Completed Knightfall

[Gerra]

Do you see them, in the pale dawn’s light? Four, if not more, but four would suffice. Gerra towered over them all. Hair red, skin dark ash, he rested his hand upon his hammer, which hung from a belt loop at his hip. Girded for war, in black gambeson beneath chainmail beneath more black cloth emblazoned with the flame of his father. He’d not had time to change - ever on the run since his war band was annihilated but a week and half since - the cause for the current gathering.

Of the few orcs who had survived the orc ambush at a village that no longer existed, none remained. All perished on the route to the coast. One from his wounds, the rest from wolves and bandits and a lynch mob in a human town.

When Gerra reached the coastal town of Ankhor, he reached it alone. With nothing but coin, he set himself to vengeance, for he could not return to Menalus in defeat.

He sent a letter to Sparhawk by swiftest mail, urging him to come to the coastal town of Ankhor by fastest route - and to bring with him any mages he knew who might work for coin.

At the inn, he found Corvus, a wild-haired mercenary, and hired him for protection when he slept.

After a few questions, he ascertained the location of a nearby Templar outpost, one manned by the Order of the Broken Sword. The very same who had ambushed him.

All in all, the preparations took over a week.

“If you’ve fighting men, gather them,” he told Corvus.

And now he met Sparhawk and Sparhawk’s friend, mercenary in tow, outside an inn on the outskirts of town.

The outpost would be a short distance by giant’s stride. He would come to know them along the way.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

"I need your help, Sparhawk."

Those were words that haunted Sparhawk's mind as he road for the Coastal Town of Ankhor. When he received it, he had just gone through a massive change. An irreparable change that set his life on a different course than first anticipated. Perhaps, he thought, this would aid him well in what Gerra requested. They had not met each-other since they had gone to the Blight-lands. Sparhawk promised that, whenever Gerra needed Aid, all he needed to do was ask it of him.

That time had truly come. Whilst sitting in a local Inn, wallowing in his own shame, he had a letter sent through his door, rather cautiously to add. Slowly reading across it's scrawled writing, the importance of it seemed pressed. Gerra was an Blight Human-Giant; one of the most magnificent beings he'd ever had the pleasure of the meeting, his size trumped only by his strength and might. He was not one to ask for help from just anyone, so this letter troubled Sparhawk deeply.

He wasn't even sure who he was anymore. After making his deal with Inmanu, he had physically changed: his eyes had a fiery glow and a scar spanning the right side of his neck, shaped like a rune, seemed to emit an ominous light whenever he attempted to use magic. His skin was unusually warm, and he struggled to sleep. It hurt. He wasn't even sure what he could unleash yet. What he was capable of.

He didn't have time to think about all that right now. He had a job to do. He had a battle to win.

He knew of no other companions to take with him on this journey. Only Myles is close enough. Not only is he a world away, Sparhawk wouldn't want to burden him. He knows not enough of the world to deal with the death that shall be seen...

Later...
​

This storm...

He had been riding for 4 days. Nemesis (His steed) was going on, strong as ever, his wings spanning far and wide, flapping powerfully in the Evening wind. The Storm was a strong one, no one could have anticipated it's awesome strength that night, the lightning crashing against the ground with great cracks that filled the air with electric terror.

He felt like saying something, to someone about what had happened, but the words couldn't escape his lips. The events of that last week had taken a toll, the deal he made weighing upon his shoulders heavily. He hadn't even told Myles about what he'd done. He'd need to collect him from the Elves as soon as he completed this quest, lest the Elves keep him for themselves. He needed to take lives, and a large quantity of them. No, large wasn't appropriate for that number. A terrible price, for awesome power.

He had begun to close in on the bay. He pulled the reigns of Nemesis, descending from the sky, and meeting the ground harder than he'd anticipated. They started off at a great gallop towards the village, making ground extremely quickly. His steed began to slow down, it's wings retracting into it's hide. They have arrived.

Sparhawk dismounted off of Nemesis.

"Go..." Sparhawk whispered into Nemesis' ear. He should return if Maho calls now. But he can't be having anyone trying to steal him. He's too precious an asset.

He began to walk towards the Inn, a small town, with not many people in the surrounding area. Overall, it was bleak, dark, and almost felt devoid of any real joy.

