Fable - Ask The Road of Condemnation

[Alakir]

The path from Vel'Anir along the Cortosi coastline was long, and it hugged the shoreline. When the tides went out, the path stank and some of the Guardsmen gagged and pleaded to march further inland. They were summarily denied. Alakir watched the moon reflected in murky waters as it slowly rose, and night stretched across the skyline.

"The road to Vel Andûn is a long one," he overheard one of the rear guards saying. "Some folks say it's pretty treacherous, too. It might be Anirian territory, but it's fringe at best. No one ever goes out that way without a reason."

"Because it's where they send the worst criminals," Alakir explained as he looked toward the two men. "Anirian people are proud, and rightly so. If you're sent away from the heartland, it's because you're considered unfit to be part of society."

"Don't that sound a bit bleak, though?" the man asked. "Wouldn't it kill morale for the men and women who get stationed there?"

"Yeah, I hear they don't enjoy it much," he shrugged. "But the job they do is important. The criminals that get thrown into the prison at Andûn aren't like the everyday pickpockets and drunks we picked up in the city."

Alakir thumbed toward the prison cart, locked up tight and surrounded by multiple Dreadlords. Whoever was inside, the Seven Houses had decided unanimously. "Guys like that," he added.

The two rear guards exchanged glances. Alakir turned back to his post. They had a few days march ahead of them at least.

 

[Talus]

Talus walked alongside the caravan with one hand resting on his sword, fingers splayed over the weapons hilt backwards, but the Dreadlord appeared ready to draw it on a moment's notice.

There was an edge to him as he moved, a decidedly unpleasant tenseness that spoke of a coil ready to explode.

It was all due to the man inside the Caravan; Cerin Vettel.

Talus had know him back at the Academy as a Proctor, at least for a short time. He had been cruel and sadistic even then, showing his lack of morals multiple times when nearly beating Apprentices to death. The man had brought forth scandal after scandal, even by Proctor's standards, and had eventually been forced to leave the Academy.

Afterwards Talus had not heard much of him, but Vettel had apparently busied himself with dozens of murders and ritual sacrifices.

He had slaughtered nearly sixty, all of them drained of their life. It had taken Talus and half a dozen other Dreadlords to actually quell the bastard, and even now the souls he had taken screamed out to the young Dreadlord in constant agony and pain. Cerin Better was a monster through and through, and Talus would have given anything to put his sword through the bastards throat.

The powers to be thought had decided against execution, and thus he found himself here, escorting what should have been a corpse.

He was not happy.

 

[Zana]

Well, Zana, it was your vision which brought him down. It seems only apt...

The Dreadlord's eyes were glazed over as she remembered the conversation. She had asked pointedly not to have to attend this one even if it had made the most sense; Sloan could have done just as good a job as transporting this man. Being in such close proximity brought back the flashes of the visions she had been having for months about the atrocious crimes he had been committing. They had plagued her sleep, driven her at one point to go almost three days without sleep until Talus had put his foot down.

She was one of the few in the party who was on a horse and so she rode beside the carriage as close and yet as far as possible. Through the window she could make out his face every now and then. Very briefly their eyes met and he just smiled. It turned her stomach cold. She pulled on Zandor's reins and then briskly took him over to where Talus was walking with the rest of the guard, distinctly separate from the Dreadlords who had taken up position at the front of the cohort.

"I don't trust this quiet," Zana didn't bother to pitch her voice low, she wanted the rest of the guard to be aware. She could see the other Dreadlords were tense but they wouldn't think to alert those in the group who didn't have the protection of magic.

 

[Landon]

Landon wasn't where he usually was when on a mission with Talus. He wasn't at the man's side, covering his back. Talus would argue he'd covered Landon's back more times but eh?

Something about letting the dreadlords win.

Didn't want any arms to be pulled out.

He sat astride a horse with another anirian knight. (On her own horse). They were scouting ahead. Sungsteelbow was strapped across his back along with a quiver of arrows. Webbed armor stretched across his broad chest. Calloused hands, shifted on the reigns, icy-blues scanning the rocks of the cliffs they hugged.

