Aeraesar We take Arta Erë | The War Board

[The Shorai]

We take Arta Erë!​

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We are on the move. With the recent defeat at the city of Sindrost, the war council has agreed that the retaking of the fortress of Arta Erë is a strategic asset we cannot be without.

The Fortress of Arta Erë stands between the cities of Sindrost and Sharyrdaes, and is built upon a naturally formed chokepoint in the terrain. Its strategic value cannot be understated. Failure to secure this location will leave Sharyrdaes once again vulnerable to attack.
We cannot let this happen!

Secure the fortress and the enemy forces will flee!

Arta Erë is like any other traditionally built Aerai construct - vast, and grandiose. Due to this, a sizeable force is required to hold the location.
The surrounding area is a relatively open landscape to the south, with a sharp and jagged terrain to the north with a singular clear path through for many kilometers. The fortress is built into and upon the jagged landscape alongside this path.​

 

[Filn Stenlager]

This was supposed to have been a marvellous occasion.

In the months since he'd arrived in Aeraesar, Filn had been tasked with a particular objective. There were many relics from the old war, but none so grand as this. And from what he could tell, it was never actually completed in time! Hence, it had been Filn's duty to correct that. Construction of this sort was not necessarily his strongest suite, but while he was one of stone, there were many a dwarf with more a mind for metal. And Filn knew a thing or two.

This was supposed to have been a marvellous occasion.

Departing from Sharyrdaes with the wind in their hair, their quarry not long before them by these means. By air. To find himself upon the decks of an airship, this was no small wonder. He could not say when any had seen the like, let alone spoke of it. And here he was now, amongst the ranks of other dwarves, and with elves, their old Aerai friends.

And they were fighting fucking monsters!

He swung his hammer with a ferocious cry and clubbed one of the winged gargoyles in the side of the head. He was more frustrated at the monsters having crashed their little party more than anything. He had been so excited to get the jump on them from above with this thing.

He didn't know they could fly. Before the fortress had even come into view, over a dozen flying creatures descended upon them.

---

Isilya ​

 

[Isilya]

Isilya had been thrilled.

Flying—actually flying—was a marvel beyond anything she had ever dreamed of. The wind roared past her ears, and the ground stretched endlessly below, so far away it felt as though nothing could touch them. She had laughed, exhilarated, relishing the weightless freedom of it.

But then the sky darkened, and their fight began sooner than she'd anticipated.

Winged creatures, jagged and snarling, descended like vultures.

Her excitement had lasted all of five seconds.

Orders rang out, sharp and clear. She was already moving before they finished being spoken. Higher. She had to get higher.

Isilya vaulted up onto the rigging, her boots finding purchase with practiced ease, scaling the ship like she belonged there. One of the beasts tore past her, its claws outstretched, too close. She twisted away just in time, her grip tightening as it rushed by in a blur of shadow and leathery wings. Gods, what were these things?!

Three of their own had already been snatched from the deck, their screams cut short as their bodies plummeted.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, but her hands were steady as she pulled free her bow. Breathe. Her fingers found the fletching. She nocked an arrow, drew the string back to her cheek—

And loosed.

One.

The arrow buried itself deep into the throat of a creature mid-flight. It shrieked, spiraling down, its prey slipping from its grasp.

Another arrow. Faster.

Two.

A second beast collapsed, wings folding as it tumbled toward the earth below, another already rushing toward her, and another. Each one fell, and yet they kept coming..

She was going to need more arrows.

 

[Filn Stenlager]

"Why you dastardly," a swing of his hammer, "ugly," another swing, "ravenous little hounds!"

Filn may not have been a warrior by trade, but he could certainly fit the bill. The monsters were hard pressed to get their way with him, and he proved valuable in guarding the helm. Flanked by a few of his dwarven comrades, and several Aerai, the upper decks remained quite clear.

Below, however, the gargoyles - desperate to keep the ship from arriving overhead of the fortress - began carrying up wingless Gwathui to drop onto the deck.

They also dropped some up into the rigging above. Many of them fell from great height, unable to find purchase and thus landing in a sprawl on the decks below. But they were resilient enough to survive, it seemed, needing only to shake off the shock before attacking.

This wasn't going well.

Filn looked up, "Isilya, look out!"

