Open Chronicles Skirmish in the Sands

[White Swallow]

Amir Farid Ibn Baha was the ruler of a glorious city and it's vassals at the foothils of the Seret mountains. He is well known in the region and his dynasty ruled this land for generations. Something that was rarely found among the ever changing politics of Amol-Kalit. His favour with the gods was immense and they aided him well in battle. He intended to keep it that way.
Yet these Sahiyi Zealots and their god Kalik have been a plague upon his realm.
Who was Kalik? Also named Hushur in the pantheon, one of the hundred or one of the many-slain. He was an old god who gave his voice to create the world out of the primordial ocean. Thus he stood silent in the pantheon, not bestowing a single grace or blessing upon any believer. Not popular with anyone but the Cult of Hushur as alive and some kaliti necromancers as un-dead. They may have been permissible cuts once upon a time, but they sprouted the destructive, iconodulic Henremdi and idealistic Sahiyi who believe solely in Huhur-Kalik and no one else.
And they were a disruptive plague in his realm as they were a plague in many other regions.


Today he might just have an opportunity to eradicate one Sahiyi military force.

»Your god is dead, and your forces are minute, Sahiyi zealots.« Amir Farid scowled at the assembly of his enemies.
They were two small groups on a dune barely within the reach of their weapons, each backed some good hundred feet behind them with forces glaring daggers at each other.

»Kalik is not dead and not alive, not knowing and not not knowing, immanent and transcendent. If you see your petty gods of war and storms as higher, it is you who follows the false faith.« The White Swallow spoke calmly, yet with sharp undertones.
»Annuk guide me. - How dare you accuse us of such you infidels. Today is the day I will eradicate you and tomorrow I will take Sey' Kube. Then I will hunt down every last of you heathens.« Amir Farid Ibn Baha rose his blade which glistened in the harsh sunlight. His horse reared and neighed before turning around.


»The sand hides a thousand enemies, always has been, always will be,« muttered the White Swallow while turning sideways and riding out towards his men that stood on the opposing dune.




There were two forces, neither of which were homogenous. Some other parties joined simply out of duty, the thrill of battle or got caught within the armies as the air began to smell of battle.
On one end stood the colourful Amir Farid Ibn Baha, on the other The White Swallow with his men in black, marked with white birds and many others in his retinue. The sun was still high up, the sands were shifting in the light wind and soon they would clash steel, and perhaps if they were lucky... They could capture the other in sound victory.

 

[Ashieron]

Ash kept himself rather cool under the blistering sun of the desert. Simply by surrounding himself by cold air. Once he heard the White Swallow needed some possible assistance he dropped what he was doing in regards to searching for new information on potential dragons that might need assistance.

Ash hovers beside White Swallow, “If you wish for me to I can send a huge dragon fire ball towards them to start the charge.” He offers his friend. The two had met at another battle, and as a result of Swallow’s side losing and Ash being rather horribly incapacitated the two became friends on the way away from the battle.

The elf was there to help those being hunted like foxes were by hounds. He did not agree with their persecution. Ash still was not a hundred percent but he was well enough to fight. Even without magic which seemed to cause his coughing fits if used too much. His eye was on the leader of the opposing group. His bitterness towards the man was something he could taste. “We should also take out their leader as soon as possible.” The elf suggests with his armed holding each other comfortably behind his back and they glowed with magic. He would protect his friend to his death if needed and he was very well ready for it. “If need be I can finish a few of them rather quickly with the sand around us also.”

Ash turns around to look at the group smiling some, his eyes glowing as the slits of his pupils scanned the opposing forces, he had a few spells up his sleeves just for them. Some of which might be looked down upon by others. “Which ever you want me to do I will do so Swallow.”

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

Some called Amir Farid Ibn Baha a good man. As his brother's widow, Mirielle knew Farid well enough to say he was, at least, a good ruler. He'd led the city of Lazular to prosperity, created opportunities for his people, levied reasonable drafts and taxes, and would not throw lives away for sport or glory. If he led out a warband, he saw a reason. Always.

Lately the Sahiyi Zealots provided that reason more often than not. Upon returning from Ragash, Mirielle had found her brother-in-law preparing to ride out with a disparate coalition against the White Swallow. Snaring or killing the notable commander would set the Sahiyi back immensely.

