Private Tales In the Moonless Night

[Vailë]

It had been some time since the Blackwood Bastion had been established, and forces began gathering there. Many answered the call, and soon the march to Sharyrdaes would begin. There was still much to do there, and they had little time left to prepare. But, before they departed, there were some who felt it prudent for someone to go and investigate Qárele, a long abandoned Aerai keep not far from their encampment.

Vailë was quick to volunteer, so she and several of her brethren, as well as a few honourable friends from the Knights of Anathaeum, soon set out from the Blackwood Bastion, making their way through the cursed wood toward the derelict keep.

---

They were a group of a dozen, and riding up on horseback they covered their ground quickly. But around them they could feel the anxiety of the cursed forest, they could feel the sensations of eyes upon them, but to look for them in the dark around them would be of no avail. Wretched cries echoed in the distance, coming, it seemed, from many directions. Vailë cried out for them to ignore any fear and push forward. And soon, the great shadow of the ruined keep loomed over them.

"The gatehouse is smashed," cried one of them, and their horses spun about anxiously.

Vailë looked down the wall one way, and then the other.

"We must find another way in, quickly!"

 

[Vordrakel Deaz'renith]

Vordrakel heard the threatening vocalizations in the distance and knew they had little time to find a more advantageous battlefield. They stood little chance if they were surrounded, and Vailë was right: the safest place to be was within the keep's fortifications, damaged as they were.

He wheeled his mount around, tongue clicking to keep the horse moving as he scouted the base of the walls for any gap or secondary entrance. His sword glowed in golden arcane light, a spell conjured as much to guide his way as to discourage the creatures in the darkness.

"Over here!" he called back to his allies when he spied a ragged shadow where his light met a fallen brick. The wall had collapsed here to form a narrow, but scalable way up to the rampart. He hoped the horses could make it, or that someone else had found a better entry point.

Vailë Magdeline

 

[Phyrra]

The curse had sunk its teeth deep into the lands surrounding the Blackwood Bastion. Phyrra could not remember a time when the darkness had not held sway here, but she hoped to see it flourish again, as it had in days of yore. Before the darkness, before the death-blight that had corrupted it beyond recognition.

Splitting off from the group, Phyrra rode in the opposite direction to Vordrakel. Radiant light, pure and purifying, poured from beneath the folds of her cloak to bathe the path ahead. It had been quite some time since the keep had played host to the living, and it showed.

'Another breach, here!' she cried out, eyes scanning the mound of crumbled stone for a clear path. When none was forthcoming, she passed her reins to the nearest rider, dismounted so as to get a better look. 'Wait here,' she said. 'I will not be long.'

Pulling aside her cloak, the Third Blade of Nykios drew her sword.

Vailë Vordrakel Deaz'renith

 

[Magdeline]

A poleaxe rested upon her shoulder, Magdeline watched their number gather.

"So it begins," Syr Ilvisar too, watched as the forces of Sharyrdaes stirred beneath the stone arches of the Blackwood Bastion. He was born to Sharydaes, and sent to learn from and share with the Knights of Anathaeum.

Too young to remember the old splendor of Aeraesar, his want to prove himself in the conflict to come, was only tempered by the waves of unity he felt now, so close to his people.

"I will go and gather Triton and Ulka," the tiefling knight anounced.

Syr Ilvisar nod.

---

Ilvisar willed his horse about and cast his eyes out to the encroaching horde that would crash upon them. The writhing shapes in the distance, twisted limbs and gnarled teeth that grew closer with every breath. Shriek louder with each moment that passed.

Magdeline felt a pulse of assurance wake through her mind. A measure of calm that kept her heart from running wild.

"Triton," the Aerai knight called out. And Phyrra would feel the pull of his mind, warning her of the action to come.

"On it!" he hopped off his horse, and with the pointed end of his great mace's haft, he traced quick a circle in the dust and grey of the turned earth. What little magick of the wyld was left in this place, was thin. But stone, old and cold as it was, kept at its heart a well of geomantic pull.

Words came like distant landslide from the young knight's mouth. His mace glowed green, and so too did stones upon the wall of Phyrra's ascent. With a pull of the wand-weapon the stones of the breach shift. A few bricks tumbled out, and the way was made easier too traverse.

