He was alright. A bit - well, he definitely had the right mentality for an Undead. That casual disregard for personal well-being was rather endemic for out kind - life was more of a resource to spend than it was for other people, as we just didn't stay dead. Or in his case, die in the first place. Still, as someone who had been carrying this burden for longer - I had long ago given up on keeping track, especially as the Cycles got worse and time got absolutely fucked - I felt a bit of responsibility to the younger Undead, to make sure he had his bearings in this world and understood how his body operated.

And from the mad charge in with no concerns for his well being, that was well in hand. Well then, it was time for me to put the thoughts of my compatriot out of my mind, and instead focus on the bounty of Souls before me. The treant was roaring in pain - my iron greatarrow had pierced through his woody flesh, biting deep into his undertissue. Fantastic. I finished my chant - I always did prefer the Miracles of the Nameless King, I thought with a grin - and pulled my arm back.

A brilliant golden-yellow flash lit up the night air as my Lightning Spear shot forward. The electric crackle hit the iron end jutting from the beast, and it let out a tremendous roar of pain as energy coruscated into its interior. The smell of smokey wood filled the clearing as the treant retaliated, long thin fingers shooting for me.

But I wasn't using my bow any more, which meant that the shield strapped to my arm was for more than just show. I stepped forward into the attack, lifting, smacking, deflecting. I had fought against countless opponents, and while my form was weaker - well. Experience trumps youth, they say. The claws scraped against the iron shield, scoring it deeply - iron was such a poor metal on its own. I would have to see about replacing it later - but didn't make it through. I shoved my chime back onto my belt and drew out my arming sword.

A flash upwards, and iron blade bit through wood, hacking into it. This was not a time for finesse, this was a beast with poor brains in its head. And I was long a slayer of such foul beings. I ripped my sword out, and lunged again, drawing ever closer to its main body as I parried its attacks with sword and shield. It was learning, slowly, to go for bashing strikes instead of clawing attacks, but - I doubted the beast could learn enough in time to save itself. Not now.