Fable - Ask War is the Father of All Things

[Kristen Pirian]

"On your feet, raiders!" Jarl Yngvir bellowed. "Even you, Lars, you laggard!" A few laughs from around the camp as the giant that was 'Lars the Laggard,' possibly the one Norden who least deserved that title, stood up with an implacable grin and hefted his axe to his shoulder.

Kristen glanced around, then placed her bowl down beside the fire. An impulse of pure etiquette, however tiny, to thank the men who had prepared and shared the food with the three of them—yet they had gone on their way.

That impulse. She rather liked it. Yes, it made the melancholy she felt a fleeting wind, and away it blew. Had not Father himself said to her before she embarked on this venture that to him she brought naught but joy?

Still, Proctor Magomo's task loomed. Would she be able to do it? Or...would she be, as Brenna said, a Fair Ankles?

The Nordenfiir of the forward party were moving out, whilst the defenders of the camp began to post their sentries. Kristen stood, sword in hand, and fell in with the forward party with Alistair and Brenna.

She glanced briefly to Alistair. Then forward. A tiny glance to Brenna and then forward again.

Despite a wall of uncharacteristic reticence, Kristen decided to speak as they walked. "Alistair...Proctor Magomo gave to me an additional task on this venture. One that he demands to be done."

Her lips pulled into a hard-set line.

"I am to return to Vel Anir with the severed head of an orc that I myself have felled."

Alistair Krixus Brenna

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair chuckled as they both figured out the misunderstanding and nodded. That made sense. Being called pale was confusing, but being called weak was simple. All one had to do was prove them wrong.

Their opportunity would come quickly as Yngvir mustered the camp. Watching the northerners prepare for battle was always interesting as it made Alistair realize how much they stood out here. The usually hulking warriors gathered around with their weapons already drawn as they drove themselves into a fury before the battle even started.

Meanwhile, Alistair stood calmly among the brutes with little armor, and his blade still sheathed at his waist. It did not really matter, there were hundreds of ways to wage war. Alistair just found it interesting.

Kristen grabbed his attention with an additional task she had been given and Alistair nodded in understanding.

"Seems simple enough. I am sure we will have plenty of chances...I will stay out of your fights." He did not add that he would step in if she was about to die, that seemed obvious.

Kristen Pirian Brenna

 

[Brenna]

With Brenna marching ahead, she did not see the words passed between the Initiates. If she had, she would have been able to warn them about the orcs of the North.

Instead she led the way to the muster point where the other Nordens were gathering. Once the other stragglers had joined them the Jarl stepped forward with his fists on his hips and surveyed what he was working with. The easy grin he wore was no indicator as to whether what he saw pleased him, but was actually the result of an old war wound that lifted his lips into a permanent half smile. Bre folded her arms across her chest and waited.

"A few scragglers managed to avoid us, so the fucking filth probably know we're coming. But that just means we're in for a better fight, don't it?!" there was a cheer amongst the troop and the Jarl laughed to himself.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen hid from her expression the truth of her troubled mind as best she could. She was a touch dismayed by Alistair's answer, but...for what reason? What was she expecting him to say? Where had all of that fire gone? So brightly had it burned whilst aboard the ship, how strongly it had pulsed through her veins while she chanted along with the Nordenfiir's war poem. Yet now it was as if that determination dimmed with each step that brought her closer to Godendrung, to the fulfillment of Proctor Magomo's special task.

Was this not the grim business of a Dreadlord? That very thing which she aspired to become? She had chosen this, willingly, and now she was here. She needed to do this. She had resolved to do it. These orcs were foul creatures, loathsome foes, and not least the current captors of her cousin Mina and a fellow Anirian Jiya. So from where did these troubles in her mind arise? Was this not the duty she had taken upon herself the very day she assented to enroll into the Academy?

("My Darling Daughter...")

She pushed it all down. Said levelly, "Very well. I shall conduct myself in a manner worthy of that confidence."

Jarl Yngvir roused his raiders, the cheer which the Nordens returned loud and primal and all in unison, and it was to this resounding cry that the march to Godendrung began. A fair bit of walking under the ominous night sky was ahead of the raiding party, and the looming orcish stronghold would be within their sight all the while.

And, curiously, one of the firelights of the watchtowers inside Godendrung turned from orange to green.

