Hollow Suit

Survival had a price; a steep sum that they had not been prepared for, but ultimately reluctantly paid.  The battle had left the men beat and broken; body and spirit alike.  If morale could be measured at a single numeral value and displayed above their sullen heads, it was sure to be one that resided somewhere deep down below zero.  It was a miracle that their feet still managed to trudge forward.  But, it was only a matter of time until they too would submit to the crushing doubt and despair that plagued the rest of their waning minds.  

Whether hope for them still existed would soon be revealed as they reached the summit of the next rolling hill.  Beyond, within the fields of green that followed either reinforcements or corpses awaited them.  Hope sparked to life as the men crested the hill to find other survivors wearing their king’s colors.  However, it was short lived as their hope morphed into confusion as their various cheers and exclamations were coldly ignored by those in the field below.  A chill circled the air as the men drew close and found the stares of their compatriots vacant, eyes blank and unseeing.  

It was at this point, one of the men noticed an individual standing at the center of the crowd that stood out from the rest.  Shining like a freshly minted piece of silver was a knight wearing a full suit of armor.  A large, red plume was affixed to the top of this knight’s helm and flowed downward like the tip of an elongated paint brush; the worn strands of which were coated in horrid dark red clumps that dripped down thumping unpleasantly as they collided with the ground.  As it slowly turned and approached them, what lay within the helm came into view, revealing a fleshless skeletal face within.  Letting loose a guttural scream from within the armor, the monstrosity sent the surrounding crowd into a violent, unholy frenzy that quickly engulfed the men not yet under its control.