To Paint the Sky with Blood (More orcs are coming!)

[Kalinda]

12th Brightening of Winter, Era XIII Post Fractum

Morning

They arrived just as the darkening made way to the brightening. They had marched across the mountains, through fields that were covered with snow, had destroyed one or two small settlements on the way there, for fun, because it was in their nature – or maybe because they had simply been hungry. They had received word that their own kind had taken the city over and that much of its previous inhabitants were dead. They’d also realized that the human Empire would send its soldiers as soon as the news spread. The new masters of Paxia would need support, and the orcs of Paxia were willing to give that support. They’d change the world forever.

They were just marching through the woodlands, closer to the city where the soldiers, the West Wardens and the Legion were standing, attempting to lay siege to the now orcish city. There were more than two thousand of them, black and green skinned orcs, all armed. On their way through Vortex and the surrounding areas they had captured humans, dracons, dorins, halflings, ratta and a few giants that were carrying tree trunks and large rocks that they would use as weapons. Those that were trying to defend Paxia against the orcish horde would soon find themselves caught between two groups of enemies, without an easy way to escape. They’d soon curse the brightening they had been born.

Messengers were sent to Paxia so that the chieftain would know that help was on the way, that those that had shattered the chains of slavery had come to join them, that not all the orcs in Vortex were cowards that wore clothing made by humans and claimed to be civilized citizens of the Empire. Some of those messengers would likely not make it, the West Wardens would find out that something was going on before too long – maybe they had already found out – but did it matter? There was no way they would be able to stop the inevitable.

Old magic was at work. The orcs felt a call that was stronger than all the laws of the Empire, stronger than anything else in the world. It was their blood that was calling out to them, half buried memories, remnants of the past, the awareness that they had never been meant to be slaves to the human Empire or the vysstichi underground. They were meant to fight, to murder, to kill, to steal, to rape, to take whatever they wanted to take.

They’d fight with all they had. They’d paint the sky red with blood.

[Amber Brightwing]

Amongst the people from various races that were coming along with the orcs, their was a single Faerie flying above the green skinned troops. Amber had not been taken prisoner as most none-orcs, but had voluntarily chosen to tag along with the war band. She still didn’t know for sure why she had chosen to follow them. Curiosity would probably be the biggest reason. It was one thing to read about the destruction of Narim by a few thousand of orcs in the Herald, but it was another to see it with her own eyes.

When she been younger, she had always imagined battles where the defenders fought heroic to their last breath trying to save what was theirs while they were flooded by the forces of evil. Reality had caught up with her in the last few eras though, and she no longer expected to battles to be as epic as before – although the ideas hadn’t completely faded away yet. She had seen a few small skirmishes by now, nearly all of them in the last few days, and they had proved to be very entertaining at times, be it in a somewhat different way then the stories she had heard as a child. It had made her wonder even more what a large scale battle would look like, so, a bit in the spur of the moment, she had decided to tag along with the army of orcs marching on Paxia.

She was now flying well above the right flank and followed the horde below. Even though she was curious, she wasn’t stupid. She had seen how orcs treated the other races and she didn’t feel like ending up as an appetizer.

[Surge]

It had been a long, long time since the Khardran War Machine.

Yet even old cogs could be greased, mechanical bolts oiled. The Orcs from Vortex were descendants from a proud race, a race that had faithfully ruled what had once been the largest Empire thrown together on the continent. Their ancestors were ones of pride and victory; the progeny of what fruitful labor and hard dedication brought. Somewhere along the way, they had missed that. Somewhere along the way, humans, Vysstichi, elves, it did not matter…all had enslaved them. To tie them down. To deprive them of their naturally-born right, to deprive them from surmounting these cruel oppressors and growing to their fullest potential. These humans, they were afraid. They did not want to be vanquished, did not want the tables to turn, to be the oppressed.

It was too late for them now.

Some of the messengers had not made it through the breaches and gates of Paxia. Certainly not the latter half, whom had been easily intercepted by the West Wardens. But the earlier ones, yes, they had avoided detection. Partially because the West Wardens were too busy setting up camp, and partially through the clever and cunning that the Orcs in Paxia were being forced to rely on. Messengers were being interchanged. Most of the Orcs who made it in through the city walls allotted to stay as opposed to try and penetrate the Wardens once more.

