Fantasy All is Lost

[SaphireTsuki]

Mangetsu nodded slightly at the general. So, she would help the child until she could prove herself. Myrah, was it? When the youngling offered her hand Mangetsu was at a loss. Was this some sort of custom? Oh, yes, it was the human 'handshake'. She gently wrapped the younger woman's hand gently in her paw, lifting it up just a fraction, and down just as much. "I am certain we will." Was the (relatively) quiet reply. Looking much like someone who is pleasantly surprised, as Myrah seemed unharmed, she walked carefully behind the youngling. It might not be bad to play the giant for her, if only because she seemed interesting.

 

[Minnows]

A firm handshake the dragon had. They would make fast friends, Myrah thought. Or perhaps her desire for a close friendship had driven her to think that way, even so, Mangetsu was nice enough. Sir Pine had escorted them out of building and back outside. Myrah noticed that the day had grown dark and well into night. The moon was high and bright in the black sky, so clear it was freckled by millions of stars. For the longest of times, Myrah had grown accustomed to looking up to nothing but the pine leaves of the dense wood. And more than enough times those pines would come fluttering down and into her eye. She’d learned to squint as she looked up, but now her eyes were quite open. As they walked, she turned to Mangetsu,


“You ever look up at the stars Mangetsu? I never seen such a clear sky.” She sighed with a sort of content.

 

[SaphireTsuki]

Mangetsu nodded to the youngling. "Often since leaving our volcano have I looked at the stars of the sky." She said, her eyes shining. "Once I knew how long the travelling would take I made it a point to fly at night." It had been glorious. Certainly she was freezing the entire time, but it had been beautiful. Truly beautiful. Though, the reason she had flown wasn't for the beauty, it was to avoid humans pelting her with more arrows. Apparently there were few creatures loved in the world with scales.

 

[Minnows]

"Wish I could fly" She sighed, her gaze still up at the stars “Feelin’ the wind in your hair… an’ ya don’t have to worry about nothin’.” She blinked. “Yes, I would very much like to fly. An’ I bet all the people below look like ants and everything” She laughed, finally looking down at the cobblestone road they walked on. How good it felt to talk to somebody. She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been until she entered the keep. She realized she’d taken to talking people’s ears off.

 

[Ascension]

Torin sucked in a quick breath before grasping the nearest corpse and starting up the barricade. It was more difficult than climbing a rock face, as every time he applied pressure, there was always the constant threat that a body could come tumbling out form underneath him. A couple times he had to kick petrified limbs apart to make way, but that only succeeded in covering his boots in congealed body fluids. If it could get any more revolting, Torin did not understand how. All the same, war had been a part of his existence for as long as he could remember, and this morbid scene--while certainly disgusting--didn't particularly surprise him. For every stricken face he climbed over, he began to remember the faces of those he had seen killed in front of him.


When at last, he grasped the wooden catwalk the archers stood upon, he used his remaining endurance to vault over the rail and onto the wood with an audible thud. They were even more concealed clothing-wise than he, but with good reason. No doubt disease and infection would run rampant atop these barricades if left unchecked. Torin surmised that it probably already had a couple of times given the sheer volume of death beneath them. Torin approached the man who had originally called out to him, eventually speaking up when he was in range.


"If I cannot reach Dalenhorn from here, then so be it. I warn you: I am no good shot with a bow. My combat skills rely on close quarters and melee weapons. I'm afraid that, unless you're willing to teach me how to shoot--which I doubt you have time for--I'm not much use to you up here."


In all honesty, Torin really didn't know whether or not they had the time to recruit him. Mayhaps their situation was so poor that they really hadn't a choice. All the same, they were the first group of civilized beings Torin had the pleasure of encountering in a long time. He even bet that, given his cooperation, there might even be a clean meal or two in it as well, although he was skeptical about just how safe food on the barricades was.


***


Cass had been rubbing her staff with the same mottled rag she always did, when a startling event took hold of her attention. Indeed, very few things ever came before keeping her items polished and presentable, but this was worth watching. In all her years, Cass had never been witness to the existence of a Dragonfolk being. It was simply marvelous: first, she had been witness to the arrival of a divine creation, and then soon after the arrival of an equally mysterious being. It excited her to know that such mythical creatures were signing onto their cause, but it simultaneously made her wonder what great contribution she could give in comparison.


