TriWar; Squad 1

[Torin Reahkari]

This thread will open at midnight May 30th.

[Torin Reahkari]

The morning air filled my lungs as I inhaled, pulling in the air of Ettermire as well. My eyes wandered around the city, looking at all the buildings, the people, the absolute fear in the air.

"Alright, men. This is, by far, the hardest battle we will have ever fought. Borna outnumbers us 5 to 1, but do not fear. Those who die on these grounds died in honour, protecting the thing they cherish most; Alerar's freedom. This is the sort of thing that makes boys men, and men legends. No matter the outcome of the battle today, even if I die on that battlefield, I will die surrounded by those I am proud to say are my brothers." I called out to my forces, Shadow walking back and forth in front of the men.

"This is our time of reckoning! Let us drive the Rangir to extinction, and prove to Valsharess we are not as worthless as she may believe!" I roared, concluding my speech.

"This is it.." I mused, looking ahead towards the Dark Palace. I could already see previous Kyorl members and the likes gathering to protect their leader...even after her exposed alliance with Borna and the Rangir, there was still loyalty.

"Wait. Stop." I called to Alia, who stopped our entire army with the raise of his hand. I could hear a faint rumbling, and looked to the north, watching as twelve men rode horseback over the hills. I could easily see Treze, and a wave of rage swept through me. And ahead of him, my brother..Borna, no doubt telling his soldiers the same tales of victory and freedom. Behind the two family members, his ten generals, leading the infantry and cavalry. Still farther than them, I could see the catapults, the archers..everything. He had thought of everything.

"We have to wait for the first strike." I mumbled, more to myself than anyone else.

"Where are the others?!" I thought, waiting patiently for Damon and the likes. Seth was already in position..it was just a matter of time.

My memories flew to the last two battles I had with the Rangir..the first of which where I met Damon, and Seth..and everyone I cared about, for the first time. A pang of sadness filled me as I realized how far I had fallen from everyone in my own selfish attempts to finish Borna. This wasn't fair to them. They had been there in my time of need, a few more than once, and I had never been there..for any of them.

"Once this is over..I will right all the wrongs." I promised myself, staring back south one last time, staring back at home. This was it. The end of all things for the great Pirate Prince, Torin Reahkari. If I won? My life of adventure and vigor would be over. If I lost, death.

A sigh escaped my lips as I looked to the east, watching the sun rise up. It really was beautiful. But beauty had nothing to do with today. It was a day of war, a day of battle. A dark time faced Alerar, and everyone would remember this day..and become immobilized in fear of it. Today was the dawn of the TriWar of Alerar.

[Dissinger]

Miles away from the estranged time walking pirate, Seth watched from the fields of Kuh'fein. His eyes were focused upon the crown jewel of Alerar, its shining capital city as he awaited the signal that would see him once again in battle. Ebony and Ivory were safely kept back in Etheria Port, and so because of it, he was relegated to spite and Malice.

He thought back to when he had signed up for the mission, bartering the safety of two daggers for his services. Many would have balked at such a deal, yet here he was. He didn't talk much to those around him, merely content to watch for the signal. There would be no arrogance, no pride, he wouldn't bombard the men with words of victory or threats of defeat. He simply didn't care anymore. What happened happened, and there was little that could be done otherwise.

He had heard that his group would be a rag tag band, and never before had a promise been so fully kept. A noble, which always put Seth on edge, and a girl he vaguely remembered from his brief tenure in Piston's Pleasure Palace. He merely let them go about, doing their own thing, figuring he would know when they were going too far. As he waited and watched the city he sighed.

So much had happened. Yet here he was, standing true to a word he had given almost two years ago. He remembered each successive fight, the first one that had Damon and Taviri, even the long lost ranger Koen. Then the second fight, the argument between him and Damon, the introduction of Zephyriah and Lorenor. All of it coming back as he remembered having to deal with the vampire himself. A shudder involuntarily crept up his spine as he merely waited.

Now, Zephyriah was still around, the bitter wounds to his pride not withstanding. He had defeated the Assassin but never truly felt satisfied. Yes, he had gotten the piece of Liliana's torn shirt back, but he always felt like the Dark Elf had soiled it beyond reclamation. However, that wasn't the bitterness he felt towards the elf, but rather himself. That, and the fact he didn't feel worthy to carry the piece of cloth anymore. It no longer rested around his wrist, and it stayed dutifully in his satchel.

