The Last Stand at Carnelost

[Call me J]

(if you want in, PM)

There was nothing about the situation that would have been comfortable to even the strongest veteran. Tel Aglarim had spared the forces it could, but every last one of the soldiers in Carnelost knew their fate well enough. They were only fighting to buy time for the resistance in Eluriand. Their victory, if it came at all, would be there, when Findelfin and his soldiers repulsed the attack. The elves that died in Carnelost that day would not be remembered as heroes, except perhaps in the collective, and only then in passing. Yet, the elves stood proud and strong, ready to lay down their lives for their families, for each other and for Raiaera.

Somehow, Jame had managed the privilege of standing amongst them. There were very few non-elves who had the courage to join the line at Carnelost, and even fewer that Captian Tuvail trusted enough to put there. Jame, mostly by connections, now stood amongst them, one of the few non-elves to have actually been inducted into Tel Aglarim officially.

Now, the half dragon stood next to the Captain, and the two began to discuss strategy. In an effort to give Eluriand its greatest chance at success, Tuvail had sent all of his most trusted lieutenants to report to Findelfin, leaving him with Jame as his closest facsimile to a confidant. The two had not even met each other before two days ago, but Tuvail had known Damon Kaosi well, and if Damon was to have endorsed Jame’s ascension into Tel Aglarim, that was going to have to be good enough for Tuvail.

Especially under the circumstances.

Xem’zund’s forces could be heard rumbling in the depths of the Red Forest. By this time, decayed trees and rot itself could be seen lurching towards Carnelost. Tel Aglarim had been successful so far in repulsing the undead attack, but they had only faced the first trickle. None, save for the most foolhardy of the young soldiers, took any solace from the initial successes.

“Once the situation is hopeless, flee for Eluriand,” Captain Tuvail said. “The more people we lose on the line here, the more of us will be fighting as corrupted elves against our brothers in Eluriand.” The veteran soldier shuddered at the thought. Even though he knew it was inevitable, he hated to think of the idea of his reanimated corpse razing Eluriand. He only hoped that his lieutenants in Raiaera would know better than to hesitate.

Jame nodded. It seemed strange to be given orders to save himself when they were coming from a dying man, especially since their battle had not yet begun in full force.

“Now go man the line,” Tuvail said. He could feel himself growing a bit sentimental, and while his passions would aid him in battle, the Captain knew he couldn’t afford to let his men see him act emotionally. They would need to draw their courage from his strength.

With the best salute he could muster, Jame made his way to the line grimly. He joined up with the artillery, and looked around his unit to see a group of archers and spear throwers who were ready for the battle to begin in earnest.

Clearing his throat in a hope that it would cleanse the nervousness from his voice, Jame turned around and looked at the archers, relaying a simple order from Captain Tuvail. “We don’t have too much ammunition…” Jame said. “The ground troops are counting on us for cover, but we can’t fire until we know we can hit. When we run out of ammo, it’ll be time to run to Eluriand. Don’t wait for anyone else, saving yourself gives the undead one less soldier.”

The half dragon only hoped that his mostly elven charges understood his Tradespeak. At the very least, he knew he could rely on Caine Raienbark, a friend he had brought with him from Corone.

The rumbling in the trees grew louder and the first wave of undead burst through. Jame shuddered. His archers were protected a bit because they had higher ground, but even then, there would not be many survivors.

Somehow though, Jame knew he was going to make it out alive.

[Caine Raienbark]

Sweat trickled down his already moistened brow and the strong stench of decaying flesh reached his nostrils long before he had expected it to. The filthy undead vermin had begun their march, and Caine knew it even though the only visual clues that aided him was the mild darkness growing across the pass. The red that had once been the crown upon the hefty trees that stood between himself and inevitability now were christened with a darkness too ugly for words. No more than a few hundred yards away their enemies charged, teeth gnashing and claws raking at the trees, eager and anxious to reach their long awaited pray.

The ramparts would not hold, he knew. The city was small and meager, already suffering very much so from a lack of men to protect it. What was a garrison expected to do against an army?

Nothing, he thought. We're expected to do nothing more than slow their movement. Be with us today, Timeless One, so that we may make it safely through this battle.

This will not be a long battle.

His chest constrained so tightly he feared he would forget to breath as he waited for the enemies to finally become visible. The aura of the undead sent a chill up Caine's spine, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand completely straight. Under his scarf his mouth was dry, though that was perhaps the only part of him free of moisture. His palms were sweaty, as was his back, which rubbed uncomfortably against the thin fabric of the shirt which separated leather armor from flesh. It took every last inch of himself not scream in frustration at the certainty of their fate, but alas, he stayed himself.

“Jame, I am with you,” he said proudly, praying to the Heavens that his voice would not break under the tension that was pushing on his lungs. The half-dragon had recruited him for this mission, and Caine did not envy the thought of having to place an arrow into the throat of his newest friend. Nonetheless, he should have expected nothing more when he was first brought into the mix. He had heard of the massive undead attacks taking place in Raiaera, though now that he was finally faced with such conflict, it made his heart pound furiously and caused his knees to shake. It was then, contemplating how exactly he had become enthralled in such a mess, that he first caught sight of the ghastly figures.

Wave after wave poured from the forest, dashing from the blackness towards the castle with the speed of the Dark One himself. Their acrid aroma became even more noticeable now, a vile scent that practically triggered Caine's gag reflex. From what his keen eyes could tell, skin hung off many of the undead by only a little, and many of their decaying organs were revealed. They were truly a disgusting sight.

Steadying his bow and bringing it to aim, he locked on to a target. Tunnel vision kicked in, and he soon knocked an arrow into place. Despite the growing tension within him, his hands were stone still. He knew that felling one amongst many would do him little could, but he at least wanted to drag down one of the bastards. He aimed for the throat, desperate to fell the creature in one fell shot. His thumb twitched and he watched as they approached, growing closer and closer each second.

He let the shot fly, grimacing as a piercing howl sounded in the night.

[Call me J]

Jame heard Caine’s assurances and they were welcome. Barrages of arrows were fired, some of them judicious, others not nearly as wise. The half dragon watched as many landed far short of their targets, a clear sign of nervousness.