Magdeline was on the ground, and fast after Phyrra as bricks clattered and fell.

---

Vordrakel Deaz'renith Phyrra Vailë

 

[Ostára]

In a flurry of wings the colours of a summers dawn, Ostára alighted upon the battlements above where Vordrakel had stopped beside a hole.

"You should be able to get your horses through, you may have to walk them," Tara did not have much experience with the beasts but there was enough rubble on the winding route she could only imagine they might break a leg if they had to worry about carrying someone too. She turned her eyes instead to the sights beyond the wall and the carnage within. At her side she held her golden bow and her fingers restlessly flexed against the grip. She itched to fly ahead but her father had cautioned her against the recklessness of youth. If she was caught and injured, without the support of the team she would likely die. They had been the blunt words of a commander to a young soldier but Ostára had seen the pain in his eyes. The fear.

So she watched, guiding them from the sky, and keeping an eye upon their enemies within. As such it was she who first spotted the shadows turning from their earlier targets back towards the walls and them.

"It appears they have noticed we are here."

 

[Vailë]

The others were right, and so she was quick to remove herself from the comfort of her mount and get her own boots on the ground. With a quiet whistle and whispered words did she direct her loyal steed, and near to her would it remain. No doubt to travel past the rubble with her upon it would lead to its injury, and even like this she wondered if it would be safe enough. But there was little time. She drew her sword, and started after Vordrakel.

"Split up, we'll regroup once we're inside!"

And at her word their number segregated into two parties, with some following after Phyrra and the Knights, and the others following her and Vordrakel. The monsters in the dark had indeed taken notice of them, and the growing din of their gnashing heralded their arrival. Their group needed to get inside quickly and take advantage of the fortifications, such as they were.

Inside they'd find themselves kept separate by the imposing, mostly ruined structure of the gatehouse, which stretched deep into the open courtyard. From her vantage, Ostára could likely see both parties clearly, and too the threats that were drawing even closer, rustling through the wood. They need only file in quickly, and their work would be simple.

---

Vordrakel Deaz'renith | Phyrra | Magdeline | Ostára ​

 

[Vordrakel Deaz'renith]

Vordrakel dismounted with a salute of appreciation towards Ostára, grateful for the second set of eyes from above. With an apparent horde creeping around the dark woods outside the walls and yet unnumbered perils within, he knew those eyes might save more than just their horses this night.

"Split up, we'll regroup once we're inside!"

"Understood!"

The shield scanned the forest's dreary edges for signs of movement while he waited for Vailë and her group to catch up. There wasn't much he could make out in the gloom beyond his light, but that feeling of being watched was growing more pressing. The chorus of malevolent voices - not quite animal, not quite kith - was definitely growing louder.

"I'll guard our flank," he declared and moved himself to the rear of the group, following behind as they made their way through the rubble and into the keep. He handed the reins of his horse to another before pausing in the narrow gap between the walls that still held.

It was here that the battlemage would draw his defensive line. Calling upon the power of ancestors that stirred in his blood, and the threads of magic that existed through the world, he invoked a spell with breath and spirit. The forge of fire and light lay before him in his mind's eye.

The spell was woven into corporeal form as a mote of fire that danced in the palm of his free hand. He drew the eldritch fire across the curved blade, setting it ablaze with a fluid motion and a sharp command. Running the sword across the earth before him left a lingering wall of fire and smoke in its wake.

Ostára's warning came from above. Moving back to rejoin the others, he hoped the flames would slow any pursuers that tried to follow them through the breach.

Vailë Ostára Magdeline Phyrra

 

[Phyrra]

Phyrra felt a voice tug at her mind, and suddenly the stone beneath her boots began to shift. The geomancer knew his business. Dirt and debris packed tight to form a ramp, up, over the mound filling the breach. The going was still tricky in places, but not as tricky as it would have been had he not intervened.

Phyrra was through in moments.

