A Knight's Lilies

“It is foretold that when Gods clash on the mortal plane once more, the Dark Tide will rise again. For two centuries the seers foretold of doom, for two centuries we ignored them. Woe to us the foolish who heeded not their warnings; woe to us the simple minded who ignored the signs; woe to us the feeble who now lack the strength to act. For the Era of Twilight has come to an end. The Era of Darkness hath now begun.”

- Chieftain Galivagus to Inquisitor Serilda, Somewhere on the Frostwind Mountainside overlooking Melisgrad.

Sophie exhaustedly scrambled around, pushing and prodding until the rubble above her slid off. With a groan, she dragged her aching body forwards, her eyes reeling from the devastation in front of her. They were no longer within the stormy vortex, the different chunks of the tower having seemingly exploded in on itself. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of a few figures nearby, the sound of fighting ringing prominently through the air. What looked to be Meltonian troopers clashed with large green skin warriors and adventurers just beyond the rubble. It took her a few moments to process the information and for her eyes to adjust to the battle around her. Orcs…orcs and the Crows!

With a start she roused herself, pushing up and taking stock of the few combatants still standing inside the rubble. Surrounding the ruined dias, the Direktor, Gold Sash, Markus and an orc examined the exploded crystal, the Direktor in particular ranting and raving, his madness only intensifying with the crystal’s destruction.

“Cowards! Cowards and traitors! They dare interfere with the solstice of souls! But it is no matter, ascension has come, his power rings true! Behold! The echoes of the savior!” He gestured wildly to the sky.

Quietly Sophie followed his hands, her head arching upwards to find a terrifying sight. Blended in with the maelstrom was a sight she found all too familiar. The stars themselves illuminated within stellar phenomenons, the essence of the void itself tickling the edges of reality in the skies above Melton. Two large breaches in the very nature of reality lingered over the city where the tower used to be. Wait, where it used to be? She took another look around, surrounding the rubble were fields and knolls, a few trees sapped with life but still standing. We…we were flung outside the city?

A terrifying roar broke the calm she had and Sophie jumped back in fright. The sudden movement sending her tumbling back atop the rubble, the clattering of every stone making her wince at the sound she created. To her dismay, the gathered crowd turned towards her, and soon a large sinewy bony abomination stomped into view, its half flesh covered hands holding two parts of some unfortunate knight. One of the abominations! Like from the ruins! But…what’s with all the fighting?

“My, my. The destroyer of hope, the hindrance against humanity, the accursed child of prophecy, the agent that was to-”

“So you still survived, how tenacious.” Markus growled, cutting off the ranting expedition leader.

“Blasphemer! And the last Myndiri.” The Direktor raved.

Gold Sash still showed a modicum of doubt, the hesitancy etched onto his face. The orc meanwhile seemed to look delighted at her appearance, a malicious grin on its face.

“I remember you. The one who vanished with magic. A poor hunt resulted, but not completely it appears, for it seems my quarry returned once again!” The Orc roared and raised his axe at her, “Is she expendable? If she is, then I, Grimfang, Warchief of the Crimson Eyes will be your end.”

Indeed, as Sophie’s eyes traveled across the orc’s body, besides a rippling mountain of muscles covered by leather and curs, she noted the two painted red stripes going vertically above and below his eyes. As he growled, she felt a strange sense of deja vu at how almost identical he had acted back when his warband clashed with Taurox and the others. Ah?! Taurox! I wonder if he…

But before the orc could advance, Markus held out a hand much to the orc’s fury. He pointed towards another part of the tower, where something stirred within the rubble.

“She is mine.” Markus hissed to Grimfang, “That one however, is very much yours.”

From under the pile, a sword emerged, then an arm, then the battered but combat ready form of a Duke crawled forth.

“So the filthy lessers are still around, how disappointing.” Haukr coughed, “Perhaps it is time we assist the maid further, ugh, right my prince?”

His queried lingered in the air and Sophie turned her head towards the man only to almost immediately gasp in horror. Markus for his part howled with pained laughter whilst Gold Sash looked almost ashamed.

“Right! Right! Of course! You should help her alongside your prince, no?” Markus sniggered.