Alistair Krixus Brenna

 

[Alistair Krixus]

If Kristen was expecting Alistair to be more supportive then she would be sadly mistaken. The extra mission was not that surprising to him. These types of assignments often added extra stipulations. It was just the way things were.

This was all just business. They had to do the job anyway, which would certainly involve killing. If they had to do the job anyways then they might as well get credit for it.

The cheering coming from the Norden was once again annoying, but Alistair remained silent. As the troops moved forward, he followed along in a relaxed position. Once again, so many of the Norden were up close and personal. It might be more beneficial for him to provide ranged cover for them.

His eyes looked into the distance to barely notice the change in color of one of the towers. He unsheathed his dueling dagger slowly, so as to let it rest comfortably in his left hand.

"Get ready. They definitely know we are here now."

Kristen Pirian Brenna

 

[Brenna]

"Remember, mind your feet," Brenna turned to say to her companions. In hindsight she probably should have expanded further about exactly why they should mind their footing, but for the Nordenfiir it was common knowledge. As common as the sky being blue, at least, and to say it was bordering on an insult this far north. Without another word she let her axe slide comfortingly into her palm and, when given the order, let out a blood curdling cry befitting her clan and charged forward.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

GODENDRUNG​

The flames of the watchtowers lit the outline of the imposing orcish walls. Godendrung may have been primarily a mining encampment, but everything in the Blightlands was built with war in mind.

Jarl Yngvir's march had slowly turned into a jog as the approach became shorter and shorter, and then a run as those very walls loomed closer and closer. A horn, deep in tenor, blew as the Nordenfiir grew close enough to hear shouts in Orcish from the ramparts. Even as Lessat's full glow was unveiled by briefly parting clouds, the ranged fire from Godendrung was mostly ineffective, arrows from bows and stones from slings striking dirt and shrubs more so than flesh.

What Kristen witnessed next was astounding.

Accustomed in accounts of war to ladders and siege towers for the purpose, the Nordenfiir's methods were as alien to her as they were savagely effective for their aggressiveness. A good number of Norden warriors were twirling grapples in their hands as they ran at the walls, throwing them up and then climbing up the ropes with such effortless ease it appeared that the walls were flat ground and that they were merely running across them. Others still were armed with special picks in their hands and attachments on their boots which they used to scale the walls with similar relentlessness. And at the front gates themselves, Lars "the Laggard" transformed into a bear that was more hulking monster than wild animal, slamming massive paws into the wood and with each strike dismantling more and more of it—soon enough there would be nothing to stop the awaiting Nordenfiir on the ground from storming through.

Brenna was already charging forward.

Kristen, however, reached over and put a hand to Alistair's chest. She had to raise her voice to be heard. "Perhaps a fair touch of shrewdness is called for! We mustn't forget our primary mission!"

The fighting atop the walls sounded pitched indeed, and though it would be easy to get bogged down, there were ropes available for climbing now. Lars was working on the gate, and with some patience it would be demolished soon. Or perhaps there were more clever ways in.

Time, no matter the decision, would be precious indeed.

Alistair Krixus Brenna

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was silent for the jog and for the beginnings of the fight as he looked around the battlefield, trying to determine the best results.

He nodded in agreement with her statement, but he still was not entirely sure how he wanted to do this. The climb was likely the worst option. Things could go wrong while going up, and then they were likely to get stuck at the top.

The hole in the wall might be better, but their was a chance that the bear of a man was stopped and then the hole just became a choke hold...no they needed a different path.

He did have the coin. It was the same one he had given to Zael. The problem was the landing. No, don't doubt yourself.

Alistair dropped a coin onto the ground and then took Kristen's hand. "Figure out how to land."

Before she could ask any questions, Alistair jumped onto the coin and would feel a jolt of magic run through him as he and Kristen were thrown into the air up above the walls.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Brenna]

Several Nordenfiir paused to watch the two Summerlanders be propelled into the air for in the same way their way of war might have been alien to Kristen, their use of magic was alien to the Nords.

"Well, follow them!" the Jarl barked when he caught Brenna with her chin tilted back to watch the ascent with wide eyes. Her fingers were half way through the mark to ward off evil without much thought and several others around her spat. She gave the larger man a scowl which made him grimace; despite Brenna's tiny statue in comparison to her countrymen her displeasure was more feared than most.

"I just mean..." he hurmphed. "They can't be hurt, understand? I'm trusting you," with one final look he nodded to himself and continued with shouting orders. Brenna merely sighed and grabbed a hold of one of the ropes. Perhaps she would have to attach reins to the pair, though the idea of being flown into the air holding said reins made her stomach flip.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

"Wha—AH!"

