Urmos Carrion

From birth, Urmos lived in a small village with his family. They were very poor to no fault of their own. The lesser lord of the small region was a greedy man who was only interested in fattening himself and his purse. All the coin in the world could not quell his want and rumors abounded that he began to eye nearby lands for conquest. The town crier would speak truth to these rumors when they began to ask for any able bodied persons to join the lord's army. A portion of spoils would be yours once your name was on the muster sheet.   Urmos knew his family needed the money and the collective confidence of those in the village made it feel as if they had already won. Before his name had dried, a figure lunged from behind the conscriptionist and pulled Urmos aside. He was quickly measured and dressed in an ill fitting uniform. As his eyes began to discern the poor quality of his clothing, a sudden weight dragged his hands to the ground. Trembling in his fingers were the means by which he would create a new life for his family. His imature confidence made these rusted instruments feel like new. They seemed to be made just for him.   Spirits were high as the army marched West. The rank and file was made up almost entirely of the poorest in the region. This one similarity brought many together sooner than camaraderie did. If this was war, Urmos would happily replace any life for it. He was starting to make friends out of his rank mates as song spread across them. The cadence was given life by the veterans, what few there were, and was easily picked up by the youngest.   My brother’s goin down, down to the river/ To put some dirt on, dirt on/ My brother’s goin down, down to deliver / Bones for him and bones for me/ My brother’s goin down, down to the river/ For a world that he’ll never see/   After some time of this somber song filling the air, the army was given orders to halt. A thick smoke fell out of the surrounding forest, past the army's right flank and into a roaring stream. Knees audibly buckled as silence quickly became an unwelcomed guest. Urmos looked for reassurance from those around him. Feral screams sounded as he began to speak, drowning out any petition for mercy. It was an ambush. Urmos had seen deer fat put up more of a fight aginst fresh blades. Those who did not perish under steel perished under water. As he watched lineages being extinguished before him, only terror filled his sunken chest. Then it was shared with an animalistic need to survive. He fell towards a nearby enemy soldier, feigning assistance for a comrade. Urmos hoped to fall quickly and seem dead before the enemy could suspect him. He did not fall fast enough and instead engaged with the soldier. His small stature and features barely touched by puberty proved unamusing to the enemy. The spiked umbo of a shield met his face with a tearing pain and rendered him stunned. Bodies piled on top of him and blocked out what was left of the sun.   Night came soon after the attacking warband left. The world had become cold and a waxing moon paid homage to the fallen juveniles. Urmos flinched as the now icy air filled his lungs. Under the weight of some, it was impossible to get more than a couples gasps before he was forced to exhale. Urmos began to struggle until an audible comotion froze him. It must be a group of soldiers returning for spoils. No, they would have taken it with them once the battle had ended. Perhaps it was a couple highwaymen picking on scraps. Urmos was unsure of how many lie on top of him until the light from a small lantern found its way through the broken bodies. The arms, legs, and faces of fallen comrades along with the lantern light created a constellation of gore. A sight so grotesque would normally evoke a physical reaction in him were it not for the unknown figures. As Urmos looked for an escape he began to hear methodical slicing and cracking sounds around him. Slowly, the weight on him diminished an bodies were pushed aside. His cover thinned with every slice and his chances of survival dwindled with every crack. His instincts returned and he played dead as his body had been chosen by the lantern. Pulled be his legs, he lost all hope of fighting his way free. Hushed voices spoke but he could not make out any words. He peeked with one eye as a hooded figure brandished a blade above his chest. "Please I beg you mercy!" The figures stumble back, not expecting a survivor among the carnage. Urmos shook uncontrolabley as the cold mixed with adrenaline. The group composed itself and began to talk back and forth in what seemed like a deliberation. Enough time passed for Urmos to think of one method of escape before the group ceased suddenly and parted. Between them formed a shorter figure that seemed to look at Urmos without revealing it's face. The aparition approached him and spoke with each step. Their words sounded like a chant only once the rest of the group echoed certain words in the approaching figure's song.   A child born from death/ Carrion, Carrion/ Comes to us from the depths/ a noble son, noble son/ Approaches us with bated breath/ to carry on, carry on/   The figure's features quickly became defined as they took their final steps towards Urmos.