He waited now, for Gerra and whoever he may bring. Companions? Warriors? It did not matter. If Gerra thinks they are of use, he can believe in that.

It begins...

Corvus , Gerra , Telemachus​

 

[Former and the Foal]

Wait what, what you say tiny human. You know. Many people say horses are good listeners, and how well they understand. Nemesis was possibly even better at that depending on how you look at it, for he did not need to listen at all to know.

Let's get out of this place.
My last owner at least gave me some oats after 4 days of travel. Awful just awful. This is a town there is no food here...or wait...I smell it...The large horse sprouted its wings and with a few beats, he disappeared over the rooftops.

 

[Romeo Sin]

There were a few tales out there of a man named Corvus, but Romeo was not sure what was true and what was false. In a world where rumors were the highlights for noble dinners, and drunkards whispers, anything was possible. The word of mouth was never truly reliable, but he had gotten lucky. This man had been hiring at a tavern, and though Romeo had half expected something to become violent with meeting this fellow, it had been cleared to Corvus that this guy was a sellsword willing. It had not taken long, their brief business interaction detailed everything Romeo needed to know. Raid an outpost of Templars. Romeo had come to simply dislike such members of the Broken Sword. When he was younger, these were the men who had saved him, he knew this now, but as a child Romeo did not know what these zealots wanted from him. They did, however, trained him in the use of swords, and wearing armor. He simply perfected it his own way.

Now he was waiting to get started, he watched this quite large man he had no name for. Gerra was probably the largest being Romeo had ever seen, and he did not want to get on his bad side. Though, it was not long they were on the move. Romeo picked up his sword, placing it in its sheath on his back. Currently, the black hide jacket with white fur on his hood was all he wore, some simple chain mail underneath for minor protection, but Romeo preferred to be quick and light. The sword itself was a simple short sword, There were a few of them, mercenaries wanting a taste of this actions.

Romeo trotted along the group, keeping his eyes down and using his ears to listen.

 

[Anastasia]

Its an outpost

With a wooden palisade

And some tents

A watch tower probs

 

[Gerra]

"Sparhawk," Gerra rumbled as he approached the wizard, he glanced sidelong. "Was that a flying horse?... no matter. You came. I owe you a boon for that."

The half-giant turned abruptly and started walking out along a wagon-worn road, entourage in tow. "Not long ago I was ambushed by the Broken Sword." He said, speaking more to the air than to any of the companions.

"They slaughtered my warriors, almost to the man. The gods smiled on me and I managed to escape with my life. Honor demands I return this slight, lest they see the Molten Halls as feeble and without reach."

His head swiveled, ember eyes staring directly at Sparhawk. "We shall show them our reach."

By the time they reached a small copse, the sun hung high in the sky. The outpost lay within bowshot, a wooden palisade surrounded it, supplemented by a watch tower. The wooden gates lay open and Gerra glimpsed tents within.

 

[Saul Talith]

The Broken Sword Templar had been a mainstay of Alliria as far back as the third great Schism, before that they had simply just been another branch of the main Templar Order.

Of course since their fracture the Broken Sword had been the only Templar within the Reach. There were a few others that passed through from time to time, some that stayed within the ancient fortresses, but none lingered for too long. That meant they had been on their own.

At least until recently.

The deal that Saul had forged meant a few different Chapters now worked together, and part of that had been establishing these small outposts throughout different areas. Some were in the Falwood, others in the Savannah, and of course this one within the Reach itself.

The place was nothing to look at, a small hilltop garrison with a wooden palisade and a watch tower at the highest point.

Defensible, but hardly a fortress. Saul stood within, his arms crossed as he surveyed a small map on the table. Just opposite him stood a dwarf, the smaller more stoic man pointing to a place on the map. They had been discussing a more permanent outpost, when suddenly a call went up.

The bird call rang out as loudly as a whistle, and Saul's head jerked to the side. "Attackers?"

It was hard to miss a half-fire giant from a watch tower.

Fingers tightened for a moment and he stepped out of the tent, the Dwarf following behind him. The gates of the palisade were already being drawn closed, and Templar were quickly surging to their feet. None of them had any idea what the situation was yet, but these were professional soldiers, always prepared for the worst.