Curious, Haukr slowly twisted himself backwards and Sophie could see the exact moment all hope fled the man. His grizzled appearance seemed to age by decades within that one moment, the sorrow and despair within him magnified by tenfold. For a few paces behind where the Duke had emerged lay the hopeful prince’s body, pierced by a stray chunk of crystal which suspended his lifeless corpse in the air.

Without a word the Duke charged at the hostile combatants. So quick were his movements that Markus and the Orc had to work together to suppress his attack. The hawk lord of Melton delivered vicious blow after blow that staggered the adventurer, but soon the orc regained his composure and the sheer brutal strength behind his blows halted the Duke’s attack.

“Murderers! And you, Eadric!” Haukr roared, “May your cowardice haunt you for eternity! May the pride never hold you in its embrace! Damned be your soul to the eternal void!”

To Sophie it was but gibberish, but the frown that cut across Gold Sash seemed to cast enough doubt that the Direktor was unsatisfied. With a single flick of his wrist, the bony abomination, having been still the entire time, burst back to life and used its talon-like hands to rip the Lionhunter’s left arm off. Eadric seemed stunned, shocked at the sudden betrayal. Yet, without being given time to scream, another vicious blow was delivered, Gold Sash was nothing more than a pulpy mess.

“Kill the girl! Her corpse shall provide blood enough!” The Direktor roared.

The abomination’s fleshy pus sack of a face turned towards her, the rotting flesh dangling like dried meat on the creature’s bones. Raising its blood soaked talons, it roared a challenge and charged. At a distance it was menacing, but up close she felt a growing sense of dread as the creature dwarfed her. Standing almost a full story above her, it smashed its hands down onto where she had been, the rubble sent flying. With a guttural roar it swiped at her again, this time breaking what little foundation had remained of the tower walls with its vicious swipe.

From the edge of her field of view she spied the Direktor channeling what looked to be a portal, tearing open the fabrics of reality to open the dark realm she had once seen the imposter God reside. That explains the abomination, does that-

She leapt away from the oncoming blow, the adrenaline within her holding back the aches and wounds, for now. With grit teeth she did the only thing she could. She ran around desperately looking for a weapon. Dodging a few of its blows, she could tell the abomination was growing frustrated, and with another heavy roar, it charged her position, all three of its arms stretched out wide, ready to tackle her in a deadly embrace.

Frantically looking around, she dashed towards the prince’s corpse, the abomination hot on her heels. Its multitude of feet slapped against the ground in a frenzied pursuit. Sophie dropped to the ground at the last moment, the monster sailing over her and letting out an ear piercing wail as it embedded itself onto the crystal, smashing whatever was left of the prince under its weight. Seizing the chance Sophie dashed away in the opposite direction, her eyes scouring the rubble for any sign of a weapon when a sharp pain wracked her sides. She staggered forward and almost fell, lifting up her shirt to see whatever ethereal bindings that were placed had already begun fading. Saint damned hells, argh, gotta focus, guess this had a limit to how far I could push it after all.

Grunting through the pain, she managed to retrieve Gold Sash’s sword from his bloodied body, hoping that the enchantments on it might tip the scales in her favor. With a roar, the abomination yanked the crystal out, rotted blood and flesh spewing forth in a torrent. Sighting Sophie once again, it flung the crystal at her like the javelin. With a deft dodge, Sophie managed to push herself out of its trajectory, the crystalline projectile shattering into another million fragments as it exploded on a brick behind her.

Sophie crawled back up and watched intently. The abomination reared its legs for another charge when a single flaming arrow struck it.

“Yeomanry! Aim at the monster! Follow my mark!” A husky feminine voice bellowed in the distance, “Fire!”

Sophie didn’t know what to expect, but, as she cast her gaze back at the abomination, a hail of arrows whistled down from the heavens, slamming into the creature with a fury of their own. Trying to triangulate the voice, Sophie squinted and saw more soldiers grouping up on the nearby knoll. A sense of relief flooded her veins, help is coming.

“Fyrdmen! Form ranks and advance! Drive these filthy greenskin traitors from our homes! The pride roars eternal!” A far gruffer male voice shouted out.

“The pride roars eternal!” Chorused the reply.

The ground began to quake as hundreds of boots poured down from the knoll, a wave of bodies rushing in to join the melee. Meltonian soldiers fighting the orcs outside the ruins cheered, the orcs looked surprised, but Sophie could spot their postures of grim determination, warriors that would fight to the last. The roar of the Meltonians charging forward evidently spooked the remaining cultists, the Direktor beckoning for the rest to hurry along whilst lifting his hand to gesture at the onslaught.