“Get yourself together people!” he said, waving his hands frantically. “The ground needs our cover, as long as we can provide it. Every arrow wasted is one less minute of cover…”

Though he should have known better, Jame was panicking. He grabbed a spear from one of the barrels and began to watch the battle more carefully, hoping that he wouldn’t get any questions from the archers. From his vantage position on the ramparts, the half dragon could tell that the battle was going poorly for his side. The undead surging through the Red Forest were more powerful than any undead Jame had seen before. There were not only the usual fare of zombies and corrupted elves, but corrupted plants and animals as well.

Immediately, Jame’s thoughts fell to the stories he’d heard about the dangerous beasts that lived in the Red Forest. He cringed, thinking of the blood vines and dur’taigens that would be part of the enemy contingent. Even without the dangers of the Red Forest, Tel Aglarim was not faring all that well. The first lines of the infantry had already collapsed, and anxious soldiers had rushed out into battle not realizing they had moved out of the cover of the artillery.

Within the first few minutes, it was clear that the infantry leaders had already been slain or had deserted. The soldiers weren’t fighting as a unit, instead they were desperately waving their swords and pikes in attempts to stay alive. Far too many of them had moved out of the range of arrows, let alone spears.

For a moment, Jame wondered if he could get a message down to the infantry. He doubted it. No raven would have been foolish enough to fly into that battle, especially now as the first wave of wraiths had begun to dart ominously across the sky.

“We’ll have to move in closer…” Jame said. It was a calculated risk. It meant better coverage for the infantry now, but it would make their escapes later more difficult. He pointed to a clump of small houses that were about fifty feet closer to the battle. “We need to get up on those roofs…”

His soldiers nodded, and began to pack up their equipment. Jame could tell they were scared, but there was little he could do or say to raise their spirits.

“COME ON!” he shouted. “Those people down there are counting on us.”

As he moved down from the ramparts, Jame couldn’t help but gulp nervously. He wondered if his gambit would pay off. The way Tel Aglarim was losing down below, Jame feared by the time the archers had reached the rooftops, it would have already have been too late.

[Caine Raienbark]

Mild panic had begun to set into Caine as he tried feverishly to fire more and more arrows. As the battle passed, his shots grew less precise. His palms had sweat through the cloth that had been meant to help him keep a firm grip and were beginning to make his hands itch uncomfortably. He lifted is hand to his mouth and bit it firmly to dig at one particular sting of itching, then reaching quickly to his back to grab at another arrow. His fingers had grown slick with perspiration and the marksmen found it hard to take grip. Caine fired the shot and watched as it weakly pierced the arm of an undead. Not only had the arrow not gone through a vital organ, it had missed his intended target completely. Trying to knock another arrow frantically, he felt his quiver and realized he only had three arrows left. The man grimaced firmly and began to take aim once more.

Smoke had begun to fill his nostrils and was beginning to seep into his throat and down into his lungs. Taking a moment between shots to lean over and look down at the ground below he noticed numerous undead that had lit themselves on fire and were beginning to hurl themselves upon the remaining soldiers on the ground. The battle was almost all but lost, and he himself only had two arrows remaining in his quiver. Sounds of terror filled Caine's ears and the smell of rotting flesh as well as fresh-spilled blood was beginning to be completely overcome by the smoke. The stinging fog licked at his eyes and made his vision practically useless. He stumbled back to clear his eyesight as well as look for more ammunition. Looking to the crate that had been set aside for additional ammo, he noticed their supplies growing thin. He grabbed what was left of their stock- sixteen arrows. There had been eighteen, but Caine noticed the last two had been poorly made and would most likely not fire straight. Placing the remaining arrows in his quiver and heading back to the ramparts, the sight that filled his eyes made his chest ache.

One corrupt elf tore into an untainted elf, ripping the throat from the poor soldier's body with it's teeth. Blood splashed to the ground, covering the matted black grass with a fresh coat of crimson. Caine leaned back and allowed himself to vomit, a mixture of a ghastly sight as well as the horrible smells that reached him had finally triggered his gag reflex. He had relinquished his scarf for a brief moment before pulling it back over his mouth and moving to the parapet.

“Jame!” Caine yelled through the bloodied scene below him. Some of the archers had gone with Jame, some had stayed. Those who chose to stay on the ramparts to provide cover found themselves standing helplessly, all their ammunition exhausted. Caine looked at them desperately, unsure of how exactly to handle the situation. Sweat and ash covered his dirty face and he looked for his companion. “Jame! We must retreat! There can be no more stalling, they will overrun the town with us in it if we do not go now!” he called eagerly, motioning for the archers to begin running. Not waiting for any sort of auditory response, Caine himself began to stumble back in retreat, feeling as though his heart were close to bursting with demoralization. The sounds of the screaming and dying elves that he was leaving behind would not soon be forgotten.

[Call me J]

Jame didn’t bother to listen to Caine. “Forget you!” he shouted back. He knew there was no time to spare. He didn’t’ know if his decision was right, but it was a decision that he’d made. Already, a few of the archers had begun climbing up the rooftops. If he retreated now, he would be abandoning them as well. “We need to give them more time.”

The half dragon had felt as though an inordinate amount of responsibility had been placed on his shoulders, all through having known Damon Kaosi. Jame knew he needed to show his courage now, and if he didn’t, he would have betrayed both the former general and Captain Tuvail’s trust.

With that, Jame grabbed a barrel of spears from one of the more reluctant soldiers, only to find that the undead had made a clever gambit of their own. While there were still soldiers down on the ground fighting the corrupted elves and zombies. Xem’zund had sent a pair of corrupted trees forward in order to knock out the archers. The powerful plants had knocked over one house already, and the elves that had made it to the roof tops were now rushing back down.

“Damnit…” Jame thought. “Caine is right. I should have trusted him.” He grabbed a spear out from the barrel.
“Start running!” he barked at Caine and the rest of the archers. He heaved his spear forward, hoping that it might help somewhat. Instead, it fell uselessly to the ground.

The half dragon knew what awaited the men who survived. They would have a long run to get to Eluriand, that was, if they made it with their lives intact. However, they had no choice at this point. It was either that they flee, or die and join Xem’zund’s army unwillingly.

Jame knew it was no time for regrets, so as he started running, he did his best to forget about he soldiers he’d let die. Still, his foolishness as a commander sat in the back of his throat like a lump. He thought of the soldiers that were lost, the explanation that he’d need to offer to Captain Tuvail if they both made it out of Carnelost alive.