Comfortably veiled against the sun and gritty wind, Mirielle kept her spirited white mare back behind the Amir's forces. Desert heat baked traces of a murderer's blood under her nails. She had sacrificed privately to the foreign and inhuman Serpent Gods today, pulled out an evil man's heart. She'd given them what they required. They might deign to give her what she asked, if circumstances demanded that she ask.

 

[White Swallow]

The steeds anxiously awaited command on either side, huffing hot air out of their nostrils and tapping at the heaps of sand and soil with their sturdy hooves.

As Ashieron laid out his proposal, the White Swallow went into a small bout of silence while gazing upon the enemy troop. He didn't have much experience fighting alongside magic bearers. But it would be worth implementing Asherion's power nonetheless.

»Do it when their horses begin to move, but keep in mind the survival of the group as a whole.«
»Do not extend more than you can unless the situation calls for.«

Farid Ibn Baha made his way towards Mirielle on his russet red mare. He bowed briefly before leading his horse closer to her. Despite being quite a distance from the mass of the troop, they could still hear the readying noise of the army before them.
»I hope you are not being inconvenienced by staying with us, Mirielle,« the amir stroked his beard. »Our Advance may begin...soon«

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

When she'd first come to Amol-Kalit to marry the Amir's brother, the dialect had eluded her. She'd reluctantly spent part of a sacrifice asking the Serpent Gods to bolster her understanding of how people spoke here. Idiom, accent - she blended in.

"I told you I intend to help if I can, brother," Mirielle said firmly, meeting her brother-in-law's eyes. She reined in her nervous mare. "I'm not much of a mage, but I stand with you."

This morning she'd privately sacrificed three murderers from the prison at Lazular. He knew, almost certainly, though he had never asked about the details. Their unspoken arrangement met both of their needs.

What to ask of the Serpent Gods was always a tricky question. They were immensely bloodthirsty, fickle, mercurial. Even after years as their aervant, sometimes Mirielle could only guess what requests they would grant eagerly.

White Swallow

 

[White Swallow]

Ashieron Mirielle Merlon
--------------------------------------
»Your aid is greatly appreciated, now...« Amir Farid bowed lightly with his upper torso.
»HIYA« He shouted out, his mare reared and made her way towards.
Snapping noises rumbled between the army and the Amir's troop began to descend the dune they stood upon.

 

[Ashieron]

Ash sighs, “Sometimes it does call for it unfortunately.” Ash was hoping he’d not have to incinerate some of the other side but if he had too he would unfortunately. A bit of wind stirred up, sending sand into the air as the opposing group started their charge.

He looked at the women and the man on the horse, “I’ll take care of the woman when they get closer.” Ash tells Swallow taking a few stepss towards the oncoming troop. Holding his hand out and taking a deep breath Ash’s voice becomes multiple with a slight echo, “Lyft sy þe in bǽlwylm ac forhienan se wiðere.” A large ball of fire forms in his out stretched hand, it’s heat almost as hot as that of dragon’s fire. The sand under it melting into glass.

The ball of dragon’s fire flies through the air and hits the ground just in-front of the horses. Sand explodes from the ground and glass shards hit into horses legs causing them to tumble down onto the ground. Some fire remained with Ash, it licked his face and hair not harming hum in anyway.

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

White Swallow Ashieron

Mirielle urged her mare along in the wake of the Amir's downhill charge. His cavalry, both lancers and horse archers, kicked up a furious cloud of dusty sand that beat against her veil.

Between the charge and the low visibility, she only saw the enemy fire mage in the vaguest way. His fireball roared, far ahead. Horses screamed and projectiles bit through meat. Mirielle reined in the mare and paused on a sand dune just out of bowshot of where the main clash would happen. A wind swept up, clearing her line of sight. Fire danced around the enemy mage's head - a useful target, even at this range.

Mirielle uncapped a small bottle and threw droplets of blood over the sand: a prayer to the Serpent Gods, fresh from recent sacrifices.

<Snakes,> she murmured in a language never meant for human throats.

Just in front of the White Swallow's horsemem, a dozen local serpents wriggled out of the sand and attacked.

 

[White Swallow]

Perhaps it was the will of nature. Or perhaps both sides had an ace up their sleeve.

