Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25038310-20160529172721/@comment-25038310-20160721133552

Abello placed a hand on Gwector's, pushing it away with his last bits of strength. Perhaps it indicated a reluctance - a willingness to die and leave the group of Undead. Perhaps Abello realized it was futile and did not want to waste any of the healer's magicka.

It was hard to figure out what was exactly going through his head as he coughed, staining the inside of his helm and the healer's hand in a layer of blood. He gazed skyward for a moment, before redirecting his gaze at the shocked Josephine, who still could not manage to move.

His head dropped as life escaped him.

''"You're joking." Linde said as she turned to Abello. The small group of Undead, inexperienced and frail as they may be, had closed in on Jehanna.

They sat on top of a smooth grassy hill, looking from afar at Lord's Abode, as the city was dubbed in Elvish. Tristan, not hailing from Summerset, had also referred to the city as such multiple times and the name hadn't escaped anyone's memories.

"Not at all," Abello said as he placed a hand on the top of his helmet and smirked at the woman, although it remained unseen under his bascinet. "I have known many, but I was once a jester for a particular duke. I wonder where he may be now, but I told many a joke and sang many songs in the beautiful halls of Dukedom."

"Yeah, right." Tristan interrupted, much to Abello's annoyance. "You told us you were also once a bodyguard for Lord Leofrick's boy and wrote poems for a troublesome princess!" He remarked as he chuckled.

"Quite so!" A voice added, belonging to one of the youngsters that travelled with the group. "You told me you once stole a king's party crown when he looked down!"

"That was a song! And the other is a mere alternative tale, I assure you!" Abello exclaimed, although the tone of his voice did not seem to suggest he spoke the truth.

" And when the king looked down,

The court room had to be adjourned,

But T'was I, the jester, who stole his crown!

The royals left no stone unturned

And the queen and the king did frown,

When no headpiece was found!"

((Slight alteration to a pretty good song. Ill be dissapointed if noone knows this.))

"A ridiculous poem, song or jest it is indeed." Tristan muttered.

"But why'd the jester steal the king's crown?" A child, barely in his teens, asked Abello. The other children and youngsters bombarded the poet with similar questions, and soon a large chunk of the group was sitting in a circle around him.

This continued for the rest of the night where Abello entertained those who cared to listen with other songs and poems, such as the blade of Knight-King slaying an army in one fell sweep of his sword, a witch seducing a warrior only to be cheated of his sword arm and a prince who cured his sick mother by stealing a potion from a sorcerer.

Abello recited and sung these tales in full and answered any questions to the beat of his ability. Linde listened closely as well, clearly enjoying his ramblings and stories. This went on for a while, before Linde rested her head against his shoulder, exhausted and tired.''

Abello's body slowly sank into the ground as he seemingly faded away, streaks of black and white covering his corpse as he dissapeared before everyone's very eyes.

______

A good number of the black knights had been slain, but now the clergymen had gotten mixed up again.

As the volley of fireballs continued, they suddenly stopped.

A shrill shriek could be heard as a figure draped in black coursed through next to the wall, flying over the Undead and black Knights alike. The familiar visage was masked by a mask. The dismal Saint had no wings, only clutching his staff and spear.

The clergymen, every single one of them, collapsed to the ground with a sickening cry, seemingly the cause being their superior. Their bodies softened into black sludge, which coursed through the air in a manner similar to that of the Saint.

Before they could do anything, the sludge was thrown towards the Undead due to the Saint harnessing the alteration magic Telekinesis. They found their movement reduced and limited, their arms weakened and their stamina swiftly dropping.

The same went for the black knights, although they were sturdier than most of the Undead, and still outnumbered them.

______

Glorfindel followed Fyr, who headed towards the same bell tower that was used to acces the High Wall.

"Now friend," Glorfindel said as he ascended the steps. "Up above is an invisible bridge, leading to the High Wall, constructed by an Illusionist. You must have some faith in yourself and trust us! Step on our steps and tread carefully!" He cried out as he continued.

"The others are most likely still fighting the dismal Saint! We must hurry!"