“Don’t think of that,” Jame thought, as he picked up another spear and threw it, hoping to give himself and his men a bit more time. “What’s ahead can’t hurt you, what’s back there will…”

With that, Jame began to run. As he’d turned away from the corrupted trees, he didn’t notice that one of them, possessing teeth all along its bottom row, had suddenly burst into an entire pack of corrupted wolves that were quickly gaining ground on Jame and his men.

[Caine Raienbark]

(OOC: Bunnying approved.)

Breaking into a full out run in an attempt to escape the lost city, Caine only then realized how much smoke he had inhaled. It took a heavy toll on his lungs and each breath he took felt as though he were trying to lift a weight with his ribcage. Wincing and pushing himself through the pain, he began to soon lose the scent of the bloody, death-filled scene behind him. He was finally able to waft fresh, clean air once again. The only question now was what path would they take next. Caine himself had never been to Raiaera, and as such his main focus turned to not losing any of those around him.

“Jame, my friend,” his words had a mild bite to them, a bit annoyed at being brushed off earlier. Now, however, was not the time to burn bridges. “What is our next course of action? I do not know these lands well enough and am relying on your sense of direction. I pray you know where we're going,” he said desperately, finding it even more cumbersome to speak and run at the same time. Taking a short glimpse behind him at the carnage taking place, he watched as the zombies and corrupted elves poured in through the main gates of the city, slaughtering the few who had chosen to remain behind and fight.

Their poor souls will never find rest, Caine thought, rubbing a bit of ash from his cheek. Jame, around eight soldiers, and Caine himself retreated through the main street of Carnelost. It sent chills up Caine's spine to think that at one point in time, these streets had been filled with children's laughter and excitement, merchant's peddling their wares, and the smell of fresh bread and meats wafting from the carts of cooks. Now, a few scattered corpses lay about, the only sounds were those of the city behind them being destroyed, and the smell of death surrounding them. It was a sad turn of events, for Caine knew that even now the city was in better shape than it would be hours from now.

Weaving throughout the city streets in an attempt to escape the labyrinth, Caine followed Jame as he lead them from the broken cobbled streets to the tilled earth that served as the ending line of the city boundaries. Continuing to trek out into the vast expanse of trees, Caine did his best to pace his running and catch his breath. The last bit of smoke that had filled his lungs was finally beginning to filter out, and he felt himself able to breath successfully and clearly once again.

“Well, we made it out...at least something went right on this damned day. What's the next plan, sir?” he asked Jame. It felt strange to address his friend as 'sir,' but under the circumstances ahead of them, he did not want to compromise anything by losing all semblance of rank and structure. Glancing at the soldiers who had made it out of the city with them, he noticed two had gone missing, leaving now only six. They must have gotten lost...poor bastards, he thought tentatively, chewing a bit at the corner of his lip while awaiting further instructions.

[Call me J]

(Bunny approved)

Before Jame could manage any kind of a plan, he saw the dur’taigen rapidly gaining ground on his soldiers. “We’ve gotta fight…” he said, though it was likely the archers were looking for more advice than that. Still, it was all Jame had to offer. “Any of you handy with the sword, stay at the back, the rest of you, turn around and fire when you can…”

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the only thing he could think of. Soon, they would reach the Solnaenen river, and after that things would be easier. They’d be able to find horses in the farmland, and Jame doubted the undead could travel as efficiently through water.

However, for right now, Jame was going to have to figure out how to fight. They could run, but they could only run for so long. “Just keep moving,” he said. “Don’t look back.”

With that, the group broke into a run. They were feeding off each other’s panic, but it they were unified as well. Jame was, despite himself, rush with emotions. He had wanted a clear head, because he knew that if he let his emotions govern his decisions, he would end up killing more people. Already, he had the blood of almost all of the artillery on his hands. Had it not been for Caine, they would have probably all been corrupted by Xem’zund by now.

That was the only reason Jame felt no anger towards his friend. It was strange to have Caine disobey him one minute and call him sir the next, but the half dragon appreciated the efforts to repair the nature of his command. He doubted any of the other archers trusted him after his mistake. If they listened to him, it would be for lack of another leader, not out of trust.

Running was doing little good. They were moving quickly through the Red Forest, with two of the archers carrying torches to keep the blood vines away, but even then, they could not outrun the wolves. Jame’s only hope was that the living fauna in the forest, as deadly as it was, would realize the threat of Xem’zund and ally with him against the Forgotten One. So far, no such luck. If the living fauna supported Tel Aglarim now, they were too scared to show it.

One of the wolves, the leader of the pack, was practically upon Jame. Knowing that he was the best with the sword, he was running behind the rest of the group. It was an act of contrition as much as an act of courage. Since there were only six of his men left, he was going to have to do what he could to protect these six.

As the wolf leapt forward, Jame turned around just in time to catch the wolf’s teeth on his forearm. He howled fiercely as he was bit, but managed to have the wherewithal to drive his sword straight into the corrupted wolf’s heart with his free hand. In pain, he knew there was no time to cradle his wounded flesh and continued running, his blade dripping with the blood of his enemy and his arm dripping with blood that was his own.

“Keep going,” he said through grated teeth. He thought back to the Citadel, and how much pain he had experienced there. The wolf’s teeth stung far worse. Jame only hoped as a result, he wouldn’t end up undead.

[Caine Raienbark]

The party had become somewhat spread apart, yet were all still in the same general area. They continued to sprint, knowing full well that the dur'taigen were tight on their heels. Their feet padded the ground hurriedly and Caine could hear their snarling jowls snapping as they grew closer, aware of the death and blood that lay ahead should they be able to catch their pray.

Realizing now how restrictive his armor felt, Caine tugged lightly at his collar. Soon he found himself jerking at it while he ran, trying to give himself more breathing room. The thing fabric of the shirt did little to sooth the rash that was beginning to be burned into his skin from the agitated leather. When he first had the tunic fashioned for him, Caine realized he should have asked for a more comfortable hide. What he was wearing now was not built for long distance running, nor was it meant to sustain as much sweat as had poured from his body. Should the group of fighters ever find themselves in a comfortable situation again, he promised himself to have a more comfortable set of leather armor fashioned.

