Private Tales In the Moonless Night

[Phyrra]

Phyrra loosed arrow after arrow at the warband gathering around the base of the inner wall. Stone shook. Steel rattled. Keeping a tally became impossible. 'They're going for the gate!' A mercenary bellowed, winding his crossbow, his eyes on his weapon, and not the monster climbing up the wall towards him.

Not long now. She thought, putting an arrow between the monster's eyes as it appeared over the top of the wall.

Then came Vailë's warning. 'Brace!' Phyrra shouted, a heartbeat before the gates gave way. The whole structure seemed to shiver as the enemy poured in through the breach they had made. Arrows and throwing spears greeted them. The answering roar was cacophonous.

So, too, was the Chrysanthemum's war-magic.

Calling on her own now, Phyrra left the safety of the wall's leeward defences to target those enemies coming in through the shattered gate.

The defenders in the yard met them head-on, thrusting halberds and spears at beasts never before seen by mortal eye. She saw one man plucked from the ranks to be devoured. Another had his arm bitten off, only to kill the offending creature a moment later.

'Rally!' An Aerai warrior shouted, slashing left and right, his sword a blur.

Drawing an arrow to her ear, Phyrra kept on loosing, her arrows wreathed in the same fire-flame that was eating away at Arkhivom's monstrosities outside.

Magdeline Ostára Vailë

 

[Magdeline]

Fingers splayed and crooked as bent arms held the force of will that shaped the storm of fire.

Its long tail whipped and thrashed across the horde, scorching their ranks with tongues of flame that leapt, so hungry for fuel. As the arrow's magick ripped foe apart with precise and brutal application, Magdeline stood atop the runic seal, the burning gem transfixed at the heart of her armor, alight with the magick's of flame and death, facets aswirl with the azure and crimson.

Ilvisar grit his teeth, took up an axe and hack-hack-hacked at some twisted cord of flesh some fiend had spat up onto the battlments.

An spike pinged off his pauldron as he worked. A second glanced across his helmet. But again and again he brought the axe head down onto the grotesque chord, till it snapped.
-

Flame coated arrows struck forward from Blade Phyrrra's bow. Like stars against the dreadful night, they burned against the darkness.

Triton's hammer swung fierce behind the cry to rally. Crushed in the chest of one foe. Whirred overhead and smote down onto the head of another as Ulka's axe cleaved limb free from socket. Fists together, she rammed a foe down and brought her axe down again to take its head.

A claw stabbed through Triton's plate armor. Spiked appendages punched through the meat of his arm. The young knight groaned in agony. Grit his teeth and willed the earth beneath him to burst out in pointed columns that thrashed the beast back.

Ostára Phyrra Vailë

 

[Ostára]

There was a thrill to battle that seemed as though it would never grow old for Ostára. Perhaps it was the ignorance of youth still, but she enjoyed the satisfaction that came with felling an enemy before they could harm one of their own. As the enemy managed to erect the siege ladders and break the great wooden gates below, Tára flared her wings and took to the skies once more. A few of the enemy soldiers on the ground took the opportunity to take aim at the Avariel but more suffered below under the onslaught of her arrows so she decided the risk was worth it.

Her height advantage meant she spotted when one of the Knights staggered back from a blow through his armour. In grim determination she retrained her arrow from the beast she had been about to fell who continued to throw javelins in direction, and instead fired true at the enemy Triton had pushed back. The arrowhead pieced the creatures throat and Tára landed a moment later atop the body, like an avenging angel of death.

"You need medical attention," she called over the din of fighting, stepping forward to offer him support if she needed it. "We should fall back - to the inner keep."

 

[Vailë]

As the gates were pushed open, the first few monsters that made their way into the gatehouse were felled in a onslaught of electrified light from several Aerai warriors. The monsters fell into charred heaps, but they were quickly mowed over by the second wave, followed by a handful of sword wielding Aica-elves. Vailë darted forward, moving in step were several others, and together they engaged and stalemated the oncoming force - for the moment. Several swords behind them moved forward after a short while, and those at the fore moved back as they did, allowing them to take their place. And they rotated like this again and again, employing synchronicity of their minds to direct their movements together. But their foe too vastly outnumbered them, and they could keep this up for only so long.

It was in these moments when further retreat seemed their only option, when something else made itself present in the gatehouse. In from the inner keep, passing through the tall archways of Aerai architecture, a tall, lumbering thing appeared. It appeared as a gold and silver suit of armour wielding a large sword, standing about three meters tall, and plainly seen within it was crystal all too familiar to those who knew the Aerai.

