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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Funeris" data-source="post: 2269778" data-attributes="member: 22792">Interlude: The Battle at Port Divi'sadWell, my intent tonight was to begin work on Chapter 1.  However, all of my notes were of roleplaying through email.  And I, being the horrible employee that I am, did it over my work email.  So, I didn't have the notes here at home.  Instead of beginning Chapter 1, I decided to take all you history buffs back in time about 30 years.  This is the story of a battle that is pertinent not just to the PC Cassock but to a later PC and quite obviously, a few NPCs.So, I hope you enjoy the "update".  Its somewhere in the vicinity of 3,000 words and will hopefully quench your thirsts. <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f600.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":D" title="Big grin    :D"  data-smilie="8"data-shortname=":D" />-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Nearly Thirty years prior…The rising sun glinted dully off the steel edging of the greatsword.  Ancient runes carved in the language of the Gods were barely visible through the dried blood and gore accumulated on the metal.  The battle-hardened warrior-priest raised the blade into the air, pressing the cool steel against his dirty brow.  He dropped to his knees in silent prayer on the field of battle.Strewn around the praying warrior’s body was thousands of quietly smoldering bodies.  Severed appendages littered the once green grass of the park.  More than a hundred thousand gallons of blood had stained the grass deep red.  For your honor my Lord…The warrior-priest bowed forward, touching his face and the blade to the earth.  Silently, his lips murmured his prayers.  The gore of the field clung to his unshaven face.  He seemed not to notice or care as he continued his prayers.This was the third day of the battle; the third day he had held his position, the third day without any rest.  Four days ago, he had been outside of the city, Port Divi’sad, preparing to lead his soldiers in the defense of the city.  They had marched from Legend, the territory that had claimed dominion over Port Divi’sad.Borders in the Kingdom of Norum da Salaex were as ever-changing as the seasons.  The Troll-ruled territory of Draat had been expanding their territory relentlessly for the last twenty or more years.  The Trolls had already devoured much of the Goblin state, Matz and were now pushing into the territory of Legend.One week ago, the warrior-priest had sworn to take back the city.  He had made this oath to the Baron, Dragos Tyne.  The men he led were not an official army and as such, were not subject to the chaotic whims of the individual Barons or the ruthless agendas of the King.  These were men dedicated to his personal causes; men that had rallied to the calls of courage, self-defense and the betterment of their own stations in life.  These men had learned the arts of war only for defense of their own families not to obtain land or riches.  These were nearly one thousand good men, and now he would have to bury and bless all but maybe ten of them.  The warrior-priest sighed as he shifted his weight slightly raising his head and allowing his tears to cleanse the blood from his face and then the earth.He had led nearly every single one of his own men to their deaths.  They would have willingly followed him into the deepest, darkest depths of the Hells if it would guarantee the safety of their families.  If the Trolls were to maintain their foothold in Legend, the regenerating beasts would likely take the entire territory.  His sorrow creased and formed a solid grimace as he stood, muscles straining wearily.Give me strength, my Lord.  In this, my final hour, bless this blade and bless my body.  They are but weak vessels for your holy might, your holy wrath.  And with them, I may send more of these fiends into your eternal embrace.  Reserve a spot at your side for me, my Lord.  Know that I died in your name, doing your will.  I died honorably and in defense of those unable to defend themselves from the wrath and hatred of Ara’kull and his minions.Bless me, my Lord.The warrior-priest kissed his blade once more, basking in the warmth of Cael’s wife Myr.  The sun was now above the eastern horizon by quite a distance.  He turned away from his homeland to stare toward the Troll camps in the west.It had been nearly five years since he had actually received the words of his Lord, Cael.  But always steadfast in his devotion, the warrior-priest prayed every night to his God.  Often, he would even pray again in the morning, hoping his words were being carried to the ears of his God.  Several times, he had felt the divine power that coursed through his veins falter.  