Below his feet Caine felt fauna crumbling and twigs snapping. Every so often he would gently stumble as something tugged at his boots. The further they ran the more his nose became assaulted with the various smells of his comrades. One had, if his nose did not deceive him, relieved their bowels as they were running. Angry with the man for his lack of control, Caine said nothing but continued to run. The footsteps of the wolves rushing through the forest were still fresh in his ears and they appeared to be growing louder, signaling the fact that they were gaining ground. Caine picked up his running, and although his calves ached and his lungs burned, he pushed harder and harder to separate himself from the dur'taigen.

Taking a brief moment to turn his head slightly to the side so that he could ensure Jame was safe, he found himself practically tripping over an uprooted stump. However, that did not startle him nearly as much as the howl that he heard escape his companion's lips.

“Wait!” he shouted to the other men. However, only a few listened as the rest kept running towards Solnaenen, which was now only another hundred yards away. Sliding to a halt as best he could, Caine felt his body move in as fluid a motion as he was ever able to muster. He unslung his bow with his left hand, spinning it as straight as was possible and allowing his right hand to dart towards his back and knock an arrow. He let the arrow rip and watched as it soared harmlessly over the pack of wolves. Apparently his aim had not been as spot-on as he had predicted.

“Damn it to hell!” he said loudly, listening as the other archers loosed their arrows upon the pack as they approached. “Run! Quick Jame, come!” he shouted further, knocking another of his arrows and sending it into the wolves as they ran forward. His heart raced as he felt two more arrows fly past his shoulders into the crowd. “We must go now!” he said, beginning to backtrack as he fired a third arrow into the group of beasts. Soon he had turned again and motioned for the archers to continue running, hoping he had bought enough time for his friend to escape.

[Call me J]

(bunny approved)

Jame was able to move fast enough. He wanted to stop, but he knew better. Thanks to Caine and the rest of the archers, the dur’taigen had been slowed down enough that they’d be able to get to the river in time, as long as they continued running hard.

“Thanks guys,” the half dragon managed breathlessly. He stuck his sword, still dirty with durt’taigen blood, back in its sheath, though the blade was glowing so brightly that the blood was hardly noticeable.

The archers were moving quickly now, though Jame feared his longer gait would leave a few of them behind. Unfortunately, the archers weren’t always the best soldiers when it came to fitness. One of them, an older, more portly elf, was beginning to lag behind. Until then, he had managed to keep pace with the group, but now, it was clear he was losing his ability to run. With every breath, the old elf coughed violently, and his head was beginning to sag. His legs still ran, but they were getting slower and slower.

“COME ON!” Jame shouted. He wrapped his arm around the elf’s shoulder. “We NEED you. Eluriand needs you!” He didn’t know what else to say. By now, he’d already left enough men behind that he couldn’t afford to lose another.

Jame continued, running hard, and the older elf tried to follow. They were approaching the Solnaenen, another twenty feet and they’d be in the water. Jame knew that even if the regular undead could wade through, the dur’taigen wouldn’t have much of a chance. They would have to find a bridge somewhere, and by then, his men would have found their steeds and be half the way to Eluriand.

The only problem was Jame didn’t know if the older elf could make it. The half dragon didn’t want to lose another soldier, especially after everything that had happened, but he had already begun to slow his gait just to avoid leaving the portly elf behind. Now, he could see in the little white foam that was collecting in the corners of the elf’s mouth, there was practically no way he would be able to ford the river.

Still, for Jame, that was unacceptable. “Run goddamn it,” he insisted. “I’m not leaving anyone else behind.”

The portly elf shook his head. “Nuh… nuh… no…” he managed. He unsheathed his sword and moved to a stop. He thrust his bow and arrows on Jame. “Take those,” he said. “You’ll need them more than I will.”

Jame pulled to a stop as well. “I’m not leaving you…” he said. His eyes burned fiercely. “I’m just not.”

The rest of the archers had practically reached the river by then. Jame knew they didn’t have much time. However, the older elf was not about to budge. “Go without me,” he said. “No point in both of us dying. Tuvail wanted some of us to survive.”

Jame sighed. He knew the elf was right. Still, he couldn’t make up his mind. However, before he could do anything else, the portly elf summoned up what energy he had left to charge straight at the dur’taigen. Knowing it was hopeless, Jame choked back his tears and began running, knowing now he had to move fast to beat the dur’taigen. The half dragon moved with all deliberate speed and just managed to dive into the river on the heels of having his legs bit at by the wolves. He swam quickly and truly, his near death experience giving him a sudden burst of energy, and moved through the water more quickly than could have normally been expected. When he made it over to the other side, he quickly washed out his wound and sword, and then turned to the other archers.

“Well let’s get some swords and then get the hell to Eluriand,” he said. “We can’t stay around here.”

He tried not to think about the older archer who had died. Jame reminded himself that if they were going to get to Eluriand safely, he had to focus only on what was ahead. He thought of throwing away his now deceased comrade's longbow and arrows, but decided against it. There was always the chance that they might end up saving the lives of someone left standing.

[Caine Raienbark]

(OOC: Bunnying approved.)

Having used up the last of his strength to push himself across the water, Caine rubbed at his eyes and tried his best to catch his breath. His lungs ached dearly, as did his entire lower body. Feeling as though his feet would give out from under him given the chance, he rubbed at his chest and began to stumble towards Jame.

“What happened t-” his sentence broke off as soon as he noticed the quiver and arrows in Jame's hands. “He...no...damn...” Caine's voice grew quiet as he tilted his head down to shield his face and gently pulled down his scarf. He sucked in air viciously and covered his lips up again as he stood. Looking at the ragged ends of his cloak that were stained with dirt and mud, he sighed and began to huff and puff once again. It seemed impossible to catch his breath after pushing his body to such limits, but slowly the archer began to feel his lungs fill once more with oxygen. He realized he should feel more sympathy for the lost elven marksman, but when survival meant sacrificing one to save many, the choice was one that often had to be made.

Caine looked back across the river to the opposite shore and watched the wolves pad the ground angrily, beginning to slink back into the forest. The trees themselves seemed to grow darker and the shroud of the bushes hid the beasts as they retreated into the forest, no doubt intending to find another means of getting to the weary soldiers. Turning now to the countryside that lay before them, Caine rubbed at his chest and tried to separate his shirt from his body, which had matted down from sweat.

