Necron: The Legend Of Rezar DeathWind

The gates to rising snow city stood silent like a sentinel, an unshakable bastion that could not be breeched, surrounding by high thick walls fortified by magic and dwarven craftsmanship, the night was silent and extremely calm, but even with that there was a tension in the air that was thick you could almost feel it.

Elven and dwarven guards stood watch on the walls that were on top of the gate, they watched the jagged cliff face that made up the starting point of the Breone mountains. The mountains itself was pretty un-traversable with the only safe path being a valley like mountain pass that led to the summit and the towns, fortresses and finally the capital city of Sillomere.

The cold wind howled, it seemed to whisper of horrors unspeakable, there was a need to kill in the air, a bloodlust that was so heavy, laden with an aura of brutality and desolation. Many of the guards felt that they were just paranoid, but those of them who truly understood what was going on could only say one thing about the heavy feeling that was in the air. To them...this oppressive feeling felt like death.

"Mooooooaaaaaaaannnnnnnn"

At first it seemed to be a different pitch to the way the wind howled, it might have picked up speed or even slowed down. But ultimately it was unlike anything they've ever heard before. The dwarves and elves who stood guard in this city were not negligent of their duties, and now more than ever they were at high alert due to the threat of war. They were the first line of defense, and as such they were better trained than most.

It was the elves that heard it first, the silent shuffle of feet as they impacted the snow covered ground, the absence of breath, and the desolate sounds that began to pick and differentiate itself from the flow of the mountain wind. Their aerial seemed to make the wind pick up speed, their desolate green orbs flickering in the dark as they drew ever closer.

The first elf noticed them, a line of dead people moving and shuffling on their feet as if they were being pulled by some invisible strings, next came the goblins, and then the monsters and then more and more. In seconds it didn't matter which species they were, they all had one thing in common. One goal in their sight and one mission to achieve, one that not even the rapidly speeding up wind could stop them from achieving, they came here for death, and they brought a snow storm along.

"UNDEAD!"

The shout went up forcing all of the guards and the two thousand soldiers waiting within the city itself. The citizens huddle deep in the shelters that have provided, those privileged enough were already making their way into the tunneling systems that pretty much ran through the entirety of the Breone mountains. Running to the dwarves… running to safety.

The moment the undead came with a certain distance, the smacks of released bow strings and the sharp thuds of arrows slicing into flesh and boring holes into skulls rang out within the night. But still this wasn't enough to stop the onward march of an army fueled by a hunger for life. Undead fell in droves, but everyone that was slain and finally put to rest, there was always two more at the back ready to take its place. And so the first undead reached the gates, not at all hesitant to begin banging its head and scratching its fingers on it.

"They're at the gates! Light the oil! Light the oil!" a panicked dwarf yelled out to his comrades.

But apart from being panicked he was also their commanding officer, and the arrival of the undead at the gates even with all their attempts to keep the unholy creature away, had him shaken to the core. Dozens of elf archers and dwarf gunners took their place on the wall, pointing their bows and massive guns high into the sky above the still rapidly increasing army of undead. The tip of the arrows belonging to the elves took on a fiery red glow, the dwarves were not too far behind as the insides of their gun barrel could be seen building up a ball of fiery orange flames.

"Release!" their commander officer ordered as he took a deep breath and leaned a little over the ledge to see just what was going on with their attack and springing of their hidden trap.

Dot of flames filled the night sky, casting a fiery glow over the heads of the dead that now marched at the gates of Rising Snow city. The light the projectiles casted showed them the scope and magnitude of what they were dealing with, the dwarven commander immediately went pale, his bronze skin turning as white as the snow that covered the entirety of the city he was now defending.

*Boom! Boom! Boom! *

The explosions were something beautiful to see, but only one particular group of people could appreciate the fiery touch of death like that, and that was the Biancans themselves. But yet even with the flames and the intense weakness the undead had against it, it was not enough to slow their advance as they kept on moving forward. Passed the burning field of undead covered in pitch and oil that had been wisely and deceptively hidden under the snow.

The undead burned, but as they burned they kept on moving forward, and those that fell from the flames became nothing more than ladders for those who were untouched by it. Some of them went on to the gate to bang their fiery burning bodies on it, others stacked themselves like building blocks, slowly stretching upwards like a growing tree of death. They would be picked off by the archers on the wall, but they would still crawl all over themselves, the dead that no longer moved, serving as a platform for the dead that could still move. Death came in her infinite number and in the horizon hidden by darkness at the very end of this army of the dead, her son watched on with a smile.