Open Chronicles Rumors of War

[Douglas Haley]

He didn't hear her words over the ringing in his head, he barely made out her face in the chaos that was his vision. Between the men fighting amidst them, and the darkening tunnel that threatened to consume what little sight he had left - he couldn't even be sure she was real.​

​

All he could tell now was that she wasn't wearing a golden lion nor the black banner of his company. She didn't have the insignia of the King - therefor she wasn't a friend. If she were real, then she would die - face covered in dirt, blood soaking the earth, just like all his friends that lay around him.​

​

He roared, lifting his sword up and forward in the hopes of sliding it beneath her ribs - to cut her lungs from her chest and bleed her black heart dry. Douglas moved, however, with minimal grace - the blow to his head upset his balance, but his strike was true enough. He wasn't the best warrior, but he'd be enough to kill her.​

​

Tinus Damos // Ashuanar // Visha Sofka​

 

[Visha Sofka]

Douglas's sword pierced into Visha exactly where and how he'd aimed. For a moment she didn't react, grin unbroken, same expectant and gleeful look down at him. Then her eyes trailed downward. She looked at the sword in her chest. Eyebrows raised. And a battle between maintaining her grin and glee and suppressing a withering grimace began.

"You're right," she said to Douglas. "I did forget to say please! Let me tell you something..." She coughed, pink saliva dribbling out of her mouth.

"You should sharpen this thing. How much tolaro did you spend on this?" she said, referencing the lowest denomination of Elbionese currency.

As her expression devolved further into a pained grimace, her increasingly nonsensical words nevertheless retained a relentless, if struggling, cheer. "Biscuits. Don't forget to eat breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day."

Her legs gave out, and she slipped from the impalement of the sword and flat onto the dirt. Critically wounded and babbling still. "So that's when I told him, 'No, you keep your underwear on, mister!' Ha! Can you believe that??"

Douglas Haley Tinus Damos Ashuanar

 

[Musah]

Cyra Al-Dushar rode atop her steed in the Emperor's party. The beauty of the desert had only been allowed to come as a representative for her sick father. That had originally made her quite excited, but once again she was only here as a puppet piece. Her tribe was being led by Maliki, while she was only left with two bodyguards and to be a pretty ornament piece for the Emperor.

Yet, she had not complained. She would be patient and wait for the right time to make her move. Cyra was willing to acknowledge her shortcomings when it came to the knowledge of war. Raiding was rather easy, but this was something different. As Cyra watched the battle unfold, she could not help it as a slight frown appeared on her face.

"War, such a necessity. Yet, so brutish."

She watched as the half-giant entered the fray against her people and she almost instinctively spurred her horse to action. A warning glance from her guard convinced her not to, but she cursed in frustration. These people, her people, the empire's people were going to die. She might not be able to help as much as others, but she could still help. Not sure what good it would do, she unslung her bow from her back and slowly began to make her way closer to Gerra. If she was going to spring in to action then she wanted to be of service to her emporer.

 

[Tinus Damos]

Alcazar- Kellish Forces

The third cavalry proved to be less devastating than the second one had been. Already the Kels had spread themselves out to avoid becoming an easier target for their mounted opponents. But more men were lost to it. Their souls would need to be freed so they could join their ancestors.... Something for after the battle.

The biggest issue the cavalry faced was they had no way into the city. The fighting was at the gate with Kel blocking them off there as well as the lighter horses of the Kels were already upon them stabbing with spear and blade. They were lighter and faster so there would be no out running them and reforming for a charge might prove impossible depending on their state.

The fighting all over had broken down into a stalemate. Neither side was giving any ground or making any progress. The only thing that took place was the trading of wounds and death across their lines.

A cloud off in the distance revealed outriders were getting nearer from the relief army. The Kels just needed to keep holding out.

=====
Alcazar- Tinus

The Cortosi were proving to be insane, as usual. They had bottlenecked themselves at the towers so were being stopped by the Kel forces on the walls from reclaiming them around the gate. Their numbers meant little so how did they plan to fix this issue? They made a ram out of a log and were trying to break through them as if the Kellish shield wall was a gate.

The worst part was it was it was working, some. Every time it hit the wall, people were forced back in the wave of bodies reacting like sea grass to the tides. They had been pushed back just enough that it was now dangerous for anyone in the back as they might get knocked over the edge of the wall.