She was a talented medic, and no slouch of a wind mage either, but throughout her whole life, she had never really much courage or strength of her own. In fact, it could be argued her strength was her ability to feed off of the energy of her peers. If the people around her were happy, then so would she be.


The elf stood from the bench she had been perched on, and while several of her squad mates looked on, she formally approached the two figures in front of her. They seemed enraptured in their own conversation, so at the first moment of silence, the elf spoke up.


"Hello there, friends! Are you new here in Dalenhorn? Come to join our brave band of warriors, I should hope?" Although it was a grim time, she was never one to let that stop her, even when the snickers of her colleagues became audible behind her. They were more than aware of her quirks, as she had likely approached all of them the same way on their first days as well. "My name is Cassandra, by the way. You two might call me Cass if it pleases you."

 

[Minnows]

Another girl. An elf, no doubt, but a girl nonetheless. It was nice to see among the vast throng of men. She turned from her conversation to greet her.


"I'm Myrah" she said "and this here's Mangetsu. Pleased meetin' you, Cass"


The elf was truly beautiful. Myrah wondered with a bit of humor why all magic folk were blessed with such magnificence. "can ha do any magic?" she asked, still not quite used to the sort. The greatest magic she could perform was starting a fire out of some wood and dry leaves

 

[SaphireTsuki]

Mangetsu, at the mention of magic, studiously focused on not spreading her wings and flying. Of course there would be mages, this was an army, but if any of them pointed their magic sticks at her then they'd better wish.... she wasn't sure yet. Something suitably terrifying, as she herself was terrified of the strange powers of the non-dragonfolk. Once she had calmed down, a process expedited by the cheerful speech of the Pointed-Eared, Elf, they were called, female, Mangetsu decided that, with great fear and respect for the magic stick and person wielding it, to mutter a quick "Hello ma'am."


She did not much fancy being covered in rocks, though an attempt at turning her scales to fire might be amusing... except this would be magic fire, which must be a different thing. After all, no regular fires burst from a flammable object without hurting it. Even if that was just a rumor of such powers, and not something she herself had ever seen. Had she ever seen magic? No, so it must be rare.

 

[Ascension]

"Myrah and Mangetsu it is then." Cassandra was pleasantly surprised at how lovely they seemed from the outset. Given the nature of everyone trapped in Dalenhorn, it was rare to happen upon those who so quickly embraced her greetings. Even though Myrah was warm, Cass noticed a slight change in Mangetsu's demeanor at the mention of magic. Cassandra, of course, had no way of knowing how the Dragonfolk thought of magic. Perhaps she had made a mistake in being so forward, but she also didn't want her new comrades to feel as though she was hiding anything from them either.


"Yes, I practice magic. It's probably why they bothered recruiting such a combat-shy girl as myself." That wasn't entirely true. In fact, she had served with several mercenary groups prior to the beginning of the invasion. All the same, she had never had to murder another sentient creature. Her magic was capable enough to incapacitate those who stood in her way, without even having to refer to her staff which was equally as suitable. "I'm a wind mage, so you needn't worry that I'll accidentally blow us all up in the field, or anything preposterous like that."


"Are the two of you tired from your journeys? If you aren't busy, feel free join me in my tent for some food. I would offer to keep you safe from anyone who would want otherwise, but you both look startlingly more capable of defending yourselves then most of the brutes inside anyways."

 

[Minnows]

Myrah smiled. There were few here who thought her more than a scrappy pup, and she was grateful that Cass did not think her as such. She'd never seen anyone perform magic before, though she tried not to look too impressed.


"A wind mage" She echoed, her voice airy in wonderment. She chuckled at that last comment.


Myrah had also noticed Mangetsu stiffen. She could tell the draconian was a bit uncomfortable, but for what reason she could not say. She decided, though, that she'd do her best to make her feel welcome in any aspect. Mangetsu, the magnificent and fearsome looking dragon creature had the strangest air of gentleness about her, and it put Myrah off a bit to see her so uncomfortable. She looked to her new friend, and back at Cass,


"Yes, I've been travelin' a good while. I'm game if you are, Mangetsu."

