The Great War

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  1. Lord Calaer of Eathkar couldn't remember a time when Helven wasn't at war. Some historians claimed that the war had begun nearly a hundred years ago, that its centennial anniversary was fast approaching. Others claimed that it went back further, perhaps to the Great Change, when the gods left Helven and returned to the skies. Lord Calaer, however, couldn't care less. All he knew was that there was a human army marching upon Eathkar, Helven's last defense. Eathkar was the Gateway to Sanshi City, the capital of Helven. Should it fall, then Helven's enemies would have an easy time marching upon the capital and destroying Helven.

    That morning, Calaer's scouts had reported to him that the human army was just one valley over. They would be at Eathkar's gates by nightfall. Calaer had gathered Eathkar's militia, a small army of about five hundred trained soldiers, but if his scouts were right, the human army had easily ten times that. If Eathkar were to survive this, the walls would have to be held at all costs. Tales of what the human army had done had swept across the countryside ever since Reaven fell: burned, killed, razed the elven countryside. Hundreds of refugees had poured into Eathkar, either heading towards Sanshi City or seeking work and shelter in Eathkar, and now, it seemed that would all be for nothing. Some of the officers in the militia had gone around the city, asking for volunteers to bolster the militia. As such, there was a makeshift group of citizens armed with pitchforks and kitchen knives, though Calaer wasn't sure how well they would help.

    Gazing down at the city from a balcony in the White Keep, where he lived, Calaer studied the group of officers in the castle's courtyard attempting to teach some of the volunteers how to do basic parries and stabs. Letting out a heavy sigh, he turned from the balcony, stepping back into his large bed chambers. There, his wife sat on the bed, cradling their youngest daughter in her arms while singing softly to her.

    "Serona," he said softly, sitting beside her. "I do not know how this day will turn out...Please, will you take our children into the study and lock yourselves in? Faervel, too...I know he has this idea in his head that he is going to fight when the humans arrive, but...he will get himself killed, and I won't have my son dying like that..." Serona nodded, standing to her feet.

    "Alright, my love. Be safe," she said softly, kissing Calaer's cheek before leaving.

    Calaer let out a world-weary sigh before calling in his servants to help him into his armor. If the humans got as far as the White Keep, he intended to fight to his dying breath protecting it. And, hopefully, his eldest son wouldn't die as well.


    Faervel, meanwhile, had no intention of hiding in the White Keep with his mother and sisters. He wanted to fight, to protect the place he called home and save his country. If Eathkar fell and he was still alive, hiding in some corner of the White Keep, he would never forgive himself. As such, he found himself standing on the steps leading up to the White Keep, dressed in layers skin-tight leather and with his sword and dagger at each respective hip. Beside him stood his dearest friend, Ianir, who was the son of one of his father's companions. Ianir was dressed similarly, and held the same intentions as Faervel.

    "We'll survive this day, yet," Ianir said, brushing his hair back as they watched the sun set. "Those humans will never stop us. They can throw as many humans as they want at us, we're both worth a million of them each." Faervel nodded, grinning. He had been training for this day his whole life, ever since he was big enough to hold a sword or draw a bow. The war had been going on since long before he was born, and he knew that eventually it must reach Eathkar. He had always had the intention of protecting his home, the city he would one day be lord of.

    As the sun dipped down behind the mountains to the west, Faervel gazed towards the large gates of the city, his aquamarine eyes filled with pride and just a hint of anxiety. Then, he heard the sounds of the horns being blown. Aoooooooooo, like a solitary wolf's howl.

    "The scouts on the walls must have...the human army must be within sight..." Faervel said, gripping the hilt of his sword. Whispering a prayer to the gods, he took in a deep, steadying breath, even as the sound of hoofbeats filled the air.

    "We'll be safe," Ianir said. "The walls will hold. Eathkar is the Gateway to the capital, it has the strongest walls in all of Helven. And if not, you and I will defend this great city."

    [ ooc: ]
    #1 EquinoxSol, Aug 10, 2015
    Last edited: Aug 10, 2015
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  2. [​IMG]

    Ailith Hildegarde
    Ailith Hildegarde was the daughter Hedvika and Mechteld Hildegarde, her father, Mechteld being known as a high officer Sanshi City. The only reason that Ailith was in such a place, preparing to dash into battle, was because of her mother, Hedvika, had grown up in Reaven. With the addition of her kin being murdered mercilessly and the anger that was brewing in Ailith's chest, the need to prove to her father that she was better than her petty, idolized brother Luxion.