Anastasia | Skuld Zajac | Arya

 

[Corvus]

Corvus had been hired to watch over a half-giant in his sleep. Stranger things had been requested of him. He'd scrounged together some mercenaries, none of whom he knew, to help Gerra take his revenge, and he stood alongside the Gorc. Frankly, he didn't much care why the beast wanted to attack this outpost.

He cared about two things; coin, and staying sharp. That meant fighting. Real fighting, not practice.

But, that didn't mean he was dumb. He'd asked a few questions about Templars, and so he'd garbed himself a bit differently, and left Scalf at his tavern room to watch over his goods while he was gone. He was attired, now, like many of the mercenaries to be found in the area, and held a shield and hammer in his hands.

After all, if there were survivors, he would be easy to identify if he'd shown up with his wolf and furs. "Mm, what's the plan to knock the gate down."

 

[Romeo Sin]

The walking was fine, the chat kept the crazy quiet of a forest with company from sinking in, but the smell of Templar scum was nothing short of nostalgic. Corvus had finally appeared in the rumble of men, near the front with the giant and some new man who had been waiting for them. A sigh escaped Romeo's mouth as the question most were wanting to know became public.

"I got an idea." Romeo finally spoke up to the group.

 

[Gerra]

A loud whistle went up. Unmistakable. And the gates were closing. They'd seen them.

A half-giant in broad daylight with a bunch of vagabonds would tend to produce that result, Gerra supposed.

"We won't," Gerra rumbled to Corvus. "One moment, Master Sin. Sparhawk, the watch tower, please."

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

He had to admit, it was nice seeing Gerra. Sparhawk didn't have many friends in Arethil, fewer he'd aid in a conquest of a Templar Outpost. Seeing him was a relief, the extreme burden weighing on Sparhawk's shoulders loosening a little, the thought of the change he'd gone through releasing him from it's grip ever so slightly. He gave Gerra a smile, his consistent frown being shaken by the sight.

"Yes, it was. Good to see you, Friend." He meant that too. At a time like this, he needed to see those close to him. They began walking towards the outpost, working their way through a line of trees.

"They slaughtered my warriors, almost to the man. The gods smiled on me and I managed to escape with my life. Honor demands I return this slight, lest they see the Molten Halls as feeble and without reach."

"Truly. If they've done you wrong, i stand by you..." Moreover, there wasn't much he'd stand beside. Connections weren't a thing you'd make very often as a travelling mage, and hearing he'd been wronged made Sparhawk take a step back from the situation. To kill someone's men with such ferocity, for almost no reason at all; it boggles the mind.

They were looking at the Outpost. A small, but well defended one. A large watchtower stood, gazing above the encampment.

"Gerra, i- i need to discuss something with you. Tonight, i shall spill blood. I must, and time doesn't favour i explain why, but have my side when i fight." He was scared. Terrified. He'd killed 4 men in his lifetime, and those deaths have haunted him. Tonight, he may have to kill more.

They were surrounded by other mercenaries and warriors. A large, heavily armoured warrior stood above the rest, suggesting they stormed the gate. Probably not wise, the Templars are well known for their strong defences, and them attacking the gate may trap them under arrow fire.

"One moment, Master Sin. Sparhawk, the watch tower, please."

"The...? Oh, i see..." Time to see if his deal was worth anything. If not, he'd sold his soul for nothing. He had given up his future for nothing. He attached his staff to his back, fastening it so it wouldn't fall.

He breathed heavily, looking towards the tall, timber tower that loomed. Once again, he felt words adrift in his mind, making their way into his ears, whispering. Commanding:

B u r n

The brand that scarred his neck began to glow brightly, the twilight red lighting up the tree-line. Similar light began to build up between his hands, forming a concentrated ball of pure flame. He compressed his hands tightly together, the brightness forcing it's way through the gaps of his hands.

​

Forcing his hands forwards, the small ball of light that rested between his hands, powerfully expanded into a great crimson torrent of Fire; The inferno of which focused it's way towards the watchtower, it's molten grasp rocketing it's way to the rafters. His eyes glowed a great orange colour.

