Tale of the Sword: Endless war part 1

[Yggdrasil]

((SOLO: set at a random point in time and has no influence on althanas))

It sat and watched the world go by, hovering in it’s little spot on the shelve next to that other innocent looking crystal ball and that old looking book, in the shop window of a modest shop named the ‘mages emporium’ of some town or city. It watched the world outside from it’s small spot on the shelf, from darkest nights, to the brightest of days, from the coming dawn to the going twilight, forever watching, learning, and forever calculating.

Yes one could point and say it was a rather eye-catching item, some had stopped by to window shop and eyes would fall upon it, and there bottom lips were always bit, in consideration of purchasing it, but it was never so, not with that hefty looking price tag.

The item in question was of a unique sort, a metamorphic item, abilities that the shop owner did not know about, as he always handled the sphere with caution, moved with a trick of telekinesis and cautious hands that never got too close, maybe the old man knew something, or maybe he didn’t

The items metamorphic ability was one thing, it was quite another when within it’s glowing sphere and pulsing veins and wisps of unknown lettering just below it’s surface lay something that no item should ever possess.

It was that which was watching the world go by, a formless entity, a will, perhaps a soul but that would be pushing the limits to describe what it was, and quite simply it was what it is. Had it a form, it would have been sitting on that shelf with legs and arms crossed and eyes closed in silent contemplation. That was if it did have a form, which quite honestly it found lacking.

The item in question had a name, not a well known name, or even a name that all would recognise instantly, if at all, perhaps because it nearly never gave it’s name to people, such a sacred thing it’s name was, in honesty, it’s name was the only thing of worth it could give to others.

And at the same time it was so much more than it’s name “Yggdrasil” just what is Yggdrasil, what does it do, where does it come from, perhaps the only sentient creature on this planet that would know all the details would be the item itself.

Shrouded in mystery and silent as a calm wind, on it’s own all it could do was sit a watch, sit and watch and learn, and calculate, plot, scheme and ultimately plan ahead, for what who knew. Not even the item itself knew all of its capabilities, even its own codes were a mystery to it, and that was perhaps what brought it life.

Well as much alive as a glowing/floating pretty looking sphere could ever be alive

Alone it was nothing, just another seamless item like those that currently surround it, perhaps there was an item or two here that would be interesting, or specially enchanted this way or that, but either way, and even if it did watch the world flow by, it was only a mild interest, and everything soon became boring once again.

But in the hands of a wielder, a sword, a Hjor, it’s sword, it was a whole different game, quite commonly used as a weapon, a sword of it’s own, was it’s most frequent form it took, a quick and easy symbol to show what it’s purpose was for, quite simply

War

But a weapon was not it’s only form, armour was another, often taking the form of a bracer, a helmet, a chest plate, wings or tail it became a shield, to protect, and defend it’s sword with all of it’s might. Such an interesting little item, but with so little answers of who, when how or why, that’s all it could ever be, an item to be used.

The term origin to Yggdrasil was such a fickle concept, there are plenty of myths surrounding it that spoke of it’s origin, mostly they had been periods of time when it’s presence had resurfaced, alternating between sleeping for hundreds of years only to be found and brought to war.

Compared to those times, watching the world go by from its small corner of the world was a paradise.

One of those ‘Origins?

<<<>>>

Possibly a few thousand years ago in a distant land

Dust and rock and dirt flew and scattered, followed quickly by silence, it was quite a unique sensation, like a spectator to everything that’s going on around you, he watched as a man, heavily armoured in white and blue armour swung his sword left and right, clashing with the man in the dark red and brown lighter armour who also carried a similar non descript sword.

The one with the red armour won the clash, after pushing away the others sword, he slashed once against the thin protected torso and with a solid flick of his sword was now running other through his gut. The one in white and blue fell while the other celebrated in victory, short lived as it was that the same victor was cut down, by a strong blow across his back felling him.

Eyes blinked and quite suddenly he wasn’t quite the spectator to a silent brutal battle anymore, he was now there and screams clashes and war cries flowed around him like a terrible melody. Briefly he toyed with the idea that he had awoken to a nightmare, until the one in white and blue, the newcomer stomped towards him, sword at the ready.