The abomination jolted at the command, turning away from Sophie and roaring back at the onrush of militiamen. It was only now what she found her spirit shattering, her breathing coming to a halt as she looked at the monster. Bony in places, fleshy in others, its back was a mound of writhing flesh that seemed on the verge of rotting in others. But when her eyes really focused in, she saw that the writhing flesh was not just flesh, but countless heads and bodies grafted together in a horrific amalgamation. Yet one face stood out from the rest of them, it too was fleshy and skinless like the rest, yet there was something distinctive about it, something she recognised. Riza…fuck.

Her despair grew when the creature roared once more before charging, the mouths on the back all stretching open in sync, more rotted bile spilling forth from the open orifices. Sophie froze, her mind failing to process the sight ahead of her even as the monster raced towards the militia, crashing into their lines with a flurry of limbs. I’m seeing things, shit I’m seeing things. Steadying her breathing, she turned her eyes back towards the dias, the cultists having completely ignored her in favor of focusing on the portal they created. She looked down at her necklace, the tiny sapphire still hanging there. A gift…a tracking gem more like, heh.

She considered the possibilities, as long as the gem entered the portal, then the entity would know where the cultists hid with the imposter. But is it worth it?

Grimfang’s roar of anger startled her from her thoughts. She turned to see the orc now missing a hand, the hawk lord of Melton now pointing his blade at a battered Markus, and she felt reinvigorated. Taking in one last breath, she unclasped her necklace and broke into a sprint dashing straight for the Direktor and his portal.

With a sense of renewed determination she felt as if the world slowed down around her, the Direktor only just noticing her sprint halfway through. It felt as if he was trying to cast a spell, or a sigil but she had already gotten close by the time he finished. A firebolt shot out from his fingertips, the flames nearly singeing her waist as the flames licked the hairs off her skin. But she had closed the gap, and with what force she had left she delivered a vicious stab to his stupid looking jaw, cutting out part of his jowls.

Bringing the man down, she turned to throw the gem inside when she found the same feline looking death God staring back at her. His aura proved so overwhelming that she felt her body lock in place, the same suffocating feeling in the void being felt even here. Her muscles strained themselves trying to break free and her ethereal bindings finally dissipated, her wounds pulsating waves of unbearable pain.

Arantos smiled cruelly and Sophie spied a dark silhouette emerging from the portal. As flesh formed from the nothingness the God leaned towards the portal and pointed directly at her. “How poetic, the puppet appears as planned. Perhaps now you can reunite flesh and bone, a fitting punishment.” He chuckled maniacally before he paused, his narrow eyes locking onto her balled fists then her neck. He seemed to frown before he burst out with a cackle, “Should have kept it on your neck.”

Before she could react, she felt herself being dragged backwards, thrown to the ground by the Direktor who stomped on her knee in a panic, before dashing for the portal. Thrown from the influence of the God, she caught one last glimpse of him. The God waved a mocking goodbye even whilst she flung the sword at him. The portal took her weapon with it as it winked out of existence.

Left alone, her eyes focused on the silhouette above her, a creature so hideous she could barely describe it. It was like if someone had decided to hang a coat on a coat rack, the folds of its bloodied skin drooping down, the muscles beneath clearly long since removed. There was no discernible face per se, for the key features were just not quite present. Yet there was no mistaking it. Despite the nakedness of the bloodied skin, she recognised the cat’s distinctive auburn fur where it had not yet been singed off by fire or torture. No…no…

“Nooo!” Markus screamed, his voice drawing Sophie’s attention besides the skinwalker above her. She followed his horrified gaze to where the portal was, and couldn’t help but allow herself a small smile. They…the cult…they are responsible for this…for Arantos.

Channeling the pain, she shoved the skinwalker aside, the droopy flesh creature easily staggering back, no substance or resistance to be offered from this newly formed being. She staggered across the rubble, picking up a stray shard of crystal as she snuck towards where Markus had quickly turned to respond to a blow from Haukr.

