can’t get used to April’s other name. Her Goddess name. For the first time in weeks, Emma is overcome by a sudden and intense feeling of homesickness.

Skayne climbs to her feet and stretches her wings. “I think we should see if we can-…”

There is a sudden, deep rumble.

“What was that?” Emma asks.

Skayne and Bailin offer no answer. Their eyes glow white, their faces intense.

There is another rumble, this one more violent than the last. The tower shakes. There is a crash from inside as something falls over.

“Girls??” Katerina’s sleepy voice rises from below. “Girls, where are you?”

Bailin and Skayne snap out of their trance. “Come on!” they shout. They grab Emma by the wrists and spread their wings.

“Where are we going?” Emma asks as the Shinkae lift her off the balcony and glide towards the front door of the tower.

“Basement,” Bailin says simply.

The tower shakes again. There is a loud boom! and an explosion of dust. An enormous fissure opens up under the western side of the building.

“Torgoth stirs”, Skayne says as they fly through the door and down the stairs toward the basement. The basement is filled with a blinding, orange light.

In the ancient stone halls far beneath Katerina’s tower, the God of Destruction awakens.

Credits:
Bailey and Skye by Thorne
Jolina by Stormi
Hair by Koz
Grace Lion Hair by Quarker
Sassy 2 Hair from DAZ
D20 Gear by Bobbie25
Fairy Clothing by karanta
Clothes by BATLAB
Posed in Poser Pro
Rendered in Vue 8 Infinite

Act II – Episode 53

“Now,” General Riglak orders. The orc standing at the entrance to the escape tunnel takes a deep breath, lifts the horn to his lips, and blows. The sound is low and mournful, almost deafening in the tunnel’s cramped confines. A set of four bells ring out from deep inside the Kindred fortress: the fifteen second warning.

Orcs file into the escape tunnel; some bitter and desperate; some injured; some carrying the dead or wounded across their shoulders; all of them troubled by the thought of having to abandon their camp to the undead army. As if to mock their thoughts, there is a mighty, rending crash as the front gate finally gives way. Trolls and undead rush into the Keep. Trolls lob grenades at the small groups of orcs still making their way toward the escape tunnel. The courtyard bursts into flames.

“It’s time,” Riglak says, her voice tense as she watches hundreds of dark, twisted figures rushing across the courtyard towards her.

The horn blower raises the horn to his lips, and blows it for the final time. Zero seconds.

Riglak points at the young orc to her left. “Now! Do it now!”

And with a single pull of the rope, the tunnel entrance collapses in a mighty hail of stone and dirt.

The escape tunnel is sealed.

Kindred Keep is lost to the undead.

Credits:
Orc by Ghostofmacbeth
Curio’s Keep by Curio

Notes:
Escape tunnel modelled in modo 401
Posed in Poser Pro
Rendered in LightWave 3D 9
Rock ecosystems rendered in Vue 6 Infinite
Normal maps made using CrazyBump
Composited and postwork in Paint Shop Pro Photo X2

Act II – Episode 52

Undead storm over the walls of the Kindred fortress. The air is thick with screams and the thud of metal against bone. Suddenly, a shrill bell rings out. Captain Margull looks up at the mountains overlooking the valley. He spots the bonfire. Savuk’s signal.

“That’s it!” he shouts. “Fall back! Everyone fall back!” Around him, orcs begin slowly to make their retreat away from the battlements. Two zombies poke their rotting, hideously deformed faces over the walls and are instantly dispatched with a hail of arrows.

Below him, a deafening racket rises up from the gate. Metal shrieks. Trolls swear furiously. “They’re getting through the gate!” someone in the courtyard yells. Orcs come from everywhere, changing direction mid-stride to defend the failing gate.

“No! No!” Margull shouts, pointing back towards the depths of the Keep. “Fall back! Fall back to the tunnel!”

“They’re getting through!” a desperate spearman shouts back at him. He hurls his spear at the gate, desperate to hit something. Anything.

The low bleat of a war horn suddenly echoes through the Keep, followed by a single bell.

“Doesn’t matter!” Margull shouts back. “Everybody fall…” he pauses as something grips his ankle. He leaps out of the zombie’s grasp and skewers the back of its skull with his sword.