Quick as that transition from question to exclamation, Kristen's feet were off the ground and both she and Alistair were sailing upwards as if launched from a catapult. An arrow streaked between the link of their held hands so close that the fletching on its end brushed against Kristen's gauntlet. By a queer trick of perspective it was, for a second, as if the ground and the walls were falling away from her. Below, underneath her feet now at the apex of their parabola, the widespread fighting across the ramparts, Norden raiders versus the Blight Orc warriors. Ahead, the tallest tower at the center of Godendrung housed that strange green flame.

And the descent began.

Figure out how to land.

Kristen hastily let go of Alistair (trusting that he had a way of mitigating his own landing) and switched her sword to her left, freeing up her porcelain hand. She'd need it. A technique, one she had learned by accident fighting against Kalix in a spar, flashed into mind. And oh did she send a quick prayer to Aionus that it would work.

Their downward arc was close enough to the gatehouse, the fortified structure above the gates themselves providing shelter for orcish archers and a chokepoint for orcish warriors stand firm (and were it not for the efforts of Lars, a strategic bastion which would have defined who had control of the gates). Kristen outstretched her hand up toward the overhanging roof of the gatehouse and from her palm shot a Withering Chain into it. The Chain pulled taut and there came a yank on her arm, and she was swung over to dangle like an ornament.

Below, the formation of heavily armored orcish defenders, they who had assembled to hold the gate once the doors were broken down, all looked up. Kristen looked down on them. In more ways than one.

Filthy, barbaric greenskins.

What fear she might have had was smothered. They were Duresh. All of them. Savages, murderers, kidnappers.

Kristen dispelled her Withering Chain and dropped down, reciting a verse as she fell. Her feet touched the ground at the same time as a summoned Ashen Crucifix beside her. The orcish defenders, each one of them prepared to cleave through the human girl the moment was within range, all inadvertantly laid eyes on the baleful sight of the Crucifix and, afflicted by its fearful magic, stood momentarily possessed by a frigid terror. One even dropped his weapon and stumbled out of formation.

Kristen raised her sword, her expression a hard-set scowl.

* * * * *​

Inside the underground complex of tunnels and chambers beneath Godendrung, Ulren Varchek sat in conference with the Overseer of Godendrung, a colossal orc named Dulfragg.

An orcish scout barged into the flame-lit chamber, exclaiming in Orcish, "They're here!"

Dulfragg dismissed the scout with only a simple jerk of his head. And then to Ulren he said, "Watch the slaves, human. Can you manage that?"

Ulren, accustomed to the disdain the Blights showed everyone aside from the Fire Giants and their own kind, was unbothered—doing business with them necessitated a high degree of thick skin. He replied as well in Orcish, "Yes. I don't think you'll take long."

At that Dulfragg's face split open into a malevolent grin. "The Nordenfiir will find their doom within these walls."

Alistair Krixus Brenna

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was beginning to use that coin more and more and he absolutely hated it. The rune on the coin had been created to help move large cargo onto larger ships. Needless to say, people aren't cargo, so a lot of things can go wrong.

Being thrown through the air was always a little nerve-racking. He had to worry if Kristen would manage to land, but he also had to make sure he landed as well. Of course, he had enchanted his boots for this very purpose.

As Alistair fell down towards one of the roof tops, he pointed his boots directly down and activated the magic at the last second. Two quick and powerful streams of air shot from the boots and slowed his decent enough to make sure he did not break any bones.

Al quickly looked around and was satisfied to see Kristen had figured out her landing. With that settled, Alistair drew the runesaber from his belt and activated the weapon. He might as well cut down a few orcs on his way to hookup with Kristen.

The first orc never saw him descend from above, and the next few had very little time to react. It took several more orcs dying before they started to realize that the blade of the runesaber could cut through their own weapons with ease. Combine that with Alistair own skill with the sword, and he became truly deadly on the battlefield.

Kristen Pirian Brenna

 

[Brenna]

The thuds of her axe sliding into the wall of ice and rock were far more comforting than the thoughts of flight and whilst magic was quicker, Brenna was by no means slow in scaling to the top to join her two charges. Through her eyes the only sound was the muted thud of her own pulse in her ears but it was a fitting soundtrack to the carnage before her. The summerlanders were not doing too badly for summerlanders, but these were green orcs. When the blue-skins rose...