His hand felt the ground around him, minding the large burning embers that had crashed a little too close to him, the very thing that had knocked him senseless for a small period of time, and regrettable he was quickly remembering why he was here.

He was here because he was a soldier, he was here because like other soldiers he followed the commands of his superior officers, he was here because he had a battle to win and a war to claim victory too, he was here to god damn add his own tune to that freaking melody!

His hand grasped hilt, bringing it before him to stop a blade from falling on him, he pushed it aside and kicked out for the knights leg, satisfied when he saw him drop to one knee. He raised his sword for a killing blow, but it never met its intended target as his opponents sword once again proved to be in the way.

He kicked again, this time in the chest, knocking the man backwards, with a valiant cry he jumped to his feet once again ready to bring a second killing blow, but this time it was him, he who felt his legs give way, his weight and balance betray him and he met the lovely dark stained grass once again.

Aiesear screamed, but he quickly rolled onto his back fleeing from the maelstrom of attacks his opponent was swinging at him, blind rage, the sword came close once or twice, but it was kept away.

Aiesear screamed a second time, but it was not out of fear, this time he grit his teeth and through himself onto his feet, swinging his sword for all of his might, he deflected his opponent sword, causing him to stagger and loosen his grip. Aiesear followed the attack through, with a spin to raise his sword he struck into the man’s exposed flesh, cutting jugular vein before getting lodged in the mans neck bone.

Aiesear pulled the sword back and bit his bottom lip as he watched the blood run down his sword, drops of crimson life trying to escape the harsh steel of his sword, half heartedly and weary he looked up, almost flinching as he looked on.

The battle, no this war, was far from over, and as far as he could see, possible miles upon miles he saw, Blue, Red, white and brown, he saw war in all of it’s fashion, and one colour stood out from all the others, Crimson red strained the once green grasslands of the filch plains, and there was a whole lot more to come.

“I need a bigger sword” he complained only to himself before stepping forth for his next opponent, and sure enough he caught sight to his left, a soldier in blue and White stalking towards him as if to oblige him.

“YOU defiantly need a bigger sword” Aiesear scoffed before charging forwards, his sword once again ready.

[Yggdrasil]

Romulus Craton Looked out over the fields and frowned, from his vantage point from on top of the small cliff face that looked over the battlefield he decidedly couldn’t tell who was winning, the constant clashing of colour and emblems on flags were cut down and replaced by each other almost immediately.

A man of 35 uncombed windswept hairs and an unkempt long beard flowed down his armour like rough nettles; he bore the Red and Brown colour scheme of his fellow soldiers so as not to be confused with the Jionian Union. Piercing green eyes tore from the field to the commanders tent behind him, the place where there own prince and commanders were currently pooling over a table, with little figurines acting as armies to help reconstruct everything that was currently going on.

Just like a complex game of chess

The Jionian union vs. the Grandolian kingdom

A war fought over land, trades, politics, assassinations, insults and petty jealousy, it had all the makings of a crusade against each other, and reasons were lost for the simple act that it was war and it needed to be won.

Simply put. You, I kill.

Romulus noted one of the runners quickly returned, intrigued and wanting to know who exactly was winning the proud man strode prideful towards the commanders tent, mindful of the constant chattering of voices, commands being issued, other runners heading out to relay such orders.

“The western contingent is suffering heavy casualties, however they are still holding ground and are giving as good as they get, they are confident that they can hold out for a while longer yet” the runner said, or choked out between deep breaths, and swigs of water and bitten chunks of bread.

Tiradon gazto, another of the Grandolian Finest commanders, and leader of the 52nd platoon of the finest dragoon riders this side of ki-marnocks grand lake. Tiradon was a much larger man, but shorter of height, only 5’3 he swung a battle hammer like no one’s business and greying red hair showed signs of his age and wisdom.

War and battle spurned characters such as this, fighting a war they had grown up into, a war that was constantly fought, and is still fought even now a few miles from the fields of combat.

Another runner came flying in, nearly falling to his feet in exhaustion, but he brought good news “The king has declared Victory” he wheezed out and each man in the room turned to him, silent in appreciation and awe to the news he just delivered.

