Open Chronicles Death's Bitter Symphony

[Ilion]

Sindrost.

It was a wide and vast city with many tall structures, and was built upon a flat stretch of land alongside a wide river. A great bridge crossed this river, where on the other side a great temple was built. A large stone wall encompassed this city, and only a few of the gatehouses remained intact to pass through. However, as the Aerai and their allies' army came upon the city, it became clear to them that they would not simply be entering in to retake it. Arkhivom's army had established a formidable foothold in this place, and the allied forces, numbered around 3000, found themselves facing off against a well entrenched enemy.

---

They'd broken from the treeline a few moments ago. Their horses pushed hard, trampling the blighted ground beneath their hooves. The breaths were heavy and sharp.

Ahead of them, the northern gatehouse, whose gates were smashed and thrown asunder. From there, enemies charged forth, darkened monsters and hooded figures.

Poison spines and black feathered arrows rained down from above, deterred for only so long by magical wards and soon bombarding raised shields. Then came bolts of fiery magic, descending from the wall's high top.

To Ilion's left, a rider crumpled a fell, struck down. He charged forward still. In his left arm he'd raised his shield, but as they drew closer to the encroaching line of enemies he lowered it to hurl a spear with his right. He drew out his sword then, crying out as they came upon them.

Shouting and grueling howls filled the dark night's air, and the sound of crashing steel rang out.

 

[Rûhn]

Rûhn watched the cavalry charge from in front of the ranks of infantry. There was a tense silence amongst the gathered forces as they watched the first wave of their friends run towards their death. Screams and fighting filled the air and so did the scent of fear and dread. The Hammer's wings rustled uncomfortably. These were not his men to rouse. Commanders rode up and down the columns shouting encouragement and threats - whatever it took for the men to hold their nerve - but it was still an instinct he had to fight against to turn and offer his own words. Instead he turned to his own, or what remained of them.

Oriane was the only other member of The Thirteen who stood on this battlefield. The rest, including his own daughter, were scattered to the four corners of the Falwood, fighting on their own fronts. He tried not to think about the danger she was in and reminded himself she was a warrior of her own. All of The Thirteen were. Still, he was glad Oriane remained with him to help him focus.

"What do you think?" he asked in a low murmur, conscious of the keen elven hearing behind him. They both watched as one of the demons creatures ripped a horse's belly open, sending its rider crashing to the ground where another fell upon him in a mad frenzy. His fingers flexed towards the hammers shaft. They had been told to hold and then provide aerial support on the first infantry charge.

 

[Oriane]

Oriane dared not take her eyes off from the beastly thing gutting a horse, watching how it moved, how it struck out an attack. "They are quick." She noted, loud enough to be heard by such keen listeners. The playfulness and cheek she showed the first few nights of travel, mingling around campfires, was not present in the Avariel in this moment.

She was not fighting in the Thirteen, not that first of them to reach a battle and start dismantling the defenses.

No, she had been told to wait, to standby and watch the cavalry be slaughtered.

"They may be evasive if we are airborne... but we are not fodder made of darkness like they are." She turned to meet the golden gaze of the Hammer. "We know where to strike in combat."

Her attentiveness had been one of the skills that narrowly rewarded her a place within the Thirteen, but all her efforts were not for show. Oriane had proven herself, had worked herself to get here. To fight alongside the Hammer, she gave him a sly smile before turning to watch the grounds become sanguine sea. "You call the shots and I will follow."

Ilion Rûhn

 

[Ilion]

He'd volunteered. Every one of them had. For those of his kind it had always been easy to delegate such things, and to their surprise their allies seemed equally as fearless and quick. And each of them knew exactly what was going to happen - but it had to. He lay under the crushing weight of a ravenous monster, his body alight with magic - it was the only thing that gave him the strength to hold the beast's jaws open. In what could have easily been, and might yet just be, his final moment, he maintained this overruling need. There was no shame in death here.