Sliding down the other side, she called back to her brothers-in-anathaeum, and the lone Aerai warrior accompanying them. The latter was the first to appear over the heap, horses in tow. 'Company calls,' he said, echoing the warning given them by their Avariel companion, Ostára. Phyrra smiled.

'Then, we'd best prepare our answer.'

Beckoning Magdeline to her side, Phyrra laid a hand upon the tiefling's weapon. 'A little light,' she explained, 'To keep the darkness at bay.' As if by willpower alone, warm, radiant light enveloped the poleaxe, illuminating the world around them. Phyrra bestowed the same gifts upon Syrs Triton and Ulka whilst Vailë's squad made their own preparations.

Ilvisar's weapon was already aglow by the time Phyrra joined him at the breach. The she-elf sensed no fear in him. His resolve bolstered her own.

Magdeline Vailë Vordrakel Deaz'renith

 

[Magdeline]

Bright was the light that welled from the head of Magdeline's weapon, a familiar draw there in the pulse of it. "My thanks," the tiefling said, with small measure of wonder, though it was the slash of fire, and the bright song of its want that had her look to the breach, saw the shimmer of golden wash that burned there.

Triton and Ulka lead their horses away from the breaches. The young knight of Dawn unable to stare in a moment of wonder at the bright plumes of pink and sunkissed cloud that beat strong and sure above them.

Ulka shoved him. Triton coughed.

Ilvisar stood at the breach, and nod to Phyrra, whose presense he sensed, like warm wave across welcome shallows. His eyes on Vordrakel as the flame caller beat retreat. In his hands, Ilvisar held strong a bow.

"There is much darkness that trails us," he said, with a hint of smile there upon his lips. "To think, I would meet such dread alongside true Swords and Shields, and the most illusive Avariel,"

Ostára Phyrra Vailë Vordrakel Deaz'renith

 

[Ostára]

Tara kept herself between the two parties as best as she could. There was the odd turret of battlement she could perch upon to call out directions but often she had to keep herself airbound. Great beats of her wings held her aloft in one place where between watching the groups she also watched the enemy. Even with her keen eyesight it was hard to make out their foe properly as they scuttled through the warren of walkways. The two groups were going to meet in the courtyard if her calculations were correct.

"Have your weapons ready," she called down to the two groups as they approached that courtyard. Now the beasts were close enough to pick out details but so it was that she too was an easier target. A black arrow shot towards her but Ostara had her own bow knocked and arrow loosed before it could find its mark within her flesh. The enemies arrow was sheared in half then her own golden arrow buried itself in the creatures eye causing it to drop down dead amongst its fellows.

A roar went up as the enemies poured into the courtyard.

 

[Vailë]

Though they had employed their haste to a successful degree in getting themselves into the keep, and Vordrakel had done well in covering their advance, they were far from safe. They may have been protected from the creatures that had given them chase as they approached Qárele, but the ones that awaited them within were now upon them. As the two groups moved into the courtyard from either side of the gatehouse and once again came together, there was a sudden sound and a terrible cry which came from seemingly all around - and then they came. Beasts like animals roared and gnawed with biting teeth, clamouring on all fours with talons and claws. But also too, much to the quiet dismay of those who knew them, was a more rarely encountered foe.

I Aica Aerai - The Fallen Aerai.

Arkhivom's lot were a dreadful collection of many kinds of creatures, all of whom had been twisted and changed by the dark lord and his magic. In the War of the Eventide when all of Aeraesar was shrouded in darkness, many Aerai had fallen, but not all who had failed had been slain. Over years, through invasive and terrible means did he pervert the minds of his prisoners and enslave them to his will, inevitably twisting their own telepathic powers and their very being against them.

In silence they showed themselves along the fringes in dark, tattered cloaks, hidden beneath an ensuing shadow. From there, many loosed arrows at all of them, and others joined with the other beastly creatures and drew closer with swords in hand, all of them bent on one thing - death.

"By the light," Vailë dreadfully uttered under her breath from beneath the cover of her shield, having caught sight of her fallen kin. She was loathe to face them in combat, but she steeled herself, knowing full well that no history between any of them meant anything now. As Arkhivom's monsters were upon them, she lashed out and bashed aside a monster that leapt at her, and the steel of her sword met with that of her tortured, former kinsmen.