    Being female she had grown up being taught how to defend herself, but at a certain age she had been cut off from her fighting lessons and had been told that she had to learn the ways of a lady as well. The rank of her family's name had been strict about what future she would hold - and it was nothing close to being a warrior. The idea of dresses made out of expensive silk and materials as well as choosing someone to "spend the rest of her life with" had her nose crinkling and a bad taste form in her mouth.

    She had been residing in a small shack of an inn, which had been occupied by those who had fled from Raeven. She had bunked with two small elven children and their mother, who's husband had been killed when the humans had bombarded the city and overthrown it.

    After doning herself in her armor, which fit her like a second skin, and sheathing the large longsword along her back, she slipped her hands into a pair of black gloves while glancing upwards, her mossy-green eyes blinking upwards to the wall, which seemed ominous. She hoped it would hold, it had to, or else the humans would take everything. Her knee-length black hair was pulled tight against her head, her pale skin of her face smooth and unscarred; although the tattoo ruined any innocent look that had been bestowed upon her.

    Alongside the longsword that had multiple protection ruins drawn into it, she had plenty of daggers hidden around her body. Her teeth ended up applying pressure to her bottom lip. Maybe she should have brought some more weapons--a shield, or maybe a bow.

    Shaking any doubt away, she continued further, the sound of hoofbeats thrumming in the air. It brought a rush of adrenaline, excitement, but a twinge of fear that made her stomach queasy. Her parents were probably worried sick, but she was a grown woman, and with that stubborn thought Ailith stalked forwards, joining the large crowd of milling soldiers that murmured in hushed voices.
    The gates towered over her as she pushed through the mass of men and woman, her expression tight.


    Andre Gildrene
    Andre Gildrene had been put to the task of searching for Ailith. Having grown up with her and becoming a remarkable scout and hunter, her father, Mechteld Hildegarde had ordered him to seek her out. Andre also knew how she worked and her scandelous ways. She was indeed, a feisty, and stubborn one.

    " . . . Excuse me, have you seen an elven woman with a tattoo on her face? Green eyes?" He was becoming desperate; the sound of horns were indicating that the battle would start soon. And if Ailith wasn't scurrying around an inn or tavern, he knew where she would be, in the middle of the damn fight!

    Cursing to himself as he received a negative response, he made his way outside, a hand coming to shield his eyes from the setting sun as his hand fell to the leather strap that fell across his chest. He was becoming anxious and the idea of using his bow was becoming an impeding idea. If he didn't find Ailith by the time the humans broke through the gates, he would have to fight as well.

    Damn, why were elven woman so stubborn?
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  3. Hearing the sounds of the approaching army, Faervel and Ianir left the steps of the White Keep and headed towards where the congestion of elves was greatest, right behind the gate. They got up onto the large walls of the cities, where the archers were already shooting at the human army. As they peeked behind a large battlement, they were finally able to see the army.

    It was enormous, miles wide, and only dispersed with war machines. There were seige towers and catapults, rams and trebuchets, and the mere sight of it nearly sent Faervel running. "Gods above," he whispered, brushing his hair back. Ianir nodded, his dark eyes scouring over the army. They were less than a mile away now, and the sound of their hoofbeats and marching was almost deafening.

    Ianir drew his bow and notched an arrow, taking quick aim before he fired. He fell a man atop a horse, smirking as he saw the man fall from it.

    From their vantage point, Faervel could see the large trebuchet atop a large hill that sat just outside Eathkar. Already, there was a large group of soldiers breaking off from the main body heading towards the trebuchet. It would be the first to go, undoubtedly, but it would take out as many of the human soldiers as possible before then. The soldiers manning it knew that it was unlikely that they would survive the battle, but hopefully their sacrifice would help protect the city and the lives of hundreds of innocents.

    As the trebuchet fired off another shot, Faervel watched as it landed in the center of the main army, scattering soldiers and killing many. At the head of the human army, atop a chestnut horse, was the human general, a monster of a man. He had been the one who had called for the raze of the elven countryside, of the deaths of hundreds of thousands elves. He had a shield he would raise to defend himself from the onslaught of arrows, since every elven archer atop the walls wanted to be the one to fell the great human general Lanos.

    From the nearest siege tower came a great fireball that hurled itself at the walls of Eathkar. As it hit, it rocked the earth, throwing Faervel to the floor of the battlements. He quickly got up, looking over the wall at the spot that the fireball had hit. It hadn't broken through, yet, but a large black scorchmark was left there, marring the pristine white wall. "They've got mages," Ianir said fearfully, hiding behind the battlement. "Gods above..."