But there was one in particular who was let free.

Gurg Thung, one of the few slaves who had harbored a little more intelligence than the rest of his kinsmen, was dispatched earlier that faithful brightening. Equipped in merely his brown tattered clothes, a rusted hand axe, a small crossbow, and a woodland cloak given to him by the Chieftan within Paxia, supposedly a tool that would assist him from being detected by the West Warden scouts. Gurg did not believe it. He did not rely on petty things like cloaks to keep him from being seen. Within the depths of Har’oloth, within the dark shadows and recesses of those caves; oh yes, he knew how to keep to himself.

He arrived to the marching band of Orcs briskly; still some miles south of Paxia, he felt little trepidation in approaching them in the open. He bore in his hand that rusty hatchet, raised as a sign of truce, speaking out to his brothers in that thick and grunting tongue.

“Ju stop, I got message from da chieftan there. Where be da leader here?” questions would be asked, a parchment would be handed over.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Dark clouds gathered over the port city Paxia, now nothing but an ugly mess of smoldering ruin as great fires ravage the city in its entirety. As suddenly as they had come, all life had been literally snuffed out as the Orcs from Narim had done their deed. But in truth nothing could compare to the scale of death that Avanthar had brought to the unsuspecting, easily fighting off what defenses there were as he completely decimated scores of guards, contesting against Masters and whatever else Paxia set against him.

Wave after wave of blue flames had been sent, engulfing homes and businesses as they were consumed hungrily. Corpses littered the streets, some charred and carrying the sickly smell of human flesh. Standing in the centre of what was once Paxia’s busiest street, the dark caped Lord stood with crossed arms, sensing the change in weather as the sea winds whipped his mask of cold steel. Encased in black armor as his powerful sword protruded from the blasted street, its red fiery glow pulsing in an evil light, around him gathered the Brotherhood who likewise endured the silence of it all.

Caring little about the Orcs that rampaged the city still, Lord Avanthar Dra’Aran carried his powerful aura about him as it coiled in its dark tendrils. Many sought to avoid him and his closest, fearing the power that he could unleash at any moment. Closing his eyes as time passed slowly, the slaughter had eased his mind as he sought to reclaim the moment, the thrill of destroying yet another Allerian city. His trademark Shadow Flare had caused a great crater in the merchant district…

This was but one of the many battles that would come as he continued to bring about mass death in the hopes of not only satisfying his end of dark pact with Jalat, yet also ridding Jorel of much power from the dreaded Pox. Again he felt the solitude of fighting battles that was far beyond petty mortal squabbles. As his mind cleared as his senses spread, he could feel the gathering force of life moving towards his direction, whether it be from the army he did not know. It was too soon… but even then he feared them not.

Knowing that the Imperials would soon reach Narim, the days of Paxia were soon drawing to a close. With one fluid movement Nemesis was in his hands once more as he moved with purpose and powerful strides, the Brotherhood in their dark hoods and keen blades followed behind. Azumi too was there, following in her father’s footsteps as her striking smile was directed to the blood thirsty Orcs that mingled upon the desolate streets. Even her simple smile chilled their souls.

[Shorty]

Nexus Prime Army Headquarters
Morning

Imperatis Vincent Terrenil stood over the map of Paxia with staff officers and the commander of the West Wardens, Major Akhenaten. He was speaking while gesturing at the walls of Paxia.

"Scouts are saying that the orcs are not guarding the walls of the city Imperatis... They seem to be more intent on destroying the city than to deal with us."

"A mistake that they will regret no doubt," The commander of the Northern Guard squinted at the map, pointing at the wooden markers that showed the Nexus Prime forces location. "We can wait no longer, we must seize the initiative. Any word on survivors?"

"Nothing is for sure, however the Paxian flag is still flying above the citadel..." The Major said hopefully.

"Hmm...Without us they don't stand a chance. We must attack the city tonight!" The Imperatis paced back and forth, deep in thought. Finally he decided to outline his plan. "Let us let the catapults work on the walls, make us some gaps where we can enter the city easily and keep those orcs' heads down! The scouts and West Wardens will wait until darkening to approach the main gate, securing an entryway for the two covi of infantry under Provost Polimanus' command The covi of archers will be assisting this initial thrust. The calvary will be under my command and will be held in reserve until we can deliver the crushing blow!