Orcs and zombies run in every direction. A handful of orcs run blindly towards the escape tunnel, their spirits broken. A group of archers on the far side of northern battlement continue fighting unabated, apparently unaware that the evacuation signal has even been sounded. One orc limps slowly toward the tunnel, his leg a twisted mess of gore and exposed bone. A passing swordsman stops to hoist him across his shoulders.

The war horn sounds again, followed by two sets of bells.

“Sixty seconds!” Margull shouts. He takes a swing as a pair of quick-moving zombies leap off the battlement beside him, but they disappear into one of the towers before he can reach them. He takes a step to follow them, but catches himself. There is simply no time. “Sorry, boys,” he mouths silently, thinking of the two archers still stationed at the top of the tower.

The archers around Margull start to hasten their retreat, all the while firing arrow after arrow at the seemingly never-ending stream of zombies climbing over the battlements. Behind him, there is a roar and whoosh of flame as one of the trolls’ grenades lands in the courtyard. Several unlucky orcs howl in pain as the fireball engulfs them.

“Come on, lads. It’s time,” he says to the row of archers who have assembled to defend the gate. “Nothing we can do now. We have to go.”

The archers look at him forlornly, the thought of leaving the Keep undefended not sitting well with them. But they know the Captain is right. They fire one last volley towards the mass of undead flesh straining against the gate, and then begin their retreat.

The horn sounds again. Three sets of bells.

Thirty seconds until the escape tunnel is sealed.

Credits:
Orc by Ghostofmacbeth
Curio’s Keep by Curio
Old Wooden Cart from free stuff

Notes:
Posed in Poser Pro
Rendered in Carrara 7 Pro
Additional models created in LightWave 3D 9
Normal maps made using CrazyBump
Rendered in 10 separate layers
Composited and postwork in Paint Shop Pro Photo X2

Act II – Episode 51

“DAMN!”

General Savuk skids to a stop in a pool of Kiana’s blood and slams his axe to the ground. He looks up at the blood-red sky and roars with fury.

Chatra flinches at the sound. He tries to climb to his feet, but is prevented by the pain shooting up his arms. He collapses back to the ground and moans sickly. “I’m sorry, sir,” he says. “She was too strong for me.”

“No, son,” Savuk replies, helping Chatra to his feet. “You did well. You did very well indeed.”

“Well….thank you, sir.”

“We just didn’t get here in time,” Savuk says. He glances down the hill at the other fallen orc, Jafor the swordsman. Jafor lies in a twisted heap, his spine snapped in two. Marls – the medic – crouches over him, his hands clasped, dripping some kind of sweet-smelling liquid between Jafor’s curled, quivering lips.

Behind Jafor, the undead army storms over the walls of the Kindred fortress. Fights break out along the battlements. Trolls wail and bash their shoulders against the front gate, the iron bars beginning to give way underneath their enormous weight.

It won’t be long now, Savuk thinks. Time to go. He picks up his axe and waves it high in the air, signalling the orcs stationed on the mountain behind him. There is a faint flash of light as one of the orcs returns the signal. A few moments later, a bonfire roars to life on the mountain top.

Savuk turns his gaze back to the Kindred fortress. Shrill bells ring out over the sounds of battle. The evacuation signal.

Savuk draws a deep breath. A bittersweet moment. The plan worked; they were able to draw Kiana out of Arcanor, using themselves as bait. But in the end they did little more than wind her before she managed to escape. And below them, the Kindred fortress was barely minutes away from being overrun. Its loss was always inevitable, Savuk knew that, but he had hoped to bring a prize with him to the rendezvous point a few miles up the coast: Kiana’s severed head.

Again, Savuk glances down at Jafor’s twisted body. So…was it worth it?

Beside him, Chatra sways on his feet. “Will you be okay, son?” Savuk asks, putting a steadying hand on Chatra’s back.

“Yes…uh…sir,” Chatra stammers, trembling, his face covered in sweat. Suddenly he doubles over and vomits vigorously onto the rocks. “Just gotta throw up a couple of times.”

Savuk pats him on the back then walks down the hill toward Jafor. The medic looks up at him and shakes his head gravely. Savuk notes the medic’s pouch lying open on the ground nearby, and the empty vials of kaslekk extract lying next to it. Enough to kill.

A strange peace falls over the scene.

Savuk takes the dying soldier’s hand and sits with him, talking gently, until he dies.