Hisses and snaps slithered between the horses' legs. The charge came to a halt as horses had panicked, tiptoeing like walking over coals. While a few had been tossed off their horse, scrambling to get back up, The Swallow held onto his mare as if they were one.
One of the snakes, golden-eyed and black striped launched itself high, coiling around some of his tacks, embedding its fangs onto his black boot. Those riders behind the front had stalled and erred, moving backwards the unit scrambled back together as the snakes remained in pursuit.

The beating of hissing was not only that of snakes, as arrows fell like rain on either end of the troop.

 

[Ashieron]

Ash watches the snakes and smiles as they slithered towards his group, snake were not immortal after all, but he could never be sure if they were what he thought they were. Magical snakes were a tricky business. He bites into his hand and blood drips onto the sand. The red sand moves towards the snakes. Forming under them, fire erupts from the sand, incinerating the snakes.

Holding out his other hand a sword forms in it, he grasps it and runs his bloodied hand down the blade of his weapon.It started to catch alight, “See you around Swallow.” Ash says his good bye to his friend before disappearing and reappearing in one, two, three flashes before he reaches the enemy mage. He’d swing his sword down towards the woman, “Snakes are a bit of an issue dear.” He comments smiling regardless of what he is responded with.

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

White Swallow Ashieron

She'd hoped to secure two results: chaos among the enemy cavalry, and a contributing overreaction from the enemy mage. Both results had come together just fine.

The Amir's forces had lost some cohesion, momentum, and men to the earlier fireball attack. Seeing their enemy stalled emboldened them. The Amir's lancers surged across the final distance and crashed into the halted Sahiyi cavalry, who'd been dealing with snakes and then fire. Horse archers' arrows slashed down overhead.

The enemy mage ignited his sword and vanished. A few moments later he reappeared closer to Mirielle, then vanished again, reappeared closer still...

Short-range teleportation like that had a lag attached, always, or it risked violating the fifth law of magic. Mirielle flashed back vividly to reading a gory account called The Trouble with Distance, at the College of Elbion. There might be a way to trick the enemy mage into a similar error, but not this second. Any moment now he'd close the last distance and attack his obvious target: a certain veiled woman on her mare.

He’d swing his sword down towards the woman, “Snakes are a bit of an issue dear.” He comments smiling regardless of what he is responded with.

As he made his final disappearance, Mirielle slid off the mare and drew a slim, straight sword daubed with paralytic secruyu lizard venom. It might be the only straight sword on the Amir's side: he and his men favored shamshirs, but Mirielle had learned to fight in faraway Ashdell. The mage reappeared and the flaming sword crashed down against her guard. Her wrists were going to feel this in the morning.

"They already are," she said, referring to the battle behind him. The envenomed sword flicked out at his hands and forearms. Shallow cuts would numb and slow him, even paralyze his grip or more - if she could connect.

 

[White Swallow]

»Ashieron?« The White Swallow turned his face towards the mage, but he was already long gone.
He should have expected the elf to go his way as he did, truly, he wasn't drilled in the arts as his troop was.

The horsemen regrouped as the horses settled their nerves. The beasts turned on their place and made their way away from the Amir's forces as they charged into their mass. The distance was narrowed, but still far.
Arrows raining and clicking and snapping against shields and armour.

 

[Ashieron]

Ash tried to dodge the blow but he was too slow, he felt the blade slice into his arm followed by some stinging and some numbing. Then it spread. It spread through his arm and down his side due to where it hit him. It coursed straight through to his heart and spread throughout his body.

Shit. Should’ve known she had venom.

Ash thinks glaring at the woman, he was not the strongest with venoms nor poisons, in so they were one of his weaknesses. “You have a twisted way with snakes and venom.” He says before yelling out his voice booming over the area, “The snakes may be venomous!” The elf disspells his fire sword into his other hand and jumps back a few feet.

This fight is going to have to be done like the old me would’ve done.

Ash thinks running his hand along the new cut in his arm, deepening it so blood would drip down his arm and into the sand. A pentagram would form itself into the sand and a woman made of blood and sand appears and runs her finger down Ash’s cheek as his leg gives out from under hum, forcing him to take a knee. “Want me to assssist you? Well I couldn’t let one of my new toys be killed in such a way.” She runs his finger along his jawline and turns around. Both of their eyes glowed red and a deathly aura emanated from the woman. Holding out her hand a firestorm starts to form around them.