He gasped for breath once again “The king, The eastern plains of Trisong have been captured, the enemy has fallen back and are now marching for here” he gasped out, and suddenly the air within the tent became tense, so tense that Romulus could have sworn he saw the dead ghost of his ancestor come to him and prey for his fate.

“Where?”

The prince choked out, a young boy at best, hardly knowledgeable, his presence on this battlefield was for the moment to watch and learn, to gain experience by living this battle out by living it, much the same way his father and grandfather before him had done in ages past.

Romulus knew the boy would grow to become a good king one day, no he would be a great king, there was no question about it, he would fight alongside his soldiers if he had too, the only reason he wasn’t was because both Romulus and Tiradon were scared of loosing sight of the boy in the chaos of the battlefield.

“There going to hit our Eastern forces, enemy numbers into Ten thousand!” the runner said and once again Romulus said hello to his ancestor

“But, our eastern flank is only 8,000 strong, and they are already fighting an equal force” the prince ground out with gritted teeth and Romulus found himself to be nodding in agreement.

“What’s worse is that our Western Division is barely holding out, we can’t exactly split our forces at a time like this” he ground out and turned to Tiradon who had his usual blood thirsty grin on his lips. With a playful stretch and a crack of his old bones the man started to stroll towards the exit.

“I think I hear my dear old mistress calling me, I think it’s about time we go for a little run” the old coot said giggling and Romulus did scoff, Tiradon ‘MISTRISS’ as it was, was his own god damn horse named after his lovely late wife, the man had placed all of the woman previous affection on to his horse who he now trained and bred to the best of his ability.

Sad, but as long as he wasn’t running off to marry the damn thing the less Romulus cared about.

“Sir Romulus, I know I ask much, but since Sir Tiradon is acting on behalf of the Eastern Flank, perhaps you could aid the western?” the prince asked in a subdued tone, like his was appealing to the mans soul rather than his honour, Romulus smile was genuine and his desire to wield ‘Ol’ yeller’ was rising once again.

“Gladly”

<<<>>>

“Ayah!”

Strangely Aiesear found that particular war cry to be oddly enchanting and a rather beautiful sound, perhaps the only thing that ruined the effect was the sound of armour torn, dented, crushed along with flesh and bone alike, and in the distance he saw a soldier in the same Red and Brown uniform as his own crash to the ground in a crumpled heap.

He quickly dealt a killing blow to his new opponent, a rough five since those enemy catapults gave him a present that had been a little too close for comfort. He timed his breaths and winced as he went to back up a few steps, in his previous clash a part of his right pouldren plates had took a nasty blow, oh he wasn’t hurt, maybe a scratch and a bruise that would bug him for a time, the piece of steel armour had really held up.

No what was bugging him was the rather nasty spike of metal that was digging into his shoulder, cutting into his flesh; he wasted no time in almost ripping the loose thing off his. A little freedom at best and one quick glance around him to make sure no one was sneaking up on him, a hard thing to do with enemies and allies fighting alongside each other but still, it helped to be aware of exactly who was around you.

For example, he stepped back swiftly and a sword graced the air with its presence not a moment later, the wielder was thrown off balance and Aiesear brought his sword down heavily and once again he heard that odd sound

Almost like nails on a chalk bored, but that had never bothered him, actually a fork scratching a plate really went through him.

He sought his next opponent,

And really wished he had taken a left after his last opponent than a right

His eyes locked with his opponent, and unfortunately looking right back at him was the Red phoenix, which lucky for him was a name only, and at the same time it made rather little difference. While this war had spawned off many great generals and kings who had scored either absolute victory, or strategic defeats, they belonged not to the Grandolian kingdom alone.

In fact quite a number of them were born and bread in Jionian union

One of them, the ‘Red Phoenix’ was named after there rather bright coppery, almost glowing red hair. The duchess of the Northern Mountains Jhety, was from a tribe of what could only be called warriors, tight nit pack of wolves in there own right, strong brutal, determined and almost resistant to pain. They hold honour above all else and have been known to release there captured opponents free so that they may one day fight them again, after all, if you were captured it was because you survived, and if you survived you damn well deserved to live.

