The Talons stood firmly, Zweihanders held high, kissing the bleak sky.
They almost looked peaceful in the downpour.
The heroes of Falkovnia, wordlessly accepting the burden of duty.
Valerian's blade cut into a Doppelsöldner's midsection and exited through the Beak shaped helmet.
Another's head sent a wave of mud that stained the otherwise spotless plate armour of his comrade.
The other Talons observed in utter silence as the massacare continued, untill a Zweihander cut into their flesh.
'I wonder if it makes it easier. When they stay silent like that.'A crackling thunder roared from the other side of the field, just behind the massacared company, painting the hill in a sickly green aura.
A jolt of anxiety raced through the magister's frame and he leapt into action, sprinting past Valerian into higher ground.
" . . Vae . . "A circle of acid surrounded the foreign arcanist and the furious downpour blindly charged the barrier, perishing with a threatening
hiss.
The magister anchored himself into the ground and began to utter his own words of power, a risen palm that characterized the school of Conjuration shadowed his words.
A sea of inky, black tentacles erupted from the soil and made for the Arcanist's limbs, tearing through skin and sinew, sliding into their prey's gaping maw to sate some ungodly appetite.
Breeze looked away with a burdened exhale.
A silent agreement between the comrades had them run through the trampled grassland towards the cliff side fortification.
"Report?""A company of Zweihanders and a magister, Sir.""Good. Seen anything else?""Non. We had to engage before we could fly further down towards the border."Juste noded formaly and sent the two auxiliary away.
Breeze crashed unto the wall, chest heaving dramatically as he drew the fresh, salt flavored air.
He could hear the men prepare without, the rain banging mercilessly against the house's wooden frame.
A bache of company men shifted a canon elsewhere.
Officers shouting orders, and men complying.
'Why am I here'And that rain.
That fucking rain, showering them mercilessly for two days in a row.
'Do I even plan on returning?'Bloodied fingers massaged the bridge of his nose, leaving a palid line of crimson.
He allowed himself another moment of rest before turning to the secured spelltome.
He took a stand just over a small hill that surveyd the fort's interior.
The hawks were attacking the gates with renewed strenght, having brought a suitable artillery for the task.
His comrade stood by the far side of the camp, in just where the cliff ended, already wating for the next sally.
They exchanged a nod and began their preperations. He'd keep his mouth shut if his fingers could draw his magic.
Valerian's physique violently altered, his arms retreating back into his armored torso and bent into a sharp angle, forming white, pale wings.
Breeze just finished growing feathers when Valerian took flight beyond the gate.
'Shi-'A bolt nearly missed his head, and he dove sharply to the side, further from the gate, following Valerian's course
THUMPSeveral bolts lodged themselves into a nearby tree, followed by another barrage.
His right wing was on fire, and he began to lose altitude.
Valerian quickly circled back and dove towards the ground, and his Zweihander silencing one of the pursuing Talons.
"I'm going back!"Breeze made a clumsy cut away from the occupied Talons.
More forces streamed towards Valerian, and he left a bloodied path in his escape.
SHRIIIIEKThe Falk's artillery hit the fort's front, sending splinters and debris everywhere.
He could swear hearing a cry of pain from within, despite the rain's effort to overcome it.
Mirroring Valerian's maneuver, Breeze dove to the ground and landed clumsily on the far side of the village, not far from the border pass.
Another barrage hit the fort. This time he heard no cries of pain. Only the indifferent wind and the violent crashing of waves.
Breeze's eye settled on the bleak horizon and he yanked a bolt from his shoulderblade.
The republique was so far away from this post.
Solange's world was so far away from this post.
'What am I doing here?'Was this it?
Was this his time to die?
He coughed meekly, and left out a trembling exhale.
'A memory only dies when you extinguish its flame.''I am all smoke now. I think its time to put the past to rest.'The Falkovnian detachment secured the artillery piece dutyfully.
His red wings spread across the sky, his nostrils enlarging to take a clear breath.
And then he lunged.
The men shrieked something in an unfamiliar language and greeted his dive with a volley that shredded his wings and pierced his scales. The Zweihanders cut his feet, and he could feel the ocean of blood pouring from inbetween his red armour.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to die without feeling this pain. He envied the men Valerian slew. He envied the Arcanist.
He wanted to run.
Breeze sent a powerful swipe at the artillery and splattered it to pieced. What remained of his wings stretched, and he hauled his body up into the air, clumsily gliding just above the Fort's walls.
He crashed unto the fort's courtyard with a loud thud.
This is how the end felt like.
The massive wings retreated back into his body, his legs rested uselessly within the mud.
Reality blurried. He could feel the candle's fire extinguishing.
"A..m I-.."He felt something yanking his naked body from a formless sea of black.
tp, tp, tpThe familiar sound of rainfall greeted him back into the world of the living.
Breeze couldn't agree if he felt relieved or not.
Lis treated his wounds. The world span around him.
Sinew and muscle reformed, but the soldier carried on dutifuly, despite the grisly sight.
"Falkovnians!"A task force hauled itself over the walls and unto the defenders.
Blurried shapes came face to face, steel to steel.
Lis left his side
They were losing. His comrades were dying, damnit.
'MOVE'A command echoed in his mind, and he found himself obeying meekly.
His fingers searched for
something. Something he couldn't name or explain.
Something to save his comrades.
Weak legs carried him to a stand.
His conjured staff kept him standing straight, and despite himself, he found comfort in being alive.
Several Companymen were laying lifelessly on the ground, while Juste was holding several at bay.
Falkovnian crossbowmen hit their rear and forced those that didn't fall to the sword to find shelter.
The scroll unrolled before his eyes
Holding it weakly, he began to read the faded runes that decorated its surface
He violently shuddered and fell to his knees.
The papyrus like material crambled to dust.
Time stood for just a moment.
A baleful scream escaped his depth
Friend and foe screamed before collapsing lifelessly
And he felt like dying again.