The Duke swung from the side only to be parried, the two pressing their blades together when his eyes widened at the approaching elf. Markus too unfortunately seemed to track his gaze, the adventurer breaking off his guard to spin around. Lunging forward before the Duke could respond, Markus flew towards Sophie. Yet she did not flinch when the blade flew at her heart, she only grunted when it pierced through her, for he was where she had wanted him to be. Never fight fair…as Eva says…

It was the slight smile that brought fear to the adventurer, and Sophie noticed his regret the moment he had seen her expression. But she allowed her body to cling to his sword, holding him in place as she slid in closer. Too surprised to react by this bizarre display, his hands had only just released the blade when she struck.

With the crystal shard she jabbed deep into his neck, pushing it through even as the other end punctured her hand and jutted through it. Blood coated her and the man’s widened eyes only looked on in shock as she removed it, a small gurgle emerging from him.

“H-how? Why? I-I yield.” He sputtered out.

Ignoring his words she plunged it into his chest once, the tip barely entering the flesh, only opening a superficial wound from which he recoiled from. But, before he could retreat further the man tumbled to the floor, his legs swept from under him by the Duke. Wordlessly the Duke traded a glance with Sophie and moved to fend off the skinwalker, a knowing nod shared between the two.

“Wah-it, wait,” Markus groaned, the blood a steady stream where he held onto his neck, “I-new. I…know…the truth…I can help. I know…ugh…I know where they went.”

Sophie kneeled atop him, straddling the man to hold him down. With a growl, she ripped the crystal out of her hand, the pain just another one amidst the cacophony crying out within her body. Letting her emotions consume her, she stuck her hands into the wounded flesh prying it open with all her might, the man letting out an ear piercing scream. She could feel the one remaining part of her mind yelling at her to stop, to avoid the madness. But her muscles forged ahead, her fingers digging into the man’s flesh, forcefully tearing chunk after chunk out as he cried out in agony. With a rage filled scream she smashed into his chest, her hands coated with an icy aura as she shattered his ribs, the man letting out a pained gasp. It was only when she brushed against the heart, the fist sized organ pumping rapidly that she paused. Looming over him, she stared right into his eyes, his usual cocksureness replaced by pure fear.

She smiled, unsure if tears or blood now ran down her cheeks, and with a single squeeze, she put what strength she had left and tore it out of his chest with a roar. His eyes widened one last time.

Triumphant, she breathed a heavy breath, vowing to find the false God, to punish all of his reprehensible servants. With one last sigh she lurched backwards and collapsed, the cold brick floor caressing her cheek, the lily still tickling her ear. She weakly blinked back the oncoming darkness, but her strength finally faltered, her last view was the sight of the Duke dispatching the skinwalker with a solemn swing of his sword. I-I’m sorry Riza, I’ll apologize in person soon.

Hours Earlier

Hells, this is the hells themselves, Sophie what have you done?! Annalise had sucked in her breath at the sight. The legion and tribal troops also paused, many pointing towards the tower, the sky and the monster that writhed from within a tear in the heavens. Honoured God Tesadus, may the stones preserve us all.

What little fighting spirit they had painstakingly built up shattered, no one willing to take another step inside the accursed city. Even the kingsguard seemed hesitant, the sorcerers being the only ones still doing their duty and focused on maintaining defensive wards alongside the druids. Around them shades, monsters and undead creatures tried in vain to flee the vortex above the tower, and their gut wrenching wails shook even the most stoic of warriors. High King Edward himself seemed thoroughly unnerved by it all.

Annalise felt Aryana tighten her grip around her waist and didn’t blame the poor girl. The redhead seemed a little lost without Sophie, and Annalise could only imagine how terrified she was right now. Yet, their woes were not at an end. To their right, Mila seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown, the inquisitor trying desperately to still a quivering hand.

At first the tribes had wanted to take back the redhead and be done with it. But with a little cajoling, she had convinced Mila and a surprisingly agreeable Vulen to assist her. When they presented Aryana forward, the nervous girl snapped her fingers to call forth the tiny spark, but instead of just a spark a great cacophony of chaotic wards and magics were also shot around them. It was perhaps luck that had also heralded the rapid arrival of the Meltonian royal calvary.

“Behold! Knights of the Flame!” Annalise had shouted at the gathered Frostwinders.