A worryingly sadistic smile spread across Sparhawk's face, followed by laughter, the wave of flame leaving his fingers - almost involuntarily - filling him with a feeling of pure fury and power.

Imamu had made well on their deal after all.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Gerra Romeo Sin Corvus Saul Talith The Steed of Hellet

 

[Skuld Zajac]

Skuld whistled sharply, sparing only a moment to aim upon the horizon with her crossbow, the bolt whipping through the air and missing the mage that had cast the fire she desperately attempted to escape from. The crossbow swung wide as she dropped it from her hands, the chain it was attached to keeping it from falling down the watchtower before her, but smacking hard against her back as it bounced off and came to rest at her side.

She grabbed either side of the rough ladder and clenched her teeth as she slid down as best she could. She could hear the raging fire only moments before it wreaked havoc on the watchtower, she nearly halfway down the structure as the flames smashed into it.

"READY YOURSELVES!" Skuld yelled to those around her as she plummeted to the ground below in a crumpled heap of armor. The wind coming out of her as she landed on her back, a sharp wheeze could be heard as she lay there for a moment.

 

[Anastasia]

Anastasia burst out of another tent, ducking just as the fire roared overhead and engulfed their watch tower.

What the hell was going on?

She shoved through the choas, grabbing Valerie's arm as the woman darted by.

"Attackers," Valerie explained swiftly. "I don't have answers. Greggor was scouting the perimeter."

Ana's eyes widened. She released Valerie at once and the woman went darting away without another word. To find Greggor, obviously. There was no saying if he hadn't already crossed paths with these attackers and needed help.

She turned in a wild circle, skimming what men they did have on hand for a familiar face. She spotted him among the other tents and quickly fell in at Saul's side. "An army against us?" She stated, at a loss.

"Have we poked a nest we weren't aware of?"


At the watch tower, calloused hands from another Templar picked Skuld up and placed her right on her feet. Two others helped Berrik hurry the fallen comrades away, the collapsing of the tower a very real threat. "How many did you count?" He asked her briskly.

 

[Skuld Zajac]

Hands picked her up, her breath shallow as another templar steadied her. "Four." She wheezed, still winded from her fall. "A giant. Three others." the words coming out between breaths.

"One mage, for sure." She nodded to the man in thanks as she pushed away and headed over to help as much as she could, her back singing with pain from landing on top of her shield. She pushed through it, carrying one unlucky templar from under a burning pillar that had fallen on them.

"Come on then." She gasped as she righted them, turning back toward the camp to figure out where everyone was going. The crossbow clanging against her side.

 

[Saul Talith]

"We might have..." He told Ana with a frown, his lips thinning as he motioned to her and pointed to the far wall. "Come on. Let's go see what the hell is going on."

He cursed quietly, what was this?

The Templar were quickly gathering, most of them already wearing their armor and pulling weapons free. Saul himself stalked through the camp, hand on sword hilt, helmet beneath his arm. The expression he wore on his face told of an extreme amount of displeasure.

"Knew we should have taken one of the old forts." The Outpost had been a compromise, a way not to dig up any old and lasting memories from a time where the Chapters had quite literally been at war.

One of the old Forts would have dredged up memories that were still at the forefront of some minds, but it also would have been far more defensible than a simple wooden Palisade. He scowled again, gripping the hilt of his sword a bit tighter as he began to bark out orders.

"Rally up!" The smoking remains of the Watchtower hung at the top of the hill. "Secure the gate and make sure the injures are taken to the back of the camp."

No need to get them involved further.

 

[Gerra]

Bare brows rose in surprise as Sparhawk torched the tower with a torrent of flame. The watch tower burned steadily now, a beacon of destruction. Sparhawk had been dabbling in necromancy when last he and the itinerant sorcerer spoke. Clearly his tastes had changed.

He watched the greed of the fire, remembering the smell of charring flesh and searing screams as Blight Orcs burned around him in the Necromancer Affair. Burned from Templar fire.

"Masterful work. Excellent. Most excellent. Now..." his eyes narrowed spitefully, "set the gate and palisades ablaze. We'll burn them out or suffocate them in the smoke."

The half-giant turned to Corvus. "You've battle experience," he stated simply. "Deploy your men as you see fit. When the enemy see their gates on fire, they may sally out."

