Hytorax Part 2

[Tessar]

"They know we're here,"

The thought flew through Elise's mind as she raised her staff and made a swinging motion. There had been too many distractions and stalling for the enemy to not know.

A wave of energy left Elise's staff, slamming full force against the commander and throwing him back into two of his soldier's. As they tried to disentangle themselves and get up, Elise yelled a command, pointing at one of the other Soldiers. Instantly he drew a dagger and slit his fellow guard’s throat.

"MOVE!" Elise cried to her companions, already stepping forward into the fray herself.

[Arat-Falathion]

"Surrender, and we may spare your life, and that of your friend."

At first the command pleaded her, what seemed to be the only solution. She had really dug a hole so deep that she couldn't get out, and in that, Tareod and Fimbren wouldn't likely survive eather, and where was Elise?

A fire awoke in Iriana... if Elise was alive, and they started a fight here, perhaps she could get into the heart of the complex and snatch the hytorax without much trouble... a nobel death that would be... and with the thought came the song to her once again, the veins on her hand clutching the sword suddenly visible through the skin, her eyes setting aflame.

"MOVE!"

Iriana had heard nothing of Elise entering the room, but she recognized that voice, and suddenly the soldiers were advancing on her. Without any way to explain her movements, Iriana fell to one knee and reversed the sword backward, in the same instant the wind of a passing sword cought her hair, and then the yelp of a dying man. She spun in a circle back to her feet, parried two swords stabbing for her at once, before she reversed the motion and cut down one of them. Even before the dead soldier had hit the ground, two more were beside him. She feinted an attack, putting the three soldiers into a backstep. She knew better than to follow though.

She turned an ran towards Tareod, who was engaged with two soldiers. They would stand a better chance to survive if they stuck together...

[Mathron]

The fury of the companion's assault bought them time to join together and drop a few of their enemies. Fimbren grabbed his blade, though he had no time to garb himself in armor. Iriana dropped an enemy and reached Tareod's side, the two of them easily falling into fighting, back to back. Given another moment of shock, they could almost have won the battle there.

But the soldier's didn't give it to them.

Elise's magic hurled the commander out of the fray and into his comrades, but he somehow managed to twist his body and slip out of the tangle with ease - and then launched himself into the air in an acrobatic display of skill that defied his apparent age.

"Battle of the falling moon, now!" he barked out as he soared over his men toward Elise, and they immediately reacted to some preplanned strategy.

Four men moved to surround Tareod and Iriana, moving in perfect harmony with each other. Their blades were darting and whirling in and out, a spinning wall of steel that gleamed like falling stars. Their strategy was immediately clear - keep Iriana and Tareod pressed and on the defensive, while keeping enough of their own guard up to prevent any killing blows from getting through. In short, keeping the two heroes busy and exhausted until the other warriors could join them.

Fimbren got three enemies himself, but they didn't bother with such tactics. They grinned berserker grins as they charged his armorless form, their blades spearing the air - one towards his chest, the other to his bottom left, the other to his upper right. He tried to parry one blade while dodging backwards, and was shocked at the strength behind the blow. Though he was able to evade the attack through speed alone, his arm was left ringing from the block. The three of them didn't even slow, but immediately spun into whirling slashes aimed at his legs and torso.

As for Elise... well, the rest of the attack was aimed at her. Two soldiers moved to flank her, while the ones she had dropped prone sprung to their fleet and began moving towards her.

And above, the commander came soaring in. As he closed, he flung a small pouch at her. In the air, it unfurled and released its contents - a cloud of diamond dust.

She got her cloak up in time to keep it from her face, but could feel it sting even so. And should she breathe in any of that... she felt a cold chill inside at what a terribly vicious weapon it was.

Behind her, the commander landed, launching into a flurry of motion - numerous attacks, none of them strong enough to kill, all designed to keep her occupied and distracted from spell casting.

His eyes promised death.

[Lief Erikson]

Athalt's men stormed ahead, smashing aside the forces before them. The fleeing soldiers before them were scattered, all order broken. The flying colors of Enedwaith soared over Athalt's head, a brilliant spectrum in the breeze revealing a blaze of light and color to grant spirit to the men. The soldiers of the army were running forward. Power flowed in their limbs. The enemy could not stand before them. Though they had won, now they were all collapsing. The enemy forces of the Shadowhand had been beaten.

Or so it seemed.

"READY POSITIONS!"

The voice barked out the order from the far end of the battlefield, a place as yet untouched by combat. Athalt shook his head, slightly, his heart again feeling a glimmer of forboding. There was a solid wall of mighty orcs there. They were the Great Orcs, armed from head to foot in black armor, black towers of muscle and speed. They were giant killing machines, well disciplined and ferocious.

Blades arched forward, swishing from the black leather sheaths and belt loops. The black jagged edges were in ready positions, their masters' yellow eyes blazing in hot expectation as they looked upon the charging ranks of bold Enedwaith soldiers.

"We cannot give up the charge," Athalt told himself, softly. "If we give up our momentum now, they'll break us in an instant. Already they outnumber us, and they are fresh. We need this advantage. This charge is here, now. This charge is for Enedwaith, our final hope.

"ON!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. He raised the flag pole like a spear, aiming its sharpened point into the jaws of the organized killing machine before them. "ON, NOW! ON, FOR ENEDWAITH!"