 

[SaphireTsuki]

"Yes, please lead the way." Magic. At least it was wind. She could handle wind, she hoped. If not... at least the woman was on her side. And she seemed to be nice enough a woman. Such kindness did not deserve to be snuffed out of fear. I'm not going to think about the only weakness I know of of my kind right now. "I... do not know if I will eat the food you offer, however." Mangetsu knew that compared to some non-dragonfolk she ate quite a lot. "It has nothing to do with you, I merely do not wish to clean you out."

 

[Jiggly]

Night had descended upon Welandire, and that had been very clear to those stationed at Dalenhorn. The sky was cloudless, with silver stars shining through the black skies. While the fortress could house nearly thirty thousand troops, the legions gathering at the battlement almost tripled that number. This left thousands of tents on the lower floors of Dalenhorn, along with ones being plotted about the small plains that led up to a ten-foot tall cave entrance that led through the mountains at the back of Dalenhorn. These caverns, through several miles of rock, finally opened up to the rest of Ramsvald. Every soldier that had entered Dalenhorn from the east had come through his tunnel, and enough room was open throughout the grasslands leading up to the fortress for another fifteen thousand troops. Any other leftover troops were, unfortunately, camped at the western gate of Dalenhorn, which of course, was the same direction as Krodarr’s hordes, even though they were hundreds of miles away.


Sir Pine, while escorting Mangetsu and Myrah, were stopped by an elf. The officer was not too fond of the pointy-eared folk, even if their women were rather attractive to men such as himself. They were mysterious peoples of the woodlands, and Sir Pine was akin to the human lifestyle of cities and towns. He stood there patiently as the two recently-recruited women were offered food at the elf’s tent. “You two may go if you wish. Meet me back here in an hour and I’ll escort you both to your room. If you are not here in an hour, you’re sleeping out in the cold,” Sir Pine said sternly, his eyes fixated on the three women.


_,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,_


“It’s fine; we have melee soldiers that defend the barricades as well. We’re just on watch right now. Krodarr usually attacks with a sizeable force, rather than ones that only bring us a small skirmish. I didn’t catch your name by the way. Mine’s Azeuo—leader of the men on the barricades. I know we don’t have much, and our attempts at defense have been meager at best, but these are desperate times, and these men will do anything to protect their homes and their families. But you must’ve been traveling for a while, and you’re probably tired. Feel free to take a rest in one of the big tents behind the barricades. There’s plenty of free bedrolls open for use,” the man said, his voice still muffled by the cloth over his nose and mouth. “And if you’re sleeping and you hear some odd noises, just ignore them. Krodarr’s beasts have been filling the night with their howls.”

 

[Ascension]

Torin leaned closer to the man as he spoke, trying his best to make out the muffled words. As the captain fired off information about the guard, the barracks, and the tents he intended on sleeping in, Torin did everything he could to not simply ask the man to shut up. It wasn't because of any grudge he held personally, but the way the captain spoke made it almost sound as though they hadn't relinquished their hope yet. Surely, Torin knew this simply couldn't be the case: there was no logical way anyone could truly hope to stand against the legion of monstrosities that had plagued Helshmire for years. Certainly, the only explanation for their coalition was their individual desires to live another day. There was nothing else that mattered--at least, Torin thought so.


The more Azeuo spoke, the more Torin began to realize that he truly believed that the barricades would defend the "families" everyone was fighting so hard to protect. Torin surmised their ignorance would be their downfall after-all, but he wasn't about to voice that opinion to the man who offered him a bed and a meal. They could go on living their fantasy, for all Torin cared. When Krodarr's creatures eventually got through--and they would--Torin would be long gone.


"My name is Torin. I'll take up your offer on that bedroll, but should you need my blades, I prefer to be the only one handling them." With that, Torin sauntered down the other side of the barricades and made for one of the large tents. True to Azeuo's words, several empty bedrolls were already in position. Torin removed most of his armor, with the exception of his arm-guards, and made for what he expected to be another restless night.


***


The third soldier had remained out of Cass's sight, and his sudden voice almost caused her to jump from her boots. She hadn't realized they were on a tight schedule, but was glad to hear they had time for a quick meal before they needed to be elsewhere.