"Hopefully we can push those bastards against the citadel and squeeze them to death!" The Imperatis hung his head down. "Or at least what we can hope for. Make no mistake gentlemen this will be the hardest fight of our lives."

"What of the messengers that we've intercepted? Do you think there's another force approaching?" The major asked, accepting the Imperatis' glare.

"If that is true, that is why we must strike before we are trapped. Paxia will be avenged."

[Shorty]

Inside Paxia
mid-morning

Hangovers were shrugged off and the problem of the Citadel became readily apparent. Jrral'hra, shaman and commander of the horde, walked the streets escorted by bodyguards and supplicants. Bodies littered the streets, and fires still smoldered and smeared the air with smoke. The Shaman frowned at the structure, knowing that time had come to decide this annoying question. The giant orc turned around and snarled at the shriveled cursed eunuch that attended him.

"Slave! Rams, how many?" He barked in common.

"Many have been destroyed but it will take time to build more."

Jrral'hra thought for a moment. To his left one of his commanders stood awaiting orders. The shaman switched to their native tounge

"Salvage what you can from the Paxian defences- catapults, ballistae, anything not destroyed. You have three candlemarks, take a thousand males....leave me." Jrral'hra squinted at the Citadel, then snarled at it. It would burn to the ground tonight if it's the last thing he did... He almost thought he could see a single figure standing up there...looking back at him.

West Wardens
mid-morning

A band of mounted warriors snaked through the wilds south of Paxia, nine in number, they were sent to investigate the lay of the southern flank. The leader, a Pantheri corporal, raised his fist and brought the patrol to a stop. Someone was running this way.

"What's that?" He whispered.

From the brush an orc messenger burst through at a sprinting speed.

"Get him!" The corporal shouted.

Vortex Horde
mid-morning

Gurg Thung gave the message from Jrral'hra

"Imperial Forces outside Paxia. Big stone throwers cause big kills of warriors. Keep hidden until tonight and attack their catapults in the rear. So says Jrral'hra, Bree’krk's second."

[Shorty]

Dusk
Imperial HQ
For candlemarks the Imperial forces pelted Paxia with their artillery, busting wholes in the walls at strategic points where the infantry would attack through. Boulders, arrows, flaming pitch was launched as the soldiers began to ready their gear for the assault. Each Legionaire and West Warden wrote letters, relaxed, polished their blades... all with eyes on the sun. Imperatis Vincent Terrenil continued to fine tune his plans with his commanders, but as dusk began to fall everyone took their place with their units and left him alone, except for the squire that silently helped the aged veteran into his armor. Terrenil sighed as he too spotted the falling light and barked for an orderly.

"Sir?"

"Tell Major Akhenaten to get his troops into position before the darkening, a single flaming arrow will be the signal for him to attack. Got it?"

"Sir!"

The Citadel, Paxia

"They're over the wall again!" A voice sounded as the chaos of the citadel's walls had gripped the Citadel for four candlemarks now. Luckily, the besieging Imperial Forces' catapult fire prevented the orcs from accumilating much from the walls. The few catapults they dragged across the city proved difficult for them to use, until finally the Orcish Chieftain gave up and began to send troops with ladders and rams. Orcish bowman began to take positions nearby and rained arrows amongst the defender's of the citadel, even if their comrades mixed amongst them.

The last of Paxia's fighters continued to dwindle in the face of such brutality. Barely 500 were still vainly repelling attacks, the rest laid dead and dying at the feet of the survivors.

The Winged Gate, Paxia

Major Akhenaten slid on his belly at the head of the 1200 west wardens, even the calvary dismounted and joined the infantry. He raised his hand to signal for everyone to stop, they were 30 yards from a large gapping hole that used the front gate. Nearby were other holes that other West Wardens crawled towards also. It still looked lightly guarded... all they could do is wait for now.

Imperial Forces

The Northern Guard was assembling in the vineyards as the darkening approached. Two covi of infantry (2,000 men and women) and one covi of achers (800) formed in ranks, led by the human Provost Polimanus in the front. In the rear was the light and heavy calvary, led by the Imperatis himself leading the mounted warriors. His eyes watched the horizon as the light disappeared...The Imperatis nodded to a waiting archer whom dipped his arrow into the fire... and let go.