Now, his searing regard shifted to focus upon Romeo Sin. "Your thoughts. Speak them."

 

[Corvus]

Corvus nodded, martialing the mercenaries around him. They were a rag-tag assortment of the usual suspects, from sword and board, to pikeman, bowman, and even a crossbow here and there. He'd made sure to gather the bodies to make taking an outpost an actually viable prospect.

It would come down to the wire, of that he was certain.

With a sharp whistle, one of the mercenaries pulled out a torch, and the bowmen gathered around, lighting their arrows. "Shields to the front." He commands, having dropped his thick Sheketh accent for one more common among the area. The shields maneuvered to the front, and without being told, the pikemen took up positions behind.

Locking into a wall, they prepared themselves for any incoming arrows from the outpost. "DRAW!" He commanded, raising the hand which held his hammer. The bowmen pulled back, concentration writ onto faces drawn as tight as their bowstrings.

"LOOSE!" Flaming arrows arced into the encampment, and as they drew for another volley, the torchmen readied himself again. Sooner or later, they'd hit paydirt, and something would catch fire. From there, it was only a matter of time.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

The view was beautifully terrifying.

The timbers were aflame, the rafters pulling themselves apart, falling to the floor with great thuds, and the screaming of Templars getting crushed by the heavy planks of wood. Gazing upon the now burning tower, Sparhawk felt as if he could set the very forests of the Falwood alight. The Embers from his blaze landing onto the grass below, charring the once green and nurtured grass. Blood started to drip down his neck, spewing from the Glowing scar on his neck, staining his robes.

"Masterful work. Excellent. Most excellent. Now..." his eyes narrowed spitefully, "set the gate and palisades ablaze. We'll burn them out or suffocate them in the smoke."

He turned to look at Gerra, a smile still smeared across his face. Light the palisades? Yes... smoke them out of their hole, suffocate them with our revenging smog...

He concentrated on the fire that covered the Tower. Slowly, the fire let it's grasp slip from the crumbling structure, directing itself back into Sparhawk's hands. Slowly, it formed a small ball once again, spinning slowly in his fingers. He looked towards the rafters; weak-looking, rickety, wouldn't last long under fire. Be bent his knees, as if he was drawing the fire into himself, and ejected the blaze from his hands in a violent burst, splitting into dozens of small spits of flame. They clutched onto the Wooden Palisade, the smoke raising into the sky, building quickly, the fire crawling to the top of the Timbers, spreading across the Palisade, slowly making it's way towards the gate.

Suddenly, his eyes and hands that once spew a great Crimson light turned dim, the brand darkening. The fire that once shot and blasted from his hands embered out, the great Flames that once shot from his fingers lost their fury, and the great blaze that grew on his hands died. And with that, Maho's eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell to the floor, violently vomiting his guts out (Not literally).

He lay on the floor, exhausted, the fire that clinged to the rafters still bright and furious. Breathing heavily, he rested on the floor.

In his trance, more words began to form inside his head, their origin still unknown to Maho...

W e l l d o n e . . .

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Gerra Romeo Sin Corvus Saul Talith The Steed of HelletAnastasia Skuld Zajac

 

[Saul Talith]

Fire was catching along the palisade, raising higher and higher as arrows landed among the canvas tents. He frowned slightly as he saw one of his men catch a flaming arrow in his shield, knocking the thing to the side and pulling it free. He glanced at his Commander for a moment, then shrugged.

"Ana." Saul said quietly. "Pull everyone back and leave the fort the back way."

It wasn't exactly like this was any sort of defensible position. Sure they had the hill, but if all of it was on fire and their encampment went soon after it was a worse decision to stay. Had this been an actual fortress his decision might have been different...but for now the best decision was to leave.

"Edwin!" He called to his friend.

"Fire back as we retreat, don't worry about the gate or the walls." Saul frowned. "They'll have to break through it if they want to catch us anyway."

He had no idea of their numbers nor who they were, but staying in this inferno was insanity.

 

[Anastasia]

Anastasia's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she nodded and briskly turned to obey.

It was unlike Saul to retreat from anything, but it was equally unlike their men to find themselves unprepared for an attack. No, whoever their enemies were, they would fight them on better terms. And eradicate them before they could harm an others.

