The Thunder, before dawn
Rystil Arden said:
"I don't know. Just stick me somewhere, and by Alharra's grace I'll just try to not die. I'm actually pretty good at that, not dying. Maybe I can trick an opponent into thinking I'm a worthwhile target and trying to attack me. If you have any heavy armour, like maybe full plate, I could wear that and survive fairly well in the fray--I'm rather hard to hit with this shield and full plate. I may not be able to land any blows myself, though. The only offensive things I can do are to summon heralds of Alharra and strike in a small cone with Alharra's Blades, so I'll likely do so wherever I'm sent. The heralds are about as strong as a decently seasoned recruit, and they're also hard to defeat, but they vanish back to the Spirit after a mere half a minute with us."
Sir Terra sighs, and gets an odd expression on her face, as if there was something she wasn't quite sure if wanted to say. "
Then I shall ask you to ride with our newest knights and squires, and to guard them by Alharra's grace. There is set of parade-armor I know of that would fit you. It's a bit too hard to keep clean here, which is why it isn't being worn, but it's good armor nevertheless. I think that will serve.
Ssrian is thusly bedecked like knight, placed on a charger, and carefully strapped in so he doesn't fall. Careful arrangement conceals much of the obvious buckles, and the chaos of combat should do the rest.
The Thunder, just after dawn
Sir Aravir charges into battle, Shade's iron-shod hooves flying, the war cries and trumpet calls of the Knights Adamant ringing in his ears. Battle hymns fill the air on magic winds, bringing courage to the Knights, and keeping the droning of Dominion war-chants from their hearing. The front lines loom closer and closer, an arc of glimmering pikes, a wall of steel-tipped trees hiding the mounted tiefling commanders. Explosions of fire and lightning blast into the line just before you, injuring many, but more importantly bringing down the horse-killing wall of pikes.
The knights sweep into the breach, swords swinging, hammers crushing, blood flowing on both sides. A dominion legionnaire is skewered by a lance, a knight's horse is run through by a pike, a burned soldier staggers into the path of a morning star, a Kingsmarcher is yanked from his horse... Sir Aravir takes a few slashes to the legs, and another to his shield arm, but lays about himself with deadly fury, making as much noise as possible. Five of the Knights Adamant break through to the mounted commanders, who began fleeing before they were even engaged...
Ssrian found himself at the tail end of the charge, howling along with the other knights. They crashed into light infantry, trying to slow the swift and moble troops, an often overlooked but still deadly part of the Dominion. Swords and whips flew from the Dominion side, to be met with maces and hammers be the knights. When the whips threatened to disarm the young Kingsmarchers, Ssrian would blind them with crystals, or bring his trained mount between them, his own mental armor and fleeting servants rendering very hard to hit, and his bright armor making him too great a target to resist...
Galan found himself with a line of other arcanists, bestowing magial gifts of strength or protection on the skirmishers before they galloped out to the lines. Sighting the commanders, he could easily spy a few within range of a nice, friendly
acid arrow, or a
magic missile, and a small group that was far too tempting to leave off a
stinking cloud. Galan's
missiles and
arrows, if not immediately deadly, often provided a distraction for a Kingsmarch soldier, or even simply caused the commander to flee to a different area, leaving her command with no orders to follow...
Jillian found the range with a few regular arrows, and a few around her helped wear down the resistance he had, their arrows suddenly going from disintigrating against the air in front of him to clanging off his armor. Now was the time! Jillian knocked one of her precious
fiend-bane arrows, sighted, and loosed! It flew true and straight, striking the black-armored abomination under the jaw. He stiffens and slumps on his mount, which begins first to be restive, then starts to stomp about, then finally lunges for one of the aides...
~~~
The Rain, pre-dawn
doghead said:
Winter lets a smile of triumph play over his features.
"That is the one I want. As for killing him, I have no such intention. I want him to live as long as possible. To suffer as much and for as long as possible."
Winter glances around.
"I would like some time with him. I want him to know I have come, and seen his fall. I want some time to enjoy his suffering, to see the misery in his eyes, smell his dispair."
Winter grins happily.
"Is there somewhere quiet we could go? I want to enjoy this."
"
I can get you somewhere kinda private, but I can't leave you totally alone," the man says with a smirk. Winter greases his palm again, as expected, and Darvekis is hauled from the pit and bound. The small group is led to a half-finished summoning pit, and two guards remain at a discrete distance.
"
Come to make me tender for your master, demon dog?" Darvekis opens pleasently, the smiling expression on his face revealing he intends to get hit for his troubles.
Off to the side, the antlered tiefling woman and Ebony seem to be hitting it off fairly well. She is, by all appearances, seducing him. Then again, if Ebony were the kind of man to be seduced in public by one of his enemies, he wouldn't be on this mission. She seems to be disinclined to wait for the comforts of a tent, and the prospect of fresh meat combined with the show of a viscious beating has apparently roused her appatite.
