Setting: During the Battle Of Regalia, as shown in THIS Progress Post.
POV: Conf Helethium
Conf raised his blade, poorly parrying a wild slash from one of the Deathlings, and stumbling to the side. He needed to pull back out of this mess and try to reorganize a line. Off the the other side of the battle, an orc crashed through a group of Deathlings, making a small corner of the battlefield safe for the Loyalists who rallied around. A large rock was sent flying by an Usurper Stone Mage, killing another Loyalists and cutting a swath through the battle field. He ducked under flying rubble, taking a gash under his left eye, then stopping to impale a Deathling through the back, coughing as it puffed into the disgusting black dust.
He was nearly to the area of stability, he could see the Purple banner waving- when the air was blasted from his lungs. He flew backwards, crashing into a stone pillar hard, his clothes singed, the tang of copper in his mouth. He could hardly focus his eyes, though he spotted a figure approaching him, arms out stretched, chanting... casting! He dropped to the ground a moment before a bolt of lightning crackled into the brickwork where his head had been seconds before, he felt fleckles of hot rock fall onto the back of his neck, though he could hardly care for that now.
He tried to grab for a stone on the ground, the size of a fist, when a booted foot whipped his head to the side and sent him sprawling onto the ground. His vision was blurred, badly, his ears were ringing, and his mouth tasted of copper still- from the lightning, and the blood now... He tried to push himself up, but with the state he was in, and with only one arm to begin with, he failed, flopping back to the cobbles.
He was suddenly facing the sky and above him stood a figure... Slowly his eyes began to focus on the Ailor Deathling, armored and clothed in red, standing over him. His lips moved, though Conf could hardly hear him over the ringing, beyond snippets.
"... one then? " He asked as he placed his boot on Conf's chest, pinning him down.
The lightning mage stepped over, nodding to the Deathling, who seemed to be a captain. The mage started to speak, but was cut off when the captain raised a hand. Then he leaned over, focusing his attention on Conf.
"... quite a bit... trouble ... have. The One Armed .... . " He sighed, "Well, you put up a good .... , though ..... end your little campaign." The Deathling leveled his blade, to the side slightly, readying to slash Conf's neck open, likely wanting to watch him drowned in his own blood. Conf closed his eyes, readying himself- and felt dust settle over him. The Mage let out a small gasp, and Conf opened his eyes quickly, glancing about. The Deathling Captain's armor clattered to the ground next to him, as did the armor and gear of every Deathling within the courtyard. They all had simply.... Died.
The Mage was clearly in shock as well- everyone left standing was. Until Conf tripped him, bringing him to the ground beside him. Conf ripped his dagger from its sheath, and drove it into the startled mage's chest before he could act, killing him as it pierced his heart. Then Conf stood, shakily, leaning against the stone wall for support, and looked around.
It was a grim sight to be sure. With the dust settled, his men had begun slaughtering the few Living Usurpers left, with many ignoring those who tried to surrender. Conf did not even consider ordering them to cease. They deserved this. For Raven. Soon, the entire area was cleared, and the only ones left standing were the few Loyalists who had survived. Of the nearly two hundred Conf had lead into this fight, only around twenty remained. Bodies, covered in dust now, lay on the floor, accounting for the other hundred and eighty or so...
Conf leaned back, eyes closed as he gasped for breath. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, he was taking note of just... how... tired.... he was. And how much pain he was in... Everything felt like it was aflame... He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the smoke-marred sky. It had been a hard fought and earned, but finally, it seemed, it was over.
POV: Conf Helethium
[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three ]
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A purple-clad man took an arrow through his throat as Conf ducked to the right with a curse. This was bad, this was very very bad. This incursion has started off fairly well, with his men- he had started to think of the rabble as 'his men' at some point along the way he had noticed- attacking a large gathering of Usurpers that had rallied in the shadow of the Azure Spire, from two sides, his main force rushing from the south while a smaller force harried them from the west. However the battle had quickly devolved into an all out brawl after his men had 'broken' through the Usurper line. He hadn't spotted the ploy until it was too late- whoever lead the Red Guards was a decent tactician. He had let his center 'collapse' and then surrounded Conf's men, slaughtering them as they pushed into the gap.=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Conf raised his blade, poorly parrying a wild slash from one of the Deathlings, and stumbling to the side. He needed to pull back out of this mess and try to reorganize a line. Off the the other side of the battle, an orc crashed through a group of Deathlings, making a small corner of the battlefield safe for the Loyalists who rallied around. A large rock was sent flying by an Usurper Stone Mage, killing another Loyalists and cutting a swath through the battle field. He ducked under flying rubble, taking a gash under his left eye, then stopping to impale a Deathling through the back, coughing as it puffed into the disgusting black dust.
He was nearly to the area of stability, he could see the Purple banner waving- when the air was blasted from his lungs. He flew backwards, crashing into a stone pillar hard, his clothes singed, the tang of copper in his mouth. He could hardly focus his eyes, though he spotted a figure approaching him, arms out stretched, chanting... casting! He dropped to the ground a moment before a bolt of lightning crackled into the brickwork where his head had been seconds before, he felt fleckles of hot rock fall onto the back of his neck, though he could hardly care for that now.
He tried to grab for a stone on the ground, the size of a fist, when a booted foot whipped his head to the side and sent him sprawling onto the ground. His vision was blurred, badly, his ears were ringing, and his mouth tasted of copper still- from the lightning, and the blood now... He tried to push himself up, but with the state he was in, and with only one arm to begin with, he failed, flopping back to the cobbles.
He was suddenly facing the sky and above him stood a figure... Slowly his eyes began to focus on the Ailor Deathling, armored and clothed in red, standing over him. His lips moved, though Conf could hardly hear him over the ringing, beyond snippets.
"... one then? " He asked as he placed his boot on Conf's chest, pinning him down.
The lightning mage stepped over, nodding to the Deathling, who seemed to be a captain. The mage started to speak, but was cut off when the captain raised a hand. Then he leaned over, focusing his attention on Conf.
"... quite a bit... trouble ... have. The One Armed .... . " He sighed, "Well, you put up a good .... , though ..... end your little campaign." The Deathling leveled his blade, to the side slightly, readying to slash Conf's neck open, likely wanting to watch him drowned in his own blood. Conf closed his eyes, readying himself- and felt dust settle over him. The Mage let out a small gasp, and Conf opened his eyes quickly, glancing about. The Deathling Captain's armor clattered to the ground next to him, as did the armor and gear of every Deathling within the courtyard. They all had simply.... Died.
The Mage was clearly in shock as well- everyone left standing was. Until Conf tripped him, bringing him to the ground beside him. Conf ripped his dagger from its sheath, and drove it into the startled mage's chest before he could act, killing him as it pierced his heart. Then Conf stood, shakily, leaning against the stone wall for support, and looked around.
It was a grim sight to be sure. With the dust settled, his men had begun slaughtering the few Living Usurpers left, with many ignoring those who tried to surrender. Conf did not even consider ordering them to cease. They deserved this. For Raven. Soon, the entire area was cleared, and the only ones left standing were the few Loyalists who had survived. Of the nearly two hundred Conf had lead into this fight, only around twenty remained. Bodies, covered in dust now, lay on the floor, accounting for the other hundred and eighty or so...
Conf leaned back, eyes closed as he gasped for breath. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, he was taking note of just... how... tired.... he was. And how much pain he was in... Everything felt like it was aflame... He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the smoke-marred sky. It had been a hard fought and earned, but finally, it seemed, it was over.