This was the situation Tinus had found himself in. Somehow he had gotten wormed into the very back when he was originally in the middle of the mass. His back was to air and his legs to stone. Each hit threatened more and more to see him toppled over if his center of gravity shifted just a bit more that way....

And then it happened. He had just recovered and was trying to rebalance himself when the Cortosi defenders started to use another log ram. The entire rhythm he had gotten use to was now in chaos and he was sent flipping back over the wall.

His hands barely managed to grip the edge, but his armor was dragging him down. It was like trying to trek through narrow mountain paths back home. He knew he would surely slip and die if he did nothing as well.... So he did what he would always do while back home if this happened to him. He supported himself with one arm while getting his climbing spikes slipped over his palm.

And just as he got the last one on and was ready to get himself drug back up, someone's fat ass knocked his hand holding him up off the edge. He began to fall along the edge of the wall. There was no stopping what was happening. All he could do was try to channel the energy of a squirrel and slow himself down enough to land safely.

So he drug his palms and toes against the wall. The sudden jerk along his limbs telling him it was working, until they lost their bite and he had to do it all over. Again and again he did this from the top to the bottom.

When his feet felt ground, he let his knees bend and he went tumbling across the ground. His left shoulder was the first to hit and he could feel it wouldn't be moving right for a week once the swelling started already. But for now he might still get some use out of it.

He got back up to his feet and quickly looked around. Cavalry, Kel and enemy. Kel soldiers and dismounted foes. Some fool got struck in the head and then ran through an unknown woman who had approached him. None of their words were heard but if his clear enemy stabbed her it meant she had to be a friend.

So he took off at a sprint. His weapon lost to the fall. No time to find it. He would have to resort to his dagger if something came up. He came upon Douglas Haley and Visha Sofka from the direction of the wall, one likely not even dreamed of being an option, and instead of tackling the armored man to the ground he scooped up the wounded woman off the ground.

From behind his masked he shouted out in that poetic, song like language of the Kels and got the attention of a pair of riders. They rushed over towards them as Tinus ran with the girl in his arms towards them.

Douglas could either try take after Tinus to stab him in the back or get away before a Kellish lance ran him through this time.

Tinus looked down at Visha and said, "I have you. Going to a healer. Stay with me."

He prayed his ancestors gave him the strength to survive this as well as her.

Gerra Kjaran Mak Aodha Ashuanar Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal Mirielle Merlon

 

[Douglas Haley]

Douglas took a moment to stare at the girl as she fell - and how she kept talking. She was an opponent, he reminded himself - she wouldn't be here if she was innocent. There was nobody innocent on a Battlefield - but he realized a second late that the gates were open, citizenry was scared. Where had she come from?​

​

He glanced to the city for a second - watching as people poured out, and he could've swore peasant burst through the fighting. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? He killed a combatant, he reminded himself, she wasn't innocent.​

​

There were no innocents on the Battlefield.​

​

His attention and lapse cost him - she was picked up and dragged away, and two horseman moved to Lance at him. His sword came up quick, but it only stopped the Lance from impaling him. It slammed into his breastplate and sent him rolling; directly onto his heels as another man charged him with a downward swing.​

​

He caught the blade with his flat - his sword snapping near the middle. There was a second of fear in his throat before he twisted it around and jabbed the jagged edge into the man's throat. Another approached quick - a hammer to his back. It changed through the armor, bruised him instantly - and he let go of his sword. A twist and his gauntlet ended up in another man's face - the steel twisting flesh and breaking bone.​

​

He picked up the hammer and reminded himself, there were no innocents on the Battlefield. A slam of the steel hammer into the nearest man's head filled his mouth with blood and brain - forcing him to almost gag before another hit slammed him in the back of the leg. He dropped his knee and blocked another strike, but a boot heel caught his chin as he was sent careening to the ground.​

​

In the distance, he could hear the armies March. The King of his enemies was near, and his men had failed to enter the city in time. Men all around him fought and bled, golden lions stained crimson with the dark life essence of his friends. Another hammer almost hit him before he caught it with his hand - and he forced a cry out between the adrenaline filled breaths he gasped for.​