Her mouth tightened into a grimace. Best to keep close.

Rising to her full, unmighty height she swept her axe in a curving arc into the tender thigh tendons of an orc rushing towards her. Blood sprayed across the trampled white snow and across her face. When the orc screamed and his leg bowed beneath him from the pain she used the advantage of his neck being within easy swinging reach and relieved it of its head.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

The gates of Godendrung behind Kristen cracked horridly. Lars was almost done breaking down those mighty doors.

And the fear of this noise compounded onto the magical fear instilled by her Ashen Crucifix, and the squad of orcs who had stood ready to defend against the incursion of Nordenfiir through the gates turned and fled, some clutching dearly to their weapons, some abandoning them altogether.

They all fled. Except one.

The biggest among them. Mayhap the Blight Orc equivalent to a sergeant in whatever passed for an organized military among their kind. The magical fear of the Crucifix washed over him quickly and was gone, and he was able to look back to Kristen, eyes settling back into battle focus.

"I am Ekresh," he said in booming Orcish, though Kristen couldn't understand it. "And I take you as my slave."

Ekresh hefted his mansplitter—the gigantic two-handed axe he wielded—up and stepped forward and swung. He did not seem to care if his potential slaves were missing an arm or a leg, or perhaps he knew of some method by which lost limbs could be reattached and his slaves made serviceable again after he'd won the fight.

Kristen learned her lesson from before. She didn't try to stand toe-to-toe with her massive opponent. She faded back, feeling the wind of that missed swing of the mansplitter rush past her. Her back touched the walls of Godendrung, just to the right of the gates.

A quick recited verse, and Withering Chains like an agitated nest of snakes burst from the ground around Ekresh. They wrapped about his legs, his waist, his arms. Behind his helm Kristen could see the shock, but more intensely the anger, in his eyes. Her Chains were weakening and slowing him down, but, like with her Crucifix, some portion of her magic was being resisted by sheer force of will.

He advanced, Chains dragging after him, and they fought, Ekresh on the offensive, Kristen evasive and looking for her opening. Ekresh was armored head-to-toe, and from her training Kristen was fiercely recalling the weak spots in plated armor, namely the joints.

She needed her chance.

She needed to not fail Proctor Magomo.

Alistair Krixus Brenna

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The battlefield often felt chaotic to many, but it was a lot like sword fighting to Alistair. There was a rhythm that was a bit harder to grasp, but once you figured it out, then it was simple. Al could feel himself beginning to mix into the ebb and flow of the battle as he cut down orcs left in right.

He liked to tell himself that it was his skill that pushed the orcs back in fear, but he knew the real reason. It was the giant crucifix radiating dread.

As he neared the spot where he had seen Kristen, he spotted her standing off against a blue orc. He instinctively moved to rush in and helped, but he stopped himself. Kristen had said she had been a task to kill one of these single-handedly. He should give her the opportunity to prove herself. If things went wrong then...he would jump in.

Instead, he spent his time cutting down any other orcs that were not quick enough to run away.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Brenna]

Brenna caught sight of the giant blue orc sizing up to one of those who had been put under her charge and grimaced. With a grunt she yanked her axe free from the chest cavity of another of the blue-skinned freaks, and stepped forward to lend aid to the summerlander. And more importantly, to warn her. But Brenna never got the chance to warn poor Kristen. As she stepped forward, from behind an orc drove his metal shield down into her shoulder sending her sprawling into the ice and snow.

With a pained snarl she managed to roll onto her back before the sword turned her into a bear-on-a-stick. The orc laughed as his quarry attempted to run for her weapon and he gave chase, swinging the blade even as she ducked down to snatch up her axe. Soon, all thought of Kristen was all but erased from her mind.

Surely the Summerlanders knew that Blue Orcs could freeze a man with a single touch?

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Panting with exertion. Muscles burning hot. Fighting in this manner was gruesomely exhausting work. And how much more so would it have been if not for Proctor Magomo's relentless endurance training, those many, many laps he'd made her run around the Academy?

It was highly kinetic, flashes of Alistair here, Brenna there, the crumbling gate, all flying by. Kristen was constantly moving. Shifting position. Changing stances. Evading Ekresh's deadly mansplitter while trying to land surgical strikes of her own. But his armor saved him time and time again, Kristen unable to get at those small gaps of articulation.