"Well you needn't be shy; the dining area for the troops is less than informal." True to her word, Cass led the group not thirty feet down the road to the designated meal area. Inside the large canvas tent were rows of tables, each adorned with various degrees of silverware. Most of the soldiers used their own knives to handle their food, which was, quite honestly, more sanitary than the alternative. Cassandra headed to an area within the dining room she was most familiar with, plucking a husk of bread from one of the many baskets that serviced the soldiers. Before finding herself a seat, however, she also appropriated a wooden bowl. One of the serving-women within the tent then filled the bowl with a ration of some meaty broth. Cassandra had made a point to get to know the names of the serving girls, which always had benefits when it came time for her meals.


"Thank you Meliss. Have a lovely evening." The girl was gaunt from want of nourishment, but otherwise quite pretty. Cassandra compulsively began to finger her own bangs at the thought of this fact. However, she was more hungry than vain: plopping her body down at the nearest bench. Cassandra then waited for her new-found colleagues by swirling the congealed broth with the butt of her bread loaf, and whistling softly to herself. It wasn't a glorious feasting hall, but it did keep everyone alive, and she supposed that counted for something.

 

[Minnows]

"that's a fancy trick ya did there," Myrah's voice was raised to speak above the crowd as came to the table, taking a seat across from Cass. She wore a sly smile and her eyes were lit with laughter. "Never knew kindness could get ya too far in a place like this." she glanced at her filled bowl before turning to look at the crowd. A dirty bunch they were, mostly men. She recognized the man she spoke to earlier in the day, sitting with his friends, but most of the faces were foreign to her. "a rough bunch in here, eh?" she observed mildly.

 

[SaphireTsuki]

Mangetsu had followed silently behind them, accepting a small bowl of the stew with a nod of thanks. Rather than sitting on the benches in the hall she decided to sit towards the end of one of the tables, tail curled around her front like a cat. It wouldn't do for someone to trip over her tail while walking around. And if they tripped... well, one of the spikes might have hurt them, if they were near the tip. "Kindness is never unrewarded, I see." Her quiet comment came at the end of Myrah and Cass' exchange, her eyes gazing at them from her seat.

 

[Jiggly]

“Why do you stray away from me, Torin?” The supernatural voice had returned, its boisterous echoing of a thousand demonic languages booming through the head of the blood mage as he slept. Before the human was complete and utter darkness, its form dispersing however. Clouds of blackness cluttered together to form a monster of giant proportions—nearly thirty feet tall. The creature still retained the shape of the demonic entity in his last nightmare though, but it no longer dripped blood from the Pool of Khauldain.


The arms of the abomination began to manifest once again from the darkness, shooting out of its bubbly, black anatomy and surrounding Torin. They coiled about him, clenching his insides together almost as if the creature threatened to make him explode with a final squeeze. Torin, as pain rolled over his senses, saw the giant bend down before him, its massive face staring at him with all-black eyes and a sewn math.


Through the stitches, the thing seemed to smile at him. But its eyes suddenly erupted in fire, the inferno stretching out over the hundreds of colossal arms surrounding Torin, wreathing them in unstoppable flame. “WHY DO YOU RESIST, MORTAL?” The creature screamed, even though its mouth was sewed shut. The power of its supernatural vocal chords began peeling the skin from Torin’s face and neck like that of an orange. The winds lasted for a while, gnawing at exposed bones as the arms began tighten.


But still, Torin resisted. And so Krodarr gave in. “And so you will feel my wrath, practitioner of Khauldain’s gifts,” Krodarr whispered, the fire in his eyes dying as they became solid mirrors.


Torin’s reflection resembled him somewhat, but there was one unique difference: this Torin wore no bandages, his wounds spilling out blood without care, and his eyes overflowing with his own gore. The mirror image of Torin grinned at him, exposing sharp teeth lathered with the blood of foes.


And so the nightmare ceased, and Torin awoke to the shaking of his body by an external force.


“Sir Torin! Wake up! We need you!” A soldier of the barricades shouted over the overwhelming booms of howls and roars that emitted from the vocal chords of non-human entities. He stopped shaking Torin after he saw it was not having the desired effect. “Get armored quickly! We don’t have much time!”


As the soldier finished his orders, he sprinted out of the tent, leaving the flap of the tent open. The soldier who had just spoken to Torin was soon skewered by a gigantic ballistae bolt that rained down from the sky, descending so rapidly that it ripped into the earth below by going through the chest of the soldier, leaving him suspended in air on the dark wood. Blood gurgled forth from his mouth as his intestines tried their best to escape the hole created by the massive bolt. And so he died there, right in front of the eyes of Torin.