As Vailë stepped back away, her attention on the fight was broken and she turned to see what followed behind Tyelca and Laica. She recognized it as a weapon of the first war - essentially a golem, infused with the powers of the Aerai - and she was amazed to see such a thing still in existence. The magic within it must have truly been powerful to have persisted for over a century.

Its head was an smooth crystal orb adorned with a blazing golden helm. With no neck, it hung by some unseen force over its armoured, crystalline body. Within the orb was a light that seemed to be in a listless, twinkling swirl. But as it entered into the gatehouse, this light quickly and sharply coalesced, and its focus turned and seemed to fix upon the monsters flowing in. With an eerie and instant insistence it started forward, its attention fixed upon the monsters, its posture one of hyper-aggression.

"Retreat," she called out, knowing that this was their chance to fall back and find a better foothold while the "golem" held them off.

---

Phyrra | Magdeline | Ostára ​

 

[Magdeline]

Triton grit his teeth, as carnage that mist about them, fell and rained upon the stones of the courtyard.

Had it not been for the Avariel's splendorous wings, the way they caught what little light pierced through the swirl of darkness, even as the spiral of flame blazed on.

It was the streak of star-fire arrows that snapped him out of the battle fervor. Long enough to hear the avariel's warning.

To the inner keep.

The Knight of Anatheaum nod. Grabbed up his warhammer with his healthy hand. Choked up on the pole, and hurried back.

Ulka let out a roar. Every chord of her throat ablaze with the fire of battle's rage.

The enemy swarmed, even as the giant construct broke forward. Crystal and armor smashed through the waves of enemies, whilst the defenders on the walls made retreat.

A hack of her great axe split a foe in twain. A second cleave left the corpse decapitated, as an Arai bolt of lightning dusted another entity of darkness, and one of the 13th's powers immolated a swath of foes.

One last grunt, one last chop. A turned soldier bisected before Ulka turned to retreat.

Into the Inner Keep the Knights moved. Maggie and Ilvisar tore through the enemies as they broke towards the friendly positions.

Phyrra Vailë Ostára

 

[Phyrra]

The arrows in Phyrra's quiver were running out fast. By the time the call came to retreat, she was down to a dozen. Hardly enough, she thought, fearless in the face of untold horrors. Nocking, she drew back her bowstring, revelling in the burn as she held, waiting for a target to present itself.

A gwathui made it past the golem into the yard below. A steel-tipped shaft punched into the space above and behind its left foreleg, felling it.

Then, Phyrra was moving, bounding down the steps after the last of the wall-defenders.

Syrs Ilvisar and Magdeline were amongst their number. Joining them, Phyrra hurried her way towards the inner keep, knowing in her heart and mind that they were almost out of options.

'On your right!' She shouted, using her true voice to communicate with those less accustomed to the ways of the Aerai. A pack of quadrupeds, more monster than men, came hurtling towards them, intent clear in the ways their jaws slavered at the sight of fleeing prey. One, a grotesque deserving of the name, hurled itself at Magdeline.

It took four arrows to kill it dead. And by then, they were nearly out of options.

'Inside!' She bellowed, letting fly the last of her ammunition. 'Quickly! Quickly!'

Ostára Vailë Magdeline

 

[Ostára]

Tára lingered as the others fled for the inner keep, following the call of their leader. Having no need to enter through the door she stayed behind to ensure those that did made it. Once she was sure the Warhammer was well she took off to land by another struggling soldier and another, passing along the word of the retreat. Phyrra's arrows took over from her own to cover their retreat allowing her to stop and help the last of their number who struggled behind, his leg shattered. Scooping him up in her arms she took to the skies and flew over the walls of the inner keep.

The courtyard below was frantic with those who were medically trained attempting to help those who could be helped. She set her charge down with care amongst their number and turned her eyes away as a pair of friends covered one unmoving body with their tattered cloak and tears.

Winding her way back she soon found Vaile, Phyrra and the knights discussing their next steps.

 

[Vailë]

The arrival of the old Aerai golem was a great fortune to them. As it moved forward and engaged the monsters, it seemed as though it on its own could fell them in swathes. It swung its mighty sword, and with every connection it made great flashes of near blinding light shone brightly. She was captivated by its brutality, and watched as it made light work of the gwathui that sprang upon it.