The darkening had come and a single flare of light screamed into the heavens.

The Winged Gate, Paxia

"Sir!" A man called out to the Major. The arrow! He stood, brandished his sword and yelled at the top of his lungs.

"WEST WARDENS! ATTACK!"

[Kalinda]

The message had been received by one Grom Bloodfist, a shaman, one of the few that had never considered joining the so called civilized world. He was accompagnied by Matta, the famed trollhunter and armourer who had made races that were even more savage than the orcs join the army. “Tell Jrral’hra that Grom has received the message and will hide as Jrral’hra says”, the black skinned shaman spoke. “We will strike tonight and kill them.”

With that the messenger was dismissed. It was not entirely easy to keep an army of that size, a horde of orcs that were eager to fight from attacking Paxia right now. They wanted blood. They wanted to see the humans dead. Patience had never been their strong point … and it was a surprise, a miracle that all of them followed Grom’s orders rather than just going ahead with their attack.

Evening came, and with the disappeareance of the sunlight there was movement in the temporary orc camp in the woods outside of Paxia. The orcs were getting ready. They would attack the rear, the catapults just as they had been told to. Two thousand of them came, seemingly out of nowhere, heavily armed orcs and giants carrying rocks bigger than a grown man that could kill several soldiers at once or destroy a catapult. A couple of dracons, slaves to the orcs, were flying over the camp, scouting, trying to judge the situation.

The attack had begun.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

They chose to strike at night. How wrong could they possibly be? Not only did they seek to fight against Orcs whom had far superior senses, but with the growing darkness one sinister individual grew even deadlier. Having set Paxia ablaze with the black flames of hell, his blade having feasted on the flesh and blood of innocents, the true battle had only just begun. Wrapping himself under the cloak of darkness, Lord Avanthar Dra’Aran stood upon the main streets with his great sword out, the rest of Paxia still smouldering from his recent outburst.

Something was in the air, the sense of danger pressed against him as the wraiths materialized in response to their Lord’s actions, their claws ready to tear apart any that stood in their way. In silence, Avanthar gathered his thoughts and powers as he twisted it, summoning forth the dead to do his bidding as his furious aura was used to weave a powerful spell of protection. As Spirit Armor encased him, tortured spirits empowered by furious emotions screamed silently as the Lord advanced.

Even as the arrow of flame burnt through the night sky, Dra’Aran was unafraid as he stalked towards the Winged Gate, the shadow wraiths that were impervious to anything but magic following suit as he stood, alone and ready. Raising his sword knowing that the majority of Orcs were seeking to kill what was left at the Citadel, Avanthar Dra’Aran smirked coldly as excitement began to grow stronger.

This was his chance to do battle and pit himself against the Imperial Legion himself. Facing the gate, Avanthar began to tap into the essence of shadow, mingling his vicious Vis throughout the region in open anticipation of what was to come. Silent and subtly he worked his art, ready to deliver his first blow to what he knew was an impressive army indeed.

OOC: sorry for short post

[Amber Brightwing]

It was only mid-morning and just a short march away from the Paxian gates. She had expected the horde to just push on today until they reached their goal and so it surprised her when they came to a halt. It seemed that they would be awaiting the night or at least take a short break before the fight after all. It suited her just as fine however as that meant she could still take a nap before all hell broke loose.

And of course, before closing her eyes, she would have a quick flexing of the arcanic muscles. It wouldn’t do her any harm to practice a bit in case she had to use her magic later on. The Summon Undead spell would fit nicely for that purpose and with a bit of sleep she should be able to recover nicely. Aside from that, an undead minion was always useful for one as small as she was and as she planned on staying high and dry it would give her the opportunity to toy around a bit if without needing to tap into her vis reserves.

After finding a nice tree a bit away from the horde so she wouldn’t be troubled by them she started Meditating. It was something she had done many times before, so summoning a simple skeleton shouldn’t be much of a problem. It was a shame she was limited to only two shaping techniques though. The plain old humanoid zombies and skeletons were rather boring after all. Now she had to use Conjuration to create the material shell of her skeleton and Divination to tie a spirit from the realm of Death to it and at apprentice it stopped there. Now if she could have thrown a bit of Alteration in the mix she would have been able to make something nifty looking out of it. She could have turned it into a spider-like skeleton or perhaps a combo of a giant feline with a regular human being, similar to Centaurs. At least, that was her theory. She’d have to wait until journeyman to see if it worked she imagined it, but she had confidence in it.