​

And then only darkness.​

​

---​

​

The area was suddenly in flame - winds of unmatched magical potential culled the masses outside the city as it spread great and terrible. A scourge of magic never before seen began to tear at the walls and foundations - blowing stone from brick, mortar from dirt, and men into the sky. Lightning struck, cries were loud, and pure magical energy began to create a swirling mass of clouds in the sky.​

​

Those who died first were the Band of the Lion, so near the epicenter. Like a typhoon, they were sent into the sky with cries of fear - and turned to Ash only a few meters into the air. Lightning struck again, great thunder took hold of every sense a man had, and the city began to fall away.​

​

The great King who fought valiantly in the gates was not spared the wraith. His men were turned to viscera, expunged from the tunnel the gate formed like an explosion in a pipe. Those on top of the walls were grace some relief - but only for a moment before the great magical storm began to tear even that down to the foundation.​

​

Soon, the city would be faced with darkness - and for those far from the city they would only see dark cloud and an ill omen. In the clouds above the city - the legendary face of Drakormir formed amidst the clouds. His gaze was focused on everything and nothing- but he was as much a mirage as he was real, a form in the clouds.​

​

And amidst it all, Douglas reminded himself; there were no innocents on the Battlefield.​

​

Tinus Damos // Visha Sofka // Gerra // Ashuanar //​

 

[Kjaran Mak Aodha]

Ferdinand Vezzini wiped blood from his mouth and took a look around him. The tercio was still holding but anyone viewing it from the air would have seen how ragged the lines were or how chewed up the bastions looked. Soldiers leaned on their pikes for support, eager to grab any bit of a break they could.

They'd beaten off the first Kaliti rush but they'd come back again and he had no desire to die in some Alcazar field with an arrow stuck in him. They'd just swarm the square and loose every shaft and javelin they had at it until all that was left was a huddled mass fighting back to back. He'd seen it happen before on their own ill fated expeditions to the other side of the river.

"Sound the retreat" he said, hating the sound of the words in his mouth. A wild eyed trumpeter spat and then began to play it. Weary soldiers pushed to their feet and began a slow almost sombre march to the rear. Castles didn't move fast, the tercio would have beaten a glacier for speed but not much else.

Kjaran kept turning every few paces to stare back at the Kaliti. They were licking their wounds too but too many had burning eyes, ready to have a go again for honour's sake. Sergeants and corporals barked orders, keeping the ranks together and threatening dire fates on anyone moving too quickly.

"Ware left!" the warning cry went up and a section of crossbows loosed a volley at a squadron of cavalry chancing their luck. The Kaliti wheeled away though the most foolhardy rider pitched off his horse with a crossbow bolt in his gut. His screams were pitiful. Most of the Cortosi horse were dead or routed, the survivors either hugging close to the tercio or marching on foot.

Kjaran closed his eyes for a moment. It was going to be a long bloody march to the siege camp with them dogging their heels every step of the way.

 

[Gerra]

The pike square pulled back.

A storm enveloped the outer walls of the city.

Death and fire and lightning all around.

And a foe screaming his name.

Gerra turned toward the cry and saw a figure, equal to him in height or taller, wading forward.

"Ride him down," rumbled the Emperor to his charioteer.

Then, as the wheels ate up the distance between them, the son of Menalus lit the clay pot of naptha in his hand and hurled it with all his might at the approaching figure of Ormr. On it hurtled through the air, spinning end over end, destined to smash against its target or - being struck - burst asunder in a spray of pottery shards and a spatter of burning coal tar and peat jelly.

* * *

The Kaliti pulled back from the retreating square and the sudden storm enveloping the siege camps. The visage of a dragon loomed in the crowds and the lector-priests among the host cursed as they felt the spirit of Drakormir manifested by some fool magi.

They uttered their scroll-prayers to their Annunaki gods. They called upon Iasimu most of all, that goddess of storms, begging her to quell the sudden typhoon before it swept them all away.

Douglas Haley | Tinus Damos | Visha Sofka | Kjaran Mak Aodha

 

[Ormr]

The Half-Giant broke through the ranks of Kaliti Foot Soldiers, many of them withdrawing to answer the call to regroup which seems to have passed over the army.

As he came into the clear the Chariot eating the ground between them would be impossible to miss. Ormr charged directly, the sword in his right hand raising to deliver a heinous blow. A primal battlecry breaking from his lips.