Credits:
Orc and suit by Ghostofmacbeth
Posed in Poser Pro
Filters forged by Filter Forge
Bumps made crazier by CrazyBump
Rendered in LightWave 3D 9 and Carrara 7 Pro
Composited in Paint Shop Pro X2

Notes:
Bags of lollies consumed during creation: 3

Warning: Blood

Act II – Episode 50

There is a sickening crunch as Kiana snaps both of the orc’s wrists. The dagger slips out of his hand and falls harmlessly to the ground.

“AARGH!” Chatra groans, almost passing out with the pain. But, to his credit, his arms and legs remain firmly wrapped around Kiana’s torso. He glances down the hill. His eyes fall on Savuk, sprinting up the incline towards them, no more than 50 yards away now.

“Release me!” Kiana growls through gritted teeth, her voice thick and wet. She coughs. Blood flies from her lips. “Release me right now!”

“I don’t think so,” Chatra hisses, his eyes shut tightly, trying desperately to dismiss the pain from his mind. He flinches as Kiana twitches, causing the bones of his shattered wrists to grind together. “Why don’t you stay? Just a little longer. I’m sure the General would love to meet you in person.”

Kiana looks down the hill. Savuk is there, ever closer, his eyes trained firmly upon her skull, his enormous axe glinting savagely in the strange, blood-red light.

30 yards.

She struggles in Chatra’s grasp. He tries to sieze the folds of her clothing, but the pain in his wrists is too great. He slips. He loses his grip.

Kiana siezes the opportunity. With a mighty roar, she launches herself out of her attacker’s lap and skitters away on all fours. Chatra reaches out, desperate to stay in contact – Just one fingertip would be enough! – but it is too late. He sways…and falls. He throws out an arm to balance himself, and lands squarely on the splintered bone of his left wrist. He howls in pain.

Kiana continues her awkward, crab-like crawl across the rock. Away from her attacker. Away from Savuk.

10 yards now.

Too close, too close!

She starts to trans-exist.

Chatra’s voice in her mind: “Cruelty?!” he spits. “Bah! Goddess of Cowardice, is more like it. Stay! Finish the fight! Earn your title, you gutless wench!”

A chilling, immensely powerful voice reaches back to Chatra’s mind. It is a far cry from the panicked, pleading voice he had heard just moments earlier. “Your time is short, Chatra,” she says. “Your deeds today will not be forgotten. You will die a slow, lonely, painful death. And your suffering will not end there. Your rotting corpse will hang from the arches of my palace for all eternity. I will find new and inventive ways to torture your soul. You will never, ever, be at peace. The next time you see me, you will beg for my forgiveness. You will…”

“Oooh!” Chatra gasps mockingly. “Actually…the next time you see me, I’ll be plunging something large and heavy through your putrid skull.”

A brilliant white light envelopes Kiana’s body. She can feel the cold stone of her palace floor beneath her feet.

“No!” Savuk cries, just 5 yards away now.

The white light draws Kiana into its depths. To Arcanor. To safety.

A moment later, the light fades, leaving nothing behind but a few puddles of her blood.

Credits:
Angels Of Darkness by Stormi
V1 Catsuit from DAZ3D
Hair by Koz
Asia by Steffy
Mandy by Dark_Whisper
Posed in Poser Pro
Modelled in Hexagon 2 and LightWave 3d 9
Additional textures made using Filter Forge and CrazyBump
Rendered in LightWave 3D 9 and Carrara 7 Pro
Composited in Paint Shop Pro Photo X2

Notes:
If you look closely, you’ll see Mandy strung up by the wrists and ankles near the left-hand edge.

I bought some new toys! Carrara 7 Pro, Filter Forge, CrazyBump, LightWave 3D 9, and a whole bunch of plugins. Recession be damned!!

Warning: Blood

Act II – Episode 49

Time slows.

The orc slips the dagger into her belly. She ignores the pain, focusing intently on making a connection with his mind. Ah! There it is! The mind she finds is not the explosive cauldron of murderous red light that she expected. Instead it is cool. Calm. Intense with purpose. And very, very deadly.

“I am Kiana,” she whispers inside the mind. “I am the Goddess of Cruelty.”

The orc recoils. There is a moment’s pause, the dagger almost spilling from his fist. And then, once he realises the voice inside his mind was not simply his imagination, he replies: “Oh, hello. Is this the part where you beg for your life?”