It was their job to make sure the way just ahead of the caravan was clear. Couldn't be too sure someone wouldn't try to save this deranged dreadlord's arse. Vel Anir's politics were more twisted than a ship's rigging.

"See anything off?" The man grunted to his fellow knight, though, he'd never met her, Sibylla. He had heard she'd been pulled from the Western front. A story similar to his own, though, he'd served a few years on the Eastern front before falling under Talus' command for the past yearish.

Certainly a different pace from the frontlines.

 

[Sibylla]

|| Landon ||

Oh, now he wants to talk?

Amusement edged her thoughts as a pair of eyes a mirror of Landon's own would pan over to the Anirian Knight at her right. Truth be told, even his terse, sullen, expression of a by-the-book stickler to the mission at hand, there was rather little that could ruin Sibylla's good mood. If he wanted to be quiet the entire way, that was fine by her. At least the other guards were providing some measure of intrigue with their chatter. It would be a lie to say that Sibylla wasn't keen on listening to gossip. Mainly because it gave her more barbs to mentally quip out to keep herself entertained.

The Dreadlords already did enough by trying to bully her with their magic and annoying tendencies at a holier than thou mentality. At least, the ones she'd met during her initial rounds as a Home Guard right after achieving her knighthood.

Already, she was having a great day. First, she wasn't involved in some political, skirt-chasing, boring, facade of an escort mission in the city. The last one required her to quite literally, escort some noblewoman to some midnight rendevous. Objective? Make sure that her husband didn't send someone to follow. Even thinking about didn't ruin her present cheer. Nope, she was here out in the West, and while the West Army was a few dozen kilometers away, who knew if perhaps she might be able to head back and try to convince Commander Raj that she should be brought back.

Because if she have to hear another complaint about how some lady of one House wore the same outfit to some society ball, she was going to rip her hair out.

Okay, maybe not quite so dramatically, but it was up there.

"None, keep up the diligence." Ah, even her usual tone was uplifted with a measure of cheer, which in hindsight, might confuse anyone who heard her. As if she was enjoying conducting an escort mission for a prisoner. Out in the field for weeks on end, little time for a shower, but free to reasonably talk your mind without the artificial nonsense? Sign me up!

One of her swords was secured on her horse, while the other remained on her back. She wore black, scale leather armor, allowing her the freedom of moment that heavy metal chain lacked. Her hair was tied back high on the crown of her head, but sweat and time managed to free wisps of raven hair along the sides of her face.

"Ah, smells great out here doesn't it?" again, the cheer, the joy of being out on the road. Perky really. If the smell of wet grass, sweat, and smoke lingering from a fire were up to anyone's measure of smelling great.

 

[Vale]

Vale has asked to be part of the escort as well but completely separate from the others. The moon resided in the sky as the entire land was covered by the night's touch. This was his domain and he navigated through the darkness with ease as he acted as a pair of eyes for the caravan. Unfortunately, he hadn't been ready to take part in bringing down Cerin Vettel but he had heard of the monstrosities he committed against the city and his people. It took a few Dreadlords down and if he couldn't have partaken, then he could at least help ensure that the man was delivered safely to face his crimes.

The Dreadlord moved silently and quickly as he approached the treeline and easily navigated between the trees and almost moved like a mist. He continued on his silent and lonely trek until he heard a snap. Vale appeared out of the black mist and stood still as a statue, his silver eyes the only part of him moving as they slowly scanned the trees around him. The lights of the caravan were behind him but the torches and lamps couldn't reach out to him even though he didn't need the light. Shadows around him whispered softly, soft voices that were all different to some degree, some sounding like children, women, and men. They were trying to warn him of something but there were too many voices for him to make out what they were saying. Vale's ability to see in the dark wasn't the best but it certainly wasn't bad but he still couldn't see anything between the bark of trees, whatever it was, it knew how to remain hidden.