When they came closer he shifted to the left of the chariot, bringing it to his right and he'd begin an arcing blow with his immense sword. Unfortunately his disregard for his own safety would mean that clay pot of Naptha would explode over his shoulder, showering Ormr in shards and burning tar. The Sword still swung though, aiming to catch a horse at the Chariots fore and cleave through it to create mayhem.

The Half-Giant was staggered after the naptha pot exploded, he veered aside and howled....

"Graaaarrrrrgh!"

...ripping at the hides and bestial furs he'd clothed himself with and that provided some amount of insulation for his form so that he could toss them away. Ormr fell to a knee, the hides and furs covered with the resinous, burning tar tossed aside revealing a bulky and muscular form. Clay shards that had penetrated the hides lacerations on his monstrous frame, patches of skin that were burnt blackened and cracked and the right side of his face was bloody from where he'd been struck.

His chest heaved as he knelt down but then the Half-Giant calmed, slowly rising back to his feet while the grip he maintained on his sword tightened. Eogorath granted him endurance, a deadening of pain until it existed only in the back of his mind as the divine blessing flowed through him. Blackened skin cracked on the Half-Giants torso, the pain would be immeasurable to most men but he felt nothing.

---

Gerra​

 

[Visha Sofka]

Visha appeared to either have a vague awareness of what was going on around her, or none at all. And it wasn't entirely certain if she was just disregarding her own mortality as something that simply wasn't happening, or if she was all too aware and thus distracting herself.

Either way, she kept on talking nonsense.

"The last time I went to Alliria, I punched a cat," she said in a dreamy manner, eyes rolling this way and that in their sockets. "Little bastard had it coming. He attacked me, okay? There I was, minding my own business, he's crawling up my pants, those claws hurt you know, so I bopped him, boop, right on the nose, okay, so it wasn't an amazing punch, but it got the message across, and that little..."

She pinched her eyes shut. Made a contorted, strained face. Opened her eyes and actually seemed to see Tinus for the first time. A rare moment of clarity, "You're going the wrong way, idiot!" She giggled, the laughter interrupted by little gurgles and some trickling of blood out from the corner of her mouth.

Visha coughed (a spatter of blood coming up with it) and continued with more nonsense, gaze wandering once more. "I don't think Malakath exists. You know what happened? I'll tell you what happened! Somebody spilled their coffee on a map, somebody else spilled their coffee on them, and then they both just said, 'Hey, let's just blame it on the Fae!' Shh, shh, hush now, I already know I'm a genius..."

Tinus Damos

 

[Ashuanar]

Still some ways from the plateau's edge, Ashuanar paused.

Toward the far off city he looked, and beheld men caught up into the twisting winds, and lightning raining down on those left below. And above, far above, a familiar visage.

He stared up at it for a moment, and then felt another - final - pulse from his armband.

It was time.

Akrep had come.

---

Gerra | Mirielle Merlon | Douglas Haley
Hanuman | Visha Sofka | Aratus Seldomus ​

---

Ormr | Kara Orin​

---

Kjaran Mak Aodha | Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal | Tinus Damos ​

 

[Tinus Damos]

The Kel sprinted. Towards the siege camp. Towards healers. Towards help. The girl in his arms bled and talked. And talked. And talked. And talked. Had she gone into shock? It seemed like the kind of chatter of someone in shock after getting run through with a sword.

"Never punched a cat. Last time I was in Alliria I nearly punched a kid. Tried to steal my coins. Taught him how to use a sling."

Talking back seemed like a good way to keep her focused and awake.

"Nope. Right way."

Did she want into the city? Was she actually an enemy? Did it matter anyways? Not as if any of this was personal for them. She was injured so all he would focus on for now. Punishment could be worried about after she had been seen.

"The fae are real, so it is possible. You are indeed a genius."

The fae were real. The Great Queen delivered unto him proof in the form of a gift of tea from one of them during the Winter solstice. But the rest was impossible to prove either way. She truly was a genius at speaking wholeheartedly about whatever crossed her mind. A rare gift.

He had nearly made it to the camp. Then it happened. A deafening sound. Blinding sights. And death. Lots of death.

Tinus came to a stop to turn and gaze upon the horror. His kin at the walls and gate were gone. None could escape what took place there. Some even had been carried up into the sky to be juggled by the winds with only the promise of a plummet to meet the earth once more. And it wasn't just his own. Also those defending the city were caught in it as well as their mercenaries.

