Ordio Legio: Strands of fate

[Larke]

Victus listened to Layla as the Legio mustered in the ruined city, perparing for the advance on Idor and Jio. The body force of the Ordio Legio would take almost a week to move to the next city and lay siege, Haaken and a lightning force he commanded had already left during the night to make for the bridge north. Victus could only hope he secured the bridge mostly intact.

[squiggle]

[glow=purple,2,300]OOC: Idor Bridge[/glow]

Captain Vosges of the 1st Idor Infantry stood back and stared through the murk of early morning at the smoking smudge that was all that remained of Aesir. Around him, sappers worked piling drying tinderwood around each end of the bridge. He was surprised that the forces of the Legio hadn’t attacked more swiftly, since the River Irgiane was only crossable by bridges and he knew that all along the river the bridges were being torched.

He turned to a group of sappers who were dawdling in bringing up the wood. “Get moving you lazy shits. Do you know what is going to be coming up that road? There is no time!” He shouted through gritted teeth. It was then that the arrows began to fall.

To his right, a man carrying a large bundle of wood was transfixed through the throat, falling to the ground. Vosges cursed vehemently and dashed over, grabbing the wood and lugging it towards the bridge, around him, men were falling under the sparse barrage and others were beginning to fall back, cowering from the hail of death.

“To your posts, ignore the arrows! If we don’t burn this bridge soon, you will face a far worse fate than death!” Dumping the wood on the bridge, he turned and dashed back to a troop of archers drawn up on the Idor side of the bridge. “If you see anything on the far side, anything at all, shoot it, and if any of these bastards run away, shoot them as well.”

The sergeant nodded and shouted some orders to his men, who spread out along the river-bank, peering through the gloom. On the far side of the river, the first licks of flame began clawing at the bridge supports.

***

Haaken grimaced as his keen eye-sight picked out the first torches being applied to the bridge. Even after running all the way from Aesir, it seemed it would be a close run thing. He turned to his men who were drawn up behind him, breath misting faintly in the morning air. “Giouki, shift your archers fire to the archers on the far bank; I do not want to die today.”

Then the Clan Chieftain lifted the ancient hammer Gunlaug high in the air. “Volsungs, charge!”

With Rerir and his forty soldiers in tow, and with arrows buzzing overhead from the forty archers arrayed behind them, the men pounded towards the bridge. Sappers looked up, dismayed as they spotted the warriors streaming towards them, and Haaken could see what he took to be a Captain dashing frantically around the bridge trying desperately to complete the task.

In short time, and with only the occasional arrow piercing their ranks, the Volsungs reached and bridge and were instantly across it, quickly cutting down the near defenceless sappers who were staggering under the weight of the wood they were carrying. As Haaken neared the centre of the bridge, the sun finally loomed over the horizon glinting off the armour of the men on the far rive bank. Haaken skidded to a stop, absently pulping the skull of a fleeing sapper with his war-hammer. The archers shouldn’t be that armoured he thought, and then what he saw confirmed his fears. A unit of heavily armoured mercenaries had appeared from the sparse vegetation behind the bridge and were rushing headlong down the slight slope towards his dispersed scout force.

Haaken knocked another sapper screaming into the fast flowing river beneath and turned to where his men were putting out the last of the blaze. The bridge was intact, but that was the least of his worries. “Volsungs, form up!” He yelled, grateful for the time spent drilling his men. The archers on the far bank had been scattered by the concentrated fire from Giuki’s men, but now the mercenaries were too close. It was obvious what the men would do-while the mercenaries held his force off, the remaining sappers would torch the end of the bridge still in their hands, and allow the flames to devour the rest of the structure, sacrificing any mercenaries who had not already died.

Haaken heard Rerir curse in some forgotten tongue and then he sprinted forwards with the Volsungs in tow and crashed into the front rank of the mercenary force, Gunlaug smashing through a wooden shield and shattering the man’s arm. He fell back but another took his place and Haaken dodged a sword thrust before catching the man high on the head with a reverse swing. The huge hammer crumpled both helm and skull, showering blood across the tightly packed men.

Haaken roared and swung again, but an insidious voice in the back of his mind told it was too late. He scowled inwardly, nearly decapitating the next mercenary with the force of his blow, and shouted out, trying to make himself heard over the insane clamour of combat.
"We have to reach the other side, press forward, men of Volsung!"

Behind him, he heard someone roar and then Rerir was at his side, blood streaming down one arm and swinging a huge axe into the throng. He caught Haaken's gaze and grinned nastily, before neatly disembowelling a another mercenary. They were forcing them back, but it was a question of time now.

[anarchyangel]

Bane walked through the masses of human prisoners with spite, glaring down at the chained humans who whimpered in fear up at him as he haphazardly crushed hands and limbs among them. Ironcutter was in his hand and wet with fresh gore, the energy backwash from the blade sustaining any need he had for life energy at the moment; he found no need to drink blood just yet. He had drunk only once since he had awakened the other day with Sable at his side actually.

It was strange. He did not feel the prick of the frenzy in his mind anymore it seemed; somehow he wasn’t sure if it would ever empower him again, but it did not matter really. The daemon-spawn’s blood had changed him in many ways, good and bad; the loss of the frenzy was replaced by different things now. A fair trade of his strengths had occurred in his opinion.

For instance, while Bane no longer contained the ferocious, wild desires of the frenzy, he did have powerful daemonic strength flooding through his body. His pale arms and black lower frame felt corded and new with the powerful iron-hard sinews and endless energy that filled him. Also, he could still summon his blue flames and fearsome aura to enshroud him; giving him a terrifying, wrathful presence. So in a way he had simply acquired new control over his former powers; he was no longer possessed by his vampiric desires. Instead, he felt control.

It was a nice change; this sense of control. It made him feel dominant and no longer enslaved by his own body. He smirked and cut down a slave, the blood spattering on nearby humans and causing them to shriek with panic.

And also, Bane had answered his questions that he had despaired over just before his fall into darkness. Sable’s finding of him had reminded him of why he was truly here; not for some petty goal to annihilate humanity like most of the Legion. He was here to avenge his many years of humiliation and pain that the humans had once registered upon him in the Circus. They had left him to die after years of living under their lash and ridicule. He had almost forgotten that during his long century living in the Black Woods.

He remembered it now though. Snarling, he reared and crushed a human into pulp under his front hooves. He remembered it very much so.

Somewhere in the corner of his mind came a sibilant voice that Bane recognized as Sable’s.

Come Bane, we have work to do.

With a snort he turned and left the prison yard, severed heads and crushed limbs appearing in his wake. Work? Indeed, they would have much work to do once they reached the dead lands with the War Master Sirius.

[dogaro]

Dinari, Sari, and Gaharn stood down stream from the bridge, watching the desperate struggle on both sides. Hope was all but lost for the force of darkness, the fire would soon burn and they weren't killing the mercinaries fast enough. Dinari looked to Gaharn, giving a command while saying nothing.

Gaharn understood. Wings erupted from his back, Strong blue wings. They carried him out over the water, to the bridge, though not the side of the evil forces. he landed behind the ranks of the enemy, his wings melting back into his body, and he blended in with the men.

A sword came from it's sheath, slicing through armor, flesh, and bone. ten men fell to his blade before he was spotted. magic surrounded him giving him the presence of a cleric, and he shouted to them, "Break in the name of the draconic gods!" Behind him an image of a blue dragon appeared behind him, striking terror in the hearts of the men. some abandoned sappers to run in fear, and some turned their arrows on the new foe, the gigantic dragon behind the small man.