A few minutes later, some of the horses of the caravan would snort as Vale silently and suddenly appeared from the darkness in front of everyone, black wispy trails rising from his shoulders and feet for a few moments until the effect disappeared. The white long hair he contained reflected in the light and let the group know that it was actually him. "There has been something tracking us for the past ten minutes." When the caravan caught to him, he fell in step with the others as his gaze was directed to the treeline where he discovered the sign of whatever was following them. Vale still spoke calmly but his gaze continued to scan the outside perimeter of the Dreadlords and Knights. "It's fast."

 

[Alakir]

The less seasoned Guardsmen listened to everything and strained to hear whatever the Dreadlords had to say. When it came to these more dangerous missions, anything they heard could influence their mood and disposition. Unfortunately, a chunk of them seemed to be deeply effected by Zana's pointed dislike of the situation.

"What's she mean, 'she don't trust the quiet?"

That was where the whispers started. From one end of the caravan to the other, a quieted malcontent settled over the non-magical elements of their entourage until even Alakir caught himself looking over his shoulder.

Pissing Greenblood, he snorted.

They had Anirian Knights with them, even. Ah, the Knighthood! His father's own dream, the apex of Guardsmen, and everything he'd been told he should be from the time he was a small boy. Yet when he saw them for himself, Alakir couldn't help feeling underwhelmed.

The more reserved of the two was a man with a bow, while his charismatic counterpart seemed ready to take on the world with irony and sarcasm instead of her sword. It takes all kinds, he decided.

The Caravan slowed when another Dreadlord, a scout by the sound of things, announced that they were being followed. "Tracked?" came the unnerved response. "Tracked by what?"

"We're like to find out anyway, so mind your sword and keep your shield ready," the red-eyed Guardsman replied. "Remember your training. Don't worry about what you don't know."

The rear guards huddled closer to the caravan and kept their eyes open for anything that might leap from the shadows. Some of the guards further up the line started to have similar misgivings.

"Beg pardon, sir," Alakir spoke aside to Talus, "you ought tell your Dreadlord mates to mind the Greenbloods when they speak. They're starting to shit their breeches."

 

[Landon]

Sibylla

Good gods. Had they stuck him with some pollyanna knight? Her tone was enough to cause him to grimace. Like steel grating across rocks. The smell?

Eugh.

Stirred up darker memories of a farm along the coast. Screams of a woman as the army of orcs came. That same salt in the air mixed with blood.

Fingers tightened on the reigns as he dragged his eyes along the craggy rocks above one more time before sweeping them to Sibylla. A flicker to her face. That bounce in her ride.

"Aye. Maybe yah can bottle the scent of rotting fish and sell it in the markets on your road to retirement." Not even a twitch in his lips as his face turned to look up the dark road ahead.

 

[Sibylla]

|| Landon ||

Wow, Sibylla thought, mouthing the word silently in growing amusement. Talk about channeling the arsehole personality.

What crawled up his arse to make him so prickly? she mused. While it didn't dampen her humor, it certainly paved the way to her carving her first impression of the Anirian Knight.

What's wrong with the scent of salt? Sure, their path up the coastline had some questionable aromas that had some of the greenbloods hurling, but otherwise, now that they were on the unoccupied area, there was something about the brisk air that was enough to make anyone take a nice deep, appreciative breath.

"Fish? Don't know what or who you've been doing the past few hours, but there is no smell of fish." came her quip, her hands lightly handling the reins of her horse as it began to prance. It had sensed something. Drawing her attention, the Knight swept her probing gaze across her surroundings. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Just then, a chill ran up her spine and the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end. That always seemed to happen whenever something felt off. Had they've been in the company of the rest of the group, the Knight would have understood why.

"Do you hear something?" She called out curiously, her query not actually asking if he heard anything, but more the absence of sound.

 

[Talus]

Talus looked up at Zana, frowning for a moment as he resisted the urge to put a hand on her stirrups as he spoke. "I know. It feels...off."

He'd had much the same feeling as Zana had. There was something wrong in the air. Vettel was not an easy man to capture, and he doubted that he would be an easy man to keep captured. His fingers tightened slightly with a frown.

Something would...

Just as he had the thought another Dreadlord popped up in front of the party, his gaze narrowing as someone spoke of something following them. A curse echoed from his lips, and he motioned towards the Guardsmen that approached him. "Yeah well Dreadlords don't always have tact."