Yet she knew it would only be a matter of time. There were too many for it to face on its own, and even if they aided it they'd likely only get in the way with such tight quarters.

She marveled at it for only a moment more than she maybe should have, and then turned away and fled toward the inner keep.

Once they'd all made it safely inside, the gates there were sealed.

Vailë quickly took stock of those who were still present, and noted that only a handful of them had not made it this far, but several were injured. Those blessed with the gifts of healing worked diligently, but they were few among the Aerai. Only a couple of them were on hand for this excursion, but luckily they had both survived this far.

She drew near to the Knights and Phyrra, saying, "I fear this has strayed all too far from our plan... we should call for help. Tinúviel can send reinforcements."

It would take some time over such a great distance to establish a telepathic connection, but if two or three were to gather, it could be done relatively quickly.

 

[Magdeline]

Blood spattered, and out of breath, Magdeline came to a knee where the triage was being performed. One hand tight against the haft of her weapon, the other, near to the bright gem that blazed at the heart of her armor.

Ulka tended to Triton, helping the young knight be rid of his armor, and minimize the fissuring of his wound. Worked steady to clean the gore, and stem the bleeding.

Medicants were passed from Arai to Knight, to Avariel as needed.

Once her breath was caught, Magdelena found Phyra's gaze, met it with her own, and gave a nod of thanks for her quick act during the retreat.

Syr Ilvisar made sense of Sword Vailë's gambit. A nod made physical the affirmation he had sent through the web of their people's connection. "I've learned of rune weaves, channels we may etch unto the ground, to give shape to our linking, ease the burden's of the effort," he let her know, and wasted no time in procuring a bit of chalk stone he kept bound in a pouch still at his belt.

Small miracle it was still there, but the bit of kit was invaluable.

A wide circle, lined with runes and sigils. Ancient things, like as old as the stones that sheltered them. Each traced with the light of magick the Arai Knight imbued into them.

A locus of communion, that would help draw the magicks around them. Calm them. Give them a shape, like a channel to water, or a pit to a flame.

Phyrra Vailë Ostára

 

[Phyrra]

The gates were shut and sealed, the hardpoints manned. Unstringing her bow and handing it off to her second, Phyrra joined her kith and comrades as they discussed the next steps in what was shaping up to be a desperate last stand.

'There are certainly more out there than we were led to believe,' she said, endearingly calm in the face of imminent death.

'Call for them, then. I will organise a defence with those fighters yet left to us.' Pausing, she looked to each of them in turn; Vailë, Ostára, the Syrs-Anathaeum - powerful warriors all. But will they be enough? Or is this place to be our tomb? 'Lady Ostára! Syrs Magdeline and Ilvisar! You know your people best. Please, lend me thine ears, so that you may carry my instructions to them all the swifter.'

Time was of the essence, after all, and the enemy grew ever-hungrier.

Taking a step back, Phyrra surveyed the keep with well-honed intent, paying heed to the memories flashing across her mind's eye. She knew the structure well, had seen plenty just like it. War taught one much, if they lived long enough to learn.

Is this where my lessons end? She thought, explaining in precise detail the plan should they be forced back, deeper into the keep. Wisdom shared, she turned to face the gate. Rattling, bending under the pressure being applied to it from the outside, she knew it would be down sooner rather than later. An hour. Less than that.

Her blade still glowed as she drew it from her scabbard. Long and sleek, with a gentle curve to it, the blade had seen her through many an encounter. Her name was there, written in Aerai script, at the base of the weapon, just above the hilt.

Phy-rra~ Phy-rra...

'Phyrra!'

Blinking, she pulled her eyes from the steel in her hand. 'Yes, Rath? What is it?' Drawing back, her second bowed, relieved to see his charge returned to them. For a moment there, she had been lost in thought. 'It's Sword Vailë, Third Blade! She wished to let you know she managed to contact Tinúviel.' Phyrra nodded. 'And?'

His silence said it all.

'Then, I suppose there's nothing left for us to do but hold on long enough for reinforcements to arrive.' Bowing again, Rath left her alone to think, plan the battle to come.

So much for a simple supply run.

Ostára Vailë Magdeline

 

[Ostára]

Tara found herself captivated as she watched as Syr Ilvisar set about marking his runes. She quietly shadowed him, making sure to stay out of his way and not step on any of the chalked marks, whilst taking in every little detail. She had never seen such magic before. The Avariel's way was a different one, and not many were blessed with magic beyond the natural trickle that came from elven blood. She couldn't help but wonder what this type of rune magic might do for her own people, how it could work...