Screams thundered through the encampment, and Torin, simply lying in his tent, could feel the ground shake beneath him.


It seemed Krodarr was no longer playing games with the people of Helshmire.


_,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,_


Who would have thought the proud leader of the men of the barricades would have broken down before his men? Who would have thought him to be the man to fall to his knees and pray to the Five Constructors that his family be safe? None of his men had thought him to be that man. But he was. Men were always much different than they were made out to be once real terror was forced down upon them.


Before Azeuo was the inevitable of the barricades: their destruction. Red and black hordes of undead and demonic beings stretched for miles north. In the distance, through teary eyes, Azeuo could see the inferno that was the southern half of the Tyrill Forest. The constant booming of the vocal chords of the monsters echoed through Azeuo’s head like a broken record. It was so loud—the intimidation roars of well over one hundred thousand monsters.


On the barricades, men scrambled for extra arrows as their bodies trembled with adrenaline and utter fear. “KHAULDAIN HAS COME!” A man screamed as flaming boulders fired forth from catapults rained down on the barricades, sending men into oblivion and erupting hundreds of rotting corpses into the air.


Azeuo still prayed in hushed whispers as the wall of dead surrounding him tore apart under the heavy will of the incoming boulders. And then something made the leader stop his religious attempts at survival. The beat of Krodarr’s legions began to reverberate in his ears, a continuing tune that ceased to end.


“Ahl kroll lok vring!” The abominations (most of them being armored ghauls) roared, repeating it over and over again, beating their fists against their plated chests. Drums beat in the distance.


The general of the men of the barricades, what was left of them anyways, still crouched on a part of the wall of corpses not yet raised. He stood slowly, looking over the wooden fence for the first time after the chanting had begun. Azeuo, with tears streaming down his face and fear from the core of his soul overwhelming him, leapt over the railing of the wooden post, catching the arm of a lifeless body half way down before continuing the rest of the fall.


He landed safely on the ground, but it was shaking beneath him. The power of the chanting was growing until it reached a climatic point, all of the beasts howling with abandon at once that sent them into a crazed fury. The ghauls charged forward, jumping into quadrapedal stances as they bolted across the fields, growling and spewing thick saliva from their maws.


Other men had followed Azeuo after he had vaulted the railing. Now, over two hundred men stood in front of the barricades, unsheathing swords, maces, or any other weapon they had gotten their hands on. Azeuo was one of the last to pull out his two-handed flamberge, wielding it tightly in one hand as he raised it to the sky. “WE DIE NOW MEN! BUT FOR ALL WE LOVE! FORWARRRRD!” Azeuo screamed, suddenly sprinting forward and gripping the flamberge in both hands.


His boots sunk into the blood-filled fields like a thin layer of muck, but he continued on, charging with all the energy he had left. A ghaul was approaching him dead on, snarling like a god damn wild animal as it burst forth from its four-legged stance, tackling Azeuo to the ground. The two rolled about on the grass for a few seconds before Azeuo regained his footing, bringing his flamberge down through the chest of the armored ghaul. The general gritted his teeth, stepping over the first ghaul corpse as two more charged him.


Azeuo took a step back with his right foot, barely evading the dive of a ghaul that attempted to tackle him once more. He then rolled to the right, dodging the other incoming ghaul. He stood up immediately though after the roll, adrenaline coursing through his veins like no other. Both ghauls had stood up by now, their eight foot tall configurations encroaching upon him slowly as they grinned wickedly.


One swiped a claw at Azeuo’s face, but the general ducked the black-skinned hand, coming up underneath the ghaul’s arm and thrusting through the undead being’s ribs, sending it yelping and sprawling to the ground as Azeuo unsheathed his blade from its interior. Azeuo turned to his right directly afterwards, screaming as the second ghaul came upon him, flailing its arms like clubs. The captain held up his flamberge, letting the tough-skinned forearms of the ghaul bounce off the steel. He waited for the stamina of the ghaul to drain before pushing forward with his blade, making the creature stumble backward slightly. Azeuo then proceeded onward, planting the bottom of his right boot on the chest of the ghaul, forcing it to the ground. “AHHH!” Azeuo bellowed, striking his massive sword down into the ghaul’s undead flesh. It screeched, and for a second, Azeuo found himself victorious. At least, until a twelve-foot tall blood fiend tackled him with such power from behind, his spine instantly broke.