He scowled.

"Get everyone ready for an attack, Alakir." The Guardsmen made up the majority of the escort, if they were going to take losses...it would most likely be his men. "Somethings out there."

Talus trusted the other Dreadlords enough to at least believe that.

 

[Zana]

Zana's cold green gaze swept from Talus to Alakir as he jogged up alongside them. She recognised him now; they had had a mission along the Cortosi Coast with one another and had had a few training sessions at the Guardshouse. Her lips pressed into a thin line at his comment and she turned around in her saddle to inspect the men behind them. She understood, or at least Talus was helping her to, that these men were not trained in the same way as Dreadlords which was to break a person entirely down till they had nothing left then rebuild them in the perfect image. But on times like this it was hard.

"They need to learn."

Her eyes moved back to Talus. She could feel his concern through the bond for his men and after a moment Zana sighed, pulled once more on her reins and then pulled herself out of the column altogether. At a lazy canter she moved Zandor back down the line so that she was positioned right at the back. None of the other Dreadlords would care about the guards being cannon fodder, their focus would be on the carriage, but she would do this for him.

A few men nervously glanced from her to the horse who was now prancing impatiently at being stuck behind the slow steady march of a man. In her angelic armour she knew she looked daunting even to other soldiers, something straight out of a book from the heavens come to wreck havoc on mankind.

"I am the scariest thing you're going to have to worry about at your back boys, eyes forward," her words were firm but not unkind as she attempted some of what Talus had told her was 'banter'. Some even looked a little relieved. Progress. Zana slipped back into the easy silence of her own company as her eyes roved the treeline either side of them. If this thing tracking them was fast then it could be with them so---

The ground under their feet was broken and damanged

- had that been one of her Dreadlords or the enemy? -

Arrows littered the ground, men lay dying or dead. The carriage was overturned, the horses slaughtered. One wheel still spun. More than a few of the invisible force littered the ground dressed in a brilliant white surcoat or robes with a bloody fist emblazoned on their chests. Magic was being flung across their heads between the Dreadlords which remained and those within the forces who had attacked.​

The pain of the vision was hard to sit through and it took most of her concentration not to slide from the saddle. The helmet obscured the two lines of blood that trailed down her cheeks and she dragged in a deep breath.

But when? When was it coming?

 

[Vale]

Vale walked along the edge of the caravan's light, his gaze continually scanning as everyone knew something was out there and watching them. Someone asked what it was but the Dreadlord remained silent as he would have provided the answer if he knew the answer himself. Most of the time, he preferred the quiet but it wasn't a natural quietness that surrounded the group.

He was slightly ahead of the carriage and after a couple of minutes, he raised a closed fist in the air as the universal signal to stop. The caravan continued for a few more steps but eventually halted, realizing it was probably best to listen to the Dreadlord, the driver just staring at him. Vale glanced around, his eyes obviously tracking something in the darkness as he flicked them in different directions every second. "We're surrounded." The guards shifted quietly at the revelation but they kept their gazes on the perimeter, waiting for something to finally reveal itself.

The Dreadlord couldn't make out was out there except that shapes were moving and they weren't natural. He waited there as the only sound was the flickering of flames from the torches and the sound of waves. Precious seconds ticked by and that's when a sudden bright light exploded in the middle of the night and nearly lit up the whole area. "Get down!" Vale crouched instantly as a fireball soared and screamed above him and toward the caravan. One of the guards on horseback behind him successfully stepped out the way but another wasn't so quick. The flames engulfed the animal and man completely, the rider lifelessly being thrown off as the flaming horse got onto its hind legs and let out a pain-filled scream. It looked as if it was a creature from the depths of oblivion as its mane caught fire as well. The horse ran off for only a couple of feet before it collapsed.

Vale stood up slowly but gaze locked directly above them and into the sky, his silver iris' shining as bright as the moon themselves as he could witness was coming. "Cover!" The guards may have been scared but they could still rely on instinct and each one raised their shield if they had one.