---

Vordrakel Deaz'renith | Phyrra | Magdeline | Ostára ​

 

[Vordrakel Deaz'renith]

As Vordrakel rejoined the group, he felt his kin's grim dismay at the sight of the fallen ones. Once their own flesh and blood - now no more than shadows of themselves bent to Arkhivom's will. Lost. Sorrowful memories were recognized and shared between the Aeraesarians, but each was a wound distinct. To Vordrakel, it was just another vision of similar battles spanning the centuries of his life. As with the other familiar faces he'd fought before, their place in his thoughts and feelings were given to his mind's fire.

He focused instead on the battlefield before him in quick glances; the lay of the land, the positions of the biggest threats looming in the shadows. From what he perceived, it would be the enemy archers taking advantage of gaps in their defense. Either they'd need to take them out with their own ranged fighters, or else swiftly find cover from the barrage.

An observation he shared through his kin's telepathic bond, though he'd leave the orders to Vailë's discretion.

With a muted twanging of bowstrings beyond the growling mob, another volley flew for their position. Vord intercepted one meant for him with a horizontal slash of his sword that erupted in a burning arc and cut through the arrow in a burst of golden light.

Invoking a spell to protect himself in place of armor, he then took up a position just behind the front line of his allies, where he would concentrate on further protecting any ranged combatants in their group and preventing those ahead of him from being flanked. Already, cursed beasts pressed in along with the I Aica Aerai around the elves and their allies. Vord met those who tried to come between or around the front line with the song of roaring flame and the deadly dance of blade.

Vailë Ostára Magdeline Phyrra

 

[Phyrra]

'A humbling experience, to be sure,' replied Phyrra, the warmth in her words matched only by the fire behind her eyes. She sensed the Fallen Ones amongst the enemy mass, just as her kith did. An open wound upon her soul, their loss was Arkhivom's gain. Phyrra hated the idea of fighting her people, fallen or otherwise.

But it was better to die than to succumb to darkness. Of that much, she was certain.

'Perhaps now would be a good time to find a place up high from which to let fly your arrows,' Phyrra thought aloud, watching Syr Ilvisar from out of the corner of her eye. With her friends of Anathaeum close by, there was no need to fear being left alone, or at least without fellow Aerai to stand alongside.

'The decision is yours,' she said, pausing to snatch an enemy arrow from the air, only to throw it back at them. 'Best make it quick.' The window of opportunity closed swiftly. In a chorus of yips and howls, the monsters swarmed the base of the breach to hurl themselves at the warriors waiting for them at the summit. One, a slender thing, faster than the rest, managed to get past the cruel head of a knight's polearm.

Phyrra carved a new mouth where its throat used to be before kicking it backwards, onto the beast behind it.

'Steady now!' She called, blade arcing down to sever a clawed hand, the arm it was attached to. 'Steady!'

Magdeline Ostára Vailë Vordrakel Deaz'renith

 

[Magdeline]

A smirk cut across the young Arai's lips, and a nod, more like that of a young boy at play, than a warrior caught in the throws of battle.

To see his kin move with such alacrity, such sure and measured lethality.

Yes, the sorrow hung thick in the air. But this would be a day for him to be part of his people's history.

Ilvisar made away, quick up a ladder that lead to a higher vantage point upon the wall.

Magdeline nod, her visor gown shut across her face, her breath hot within the orichalcum of her strange plate. A well timed thrust skewered one changed thing that let out horrid screech. A shout and a shift of arms saw the thing pinned.

The heavy head of an axe chopped down through spine with a crunch and squelch. A smatter of ichro, darker than blood. Ulka huffed, pulled the axe free as creature came for her, quick as a snake.

An arrow of gold light struck down like lightning bolt. Punched through one darksome thing, two, three with the white flash of lightning's forked tongue. But the fallen Arai stayed in their stun.

A rumble, a shift, and bricks came free from the masonry. One wall stone hurled forward and cracked against the first creature with the whoom of mace-head, another brick flew forward with the second loop, and broke against the next.

Magdeline drew in breath, took in the scent of the foul death. And let it fuel her call for fire's spirit.