Anger rages through Kiana’s mind. Insolence! Sacrilege! With an effort, she manages to suppress the thoughts before responding. “Your name is Chatra? You served me once. In Mordimus’ mighty army.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chatra replies. “So…I guess I’m supposed to be impressed that you know my name? Truth be told, I’m a lot more impressed that you’re still breathing with all these holes I’m making in your chest.” He plunges the dagger deep inside her rib cage.

“Stop that!” she snaps. She grabs him by the wrists, drawing the dagger out of her chest and wincing at the volume of blood that pours out of the freshly-opened wound.

“Damn, you’re…strong!” Chatra snarls, struggling vainly to break free of her vice-like grip.

“Yes,” Kiana says coolly inside his mind. “And I can give you powers beyond your imagination. Strength. Armies. Wealth. Join me! Take Mordimus’ place at my feet. Yes, Chatra: I see much power in you already. With me, we could rule this world. We could rule all of the worlds! Fulfil your destiny! Become my new Champion of Cruelty!”

Chatra’s mind falls silent.

Finally, he shifts his weight slightly. For a moment, Kiana slackens her grip on his wrists, believing he has accepted her offer. But then his dagger-wielding arm twists wildly, and she realises he is just trying to break free. The words that come back to her from the depths of his mind confirm her suspicions. “Less talk. More stabbing.”

“No!” she cries. “Insolence! Sacrilege! I am a Goddess of Arcanor! How dare you speak to me like this! A mere orc! A mindless pawn of a renegade general!”

“You filthy dog!” Chatra hisses savagely inside her mind. “You speak of mindless pawns? You enslaved my people! Tore us from our homes! Gave us to that dim-witted fool Mordimus to play with; the way a child plays with toy soldiers. We killed for you! I killed for you! I killed my own family, for no better reason than to give you the pleasure of revelling in their agony. I have listened to you for far too long; your words sicken me. You are a putrid and worthless Goddess, and you always have been. Ha! You know it’s true. Look at the other Goddesses. Look at their Champions! True paladins. Shining beacons of the values their Goddesses represent. And what do you have? Mordimus. The absurdity of it! A Champion of Cruelty? Bah! He is the champion of nothing but his own cowardice and incompetence. He is scum. Weak, worthless scum. And you know it! And why is he your Champion? Why did you choose him? Because…you…couldn’t…find…anybody…else.”

“I…” Kiana begins, but is cut short by a scream inside Chatra’s mind.

“SILENCE! I know the real reason behind this little parlay. I know you’re just buying time. I can feel your muscles tensing – your hands tightening around my wrists. Go ahead. Get it over with. I’m done talking with you.”

There is a long pause.

Finally, Kiana responds.

“So be it.”

There is a sickening crunch as she snaps both of his wrists.

Credits:
Angels Of Darkness by Stormi
V1 Catsuit from DAZ3D
Hair by Koz
Orc by GhostofMacbeth.
Posed in Poser 6.
Rendered in Carrara 7 Pro.

Notes:
My first attempt at modelling blood and sweat!

Warning: Blood

Act II – Episode 48

Kiana, the Goddess of Cruelty, stands upon a mighty rock in the wake of the undead army, watching with grim satisfaction as they press in around the beleagured Kindress fortress.

The sky turns blood red.

“Wha-?” she starts, as something blurs past her vision. “Was that…?” An arrow…

Pain explodes in her thigh as the second arrow finds its mark. She howls in pain, then grunts wetly as the third arrow slams into her rib cage. She stumbles, caught off balance by the surprise attack. She catches her feet and clutches a hand to her chest. Her fingertips are warm, wet with her own blood.

Dark, panicked thoughts tumble through her mind. Danger! Murder! I have to get out of here!

She starts to trans-exist. To Arcanor. To safety. She can almost feel the cold stone of her palace floor beneath her feet. A brilliant white light envelopes her body. She…

An arm wraps around her throat, choking off her air supply, pulling her back to Sarodor. And as the bright light fades, a huge dagger plunges into her side, slicing through her ribs like butter.

The orc assassin twists the blade, then pulls it free. Then he stabs her again. And again.

Blood squirts out of Kiana’s mouth. She slumps to the ground. Still the arm is around her throat, squeezing, preventing her from trans-existing away.