Yet her armor saved her too. Ekresh swung a vicious strike which caught Kristen's pauldron with a shuddering CLANG, and she yelped in pain as the shock traversed the plate and the mail and the arming doublet beneath and reverberating horribly down her right arm. Had Ekresh not been weakened by her Withering Chains her shoulder might have been dislocated, yet still she knew her arm wouldn't be much fit for swordfighting for a while.

Then the gate collapsed with an echoing crash, and Lars along with eager Nordenfiir warriors began to stream inside Godendrung (the Crucifix Kristen had since let crumble to nothingness).

Ekresh looked that way, briefly, wary of the sound and what it meant. It was the only chance Kristen was going to get.

She tossed her sword from her right hand to her left. Casting out her right, she tried something novel: from her artificial palm a Chain flew and wrapped around Ekresh's neck (it worked! It actually worked!). She yanked and with the force of the magical Chain made Ekresh unsteady, sent him stumbling toward her.

As he passed, she slipped by...the entire length of her sword slicing into his armpit, the end of the blade having cut deep enough to taste flesh and draw blood.

Ekresh howled. Wheeled around to face her, still with the Chain around his neck like a leash.

Kristen spoke a Curse, voice baleful, the very air about the two of them trembling like a struck bell sounding doom. "Red will the river of your wounds run."

Ekresh's wounded arm shook. Blood squirted out in mighty pulses matching the beating of his heart, the splatters of it on the ground nauseatingly loud. He dropped his axe and howled again and fell to his knees and tried with his other hand to staunch the bleeding. Yet forcefully still did his blood spray through his armored fingers. Kristen yanked again the Chain and Ekresh fell face first to the dirt, and she dispelled the Chain as he rolled over onto his back.

There were many battles going on around her. But this one was hers.

Toward Ekresh she walked. As he lay there he kicked his legs in agony and bellowed with ever weakening strength profanities in his savage tongue. She bent over. Wrestled his helm from his head. Regarded his grotesque face, the face of a foe defeated by her hand, with a level serenity.

Kristen lifted her sword in both hands.

A somber thought: Henceforth, Father shall embrace a different daughter.

And then she plunged the blade through the gaze of her foe, and his struggles ceased.

Alistair Krixus Brenna

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair spent his time doing battle with the far less impressive regular orcs, that were all busy running away. He carved out a dueling circle for Kristen and her opponent, Al wanting to limit any chance of others interrupting the duel.

Of course, Alistair was not an idiot. They were still in a battle. The area he was making clean of enemies would also serve as a staging area for the Norden to regather their forces once they broke through the wall.

Alistair did not have long to wait for several stages of the battle to progress almost instantaneously. First, he heard the bellows as the walls and gate were overwhelmed by their allies. That had seemed like a sure thing, so it was a little surprise. Kristen's battle was far less of a sure thing, and Alistair found himself frequently sneaking glances to make sure she was ok.

He heard an orc roar and turned, worried that it was a roar of victory. He smiled as he realized that it was a roar of fear. Kristen had finally accomplished her secondary mission.

Alright, next problem. A rune lit up in the air around Alistair as he fired off several arcane bolts slamming into the orc that Brenna was fighting. The least he could do was offer her some support.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Brenna]

Brenna panted hard as she came to a stop in a low crouch, one leg stretched out to give her balance and one palm flat upon the floor. Patches of ice dotted the circle of their private arena where the orc had tried to pierce her with its frostbite but had not been quick enough for the slighter Nordenfiir. She could have shifted into a bear but in this particular fight being almost eight times the size she was now had its drawbacks. There were manoeuvres she couldn't do on four legs.

She shifted the weight of her axe in her hand as the two regarded each other coldly across the room. He was wearing just like her, a comforting thought in a strange way. She just needed to last longer than he or until he made a mistake.

The orc roared and lunged forward when suddenly bolts thudded into his back. Snarling, he turned to face Alistair and raised his mighty club--

-- this was her chance.

Pushing off into a sprint Brenna crossed the gap between them and leapt, using each bolt as a hand or foot hold and scaled the monstrous creatures back until she sat atop his shoulders like a toddler would its mother. The orc roared again, flinging its arms into the air and attempting to beat at the girl as she drew her axe across his throat. His torso jerked and a second later his legs failed, crashing to the ground and the pool of his own blood that awaited him. Bre hastily unwrapped her legs a moment before impact and stumbled forward miraculously on her feet with a grin.