A second later the entire caravan would be able to hear a unified whistling sound that drew closer with each moment. It was a wave of arrows descending on the group but before they could find their target, each one was ignited in mid-air and turned them into flaming ones. It lit up the sky in an orange hue and the Dreadlord gathered the shadows that were gathered around him and erupted a wall of darkness. The arrows aimed for him and the carriage passed through but lost their flame and velocity as they just fell to the ground.

 

[Landon]

Sibylla

"Considering I've been with you the past few hours..," the man began with a half smirk that quickly turned sober. Head cocked. He heard the waves lapping against the shores to their left. The hollow wind along the rocks the the beat of their horses' hooves along the craggy ground.

But she was right.

There should've been more. Always crickets around this time of night. The rhythmic call of the cicadas. A bright flashing glow that took his attention from his periphery and behind. Where they'd left the caravan.

"Fuk me," fingers tightened on the reigns as he maneuvered the horse in a 180 degree turn. Eyes tracked the rocks, seeing a path that lead up to the ledge. He pointed to Sibylla.

"Let's try to flank them!"

They might be able to find the attacking party and split their attention away from the caravan.

 

[Sibylla]

|| Landon ||

Did he just insult me?

"No, the only thing you've been riding is that horse." Sibylla shot back automatically, her eyes panning and darting around to pick up on what was making her sixth sense tick.

The flash of the light drew the rest of her quips and their attention was redirected to the flashing glow behind them. Sibylla tightened her hold on the reins, guiding Skaren to the right, his hooves stamping upon the dirt and sending tuffs of dust into the air.

"Hells bells," her own curse followed Landon's own, a scowl forming over her olive features. A jerk of her head in agreement and the 'Ha!" of a cry to nudge her horse rearing forward towards the path.

"Hurry up!" she exclaimed, yelling out behind her.

 

[Landon]

Sibylla

Well, shite.

His fellow knight certainly could ride. And yell. He leaned forward in the saddle, following closely at her heels then pulling up beside her. While his gaze was directed ahead, his voice was for her ears only.

"Lass, while I much prefer the view from back there can ye not yell so much so that all the enemy knows we're coming?" That same twisted tug along one corner of his mouth. "Make a wager with yah. Whoever gets the least kills agrees to take first watch tonight."

 

[Sibylla]

|| Landon ||

Sibylla gave a whip of her head and a glower of ice daggers at Landon's direction, her knees working the might of the animal underneath her as she rode Skaren forward over the craggy rocks towards the upward trail. Large, thick spined trees with dark, scaled bark would flank them to the right, while in the left, the roar of crashing waves continued to pelt the black pebbled shore.

"That wasn't yelling," she shot right back, her own smirk darting to cant the corner of her mouth upwards. "Trust me, you haven't heard me yell yet."

Oh, the double entendres. The sort she wouldn't be able to quip out in the hallowed company of Dreadlords and nobles. The kind that made her miss her former position out West.

Adrenaline shot through her veins, and while her sullen and scruffy companion finally decided to say more than a few words the past few minutes than the last few hours, Sibylla felt ecstatic. Perhaps it was the thought of getting into a fight or being able to use her skills in a manner that she hadn't been able to since her re-assignment to the city.

Either way, Landon wasn't going to ruin her good mood. Even if the night brought with it certain death itself.

"You're on. Double or nothing, for two-night watches."

 

[Landon]

Sibylla

"Deal. Hope supply still has coffee cause you're gonna need it. A shame you won't get yer beauty sleep, though."

Looking at those eyes of hers as they caught the glint of the moonlight was like looking in a mirror. A frigid mirror with undertones of mirth.

His horse's name was Ferg. And they'd been riding together since the Eastern front. The animal was no stranger to entering battles or the chaotic magic of dreadlords.

They were on that path and he shifted his weight in the saddle as Ferg went up the incline.

He had a feeling they'd get a good view of whoever was attacking their caravan soon. One hand gripped the reigns, while his other drew the bow from his back. He didn't really need reigns with Ferg anymore. The horse was so well trained and attuned to his movements and minute shifts in his muscles to know what the rider wanted.

 

[Sibylla]

|| Landon ||

"You're the one needing it, Landon," Sybilla shot back, the ground shifting with every strike of hooves from their horses gallop, body following the rise and fall to move with her horse.