None deserved their fate this day....

For several moments he was frozen. But as the storm grew his will returned to his limbs. He got himself moving once more back to the Kellish siege camp. He could not save those at the city but he might still save the girl in his arms. So he went straight to the healer tents.

As he entered the nearest of the tents, orders were going everywhere for those still in the field to retreat to the relative safety of the siege camp.

Tinus called out to the healers in their native tongue. A conversation was held between them in it as he gently laid the girl out on a table. The healer began to look her over and would eventually lift her clothing away to examine her wound.

Visha Sofka Douglas Haley Gerra Kjaran Mak Aodha Ashuanar Mirielle Merlon Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal Ormr

 

[Visha Sofka]

Visha would have loved the continuing battle, and would have loved the enormous display of magic from Douglas in conjuring the spirit of Drakormir. But all of that was happening over there. And, right here, she was too busy bleeding to death.

And babbling.

"Pfft! The Fae are real! Ha! That's why I'm the genius and you're not. If there actually are Fae, I'll eat my own underwear..."

She heard Tinus calling out to the healers in a language she didn't understand. Not that she let on that she didn't understand it.

"And they better not be burnt!" Visha called out vaguely in the same direction Tinus had. She tried to laugh, choked briefly, and then stopped. She spit out a bigger mouthful of bubbling blood and saliva off to one side. She spoke with an unaffected grin. "I'm the one...who burns things."

Visha was set down on the table, oblivious or unconcerned with the healer's efforts--it was hard to say if she recognized that the healer was, indeed, another person other than whoever had picked her up. Her wounds were the burnt and cauterized flesh raked across her abdomen, where she'd been struck by Dianaimh's lightning, and the impaling sword wound just beneath her lowest rib on her left side.

"Have I ever...told you...about my favorite dragon...?"

Tinus Damos

 

[Gerra]

A flash of silver. A fetlock arcing through the air, trailing a ribbon of blood. The shriek of a dismembered horse crashing face first into the grass, its body heaving at the chariot's harness.

The chariot flipped.

Gerra was thrown from the crashing cart. He hit hard, chain and plate rattling as he rolled. Dazed, crown atop his head askew, he struggled to get to his feet. He struggled to heave in a breath, the wind knocked completely from his lungs.

The wreckage of his chariot lay in a heap nearby, a tangle of shattered horse limbs, wood, and a still spinning wheel.

Blinking, vision swimming, Gerra fumbled for the mace at his belt until he dragged it through a belt loop. The grip of Annuk's Scepter felt familiar as the half-giant struggled to catch his breath.

He glanced behind him, wondering if his retinue had followed, spotted an Abtati woman with her bow drawn coming toward him, then turned his attention back to Ormr. But suddenly, the wind changed and screeching air hurtled around him, causing his cape to snap and flutter with a fury.

Cyra Al-Dushar

* * *

Iasimu answered the prayers of the lector-priests.

From the north came a hot summer wind, howling and vengeful. It crashed against the storm summoned by Douglas Haley and blew it higher and higher, rising up into the sky and away from the city of Alcazar, breaking up the dark clouds and causing the visage of the dragon spirit amidst them to fade.

 

[Musah]

The world seemed to freeze for a moment as Cyra watched the large chariot flip foreword. The carnage in front of her was sudden and explosive. The power of the half-giant enemy made her guards hesitate, but not Cyra. Maybe it was bravery or just stupidity from inexperience. Her steed took off at a full gallop leaving her tribesman in the dust. Cyra quickly shot an arrow out towards Ormr. She was not too focused on if it hit or not, because she doubted it would do too much damage.

Instead, she took her free hand and placed it down as close to the ground as she could while still riding at full speed. The young Abtati whispered under her breath.

"Dhukal, I need your help. Bind my enemies in the endless dunes."

As she rode forward, what looked like several large snakes followed behind from the sand around her. As she pulled in front of Gerra, the sand snakes slithered toward Ormr. Some of the snakes whipped up towards the half-giant targeting his limbs to hold him down. Others dispersed into a sandstorm that surrounded the warrior and hindered its vision. Others faded into the sands, where the large man would notice the ground beneath his feet had become extremely soft and threatened to give in and pull him down at his movements.