As he waited he sighed as he said softly, "Well, let’s hope third times a charm..."

[Arawn]

A white-skinned being was among Seth’s secondary squad, his black cloak thrown back exposing his pale face and flawless skin. The dark elf was looking about him, breathing deeply from the air of the continent of his people. He looked upon the capital city some miles away. To its north, the gargantuan enemy army spanned a far larger area than the allied defending forces. They were well equipped for a siege, catapults and various foot soldiers assembled strategically throughout their ranks. In the city’s southern section, Torin’s forces lay waiting for the attack. Here, to Ettermire’s northwest, was the troupe charged with the responsibility of aiding Torin’s legion at the opportune moment. The battle was soon to commence and tension was palpable among most of the recruits. However, the cloaked drow was smiling, standing out from the majority of the crowd. He couldn’t help it. No matter how bleak their odds were, he had something to truly be proud of at the moment.

“Autonomy...”

It had been weeks since Hikari no Ashigaru had last given in to his vampiric bloodlust and he was feeling like his old self for the first time since his turning. He recalled enjoying confrontation so much, the rush of overcoming powerful adversaries making his blood rush. He had once reveled in the marvels of the Theater of War and relished the brutal conflicts in the Citadel. The remembrance of these things made him beam in spite of the bloodshed that would soon ensue. He had been unable to lead his own life, to remain cogent, for more than the span of a few days. Now he was able to join in a cause he chose for himself, the defense of the black city. Alerar was the only land of Althanas that had accepted the white warrior even before he made a name for himself as a prominent fighter. True, even some of the dark elves mocked their white-skinned brother, but they were in the minority in comparison to the humans of other regions. When Torin had summoned, Hikari answered.

“This is going to be a difficult battle,” the white warrior’s companion said with worry in his voice as he too surveyed the battlefield.

“That it will be, Argen,” he replied to the silver-haired human, seeming more enthused than discouraged.

“Will you be able to handle it?” the effectively disguised dragon inquired hesitantly as he looked over to his ally. “You know what aggressive conflict has done to you of late.”

“Don’t worry,” Hikari chuckled. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m in total control of myself right now. This will only solidify my grasp, I swear to you.”

The discussion was left at that, Argen returning his gaze to Ettermire. His garb consisted of leather clothing and nothing more. The unarmed dragon would transform to his true state once the first strike was made. He was not meant to participate directly, but cause mayhem among the enemy lines from the air. Hikari, on the other hand, was definitely going to be in the thick of things. His smile broadened as he tightened his grip on Jinkourai, his coveted black diamond falchion. Every breath he took seemed to fill him with a greater desire for the war’s instigation. His muscles tightened as they eagerly awaited the time for their use. Even the white warrior’s magic was bursting with anticipation, static electricity beginning to crackle about him. Soon, all hell would break loose. He intended to be a prime devil.

[Thoracis]

Far to the east, about a days march inland from the Tristlin Pass, one battle was already underway.

Thoracis had known all along that he wasn’t going to march into Alerar, from Raiaera especially, with any kind of force and go unnoticed. The war between the two nations was at a two year standstill and no peace agreements had even begun. That alone ensured border patrols that would hinder the progress of Thoracis’ fledgling army. What the wily old tactician had failed to count on was the size of those patrols and the number of Kyorl garrisoned in the region.

The journey through the pass had been mostly uneventful. A few skirmishes with mountain bandits and a single, late night encounter with a Kyorl patrol had left Thoracis’ forces with just five casualties and no deaths. What had been an easy going adventure for most of the troops took a dramatic turn for the worse once Aleranian soil was reached. Just a half hour out of the mountains the rear-guard was taken unaware by a small task force of roughly fifty Kyorl. Against superior forces they came and went quickly, inflicting all the damage possible before retreating back into the darkness. That night’s losses came to 37 casualties and 15 deaths, the first of the campaign. Even worse was the destruction of two of the supply wagons and nine horses. They were forced to leave a days worth of provisions behind. Even worse still was the fact that almost all the Kyorl survived. Now there was someone to report their presence.

The next morning brought low morale to the troops. They had lost the first of many of their comrades the night before. It was real now. Coupled with the smaller portions of food to be rationed the troops were becoming irritable already. One day into Alerar. They hadn’t even begun to experience hardship yet. Now they were in a forced march, in formation, on a heightened sense of alert. They made the perfect target for the attack Thoracis knew was coming. Near midday they came, seemingly from everywhere, hitting Thoracis’ forces under the heat of a noonday sun that was having a sluggish effect on the (what they thought to be) horribly underfed soldiers.