The Red Phoenix held her spear up high and with a might swing she knocked over three men of the Grandolian empire, her armour clanked as she once again stood in a ready stance her eyes boring into his behind his visor.

Aiesear looked left and right taking note of the no more than 50 Jhety warriors, “Makelions” Mack-el-ions, once they were called lion humpers, quite literally none survived except the sober bartender to tell the tale.

Aiesear was sure about one thing when she took a single step forward

He was already dead

((post 2 up already? wow umm note, i don't actually think my character may appear for a bit))

[Yggdrasil]

“Duck low, DUCK LOW!”

Came the scream of a soldier briefly before a spear was introduced to the side of his face, it was both ironic and frightening, Aiesear feared that the next swing of the oversized stupidly powerful spear would rip the soul from his very body. So each chance he got between fleeing the Red Phoenix duchess of Makelions and engaging in rather close combat with the regular sort of opponent was a rather blurry event.

He felt he was doing rather well

Actually no, if he was doing well he would be living on a farm making a living rather than being here fighting in such a large scale battle, truly the fight for the eastern flank had been lasting for a few weeks now, neither side gaining much ground. But right now Aiesear wanted to give nothing but ground. At least until he stole an arrow riddled shield from a dead corpse and hefted it onto his arm.

Not a moment to soon either as he quickly found himself blocking the rather powerful Red Phoenix, which wasn’t good, he was her opponent now and there was no escape beyond a miracle.

His plan was all defence, he didn’t even want to risk his shield shattering under those powerful blows of that shield, and it was plain suicide to engage into close combat against the Red Phoenix herself. And should he somehow slay her, then he would have to deal with about 50 other Makelions who would find it a great honour to kill the killer of there leader.

Like the fuck that was going to happen

Aiesear saw to his left three of his allies, no bunk mates rush to his aid and quickly surrounded the duchess, with new found ‘false’ courage they attacked from all four sides but the Woman they sought to kill became a monster, or rather a whirlwind of movement, her spear both striking, deflecting parrying, sweeping and general poke and stabby action all at once, it was beautiful.

And at the same time Aiesear found himself now without a helmet, it had been blown off when the blunt of that spear hit him flat in the chest sending him flying into the crowds, shortly after he had witnessed his friends and allies cut down or simply knocked out, he wasn’t sure of there fate, heck he wasn’t even sure of his own fate.

He felt like he had before, the world became like a dream and once again he became a witness and a spectator to all around him, he even watched as the woman dressed in heavy armour walked up to him almost casually, as if there wasn’t a spectacular and bloody war raging around them, as if the ground wasn’t littered with countless fallen warriors.

The woman quite literally sneered at him and he was surprised to find the world become strangely clear to him, oh sure the sound was muffled and the fighting was a blur, but she stood there clear as a day in a forest watching the new rain fall from the leaves and a tiny caterpillar fed happily ignorant on a leaf.

It was almost like the build up to a miracle

Which was quite effectively shot down when the head of her spear broke through bone and armour, tearing through flesh, ever so slowly, well in his point of view it was like a slow moving needle, to her it was a swift killing blow into the mans chest.

Surely this would be the time a rather divine being should step up now to reverse his now one way fate?

Nah.

<<<>>>

Romulus Swung his hammer like a man possessed, opponent after opponent fell like a set of dominos, corpses crashing into fresh shoulders knocking them over for easy prey for his 22nd division of heavy knights. Heavy indeed, they wore armour heavy enough and shields tall and broad enough to actually be walls of steel. Armed with bastard swords in one hand and shields in the other they had earned there title of the steel titans easily.

Ol’ Yeller was a well crafted hammer, delicate shapes and twists, a rather blunt surface with sharp corners; alone it could crush a man’s skull simple enough, shatter bones turning them into powder. With it’s enchantment it really did send people flying, forcing anyone hit to loose there connection to gravity, along with a shockwave on impact made every war like a baseball game.

Right now he wasn’t thinking, just acting on instinct and hard earned gut instincts, so when he came across the fabled ‘Red Phoenix’ he didn’t think twice about attacking, his hammer swung and her spear parried it5 and so battle was joined, two great generals within the centre of a battlefield, the Makelions clashing against steel titans.