Cyra dismounted with incredible grace as she stopped in beside Gerra, and pulled another arrow out. He was extremely large, but she had expected larger. His injuries made him seem less grand than the stories that she had been told.

"Are you ok, your majesty?" She was still focused on the large half-giant across from them. If Gerra was not ok, then Cyra was not all to sure how long she could slow him down. Hopefully, long enough for others to get here.

Gerra of Molthal

 

[Ormr]

An arrow struck him over the pectoral shortly after he'd risen to his feet. It registered as an impact rather than as a trauma as the blessings of Eogorath continued to grant him Endurance, deadening the sensation of pain that the Half-Giant would have felt otherwise. Even as his flesh, blackened by the coal tar and peat jelly that had landed cleanly cracked and revealed the reddened sinew beneath he didn't seem to notice.

Eyes narrows Ormr reached with his left hand, the right still clutching the massive sword by the hilt and pulled the arrow free. before dropping it into the sands. Blessing aside his flesh with thick, leathery and a single arrow didn't pose much of a threat outright.

The Half-Giant had started to move forward then the snakes erupted upwards, the sandstorm engulfed him and the sand beneath his feet grew soft and pliant.

"Sorcery."

...no one would hear his disdain, muttered as the snakes grappled with his forearms.

He was incredibly strong though, Ormr had pried open the jaws of a Wyvern once and could lift and hurl a horse under his own power. The Snakes slowed him but it appeared as though the more Ormr's rage built the more powerful he became, he'd rip the snakes entangled around his forearms from the earth and hurl them away or hack at them with his sword to free himself. Dust from the sandstorm still blurred his vision, the soft earth beneath his feet made it difficult for him to maintain his balance.

He'd expected more.

Rageful he'd growl, calling from the sandstorm....

"Is that all Son of Molthal!? If you believe your tricks will save you then you are mistaken!"

It no longer occurred to the Half-Giant that he was out in the open, between two armies with the Emperor of the Empire. He'd glimpsed the Abtati on horseback but she didn't have his focus yet, all Ormr saw of her was a blurred silhouette beyond the sandstorm.

Gerra Cyra Al-Dushar​

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

From a vantage point on the slopes of the plateau, Mirielle and the remaining Lazulari horsewarriors watched the battle continue. A number of disparate Imperial survivors had joined them, regrouping and binding their wounds. Perhaps two hundred people total now clustered around Mirielle's position. Mirielle, having tended to her mare's needs, scryed with a little bloody water in her silver bowl as the horsewarriors cared for their stallions.

The scrying image painted a grim picture. The enemy relief force, a huge army, had arrived from the east. Brutal violence choked the gates of Alcazar and might well have spilled into the city; she couldn't tell, considering the warring storms and winds of the magicians. The Band of the Lion had surged past enemy outriders, engaged heavily at the gates, and taken horrific casualties.

Closer to home, at the main engagement, both major armies had taken a step back. The enemy seemed to be retreating in force, withdrawing to secure the city and link up with the relief force — a wise move. Gerra was embroiled in personal combat with another half-giant, occupying the Emperor at the worst possible time. And while a friendly relief force from Thelios was ostensibly on its way, she couldn't determine whether it had arrived.

For just a moment, Mirielle considered attempting to turn the tide. Perhaps the Serpent Gods would be merciful enough to grant something disproportionate to the sacrifices she'd made, less her previous appeals to them today.

Merciful. Now that's a funny thought.

Shaking her head, she laughed at her own naiveté — and laughed again when she realized that, with Gerra and his central command intensely occupied, she had nowhere to send the scrying vision.

Except, come to think of it, Ashuanar. The big man's forces had been shredded trying to come to her aid, and he was on his way toward the plateau, not far from her position.

With a shrug, Mirielle sent the vision to reflective surfaces near Ashuanar: the blades and helmets of the dead. Perhaps he'd be interested in gathering survivors and linking up, not that they had the time to do much before the enemy regrouped in a serious way.

---

Douglas Haley Ormr Kjaran Mak Aodha Gerra Visha Sofka Tinus Damos Ashuanar Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal Kara Orin Aratus Seldomus Hanuman Lodin Hjornsson Cyra Al-Dushar

 

[Kjaran Mak Aodha]

Maybe four thousand had ventured out that morning to clear away what had been assumed to be a Kaliti raiding party. Just over half that now were stumbling back towards the siege camp and city, towards the dark clouds and raging storm.