The main force was roughly 500 infantry, who came from the cover of a small woods to the north. Fortunately they were disorganized and out of rank. Thoracis quickly formed his men into three lines of one hundred and braced for the impact, his archers getting off two volleys before the Kyorl engaged. As the melee combat began the rear line shifted to the east with the troops on the far right shifting up and around to the left flank of the Kyorl and the latter forces bunching up at the angle created by the troops on the southeast end of the line. The cavalry, aided by Thoracis’ camouflage spell, wheeled around to the west and approached the Kyorl western flank. As the cavalry began their charge the troops bunched on the southeast formed a wedge and made a push straight into the Kyorl ranks, in an attempt to cut them in half diagonally. The maneuver was pulled off as well as Thoracis could have hoped from an untrained army but unfortunately the middle of the line was not able to hold and the enemy managed to penetrate the ranks.

For a moment it seemed as if Thoracis’ envelopment maneuver was going to work against him and the Kyorl were going to be able to spread out and double envelop him from the rear. Luckily, out of some twist of fate, the Kyorl never took the opening and instead held their ground, unwilling to give up any more ground to the cavalry on their western flank. Within a minute the gap in Thoracis’ line closed and the envelopment was complete as the wedge drove straight into the heart of the Kyorl and the cavalry pushed the larger group either into the pincers of the wedge or back into the forest. Within fifteen minutes the battlefield was silent and the combat was over.

The battle had took its toll however. Nearly 100 men had died, including 17 cavalrymen. Thoracis’ total forces were now cut to about 300 soldiers total and the march to Ettermire would be slowed. There would be enough food now to feed the men their normal rations, but a forced march would be impossible with the injuries and recovery that needed to take place. It was unlikely there would be another Kyorl attack as they passed through the Fields. That had to have been the bulk of their eastern forces and they had taken some heavy casualties as a result of the unseen cavalry charge, but now word of Thoracis’ coming was sure to reach Ettermire before he himself made it to the capital.

All he could do now was hope that he wouldn’t be too late.

[AsukaStrikes]

The unrelenting sun continued its reign as Asuka trudged about the ranks of Torin's forces under the command of Seth Dahlios. The soldiers here, not very well-armed as she thought they should be, looked too eager to enter battle than they should be. Casting her sights to the north, the red-hair maiden couldn't help but wonder if their defenses would be sufficient enough to hold out the seige long enough for Torin's forces to accomplish their mission, let alone driving back the evidently more numerous battlesquads posing on the horizon.

Her battle was to be with the opposing army, yet her mind kept wandering back to her own squad and the past they shared together.

Just as she had suspected upon the coincidental encounter at the Serpent, Seth Dahlios was indeed the Lavinian Thief she had met at the Lounge during the Serenti Invitational. Even though she had never fought the man before, his ranking within Torin's army was more than enough to convince he was far more capable in battle than he looked. His presence was also putting pressure on the young fighter as well. She had to look capable herself, able to fend off attacks from the opposing ranks as well as keeping the defenses of Ettermire in top shape. If any one of her squad was to give in, her duty as a soldier under Torin would be a failure.

Another familiar sight within the squad was the Prince of Myrusia, Raelyse Salidan, still a tiny dot within the vast expanse of the Fileds of Khu'Fein as he rode furiously through the grass. He was the leader of the Grander's Order, a very well-known power group intent on ruling Althanas with little hesitation in the use of brute force. The silver-hair prince had invited her to join the GO and, even though she was unsure as to his motive, decided to join in his rather large clan. It might not have been the best choice, but it was the best chance for her in finding Yamihara. A power group with such a wide-range of influence was sure to be of some use to her.

And yet a third familiar sight in this rag-tag bunch. Zerith Dracosius, halberdier extraordinaire. The lass remembered the first time she met this noble man quite well and still thnked him for the timely intervention. Had it not been for him, she would have ended as fish food in her very first battle in the Serenti Invitational. Subsequently, she continued on until the Semifinals while she left Zerith with defeat. It would be a fine day to fight alongside him instead of having to go at his throat.