To them it must’ve seemed like the Gods themselves were conspiring against them. First some random half elf takes their prophetic doomsday figure, then Melton is torn apart by war, and now, when they have a chance to seize her, an entire army shows up. Annalise herself was quite thankful for coincidences, the lion knights leading the cavalry troop proudly showed off their heraldry, a brilliant red plume on the top of their helmets. Truly the flame knights, she chuckled to herself.

It was enough to delay the tribals and by the time the rest of King Edward’s army had arrived, it was too late for them to physically seize Aryana. Especially after the girl joined the initial party that greeted the riders at Annalise’s insistence.

There was confusion at first, the king’s army thinking the Frostwinders were responsible for the devastation in the city. Whilst the Frostwind tribes thought the Meltonians arrived as the flame knights. Taking advantage of both party’s confusion however, she had also claimed to the Meltonians that the flame haired girl had seen a vision that called for the people of the mountains to save the people of the city. With a knowing few words, she cowed the tribals by hinting to them that she too could reveal their original plans to take over the city for themselves. This then inspired the king to see Aryana as some saintly prophetess, sent by the spirits to aid them. After some admittedly heated discussion, he vowed to allow the Frostwinders the right to settle the lands, provided they helped him retake the city.

Annalise had also taken the liberty to quietly suggest to them the strategy in which to do so, having seen first hand the phantoms and their aversion to magic. Assault squads with enchanted weapons and mages and druids in support. Warded teams to clear out and investigate the city. An idea that was scoffed at by the chiefs and nobility, but, with Vulen and Edward’s support, both sides finally acquiesced.

They had secured the outer quarter when the first pulse happened, something emitting energy outwards from the castle. It had unnerved most of them, but with a few stern words, the allied troops pressed on.

It was only after they secured the town square next to the safe house that things went horribly wrong. Goldenlight tower was engulfed in a horrifying vortex of darkness, swirling with the screaming souls of the city’s populace. The advance halted then, everyone consolidating their positions to take stock of what just happened when the sky exploded. Above the tower, the clouds were rent asunder, yet no sun from the solstice shined through. Instead some malformed flesh like demon’s tendrils tore into the space above the tower. It writhed and swayed, the very presence drawing dread from those who would look at it. The misaligned geometry, the sinewy bits that dangled from its glistening wet furry skin.

Then, it whipped around the air, each slap echoed with the force of a strategic grade spell, like a fireball that could evaporate a company of soldiers. The mountains shuddered under their wrath, snow melting revealed the caps of the Frostwind, the icy peaks never before seen by three generations of Frostwinders. The oceans swelled into an unceasing tide that crashed against the harbor district further into the city, a small sigh of relief from even the King when they realized the waters would not reach them. So much for that boat ride, Annalise had thought.

As if the horrors were not enough, she felt another pulse of energy sweep the land and with a brilliant blue flash the beam of energy from the tower stopped. Yet, what seemed like a good omen had faded quickly when another tear in reality manifested itself. This time a single large tentacle launched forth from the new opening, itself also dwarfing the tower below. What the hells have you unleashed Sophie?

For their service to Melton, the King had promised boons of their choosing, provided they all survived. The allied forces had split into three groups; a cadre of royal cavaliers, knights, and wizards accompanied the king to secure the castle; the bulk of the royal army and tribes would secure the town itself; then there was their party and the few militia units assigned to them.

The King had wanted the rest of the crisis to be solved by Meltonian hands, ordering the outsiders to leave but offering them royal boons in return. Relegated to setting up a perimeter outside the gates and back around the campsites, Annalise had seethed at being ordered to leave at such a critical juncture. Mila, at the sight of the horrors above had fallen silent, similarly to what they had experienced at the dead village. Meanwhile Aryana ruminated quietly as well, but Anna could tell by the redhead’s crestfallen look she too was dissatisfied from the outcome.

To their horror a large chunk of the tower exploded from above the city, sailing over the city walls in a stormy vortex until it crashed over the farmland outside. Wasting no time, Annalise browbeat the militia commander in charge of garrisoning the outer gates into following her orders, feigning authority granted by the king. Releasing a troop of about two hundred hundred odd yeomanry and frydmen under joint command, they force marched the group towards the tower. Yet they had been too late, as the troop arrived on a knoll overlooking the ruined tower, they discovered it had landed outside one of the royal encampments, damaging a great many supplies. To their horror, the orcish auxilies attached to the royal army had rebelled, slaughtering many of the Meltonian troopers and skirmishing with the few knights who still held the camp.