There is a thud near her feet. A second orc. He plants his feet and raises his sword high above his head, preparing for the killing blow. Behind her, the first orc continues to stab her over, and over, and over.

No, she thinks. I am Kiana. I am the Goddess of Cruelty. I will not die like this!

Waves of energy ripple through her muscles. She arches her back and draws her leg back, summoning every ounce of inhuman strength that she has left.

She kicks.

The sword tumbles from the orc’s grasp as he is launched skyward. She feels his hip crumble. She hears his spine snap in two. His body flies twenty feet before collapsing limply to the ground.

Three more orcs make their way up the enormous rock toward her. Her eyes fall on the rightmost figure. Definitely the leader of the group. Tall, immensely strong, a huge, double-edged sword clutched in his powerful hand, his grey mane flowing in the wind as he sprints up the hill toward her.

“Savuk,” she snarls.

Credits:
Angels Of Darkness by Stormi
V1 Catsuit from DAZ3D
Hair by Koz
Curio�s Keep.
Rawn�s Zombies.
Orcs by GhostofMacbeth.
Flame textures by RomanceWorks and Designfera.
Modelled and UV’d in Hexagon 2.
Posed in Poser 6.
Rendered in Carrara 6 Pro and Vue 6 Infinite.

Notes:
This was one almighty mother of an image to make!

You gotta love blood ‘n’ guts.

Act II – Episode 47

There is a slight rush of cold air as Kiana, the Goddess of Cruelty, takes human form in Sarodor.

She stands upon a mighty rock in the wake of the undead army, watching with grim satisfaction as they press in around the beleaguered Kindred fortress. Good, she thinks. Soon, Savuk. Soon your pitiful little rebellion will be over, once and for all. She tries to reach out to him, to get a sense of him, just as she has tried so many times since he made his intentions known to her a year ago. But, as usual, there is nothing. His heart is closed to her now.

Instead, her heart is filled with cries of agony from the battle unfolding before her eyes.

She hears the gurgling scream of Janik, a Kindred archer, as an undead warrior clambers over the battlement and locks its jaws around his throat.

She hears an unnamed troll, howling in agony as the grenade he was carrying is pierced by an arrow, engulfing him in flames.

She hears the sickening crack of snapping bone, as a Kindred runner loses his footing on a ladder, moments after delivering an important message to General Riglak.

Far in the distance, she hears the tortured cries of Mordimus, convulsing uncontrollably at the searing agony of the Necromancer’s deadly touch.

Yes, she hears all of their pain. And she fills their hearts with despair.

She widens her mind a little further…

She hears the twisted thoughts of thirty-five-year-old Walter, unbuckling his belt as he advances upon the terrified figure of John, his twelve-year-old son.

She hears twenty-five-year-old Dyfar and thirty-year-old Sabal, mocking the pleading cries of their victim Nadine as they tighten the ropes around her wrists and take turns beating her.

She hears forty-eight-year-old burglar Jason, moaning with anticipation as he approaches the cot, the shadow from his knife falling across the tiny baby’s sleeping face.

Kiana moans softly. The cruelty. It feels so…delicious.

She closes her eyes and savours the waves of pain rushing down the valley from the battle of the Kindred fortress.

She does not notice the orc creeping silently up the rock behind her, a dagger clutched between his teeth.

Or the second orc preparing to pounce upon her from the ledge above.

Or the three arrows sailing out of the darkness toward her.

Credits:
Angels Of Darkness by Stormi
V1 Catsuit from DAZ3D
Hair by Koz

Act II – Episode 46

Zopot opens the gate to the girls’ quarters and beckons them out. “It’s time,” he says. “General Riglak wants us to get moving.”

He is pleased to see them awake and packed, just as he had requested of them ten minutes earlier.

Though he has taken good care of them over the months, curing their illnesses, keeping them company, and even bringing them extra food and clothes whenever he was able, Lisa, the eldest of Simone’s two sisters, has never allowed herself to fully trust him. “Where are you taking us?” she asks now, wrapping her arms protectively around her younger sister.

“There’s a secret passage under the barracks,” he explains. “It will bring us out on the cliffs behind the fortress. We have to be careful: there is a ledge along the cliff face, but it is quite narrow and not well lit. Stay close to me and we’ll be fine.”