However, the battle here might not be as she would like to remember. Arawn, the pale vampire whom she was supposed to fight in the second round of Serenti, was also present within the crowd. Asuka decided, however, to not pry her fingers into the matter for the time being. She had a bone to pick with him for standing her up, but he would have to be dealt with another time.

Torin's ragtag group of defensers was beginning to look like an old gathering of Serenti fighters, both whom she looked to in awe and despised to her bones. Asuka rubbed her arms nervously as she walked by a few of the old faces, glancing at Zephyriah warily before hurrying off to see her squad leader as he stood looking at the Dark Elf city of Ettermire.

"Hey, um," The red-hair maiden coughed once, trying to expel the last bit of nervous tension from her mind. The fight was about to begin and she had no need of any hesitation. "Seth. Just out of curiosity, but when is that army over yonder going to attack Ettermire? If it's going to be any time soon, our defenses might not hold long enough for Captain Torin to finish his task."

Asuka was never quite good with authority. The upbringing in her early childhood wasn't marked by harse threats from her teachers about not obeying and believing enerything that was told. She never listened to them anyways, finding the empty threats merely a ruse to get the "faithful" students to do their tasks for no real purpose. Her father had always told her that experience is the best teacher and even to this day she believed every single words of wisdom he gave her. They were evident enough not to rationalize an anti-thesis.

"We need a plan for our defenses, unless you already had it planned out. And we need it fast."

The Kyorl was surely well-prepared for a long seige whereas the defenders were poorly-trained and under-equipped. They needed a miracle to survive through such an onslaught, much less win one at all. Asuka, however, was more than happy to deal a few death-wishes to her enemies once the bloodbath begins.

[Falcon Darkflight]

Although the unseen enigmatic enemy, charting its course of conquest through the foothills that led to Ettermire where the forces of Captain Torin's forces lay in wait, compelled attention as nothing before in Canen's experience, his thin emerald eyes focused on the pathway and not on the distant horizon. He had marched the 25th Division of The Commodore's Guard from the fortress at Erebus the previous night, a company of around a hundred of his own personal soldiers, over the mountains that enclosed Ettermire and was satisfied he had made good time to meet his commander Raelyse. Most of the soldiers were on foot, marching in perfect time despite not having stopped for any kind of rest over the hours they had been traversing the rough terrain, and with Canen at the forefront also on foot they had felt inspired enough by the endurance of their commander not to raise a complaint. Clad in black, masked with balaclava like material and armed with an array of close combat weaponry, the 25th Division's first official assignment would ensure that people would remember the former Ghost Hand Partisans as the most fearsome fighting force this side of Alerar.

Canen remained quiet. His jet black hair bustled behind him in the early morning breeze and brushed gently against his face, allowing him one small moment of enjoyment of the dawn break. The Valiance remained by his side in a specially forged red ivory sheath, one he had specifically created for this encounter, and his Grander's Order scarlet battle robes trailed along the dusty gravel path in his wake. He seemed utterly focused on making it to the battlefield in Ettermire in enough time to prepare his soldiers for the battle, and was not open to any alternatives.

"How long to the field, Commodore?" Queried a Partisan, being careful not to create a tone in his voice that would show any sign of fatigue or weakness. He marched in perfect time with the front line of his small block of twenty five other identical soldiers, and remained in perfect posture even as he spoke. Canen didn't turn his head to speak, but uttered a simple command loud enough for his soldiers to hear. "We are five minutes away. Shoulder your arms."

As if the command had been a catalyst that had sparked a simultaneous reaction, each and every black clad Partisan of the 25th Division mounted their weapon of choice onto the front of their shoulders. The first twenty five carried pikes, the second twenty five carried phalanx shields and short swords and the remaining fifty men shouldered their trademark weapons: the Katana. It was a widely known 25th Division motto that futility was in the eye of the beholder, and that their fates were in their own hands until their day of death. With hope, anything and everything was possible, and with that single phrase lodged into the forefront of the minds of the Partisans, they edged ever closer to the field, awaiting their first command.

[Raelyse]

The road from the Grander's Order headquarters of Erebus to the Fields of Khu'Fein was an entirely familiar one for him, having embarked on this journey not too long ago. It was something that he would rather not remember, yet every tree that stood in the middle of a barren wasteland, every large rock, and every little thing only twisted his mind further into the last time he had traveled here. Even his normally smug composure had changed to one that seemed more angry. The prince of Myrusia, Raelyse Salidan could barely keep his mind focused on the task ahead and his lone companion on this brief journey had only succeeded in annoying him with his frequent quips.