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

Now this was a strange escalation, and Mirielle didn't have time to think it through. The heat of Ashieron's flaming sword had warped her blade. As her mare skittered back, Mirielle dropped her weapon and sprinted a few steps to clamber onto the saddle. Her breath sucked her veil against her face; the fine, wind-porous fabric kept her from smothering. Flame roared up behind her just as she settled into the saddle and gave the mare the spurs.

She looked back mid-gallop. The Amir's horsemen were clashing with the White Swallow's forces. A curse came to mind, a useful way to call on the divine favor she'd gleaned from human sacrifices. She reined in the mare and wheeled at the crest of a dune, within bowshot of Ashieron.

<Hear me,> she said to the Serpent Gods in the inhuman language they preferred. <May their bows turn to snakes in their hands.>

She had no idea of the extent to which it would actually happen. The Serpent Gods were fickle and far away. Perhaps only one or two of the White Swallow's men would find themselves holding vipers instead of bows. Perhaps many more, and perhaps none at all.

 

[White Swallow]

The White Swallow aimed his bow at the charging force, an arrow pointing at the helmet with Farid ibn Baha's face behind it.
-HISSSSS-

A brazen serpent of golden stripes opened its fanged maw. The swallow let go as fast as he could. The beast turned to a blood splatter not long after under the hooves of horses.
It's remains turning to splintered wood not long after.

A snake mage was certainly still meddling with their affairs. The white swallow kept his eyes on the army, raising his shield.
His shoulder knocked back in some force, an arrow embedded itself between the armour pieces.

 

[Neonitus]

i didn't even mean to be here. i dodge a horse rider with a fiery sword narrowly missing him. the invisibility potions only work for a short time and if i collide with anyone i will appear again.

i had been doing a bit of night dessert business when my companions decided to rob me lock me in a casket and put me two inches under the sand. if it weren't for this army i might have died. the first horse to trot on that casket shattered me free.

i stumbled through the battle field as best i could but i ran into a man who was poised to sneak attack another. who was on who's side i haven't a clue. this one seemed to be a leader of the smaller army. the attacker i barely saw as i tripped into him causing him to fall on his own sword. now im visible and continue on my way saying a half hearted sorry as i try to find another potion to head my escape from this madness that has befallen upon me

 

[Ashieron]

Ash smiles as his friend sends fire to spook even more horses on the opposing side of the conflict. Some of their men fell off their horses, leaving them ripe for Ash to blink over to one after the other, cutting them down. But not so they die, just enough to keep them down for a few days.

One of the men tried to bring his sword down on the elf’s arm, but the elf parried it and ran his blade through the man as he almost got his chest. His devil was yelling at him to stop fighting but she stopped arguing with him once she feels the souls and magic going into her carrier. Healing him.

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

White Swallow Neonitus Ashieron

Mirielle paused at a dune's crest just outside bowshot of the battle. The Serpent Gods had heard her twice now, petitions large enough to interfere with the enemy forces. If she wanted to press her luck she could try. Maybe they'd respect today's bloodshed and be generous.

But no, if she really wanted their help, she would need to keep making sacrifices.

She slid out of the saddle and patted the mare's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, girl."

A heartbeat after she cut the mare's throat, she hopped back to avoid hooves and blood. An arterial spray stained her clothes, dampened her black veil. She tore off the veil and squinted against the evening light.

Wordless voices hissed in her ear. The gods she served were paying attention.

Now what to ask them...

 

[White Swallow]

Had the brazen serpent not came sooner he would have seen the piercing arrow from exit to entry.

Farid Ibn Baha already planned how to spend the evening offerings to the gods, for he had seen death before his eyes and he would not make it a second time today. He loudly proclaimed the faith he had, encouraging his soldiers to go on, for favour was certainly on their side.


He rose his sword as the two armies clashed, polearm to the torso, sword to the neck. For a moment he saw eye to eye with the White Swallow as both their blades swung to struck to each other. Though there was naught of a result and as quickly as they passed eachother, they disapeared from view.

 

[Ashieron]

Ash looks at the bodies that have fallen, their life faded from their eyes. Standing up now with the fire having burned off some of the venom in his system, he holds out his hand. Eyes glowing red he says something in a foregin language. It was a beautiful phrase, flowing off his tongue easily. But which word ends and another begins is something only he knew.

