Boral lays claim to a large kingdom in the Realm of Shadows. Those that know where this kingdom is located know enough to avoid it.

The Ghoul Lord has no tolerance for the living. He wants nothing more than to add more soldiers to his undead horde. Boral is recognized as a brutal and deadly warrior through out the Realm. With his horde behind him he is almost unbeatable.

Boral lives in a huge granite castle which rests on a hilltop overlooking his kingdom. Explorers that spot this keep should use it as a landmark and immediately turn back the way they came. There is no mercy in the land of Boral. The best one can hope for is escape.

The absolute chaos of battle can overwhelm even the most experienced of warriors. At that moment I was definately feeling overwhelmed.

We had altered our path to avoid the granite castle on the hilltop. The result of our cautiousness was bloodshed and pain.

The undead horde had pushed from the ground and surrounded us before we could react. Their stench filled our lungs and made our eyes water. Their rusted weapons bit into our legs as our mounts tried to press forward.

We were outnumbered twenty to one. Our weapons and magic struck down abomination after abomination yet the waves of rotting bodies did not seem to thin.

I yelled at the top of my lungs. "Stay together! Continue forward!"

Only one action could save our lives. We had to break free and ride like a bat out of hell. There was no victory to be had here, escape was the best we could hope for.

My men followed my orders to the best of their abilities. We maintained our formation, striking down any undead that managed to push between us.

The effort was in vain as one by one, my men were pulled from their steeds. There was no saving them. Within seconds, they would be swallowed by the horde. Splashes of blood and pieces of mangled armor were flung through the air as they were ripped to shreds. Their screams were almost drowned out by the sounds of battle... almost.

We neared the outer edge of the horde. Our progress was slow. I looked around, only Fores and Ashcroft were still with me. That did not last long.

A rusty spear jabbed upward from the mass of bodies. It pierced Fores' flesh directly under his chin. His helmet was flung from his head as the tip of the weapon exploded through the top of his skull. He quickly joined the others beneath the undead.

I looked to Ashcroft. "Keep going! Push! Push! Push!"

We kicked our mounts hard as we continued attacking and defending. Finally, we broke through. Our steeds no longer needed coaxing, instantly jumping into a dead run.

The sounds of the horde were still close behind. Their moans and the clanking of their armor seemed right on our heels. Neither of us looked back until the sounds began to grow fainter.

I finally summoned the courage to check our rear. I was surprised by what I saw.

A figure on a skeletal horse was racing behind us, trying to catch up. The undead steed snorted red smoke from the holes which would normally be covered by nostrils. It was gaining on us.

The figure was dressed in rusted armor. The suit had obviously been through it's share of battles. Holes and dents covered the surface. Three spikes decorated each of the plates which covered the figure's shoulders. He wore a tattered cape on his back, the dingy fabric whipped in the wind as he continued to gain ground.

His head was not covered by a helm. I could clearly make out his shriveled flesh, the lips had almost completely rotted away. His exposed teeth give him the appearance of a never ending menacing grin. Patches of shoulder length white hair sprung here and there from the scalp.

He carried a bow which appeared to be made of black glass. He lifted the weapon as he pulled an arrow from the quarrel on his back. The missile was a three foot long jagged bone splinter.

There was nothing I could do. I turned away and tried to duck down as far as I could manage. Agony flashed through my body as the figure hit his mark. The bone splinter impaled me through the shoulder.

I cried out. "Arrrrrrghhh!"

Ashcroft looked over at me then back, just now realizing we were being persued.

Magic crackled between his fingers. He turned in his saddle and whipped his arm toward the figure. A bolt of lightening went streaking toward him.

I turned to look back. The motion caused the flesh around the bone splinter to rip slightly. I winced but managed to tolerate the pain as my spirits were lifted by Ashcroft attack.

The lightning bolt hit the skeletal steed square in the chest. The mount exploded in all directions causing the figure to hurl through the air.

He rolled over and over across the ground before finally coming to a stop. He stood up slowly and began brushing himself off. He paused to fire another bone arrow in our direction, but we were well out of his range now.

We continued ahead at top speed, never wanting to be in his range again.

A passage from The Roamers' Journal

�2001 Joe Pombo