Both were on horseback, though the one that the prince rode seemed to be much fitter and everything from the saddle to the horse shoes seemed to be that much more ornate than the one next to it. The obvious subordinate did not seem to mind though, his lanky frame highlighted by his clothing, as well as the charismatic smile that was literally plastered on his face. His name was Clement Whitestorm and the interesting biology that made up his body as well as his status as Raelyse's most trusted subordinate meant that he was the lone warrior selected for this special task.

The prince had chosen not to mobilize the forces of the Grander's Order for the simple reason that he knew of the casualties that they would face. He did not want to lose too many soldiers and knew that even though he had to do the despicable deed of operating under someone else's command, he could still avoid battle when the time came. He knew enough about wars to know how to stay alive in one.

"So, Raelyse, why me?" Clement said in a cheerful tone, breaking the five minutes silence in between this statement and his leader's last comment, a profanity targeted at his mother.

"I don't answer stupid questions, Clement," Raelyse said, this time snapping back so quickly that he nearly caused Clement to fall off his horse. Still a bit frustrated by the events that had transpired in the Fields not so long ago, the prince decided to whip his horse and increase the pace so he would get there earlier.

He could barely endure anymore of this.

[Bandit]

The cold wind ripped at Ziggy’s face, although the pain was numbed by the emotions that swelled up within the human. Tucked in behind the broad neck of his dragon, all Ziggy could do was wait until he arrived at the battle field where he had been called for battle. An old favor was being called in by a friend that Ziggy had not seen for what seemed like ages. The young rouge has fought along side Torin during his first campaign against the shadows. After missing the second confrontation, Ziggy promised his friend that when the time came he would have his weapon drawn along side his friend.

Closing in on the capital, Ziggy could see the masses below him. Torin was standing out in front of the squadrons. Giving a light kick to the torso of Brox, the red dragon began a silent descent until Zigurate was within hearing range of his ally. A war speech was common before any battle, and Ziggy had not expected anything less at this one. However, it no longer affected him as it had at one time. His enthusiasm was not heightened by the moral lifting words of a brave leader. He had seen far too much death during war to believe the speech’s any longer. The only thing he trusted was his friends, and the strength of his own skill. With or without a speech, blood would spill out onto the ground, and innocent lives would be lost among the masses.

Gripping Brox’s reigns, Ziggy gave a light pull, causing his dragon to begin to circle the army below him at a close range. He could see many faces that he knew personally, and those that he had only heard of. One of the faces that stood out to him more then any was that of Damon. A friend of Ziggy’s going back to his time with the Brotherhood. Seeing his long time friend ready for battle caused him to swell with the emotion of victory. Ziggy knew one man could not swing the outcome of a battle, but a general of Damon’s standards would definitely help swing the tides of war slightly.

After completing his second lap of the vast ally force, Ziggy was getting a feeling of the emotions running rampart on the ground. Many men and woman were scared out of their wits. They were afraid to charge at a soulless army, afraid to die and be left to rot on a battlefield after the winning side had left. He could sense anger and frustration among many others as they gripped their weapons until their knuckles turned to a creamy white. These would be the ones to charge forward, slashing in frenzy until they were surrounded, and struck down by the metal weapons of the enemy. Finally, there were those that were level headed. The men and woman who had been to war before, and knew the consequences of letting your emotions get out of check. These would be among the survivors who got to live and fight another day.

Taking in a cool breath of air, Ziggy gave Brox the signal to go in for a landing off to the side of the allied forces. As he touched down, the sound of the enemy force could be heard echoing off the ground, and through the air. Jumping off the back of Brox, Ziggy made his way through the ranks, until he was close enough to see Torin for the first time in years. He had changed greatly, instead of the kid he had known, Ziggy was now facing a man who was ready to finish what he had started years ago. Nodding to his long time friend, Ziggy smiled lightly, trying to relieve some of the pressure that the impending war was about to bring upon them.