Lisa’s face tenses with fear. A cliff. She has been afraid of heights ever since falling out of a tree on her parents’ farm when she was five.

“Don’t worry, little one,” Zopot says, trying to calm her. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Instantly, the fear falls out of Lisa’s face and is replaced by anger. “Right. Just like you took care of our parents?”

Zopot stiffens. “I wasn’t involved in that.”

“Maybe not,” Lisa snorts. “But Savuk was. I watched him stab our father!” Her voice rises, almost screaming now. “I watched him stab him and stab him until he was dead! Is that what’s going to happen to us now? Is Savuk waiting behind the fortress? Waiting to throw us off that cliff?”

“No!” Zopot says, squatting down to the same height as the girls. “He’s not going to hurt you. None of us are. We’re not animals, Lisa. We do not harm the harmless.”

“Ha!” Lisa spits. “Didn’t stop you from killing my parents!”

“Your parents were not harmless! Your father was…” Zopot catches himself about to tell the children the truth about their parents. But they are not ready. And this is not the time or place for such a conversation. “Listen,” he says, calming himself down and putting a gentle hand on each girl’s shoulder. “We have to get going. The undead are coming. And if we don’t leave now, we won’t get out alive.”

He climbs to his feet and ushers the girls carefully down the corridor. “But this I promise you: when we’re safe, and when you’re ready, I’ll tell you all about your parents. You won’t like what I have to say, but you both need to hear it.”

“And who knows,” he says, throwing the girls a mysterious sidelong glance. “If Savuk’s idea goes as planned, you may both very well be free before the night is over. Goddesses give him strength.”

“What do you mean?” Eve asks. “What is Savuk doing?”

“He’s waiting out in the valley, behind the undead army. Waiting for that cowardly bitch Kiana to show herself. Kiana, the Goddess of Cruelty. She loves battles. It’s the pain, you see. The suffering. It gives her a thrill. She won’t let this chance slip without putting in a personal appearance.

“And when she shows up, Savuk’s going to kill her.”

Zopot takes a deep, awe-filled breath.

“He’s going to kill a Goddess.”

Credits:
Grace by Thorne
Britani by angielyn
Legends by .mada
Mystic Moon Hair by hmann
Orc by Ghostofmacbeth
Carrara props
Room and custom textures by me

Act II – Episode 45

Fires rage outside the Kindred fortress. Undead lurch and stumble through the walls of flame, heedless of the pain, untroubled by the blistering cracks opening up all over their bodies.

Atop the battlements, orc archers send arrows sailing into the night sky. “There!” cries Captain Margull, spotting a troll lumbering toward the gate. A volley of arrows brings him down. “There!” he cries again, pointing at a heavily armoured troll preparing to hurl a ceramic, fire-filled grenade over the battlement. The first volley of arrows lodge harmlessly in the troll’s thick armour. Margull swears loudly as his own shot flies wide of the mark. Suddenly, the troll howls in pain as an arrow pierces the grenade, engulfing him in flames. “Good shot, Private!” Margull shouts, clapping the young archer proudly on the shoulder. Make sure he’s one of the first to get out, Margull thinks to himself. Savuk will need soldiers like him. No sense letting him die here along with the rest of us.

A desperate shout brings Margull out of his thoughts. “Sir! Look!” one of the archers is shouting. “Ladders! The trolls are bringing up the ladders!”

Margull turns his attention once again to the advancing undead army. Yes, he sees them. Twenty, no…make that thirty sets of trolls, pushing their way to the front of the battle, enormous siege ladders under their arms.

“Runner!” Margull calls.

A nimble, lightly-armoured orc dashes across the battlement. “Yes, sir?”

“Find General Riglak. Tell her we have maybe twenty minutes until the undead are over the walls. Go!”

“Sir!” the runner salutes, then sprints away.

Margull turns back to the undead and looses an arrow at one of the ladder-bearers. “May the Goddesses be with you, Savuk,” he mutters under his breath. “I hope this crazy plan of yours is worth it…”

First published:
2 March, 2009

Credits:
Curio’s Keep.
Undead created using Rawn’s zombie textures combined with some random noise patterns and displacement.
Arrows are a particle system (it’s very cool to see them animated!)
Flame textures by RomanceWorks and Designfera.
Troll from DAZ3D.
Posed in Poser 6.
Rendered in Carrara 6 Pro