The Guilded Lily and Kenku Allied Forces v.s. The Army of War

[Philomel]

Murmurs could be heard throughout the camp as the news swiftly came from the west. Whispers became mutters, became rumours, became gasps and then cries as the understanding swiftly developed. Every ear that the words came across comprehended just what they implied; that the enemy was now here, and was swiftly approaching. That those who dared to stand in the path of nature's power had deemed themselves now worthy to stride upon the tundra, summoning their forces to herald the battle of a glorious century.

It had been a certain young faun, travelling with her loyal companions as they strode over the plains as a company of three. Armed with steel maces and a crossbow that hung from belts and thumped against their haunches, they had been striding around the circumference of the camp, around a quarter of a mile. They were prime examples of the Brawlers of the Gilded Lily Army - fine, strong women who relied on strength above all else. Quietly they had been speaking and determinedly they had been ranging, eyes keen and eager for any signs of the incoming army. Even ten hours of no news had not dulled these ladies spirits.

Gasping, Celandine, daughter of the great commander herself, froze in her hoofstep, her eyes wide and staring. Within half a second her two comrades had halted, alert as she and hefting their maces into the air.

"What is it, Lady Dine?" one asked, her tone rich and deep with passion. "What do you see?"

Celandine's eyes widened as she raised a hand and shoved it into the air. It pointed out towards the vast plain that was the tundra, dim in the dark light. Her bright green eyes piercing she gestured madly and began to blabber quickly.

"I saw - I was sure I saw, it was ..."

The one who had spoken nodded her head once, knowing exactly what was being said. Looking to their third companion, a bulky elf-maid, she exchanged a single nod with her before she twisted on her foot. Then, with pounding steps that shook the earth around her she began to run, hand gripping around her heavy weapon that was brutal and sharp. With her other fingers she grappled with the horn that hung by her crossbow, and it took three attempts to fully be able to grapple it properly. Then, with a trembling hold she raised the sounding implement to her lips and blew long and powerful.

Whispers began. Whispers that became mutters, rumours, gasps and then cries.

"Where do we stand?" Philomel van der Aart said in a low voice as she threw back the flaps to the command tent. Following swiftly the four other captains of the army bustled out after, on paw, claw and foot. The fox was now off the kenku's shoulder, his golden eyes gleaming as he pattered at the hooves of the mighty faun.

"Reports are coming in of the enemy splittering in various places. What we have approaching us directly is a small but powerful force that we consider to be demons," Stare said in a low voice, the eyes of the kenku dark and bitter. "Else, Aron and his fliers report that there are some larger forces collecting. Those reports are still coming in but -"

"But what?" Philomel shrieked, whirling around and glaring at the kenku, "Just what?"

Stare straightened, eyes narrowing. "But, Philomel, it will take time. We know where their camp is, but we do not know how many forces they have nor the type. Hells knows, if we have one set of demons the whole army could be thus."

The faun's jaw tightened, locking into place as she swiftly turned her eyes away. Glancing only briefly to the one who could say as he willed to her, Vaeron, she let her eyes wander back around the camp. Fast and furious now the words flew on wings of heavy preperation. Humans, elves, dwarves and halflings ran in their leather armour and myriad of weapons amongst the small gatherings of kenkus preparing bows. From one direction came the whinny of horses, and elsewhere chatterings of the bird mounts known as kenkus. Fires lit the camp well and brightly, but partly they were a danger in this large camp that could become their grave. An unknown enemy, an unknown amount of warriors ... and Philomel could be responsible for all of their ends. Today, she had to be the warrior that her goddess had made her.

Slowly the faun drew to a halt, and her four companions did also. Chewing her lip with agitation Philomel finished inspecting the warriors scattering to and fro, finding their arms and mounts to prepare, and turned to the captains. Sucking in her breath she raised her chin, then began to nod.

"Fine. Fine. We have warriors coming swiftly in, and it would be best to keep them off our lands for as long as possible. Stare," she looked to the kenku, who nodded. "The infantry should be able to hold a shield wall for some time, yes?"

Stare slowly blinked, noticing the slight change in Philomel's tone, but nodded. "For some time. Support could be useful ..."

"Take half the brawlers," Philomel grunted, "Celandine should be back. Hold them off for as long as you can."

"I will take them to the field myself," the kenku rolled back her shoulders and slipped her clawed hand down to cover the hilt of her dagger. "And we will-"

"Not sacrifice yourselves," the faun said abruptly, in a full, firm tone.

It made the world quieten for a moment. Eyes - red, blue, gold, black and silver - glanced to one another. Then there were silent nods, but sighs as each one accepted, truly, that they could at one moment be meeting their deaths. It was entirely a possibility, but it had been the doubtless sacrifice that they had made in order to uphold their most base beliefs.

"Vaeron, take half the riders," Philomel said in a calmer, stiller voice. "Scout out, do what damage you can and find out where they approach from. Meanwhile Nevin and I," she gestured at the other human who had still not said a thing since exiting the tent, "Will organise the defence of this camp. Pikewomen, Speakers, Lancers ... we will need them all for this war."

Slowly she pushed a hand through the sweat-stained hair of her brow, stiff from moisture born of anxiety she had been hiding. Gently, but awkwardly, her mood less chaotic but more sorrowful since the realisation of just what they could be about to face came to her. But she had to be strong, had to be resolute. It was her who had summoned this army, her who had been determined to make this stand.

All hail the glory of mother nature. Raising a hand she waved it - a simple but direct command. Slowly, Stare inclined her head before twisting around on her clawed foot. Then, with hand still on the hilt of her small but sure weapon the kenku began to run, calling out to summon the two sections of the army she had been given temporary control over. First, the Kenku Infantry with shields of tough metal who where highly trained to hold a firm chield wall. Second, half the forces of the Brawlers, whose strength could never be denied, armed with their maces and crossbows. Calling out as she can she hailed them to her side, heading out to the north west where the incoming army was apparently to arrive. Steadily the thousand-strong Infantry would advance, creating a firm, and supposedly impassable wall as the Brawlers shot between their shields.

Vaeron remained for a single moment before grunting and straightening. Hand extending over his shoulder he dragged out his huge eklan bow. With no words he turned and left himself, heading away towards the war-whinnies of the horses. Soon, just over a hundred horses would break through the ranks of the closely knit tents and rage towards the west where they knew the camp was. Armed with bows that could be shot as skillfully from the back of a charging horse as if standing they would range in a wide scouting circle, but one full of speed and aiming to survive over dying.

Lastly, now with two captains gone, Philomel looked to the red-haired messiah of the Crimson Church. Alone with only the fox Veridian who was currently mesmerised by a brazier of flame, they awkwardly gazed at one another.

Silence extended.

"Well ..."

"You get the healers prepared and I prepare defence of the camp?" Philomel suggested.

"Fine with me," Nevin the alchemist agreed quickly. Then he too spun on heel and rushed away. Leaving the fine commander to do as she could.

The battle had only just begun.