Strands of red magic snakes to the bodies, poking them to make sure their souls were truly departed from the world before they snake into the veins of the corpse. One by one the bodies will rise, their eyes rolled back in their heads and an ashen color to their skin. Picking up their weapons the bodies started attacking Ibn Baha’s troops. Knocking some off of horses and digging their teeth into the necks, some disemboweling the poor soldier caught within it’s grasp.

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

White Swallow Ashieron

A wounded horseman, one of the Amir's riders, galloped up to the dune where Mirielle had sacrificed her mare. "Get on," he said brusquely. "We withdraw. The Amir would not see you left behind."

She climbed up to sit in front of him, immensely uncomfortable. Already the Amir's men were disengaging and circling away from the brawl.

"Their mage raised the dead," the horseman said grimly. "Can you match it?"

"I never claimed to be a mage."

He grunted and urged the horse to join the Amir's forces. "Whatever you are, do more."

Sitting in front of the saddlehorn wasn't a tenable solution. Mirielle held on as best she could, and the horseman kept a grip on her too or she'd have tumbled clear off. She cursed under her breath, really cursed, invoking the Serpent Gods' favor one final time.

A furious but localized sandstorm began to gain momentum, a scathing barrier behind the Amir's retreating horsemen. Arrows flew crazily, defeated by the wind. The sandstorm was no temporary thing. The Serpent Gods were pleased with the blood shed in their name, and the blood shed in general.

 

[White Swallow]

The fallen have been taken over, clashing in favour of the Sahiyi.
It caught every horseman at a surprise to see them within their struggle together and the way these fallen fought was abhorrent.

Not only as the Amir's forces soundly retreated, so have the Sahiyi taken a step back, denouncing the dead.
»Ashieron?! Lay them back to rest.« The voice of the White Swallow sounded urgent, yet forced as if he were petrified.
Not long after, the sand had taken between the two warring forces.

 

[Ashieron]

“It wasn’t me!” Ash calls back looking at his hands with his eyes just glassy with shock and terror. “I don’t know what could do this!” He says with a few tears in his eyes and his ears drooping as he looked at his hands. The sand lady approaches him to wipe away his tears and look into his red eyes holding his face up under his chin. Blood was now mixed in his tears as well as all over the sand around him.

She’d look towards the two warring forces, no, the retreating forces, and a laugh escapes her, as the dead kept attacking. The sandstorm cutting into flesh now as the small particles sped up. “You enlisted the elf’s help Bird! You should know better than to enlist the help of someone as tainted as this elf!” She tells White Swallow, “I’m only assisting you in your battle. Do not be mad at our mutual friend.” She gives him a bow, “After all your life is more important than the people trying to drive their blade through you as well. They came here to drive a blade through your heart! Return the same to them.”

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

White Swallow Ashieron

The Serpent Gods' brutal sandstorm tore the crests off dunes and made the sand into a flensing blade. The Amir's horsemen were well away now, faster than the dead. The enemy horsemen, so far as Mirielle could determine, had pulled back on the other side of the sandstorm. Both sets of horsemen were essentially safe from the biting, gritty wind. But it chewed into the implacable dead and matched them for implacability.

The Amir raised his sword and cantered away faster than the dead could pursue, and his men followed. Mirielle abandoned her uncomfortable seat in front of the warrior and took a dead man's abandoned horse. The stallion had good training and experience; it responded well despite the death and chaos it had just seen. She soothed it as she rode.

The battle had come to a frustrating end and no clear victory, but plenty of death on each side. Mirielle hoped the Serpent Gods would give her credit for some of that blood, and spare her a sacrifice or two. But she doubted it.

 

[White Swallow]

The white swallow waved at his men to depart. They were quick to assemble and gather the wounded.
Now they were just mere moments away to depart without their commander.

»Ashieron, time is fleeting, move on.«
The white swallow's gaze turned towards the heap of man-sand, his stare sharp as his eyes narrowed.
»Demon, I don't listen to your sweetened words.«

Without further word, his gazed at the ever-growing weeping sandstorm, mere moments from engulfing them.
He rode out with his men before they would be swallowed whole.