Phyrra's words pulled her from her musings and she was once again reminded they were in fact in the middle of a dire situation.

"My father would not be far I believe from your Commanders, and flight is often faster than foot. I am sure he will come if your general so wishes," for Ruhn would not move unless ordered to do so even if he wished to see his daughter and know her to be safe. "I can also do a sweep, try to gain some knowledge of our enemy whilst we wait."

 

[Vailë]

Vailë watched with a similar interest, though not so closely, while Syr Ilvisar drew with chalk. Aerai magic was, by and large, far from this type of casting - though they were works that more experienced of them dabbled in and learned. Vaile was not such a one, and so this, though not totally alien to her, filled her with curiosity. She was not entirely sure how such markings would enhance their inherited gifts, but she trusted the Aerai Knight - kin of hers who had adopted the ways of Anathaeum.

A nod to Phyrra, signalling her trust in leading the defences while she saw to the communion.

And then to Ostára she said, "it is my hope that it is he and your kin who come to us. I fear any others would arrive far too late. See what you can, if you can do so safely."

---

In the rune, three came together with the joining of hands. With eyes closed, they lingered there for a few moments, silent and still. And then together their voices slowly rose in a wordless hum. Their eyes became open and there was light therein. Luminous ribbons of dim light took shape around them, listless at first and then coalescing in between them. And there in the rune, the Aerai found that their powers were made stronger, and to their distant kin did their minds reach and call to with an ease even they would be astounded by - if time allowed for such marvel.

Soon the ritual came to and end, and departing from there with exhaustion plain on her face, she said with hope in her voice, "the Avariel fly to us, with all haste in their wings."

---

Phyrra | Magdeline | Ostára ​

 

[Magdeline]

Be it magick of the blood or magick of the soul. All magicks were governed by the same principals. All magicks were governed by that well of power that flowed between the world. Between the hearts and minds of the living. Within the memory of the perished. Across the sky of night, and in the warmth of the sun itself.

Lines, shapes, symbols with their own memories and meanings there in, served then, as the three Arai stepped into the runic circle, to tie the energies shared all the tighter. Each mind which gave each word, added threads to the twine that became chord, rope, and web of power.

And whilst they communed, and their minds called out across the span of the shoraes, that collective mind that served as an island amidst the sea of all subconscious thought that many called the dreaming, and the Knights of Anatheaum knew as the Loch, Syr Ilvisar tended to the runic network he had traced upon the stone. Added his energies, where he felt the flow of magick still, and drew from the weave where he felt too much there that threatened to burst.

---

As the call for the defense rippled across the ranks, Magdeline found the brave Avariel who had pulled Triton from the jaws of death.

A stick of tacky oil in her hand, blackened with coal. She showed it to her. "I can apply seals to your armor," she let the scout know. "Wards that might save you from an arrow that would find you," she knew it sounded strange. But a wind ward did marvels against most feathered missiles sent streaking after their barer. "Takes but a moment," she assured, in her own strange armor, the bright gem at its heart glowed like a molten core. "Least i can do for you saving Triton," she smiled weakly.

Should the Avariel consent, Magedeline would make quick work of the application. A moment longer would see her magicks imbued into the markings. Wind for wording. Flame to give the flesh and blood more vigor. Strength and speed.

No matter the outcome, she and Ulka would take up the defense as the ritual passed.

"At your command, Third Blade," Syr Magdeline assured. Ulka nod her agreement.

---

Phyrra Ostára Vailë

 

[Phyrra]

Communion made, the gathered warriors went to their posts with the knowledge that relief was on the way. 'All we have to do is hold out.' Phyrra had told them, speaking openly, her voice calm and assured. She had arranged for additional defences to be erected in the hallways and spiral staircases. To keep them busy, to keep their minds off the threat outside.

The main door shook violently, iron bars jumping in their brackets.

Not long now, she thought, signalling to the others to make ready. Fresh quivers of arrows had been dispersed amongst the waiting archers, and a thorough search of the armoury had turned up weapons suitable for the kind of close-quarters fighting she expected in the minutes to come. Those, too, had been handed out. Now, it was just a matter of facing the inevitable.