For now, the Knights with the Third Blade of Nykios held staedy.

 

[Ostára]

One goblin amongst the enemy's hoard scampered forward licking his lips as he eyed up the golden arrow. He did not care if it had killed one of the Pointed Ear things. No matter how much his master told him they were on the same side, the creature couldn't shake its disgust or lingering fear of them. When they died he was almost happy, certainly more so when they were struck down with such beautiful pieces of gold. The creature glanced at the raging battle to make sure no others were going to steal or fight him for his prize then reached forward to wind slimy webbed fingers around the shaft only for it to suddenly shimmer. The creature lurched back and watched bug eyed as the golden arrow broke into a hundred balls of little lights, then floated across the battlefield back to reform in the quiver of the one who had fired it.

It was not the only ribbon of golden to wend its way back towards Ostára from across the battlefield. Her face was set into a determined frown as she loosed arrow after arrow after arrow. Each recall was a draw on her energy and magic as was activating one of the arrows various abilities. She had to use them wisely and hit where it would make the most impact.

She loosed another arrow and sent with it that pulse of magic it required. This time when it hit its target - an orc in the middle of a thick knuckle of fighters - it exploded. Bits of orc and goblin and Fallen flew in every direction.

 

[Vailë]

There was a force that encroached upon them, and it was sizeable to be sure, but these were no ordinary prey that they chased after. Each of the Aerai present were hardened and formidable warriors. The Knights who had come with them proved to be no different, and the Avariel who rained death from above only bolstered them further. They were outnumbered, yes, but far from outmatched. Fortune had favoured them greatly with Ostára's presence. The power of her magic was enough to open a way for the Aerai and the Knights who accompanied them.

"Forward," called Vailë.

And it took no time for her thoughts to be imparted through their collective. The way to Qárele's Keep, just a short way from where they were now, had been blown wide open after Ostára's most recent assault. Quickly their number fought and rallied together and began to make way forward as the dark ones swarmed them around their flanks.

It was then that Vailë showed forth what it meant to be a Third Sword of the Order.

Throwing down the enemy of her fallen kindred she whirled her sword in her hand, and a crackling light showed forth in it. As their troop darted quickly toward the open gates of the keep she called upon her magic and with the swing of her sword brought forth a flurry of lightning. It did little to truly injure so many foes all at once, but it served to momentarily give them pause, time enough for them to escape into the relative safety of the keep.

Vailë slid in as the great wooden doors were slammed shut and the braces slid forcefully into place.

Archers quickly took up places within and upon the tower. Others gathered spears which they made way with onto the wall to hurl them down upon their enemy.

Qárele's Keep, unlike its outer fortress walls, was intact. They need only outlast their foe here, and hope there were no others who dwelt deeper within.

---

Vordrakel Deaz'renith | Phyrra | Magdeline | Ostára ​

 

[Vordrakel Deaz'renith]

Ostára had cleared a temporary path forward with her enchanted arrows. They moved towards the door of the inner keep on Vailë's order, the horses kept in the safety of the center of the group as they pushed through the enemy line. Thinking they could take advantage of their dangerous foes' exposed flank, a group of the shadow-touched creatures split off from the main mob to assault them from behind.

Where Vordrakel was waiting for them.

Bolstered by numbers and eager for a bloody feast, a bestial form charged headlong for the warmage, muscles taut, claws and teeth bared for the expected ripping of fabric and flesh. What it felt instead was a sharpness in its agape maw, an instant of searing pain, and finally the black curtain of death.

Shifting his weight to his right foot, Vord stepped to the side of the charging monstrosity, thrusting his blade forward to meet the soft flesh of the creature's gaping mouth and up into its brain, then reversing his arm's motion before its own weight and momentum brought it crashing down in a heap.

No blood spilled out in the wake of the self-cauterizing wound, but the beast's fellows cared little for the stench of burning meat, nor the elf's strange glowing weapon; a weapon that seemed to dance and weave through the air in golden arcs, carried by a rhythm only its bearer knew.