Jame had begun to set off again towards where horses had been planted for their retreat. It sent a pang into Caine's heart when he realized how many intended riders there had been. Now, only 6 remained. So many families would be ruined after such a tragic event, and much of the blood was on his and Jame's hands. He followed his friend as they slowly walked across the beaten earth, finally able to run through the day's events in his head. His entire body ached both from emotional and physical fatigue. It was an amazing feat that the two of them had not died at some point, but Caine was thankful.

Finally coming into view of the horses, he watched as the soldiers slowly trekked through and chose their mounts. Finding a chocolate mare himself, he patted the beast's main and tested the saddle to see that it was fastened correctly. Caine himself was no master horseman, but the brief training he had received as a child made him somewhat capable of riding a mount.

[Call me J]

It took a while for Jame to muster the courage to answer Caine. He wondered if his friend held him responsible for the death of the elf. It was only now, that Jame realized he had never learned the now deceased archer’s name. The change of scenery had caused the half dragon to let down his guard a bit, and now that he had picked a dark stallion and climbed on, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. The momentary security had made him contemplative.

That was of course, until the horse buckled and threw Jame off. He shook his head, noticing that the archers were beginning to make a bit of fun at him.

“Hold on tightly with your ankles,” one of them said. “And there’s a saddle there. You take it, the rest of us ride bareback fine…”

A bit embarrassed, Jame followed the archer’s advice. He strapped the saddle on quickly, irritated at himself for how long it was taking. He didn’t know how interested Xem’zund was in capturing him and his men, but a few wraiths would be able to fly over the river quite easily.

However, they were not interrupted in the time it took Jame to saddle up his horse, and then, after a quick flick of his reigns, he was off. The entire group began to move, the more skilled riders amongst them testing out their horses’ relative skills.

As they moved out into the farm plains, Jame marveled at the abandoned fields. There was corn and wheat rising from the ground, enough to feed over a thousand families. However, now, because of Xem’zund, all the hard work would go to waste. Given all the deaths he had witnessed, it seemed odd to be fixated on the loss of agricultural profit, but for Jame it was just a needed distraction. He needed something to take his mind off the elf who hadn’t managed to get across the river.

It wasn’t working. Jame just felt as though he needed to be absolved of the death, especially now that he had the dead elf’s longbow strapped across his body. Carefully, he guided his horse up towards Caine.

“I didn’t mean to let anyone die,” he said. “Not back at the line, and not before the river either… you believe me when I say that don’t you?”

Jame felt particularly vulnerable as he spoke, and he desperately hoped Caine could forgive him. Otherwise, the half dragon would not be able to get his emotions back in check. And with wraiths flying overhead, Jame knew he couldn't afford to be vulnerable.

(bunny approved. Actually mods, assume all bunnies are fine)

[Caine Raienbark]

Far across the tilled fields and ridges Caine could see the faint glimmering that the fading sun caused on the Tittaduin River. The dying daylight came in the form of an orange-red sky, seeping to weep for all that had been lost that day. The sight of the river far off in the distance meant some peace would soon come to the weary soldiers.

A huge weight had been lifted off Caine's shoulders as they began to ride. Finally his legs were given a chance to regain their lost strength, though he would much rather have been sitting at a comfortable inn as opposed to his thighs rubbing against the side of a horse. However, in comparison to all that had happened that day, this was a welcome reprieve. Much death had taken place and the group finally had what appeared to be a clear path ahead of them. Soon they would be galloping into Eluriand, and although Caine did not relish the idea of having to tell of the massive casualties that had been suffered, he would be glad to find a warm bed and a warm bath to relieve his mind.

It appeared, however, that Jame was not feeling the same sort of relief. Caine had noticed the discomfort on his face when they had originally started to saddle the horses, and now became even more aware of it. When Jame spoke, Caine's felt his insides tighten with sadness.

“My friend, this was out of your control. You and I knew coming into this mess that we were not expected to rally against a force as large as that. All those stories of grandeur and epic battles, telling of how small groups of men triumphed over entire armies...those are few and far between.” Caine paused a placed a hand on Jame's shoulder, gripping it firmly so as to show the impact of his next words. “This is the real world, Jame. There is only so much that one can hope for, and in this case, it was to slow the undead as much as possible. We did that, we did our job. You cannot expect to win every single battle, especially not those which are very much not in your favor.” With those final remarks, he gave Jame a firm pat on the back and looked ahead.

In his mind, Caine pondered the truth of these words. How was it that some generals were able to rally troops to match mettle with factions so much stronger? The logistics of it did not make sense and no speeches or rallies would make up for the lack of a few extra thousand men. Usually, Caine figured, it was the presence of a specific general. One whose military prowess would allow him to avoid any deficit through the use of clever tactics. Although he placed much trust in Jame as a fellow combatant, he did not think much of his ability to lead troops. In fact, and Caine did not want to voice such a complaint as to further upset Jame, but some of Jame's decisions had been outright stubborn. Charging into battle when their only real purpose was to stall served little purpose- it simply caused many of their forces to be mowed down in a slaughter.

But, of course, some things are best left unsaid.

Noticing that they were now close to the river, Caine slowed his horse to a trot and stared at the water cautiously. For a brief moment he suspected he saw movement, but attributed this to a weary mind. There was something amiss about this water, and though Caine's archer eyes were keen, he could see no reason to voice his suspicion.

[Call me J]

It was only when the soldiers had made it halfway out into the Escaldor River when the water started to shake. The horses, nervous began to buckle. Jame’s threw the rider off in fear, and began to swim for shore itself. Now cast in the water, Jame spit in shock, rubbed the water from his face and began swimming, only to find out it was too late. Something had grabbed him, grabbed onto both of his legs. Jame could feel his legs being clasped by giant bony fingers, and he called out to the rest of the group to run.

It was too late. Xem’zund had given rise to a giant that had been felled in the river a long time ago, one that had all but decayed save for a few vital organs and a few scraps of other flesh. The corrupted giant now rose, mostly a skeleton, but possessing a foul odor from its years of decay. It held Jame in its right hand, and the half dragon’s wings flapped frantically. Sweat began to pour down his desperate face.

Another of the archers and his horse was on top of the giant’s head. The giant reached up, bit into the archer, and then let the chewed corpse fall back into the water. It was a sickening sight, and despite himself, it made Jame turn white with fear. He figured he was next.