Phyrra's sword hand twitched as the door shook again. She could see the strain the hinges were under, how the brick and mortar was crumbling away, old. Doomed. Grey eyes flickered to the winged form of Ostára.

'Perhaps now would be a good time to take to the skies, Lady!' The enemy were coming in regardless. Having warriors outside, above and behind them, could well split their forces. Of course, the Avariel was only one woman; one woman could well turn the tide of this engagement.

And if not, at least someone would survive long enough to carry their tale back to their friends and allies.

With a cacophonous groan, the main doors finally gave way. Monsters of all kinds poured in through the breach to be met by a hail of arrows and thrown missiles. Glyphs triggered, bathing the frontrunners in fire and ice. Many screamed as they burned, or else shattered as their limbs froze in place.

Then, they made it to the barricades.

Ostára Vailë Magdeline

 

[Ostára]

Ostára watched in bemusement as the strange Knight drew their odd symbols over her armour. She knew not what they would do combined with the magic imbued into the metal by the Aerai who had gifted them so long ago, but she was curious to see and so she allowed it. If it worked perhaps she would ask for the same to be done for the rest of The Thirteen.

When Vailë and Phyrra both urged her to the skies for the battle about to break out she complied with a smart bow, hand fisted over her heart. With wings the colours of the dawn sky she rose above the battlements to survey what lay beyond.

Truly the darkness was a plague. Despite the number she knew they had felled the gathered force seemed to not show any sense of feeling that loss. It swelled and gathered like a swarm, creatures crawling over one another in their impatience to reach the tender flesh of elves and enchanters beyond. Tara grimaced. A cry went up from the gathered darkness and clawed nails pointed in her direction. A single arrow was loosed which she caught with easy, putting it to her own bow and releasing it back at the creature who had dared to fire on her, piercing it through the eye.

But what caught her eye was not just the hoard but the cliff above them. An idea came to her and she alighted once more on the courtyard below.

"What if we trigger a rock fall?" She asked to the group who seemed to have become the small council governing these forces. She pointed to the cliff she had spotted and the large boulders that hung tantalisingly on the edge. "I would need help but I can fly one of you with me with ease, it might cause them to flee or at least crush a good number."

 

[Vailë]

Wood splintered and cracked. Metal twisted and bent.

The gates came open with a terrible slam, and just as abruptly did weapons and magic fall upon the open doors with fury. Vailë, spent of her reserves from the ritual, relied solely on her blade.

She swung swiftly, ripping past a monster's defense, rendering it limbless. A swift twirl of the blade left it headless. Up now her blade met black steel. Her feet grounded firmly, sliding apart just so.

Steel slid across steel. She stepped behind one leg and then over.

Another strike. A parry. A caught step and a quick knee. Then her sword was buried in the back of her foe, and quickly torn free of sundered flesh.

She spun around, calling out with desperation in her voice, "Phyrra! To Ostára!"

Then, again her blade swung around and in step her foot slammed down, planted as her sword met and deflected the talons of a monstrous beast flailing wildly. Then a step back. Another parry, one more step and then abruptly forward with a stab, lifting the beast off its feet.

---

Magdeline | Phyrra | Ostára​

 

[Magdeline]

Triton stepped to Ostara, "I can will the stones to move," he said sure of it and ready.

Magdeline's brow furrowed. Worry tight about her eyes. A nod. "That he can,"

The sound of their enemy fast approaching drowned their thoughts as the acting commander rang out. Magdeline looked to find the Sword Phyrra, Ulka already axe deep into the chest of one creature. Magdeline hefted up her poleaxe, and hurried forward. "Go now!" She called out, and buried her weapon's head in the crook of something's neck.

A shimmer of heat steamed about her armor, and flames seamed to lick at the wake of each strike.

But a weight crushed into the Red Knight's side and knocked her to the ground.

Phyrra Ostára Vailë

 

[Phyrra]

The enemy dead piled around the gate did little to dissuade the rest from attacking. Blinded by hunger, enraptured by the blood in the air, they cared naught for their own safety. Armoured carapaces turned blades, deflected arrows. Needle teeth flensed flesh from bone, devouring as they went.

Phyrra's arrows found faces and throats, killing fast, killing slow. Blood flecked her pale face, scattered dots of crimson across a plain of porcelain. She had lost count of the foes she had slain.