A second warped beast whose original nature had been lost to the demon's curse rushed forward to meet a similarly quick end. But there were more - too many more, by Vord's estimation - and their strategy to simply overwhelm his position would ultimately win if he was forced to hold his ground here. As it was he had to keep backtracking to keep up with his allies' advance, which might have put him in a somewhat vulnerable position if he couldn't use the closing ranks of his foes to his advantage.

He'd seen a fair amount of battles with Arkhivom's wretched minions, enough to know how to draw them in. All it took was a stutter in his pace; a moment of apparent distraction; a perceived weakness in his defense. A deep breath.

The growls and snarls of his attackers turned to howls of surprise and pain as Vord brought his sword up before him and exhaled across the flat of the blade, stoking its flames and sending them outward in a fan of flashfire as hot as a dragon's breath, though much smaller in scope. Those that had fallen for his feint now fell to the burning heat, leaving the more intelligent among them to reconsider their route of attack at the sight of their charred peers.

The inner keep stood over them now, within reach but for the remaining enemies ahead that tried to bar their entrance. The Third Sword called upon her powers to stun the mob, giving the knights and Aerai the necessary time to make it into the old stone fortress.

With a collective effort, they shut and barred the great doors. But there was not yet a moment for any of them to catch their breath, for the banging and howling continued outside as their enemies threw themselves at the gate. Already their archers were getting into position in the towers, while another group started a search for spears or other weaponry to make use of the walls; a few others considered if there were enough materials left around the place to put together a barricade. Vordrakel was among the latter, though he mainly hoped to find a secondary entrance rather than fighting at the front gate, if it came to that.

Vailë Ostára Magdeline Phyrra

 

[Phyrra]

Phyrra stood her ground, slashing at anything that got too close. One of the Fallen, his pale features criss-crossed with scars, kept thrusting at her with a broken spear. Phyrra felt it glance her stomach, her ribs. The scale armour she wore turned the blows, robbing them of the surprising force with which they were dealt. For all his vigour, the creature that had once been an Aerai warrior appeared more skeletal than some of the literal skeletons she could see spread throughout the growing press.

Didn't stop him from trying. Nor did it stay her hand when he abandoned his weapon, threw himself at her like a man possessed. Perhaps he was at that.

Death is a mercy, the Third Blade told herself, kicking her slain kinsman backwards down the breach. She would say a prayer for him, later, if they survived. Death is a mercy. Cutting through another monster, the she-elf called out to her companions. 'On my word, disengage and fall back to the inner ward!'

With Ostára raining down death from above, and Vailë planning a withdrawal, it would not do to stay defending the breach. The Knights of Anathaeum were capable warriors, brave to a fault. But they were mortals, same as the rest. Phyrra did not wish to see them perish.

The seconds grew longer. Time ceased to exist. Then, a lull in the fighting.

'Now!' Phyrra yelled, driving her sword blade-first into the ground between her feet. Light, pure and blinding, pulsed, began to pour from steel to stone and down through rocky defile as the knights ceded their position to the enemy. The Enemy. Monsters, most indistinguishable, turned their gazes upon her.

Hungry, thirsting for blood, they howled and yammered, like a lynch mob here to see her swing.

They did not see what happened next. No-one did.

Radiant light burst forth from the breach. Blinding everything it touched, it pushed back the encroaching darkness. Long enough for Phyrra to free her blade and run.

To the Keep, where her comrades were busy forming a new line of defence.

Sheathing her blade, she intercepted a shortbow thrown her way. A full quiver followed. Nodding gratefully to Vordrakel and the others, Phyrra made her way up to the battlements. A small number of Anathaeum awaited her there. 'So much for a simple supply run,' she said, smiling at them through the blood coating her face.

'Anyone got a cloth I could borrow? Not easy to shoot straight with my eyes sealed shut.'

Magdeline Ostára Vailë Vordrakel Deaz'renith

 

[Magdeline]

On with wall with Phyrra, Maggie smiled, and knocked her bow. "I like this one," she admitted behind the red plate of her helm. Her poleaxe was rested on the battlements before her.

Ilvisar smirked, and offered the Third Blade a rag he still had in his pouch. "On your left, Lady Phyrra," he said as he offered up the cloth, gave her a bump with arm to alert her of his presence.