The general cried in agony as he fell atop the lifeless ghaul beneath him, his body instantly paralyzed as the dagger-like claws of the blood fiend above him began tearing into his open back. Azeuo screamed and screamed, the flesh from his back being torn apart like paper until the demonic being tore through him, ripping him in half vertically for good sport.


Blood spewed through the air, cries of death following. The men of the barricades were being slaughtered, and reinforcements were not coming. They were on their own with a legion of Krodarr annihilating their numbers.

 

[Ascension]

The Fall of the Barricades


Torin


The immense shaking beneath Torin was what eventually pulled him from another restless sleep and back into reality. The guard who had so brusquely woke him almost earned Torin's groggy wroth, and would've had he not promptly been skewered like a human shishkebab. Torin watched on, unphased for a time until the reality of the situation struck him. The smell of blood, fire, and death assaulted his senses all at once, causing him to bolt from the burning tent, and recover his gear with as much agility as he could muster. As he strapped on his boots, plate, and sword belt, Torin attempted to scramble to the top of the barricades. What he saw below was nothing short of nightmarish. For a moment, he pondered the idea that he might still be asleep, but as much as he wished that was the case, there was simply no way.


Damnit...


Torin was about to vault over, when the familiar voice of the Barricade's captain, Azeuo came thundering from below. Torin halted his descent to listen, and watch. The next few moments were critical in his practical decision making process: if Azeuo was half a leader, they stood a chance of a civilized retreat.


“WE DIE NOW MEN! BUT FOR ALL WE LOVE! FORWARRRRD!”


You mean, you're going to die now.


True to his statement, Azeuo's reckless blood lust lead to an unfavorable demise at the hands of a demon Torin had never had the privilege of seeing in person. He had read all he could in his travels of Khauldain's brood, and from description alone he deduced it to be none other than a blood fiend. Regardless of whether or not his assumption was correct, Torin did not intend to meet the creature at all. Even if he did join the battle, he would have to reveal his magic, and he had no doubt that if they knew than he would have more enemies amongst the guard than friends.


Torin had drawn his blades, but in the glow of the advancing inferno, the blacksteel seemed to hum in resonance with the bloody destruction around it. He could've helped. Perhaps he even could've led a few to safety. Instead, Torin watched in silence as men were ripped to pieces in a cascade of blood and gore. Instead, he sheathed his swords. The barricades were tall, and a host of men still kept the demons at bay. In the throngs of confusion, he could begin traveling West, and hopefully, by traveling perpendicularly to the host of enemies, escape the advancing demons. Taking off, Torin disappeared into the night, covering himself in the gore and garments of the corpses he passed to throw off his scent should the demons have caught it.


As the tents and fire began to fade in the distance, Torin at last thought himself far enough out to begin descending down the side opposite to the oncoming army, sliding through the pile of bodies for a time before his feet hit the ground once more. In the shadow of the wall, he dashed onwards, refusing to look back. By his calculations, intervening would've meant death or capture, neither of which he wanted any part with. Besides, he didn't owe those men anything.


Torin wasn't a hero. He never claimed to be. Torin was simply a survivor, and no amount of 'honor' or 'duty' was going to put him in the ground before his time.


***


Dining Room Shenanigans


Cassandra


At the mention of the value of kindness, Cassandra hid her confusion with a smile. She had always been overtly kind to those around her: any less, and she would've been disrespecting them. At least, that's how she justified her quirky personality. She had only known the two women for a short time, but even so, she was already becoming closely interested in them. They were a little different than the average lug who wandered into camp, and were certainly more receptive to her greetings.


"I have always found that you can't let the circumstances of the world affect who you are or how you behave. I just try to remain decent in an indecent time. As you can see, people haven't forgotten what a kind word or gesture feels like, they just are less used to receiving them. There is always value in kindness."


Cass ripped apart her bread and began to noisily devour her meal. After sucking back the first bowl of soup, she looked at her table mates.


"So, where are you guys coming from? I'll admit I've never seen any real dragonfolk before, and its taking all my strength to not bombard you with queries about your homeland." Cass smiled, leaning back into her chair in anticipation of their responses.