“Save yourselves…” he called to his men. “Caine will lead you to Eluriand.” His voice quavered as he spoke. However, the rest of the soldiers had no chance to get past. The rising skeleton now blocked them from the bank, and with its other hand was now ready to catch the first soldier that tried to pass.

Shuddering, Jame reached for the arrows he had been given by the dead elf, but they weren’t there. They’d been knocked from the quiver when the horse had panicked earlier. Jame began to squirm a bit more, knowing his only, if any chance was to hope he got close enough to some flesh so that he could use his firebreath. Fire would have no effect on the giant’s bones.

The giant began gripping Jame tighter and tighter, and the half dragon began to grow more desperate and desperate. The tighter grip around his waist would make it almost impossible to take one of the deep breaths that he’d need for his firebreath to work. Somehow, someway, if Jame was going to get out of this, he was going to have to get the rest of the archers to help. After all they’d been through and the futility of fighting this monster, Jame wouldn’t blame them if they tried to escape. The giant might have caught one or two of them, but at least the rest would get to Eluriand safe. Once they crossed the river, there was only so far they had to go.

[Caine Raienbark]

Feeling his body become enveloped with water as the giant emerged, Caine coughed and sputtered. He had been unable to control his horse, and it, like the others, had darted towards the shore in a panic. Coughing up the last of the liquid that had entered his throat, Caine weighed his options briefly. He would have hated to leave Jame alone, but at the present time it seemed the only option. Now, however, the beast blocked their getaway, and the only other options were to fight for their lives or to sacrifice one or two so that the remaining fighters could escape. Two more soldiers dead did not please Caine, and as such, he called for the archers to muster their courage and draw their bows.

“Come! We have no other option!” he shouted. In a panic, however, one darted away, wading through the cascading river in an attempt to become free. The zombified giant grabbed the archer and squeezed so tightly that Caine could see blood starting to flow from the elf's mouth. Tossing the corpse aside, the zombie let out some sort of guttural roar and stamped his feet, causing the river to splash up further against the archers. Caine lost his footing and fell backwards, landing heavily upon one of the arrows that had fallen from Jame's quiver. Wincing in pain, he stood up with the shaft of the arrow sticking from his wast. Breaking the end of it off so as not to be a hindrance, he fought through the pain to pull an arrow free from his own quiver. He heard the rest of the archers shuffling to do the same, and for this he was glad. Had they all ran like their now dead cohort, there would have been no chance of survival. There was too few of them now to attempt an escape.

Glaring at the beast that was tightening his grip around Jame, Caine knocked his bow and did his best to ignore the pain in his side. He was having a hard time focusing on where exactly he should shoot the monster. The hand or wrist was the most obvious choice, but there was a great risk of hitting Jame by mistake. Instead, it would probably be better if they caused enough stress on the rest of the beast that it would force him to drop the half-dragon.

“Aim for his body! Do not risk a stray arrow hitting our commander!” Caine yelled fiercely, realizing how hoarse his voice had become from all the yelling of the day. Taking aim with his own arrow, Caine sent it flying towards the beast's massive lungs. Instead of puncturing, however, his arrow struck a decaying rib and crumbled away some of the bone. Four more arrows were sent towards the undead giant, only two sticking into the beast at various points. Grimacing at their lack of aim, Caine knocked another arrow and took aim as fast as he good, realizing the dire need to let loose the creature's grip. The current method was taking far too long, but he still feared one of the archers striking Jame. Taking a deep breath and attempting to steady himself, Caine aimed for the creature's wrist. He did his best to tune out the rest of the creature and the chaos going on around him. The zombie did not take lightly to being shot at, and was now swinging his free massive fist at the archer's. He let go of the arrow and let it fly, feeling as though it spent an eternity in flight.

[Call me J]

As the arrows rushed towards the giant, Jame continued to struggle in the creature’s grasp. “If I can only pull myself up,” he thought. Even if he wasn’t able to escape the giant’s bony grasp, he would have been able to at least draw his sword and begin to pry away at the giant’s bones. Thin tendons were the only things that kept the bones together, and Jame knew that if he could just get to a blade, he’d be able to cut them away. As he squirmed upward, he could notice that he was getting free. The corrupted giant, though powerful, seemed to have a limited attention span and ability to stay focused. Now that the barrage of arrows had begun, the grip that the giant had placed on him had grown weaker. As he struggled, the giant made no effort to tighten, but instead focused on the archers below.

“Thank goodness for Caine,” Jame thought gratefully. He had wanted the rest of the archers to leave, but given how desperate he was to live, he couldn’t help but feel glad they had disobeyed his order.

Now, the half dragon channeled every last inch of stamina into breaking free. Jame’s forearm still hurt from the corrupted dur’taigen bite, but none of his muscles had been damaged. The wound had begun to bleed profusely once more with the new strain that Jame placed on it, but his desire to survive somehow managed to block out the pain. Weary, he suppressed a grunt so as not to bring any added attention to himself. Jame was using all his might to pull himself up, his hands pressing against the giant’s bony hand as he squeezed himself out. Now, he began to wonder if his best chances might be squirming out completely. It would have been a sizeable fall back down to the water, but Jame was sure he’d be able to survive.

Right before he’d managed to escape, the giant realized he was still there. With a dull rumbling roar, the tremendous undead beast rose to bring the half dragon closer to its mouth, the very opportunity that Jame needed to use his firebreath. He inhaled deeply and waited, waited as his lungs began to fill up with a fiery breath that would be his last chance at freedom. There were a few scraps of skin still near the giants nose, and Jame knew that was where his fire needed to hit. It would have no effect against the bone.

As he grew closer and closer to the giant, he tried not to be intimidated by the creature’s rotted out eye sockets or decayed rotting teeth. He could no longer inhale or exhale, for he was keeping the flames in his chest until they were ready to burst.
A few second later, Jame had his opportunity. With all the power he could muster, he emptied the contents of his lungs out onto the giant. Shocked, the creature dropped him in surprise, howling in pain in a dull, garbled roar. Before Jame could realize what had hit him he went falling back down into the water.

He crashed with a hard splash, but hitting the water had never felt like such a relief. For a few brief seconds, the half dragon let the cool water cover him, and he managed a brief smile before swimming back up to the top. The giant, now wounded, had both hands trying desperately to fan out the flames on its nose.