Maggie grinned, and let fly an arrow down into the mass of foes. Another knocked, another loosed.

Along the walls, those armed with projectile weapons let fly sharp shots as their ranks still filled, and the enemy poured into the yard beyond the keep.

Where they gathered in rank, sorcerous powers crashed down, let loose by Arai and Knight alike.

---

At the gate, Triton and Ulka helped ready the barricade. Ulka, carrying heavy timber under each arm, Triton settled into himself, and felt the lay of stones spread out beneath him. Felt the grid of brick and masonry just beyond the sealed barrier of the keep.

A spread of fingers, a focus of breath, he turned his hands quick, and lift them up with a deep inhilation. The stonework on the other side of the great doors shift, turned uneven and hostile to good footing.

---

Ostára Vailë Vordrakel Deaz'renith Phyrra

 

[Ostára]

Ostára landed amongst those gathered on the battlements and then tucked in her wings tight to avoid a careless brush in such confined quarters. Her fellow archers nodded now with respect rather than the indifference of a man who did not fully believe the myths. Her lips lifted into a half smile as she nodded back then meandered her way along to where she spied Phyrra, Maggie and Ilvisar. Tara used the walk to drink from her waterskin and gave her magic a chance to replenish - even if it was only for a few minutes.

"Here," she offered the waterskin to those three when they paused in their own attack to take a breath. She peered over the edge to see the monsters pounding at the gate. Guttural calls sounded back along their poor attempts at ranks and those at the very back broke away, running back through the mazes of broken wall. "I think they're looking for a battering ram."

 

[Vailë]

The keep's gates stood firm, and its strength was bolstered and preserved with the aid of several Aerai, casting their magics upon it, Vailë among them. But this would exhaust them after only a short while and the gates would be quickly overcome, so they were quick to begin searching for materials.

She began to wonder if this expedition was truly worth it at this point. They hadn't expected to come across so much resistance, having assumed that most of Arkhivom's forces had gathered somewhere away from here. But as she felt the well of her magics begin to diminish with each forceful blow against the gates, these wayward thoughts were quickly tucked away and the severity of their situation returned and remained forefront.

Some of her brethren had managed to assemble additional bracing for the gate, and soon she was able to relinquish her magic and rest. The gate shivered under the weight of the monsters hurling themselves against it, but it remained fixed. She breathed a half sigh of relief, and allowed herself a moment to rest.

Now, only those on the walls were in any real danger of harm, and from their place high above behind the battlements they were well defended. Attrition would be their ally here, and with their might now so entrenched, it was likely only a matter of time before it would be safe for them to leave once again.

After having collected herself, she beckoned to a few of her kinsmen and instructed them to head deeper into the keep to the barracks. She instructed another pair to ensure the rest of the keep was in fact safe. Then, once they had departed, through the Shoraes she reached out to Phyrra and Vordrakel, scouting for our supply run has begun... do we know how many are out there?

 

[Phyrra]

Wiping her face clean with the rag proffered by Syr Ilvisar, Phyrra smiled. 'Thank you!' Pinching the now-bloodied rag between her thumb and forefinger, the Aerai warrior passed it back, a somewhat sheepish look on her face. She started to speak, only for her words to be drowned out by an almighty roar from below. The sound drew the eyes and arrows from many a defender.

Picking one from her quiver, Phyrra let loose as the monsters charged the walls.

By the time her first flight was in the air, she was already drawing back a second. A quadruped, one of the many amongst Arkhivom's horde, threw itself at the wall, managed to get a foothold. Leaning out, Phyrra brought it low with an arrow to the throat.

Needles pinged off the stones to either side of her as she leaned back in. Another arrow found its way to her string as she took a moment to evaluate the Enemy's number. Five or six dozen, she replied, a new target presenting itself every other second. Make it quick, Sister. We'll hold them for as long as we are able.

Magdeline Vailë Vordrakel Deaz'renith

 

[Magdeline]

Maggie took from the waterskin, and drank deep before she pulled its spout from her lips, and gave a nod to Tara in silent thanks. Passed it on to Ilvisar who drank from it quicker still.