    "We should be behind the wall," Faervel said nervously, already moving towards the tower that they had come up to the wall in. Ianir nodded, and followed, and soon they were in the midst of the throng of elven soldiers and citizens wanting to protect their home, just as another fireball hit the wall. The people that recognized Faervel bowed and moved out of the way for him.

    Faervel soon was standing in between Ianir and an elven woman with a tattoo on her face, gripping onto the hilt of his sword nervously. "Don't worry, Faer," Ianir said, touching his shoulder. "We'll get through the day, I'm sure of it. Those damn humans will be running before the sun falls."
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  4. Ailith Hildegarde

    Ailith found herself feeling grim as she noticed the sudden fireballs that exploded either against the towering gates that protected them, or around her. Thankfully none landed near her - but others crashed against built households and ruined what structures were there, immediately. A curse left her as she realized what that meant: the humans were using magic. Something that meant the humans were given yet another advantage.
    Not knowing what was behind the walls, Ailith could only assume that they had much more than simply mages and humans on foot. The sound of things far bigger than a horse and feet thrummed in the air like an electric shock to the female.

    Little had she noticed that a duo of males came through, one seeming rather anxious but being greeted with bows of respect, and the other making an attempt to reassure him. Being the stubborn, hot-headed elf that she was, she only blinked, glancing the other way. At least Ianir seemed to have some guts, and for that, she twisted her head to the side, a subtle smile beginning to hint at the curve of her mouth. The amusement was thin on her face, but it seemed to lift the heavy weight from her chest.

    "Shouldn't you be hiding with the rest of your family?" Tone dripping with a poisonous venom, sarcastic and full of a girlish taunt, she turned her head towards Faervel, before casting his friend a glance and whipping her head towards the thunderous sound that moved throughout the entire city. Had the humans reached the gates? How had they moved so quickly? Her stomach seemed to tighten and the female reached back to grip her long sword, the elf-like runes beginning to illuminate as she withdrew it.

    Andre Gildrene
    The sound of the humans attempting to pull down the towers that protected the city had Andre's blood going cold. His upper lip curled in a snarl as he pushed his way through a mass of soldiers, some whom pushed him back in disdain. His attention zeroed in on a mass of black hair and a large sword that he recognized - was that the damned girl?

    "Ailith!" A hand clamped down on her shoulder, whirling her around so that he was facing the red-faced elf, who seemed to boil with anger. The response he received was a frown and the girl trying to shoulder his hold from her. "You can't be here, your father--!" Another resounding boom echoed in the air. He cringed.

    The scent of humans filled the world around him, and his brows pinched together as the dark-haired male pushed himself closer to the woman in an act of protection. He knew that they wouldn't be able to go unnoticed when the fighting broke out; there was no time to run. The humans were at the gates and breaking in, something he had feared. "They're here," he swore, now feeling desperate. The idea of shedding blood was one he should have been comfortable with, he had grown up learning the art of battle, yet he wasn't like Ailith, who he knew welcomed the idea of war. He had just wanted to get her back to her family, not end up in this mess!
  5. image.jpg
    Finariel Greenleaf
    Finariel runs up the steps to the top of the castle walls and twists his fist over his heart in a salute to Ianir and Faervel. "My lord! The humans are assaulting us on three sides! They will soon breach the west wall. That quaking in the earth shook its foundations. What are you orders?"

    (Will add more later.)
  6. Sera clenched her fist around her borrowed sword, her heart pounding and a week's worth of poorly guided group training constantly fluxating through her mind. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes darted around her in constant motion in response to the commotion of the battlefield. With each step they marched closer and closer to Earthkar's wall. Sera looked up, straining her neck to see the top of the wall where she spotted the elven archers. She cursed her horrid luck, and brought her shield just a bit higher for more coverage.

    It wasn't bad enough that she got drafted into the army at all, but to end up on the front lines of all places... Sera clammered clumsily besides several other week old soldiers with their leather armor and used weapons, her brown hair fell around her shoulders, and the swords weight threatened to throw her off balance. General Lanos surely knew that they would be of very little use as they were now but she guessed that since they were all at the front they were purposely placed here as fodder for the elves. Protection from the arrows and attacks for the better trained soldiers that stood behind her. General Lanos needed numbers he said, to keep the elves from taking over, desertion and treason was punishable by death, but if we did die in battle he said, it would be an honorable death. Sera scoffed, clearing those thoughts from her mind and stilling her slightly trembling hand. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her breathing, miracles happened all the time right? Then she could survive this too. Going to battle, however lacking in training she may have been did not mean that she was going to die.