"Otherwise why you got that fur hiding the bulk of your face?" Oo, a barb on the scruff. Well, she didn't know him well so she could only give out potshots based on what she could see. The dark, beard that covered his swarthy jaw was good enough for now.

Up ahead, they caught sight of a break in the trees to the left, where the road they'd road past earlier lay. Of course, it was at that moment that the whistle of a dozen arrows cut through the air.

"Shit," no more time for banter. It was time to move. A quick hand took the hilt of her sword attached to Skaren's saddle and she drew it with a deft stroke.

 

[Landon]

Sibylla

"Keeps me warm a-," Landon's voice trailed off.

"Dragon's shite," he grumbled and released the reigns. Calloused fingers plucked an arrow from his quiver. Ferg knew what to do. Stretching the bow back, he released a sungsteel tipped arrow. It buried itself deep into one of the archer's chest.

The man screamed and crumpled to the ground. The others in the attacking camp scrambled, looking for where the arrow came from. Landon has another notched with the tip burying itself in another's archer's forehead.

"Tha's two, Sib." Another arrow loosened from his bow as a volley of arrows was shot at the two knights. Ferg swerved. Smart horse, this one.

 

[Alakir]

In keeping with his senior officer's command, Alakir barked orders to the men. They held fast as the sudden attack came, but the surprise dulled their wits to anything beyond instinct. The more inquisitive rear guard found himself two arrows heavier in the shoulder, and crouched back behind a sloppy shield wall.

A wall of flames encircled the caravan within seconds of the first salvo, which boded poorly for the Guardsmen who hoped that grouping together would drive down the number of casualties. "Form up on the prisoner's cart," Alakir shouted. "No one in, no one out. Last resort, cut the bastard's neck- better he dies here than goes free."

It was a pragmatic order, but one that brought the men back from the brink. A few shots made their marks in the back of retreating Anirians, but the majority were able to tighten formation and get their shields ready.

Alakir watched the flames for any man who dared to breach them.

 

[Talus]

He didn't see it, not this time, but he certainly felt it. The vision struck her like a brick, rebounding on to him.

Talus was about to say something else to Zana when his words were interrupted by the whistling sound of arrows. His fingers almost immediately flexed, and he instinctively reached out towards her as if to pull her from the horse and guard her body with his.

The hand only stopped when his conscious mind told him how stupid that would actually be.

Zana was a Dreadlord, one that was stronger than him, doing something like that could very well get her killed. Instead his fingers tightened into a fist, lips thinning as he drew back and barked out an echo of Alakir's order.

There was no way in the seven hells he'd let that bastard get away.

"Zanna, shield." The order came instinctively, quick, terse. There was no thought in that moment except the danger that was flying towards them. His sword rung as it flew free of his scabbard, Talus preparing himself for whatever stepped forth from the flames.

 

[Zana]

Zana shield.

Her hand gripped the pommel of her saddle as she tried to work through the nausea and pain. A flurry of arrows got through to the men in front of her before she managed to get the shield up. A purple dome suddenly sprouted up and over the group. Arrows hit the purple energy then disintegrated into nothing. It gave the group a reprieve at the very least as they collected themselves and hurried to carry out Talus' and Alakir's orders.

The earth broke beneath them.

Men fell into the fissures screaming, grabbing at the falling earth as it caved in.

A horse screamed as it broke its leg going down.

The vision jarred over the top of what she was seeing in front of her. The Earth began to tremble and men gave shouts.

"GET AWAY FROM THE CRACKS!" Zana's warning came the barest of seconds before cracks began to form in the Earth. It shot from the forest straight towards the carriage, like it had purpose. One of the Dreadlords ahead of her caught her warning and she recognised him - or rather his horse - as the one in her vision.

And just like that, the future shifted as he pulled his horse away from the crack and let out a bolt of icy magic that saved the Carriage from falling into the pit.

Shifted the wrong way. She felt the Earth shift under Zandors hooves a second later.