"I will forever remember this kindness, Lady Ostára," Syr Ilvisar said, and took another small drink before passing the skin on.

How much a small drink of clean water gave them both.

"Of course they are looking for a battering ram," Maggie chimed, with dark humor. The gem at the heart of her armor glowed hot, and she could feel the pulse of flame's heat grow inside of her.

The true battle was just beginning.

Syr Ilvisar grinned. "How gracious of you, Blade Phyrra," he stashed it just as a roar ripped out, and their collective gaze shift to find it.

With white chalk pulled from his belt, Syr Ilivsar worked a hasty circle across the ground as all gave fight and took wounds in turn.

A bestial spine pingged off of Maggie's red plate. Near knocked her off balance, but the strange metal held shape, and the knight beneath it held ground.

A pulse from Syr Ilvisar's mind brought Maggie's attention to him. Saw the finished circle of communion there upon the stone. Marked with seals of fire and death.

A deep breath filled her lungs, and she stepped into the circle, drew in breath and felt the tinge of blood's iron there at the back of her tongue. Felt the heat of life spill and pool all around them as hearts beat fast. Her eyes turned to bright blaze, and as her hands came up, a ring of fire seared a bright halo of withering tongues above their enemy.

Twists and snaps of finger and wrist saw the energies channelled. A line curled its way down in twisting inferno. A cyclone of flame touched down upon the enemy number, and scorched its way across their ranks.

 

[Ostára]

"No thanks needed," Ostára hummed as she took back the skin and, after another small sip, tied it once more to her belt. Who knew when the opportunity to refill it would present itself and they potentially had hours left of the fight. Like all on the wall and indeed inside, her attention was fixated on the creatures running heedlessly towards the solid oak doors. The beast threw its entire weight against it again and again with seemingly little care for its own welfare. Indeed it seemed possessed. Not even the hailstorm of arrows sent it scurrying back to the relative safety of its own forces and instead it continued its steady, rhythmic attack.

"It's not going to hold," she murmured more to herself than anyone else. The oak was old and had not been treated for some time. There was only so much it would take before it gave out and the creatures would be inside again. Another golden arrow leapt from her fingers and plunged into the beast. She hadn't wanted to use more magic at this stage but there was little option for it. A soundless word left her lips and a deep boom echoed from where her arrow had pierced the creatures armoured hide. Silence didn't have a chance to follow for the creatures screech filled in the void. The loss of one of its limbs, however, seemed to do little more than fuel its fury.

 

[Vailë]

Six, even five dozen was twice as much as she had anticipated. Where all of these beasts come from, she could only wonder at this point. Perhaps the Demon's forces were not as mustered as they had at first supposed. Or perhaps... they were mustered far nearer than the had first supposed. She pushed the thought from her mind, as it would do her little good at present.

Her eyes fixed upon the wooden gates that held the monsters at bay, and it was not long before she too came to a conclusion very similar to Ostára, needing no mental connection to see the same thing. The question was nowhere near if it would last, only how long. Vailë guessed no more than an hour, and that was if the best of blessings were to be for them this day. And if those blessings were indeed coming, then the Swords she'd sent to find what they could in the barracks would be back soon with a bounty formidable enough to help them escape.

---

Stalking through the dark of the keep, the Aerai Swords, Tyelca and Laica, moved swiftly. Perceiving the urgency that their comrades now dwelt on, detecting their thoughts through the collective, they hastened their pace. Their feet traveled far with every quickened step, their movements made faster yet by the magic that ran through their veins, and pulsed through their bones. With it, they made short time to where they knew the keep's barracks to be. The entered in, and came upon a quarry they had not wholly expected...

---

The gate buckled, wavering under the sheer might of the monsters' unrelenting fury. They seemed almost ravenous, hungry to enter in. And too, they continued to hurl twisted arrows and wretched spines at those above on the battlements, all of them seemingly unhindered by any natural exhaustion.

From within the keep, there came a sound.

Thud... thud... thud...

There at the gate, the hinges buckled and the oak splintered.

"This is it," she called out, with voice and mind.

---

Phyrra | Magdeline | Ostára ​