From his Vantage point within the commander’s tent, the Prince studied the little figurines of blue and red, strategy and tactics had long since been forgotten and was now just a struggle for ground, units were too locked up on either side now for any movement to be established, and even if it was, it was quickly engaged by the enemy.

Truly he wasn’t sure what to do or too accomplish, the battle had started of with two excellent movements and strategies on either side, there tactic that surrounded and cut off there first wave, or the kingdoms tactic to launch a surprise attack against there supplies, which although was effective for a short time, there sheer size was like a juggernaught. His advantage was the cliff faces they were on, earlier on there arches had taken out large portions of the attacking force, catapults had returned in reply.

“What other units of ours are free” he asked one of the chief philosophers of strategy that there kingdom had under its wing, but the prince had been more concerned about his embarrassment, in a war he was required to know the army like the back of his hand, so asking such a question felt like he was admitting his lack of education.

But of the strategist took notice of that he didn’t know, and immediately started listing off there reserve forces, and although they didn’t number into the 10,000 range one of those units did strike his attention, two actually.

Quick and commanding he issued his orders.

“I want the Rangers back on duty, they are to travel ahead and set up traps for that approaching force, for the –“

“Too late” he heard someone interrupt, a soldier who stood by the entrance looking out to the battlefield

“They are already here”

The prince took in a deep breath and gulped down the spit down his suddenly dry and aching throat, he calmly walked up to the entrance and stood into the sunny day, and despite the scent of blood and clean fresh air, considered, it was a rather nice day.

The ocean stood behind the battle of White and Blue armour looked like a Tsunami, a great wave about to surround and envelope them, why because that’s what he would do with such a force. It stood so colossal like he was looking at the walls of heaven against hell itself, the great walls of the Knight Alexander, of the legendary kingdom of heaven.

The day really wasn’t all that nice; he quickly found the sun scorching hot, and the cool breeze, calm before a great and terrible storm.

“Order the retreat …” the prince said solemnly, dejected and fearful at the same time “with the victory my father has scored, that will offset our fall at this battle”

“At once your highness” the strategist said punching his right chest and bowing down before striding, no running off to find the runners, hopefully, the prince sighed, the devils gorge, the only entrance that led up on top of the cliffs was quite an effective choke point, and building the necessary apparatus to let them scale these cliffs would take days if not weeks, more than long enough to hold a defence.

“Romulus may be busy … but we need him now more than ever”

[Yggdrasil]

‘Oh this is not GOOD’

Romulus strategically deduced when he saw how far down the creek without a paddle he was. Truthfully he had spent for too much time duelling one-on-one with the Red Phoenix in quite literally the highlight of his week when he saw something that just did not sit right with him. Tell- tellingly it was the rather large unfriendly army he was now gracing with his attention.

Truly if he and his Steel titans then they would be easily overwhelmed and suffocated underneath the pile up of corpses that would quite literally start clamping over them just to break there formations. Another Bad thing was that the Red Phoenix was the most demanding woman he had ever met in his entire life.

Normally it was a quick whey-hey, but this was a little beyond the usual attention grubbing ex’s he was used too, the main difference was this one actually physically wanted to kill him, his other ex’s had simply wished it and left it at that.

It also made him wish for the days Women stayed out of these fights, well no, not actually, but he wanted to leave his opponent right here and now and space himself from that marching and stomping army as soon as possible.

Which thankfully came soon as he saw the general purple coloured flag briefly in the distance of there commanders tent, there signal for the retreat, or the general act of running away with the tail between there legs, which he had also seen way too much off.

Either way, the call for retreat was being signalled, and every soldier was now starting to pull out, with one final grin he looked at his rather overbearing wife upon the battle and lifted his hammer up high before striking it into the ground, the results were as desired, the enemy line before him stumbled or flew back into there own numbers.

Red Phoenix included which gave him ample time to turn heel and run away, good thing too, it would take a full day for ol yeller to charge up for another attack like that, so he made post haste to the Devils gorge, the only entrance to there side of the battle line, once again this battle will be fought there until the enemy would be pushed back to the initial starting points and the cycle would repeat, again.

