Each swing of his weapon left trails of dark energy that lingered in the air like afterimages, and where that energy touched the undead, they simply... ceased.
Not destroyed, not banished, but unmade on a fundamental level.
He boosted his stamina by drinking potions and making himself push his limits.
"Stay close!" he called to the others, his voice muffled by his helm but carrying clearly through the din of battle.
"They're trying to separate us!"
Taeryn acknowledged with a grunt, his spear work becoming increasingly desperate as he found himself facing not just mindless zombies but the reanimated forms of soldiers he had known and fought alongside.
The young spearman's face was a mask of grim determination, but his eyes betrayed the horror he felt at being forced to strike down men who had been his brothers-in-arms mere hours before.