“I came as soon as I heard of the battle. I owe you a good battle for the war I missed out on. You have both mine and Brox’s service for the upcoming battle.” Gripping the hilt at his side, Ziggy could feel the tension building in the air as the enemy army continued to march forward. The minutes before the battle were always the worst. He could hear murmurs of doubt within the army, which would soon vanish once the actual battle began. Ready to fight to the death, Ziggy gritted his teeth as sweat already began to bead on his brow. Either way one army was going to be defeated. However, Ziggy was not willing to give up before the battle started. Somehow they would prevail, or every last breath would leave their lungs before they gave up. The calm before the storm was about to end, and a hurricane of death and destruction would soon descend upon the battle field.

[Zerith]

“What the hell are we doing here? We’re all going to die today I know it. We’re outnumbered 5 to 1 so they’ll just overwhelm us before we really get to fight back.”

That’s what one soldier was whispering to the man beside him. The two stood straight and tall, perfect for where they were in their ranks of Torin’s forces. Neither one of them dared to speak any louder, just in case their leader would hear of it. Besides, chances were that they weren’t the only other soldiers that doubted their chances of survival. All of them wanted the same thing, they wanted to see their families. But the reality was some of them wouldn’t and that though alone was terrifying.

“If you ask me,” the soldier continued. “I think Torin has gone insane. The idea of going up against this army is crazy enough”.

“That’s enough!” a voice demanded. The two men jumped when they realized someone had heard them. Not only that though, but this person was approaching them.

It was Zerith, the young halberdier who was sent to aid Torin’s cause. To the mercenary though, it was more than just an assignment. To him it was like déjà vu, the improbability of success and the nervousness of the upcoming battle were familiar. But that happened quite some time ago, back in Scara Brae. Still, there were some things about war that never changed. Things like the fear one would feel when they were lost in the chaos and the people who doubting their chances of survival.

“I’m only going to tell you this once, alright?” Zerith said to the two. “If you doubt, you’re dead. It’s plain and simple. Just focus on making it through this and look to those who are leading you. If you do that you’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t think you’re children will want to hear stories of how their daddy’s were too scared to fight to protect them. So just be sure to give them one hell of a story when you see them after this.”

The soldiers smiled a little as Zerith left them. The young fighter was sent here by the Grander’s Order, along with a few other members including the Grander himself. So he did exactly that and came here on his own, with halberd in hand. Sure, he didn’t have his own group of soldiers, like the Commodore. But that was probably because of his rank. He was new, this being his first official assignment. Zerith preferred to see it more of a stepping stone though, an opportunity to let the Grander see what he was capable off.

Hopefully he’d get the chance to as well. But that depended on what Seth Dahlios’ plan was. Zerith had never met the man until now, but he figured somehow this Seth and Sarah were related. He knew Sarah, she led him on the mission that got him involved in the GO. But he hadn’t seen her since then and didn’t know when he would, if ever. Who knew, for all he knew she could’ve been sent here as well.

There was one person he did know here. Asuka Murakama, the red-haired swordmaiden. The two met on the beach on a rather hot day during the first round of the Serenti. By the end of the duel however, the halberdier ended up risking his life to save hers. Although Zerith was declared the loser, he was pleased to hear that Asuka ended up becoming a Semi-Finalist. She’d probably tell him that herself and give her thanks again, probably saying something like she wouldn’t have made it that far if it wasn’t for him.

Considering how it seemed like everything was in order, Zerith joined Seth and his comrades to see what the plan was. Although it didn’t seem like everyone had arrived yet. Who was missing? Torin was there, as was Asuka and Seth. It wasn’t until he looked out into the distance that he finally realized who still had to arrive.

“Well hopefully he gets here in time,” Zerith thought, “I want him to see my potential. It’s only a matter of time until I begin to rise up through the ranks. Then someday, I’ll get to lead my own army.”

[Lucifer Blight]

Damn. Would you look at that? I knew the odds would be bad, but this is just plain stupid. Lucifer thought to himself as he lazily stood amidst a group of soldiers. When it came to war, there were literally hundreds of variables that needed to be taken into account when it came to successful planning. One of those variables was quantity. No matter what anyone says about well-trained troops, having a lot of men to throw at the enemy was always a nice thing to have. In this particular case, it seemed like the enemy had an ample amount of men to throw at Torin’s forces. In fact, Lucifer wagered that the enemy could waste half of their manpower and still outnumber this ragtag group of wanna-be heroes.

