"The Delay"

NOTE: This was a 30-minute, in-class writing assignment about a minor character in my upcoming story, "The Plot", which is set a few months after the events of "The House".

Sir Morn sat regally atop his nightmare as the foolish knights approached on their mounts. The first knight was struck from his saddle by a flaming skull as he neared the pumpkin-headed rider. The second was run through by Morn’s lance as the undead lord rode forth on his dark, flaming steed.

“You will not leave here, monster!” shouted the leader of the crusaders as the abomination discarded his lance and drew a battleaxe from the sling on his back. The paladin slashed at his foe with his sword as he rode by, but Sir Morn deftly blocked the strike with his axe, a hollow laugh echoing from the pumpkin resting atop his neck. As the crusader turned to make another pass, his horse fell beneath him with Morn’s weapon in its side. The dreadful rider summoned the battleaxe back to his hand in a burst of green fire just in time to behead the last approaching rider.

The leader of the crusaders stood alone amidst the corpses of his comrades, facing down Sir Morn. The pumpkin-headed knight glanced at the sky, noting the position of the moon. “I will strike you down for delaying my meeting!” he exclaimed, his irritated voice echoing from the jack-o’-lantern. The undead lord leapt from his horse, his dark armor glinting in the moonlight. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed his steed to the ethereal plane.

“It is I who will strike you down for slaying my warriors!” shouted the crusader as he charged forward with sword and shield in hand.

Sir Morn held out his hand and a flaming skull rapidly formed in his grasp. He hurled it at his enemy, who took the attack upon his shield. The overzealous crusader lunged at his adversary and swung down with his blade, which glowed with radiant light. The headless knight batted the blow away with the flat of his axe and viciously sliced off the paladin’s hand. The warrior screamed in pain as he bashed Morn in the pumpkin with his shield.

Sir Morn spat a seed onto the ground and wiped away a few wet, fibrous strands that were dangling from his terrifying grin. He gripped the paladin’s shield with one hand and wrenched it from his grasp. Then he tossed it aside and swung his battleaxe through the air.

                The undead lord retrieved his foe’s severed head from the ground and clashed his spurs together, summoning his abyssal steed. With a deathly, mocking laugh, the victorious knight rode off to attend his meeting with the other members of the Undying Council.