Orgeeg knew what despair was like, he had trained in the ways of the Remu Masters and knew how to overcome any emotional barricade that might prevent him from fulfilling his duty. Raw tenacity and the capacity to prevail were his strong suits after all and he would like to believe them to be the sole reason he was the Rank One of the Royal Black Guards.
But in that glade, before the undead. Despair developed a new meaning. Dulab was the perfect air of ease beside him, barely showing even the slightest hint of distress, it was like he'd gone outside for a walk and had come upon some grotesque creature that drew sorrow from him in the slightest of ways. Dulab was totally calm and collected and his long sword barely even trembled in his grasp yet Orgeeg felt like the world had ended and he was only moments away from ending with it. His sword arm shook ferociously like a twig before the east wind.
He watched Masutap charge, too afraid to even trail in her wake. He watched her plunge into the horde of undead, a scream emanating from her as she was swallowed up by their deathly silence. They worked methodically, as if sharing the same mind, they surrounded her and worked on her from different sides, she was doomed. She was—
"Your train of thought is weighty with fear." Dulab said, drawing him free of his reverie. "Observe the mind's eye." He instructed.
Orgeeg calmed himself with deep even breaths, Masutap was holding them off, preventing them from charging towards where he and Dulab stood. He breathed and sought a place of silence within. He closed his eyes and sought a moment of peace from the past, and he saw himself floating upon the Rankf Sea, the one place he found peace within the realm. His mind's eye opened and suddenly the undead were just another foe. Just different in the way they should fall, but how can they fall? Sliting throats and puncturing flesh did nothing. And his short sword couldn't decapitate so he needed—.
An undead flew from where Masutap fought them, its head smashed in with a punch that rendered it senseless, all it could do was twitch on the ground. Masutap had the Jojoh Meena meaning her strength was enough to shatter the skull of the undead.
Mastering himself, he spoke. "We aim for the limbs and the legs, severe tendons and joints. Puncture knee caps and blind them. Make it easier for Masutap to hit their heads." He said.
Dulab smiled and together they charged. Masutap wasn't employing the Forms of Combat, she moved quickly, employing all her limbs to keep her in a steady motion that prevented her from being overrun and dragged down. She would grab the weapon of one of the undead and use it to cleave heads before the weapon stuck through skulls, forcing her to abandon it then she would dive and force a way to prevent being circled. She'd noticed too, he could tell, that damaging their brains significantly didn't kill them but instead prevented them from moving.
Dulab enforced a Form of Grind, going in low and cutting through hamstrings that rendered opponents unable to stand. Orgeeg, breathed evenly, eyes focused on the dark silhouettes of the undead, he let out a cry and plunged in their midst and in that moment of fear, an emotion bubbled to the brim of his conscience. A feeling of total abandone and with it, rage.
The short blade couldn't be wielded in the double hand but he plunged it through the lower jaw of one of the undead, making sure the tip of the blade pierced through the undead's upper skull. This didn't cause significant damage to the undead and it lunged at him, he let go of the blade and rolled out of reach. His feet touched something, steel, he picked it up and found it to be a long sword. He smiled and gripped the hilt in both hands.
On the mornings when he couldn't risk oggling at Dahli as she practiced with the sword. He would watch Desan instead. The once Prince of Binoria was one of the most adept at the Form of Rage. He planted his feet apart, turned in two motions, a lower strike at limbs and an upper one at the heads of those surrounding him. He grunted as the blade bit flesh. He circled, blade going neither up or down but in a cylindrical pattern that waved outward and inward and with deft movements focused on precision and strength.
And where the blade moved, it bit flesh. The arms of the undead that stretched out to him were severed. The undead that charged him were gutted, falling back to charge again with their intestines tripping their feet. He refused to acknowledge that his foe could not die. Indeed such a train of thought would only extinguish his rage. He flowed through the motions of the rage stance, focusing on power and might and he soon found himself fighting back to back with Masutap.
With their backs pressed together. The former Rank one and the current Rank one of the Royal Black Guard focused their attention solely on their foe. Neither bulging but moving in a fluid motion that ensured the enemy lost something. Whether it was a limb, or sight, or the absolute shattering of a skull, their motion never ceased, with Orgeeg ensuring the undead could not press and Masutap ensuring the undead cannot function due to her strength and well timed blows to the head. Soon they found themselves standing in the glade, just the two of them. Around them bodies thrashed on the ground, missing limbs and shattered skulls. Many had been injured by Orgeeg's deft sword play, injuries that would have been fatal but for now only served to render the foe incapacitated.
Back to back they stood heaving. Masutap observed around her. "They still refuse to die." She said, thin sweat sheathing her face. Even one with the Jojoh Meena found difficulty in keeping up with the undead. The undead lay on the ground, some thrashing and some moving in sudden miniscule jerks. They made not a sound yet their every motion was aimed in inching closer their way.
A groan sounded.
Masutap and Orgeeg turned to the outskirt of the battle where Dulab lay, the hilt of a blade protruding from his stomach.
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