Once her spell was cast she would park her skeleton a bit further against another tree, letting it just lie down and play dead for now and took her nap in the tree she had been sitting in. And when the evening fell, she’d enter Clara again and fly alongside the orcish flanks, well above them and her minion would be walking below her together with the orcs.

[Verus]

Word came that the West Wardens were going to siege Paxia this darkening. The word spread threw the camp like wildfire, Wardens moved around the camp at a faster pace then usual, getting ready for the action that was to unfold later.

Finding his own bedroll, Verus began to prepare for the siege. Sitting on his bedroll, Verus pulled out his shortsword, he didn’t polish it though, he did not want to have light reflect off of it in the darkening and give away his position. Instead he took a whetstone and began sharpening the edges of the shortsword, slow and steadily giving it a razors edge.

Once satisfied that his shortsword was sharp enough, the young rhagrhnd stood. Dawning the leather armor that was on loan to him from the Warden’s he fit it snug around his torso then threw his cloak on overtop, once again blending in with the rest of the white cloaked Wardens. Settling his helm atop his short hair, Verus glanced at the shield that lay by his bed. Personally, Verus had never liked fighting with the shield. He found it awkward and cumbersome and much preferred to fight with only his sword. Satisfied that he was ready for the events planned, Verus waited patiently for the word to move out.

***

It was not long before Verus found himself with his two closest friends in the Wardens once again, sliding alongside Seprafel and Rahden on his belly, the trio made up only a small bit of the much larger group that stealthily approached the walls of Paxia. He was among the front ranks of the Warden’s almost eager to be inside the city, taking it back from the fething orcs.

Suddenly a flaming arrow arced through the dark sky, and an order range out. ’West Wardens, attack!’ It was the moment that Verus was waiting for, pushing himself up from the ground; Verus reached his feet quickly, running with long strides to reach the gate quickly. It was lightly guarded, but those few orcs would not be able to hold out against the mass of soldiers that now attacked.

Drawing his sword on the run, the young rhagrhnd chose his target. The closest orc to him and made a beeline for the creature, intent on slaying it with one fatal slash and making his way on to the next.

[Seprafel]

When he had received his orderrs, Seprafel went about readying himself for the coming attack. The katta had checked, double-checked, and then re-checked his equipment. His blade was sharp and clean. His shield was still in good condition, although if it hadn't been he wasn't sure what he would have been able to do about it at that point. Once he was sure that his equipment was ready, Seprafel began packing his things. Even with battle drawing closer with every candlemark the katta still couldn't help but keep his area neat and tidy.

With candlemarks left to go until darkening, Seprafel couldn't sit still. He was restless. The knowledge of what was to come combined with the uncertainty of what could happen along with the waiting seemed more unbearable than actual combat. Seprafel's frustration and anger grew until he couldn't wait for the mission to begin.

-----

Finally; the mission had begun. The aggression and energy that Seprafel had struggled to contain for a few candlemarks now had an outlet. As the katta crawled across the ground with an objective his mind was once again focused, his nerves calm. This darkening belonged to the West Wardens.

Aside from his angry and random rantings before the mission began, Seprafel had said little to either Rahden or Verus. Now, he couldn't say anything to either of them as they inched their way closer to the gates of Paxia.

Then the signal to attack came. A flaming arrow cut through the dark sky. The order to attack could be heard in the distance. Seprafel pushed himself up to his feet, drew his sword and ran towards the battered walls of the city. There was no telling what kind of resistance he would find, but one thing was certain. No resistance would be able to slow the katta down as he charged into Paxia. Any orc caught in his way would feel the force of his momentum behind his shield followed by an unrelenting attack from his shortsword.

[Keldon Elsdragon]

Edited: Moved to another thread for better steamline of the current plot.

[Keldon Elsdragon]

Edited: Moved to another thread for better steamline of the current plot.

[Keldon Elsdragon]

Edited: Moved to another thread for better steamline of the current plot.