Pikemen, arbalists, unhorsed cavalry, they slogged on, seemingly ignored now by all but the Kaliti outriders, their own footsoldiers licking their wounds and steeling their courage before they came back for another go. Rain fell now, unseasonably hot for this time of year. The wind howled past them, flicking errant javelins and arrow shafts away.

The battle madness had left Kjaran and he trudged on, half blind. His shoulders sank in weariness but he pushed forward, only force of will keeping him going. The madness had always brought him through but it demanded its price in return. One day it'd come looking for too much.

 

[Ashuanar]

His eyes fell to his forearm, which he casually lifted. He briefly examined the armband he wore, almost anxiously waiting for the moment. Just then, something caught his eyes. He looked closely past his arm, and there on the round of a left behind helm rested in the dirt, he saw.

And it was a grim picture indeed.

He cast a look one way, to the emperor.

Then another, to the city.

Then finally, his eyes turned toward Mirielle, distant as she was.

…​

And then the ground trembled.

Some distance away from where Ashuanar stood, between he and the plateau, the ground quaked violently. Dust rolled up and into the air, and soon, great cracks stretched across a great breadth of land. As the disturbance persisted it became more violent, until finally the ground broke and sank as a gargantuan of terrible size dug itself free from beneath. Its emergence generated a cloud of dust and dirt so thick is was difficult to see, but given the nearby winds it wasn't long before its form was revealed. The creature bore the shape of a scorpion, but was far more ghastly and deadly in appearance with great spires and spines jutting from its hardened armor. It stood tens of meters tall, and stretching even higher above was a its great tail whose bulbous end was as vast as a hundred suns in the sky.

And for a moment it loomed passively in place.

But its course was obvious.

It faced the city - more specifically the violence ensuing just outside it.

Dirt and dust fell free as it began to move once again, and slowly its great limbs carried it toward the battle. Ashuanar however, was not yet visible through the haze that persisted below the great beast.

Spoiler

Akrep

---

Gerra | Mirielle Merlon | Douglas Haley
Hanuman | Visha Sofka | Aratus Seldomus ​

---

Ormr | Kara Orin​

---

Kjaran Mak Aodha | Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal | Tinus Damos ​

 

[Tinus Damos]

Alcazar- Kellish Forces

The storm raged on. A supernatural force indiscriminately reaping the existence of forces on both sides. Bodies cast into the air. Those not dead from lightning or debris flung high to plummet towards their end.

The Kellish commander frowned. Magic was a pain. Broken rules ruining the natural flow of life and battle. Worse the kind made it impossible to know the intent and purpose outside of destruction. Nor who it was aimed at if anyone specifically at all.

"Tell our kin to invite enemy forces to shelter. No longer battlefield. This is disaster to weather for us all."

And so the orders went out. No matter which side they belonged to the camp would be open for them to shelter within. Until things became clear on who was responsible all enemies were cautious allies in the fight for survival.

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Kellish Camp- Tinus

"Good news Free Spirit. Fae are real and I'm a damn good chef. Your underwear will be cooked to perfection."

The healer eyed the other Kel but said nothing. It was hopefully going to distract her as they figured out a solution to all the problems she currently suffered from physically. There was nothing they could do for her mind.

Tinus chuckled at her question. "Dragon? Petty fire breathing lizards. They are nothing next to gryphons."

The healer stopped for a moment and looked at Tinus. In the Kellish tongue they said, "Don't start."

Tinus looked back and said in his native tongue back. "I did."

"No-"

"Yes!"

"Now is not the time nor place. Save it for our kin. Outsiders don't care."

"More reason to tell them!"

The healer sighed and went back to triaging the situation starting with the immediately dangerous wounds causing all the bleeding.

Tinus turned his attention back to her. Switching back to the more common tongue he said, "No dragon could challenge the Great Queen Velaeri. She would devour them as easily a hawk does a rock lizard."

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Alcazar- Kellish Forces

The first of those from the battle were filtering in. Many of them wounded, but not enough to stop them from carrying themselves on their own feet. Their mounts were saved for those too badly wounded to move on their own. Already the worst were being carried off to the healer tents to be seen.