“Why did I go and get myself mixed up in this stupid war? It’s not like I give a damn about who rules this pitiful land. Why didn’t I stay at home?” Lucifer asked himself in a soft voice, even though he knew the answer. Unlike most of his comrades, Lucifer had no such illusions about fighting the good fight or wanting to help the land. Lucifer had simply joined this war so that he could escape his home as well as his over-bearing adopted father. At least, Lucifer wanted to escape the man for now. After he had grown in skill, the young prince wanted nothing more than to return home and claim his rightful place as king, hopefully by spilling the current king’s blood. But, in order to achieve such grand dreams, Lucifer knew he needed to become skilled in the art of war. Very skilled.

So that was why an angry young prince stood amidst a group of common soldiers as their leader preached on about brining victory home and making boys into legends. Or at least it was something to that affect. If he had to be honest, Lucifer was far more focused on the massive army in front of him rather than Torin’s speech. But, on the bright side, the soldiers listening to Torin sure seemed to appreciate the man’s words. It must have been comforting to know that if a man died here he would be remembered as a legend. Lucifer, however, had no such ambitions. He had every intention of surviving this battle and not leave his name as a small footnote in history. The prince had much grander plans in store, and falling here was not part of his schemes.

Hence, the mission of the day was a simple one. All the underdog army (which was sadly the one Lucifer had joined) had to do was beat back the scum that stood before them, hopefully crushing the opposing army into dust as well as killing their leader. Well, Lucifer assumed it would be best to kill the leader. After all, as the old saying goes, cut off the head and the body may flail about but it won’t really accomplish much. It may have been a simple mission, but it probably wouldn’t be an easy one. Most of the people around Lucifer seemed to be scared to death. Pitiful. If they came all this way just to sit here and wet their pants, they should have just stayed at home.

Lucifer ran a hand through his dark black hair as he impatiently tapped his foot against the hard ground at his feet. It was always an interesting experience when two armies faced off against each other. Sooner or later, one army had to break and charge the other. Hopefully, whoever was in charge on this side had a plethora of foolproof tricks up their sleeve, all ready to be used to sweep the battlefield clean of the foes that stood only several feet away from the front line.

Eagerly Lucifer felt his right hand grip the hilt of the sword strapped to his side. No matter what happened, one thing was certain. Today was going to be a very bloody day. People were going to die, wives were going to become widows and children were going to become orphans. Such things were the grim truth of war, even though the minstrels usually left such dreary thoughts out of their poems and songs. No one ever wanted to hear about the poor bastard who died screaming for his mother as his foe’s sword reduced him to a puddle of blood and flesh. But by the end of this day, such a thing would be commonplace.

Lucifer wished the people in charge would hurry up and start the war.

[Torin Reahkari]

So many had come back, and so many had joined. The Alerian Resistance stood stronger than ever.

I looked around, into the faces of many, realizing that we could defeat the Rangir if we worked together.

"This is it! Wait for the first strike!" I called to Alia, who signalled the archers to remain at ready, two thirds of our infantry ready behind them. 700 men stood ready to offer their lives to Alerar to make sure it remained free of Borna Venar.

Suddenly, a volley of arrows flew into the sky, and I could see the smirk on Borna's face from where I sat on Shadow.

"Shields!" I cried, watching a few arrows bounce off a protective bubble Alia had placed around myself, him, Praenua, and the other generals that rode with us. The rest of our own were not so lucky. Most survived, but at least ten archers and five infantry men fell to the first volley.

"Line One! Strike!" I roared, pointing Tanzalis at the Rangir. Our own arrows flew in their direction.

"Catapult!" a red flare flew up from Alia and almost insantly a flaming oil-doused rock flew towards the Rangir with incredible speed.

"ATTACK!!!" I screamed, whipping Shadow with his reigns, sending him racing into battle. Ahead of me, I could see Borna and Treze lining up, ready for my single attack.

"Alia, signal Seth, NOW!" I called back, a faint smile flickering across my face, but it disappeared as I rode closer and closer to my destiny, to my fight, to my war. And what a war it would be. I could hear the screaming sound of Alia's magic flares flying off behind me, and as I looked skyward for a moment, my heart leapt. The signature of the Resistance was in the sky, the signal for the second squad to attack. It was beautiful. For a few moments I forgot where I was, who I was, why I was there. Everything was solemn, and silent.

And then the sound blew my ears apart from the inside, an arrow embedding itself in my right shoulder. I pulled it out with impatience and pain, striking down a lone human warrior of the Rangir, and riding towards my target, my brother, my trophy, Borna Venar.