A great flash suddenly blinded him. The monster lifted off of him, encased in a fixing light. It struggled against its bonds as it floated upward, but could do little more than twitch. Ilion rolled onto his side, casting a look back to the spellcaster who'd rescued him. A fellow Aerai. They loosed another terrible surge of light, and the monster was blown to pieces.

Tragically, the feat had left the mage vulnerable, and Ilion was far too distant to arrive before they'd been overwhelmed by a pack of monsters who'd encroached from the flank that had been left exposed.

On his feet once more, sword in hand, he hurled himself to take the position, eager to avenge his fallen kin. As he buried his sword deep into the skull of one of the monsters he let out a terrible cry, and then tore the sword free.

Clashing with another now, as he fought he perceived his surroundings. They grew ever denser with enemies who continued to emerge from the gatehouse.

---

Rûhn | Oriane ​

 

[Rûhn]

Rûhn glanced across at his fellow with a raised brow. Oriane did not often so wiingly give over the role of leader. Out of the Thirteen both of them ranked amongst the oldest and most experienced. Many of their number had not tasted true war, not the likes of which he and Oriane had served in centuries ago. He rustled his wings uncomfortably as he always did when Oriane got that look upon her face.

It never spelt an easy day of battle.

With sigh he stepped away from her to spread his wings as their signal went up. The idea was that hiding back here and letting the cavalry take the brunt, the enemy would think their number less than it was. Now they had lured out most of the shadows it was time to reveal their true might, including their aerial contingent.

As the flag went down, Rûhn flew up. He had worked by Oriane's side enough he did not need to tell her to follow. The pair took to the skies and dove across the battlefield.

"Let's cut off their retreat," he shouted over the wind as the infantry below them bellowed and ran forward to meet the surprised enemy.

 

[Oriane]

Golden wings gave a powerful push and the Spear was taken into the air, keenly following the Hammer as he lead their attack. Her own instincts needed to be forgotten if only a moment, for Oriane's wings made her the fastest of the Thirteen.

They were twin weapons, side by side, as if this fight was not their first. Together, they reached the rear of the enemy lines, and with a brandish of her spear teemed with magic fuelled by the past Avariels that served as the Spear, Oriane struck down on the earth and levelled many creatures. She was airborn again, not one to stay still for long, and worked on skewering a great number into her golden spear.

Her incredible speed proved advantage already, halting many retreats. Oriane spared a glance to Rûhn.

Ilion Rûhn

 

[Vlash]

It was glorious, a ravishing of order as the charging multitude struck into the Demons entrenched position. Vlash was there, always in the thickest of the fighting and took a lance to the chest. It broke and he kept going, leaping onto the neck of the offenders horse and in a strike like ta bolt of lightening struck the head from his foes shoulders.
"NO MERCY!!!!!"
His shrill cry pierced the din of clashing flesh and metal. He struck the legs of horses and watched the riders sprawl helpless, cackled with the joy of evil as he pinned and slew them.
Not all weRE as devastating as him, but then, not all fought with three arms and a sword in each. Again and again the foe made the error.
They cut him and beat him but bone did not break for he had none and blood did not spill for he had none of that either. They never lived long enough to learn.
One begged for its life when it dealt a blow to his skull with a mace that would have crushed his skull, if he had one, before he struck it and it made the striking all the sweeter.

About him the demon host was joyous in its butchery. The larger ones beat and hammered their way forward, the smaller ones cut ankles and stuck blades into the tired and wounded. Those of his own more human stature fought wildly with unconventional weapons. Godenak's and spiked flails were seen more than swords and spears. All weapons that promised cruel and painful ends.

It was not long before Vlash saw the one in blue darting about like a loosed arrow from one target to the next. He even slayed a few which delighted Vlash to no end. Encouraged by the prospect of an enemy worth killing Vlash flexed his arms and marched on the blue warrior shrieking a high pitched wail as he did, the kind of noise that caused all the remaining horses to startle and what riders still remained to regain control of their mounts.

Ilion