And yet still they come, she thought, discarding her bow as the enemy rushed the barricades at the top of the steps. Her blade, dancing with magical light, whispered free of its scabbard just in time to parry a blow. Throwing her opponent's guard wide open, she riposted, hacking down a corpse in rusted plate. Another took its place. And another.

I'm a little busy here! she replied, blade-binded, until the Chrysanthemum, Ulka, put her axe to the test. Send-... the knight! He knows what is required of him! Ducking beneath a crush of claws, Phyrra drove her blade up, through chin and skull and into brain.

The monster twitched as, together with Ulka, she hurled its body back into the horde pressing the stairs. Then, she heard Syr Ilvisar cry, 'Mags!'

Trading places with Rath, Phyrra followed the echoes of his voice to where the Red One lay, a monster pinning her down. It had come up over the balcony behind their line, slaying the crossbowman stationed there. A second creature was just reaching the top when Phyrra started to run.

It died quick, its headless body sagging against the railing before plummeting back down to the ground floor. The one worrying at Magdeline's armour died much the same as Phyrra struck its head off.

Yet more blood stained the elf's armour as she dragged its corpse off the fallen tiefling.

'Now is no time for rest, friend!' Phyrra smiled as she pulled the woman to her feet. 'We've a fight needs winning, as Syr Ulka likes to say. That is how she says it, yes? "Needs?"'

Ostára Vailë Magdeline

 

[Ostára]

"Try not to be sick," was the only warning Tára gave the geomancer before stepping within his guard and wrapping her arms about his waist. It was a true testament to the strength of an Avariels wings that even with the man's armour and weight, with two powerful sweeps of dusky wings they were airborne with dizzying speed.

Arrows soared for the targets. Without her hands Tára could do nothing to protect them and so the pair would have to trust their armour, and pray their enemies were bad shots. Instead, The Arrow focused her attention on her speed and flew hard for the cliffs edge, sweat beading her brow.

In nicer conditions she would have lingered, showed the knight the joy of flight and chosen gentle currents with which to drift upon. Her lips twisted into a grimace at the thought this would be the man's first impression. Flight should be enjoyed not rushed.

As the cliff drew nearer Triton would no doubt see the rocks that had caught Ostára's attention. Along the edge boulders of various sizes lounged like sleeping cats. Boulders which would crash nicely into the jagged spikes further down and take them down the pathway with them. It would be a deadly landslide for all caught in it's wake.

Tara's wings shuddered awkwardly as she slowed them to land. Gusts of winds buffered the grass and stirred up the smaller rocks in a swirl about them. Their feet hit the ground hard and Tára stumbled. When the dust settled the reason for her less than smooth landing became clear: a thick, dark arrow shaft speared her wing, it's barbed head a bright gold with the Avariels blood.

 

[Magdeline]

Should Triton live to tell the tale, he would like to have said that he faced each challenge he had met bravely. With composure and austere determination.

At the flap of Ostára's wings, the sound that came from his throat was anything but. "YEAEAHAAAAaaEEAAA!!!" A scream, loud and shrill that pierced any sense of bravery one would hear tell round the campfires.

Still, with each buff of strong wings, and the sure carry of steady hands, the panicked fear turned to thrilled hoots. The dips and sharp turns had them peak high again before they fell. "Oh shit, oh shit," he cursed. "GODS ABOVE!"

A volley of arrows and spines bolted towards them. The wards that had been painted on flared with green zephyerous sprites. Flung bolts stray from their mark.

When the land came fast and hard, Triton grunt from the shock, but managed to tumble back up onto his feet. His eyes quickly shift to find the Arrow.

"Lady Ostára!" he hurried over to help her stay up, his eyes full of the golden mess that marred her beautiful wings. "I, I can heal you!" he stammered, quick. Face tightened as he remembered their shared duty. "Hold strong, please!" he bade as he moved away, pulled a sharp dagger, with a cedar handle, and worked fast to carve runes into the earth with his wand weapon.
--

Magdeline felt near suffocated, till the horrid thing was ripped off of her, and a familiar face pulled her up off the ground. A clasp of hands against wrists, and nod as she found her feet again.

Her weapon, still firm in her main hand.

"That's how we say it, aye," the tiefling grinned. Clapped the Araie across the shoulder and turned to see Ulka squared off against some towering behemoth on four legs.

The Orc Knight roared her challenge, battle axe gore painted and held strong.

The beast, an amalgam of cat, spines, and long beaked snout, hissed and rattled as all of the quills along its body shook their horrid rattle.