    She finally managed to draw in some courage when an arrow embedded itself into the soldier right besides her. His eyes went wide and his mouth stretched to make a sound that never came. He fell to the ground off of his horse with a thud and Sera stopped breathing, her eyes wide. The horse reared back and Sera stumbled back to avoid its hooves, tripping over her feet and falling onto the ground. Feeling for her sword and shield she hurriedly got to her feet and looked around her. Soldiers were already running towards the gates. They were well within shooting range now, the Elves could pick them off easily from here.
    With one last sorrowful glance at the fallen and now still man she broke out into a Sprint towards the gate, once they got in things would be a tad bit easier... Well she hoped it would be.

    Once they made it to the gate they began to crowd together in one place in front of it. She yelled at them to spread out, disperse, they were only cornering themselves and making it easier for the elves to shoot them down. She seperated from the huge group, her back clinging to the wall and her shield above her head to protect her from the arrows above. She could hear her heart in her ears as she inched along the wall looking for a vantage point, a hole, something to climb, to get her in, anything...

    She'd figure out where to go from there once she was in, all that mattered now was staying alive. She found herself a crevice in the wall with an overhang that blocked her from the archers view and lowered her shield to protect her front instead. Her sword in hand outstretched ready to fight just in case but her eyes scanning the wall next to her. She scaled the wall slowly, searching, there had to be a water pipeline or something.
  7. Faervel didn't have time to be offended by the dark-haired woman's comment before Finariel approached them and a man took the woman's attention. As he told him where the humans were attacking from, Faervel paled a bit and took a deep breath. " many men are on the west wall? Ianir, you should go there and help the soldiers there..."

    The other elf nodded and soon was pushing his way through the crowd, leaving Faervel alone in the crowd. He held onto the hilt of his sword nervously, his blue eyes staring at the main gates in front of him. A boom echoed through the city and the gate went in a bit, some of the iron-banded wood warping slightly. Faervel immediately knew that it was the sound of battering rams against the gates. Some of the larger elven soldiers were pressing up against the gate, but as another ram hit the gate they were all thrown against the ground.

    Looking to Finariel, Faervel said, "There's nothing we can do right now...We've got too many soldiers at the gate, we can't send more to the west wall. Hopefully, there's enough already there, enough to hold them back..." He raked his fingers through his hair, glancing nervously at the gate as it was struck again. By now, it was bent in too many places to count, and it looked like it was about to break.

    One of the elven commanders called for the soldiers at the gate to move back as far as possible, since it was about to break. There were murder holes above the gate, so when it opened, the elves on the walls would pour hot oil and tar on the human invaders. A second later, the gates broke, and the human army poured in. The first couple lines got caught by the murder holes, but there were still a thousand more behind them.

    Faervel took a deep breath as he heard the sounds of battle just ahead of him, and drew his sword and his dagger, prepared to fight and die for his country.
  8. Ailith Hildegarde

    Turning her attention once she heard a resounding crack echo throughout the atmosphere, she realized then that the gates had been broken. The ones before it had left the gates bent, but now she knew - the humans had breached the wall. The sight of many of the front lines getting stuck in the murder pits had confidence returning to the dark-haired elf, yet there were too many still coming. The plethora of the army continued to move forwards, now moving over the dead bodies as if it were nothing but a simple obstacle.

    "You better fight tough, boy," she said to Faervel, before turning to glance towards Andre. He looked like he had paled three shades lighter than he normally was.

    Humans had hit the blockade of elves; and some broke through to the rest of the squadrons that were waiting. Adrenaline making itself present through her body, Ailith gave a small jump, her boots making no sound as she lowered her knees, bracing herself for the human with bloodshot eyes as he made his way towards her, an axe raised and ready.

    Bringing the long sword over her chest as it slammed down on the rune-encrusted blade, she felt the shock make her elbows strain and she pushed back, her blade now raising as the human stumbled back. She was about to bring it down on the human's shoulder - yet Andre had decided to take action and a slender arrow found itself furrowed into his chest.

    An immediate scowl appeared on her cherry colored mouth, before she dashed forwards, her blade embedding itself into the kneecap of a human. The scent of blood had her nose crinkling in distaste and it didn't take long for her grip to loosen slightly, the essence from the humans coating her black gloves.

    Andre Gildrene
    "Ailith!" He said in anger, his groan of annoyance making it obvious that he was stressing beyond belief. He had let an arrow fly as he realized the large human male that had made his way towards the young she-elf. He had killed him before she had gotten to, which in result had her moving away, and he knew she would hate him by the end of this.

    He let another arrow fly, curving it's way through the soft flesh of a woman's neck, which pierced it and had her choking on her own blood. For a moment Andre stood stiff, blinking a few times--humans let their women fight? He hadn't known that, but it did seem like many more than he had ever seen. Andre knew that all sexes of the elves could participate and were normally trained, yet humans had different customs.