At those moments, the spells he had been concentrating upon would fly from his mind and he would be left powerless except for the blade he carried.  Still, his devotion held and he stayed on the path he had been set upon so long ago.He noticed movement on the western horizon.  The Trolls were moving forward again.  The beasts were not fond of battling in the day’s light.  They had found that the warrior-priest actually preferred the nights as well, his power waning during the daylight hours.  It was a calculating move on their part similar to their overused tactic of throwing as many goblin slaves at him as possible before attacking with their trained soldiers.  Both tactics had failed horribly over the preceding days.  However, the Trolls had to know they would eventually wear him down.  The warrior-priest was, after all, outnumbered especially with the loss of his troops.Calmly, the warrior-priest roused the remains of his men.  He allowed them time to eat and prepare themselves as much as was necessary.  This would be their final fight together.  He was not afraid of death but he did not relish the thought of sending his few remaining soldiers to their afterlives as well.“Men,” he screamed his voice harsh and raspy from days of misuse, “You are free to go.  You have honorably served me and my God.”  He turned to look the ten, ragged men in their eyes.  “I will not bind you to my own fate.  You must each choose your own path.  Each of you has a family to watch over.  Your place is with them and not at my side.  I suggest you leave while you can.  The Trolls will be here in a matter of hours.”  The warrior-priest pushed the two bleached locks of white hair back behind his ears.  In that position, the long, white curls clashed with the short black hair that was cropped closely to his head.  He smiled grimly, realizing that in battle they must look like gleaming horns spinning and attacking his victims.  “You’re dismissed!”  He turned away from their nearly empty camp and looked to the horizon, to his own death.“Sir.”  A young sergeant tried to pull him from his reverie.  He was unsure of the sergeant’s name.  The soldier was one of his quieter men.“Yes.”“I think, sir, I speak for all of us.  Our place is at your side.  This is the best way for us to take care of our families.  And not just our own families, but those left fatherless and brotherless by this war.  If we do not stop the Trolls, sir, then who will?”  The sergeant stepped back, respectfully and returned to the breakfast fires.  The warrior-priest smiled.Cael, do not fail us now.The warrior-priest spun on his heel.  “Men.  Today we die.  Let our deaths not be in vain.  There is nothing to fear from an honorable death.  Cael will embrace each and every one of us into his arms.  And he will devour the souls of our enemies!  Into your positions!”  The soldiers formed up alongside and behind the war-priest; five to each side creating an inverted vee pattern.The Trolls had stopped two hundred feet away.  The warrior-priest noted the prominence of the diminutive Goblin slaves making the first rank.  In the middle of the front rank was a line, maybe ten Trolls wide.  "This is a new tactic," the warrior-priest grunted silently.  “Ready your arrows!”  Each of his ten soldiers lit the arrows they held and then proceeded to nock the arrows in their bows.A dark speck darted from the Troll ranks, running as fast as it could.  The Goblin’s short legs weren’t built for distance as he seemed to sputter and trip at numerous points in his journey. “Extinguish arrows, men!  I believe they wish to parley.”  Cheers exploded behind him as the arrows were carefully extinguished.The Goblin toppled over as he reached the humans’ positions.  His breath was hoarse and rasping, from his full-speed run.  The warrior-priest lowered his weapon, resting the point of the blade only inches from the Goblin’s long, twisted nose.  The runt scrambled backward onto his knees, not even daring to raise his eyes.“What message do you bring, slave?”The gobber scratched his head for a moment, trying to release the memories of his orders.  Then he stood, carefully and slowly taking great pains to not look up.  “Dey sen me.”  Its common was broken and scratchy.  It motioned back toward the Trolls to get the point across.  “Dey speak:  Fierce, war-yer o’ black night, be coward.  Go to dem.  Dey let not-men go.”  The Goblin bowed his head, his transmission complete.The warrior-priest grimaced.  He looked toward the enemies’ ranks and saw the line of Trolls part.  In the center of the massive army, he could make out the distant shapes of women and children, cowering with fear.  The Trolls alongside the prisoners rose gigantic axes into the air.“And if I don’t?”The Goblin raised his head and stared directly in the warrior-priest’s eyes.  “Dey speak:  Den you see dem die.  Den you die.”The warrior-priest gritted his teeth.  “Fine.”  He sheathed his weapon and turned once again to his men.  “I am going to turn myself over to the Trolls.”  Grunts and moans arose but he cut them off with a swift gesture of his hand.  “Prepare your arrows.  If they do not release the prisoners, make them regret their dishonor.”  He turned stoically toward the enemy encampment and began the walk over with the Goblin.Twenty feet from the Trolls, the prisoners were clearly in view.  Most of the prisoners were women and children but there were a few elderly chained down as well.  One of the prisoners stood tall and straight, long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders.  Her bright blue eyes showed no mark of violation, unlike her body and clothing.  The bruises, welts and lacerations that covered her naked torso dimmed in the serenity of her eyes.  She cocked her head backward, allowing the warmth of the sun to brighten her face.He raised his eyes toward the sky as well.  One last moment of peace, he thought.  The sun had moved to its zenith and basked the gore of the field in its warm rays.  A shimmer suddenly appeared just below the sun.  A blood-red moon was speeding toward the fiery orb.Morrick, the Hand of Cael, hear my words now.  Let my power guide and stay your hand.  Gather your strength from my own.  Your fate is upon you, the last of your adventures.  But your life is not forfeit as of yet.This woman before you is your just reward for a life of service.  She is a follower of Myr and will produce an heir for you.  She is your salvation.  She will be your love and your confidant.  Protect her for your own future.  Protect her for my future.  And do as she requests.  This is your future.I bless you Morrick.The crimson moon hovered in front of the sun, casting the battlefield into darkness.  Worried murmurs arose from the Trolls.  Morrick stared downward at his blade as he crossed the remaining twenty feet.  Warmth trickled slowly down the scabbard and through his bones.  He whipped the blade out of its covering, the ancient runes glowed an unearthly blue which quickly shifted into a bright, searing red hue.The Trolls leapt backward as Morrick’s blade danced above his head, in a fast arc.  As the blade slid through the beasts, their bodies erupted into flame.  The flaming corpses stumbled backward allowing the flames to spread rapidly through the ranks.The army surged forward to close the ranks and pin the cleric.  Morrick’s men unleashed a barrage of flaming arrows into the army.  They then dropped their bows, drawing their own melee weapons and began a charge.The flaming arrows did nothing to slow the progress of the hordes of Trolls and Goblins.  Morrick grabbed the woman in white and pressed her downward onto the ground.  He spun left and right, setting more of the creatures ablaze with the glowing sword.The warrior-priest screamed in rage as the tides kept pouring toward him.  He saw his men trying to hack their way through the ranks to join their leader.  Claws and blades hacked into his body as he fell forward, over the young woman.  Blood poured from the multiple lacerations, his eyes were dulling.The woman stared up at Morrick’s face.  She raised her hands, gently caressing his face.  A bright light gushed from her hands.  Morrick felt his wounds close and his vitality return.  He stood straight and glared at the ranks surrounding him.The horde broke momentarily as Morrick raised the greatsword toward the sky.  A fluid black energy poured from his body, engulfing the sword.  Morrick felt divine energy coursing through his veins.  He brought the blade down and pointed it at his enemies.  A divine radius of black energy sped outward decimating the rival army.Morrick collapsed to the ground.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------When Morrick opened his eyes, he was staring into the face of the woman he had been protecting.  He jumped upward, a pain in his back keeping him earthbound.  Quickly he glanced to each side.A devastating scene spread around his prone form.  All of the Trolls and Goblin slaves lie in burning heaps.  The grass itself was stained and charred.  He struggled to search the wreckage for his men, but her gentle hand pulled his gaze upward.“Your men are fine, as are the prisoners.  The bolt of energy destroyed your enemies and passed harmlessly through your allies.  My Goddess was impressed.”“You speak of Myr, do you not?”“Yes.  She has asked me to accompany you to back to Legend.  Our union is foretold in the stars Morrick, Hand of Cael.”Morrick grunted.  He sat up to better take her beautiful countenance.  “I know of this prophecy as well.  I thank you for your aide on the field.  Without you…”“Without me, dear Morrick, there is no future for you or any of us.  Come,” she extended a hand and lifted him to his feet.  “Let us leave this place of death and begin our lives anew.”</blockquote>

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