Morale further plummeted when another rift opened within the ruins themselves, a monstrosity the size of a house stumbling out of it. A creature that, when she squinted, she recognized as the abomination that had taken the lives of her party almost two months ago.

“Form battle lines, now! Separate the yeoman archers under my command and take charge of the frydmen.” She growled, whatever cool she had bubbling into hatred.

Perhaps assuming she was but another hot tempered noble, the commander obliged, the militia forming into a section of archers and the main shieldwall.

With her eyes locked onto the target, she bellowed out her orders, “Yeomanry, wait for my mark!”

The militia waited with bated breath, the battlefield ahead of them likely the first some of them had ever seen.

“Aryana, take that tincture in the side pouch, oil up this arrow and spark it up. You can do that right?” She hissed.

She felt the girl’s nod behind her, the subtle clinking of bottles as her companion removed one from the pouch, then an arrow from her quiver. After a moment of silence, a light fwosh lit up behind her and Aryana handed the arrow forward, determination filling the girl’s eye. Annalise stared for a moment, and chose to acknowledge her with a nod. This is it, then, win or lose we’ll find out what happens soon.

“Ranging! Two hundred meters! Mark!” She growled at the men.

The duo dismounted and Aryana steadied her as she aimed. With her bowstring pulled taut, she locked the arrow in, her cheek finally feeling the gentle caress of the string as she pulled it past her. Feeling the wind as it whipped past her face, she angled slightly to the right, watching for a brief moment the mesmerizing flame that lit up her arrowhead. Loose.

Across the air it sailed, like a lance from the Gods it was flung forward and struck true.

“Yeomanry!” She bellowed until she felt her voice slightly give out, “Aim at the monster! Follow my mark!”

The silent acknowledgement of her words came as bowstrings were drawn, the sweet sounds of strings as they tightened telling her all that she needed to know. Meltonian longbowmen were masters of their craft, she knew that they were ready. “Fire!” She screamed.

As one, the archers unleashed their barrage, a few falling short but most struck true. The rain of arrows staggered the monster but was not enough, and now the orcs had noticed them too. She whistled at the commander and he nodded.

“Fyrdmen! Form ranks and advance! Drive these filthy greenskin traitors from our homes! The pride roars eternal!” The man roared.

“The pride roars eternal!” Came the reply from the militia, their voices echoing over the battlefield.

With battlecries and prayers, the shieldwall charged fourth, the free men of Melton swarming down the knoll like a deadly tide. The sudden outburst of strength forced the orcs nearby to disengage the knights lest they were surrounded. Seizing the initiative, whoever held the camp defense ordered a charge of their own, the knightly cries joining the militiamen.

“Aim at the back line and the monster, fire at will!!”

The archers obeyed, letting loose volley after volley into the orcs and the creature. Evidently incensed by their actions, the abomination charged the soldiers, smashing friend and foe alike to a point where the orcish lines crumbled into disorder. Vicious melees broke out across the entire line as militiamen, brave as they were, found themselves easily overpowered by their greenskin opponents. Those more unlucky were torn into shreds by the abomination that refused to die.

More arrows pelted it to no avail, spearmen were knocked aside like toys. But where her arrows had failed before, she had one last gamble.

“Aryana, light another arrow on fire if you can.” She ordered.

The girl nodded, though fatigue from her magic use today seemed to strain her as the sweat poured down her freckled face.

“Mila!” She followed up with a shout.

“What?” The inquisitor scowled, breaking her silence at long last.

“I need you to bless this arrow.”

“Bless the…arrow?”

“Yeah, the same way you enchant your sword with sigils.”

“But the arrow doesn’t have any sigils.”

“Try.”

The two glared at each other, but the inquisitor reluctantly placed her hands over the oiled arrow, drawing small sigils and uttering a small chant. When she finished, they waited for a few moments, and when nothing happened Annalise beckoned for Aryana to spark up the arrow. Like kindling to a flame, it burst into flame, yet this time it glowed a greenish blue, a holy fire. The trio lingered for a moment, surprised at their effort when Annalise snatched the arrow, placing it in the groove and aligning her bow for another shot. Tesadus guide my hand.