    It seemed that the humans were desperate to win this fight. With that thought in mind, he continued to shoot down any that came close to Ailith, which had her swinging her sword in anger.
  9. Finariel had an idea. It would probably get him killed, but it might save the city. Turning to the archer next to him, he says,"Hand me that rope." Taking it, he ties it to an arrow and fires it into the mortar of the battlements. Throwing it over the side, he climbs partway down and starts firing arrows into the backs of the invading humans. His quiver, being enchanted, never ran out of arrows. He felled so many humans that they started to fall in a wall, and their comrades had to climb over them.

    Climbing back up, he cuts the rope so the enemy couldn't climb it, running to the elves at the murder holes, he says,"Pour the tar and oil on the wall of bodies!" When they had, Finariel lights an arrow and fires it, setting it on fire, the men on top of it screaming in pain. That should hinder them for awhile.
  10. Faervel was able to hold his own in a battle, but this...this was madness. All around him, people were dying, and was doing his best just to stay up as he fought against a large human armored in plate. Soon, blood coated the cobblestone road, and Faervel had a few near-mishaps, where his boots would slip on the blood-soaked stone and he would almost fall.

    Hearing more screams from the gates, he looked towards it momentarily, seeing Finariel orchestrating a gruesome sort of blockade out of human bodies. As the smell of burning flesh filled the air, carried by the early fall breeze, Faervel wrinkled his nose and turned, just as a human soldier tried to run him through with a greatsword.

    Blocking it just in time, he ducked out of the way of another blow, from another human, his entire body buzzing. With a sickening boom, a fireball crashed through the wall of the city, breaking a gaping hole in it. More humans came through the wall now, and the siege tower soon was at the wall, letting more and more soldiers into the city, including the mage.

    "F-fall back!" he shouted. If they stayed there much longer, the humans would overrun them. "Fall back, now! Towards the castle!" He fought back the humans on him before he began to back up, hoping that the western wall hadn't yet been broken.
  11. Tserra was unable to believe the devastation that surrounded her at that moment. Charred flesh mixed in with the scent of tar and oil. Screams of fear and shouts of pain pierced her very soul and she wanted nothing more than to just and never look back. Her stomach turned at the sights, hands trembling as she saw bodies mounted upon bodies...the people of the city running if they weren't already fighting. And warriors from both sides being cut down and mowed over. Blood sprayed in all directs...including the odd limb.

    It was unfortunate for her...being stuck as a half-breed according the humans that she once lived with. It took a while before she could gather up her strength, courage and resources to leave the place that her supposed father confinded her in. It was troublesome, not having the full advantages of her elfish heritage but yet still having some of features that...more than stood out. Perhaps her ears were more pointed and her eyes turned a different shade...even gathered the appearance pupils even. Then with the other half...she wasn't like them enough. She had to work so hard and prove so much. Learn how to fight, walk, talk, abd whatever else like them. And even then it didn't seem enough.

    But she knew, deep down, she knew that she belonged with the elf half of her heritage. Even if she had a long way from earning their acceptance, trust and respect. She would fight with them until she could no longer lift her sword or throw her knife or loose an arrow.

    The vibrations from the fireball truly were amazing. Tserra had never felt anything like it. It rumbled through her chest and the heat scorched her skin. She was dumbstruck on how she had managed to keep her positioning upon the higher rooftops where she had been releasing arrows at her enemies. Despite the yell to fall back, she was more than determined to remain where she already was, continuing to take down whatever soldiers she could with the arrows she had remaining.

    Soot, sweat and smoke stained her skin, plastering the loose strands of her hair to her face as it kept the furrowed brow and set jaw as her expression of concentration. The movements of their Lord, Faervel, caught her eye, leading Tserra to begin aiming arrows at the many humans that had the Lord surrounded. She didn't wish to think of what would happen if he were to die within the battle.

    As more flooded through the gaping hole, Tserra used her agility to skim, hop and run across the crumbling tops of the walls to follow the path of the retreating Lord and his followers. Her two daggers were drawn as she placed her bow over her head, her plan allowing a final involvement in the action below. Tserra could only hope that it would only be humans attacking her.