Somewhat frantically, he reached for the nearest crossbow, yanking it right out of the hands of a dwarf and then aiming it up into the rigging. He loosed the bolt without much thought or aim, and it flew truly into the head of the Gwathui that had been perched just overhead, preparing to launch itself at Isilya.

"Aha, take that you monstrous son of a- ARGH!"

The crossbow slid across the deck as one of the monsters lurched at Filn, crashing into him and sending him tumbling away. Thankfully, one of the Aerai nearby was quick to behead the monster, and kick its body overboard before it had even time to realize it had been slain.

---

Isilya ​

 

[Isilya]

Isilya had been so focused on the chaos below—nocking arrow after arrow and loosing them into the creatures clawing their way onto the ship—that she almost didn’t hear Filn’s warning. Almost.

She twisted just in time to see the Gwathui above her, its claws outstretched, its empty eyes locked onto her. She barely had time to react, but before it could lunge, Filn’s bolt struck true, sending the creature tumbling lifelessly into the rigging.

Isilya’s breath caught, but there was no time for gratitude. Another shriek rang out as one of the wingless creatures was dropped onto the deck below, and she saw Filn go down.

Shit.

She leapt down from her perch, landing in a crouch as she reached for another arrow. The air stank of blood and smoke, and the wind tore through the ship as it pitched from side to side. Somewhere below, the fortress loomed closer, but they wouldn’t reach it if the ship was overrun.

She loosed it into the throat of a winged creature flying straight for her.

"Filn!" she called, sparing him only the briefest glance as he recovered from his tumble, her foot shoving his crossbow across the blood-soaked deck to him. "Try not to die." she half smirked, but the possibility that neither of them would reach their intended destination was not lost on her.

And then she was moving again, dodging between Aerai and dwarves alike as she aimed for the creatures in the rigging. If they were going to make it to Arta Erë, they had to clear the skies.

 

[Filn Stenlager]

Damn elves... and I thought Erën had attitude...

With a wry smile on his face he clamped down on the crossbow she'd slid to him. Up to his feet, he roared out triumphantly only to realize he'd already loosed his loaded bolt, and having stolen the crossbow from another, he was without anything to reload it with.

A Gwathui loomed over him, dreadful and terrible, and Filn cried out as he whirled the crossbow around and drove it upward into the monster's jaw, slamming its head upward.

He stepped back, and the Gwathui composed itself with the shake of its head.

Filn threw the crossbow aside, "right then," he growled under his breath, lifting his fists, "if this is how you want ta' go."

Before the Gwathui could lunge, it too was skewered and dismembered... by the same damn elf as before.

"Damnit, just who do ya think you are!?"

"Lómin, sir!"

Filn puffed his chest a bit. Sir. At least the knife ear had some measure of respect. That was until he felt the elf's hand on his head, shoving him down like a wack-a-mole. Lómin proceeded to then cleave through the Gargoyle that had readied itself just behind the dwarf. Once the creature crumbled, Lómin stepped back and Filn popped up with no small display of frustration.

But when he spotted the peaks of Arta Erë's steeples in the distant dark, glimmering in the meager light, he grew still and then pointed.

"Ey! We're almost there, hold'em off!"

---

Isilya ​

 

[Isilya]

Isilya was a whirlwind of motion, arrows flying as she picked off monster after monster. Her bowstring sang with each pull, and her focus never wavered. Each bolt found its mark, sending creatures plummeting from the sky or crashing to the deck below.

She didn’t pause to consider the chaos around her. This was war. This was what it meant to fight. She had no choice but to move, to survive, to protect.

But then a sharp pain seared through her side. She stumbled back, a breath caught in her throat, as a Gwathui had gotten too close. Its talons had raked across her torso, tearing through her armor and leaving a long, searing wound. The shock of it took her breath away, and she gasped, biting down on her lip to stifle a cry.

Her vision blurred for a moment, the deck swaying beneath her feet as she fought to regain her balance. Blood dripped down her side, staining the fabric of her tunic, but she couldn't afford to let it stop her. She gritted her teeth, refusing to let the wound slow her.

"I’m fine," she muttered to herself, her voice tight as she readied another arrow. She could feel the pain, but it wasn’t enough to stop her yet.