She moved fast, one of the only Templar on the outpost deigning to wear none of that flashy, silver armor her fraction was known for. It got in her way, frankly. And in a moment like this, it would have no doubt have slowed her down and costed lives.

She pulled one man to the side, yanking him from the path of a flaming arrow. Orders were imparted left and right, the men obeying her as if she was Saul himself. As one of the ten in Saul's graduating class, they had a bond like no other and there was never a doubt that the orders she said came from Saul's own lips.

Retreat.

The mindset took over the small gathering of Templar. Behind those walls the bandits had yet to breech, organized chaos erupted as all movement directed towards the back of the outpost.

Ana pulled up to Skuld Zajac , a commander of another fraction, and said in hurried politeness, "It's time we leave. Let them have the straw and stone, we'll keep our lives until next time," she urged, aware that she could not impart Sauls orders onto her like she had done to the others.

"Commander?" She urged again, asking for the woman's decision.

 

[Skuld Zajac]

A few arrows had met their mark, only to bounce off of the plate armor harmlessly. Another templar appeared, no armor and spoke of letting the enemy take this position. For a brief moment, rage burned in her for the comment. The sound of fire quenched that rage as she turned and watched the flames spread.

Sighing, she looked to the woman with a nod before turning and two fingers came up to her mouth to emit a shrill whistle that cut through the chaos around them.

"Move to the back! Form up, shields in hand!" the woman yelled to any that would listen. "Move it! No sense in burning here!"

She didn't wait for them to start moving before she addressed the woman next to her. "Is Commander Talith calling for a rear guard yet? If so, I will assist the rear guard."

Skuld turned and ran after she got a reply to where her tent had been. The horse was frantic but had not been injured surprisingly. It looked like if he had been tethered, the story would have been different as she spied several arrows around her tent. After half chasing the beast for what seemed like ages, she pulled the crossbow to her chest and hoisted herself onto the stead.

A sharp hiss coming from her as muscles protested and she found her breath knocked out of her. Pushing through it, she counted her lucky stars that she only lost a tent with what other gear she had yet to unpack.

Being in a larger camp had made her uncomfortable to begin with, this attack only confirmed why she felt that way.

 

[Gerra]

Tongues of flame lapped the air like a pack of ravenous dogs, bodies swelling, growing, feeding their ravenous, insatiable hunger. Without, the red-orange glow climbed up the palisades. Within, embers danced among the tents like vengeful will o' the wisps. Smoke wafted, first in tentative curls, then in thick fumes as the feeding flames set canvas tents, wools, and wood all aflame.

Gerra stood distant from the fires, yet his eyes took on a hot glow, filled with satisfaction, bemusement, and surprise. Surprise at how easy it had been, to lay waste to this outpost. He glanced down at Sparhawk, who was on his knees, retching. Such power in the hands of a single man.

What might I wrought with you? He wondered, with a smith's mind.

The half-giant frowned down at the sorcerer and offered a hand.

"Well done. On your feet, Warlock."

Louder, to the rest of them, "They have either fled or perished by now, but if they've fled it will be in disarray, lacking proper supplies. We could pursue them. All who do would reap both coin and spoils. How speak you for these men, Corvus?"

Without food, the Templars would have to forage on their flight to nearest safety, if safety be far. That would leave them vulnerable. But Gerra had no desire to hunt them down alone.

If these mercenaries were satisfied with their coin, then they could pick through the ruined outpost and be on their way.

 

[Corvus]

Corvus was already going over things in his mind. If they hadn't come out now, they were already fled. If they had already fled, then either they'd find a token force inside, or they'd find nothing. Either way, they had a headstart on the mercenaries, and likely knew the land better.

A frown creased his face, and he ordered the men to stand down, which they did so warily.

"They can make their own choices, but, even if they lack supplies, we likely aren't far from another town or outpost. Unless you've got enough horses to chase them down, they're likely far enough away we won't catch even a fraction of them." He said this without fear, and did so only because it was his job to lead the mercenaries.

That meant he should act like a commander.

"We can attempt to hunt them down, as I'm sure the men would like a fight but, that assumes they haven't left a rearguard behind to keep us occupied while they flee. A rearguard likely still within the camp if they did do so."