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  12. [​IMG]
    Esmira was rocked by the sudden shifting of the ground around her, stumbling as she sought a stationary object to steady herself. A large fireball had just burst through the north wall of Eathkar, prompting what felt like a medium-sized earthquake. As she attempted to regain her composure by latching onto the side of a nearby building, a human soldier rushed forward from the fray, halberd coming down in a majestic arch that ended in the space occupied by Esmira's head. For a moment, Esmira panicked. She had undergone rigorous training during her childhood in Reaven, but had yet to experience any actual combat. Then, something instinctual superseded this initial shock, causing Esmira to jut her hand out in the direction of her approaching doom.

    The last words that the halberd-wielder heard were, "Arna en'runya!" With the completion of the last syllable, a storm of flames rushed forth from Esmira's open palm, incinerating everything within a conical area in front of her. The spell was quite hastily thrown together, with a lack of mental concentration making the ebb of magick within her veins somewhat inconsistent. This resulted in a few slightly singed fingers for Esmira, but still nothing as gruesome as the amount of damage the halberd would have done. The man's accelerated body came to an abrupt stop, crumpling only a foot from her. A slight residual twitch was the only suggestion that it had ever been alive. The halberd, too, landed a few inches short of Esmira with a metallic, Clang!

    For a few moments, Esmira was stunned. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she stared at the charred figure at her feet, making her vision swirl in a puddle of dizzying lights until she blinked them out. "This is not the time," Esmira said inwardly. She knew that she could deal with whatever guilt she must when she was out of danger. As if to affirm what her inner-voice had said, an authoritative voice echoed across the field of battle commanding, "Fall back, now! Towards the castle!"

    Esmira searched for the origin of the voice, her eyes landing on a particularly regal-looking Elf with long, lemon-yellow tresses. Apparently, Esmira was not the only one who had heard the Elf-boy's command. Out of the corner of her eye, Esmira could see another Elven woman dancing along the rooftops as she fired volley after volley of arrows into the humans that charged in the direction of the blonde-haired Elf. A third, raven-haired Elven warrior fought alongside the group as they retreated back towards the safety of the castle. Given her situation, Esmira judged that this group was her best bet for a safe retreat. The pyromancer dashed to join the ranks of soldiers flanked around the backpedaling ensemble, lobbing a few fireballs at the approaching horde of humans in a futile attempt to curb their onslaught.

    #12 Arlathina, Aug 15, 2015
    Last edited: Aug 15, 2015
  13. "Fall back now! To the castle!" Finariel heard Faervel's cry just as the siege tower slammed into the city wall, unleashing a legion of soldiers and... A BATTLE MAGE? They haven't been seen in years.

    Finariel slongs his bow across his back and draws his sword. As the first of the legion runs towards him, he points his palm at them and mumbles to himself, "Thrysta ono thelduin." With a mighty snapping sound, the calves of the first rank shattered, leaving them helpless and flailing, some falling into the inferno below.

    Quickly cutting down the rest of the legion, Finariel stands ten meters from the battle Mage. As the Mage begins forming words into a spell, Finariel whips his hand up, and, with elvish speed, throws a leafbladed dagger at the Mage, lodging it in his throat.

    He leaps off the wall onto the nearest roof, and takes off after Faervel and Tserra, dropping into the ground by Esmira.

  14. Nuwairah stepped amongst the bodies of the fallen, placing one bare foot upon the body of a soldier and then another as she struggled over the throng of corpses. The elves had done a number, easily felling twenty men for each elf that fell. It was most unpleasant an experience.

    She was a beautiful woman, Nuwairah, clad in scarlet ribbons that moved almost of their own volition for she was part Efreeti. Her grandmother had been taken by an Efreet when her people had been enslaved by such creatures and had been rescued during the rebellion. Now she, her people, along with the rest of humanity despised all the supernatural races. They would all be cleansed.

    Stepping beyond the sundered gate Nuwairah gestured and a half dozen golden butterflies flew from her outstretched hand, each one fluttering towards an even defender. The merest touch set them aflame, screaming and running, or falling to the ground and rolling.
  15. Seeing the people were listening to his orders, Faervel made some more go, pushing them in the direction that the castle was in. Behind him, he heard the screams, and turned. There, several elves were on fire, and he quickly ran to them, helping them put out the fires and getting them moving. "Run!" he shouted, knowing that they had to get back soon. He didn't want anymore of his soldiers to get hurt here, in front of the broken city gates.

    Faervel had the soldiers fall back until they were right in front of the steps to the castle. This would be where their last stand would be, where the remaining elven soldiers would live or die protecting their country. Faervel took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever may happen.


    In the end, the sheer numbers of the human army overwhelmed the elves. Those who surrendered were gathered in the town's main square, where the humans shackled anyone who looked dangerous and just tied up the rest. One of them had recognized Faervel as a relative of Lord Calaer, so he was put in shackles and had to stay near General Lanos. A large group of soldiers went into the castle, eventually coming out with the rest of Faervel's family: his father, his mother, and his three siblings.