Romulus eventually found himself walking along side with the happily bellowing Tiradon Gazto who rode proudly on his horse. Almost like there wasn’t a battle at all, like they had won rather than lost, but then when the same position had been taken and lost over 15 times in his life times, Romulus figured he too would grow some immunity to it.

Supposing he lived long enough to develop it.

“oh and lets tally em up, total kill count, 64” he said quite proudly of himself, while Romulus scoffed, how childish of the old man, to actually count how many he had defeated and crushed this day, of cause the glare he gave the man was not directed at him, but rather the memory of the woman who had taken up much of his time and his rather pathetic 12 kill count

“lets not” he sighed before looking back surprised to see so many wounded soldiers, strange considering that ‘wounded’ was a very rare thing, people usually made sure they made a kill before moving on these days.

“So the Devils gorge, it is well fortified right?” Tiradon started laughing out at the question and flashed the younger man with a childlike grin upon rosy red cheeks

“I forgot this is your first time on this front, Fortified isn’t even a question, it IS fortified, a narrow passage, room from only five soldiers marching in a line facing a 50 foot wall placed between the 100 foot overbearing cliff faces on either side.

And we are talking 5 such walls, these checkpoints have never once been breached, in this endless wars history, not even the first, the enemy will come because there is no other way, and there has been a many of a talented scout trying to find ways around.

But that’s our advantage over the Union boy, we have the high ground, all 100 feet of it at the lowest parts, plus the king with the main front of our army holds the true entrance” Tiradon stated while looking on ahead as the tall walls approached.

It was like he had described, but far different, he had neglected to mention the rather demonic carving inlaid into the rock face, carved by the invading armies, on there deaths it was said that they scratched the races into the rock.

Of cause that was the roomer and myth set up to demoralize other attacking armies to thing three times before making a move

“You simplified it Tiradon” Romulus remarked as he stepped through the gates that quite literally felt like was swallowing him alive, mostly the light of the sun faded, being only visible when it reached its peak in the sky.

“You should really write a book if you’re going to describe common knowledge to me”

Tiradon barked once “nah, I’ll leave that to the historian’s thank you very much, besides I wanted to make sure you weren’t going senile”

Romulus did make a comment, under his breath in a foreign language, twice

And backwards

Tiradon didn’t seem to notice, but the sly grin on his face told Romulus that the man simply did not care

[Yggdrasil]

The eastern plains of Trisong were beautiful, such rich open plains, typical miles upon countless miles of fields of grass, long winding clear blue rivers, open blue sky with only hints of fluffy white clouds, and in the distance the snow capped mountains of the Makelions. The king of the Kingdom of Grandolian was a well aged man, still strong, and powerful with the hard learned gaze that could make people wet themselves.

Personally he called it the ‘uncles look’ fond memories of his own uncle who, although kind and caring had the look of a person you really didn’t want to upset, or disappoint. It had taken him years to learn such a gaze as he looked to one of the messengers.

“Some of the stragglers have been surrounded and are putting up some resistance, however the main force has fled to the west, to intercept our western forces near the devils gorge” He said urgently and the King only partially worried for the safety for his son, but soon thought nothing of it.

Romulus was with the boy, Tiradon too, between the two of them they would ensure the safety of his son, but what he was upset about was that there was no doubt that the western forces would once again be driven from the Filch plains back into the Devils groge.

But beyond that he wasn’t worried, the Union had not a weapon or soldier strong enough to break the first gate, let alone all five of them, no his son would be safe beyond those gates which left him with a choice.

In all the years he had spent as king, he had ruled over his lands and warred with the union since he himself was but a prince, the 17th generation of rulers, Maxmillion the 5th was indeed an asset, as none before him had conquered a battle so heavily fought before.

It was lack for a better term, a break in the current cycle of things.

Never had they been faced with such a clear view to the north, it was almost like being welcomed into the enemy’s home, he smelled a trap but dismissed it for the fact the battle was hard earned.

Ballista’s still rumbled in the background, Catapults still swung and archers fired arrows upon arrows into what little remained of the force that had defended the gate to the north, now there were little more than 200 left against his 10,000. They may be seeing the end of this great and long war.

