All around you, the Crusaders drew their swords, the General's hand went to her axe, and the High Abbot began to give off the tell-tale gleam of the Light. Your hand went to your own sword, but something came to mind as you drew it.
The soldier (or rather, false soldier) was impatient. He had blown his cover once things looked as if they weren't going his way, rather than improvising in a less flamboyant manner. Not only that, but he had gone into pontificating the moment he was fed up with waiting. If you could get him monologuing, and keep him doing it to the point of distraction, then the situation could turn in your favor as he became focused on you. And though you were somewhat loathe to admit it, you were far better as a center of attention than a frontline combatant at the moment (not to mention that while the undead fell squarely in the "acceptable" part of "Thou shalt not kill," demons (which this creature almost certainly was) were more suspect, even though you were fairly certain that they weren't protected by the Commandments anyway. Better safe than sorry.
"I don't think you even had much of a plan, creature." You wove the Light between your fingers, shaping the threads into a Smite as you spoke. "I don't see how you could. I mean, you say you were planning to take my face, whatever that means, but now that's suddenly impossible? And how will you even make your new idea work if you succeed? I think you're bluffing, trying to intimidate us by giving off the aura of forethought where there was none." The initial answer, much to your chagrin, was a bolt of fel fire that you barely managed to dodge.
"Are you doubting me, girl?" There was a second voice under the original now, one that was deeper and rasping. "It would have been so simple. Get you alone for interrogation, put on a show of showing you were innocent, and then slip into your skin… it would have been glorious, all the changes I could cause." He was grinning under the helmet. "And don't worry, I'll make sure that you're heard. Most of what you say will be drowned out by the blood in your mouth, and I might cut out that insufferable tongue, but plenty will hear your side of the story. But who will take your word when the leaders of the Crusade are speaking against you?"
"And if you fail?" You let the question hang, and the soldier paused.
"I have no reason to believe that I will. I can outlast all of you, and you're locked in here with me." At that moment, you let the Smite fly, and the lower half of his helmet cracked, the left part flying aside along with shards of bone and scattered blood. The soldier's face was twisted now into a hellish parody of a smile, the jaw bone intact even with the cracks spreading through it. "And I don't have to worry about dying."
"I… What?" Abbendis seemed shocked. "An undead? In our ranks? How is that possible?" The rest of you, even the other Crusaders, stared blankly at her.
"You… do not see the magic, General?" The High Abbot sounded concerned.
"Which magic? I saw the man throw a fel bolt, and combined with the bindings there's the indication that he's a warlock." She sneered. "But an undead Warlock? In the Crusade? I don't understand!"
"Oh my." The soldier chuckled. "Is something wrong? Are the facts not lining up?" He was forced to scream by a flash of Light, and the High Abbot frowned drolly at him.
"You do love the sound of your own voice, don't you?"
"Going… to kill you… slowly…." was the only response.
"Not while I live, monster." Morlune charged, bringing his hammer down upon the creature's back, and there was the sound of snapping and the crack of bone. The soldier grunted, and raised his torso on his hands to look up at the paladin.
"I can oblige that, Commander. Just a moment." And then he stood back up, his legs bending at unnatural angles as he swung his sword clumsily. "Just have to make up for fine motor control with raw force. Not a terrible loss." He then swung, and Morlune was forced back several steps as the blade cut a full foot into the floor. Pulling it out with a single motion, the misshapen thing lurched forward again, even as you threw a Smite that should have shattered his shoulder and rendered his shield useless. Instead, it merely gouged a hole in deep enough to see the bone.
"Whatever this thing is, the body is more resistant because of it." you looked to the High Abbot. "Is there anything like this that has been seen before?" He stared at the sight before him, seemingly in shock.
"Never with intelligence. Even those Forsaken will typically be crippled with a broken spine, but this? This isn't mere resistance to damage, but continued manipulation of the body well past its natural breaking point! I've seen men with their backs broken, and they almost invariably never walk again! Perhaps the Scourge could do this, but not with any of their intelligent minions… Death Knights are still bound by the same physical realities as us, but with strength and basic resistance to pain…." He fell into confused mutterings and half-intelligible prayers. You offered up a few of your own in the hopes that you would win this battle. If you didn't…
You didn't want to go back. It had only been weeks now since you remembered falling unconscious on the pyre. The smoke had been a mercy. This beast would offer none.
No. This time, you weren't fighting for a greater cause. This time, you were letting yourself fight out of a selfish desire not to die. If He so willed it, it would be so, but you couldn't bear to go back into the living hell you had endured, let alone the new one this thing would surely conjure up. If you were to die, you prayed to God that He would, in His mercy, make it fast and relatively painless.
But you weren't about to simply let it happen without trying.
You threw another smite at the creature, this time tearing out a portion of its leg. It turned to you, and you could see the grin on the mangled remains of its face.
"I think it's time we thinned the numbers a bit. Don't worry, I have plans for you now, and I want to take my time making you suffer." Then it broke into a sprint, legs wheeling outward as it ran with its sword held high coming towards you.
[] Write in battle plan