The Gwathui was still too close, and before it could strike again, Isilya’s fury burned brighter than the sting of the wound. She gritted her teeth, her hand reaching for another arrow as her instincts took over. She didn't even pause to nock it, just drew it quickly from her quiver, feeling the familiar wood against her fingers.

With a fluid, almost desperate motion, she thrust the sharp tip into the creature's throat, her arm moving like a whip. The Gwathui let out a strangled screech, its dark blood spilling in a dark, sickening splash as it staggered back. It tried to swipe at her, but Isilya was already moving, her feet dancing across the deck as she shoved the creature away, wrenching the arrow free before nocking and shooting it straight into the beast's open mouth..

She took a shallow breath, ignoring the pain in her side.

"I'm fine," she muttered, her voice tight and strained as she drew another arrow, swiftly loosing it into another winged creature threatening to dive at her.

Ahead, the distant glimmer of Arta Erë’s spires finally came into view, like a flickering flame in the dark. She kept fighting, her arrows whatever she could. There was no time to falter now. They were too close, and she wouldn't let the darkness claim them now.

 

[Shrike]

A figure in plate armor - foolish on an airship - rushed for the prow. Features hidden behind a winged helm, he barreled into a demon, shouldering through slashing claws that squealed against enchanted steel as he vaulted toward the tip of the ship.

He had kept quiet nearly the whole ride. Giving only a name or grunts when the others sought to interact. Tyde.

They could call him Tyde.


He reached the prow amid the flapping wings and beheld the grim tide. Beneath the helmet, his teeth grit down hard.

Thrusting up a spear as if to pierce the heavens, he called down lightning from the nearby clouds, drawing crackling tendrils of coruscating blue to the leaf blade spear point, before releasing them in a spray that struck three nearby creatures in the air. Their wings seized up and with shrieks of rage and pain they fell, still smoldering, toward the ground so far below.

The ship drew closer to the fortress.

 

[Filn Stenlager]

Hammer back in hand, he swung it with a throaty grunt, displacing a monster's skull across the deck.

Lightning fell from the sky, rendering a number of their fliers as charred husks, falling to the ground below. He lifted his hammer high with a triumphant shout. The numbers of Gwathui diminished, as those that had been dropped on the deck were dispatched, and the remaining Gargoyles were held at bay by the elven archers.

"Well done, Tyde!" Filn shouted, hardly blind to the sudden change of pace his attack had brought about.

Turning to Isilya, the smile on his face faded, and so he started toward her, "are you alright?"

And so the ship sailed onward toward Arta Erë. There was still a scrambling on the deck as the marksmen held the Gargoyles at arms length, but for the most part things aboard had become much calmer. Or, at least, for the moment they had.

---

Isilya | Shrike​

 

[Isilya]

Isilya’s breath hitched as the first bolt of lightning struck. The raw power of it crackled through the air, illuminating the skies in searing blue light. It was both awe-inspiring, and a little unsettling.

Her grip on her bow tightened as her gaze snapped to Tyde, watching as the last smoldering bodies of the creatures he had struck tumbled lifelessly from the sky. He wielded the storm itself, as if it were merely an extension of his own will. That kind of power... it could turn the tide of battle, but it could also destroy everything in its path.

She swallowed, wary, but forced herself to nod in his direction. She would not let distrust cloud her judgment now.

Her voice was steady, though edged with caution. "Well fought." She quietly echoed Filn.

She let out a sharp breath, her hand pressing against the wound at her side, fingers coming away slick with blood. It stung like hell, but she’d had worse. Still, she couldn't afford to falter now—not when they were so close.

Filn's voice cut through the moment, drawing her focus. She blinked, realising he'd already started toward her, his usual bravado momentarily dimmed by concern.

"I'm fine," she said, though there was a tightness to her voice as she forced herself to straighten. "Just a scratch."

But even as she said it, she could feel the slow, warm seep of blood against her tunic. She exhaled sharply, shifting her weight onto her uninjured side, willing the pain into something distant, something she could ignore. It wasn't the first time she'd fought through an injury, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Her eyes flickered back to the battlefield above and below them, to the looming fortress growing larger in the distance. "No time to worry about it now," she added, her tone firm. "We're not done yet."

Still gripping her bow, she reached back into her quiver and nocked another arrow. The airship still rocked beneath her feet as they began their descent..