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