[Caine Raienbark]

Watching the spectacle unfold in front of him as the Jame the half-dragon had freed himself, Caine continued to pepper the undead beast with arrows. Now, however, that Jame was free, the archer allowed a brief smirk to touch his face.

“Open up on him!” Caine called. Jame's powerful fire-breath proved not only to even the score by freeing him, but also gave the archers a bit of an advantage. Caine now realized that the giant's eyes and nose had been burned greatly, no doubt destroying any chance the creature had to sense them. All the archers fired furiously, desperate to bring the creature down.

The undead monster roared it's obvious disapproval as it began swiping back and forth in a frivolous attempt to destroy his enemies. They had all backed out of range, however, and were safely out of harm's way. Watching as the now clumsy beast stumbled and clasped for any semblance of help, it roared furiously and began to stomp the ground with his feet, sending up waves into the group of archer's. This was a minor inconvenience, however, as most of the archers had gained much confidence in their attack on the beast. Caine could feel it within himself, a growing hope that they would be able to vanquish this beast once and for all and finally reach Eluriand. What had started out as a mere glimmer was growing with each arrow that struck.

The beast continued to howl, the pain evident in it's roars as they grew weaker and weaker. Caine steadied what he hoped would be a final shot. Positioning his face close to his bowstring and carefully pulling back the arrow that was knocked in it, he let it fly and watched as it struck the beast's decaying lungs, sending a visceral roar from the creature's fleshy face. The beast's cry slowly turned into a low guttural gag as it sputtered up some dark fluids and fell backwards towards the water, sending out a small riptide that caused a few of the archers to fall.

Looking around at the damage that had been done, Caine noticed the corpse of another archer who apparently had not been positioned as well as the others. The water around him was inked with blood and showed that although blinded and scentless, the beast still had the capability to cause damage. Lowing his dripping head to quietly pray for those lost in their most recent battle, the archer turned from the battle and removed his scarf. Slowly he sponged out the water that had become caught in it. He then wrapped it back around his face and turned to look upon his comrades. The archers were patting one another on the back and congratulating each other, but Caine did not feel their adulation. The victory, like many others, came at a high cost. Sighing through the pain and nodding, he looked towards Jame.

“We should probably move on...what if there was more than one?” he said, the sorrow evident in his voice. The cost to delay the undead had come at a hefty price.

[Call me J]

Jame didn’t hesitate. “Yes…” he said. “Lets.” He had no desire to stay any longer than he had to in a river colored with the entrails of two Tel Aglarim archers. Quickly, he swam to shore, only to find that the horses had fortunately not wandered all that far. The steeds had been frightened, but Jame and the rest had been fortunate to have stumbled upon well trained beasts.

“Hey there…” he said, pleased to see the animals. He knew they would probably reach Eluriand safely now. The wraiths above head seemed to have little interest in attacking them, they were probably being sent ahead on scouting missions. The incident with the giant had been an unfortunate coincidence, and their greatest challenges were behind them.

All that was left now was to get to Eluriand with the soldiers that were left. Jame tried not to think about how many soldiers had been lost in Carnelost, and that to the best of his knowledge, there were only four of them left, himself, Caine Raienbark, and two elven archers who he had never really met. Jame wondered if that was intentional, the fact that he hadn’t gotten to know any of his comrades that he had met in Carnelost. They all had known the stakes of the battle they were entering into. They had known even if somehow, they had been lucky enough to survive, most of the people on the line would not. It was better for the deaths to be anonymous.

“Anonymous to the world,” Jame thought bitterly. “When we win in Eluriand, no one will remember these people anyways. They’ll call the people there hero, not the ones who fought knowing they were going to die…”

The half dragon wondered if he would have had the courage to stay on the line had he been a member of the infantry instead of the artillery. Given how close they were to the undead, he doubted any of them could have survived, even if they had experienced all the good fortune he had. However, Jame tried not to think about them. Once again, he had to remind himself about what was ahead.

However, that was no longer soothing. Perhaps they would get to Eluriand with a few hours to spare before Xem’zund’s army forged their way into the city, but soon enough the battle would have started again for them, the most respite they could hope for in Eluriand was bandages and a hot meal.

The half dragon was beginning to hate war. He wondered how Damon could have wanted him to fight here. He knew the fates had conspired to bring him into battle, and if it weren’t for the comradeship he felt towards Caine, Jame would have strongly considered deserting. Even now, it lingered in the back of his mind.

As he sped forward upon his horse, Jame couldn’t help but think that these last moments before he reached Eluriand might be the most peaceful he’d have in a long while. It was fortunate the wraiths above showed little interest in attacking, for by now, Jame could no longer blindly look ahead. With a heavy heart, Jame continued through the country side, caring little for the crops his horse trampled underfoot.

[Caine Raienbark]

The day had been a long one, and in retrospect, turned out to be to some extent a success. They had stalled the undead forces long enough, in Caine's opinion, to give Eluriand more time to prepare for the upcoming war. The fact that many elves had lost their lives to defend their homeland while two foreigners- he and Jame- survived made him sad. It made little difference, he knew, as to who died in war, for it was the one's remaining who would write history. Chewing on his lip as the horse galloped Caine felt the taste of blood on his tongue. It was only than that he realized how hard he had been chewing and did his best to mop up the blood with his scarf. He sighed and shook his head, pushing the day's unpleasant thoughts from his mind to the best of his ability. They emotional, physical, and psychological stress that had all gathered up during the day would soon be filtered into a distant point in his memory when he took a hot bath and got some long needed rest.

Men died today...innocent men died for a cause that they knew was fairly hopeless. That should not be filtered away, he thought solemnly. Shaking his head violently to remove the thought, he continued to ride.

When he looked up again, a glorious sight met Caine's eyes. The outline of Eluriand was finally there, and it filled his heart with as much joy as was possible at the moment.

“Finally!” he gasped, allowing a long smile to grace his lips. He ran a hand through his greasy hair and ruffled it, realizing then how uncomfortable it was. The wind had dried it well, but still made his scalp itch since it had not been washed since the previous day. Rubbing and smearing a bit of the ash from his forehead, he did his best not to look as though he had been to hell and back on that day.