"Thank you," she murmured and signed at the same time.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen jerked her sword from the skull of Ekresh. Orcish blood dripped from the edge which had cut his brachial artery, from the point which had plunged through the brittle bone behind his eyes.

I am to return to Vel Anir with the severed head of an orc that I myself have felled.

The battle raged around her.

Kristen turned her sword toward her fallen foe's neck.

Held it there as a grimace grew prominent across her countenance.

And then pulled the blade away, refusing to fulfill the final act of Proctor Magomo's assignment. She let her head roll back and out came a small huff of anguish. Let Proctor Magomo do what he will. It had to be enough for Kristen to claim victory with dignity, honor, and rightness of action. Barbarism of this kind was what turned the souls of human beings dark and cruel. She would have none of it.

"Blessed Aionus, Holy Sentinel, in Your name I place my faith," she said whilst still looking skyward. It was not the duty of a sentinel to engage in savagery, but to bear worthily the charge of what must be kept safe.

Bright green light flooded her vision. Kristen squinted and looked—

A crackling blast of acidic, magical energy had splashed down from the Greenflame watchtower at Godendrung's center, having been launched at a group of Nordenfiir. The Norden warriors all hollered in supreme agony, their armor and their flesh all melting together into a glowing green slush and dripping away from their skeletons as they perished.

Kristen watched it happen with eyes made wide with horror. She looked to the Greenflame tower and at its base were Blue Orcs in a solid defensive ring, protecting the ground level entrance. The Green flames swirling at the top of the tower were slow, and though it would take time, the tower would surely fire again.

She looked around. "Alistair! Brenna!"

She didn't even need to say what she was thinking. They had to do something.

Alistair Krixus Brenna

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair had watched Kristen fail her secondary assignment with a look of disappointment. He understood the need to protect others and all that other chivalry stuff, but this was war. The enemy would not forgive you for your forgiveness. That orc would kill her in a heartbeat if he had the chance. He would talk to Kristen about that later.

He did not have much time to think about it, because he was back to work. His eyes followed where Kristen pointed and he nodded.

As he rushed towards the tower, he began to draw runes that floated in the air before drifting over towards the soldiers. It would protect from the acid, if only a little, the wind in the area began to move slightly. Hopefully, that would be enough to scatter the acid enough so that it could be avoided.

"We need to get in that tower."

Kristen Pirian Brenna

 

[Brenna]

Brenna couldn't hear Kristen's shout but she saw her pointed finger. She needn't have bothered for Bre couldn't take her wide eyes off of it after seeing what it had done to friends and countrymen. Some of their best warriors were now gone in one single blast. There was no honour to that kind of warfare. If you could not look your enemy in the eye as you robbed it of its light, then you were no warrior. At least, that had been what her father had always said and in that moment Brenna couldn't help but agree.

When Alistair began to run forward she wasn't far behind. Perhaps their magic could protect her from the orcs.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Together the three of them ran. Norden warriors were engaged all around Godendrung, but the three of them had a clear line to the base of the Greenflame tower. If anyone had the chance of shutting down the Blight Orcs' foul magic quickly, it was them.

(Atop the tower, the next Blight Orc, puny like all the rest in line, was painted with the sacrificial markings. He inhaled from the bowl of incense held by the Shaman and was all too ready to throw himself into the Greenflame, to make of himself in death what his small, human-like body could not in life. But not yet, advised the Shaman's halting hand. A moment. The Greenflame had to be ready to accept his sacrifice.)

The Blue Orcs at the base of the tower saw them coming. They roared their guttural cries of battle, welcoming any and all challengers who would step to them. By Aionus, they were massive. Almost as big as those wandering ogres she and Delaney had encountered at Sentinel's Home.

Kristen went through her options as the distance closed. Crucifix, Chains, Curses. Maybe not the Crucifix—its magical fear could infect Alistair or Brenna if either of them looked at it. Many Chains would be needed to properly weaken even one of these gargantuan Blue Orcs. Curses, then. Shower them with Curses to debilitate and...

But there was something else. Something else, pressing upon her spirit now that she had crossed a threshold and claimed a life. Something within grasp. A dark silhouette in her mind's eye, beckoning for her hand to reach forth.

