Of Shadows And Dust (Task Vs. Cydnar)

[Cydnar]

Cydner dove into the melee as the small rabble of undead collided with the outer ring of mages. Like lightning bound in humanoid form he wove a pattern of destruction through the necrotic flesh and rallied the swordsmen who ploughed in behind him to arms.

"Defend Manira!"

---

The Ice Mage saw her love through the circle of spell casters that had surrounded her as their battle lines were pressed. She felt exasperated and waylaid by her condition, and even the power that coursed through her veins could not sedate her anxiety. With a heartfelt connection to her kin, she looked skywards and started to cry.

---

Beneath the marshes, the awaiting ambush floated through the dark waters in silence. Each of the nimble and water bound assassins dwelt on the coming confrontation as shadows moved over head, murky portents of the evil fiends that came to steal their world away. They had to wait for the signal.

---

It did not take long for the cadre of ghouls to be cloven from the world, and Cydnar stood amidst a swarm of bodies, bloodied and bruised and chest pounding with fire. He looked about frantically for Manira and caught sight of her at the centre of the mage's circle. It did not take long for him to work out what she was doing, and fear took over.

"Manira!" He roared, running to her side. The silent guardians stepped from his path, hoods pulled low over their faces to hide their shame. "Do not do this!"

The blue mage cast the man she had loved and would have no chance to show that love to with a tearful visage. A single tear rolled from her nose and fell to the ground, freezing as it descended. The power within was unleashed by the revelation, and she flung her head back and dissipated in a vast blue column of power that surged upwards into the night sky like a radiant beacon.

It solidified and formed an ice pillar almost three hundred feet tall and immeasurably strong.

Cydnar took several steps back, tripping over a limb and falling to his backside. He cried, but saw that her sacrifice had called the wrath of the Salthias to his command.

---

The sound of several hundred hooves thundered out across the plains as the cavalry battallion swept out from their position and ploughed onto the road. As the undead horde veered off into the swamp, they marched straight into the rear of the army with it's back turned and it's momentum stalled.

Lances, swords and shields levelled down and keen eyes shot spells of lightning and malice through the night sky.

---

The rush of magic through the dark brought the hidden seekers in the marsh to life, and all at once several hundred spheres of crystal rose up ominously and silently from the cold and murky waters - the earth itself turning aside for it's masters. Hell broke lose in the midst of the Death Lord's forces, and swordsmen quicker than wind and more skilled than legacies carves swathes through the harrowing corpses.

---

In the shrill silence of the magic filled glade, Cydnar wiped the last tear from his eyes and stood with a bleak expression on his face. His twin swords were held loosely at his side and his purple garb was wet with blood foul and tainted. He looked to the mages and his personal guard and nodded.

"What is done cannot be dwelt upon here, now, or tomorrow."

A gust of wind swept through the clearing, and silence purveyed a sense of regret for a moment. On the road behind them the sound of swords and screams brought the battle back to the Salthias's attention. He turned to watch the battle-line reform in the distance.

The pillar would have unleashed the marsh trap, and the cavalry could be heard rumbling along the road even from the woods.

"Gather your spells, shields and swords. Our plan has worked perfectly." He smiled with a wry satisfaction, and felt sacrifice pang regret through his words. He stepped forwards and skipped into a run, hopping over corpse and log without a thought.

Out from the trees the last gasp of the Hummel charged, swordsman and knights rumbling towards the exposed flank of the turning horde. The magic of the mages in Marina's court blasted the tree debris to one side in a flurry of sparks, fire and arcane radix, and the battle was rejoined on all three fronts.

The crystal tower loomed overhead, watching the shadows, waiting for the daemon to dare step into it's world. At it's heart, Manira's corpse was frozen into eternity, a single tear on her cheek as hard as diamond, and a fire burning in her heart for passion lost.

Summary:

1. Cavalry approach the rear end of the army along the road.

2. Remnants of the mages and Cydnar's unit charge the flank at the part where it is turning to walk into the marshes.

3. The head of the army, swarming all around it's command and the summoners is surprised by 200 expediently trained blade dancers, assassins and geomancers, whose aim is to assassinate the summoners at all cost.

[Taskmienster]

Fleet of foot, dancing instead of fighting, the mock-elves standing against the congregation of the undead and willing to die were cowards. The charging Virulent and untouched were gaining ground, pressing their offense against the fearful mages on the hill. Instead of standing and fighting they rushed away from the coming storm. Men, elves, and allied forces of volunteered humanity to the will of Xem’Zund turned with the mages and gave chase. Hounds, foaming at the mouth and overtaken with the thrill of the hunt, they turned and followed as they attempted to bite the heels of the fleeing foxes. Hope was lost, or so the twenty virulent thought, when the mages clashed with the flank of their master. The vice would be sealed, assaulted from all sides they would have no choice but to be carved into bloody pieces and scattered on the waiting soil like a prepared feast for the ghouls.

Even as the entire world erupted in a flash of bitter sweet death and magic, Frirak was forced to accept that things were not as they appeared. Before him were the marshes, protection and impediment for his troops as well as those of the ambushing militia. Sweeping down the side of the hill to his left flank were the mages that he had attempted to remove as a threat, direct their attention at the charging living creatures of his army. Undead were monsters, abominations, those who willingly followed the Forgotten were little more than ants and easily ignored. On his other side was a mounted militia of armor, shields, and lances bearing down quickly upon him. Instead of gaining an advantage, he had rushed into a murky grave. The warlord was left with no option.

“Rear, to the left flank. Put yourselves between us and the mages.” Instantly the thought was dispersed to the ghouls protecting the rear. They shifted nearly as one, rushing towards the mages that threatened to tear a hole through their outer wall. Three massive figures, each the size of four of the undead cannibals, turned with the left flank and the rear guard. Blackened blades as long as an elf’s body and mauls as large as a man’s arm and just as heavy were brought up menacingly, they surged towards the descending cowards with a bloodlust twisting their thoughts. “If you do not keep those mage’s from getting to me, I swear by our gods that you better be dead.”

Frirak immediately ignored the insultingly shallow magic users and turned towards the other two threats that had come to bear. His undead bladesingers were slinging sword and warped magic at the rising crystalline cages that surfaced. A clash of near equals, the quick warriors that had waited to ambush the undead army were slinging spells and dancing death. Against them the blood-stained warriors of Raiaera’s fallen were returning spells and catching weapons with their own swords, undertones of disharmonic and deep words rumbled. Despite having been changed by Xem’Zund, the bardic nature of the region’s most feared warriors had not been removed but simply changed into something more useful.

“Virulent charging down the hill. Launch the empty throne at the charging cavalry as soon as they are slowed after they hit the right flank. Catapult it as closely as you can to the center. I will do the rest as soon as it passes over.” Frirak’s final plan was coming too soon, but it was a chance he was forced to take. All around him the desecrated dead were falling and returning blows far too slowly. Necromancers threw bolts of black energy, virulent sent walls of stone and froze blocks of ice, and bladesingers spun and twirled as much as they were allowed in the fitfully thick ooze. Destroying the knightly cavalry would diminish a threat, focus restored to the hundreds popping up in the mire with the bubbles of methane.

Your post was really confusing, but I tried to figure out what was going on and respond correctly. Just tell me if it needs to be edited.