“Wow, I bet you’re proud of yourself”

The king’s hard and sturdy armour made the most musical of sounds as the plates hit each other, like dull bells followed by his thick cape flowing into the wind, he turned that terrible gaze upon the speaker and scoffed and frowned at the same time.

Of all people he had ever had the privilege of meeting this ‘Forginer’ was not among those he particularly enjoyed being in the company of. Oh sure, he admitted the girl was a tad exotic, but she could have him grinding his teeth and clutching his fist in clear agitation.

The only reason she was permitted to be there and allowed to observe the battle was simply because she had passed into his kingdom from the north, initially treated as a spy, of cause until she had dropped several hints of formations, traps and positions of the enemy, all of which had been accurate and true.

So far.

“Still here, don’t you have some kind of pilgrimage to complete” he asked before turning away from the woman setting his sights on his army mop up the remaining resistances. But agitating he could FEEL the woman grinning as she bore her Ruby red eyes into the back of his head

“Learning about Foreign Cultures and how they operate IS my Pilgrimage” she stated off-handed before walking forward, passing the king and knelt down to the ground, her fingers trailing the trodden dirt where a horse had stomped it’s shoe into the ground.

“So far it has been a rather enlightening Experience, The Geology of these lands mean for some rather imaginative battle strategies and Fortifications. You mentioned the Five Gates of the Devils gorge right” she simply stated and the king nodded, deciding to save his voice instead of bestowing it on the rude traveller.

“Mind if I go take a look?” she asked and the King sized her up once more, threat wise, the woman wasn’t any, she carried no Visible weapon of any sort, nor had she even brandished any kind of magic, even when his guards had, at more often then not swung there blades at her for being a simple pain.

“Actually, yes I do mind, what’s to stop you from relaying what you have learned back to the union” he barked and she turned a simple annoyed look at him, her odd silver furred tail swaying in annoyance

“Nothing actually, save my ire, piss me off kingie and I AM going to rattle on to those pig headed unionists all about your flare for strategies” it was a threat, but the King could see that she would not go off and reveal there secrets, the Woman was honest, too honest, and he was quickly led to believe during there somewhat tense discussions that what she said she would do, she would do.

“It’s too the west, if you get lost, just follow that retreating army” and as his eyes turned to the woman again she was already walking away, of all the insolent! Maxmillion swung his arm around destroying a pike that lay forgotten in the ground by his side in too.

He quickly turned his attention back to the Messengers and strategists “ set the order, were marching out, I want us in there capital Yesterday!”

[Yggdrasil]

The woman turned her attention back around to the Army and the king she had left in the distance, a small victorious smile across her lips as she brushed ever pesky strands of hair back behind her ears. True she was on a Pilgrimage and True she was not about to play double agent on anyone, and it was high time to keep on moving anyway, visit the next country, learn a thing or two and continue on before the long march home.

“Well the king was rather accommodating wasn’t he?”

She spoke to the air, and nothing replied back save the howling winds that picked up, she didn’t move but grinned and listened to a voice no one heard, at least no one but her.

“I know what I am doing, Kings are fickle, get them to think you’re a pest more than a threat then they will ignore you, pretend to be someone of importance and a pest then they tolerate you”

She stopped again once again pausing to listen to no one

“Danger? You’re underestimating me if you think I was in any danger”

She stated finally and turned around taking not five steps before she frowned and glared at the mountains in the distance

“No I am not underestimating them”

Her eyes darted to several dead bodies on the ground, archers who had been at one of the higher points on the battle who had been surprised by a small squad of the blue mantled knights of the north. She looked at them as a reference, the unsaid being that she could survive if she wanted.

“Arrogant, maybe a little, but your just a selfish bastard” She retorted to an unheard comment, smirked once before returning to the hours long journey, barking with laughter the next second before laughing in earnest.

“Yes, I forgot, you think I am the sword don’t you”

“ From my point of View you are ”

She scoffed at that thought, what a ridicules concept, how could it even pretend that it wielded people like weapons, she thought it to be confused and somewhat broken. She looked to her bell shaped sleeves and pulled on up to her elbow revealing the blue intricate looking patterns and the living like veins of energy flowing along it’s surface.