 

[Minnows]

Myrah


That was a good question. Myrah thought a moment. Where was she from? She'd spent more time travelling than she had in any one location including the place she was born, and she didn't want to talk about the village. The last thing she needed was the pity of her fellow soldiers when she'd gotten over the tragedy years before. After some consideration she decided to go with a simple answer.


"I'm from nowhere really," She sort of laughed. "Been travellin' most of my life" She, however was more inclined to hear Mangetsu's story as it seemed to promise a more interesting tale. She turned to the Dragonfolk. "An' you?" She asked.


***


Eren


The smell of blood was in the air, and Eren could hear the sounds of battle in the distance as he settled in a small shelter in the wood that night. The clash of metal on metal, shrill screams of the wounded and dying. He opted not to continue his travels until the battle had ended. Though, his sleep would be slightly disturbed that night, he only considered setting the whole wood on fire for a moment, and mostly as a joke. He chuckled to himself. Wouldn't that be a sight?


His initial plan to spend this night at the barricades had clearly been delayed, though he was glad not to have come a few days earlier. A long night of fighting had not been in his plans, at least not until he'd reached his destination, and Dalenhorn was hundreds of miles away. He figured some sort of a fight was unavoidable, as this road was long and full of perils, but nonetheless, he was glad to avoid this battle. He set up his camp for the night, all in the dark. He figured putting up a fire was a risk he wasn't willing to take. He was far enough away from the battle but the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself.


He lay down on his back, gazing upwards through patches of leaves through the dense wood. The night was dark, and the sky starless and black. Clouds. There could be a rain coming soon. He felt it in the wind.

 

[SaphireTsuki]

Mangetsu looked between the elf and the human, confused why they would want to know of her home. Once she realized that her kind were rare, however, she dipped her head in an accepting manner. Yes, she would tell them, but there wasn't much to say. "We live in a volcano, I know not it's name in the human tongue. The land is pleasantly warm, and we often flew over it's peak to watch the world. I do not think many non Dragonfolk would be able to survive there, however, for more than a short time." It would be nice if they could, because then they could journey and see we were not a threat.

 

[Jiggly]

The clouds above Ghaulspire trembled at the power of Krodarr. The immortal of Khauldain was upon his knees at the pinnacle of the black tower with his clenched fists crossed in an ‘X’, his all-black eyes peering up at the sky, making them nearly roll back into his skull.


Energy whirled around him—darkness, electricity, fire—like a tornado, swirling upward and upward until it met with a whirlpool of clouds. Short bursts of electricity protruded out from the obscured sky above, letting the booms of thunder echo throughout the Mountains of Ghordum.


The ears of Krodarr suddenly became silent however, his body blocking out the sounds that bellowed around him. One aspect then began to form in his mind: a voice—a voice he was all too familiar with.


“My son,” it whispered in a thousand languages. “It is time. Bring forth Zelwark to lead your armies.”


Krodarr nodded his head, his eyes exiting the trance of his meditation. His head lowered, allowing the immortal to look out over the northern lands of Helshmire. They were all black, and Krodarr’s immortal vision allowed him to see the tiniest glints of light from the flames of The Barricades so far away.


“So be it, my lord,” Krodarr said within his mind, standing up from his kneeled position. The energies around him began to dissipate slightly, but they kept the articulation of the beam without him. The immortal of Khauldain had been meditating for several weeks now, and the energies manifested from his power would be able to sustain themselves without his anatomy being present.


And so the bare-footed, ebony-skinned devil that was Krodarr began meandering down several dozen flights of stairs. He passed by hundreds of various demons and undead, but as he reached the lowest and most desolate levels of Ghaulspire, Krodarr came to the Black Ostium—the thirty-foot tall gateway of black Ghordum metal. They were protected by the two guardians of the Blood Pool of Khauldain: the Daemonum.


Each Daemonum stood nearly twenty-five feet tall, their humanoid silhouettes adorned with gaunt, pale flesh. Great, bat-like wings were folded behind their shoulders. Eyes of white stared down at Krodarr, each Daemonum having dual, sable black horns atop their heads. Their massive, clawed hands were supported by heavily muscled arms that dangled at either side of the monsters. The Daemonum were clad lightly, only donning metallic greaves and pauldrons.


