Scuttling movement of metal and scales clunking and rattling against themselves. Splashing through murky waters towards their enemy. Horrendous screeches of monstrous amalgamations of fur and claws echo from above. The sewers were unsettled by the pounding of shields against monstrous sanguine beasts. The Old Town was ahead of us, moonlight shining our inevitable breach. The sound of the vampiric assembly grew in strength with each careful step. It did not matter… they're all here. This is our chance. The scaled being steeled himself and led the emergence out of the tunnel and around the bend. He called forth in a guttural roar, "Charge!".
Black smoke choked the air which for better or for worse covered their scent as they approached the horde. Success. The initial clash of swords, teeth, and claws was unbeknownst to the Sanguine despot and his dark forces. The Digmaan charged forth with the entourage of Regalia's defenders into the fray expectant of his allies counter push from the front. All according to plan…
He raised his hands and grasped the body of an approaching brood. Claws sank into the metal and used the man as a shield, but something had pierced his gut in the process. Pain can be shrugged off. Blood filled his nostrils, and in an instant he was surrounded. The Digmaan thrashed about, his tail swung like a mace knocking over two assailants from behind but to no avail they pressed him in a swarm of blades. His improvised man-shield suffered underneath the onslaught of a Varghoul fast upon the Digmaan. "Keep fighting! The Varghoul are upon us, don't relent!" he screamed to the top of his lungs, his last order he managed to get out before taking a blow to the head. Knocked to the ground by the bat creature's fist the Digmaan's vision went dark, and he felt himself enter a cold place.
"Do you believe the Regalians to actually /respect/ you, Digmaan? You're but another conquered race to be utilized as fodder for them… You're foolish to think they'll come to your aid and follow command." the Desprince sneered, staring down the Digmaan as they tested each other. A territorial joust, but the gate made it feel like a conversation held miles apart. "All I do, I do for my people. The Empire is my home. This little uprising of yours will be quashed by the unified force of Regalia." the Digmaan stuck to his values and rest his hands upon his hips glowering. Severely lacking in any jewelry as he expected there to be conflict. He would make sure of it. They were all here after all. The Desprince retorted with his own quickened words, expectant of the outcome he insisted, "Why not drop the gates then? We can truly test and see which side is strongest?" a challenge the Digmaan already had on his mind. "You needn't worry about your kin if you surrender. I'll spare your district from the crimson shroud if you turn on your captors.", the Digmaan didn't give it much thought and snuffed, "Prepare yourself, Desprince." and with that he turned about to view the many faces of Regalia spectating his parlay.
Ringing filled his hearing. His vision was blurred, face down upon the blood stained cobble road. The Digmaan rest his hands flat upon the road and pushed himself up onto his knees. Fire licked the edges of what remained of the bridge just behind him. The main force gawked from the other side. He turned his attentions to his own, all he could see were a frenzy of blades and bodies. He had blood in the eyes, a gash upon his head seeped. The tantalizing smell of the fresh cadavers sent the Jogro into hysteria with the creatures of the night all around them. They spun like tops, bodies trained as weapons. It wasn't enough, the scaled warriors couldn't reacted in time to the sheer numbers surrounding them.
Reprieve never came.
Feathered warriors were splayed out by the approaching behemoths, broodlings surrounded Vigilants and stabbed aggressively. The streets of the Old Town were dyed red. Black smoke carried by a distant wind spread across his field of view. The Digmaan attempted to stand but to no avail. He could hear them falling to the ground like dominos. Dizziness, the sword from earlier was still lodged within his abdomen. He fell back against the wall and reached his hand out. The general didn't surrender to his injuries and cried out his commands to men still standing he could spot within the fray in a desperate attempt. He made it his business to recognize his troops. He wanted to succeed.
He hacked up a clot of blood, hoarse of breath, he gave his commands from the ground. It was all futile, they've been routed. The bodies of scaled ones layed strewn about the road around the Digmaan. Was this the prophecy he received long ago? It rang through his very soul.
"Scales will flock to you in droves, you've become their beacon."
"Black scales will propose an offer you shouldn't refuse."
"The month ahead is one dipped in blood, it will fester."
"You will find peace amongst a frenzy of blades. They shall mourn."
The wizened old Es-Allar hag cackled. Her hands swirled about the crystalline ball on the table. Opium trails blurred this recollection.
"Black scales will propose an offer you shouldn't refuse."
"The month ahead is one dipped in blood, it will fester."
"You will find peace amongst a frenzy of blades. They shall mourn."
The wizened old Es-Allar hag cackled. Her hands swirled about the crystalline ball on the table. Opium trails blurred this recollection.
A shadow loomed over him. An aura of murderous intent, permeated with the thick smell of blood. The Desprince came into his darkened view, grasping the Cro-Allar by the back of his head. "They never came for you." he repeated this, head tilting into view of the Cro's good eye. "I'll die on this field of battle- with honor… I care not-" he was cut off from his body reacting harshly to his wounds. The Cro was sluggish and could barely move, sitting there in a pool of crimson. "I'm going to spare you… for you bothered to parlay with me." a sense of pride overwhelmed the Varlord as he loomed over his victim. "I.. I will return for you-" the Digmaan coughed up on his own blood, "This isn't the end if you… let me go.". Their exchange went on as the last remnants of Regalia's forces fell.
The Desprince reached for his earring and ripped it free.
"I expect you to." he then rest the earring within the Cro Allar's hand.
The exchange amid the chaos was slow, teped. It was a calm conversation of respect which held itself well amongst the slow settling conflict. Sanguines feasted in peace as the Desprince finished with his enemy. A simple command given by the waiver of his hand, they began to clean up after themselves. The Allar survivors and corpses were piled up and taken away. The Digmaan slowly slumped to his side blacking out as the Varlord departed. A beast approached to whisk him up and bring him to the court as his master was not finished seeing to his captives.
He held the body of an Al-Allar and approached the fallen bridge with survivors at his flank. Hours have passed, the sun was just peeking past the walls. The Digmaan mustered what pride he had and crossed the plank set out for them by remaining parties searching for survivors. He declined any attempt for aid, or consultation, vision kept forward. His Jogro look up to him with one simply question, "What shall we do now?"
"We do as we always do Allar, we endure."
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