Holding her breath, she waited as the world faded away, only the abomination and herself remained. Adjusting herself a little more, she held deathly still, waiting for the breeze to pass. then she fired.

Released from its berth it arced heroically in the air, the divine flame charting a direct course for the creature. Bullseye.

The holy flame seared a small hole through the creature, the monster rearing up and howling in pain. A small cheer came from the beleaguered militia and Annalise spotted soldiers taking the opening to assault the creature further, bringing it down to size with heavy jabs and strikes from their spears and axes.

Her joy was short lived however, the abomination recovered quickly enough and soon the militia found themselves pushed back under the weight of the monster, their unenchanted weapons failing to finish it off. The knights on the other hand seemed to fare slightly better on their flank, but their lines were buckling even as they continued to plunge into the orcish ranks.

She searched the lines frantically for the militia commander, but there was nowhere to be found. Taking matters into her own hands she prayed the Meltonians would follow.

“Militia! Freemen! Rally to my position, form a shield-wall around the knoll!” She cried out.

To her relief, after a moment of hesitation the troops began pulling back. Most ducked out of the fight to reform themselves into a defensive ring around the bottom of the knoll. The unfortunate few who failed were torn apart by the creature or struck down by orcs. Even the knights seemed to have accidentally heeded her cry, a few abandoning the campsite to join up with the defensive ring.

Calculating the odds, though the humans outnumbered the orcs, she figured their overall fatigue and general troop composition of levied militia and freemen would prove but a small annoyance to the orcs. If they were to rout the enemy, the abomination had to go.

To damage the creature, she would need enchanted weapons, precisely what the knights had. Furthermore for an undead amalgamation of flesh, she turned towards the one trump card they had left. With an understanding scowl, Mila met her gaze and nodded, the two knowing what must happen.

“Knights! Follow the Inquisitor in! That abomination must fall or all will be for naught!” She growled out her orders.

Before the retorts could arrive at being suddenly considered as but another tool under a commoner looking commander, she quickly pressed on, silencing their complaints with more orders.

“Yeoman, pin the orcs down as best you can! Fyrdmen, support the knights, keep those bastards off them while they work!”

“Yes warden!” Several militiamen replied.

Though Annalise knew not what that meant, she pressed on.

“Mila, go!” She hissed and at once the Inquisitor charged into the gray, “Knights join the assault! Frydmen at the ready...now! Archers fire at will!"

The troops uttered one last battlecry and as one the line charged forwards once more. Followed by a sporadic hail of arrows peppering the orcish line. Vicious melee combat broke out, the sounds of steel clashing ringing throughout the darkened sky, and the blades of the knights and inquisitor glowing from their magics.

Annalise noticed too late a robed orc shaman who fingered her as the commanding officer, launching a fireball at her. Too surprised to react, she froze like a confused deer surrounded by hunters. Yet, she only felt the flame pass over her, her vision tilting sideways as a figure slammed them against the ground, strands of red hair now covering her face. So it was that as they fumbled around trying to recover, Annalise did not see how it happened. She had only heard the guttural cries of agony as the abomination was brought down, and the cheers that followed from the Meltonian lines.

When Aryana finally helped her up, the orcish spirit was broken. She spotted Mila standing atop the abomination delivering final judgment with a plunge of her blade, the knights doing much the same. When an armoured Meltonian knight emerged from the ruins of the tower, the orcs finally broke and ran.

Holding her breath, she scanned the horizon for any more threats and sighed, letting herself lean upon Aryana who quickly flew into a panic at the sudden weight. Yet Annalise was done, she let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes. We did it, hah, the inquisitor did it. When her eyes opened again she felt something strange, warmth. She traced the sensation upwards and found the dark vortex hanging over the land dissipating. Unable to help herself, she let out a small snigger. Sophie did it too, huh? Stupid half elf, always throwing yourself into danger, guess I’ll drag your ass back out here in a minute.

Nodding appreciatively at the redhead next to her, she met Aryana’s gaze and tilted her head towards the ruins, the girl understanding at once. A few orcish stragglers were cut down by vengeful Meltonian soldiers, but most had run off, leaving the remaining soldiers to begin counting up their dead. But as the solstice finally broke through the clouds, under the golden rays of sunshine another joyful cheer reverberated from the survivors. It was amidst the cheers that the duo made their way down the knoll towards the ruined tower, wondering just what they would find within.