Ostára Phyrra Vailë

 

[Vailë]

Horrendous, merciless death.

That was all there ever was in Aeraesar anymore. ​

Her sword cut through the defenses of yet another monstrosity. Blood wicked down the blade, and beads of it were hurled in a splatter nearby. Beaded sweat followed suite. A ragged breath left her lips.

Year after year...​

Rearing up, shining talons raised high to come crashing down upon her. Eyes of blazing hate bearing into her soul.

Again and again...​

With swiftness she ducked to the side as it fell upon where she'd stood. She slammed the butt of her hilt into the side of the creatures skull. It cried out and stumbled to the side, just as another leapt to take its place and assail her.

... was it ever going to stop?​

Mustering what strength she could she employed her magic around her. It proved only enough to give the beast pause, causing it to slam against the unseen force that had taken shape around her. But with its impact, this force then vanished.

Vailë's knee's buckled.

Teeth gritted together beneath a snarl as her sword whirled up.

A hard strike came suddenly against her wrist. Her voice cried out, and her sword fell from her grasp. And then with a swift swipe did the beast's claws come upon her, thrashing against her armour. The wards placed upon it then failed, and with a splitting light like shattered glass she was propelled backward and off her feet.

The beast loomed overhead.

Her eyes lifted up.

...was it ever going to end?​

 

[Ostára]

Ostára grimaced as she lifted her wing to inspect the damage. She had felt the bolt hit during the flight but had not dared to let it slow her, deciding a few torn ligaments would be preferrable to falling into the swathes of the army below and being butchered. The agony eased now she was not having to move the injured limb and when Triton offered his aid she shook her head ruefully.

"I'm fine, I've suffered worse," she commented lightly and moved over to one of the other boulders whilst the Knight bent to work his magic. The Arrow might not have had his geomancer gifts but she was stronger than a human in raw strength. Putting her hands, then shoulder, against one of the giant blocks of rock she pushed with all her might. There was a creak, then a groan, as the boulder toppled forward.

 

[Rûhn]

Rûhn's teeth felt as though they might shatter with how hard he clenched them. It was not often he was described as one of the faster of the Thirteen but in that moment, he was more than just the Hammer. He was a father racing towards his child and nothing that Hel had spat out would stand in his way. His determination meant he was even keeping up with Oriane relatively well.

It had been only an hour earlier that they had received the plea for reinforcements to the party in the North that The Arrow was a part of.

"Faster, Ori. Go," for he knew The Spear could push ahead and reach their mark first. The advantage might be all their army would need to hold on for a few minutes more for he and the rest of The Thirteen to reach them.

 

[Oriane]

Oriane was not one to disappoint.
At his urging, the Spear adjusted herself to surge forward, her wings cutting through air like no other ordinary Avariel could.
But they were the Thirteen.

Many of them had taken up training with the Spear in order to keep up, to train their wings to specifically take less drag from the air. Rûhn knew all the tricks, was always counted on to follow closely, but he was right when he knew Oriane cold go faster.

She arrived in a blur of gold, armour still glistening despite the battles she had fought in recently, her wings strong and spread in her descent to mark her arrival, and her Spear, a sparkle of what was to come. Oriane did not stop until she was in the chaos of battle, knowing there was no need for her to look to the Avariels already present. She knew the Hammer would see to that, while Oriane brought her Spear to hold and impale the skull of a creature that loomed over an ally.

Relentless, the golden winged Avariel fought fiercely until there came a wide radius of calm around herself and Vailë afforded them only a few moments for Oriane to help the other up.

"Can you still fight?"

 

[Magdeline]

With the last rune traced into the earth, the structure of the locus was set. A cold glow, azure and verdant, pulsed across the cannals his tool had carved out. Triton had stepped into the locus, and fallen into his spellwork, his lips moving to form sounds of stone. Sounds of the mountains. Words of the dwarves. Words of the hill tribes and the boulder-folk.

Words woven into power.

As Ostara's first stone toppled and came free from the earth, fell straight onto their enemy, Triton stomped the ground, his eyes opened, his fist clenched, and with a firm spike of motion, his hand shot forward in open palm.

The earth before him rumbled. Shook. Surged out, as if it were turned to water and wave. The land lurched, and those slumbering cats came to life as the lip of the cliff slid away. Tons of earth, and solid bodies of rock, crashed down and swallowed up the enemy number in a roar of terrestrial wrath.