    Lanos had Faervel's father brought down so he could be seen by all the elven prisoners. "While you were fighting for your city," Lanos said, his voice booming through the square, "your lord was cowering inside his castle! Does that sound like what an honorable man would do? And now, Calaer will die, before all of you."

    "No!" Faervel shouted, trying to wrestle out of his shackles and away from the guards standing beside him. "You can't kill my father! Please!" One of the humans guarding him just hit him with the hilt of his sword against his temple, making him fall to the ground in pain. Calaer was made to kneel as his children were all placed to the side, where they could be seen by all of the elven prisoners.

    With one swing of his sword, Calaer's head was severed from his neck, and his blood painted the cobblestone beneath him. Faervel screamed, while his younger siblings cried or held onto their mother. Lanos turned to the rest of the noble family, and asked no one in particular, "Now, what should happen to the family of the dead lord...?"
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  16. Tserra was more than furious when her bow and arrows, along with her sword and daggers were ripped from her and promptly discarded. But of course she couldn't act on that now...not with her hands in shackles and the humans crawling all over the place. They were just as disgusting and selfish as the people in her old village. Only more cruel...abusive... it sickened her. If only she didn't have those weapons on her...perhaps then she could have only had rope instead of iron around her wrists. It still rubbed at her skin, and she knew that with them on long would make her wrists raw and sore. Perhaps even bloodied.

    "Bastards." She hissed sharply, flipping loose strands of hair from her face after getting a stern hit across the face in warning after creating too much noise with her shackles as she attempted to find any weakness in them. And to think she was half of what they were. To think she had a half-human heritage. Humans were destructive...cutting down anything that posed a threat before it could even begin to be that threat. Hell, she was sure babies would be killed tonight, ones that could barely gurgle let alone scream in terror and fear.

    Spitting some blood from her mouth, Tserra turned her attention to the drama that was playing out on the stage before herself and the elven town captives. Her eyes briefly closed as the Lord's head was separated from the neck, blood spraying as his children screamed or cried on. She opened them again afterward, not daring to see if any blood had landed on the closer captives, or even on herself. They all needed to focus on who they were able to save now.

    The Lord's wife and children.

    "No! You cannot do this!" Tserra finally called out, "The 'dead Lord'...he was the only real influence behind our fighting force! Spare his family! They have nothing to do-" She growled harshly as she was shoved forward, and therefore down, into the blood soaked cobblestones by the guard behind her. The stones grazed her cheeks, the mixture of blood, soot and dirt stinging her new cuts to the cheek, jaw and neck as she went down. "Son of a-" She struggled slightly as a boot pressed against the back of her head, holding her in place and soon she began to taste the dirt on the ground since she had no way to push herself up without her hands.

    "You have killed the 'dishonourable'. The least that can be done is for you to spare the honourable ones. Or do you humans have no dignity or respect for the determination of your enemies anymore?" Tserra demanded to know, yelling since she was practically face first with the floor but still with slightly slurred words since she was unable to formulate her words properly with the boot still pressing her head downward.
  17. Finariel was shackled next to Tserra. "Tserra! You'll get yourself killed!" he hisses at her, earning himself a place on the ground next to her with a boot on his head. Seeing an arrow on the ground twenty paces from his face. Drawing on his magic, he murmurs so Tserra could barely hear him, "Arren rĂ¯sa." He watches as it raises up a few feet and points at Lanos. "Jierda ono arren il Lanos." He watches as it flys and embeds itself in Lanos' chest.

    Seeing that there are less than fifty humans in the courtyard of the castle, and taking advantage of the confusion, Finariel yells, "JIERDA SHAKULS!!" Instantly, the shackles on every elf in the courtyard falls to the ground. With a yell, they charge and quickly subdue the awestruck humans.

    Running over to the wounded general, he pulls him from his horse and shackle him spread eagle to the castle doors. With Faervel in shock over his father's murder, Finariel quickly assumes charge of the chaos, having the elves shackle the humans still standing to the pillars of the courtyard.

    He walks to Faervel. Bending down, He says,"My lord. You may not feel it, but you are the lord of Eathkar now. You must lead your people to Helven. Eathkar has fallen to barbarians. Before he died, my father was a good friend and advisor to your father. He showed me a passage, about a league long, from behind the hearth in the great hall, to an abandoned monastery in the foothills. I advise you, as my father advised yours, to lead your people through it, to Helven." He stands back up and picks up a sword. "I will buy you some time."
    #17 Aedion, Aug 22, 2015
    Last edited: Aug 25, 2015
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  18. As chaos ensued from Finariel's spells, Faervel remained on the ground, tears falling down his cheeks. One of his younger sisters crawled into his lap, but he barely moved, his hands only moving to hold her. Still, his eyes were focused on his father's body, even as Finariel spoke to him.