The outriders from the Torleon army had arrived at the camp. The commander already was moving to greet them. The looks in their eyes reflected their confusion at the state of things. A giant storm that had consumed the city gate and all around it. A camp full of mercenaries they had hired pulling back from it instead of doing their job and braving things as they should. And now enemies being treated not as prisoners but as guests in the camp. They were not pleased.

Before they could speak the Commander was already engaging them. "Ride out to save people or help fortify things for the storm. No fighting or standing around while this disaster rages on."

Gerra Visha Sofka Douglas Haley Ashuanar Kjaran Mak Aodha Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal Mirielle Merlon

 

[Visha Sofka]

The conversation kept Visha awake and--debatably--alert.

With distant and weak laughter after Tinus and the healer spoke with one another in the Kellish tongue, Visha said, "I can speak that language too. Watch...!"

She babbled something incoherent, and then a big blood bubble blew out of her mouth and popped. She gargled some afterward, each following breath sounding wet and heavy.

Though she did seem to recognize something when Tinus switched back to Common. There was a little spark in her half-closed eyes.

"Vel Larry! I had...the best idea...for the Solstice...this year too."

Her gaze became unfocused even as her mischievous grin remained undimmed.

"Cheese sandwich...old boot...bottom of that stupid lake..."

Right before she passed out, a few parting words.

"I forgot the tuna fish..."

Tinus Damos Velaeri

 

[Gerra]

A she-elf rode to his aid and steadied him as he swayed upright. He held out a hand, grasping her shoulder even as she knocked another arrow to the shortbow favored by the children of the sand. His vision still swam, but he thought he recognized her as the daughter of one of the sheikhs. Al-Dushar?

"Cyra," he rumbled, "This is not your fight. Flee, find Lady Merlon of Lazular. Get our people back across the river."

The earth rumbled and Gerra turned as an immense scorpion rose from the ground, as tall as a city wall. The tight grip on his heart loosened. Ashuanar yet lived.

The Emperor turned toward the roaring visage of his icy kin. Gerra would lay him low, then find Ashuanar.

"Go Cyra. Leave him to me."

As fleeing soldiers streamed past Gerra, he strode toward his foe. It was clear that they both bore the blood of giants.

"Who are you, a mercenary?" called the emperor over the howling wind, striding forward with heavy steps, and swinging his mace at his enemy's shoulder.

Ormr

 

[Ormr]

The Howling winded dimmed the sound of what occurred around him as the sandstorm continued to engulf him and the earth, softened by sorcery made forward momentum slow. It was, perhaps fortunate that through the whirling sands the Half Giant could make out the silhouette of his foe approaching him.

Ormr no longer saw everything else around him, not the remnants of battle or the fleeing soldiers only the Emperor.

As Gerra came forward he would hear him calling over the wind and catching sight of his mace he would raise his sword to make contact on the inside, along the shaft beneath the weapons head and parry it wide while growling back...

"I am a son of Eogorath! I am Ormr and I have come for you, Emperor!"

...surging forward then Ormr would reach with his freehand to plant it over Gerra's face, against a normal man the Half Giant would have likely overtaken his entire skull but Gerra was no normal man. They both shared that similar lineage if not an exact one. Pushing then Ormr tried to hurl Gerra back away from him, maybe unbalancing the Emperor and throwing him onto his back.

Gerra​

 

[Musah]

Cyra was preparing to summon more sand traps to slow down the giant, once more, when she heard Gerra's words. She grimaced in irritation but stopped herself from joining deeper into the fight. It was not her place to interrupt this duel if Gerra requested she abstains. Still, just leaving him like this did not exactly sit well with her.

Gerra did not give her a chance to think further on the matter as he moved forward to fight. Cyra sighed and mumbled something under her breath before re-mounting her horse. She spurred it on back towards her own warriors who were hurrying to reconnect with her. As soon as one of them was in ear shot, she spoke.

"We are still mostly intact. Spread-out, keep moving, and cover our forces while we move back across the river. All sorcerers craft sand storms for a little bit more cover."

Some of the Abtati seemed surprised at their young leader's sudden outburst of orders since she had largely been nothing more than an ornamental piece for this battle. Yet, no one could argue with the basics of the plan so they rode off to accomplish her goals.