Kristen stopped some paces away from the ring of defending Blue Orcs. Hand outstretched, ready to speak a Curse—

From the ground erupted two gigantic metal spikes, puncturing cleanly through the heavy breastplates of two of the Blue Orcs and lifting their very feet from the dirt. Their legs dangled helplessly, blood gargled behind their tusks, and they stayed stuck on the shafts like grim, foreboding totems promising doom to any who beheld them.

Impalers. A Conjuration spell that shocked Kristen even more than the two Blue Orcs who had felt their lethality. She stared at her hand for a second, lips mouthing soundless words of awe.

The rest of the Blue Orcs, almost entirely undeterred by the sudden deaths of two of their comrades, charged forth at Alistair, Brenna, and Kristen.

Alistair Krixus Brenna

 

[Alistair Krixus]

As Alistair rushed forward with the others, his mind swirled with ideas as he tried to come up with anything that would break this wall of orcs. Big shows of force really weren't his style. However, without some way of breaking the wall, he really would not be of much use.

Then it happened, with an incredible amount of push, two spikes shot from the ground skewering two in the wall. Was that Brenna? No, then it had to be Kristen. He was not aware of that trick. It did not matter, all that mattered was that Kristen had made the crack. He would widen it.

Alistair activated the runesaber and dove into the hole in the wall created by the loss of two orcs. The time for swirling ideas was done. The ocean of thoughts calmed as he focused on one very specific thought, battle. Alistair lashed out with his magical blade, not focusing on cutting down enemies, but several hands there and a cut Achilles there. He did not need to kill them, it was quicker to leave them unable to fight, and then he could come back and kill them later.

Runes glowed along Alistair's legs making him faster than any normal human. His movement would be his defense, he weaved through the orcs never in one place long enough for an orc to get their hands on him.

Kristen Pirian Brenna

 

[Brenna]

Brenna skittered to a half halt when Kristen unleashed her lethal magic. It still did not sit right with her. Quietly she crossed herself and spat whilst still jogging forward, albeit now a little further away from Kristen. Looks concealed a great deal when it came to magic. Hand to hand combat, Brenna could judge her opponent by their size, their weight, the way they held a sword. But if they had magic?

Wisely keeping both Summerlanders in view just in case they decided it was not just the orcs they wanted to kill, Brenna followed Alistair into the hole in the shield wall. There was a brilliant display of refracted light in all manner of colours and then suddenly two orcs went flying, their screams only dying when they hit the floor at bad angles. From the middle of the defence rose a copper-furred bear. With a mighty sweep of her paw to one orcs head she took him down then buried her muzzle in its neck.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen cast her uncertainty and her awe to the wayside. She wasn't quite sure how she did that—

The Impalers retracted with violent speed back into the ground from whence they came, and the bodies of the two impaled orcs dropped harshly to the ground.

—or that. She had some fuzzy idea of the right mindset and the right thrust of will necessary to make this new spell manifest, but now wasn't the time to go on any studious pursuit. The fluke would have to remain just that until she could return to the Academy and properly hone this new aspect of her magic to reliability.

Alistair waded in, his runesaber (a breathtaking piece, a dichtomy of elegence and frighteningly deadly precision) slicing through those Blue Orcs who did not give the weapon its proper respect.

Brenna waded in, her bearform (the Anirian diplomats had warned both herself and Alistair of this, but seeing it with Lars, seeing it with Brenna, was still a touch shocking nonetheless) overpowering even the mightiest of the Blue Orcs at the tower's defense.

Kristen ran forward through the gap made by herself, Alistair, and Brenna. Her eyes were on the heavy iron door to the tower. She was keenly aware that time might not be on their side: Jiya and Mina were still here, somewhere in Godendrung, and victory for the Nordenfiir was not assured. Taking out the Greenflame tower would help in that latter regard, but her mission, Alistair's mission, was concerned with the former. They needed to hurry. They couldn't get bogged down. So what if they locked all these Blue Orcs out of the Tower and got down through other means later once the Greenflame was extinguished? It seemed to her the most expedient solution.

A Blue Orc, hedging against the possible worst outcome, began to shut the iron door. No more Blues were inside—they were all out on the field trying to defend in large numbers.

Kristen raised her false hand and shot out a Chain and yanked the Blue Orc away from the door. Flat down onto his stomach he crashed, temporarily disoriented. The Chain snaked back into her hand.

Kristen ran to the door. Stood just inside its portal. Shouted, "Alistair!"

And to Brenna she waved frantically, trying to get her attention as well.

Alistair Krixus Brenna