    Then, as he told him about a monastery in the foothills, his blue eyes flickered up at the other elf, but he still said nothing. Just as Finariel was leaving, Faervel found his voice and asked, "W-where's Ianir?!" He looked around worriedly, hardly the same confident man that he was before the walls were broken through. He stood, his breath coming in quick gasps as he looked around nervously.

    Glancing towards the western wall, he bit his bottom lip, then ran away, pushing through the gathered elves. "Ianir!" he shouted, struggling not to slip on the pools of blood. The area along the western wall was decimated, and there were more elven bodies than human here. Tears in his eyes, Faervel looked at the faces of all the dead elves, looking for Ianir.

    Finally, Faervel found him. He was still alive, but barely, his chest barely rising and falling. Kneeling beside him, Faervel pulled Ianir's head into his lap, cradling it. "I'm dying," Ianir whispered, blood staining his lips deep red.

    "I can't...I can't lose you..." Faervel gasped. "I can't be lord without you..." Then, with a soft gasp of breath, the light in Ianir's dark eyes left them, and Faervel let out a cry. His tears fell on Ianir's cheeks and he kneeled there for several minutes.

    When his tears dried, he stood up, his cheeks covered in tear stains. He wandered back to the town square, his blue eyes red and puffy. His mother went to him and tried to hug him, but he shrugged her off of him, walking towards the castle stiffly.
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  19. Hearing a cry of anguish, Finariel looks towards the west wall. That's where Ianir was! Sword in hand, he runs back towards the wall and sees Faervel on his knees, Ianir's head in his lap. No...It can't be... How...

    Rushing back to the courtyard, he walks up and stands beside the limp body of Lanos as he was chained to the door. Amplifying his voice, he tells the elves assembled, "LORD IANIR IS DEAD BY THE HANDS OF THE BARBARIANS WHO SLAUGHTERED OUR MEN! OUR WOMEN! OUR CHILDREN! OUR ELDERLY! OF OUR SIXTEEN THOUSAND CITIZENS, WE ARE ALL THAT IS LEFT!! For those of you unable to, or don't wish to remain here, with me to avenge our loss, in the hearth of the Great Hall, there is a passage, approximately one league in length. It comes out in an abandoned monastery. For those that wish to, take the passage and escape to Helven.

    I will stay here, with those that wish. I will fight to the end to defend my home!" He raised his sword high. "WHO WILL STAND WITH ME!!"

    He listens as about half of the assembled elves echo his war cry and arm themselves with the humans weapons.
  20. Tserra had slipped away during Finariel's speech after ensuring that the captured humans were tied up with the same shackles that bound them moments earlier. She was not prepared for it to be a cycle of both species taking it in turns to be in those iron cuffs. Especially when she had just gained an injury that needed immediate attention. It was a miracle that she had gotten so far without being attacked by her fellow elven people...she knew there was confusion due to her appearance and mannerisms. Human, but not human enough. Elf...but not prominently...apart from her damn ears.

    The castle was the only place Tserra could be sure had medical supplies that she could use, with most of the other places burning or destroyed, she needed to be sure she could find something for her wounds in the first place she looked instead of running around all over the place. Her hand was pressed firmly against her side, just below her ribs with the gash slanting downwards so it ended just past her hip bone. Curving ever so slightly. She had been tired, a cocktail of blood and sweat was stinging her eyes and she lost concentration and sight of her opponents blade.

    Tserra stumbled finally into the castle's kitchens, which was luckily still clear after all that had happened. Her clumsy actions as she searched for some form of alcohol caused some pots, pans and plates to clang or shatter over the cobblestone flooring, perfectly in tune with her mild cursing. In the end she was able to locate some alcohol along with a small kit upon which she only took a single bandage roll and cotton pad from. Sitting down besides the fireplace, Tserra bit down hard on her knuckles to keep from shouting out in pain as she poured some alcohol onto her gash, the hand shaking slightly from how much it was killing her. "The little...and to think I'm..." She trailed off her cursing, hissing slightly with the after pain as she heard the roar from the elven people that Finariel managed to rile up. Her head tipped back and she closed her eyes as Tserra took a moment to compose herself before adding another splash of alcohol to clean the wound to then, with trembling hands, try and place the cotton pad and bandage in herself too.
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