Krodarr ambled by them without giving them any acknowledgement. The Daemonum paid no attention to it however; they were minions of Krodarr, and had no mind of their own. The demonic duo opened the Black Ostium for Krodarr, and the immortal of Khauldain watched as the Blood Pool of Khauldain came into view before him, its red waters as still as the dead.


The ebony-skinned creature slowly entered, the Daemonum closing the gateway behind him. Krodarr approached the pool of blood, standing before it with his giant, fifteen foot spectrum. The malevolent immortal of Khauldain gazed upon the pool for a long while, watching the unwavering stillness of the sanguine liquid.


And then he fell to his knees, placing the palms of his long, black-fingered hands onto the smooth, dark, Ghordum metal floor. Krodarr’s skin began to contort violently, almost as if tiny creatures thrived beneath the immortal’s flesh, moving about relentlessly. His head was aimed down at the floor, but suddenly a supernatural gust of wind came from behind Krodarr, making the Blood Pool of Khauldain ripple and bubble, almost as if it began to boil.


Krodarr’s head shot upward, his black eyes now glazing over with a blood red hue. His face was petrified while the rest of his configuration began to seize and tremble, peculiar abominations crawling beneath his very flesh. Darkness began to shroud the large room, blood from the pool spurting upward in torrents like a hot spring. Blood overflowed the boundaries of the pool, the metal walls and floor of the room beginning to quake as Krodarr’s muscles bulged to their maximum potential.


The pool erupted at that moment, a silhouette dripping with blood blasting forth from the red. The lean creature peaked at about ten feet, a long mane of black hair—that was, at the moment, soaked in blood—streaming down its back.


As the vibrations and commotion of the room began to die down, Krodarr stood back to his feet, his ghoulish hands clasping behind him. “Welcome to Welandire, Zelwark,” Krodarr said telepathically to his new creation.


Zelwark, soaked in blood, peered at Krodarr with all-red eyes, cocking his head slightly to the left.


He grinned, blood dripping forth from his grey lips.


_,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,_


As Torin fled farther down the Barricades, screams and monstrous roars boomed in his ears. The destruction of boulders from catapults could be heard. When he left the wooden walkway of the Barricades and dropped down upon the southern side of the Barricades, he was free from most trouble. Sounds of battle still stirred a few miles away.


There were two things that would be painfully clear to Torin at this point: for starters, the Barricades were lost. The second point aimed toward the information he now knew—the armies of Krodarr stood, from what he had seen, with over fifty thousand strong, perhaps even leaning towards one hundred thousand.


Torin, after his escape, was near the eastern edge of Lake Moritain. Within a few miles, if he kept moving west, he would enter the swamplands that surrounded the lake. He would have to leave the area soon though, for Krodarr’s legions would keep advancing.


_,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,__,.•'`¯`'•.,_


Enough time had passed where the grumpy and stern Sir Pine felt inclined to approach the three women—they were an odd group with one being human, one being elf, and one being draconic in nature. “It’s been an hour ladies. I either escort you to your barracks or you sleep out in the cold. Your choice,” Sir Pine declared, crossing his burly arms over his armored chest. “Training will begin tomorrow, by the way.”

 

[Minnows]

Eren


For a reason unknown to him, Eren had assumed the downfall of Kordarr's army of mindless monsters was imminent, but their terrible screeches of battle still sounded shrill and wailing in the still night air. There was a new stir in the wind, and much more sinister. As sleep eluded him, he heard the roar of a much more formidable force. It seemed this battle had taken a turn for the worse. Sleep eluded him, and he found himself itching to leave. He would have to rest when he found a more peaceful shelter. He may not have a legitimate bed, but these barricades sounded to be out of the question, and he would rather not go knocking on their door to find out. With an exasperated sigh, the young man rose from his rest, and pressed onward through the wood, keeping as silent as possible, in the attempt of eluding unwanted followers.


***


Myrah


Quite put off by Sir Pine's warden complex, Myrah could hardly surpress the small scowl that distorted her features. Spending so much time only having to answer for herself did not make her the most obedient soldier, but she thought it best not to make a scene, even though the three of them were in the middle of a conversation. Surely he did not think them children? Slight defiance, if not more than mild annoyance was a bit clear on her face as she nodded. She stood,


“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” She bid her farewell to Cass.