“I really should have listened to those monks about you, your nothing but a pain in the ass”

“I am only here to guide you and assist you, at the very least you could consider me a USEFUL pain in the ass?”

She remarked off headedly before missing her breath as a surprise comment had her in stitches

“ There is a rather large build up of energy to the North-west ”

“Yeah I agree, a rather useful hunk of junk, and … wait what?”

Her laughter stopped almost immediately as she turned towards the kingdoms army, now just a brown and red wave among the plains of grass that was possibly a few miles away, her eyes darted to them, there surroundings and back again like trying to find a hidden assassin.

“A build up of energy? But I don’t fell anything --- oh shit, how did you notice that!”

It wasn’t visible yet, but any mage could feel that build up, she was almost ashamed to admit that she had overlooked that

“I continuously absorb energy, when one of the flows began to weaken I assumed that it was being directed for something else”

She translated that as ‘what do you mean sense it, no way, I was given a plate full of muffins, always three, but this time I had two so obviously that muffin is being eaten by someone else’ it was a bastardized way of thinking but admittedly she understood her own logic rather well.

“Urm, are we safe where we are?” she asked

“ I would presume so, however retreating a further distance may be advised ”

“Duly noted”
She said before dashing in the opposite direction as fast as her legs could carry her

[Yggdrasil]

((going far too slow for my liking, i really gotta stop messing around with this))

Pain would be a good word to describe what he felt right now, it had been like he was unaware of the piercing pain up until this point when it seemed to pulse like a wild fire. Slowly everyone started coming back to him, who he ws, the name of his pet, what he did in school, why he was in a battle, up until that dreaded Red phoenix had stabbed him through the chest.

Hmm…

How was he still alive?

Aiesear knew that getting stabbed in the chest was rather bad for one’s health, that and he had, should have been left for dead on the battlefield, where soldiers would go over the fallen, finding survivors that could either be saved, or given merciful end.

Apparently he was a lucky one

He forced open an eye and glanced to the sky above him, growing confused when it seemed to have developed to black jagged boarders on either side. His eyes came into focus and he looked again, this time realising that they were the familiar enclosures of the Devils gorge.

Which meant the battle had been lost and they retreated,

Again,

This wasn’t the first time, and it sure would not be the last either

Still he was still confused, had someone saved him, by rights he should be dead, or fed to the Makelions. Still he could not ask, when he did his voice was but a whimpering cry that was dry but quickly sated by someone nearby with a bottle of water. His eyes turned to see one of his comrades in arms, same squad; Nathanial was a good person, a little meek for the army but a good friend all the same.

“How?” Aiesear croaked out and Nathanial simply told him to rest and save his strength, and being in his position he had not really had the strength nor the will to argue, and gave a grunt of a reply before closing his eyes to rest once more, and he found sleep was quick to turn him even if the pulsing wound in his chest throbbed once more.

The only thing he knew, the only thing everyone in the Devils Gorge knew was that they each had a certain degree of a very bad feeling.

Which a few miles away, was charging into uncharted enemy territory, a land that none from the kingdom had ever set foot in over 500 some years, proudly stomped horse shoe and heavy boot into the plain grass fields.

Maxmillion, the current King of the empire smiled at that revelation, they were winning, finally after countless years of his rule, his father’s rules and his fathers rule, there was something to be gained, the pattern that had been repeated, had finally been broke.

But there was something not right

It was too easy, after travelling for no less than half an hour did he notice that the fields were quiet, unchallenged, at there current rate they would reach the gates of there enemy within the day.

The breeze stopped blowing allowing the sun to bear its full glory down upon them

Maxmillion could not help but glance up to the sky, and he suddenly knew fear, he knew his time was undoubtedly up, there in the sky high above them was a magic circle, sounds pretty harmless, the diagram had countless runes, symbols and other such curves and starts that he would never understand.

It glowed and the air got thick and stagnates within seconds, but there was little mistaking the course, of because this little magic circle itself was impossible, no mage, mortal or immortal could perform this, even gods themselves were not thought to be able to perform this.

It glowed and the centre, a small star, or sun he didn’t know, fell towards them, brighter and brighter, until the light swallowed him up completely.