 

[Sibylla]

|| Landon ||

Blade in hand, Sibylla lept off Skaran, letting the horse run off to avoid the rain of arrows. He would find shelter and later, should she survive this, come when called. But for now, it was best for him to get away from the battle.

Two archers were to her right, docking their arrows in preparation to let them fly. Sibylla deftly shot forward, her blade glinting silver under the light. It came sweeping down, whipping through the air with deadly precision, striking at the first archer's head. Blood splattered across her face, armor, and the ground, the body falling in a limp, heavy thud.

That's one!

Just as quickly, using the advantage of the surprise attack, Sibylla gave a sharp upsweep against the second archer, opening a deep laceration diagonally across his chest. A cry of pain followed, choked away by Sibylla's following strike across his throat. That rush of adrenaline went dancing through her veins, feeding each and every strike of her blade.

Two!

It wasn't as pretty as Landon's or as whisper-quiet, but it got the job done. Flicking her head towards the left, she saw another archer, quickly lifting his bow to send an arrow flying straight towards the Knight. Deft footsteps made her dodge to the right, crouching to the ground. The arrow cut through the air, striking the tree trunk beside her with a solid thunk!

Her spare hand went down to the side of her boot, where her throwing knife lay in its sheath. A flicker under the moonlight and then a flick of her wrist sent the blade flying. With a deadly twirl, it crossed the distance until it landed right upon the third archer's chest, striking true.

Getting back up, she went rushing to the fallen archer in an attempt to reclaim her dagger. All the while, Landon would here that cheerful voice through the trees, "Three!"

 

[Vale]

For the arrows that hadn't been deflected or destroyed, they pierced the ground or the bodies of the fallen and illuminated the rest of those in light perfectly to be seen. The others had managed to at least find protection from the arrows but right after the ground rumbled unexpectedly. Cracks split down the earth and were aimed straight for the carriage as Vale heard the Dreadlord's warning about the very thing.

One of the Dreadlords and his mount near Vale almost fell into the cracks and threatened to be swallowed whole but the man managed to use his magic to push the carriage away from the freshly formed depths. Vale had remained near the vehicle and when it was pushed, he jumped back and latched onto the side of it to let it carry him to safety as well. Half of the guards that had been ordered to form up on the carriage had the same idea and jumped on with him. The other half, however, was cut off as the crack continued to split and left them on Zana's and Talus' side.

Vale jumped down from the carriage as did the other guards, his eyes snapping to the other Dreadlords and then to the treeline in front of them. "Shit." He gestured with a hand to the guards that were on his side of the crack, "Form up tight." It was a small group but it was better then nothing and the Dreadlord drew his sword from his back and stood beside them. He was able to spot the movement in the dark but the others would hear it, a battle cry in unison as a wave of men on each side of the pit would come down like a wave. They were donned in a mix of leather and metal armor but they all proudly displayed a symbol, the red fist, either directly on their chest or on their shoulder pad.

Behind the wave of attackers, the Dreadlords would start to see fireballs being formed again, illuminating the treeline enough that men with robes with the same symbol on their chest ready to rain their magic down on them like artillery.

 

[Landon]

As much as he enjoyed watching Sibylla with that sword, out of his periphery, a different kind of brightness caught his eyes even as he loosened an arrow at another - right in the throat, the man dropped dead instantly.

Mages.

The ground trembled and Ferg reared.

Landon leaned forward so as not to get bucked.

"The hell?" He muttered, blues tracking the trajectory back to the carriage below. "Sib," the man yelled, head jerking toward those in the strange robes with a symbol that tickled his memory. "We have to take them out!"

Dragon's piss. If it wasn't a dreadlord flaunting their powers it was someone else while the regular folk got caught between. Landon loaded his bow and turned as Ferg settled down. An arrow went straight for one of the mages, knocking him in the chest. That fireball he was making went down with him.

Two more deaths.

"Oy, y'think mages count 2-1?" Landon called in jest, though his lips remained pressed thin. His shot caught one of the other mage's attention as a fireball was released in his direction.

"Shit!" Ferg reared and this time Landon fell with an oomph on his back. The fireball exploding into a tree behind them as Ferg ran off.