As the riders approached and entered into the city, Caine knew the two archers felt the same relief he himself did.

“Come, my friends. Let us find a warm dinner,” he said, ushering them along with himself. Looking back to Jame, he took a moment to pause before waving the archers onward again. “Go, I will be along.” Looking at the winged man sitting on his horse in front of him, Caine couldn't help but chuckle at what the two had survived. Shaking his head briefly and letting out a long sigh that almost turned into a sob, he patted Jame on the shoulder.

“It's been a long day. Many were lost, we both know this. Will you be alright, my friend?” he asked, his eyes voicing true concern. He already knew the answer, but wished to at least show Jame that he felt pain in his heart after the day's events as well. War sometimes proves to be a necessary evil, even if neither party wishes it so.

[Call me J]

Now that he was in Eluriand and safe, Jame wanted to answer his friend candidly. They had been through a very tough battle, and somehow, while they’d managed to survive, Jame didn’t feel completely whole. It was as if a part of him had died with each soldier who had been lost along the way. The half dragon let out a sigh. “I’m alright,” he lied. He paused for a moment. “I will be fine,” he said. “Eventually… I’ll be fine come the next battle, for right now, I just don’t know what to think.”

A young elven page ran towards the two with a hurried expression on his face. “I’m going to need one of you to come with me,” he said. “You’ve seen the battle first hand, we’re going to need to know what you’ve seen from Xem’zund’s forces.”

Jame nodded. He wasn’t particularly hungry. Soon enough, he could get his arm looked after. “You go eat,” he told Caine. After all, it had been his fault that so many soldiers had died. He wondered how many of the archers would have survived if it hadn’t been for his initial gambit. All the ones who’d climbed the rooftops, the portly one who’d been killed by dur’taigen would have had a better head start, perhaps they would have even been able to cross the Escaldor before Xem’zund had awoken the giant.

The half dragon, cradling his wounded arm, made his way into a tent that was serving as a makeshift office. It was surprisingly bare for an officer. Save for a simple desk and a few maps pinned up on the walls, there was nothing in the tent. A lieutenant sat at the desk. “I’m sorry General Findelfin cannot congratulate you or your men personally,” he said. “But you have done well here. Is there anyone from your group you’d recommend for a medal?”

“A medal?” Jame asked incredulously. He had known that the military was strange, but this is the first time he’d heard of a medal being awarded for surviving. If anything, the ones who’d died in Carnelost were the ones who deserved medals, not the ones who’d made it out alive.

“Well you are the senior officer, aren’t you?” the lieutenant asked. “I asked to speak to the senior most survivor...”

For a moment, Jame thought he wouldn’t recommend anyone. He couldn’t, after all, all they had done was run away. However, he paused. “Other than the soldiers that died bravely, I’d recommend Caine Raienbark,” he said. His friend had been a great consolation, and had used considerably more sage judgment than he had.

“Very well then,” the lieutenant said. “Anything else you need to add?”

“Xem’zund can reanimate dead trees,” Jame replied. “And some of the trees are really dur’taigen.”

The lieutenant seemed less surprised than Jame would have expected. “Very well,” he said. “Get your wound looked at soon, we should be expecting the battle to hit Eluriand shortly. You and your men will be reassigned once you are fighting fit.”

“Thank you,” Jame replied. For a moment he wondered why he was thanking the lieutenant for promising more conflict. However, that was a feeling Jame knew he was going to have to keep to himself. Until this war was over, most of Jame’s thoughts would remain secrets.

With that, the half dragon bowed, left the tent and began to prepare himself for the next battle. For better or worse, the future of Raiaera lay in Eluriand. War was only beginning.

(spoil request- the longbow. standard tel aglarim issue. I'll let the moderator decide material)

[AdventWings]

After many sneezing and runny nose, I bring you... Your Judgment.

Story

Continuity - 7

There was enough information about the situation going on in the Undead Invasion, although I felt that you did not take enough advantage of the backstory to full effect.

Setting - 6

Although very intriguing at times, the atmosphere was watered down and much of the passage of time was left only to narration. Interaction was more or less passive and (in my humble opinion) a bit of a let-down.

Pacing - 6

A story told mainly from a passive viewpoint really killed the urgency of the situation. I am not sure how to remedy this, although I hope that taking on a more "active" interaction may help to improve the overall feel. However, I do love how you play off each other's posts and keep the story flowing forward without any unnecessary retelling.

Writing Style

Mechanics - 8

Very well usage of language. Not nearly flawless, but you have not much left in need of improving asides from varying the method of delivery. Caine should watch for homophones (pray and prey, for example) and other terms that you may not be familiar with. Otherwise, well done.

Technique - 8

Vary your method of delivery to give that alarming sense of urgency. That's about the only advice I can give you here.

Clarity - 8

Everything made sense and any ambiguity present served to enhance the ominous aura of the story's development.

Character

Dialogue - 7

At times, I wondered if Caine was too casual with his interaction in the middle of battle. Add some tension into your speech in the midst of combat to help add that sensation. Jame began to sound a bit generic at the start of the story, but his delivery improved later on.

Action - 7

I attribute this to a rather anti-climatic atmosphere being felt around the later half of the story. Although executed fairly well, some of the actions were too casual for a soldier in the middle of a retreat such as stopping to wash your sword when the enemy is just across the river. I do not know how wide the Solnaenen is, which further questioned the urgency of the retreat.

Persona - 8

I attribute this to Jame's stoic demeanor over the course of the story (asides from his inner demons and guilt) in contrast with Caine's lively passion and fervor in the face of adversity. Where Jame represents tactic and strategy, Caine represents action and intiative.

Miscellaneous

Wild Card - 10

I had a hard time deciding how much to give this thread... I was not stellar, but it was not lackluster either. Also, I give you extra points here for working out the model Story Flow I was looking for.

Also, congratulations on finishing within the time constraints! EXP and GP Doubled!

FINAL SCORE – 76!

((Rewards + Spoils))

Call me J receives 4,800 EXP and 500 GP as well as the Tel Aglarim standard-issued Ulder Long Bow.

Caine Raienback receives 2,400 EXP and 440 GP.

You are both eligible to claim your special reward at the FQ Moderator.

Thus completes this story of the Last Stand at Carnelost.

[Karuka]

EXP/GP added! You both level up!