Snippet #1451678

Laeral, Boulon Brother's Inn

A rap at the door startled Wrath, despite the fact that he had been expecting one sooner or later. The lead of the pencil he'd been writing with was broken and a long line slashed across a few lines of words. By the Burning Dark! The man abruptly stood up, the legs of the chair scrapping loudly against the wooden floor. On the bed, Sid mumured somethingin her sleep and turned over. Wrath stomped his way over to the door swinging it wide. He knew it was useless to be angry for something that was clearly of no one's fault...and the rage ebbed anyway.

Before him was a dusky skinned nightmarian woman. Statuesque too. Wrath was sure what exactly prompted him to think that the visitor was a nightmarian, but his suspicions were confirmed when he caught a glimpse of her plated hands. Without waiting for an explanation as to her appearance, Wrath produced a stamped seal of approval and handed it to Neira. "You're hired. Meet us on the main road at sun-up."

The door was summarily closed. Wrath slumped against it on the other side with a hand to his chest trying not to breath to heavily. A shudder passed through him as he closed his eyes in concentration. Nightmarians. They always evoked something...alien, within him. With a shake of his head Wrath moved to dous the candle and crawled in to bed. It was late, and if the legonnaires should have been in bed by now. If not...well, he would decide their punishment in the morning.

---

Laeral, South Road

"Alright soldiers! Form up!" Wrath stood before his new legion in a much more professional garb. He was dressed in form-fitting black leathers with the insignia of the Legion of Ashes on the breast; A gray dragon skull, as if blackened by fire. On his back was a thin-necked lute made of some yellow mineral. He pointed towards a large wagon loaded from top to bottom with supplies. On the back were more than twenty sets of similar clothing. "That, is your uniform. Each is made of Live Leather." A nickname for leathers made from the hide of shadow drakes. It would fit itself to the body of whomever donned it, and provided slightly more protection that boiled leather. Best of all, since the shadow drakes had been domesticated and farmed like cattle during recent years, it was cheap and mass-produceable. "There are fifteen sets of light armor, ten sets of armor with steel plating for the heavier warriors and five sets of robes just in case armor encumberance intereferes with any of your spellcasting. You've got ten minutes to get suited up!"

The minutes passed by and as the darkly clad legonnaires took up their positions once more, Sid awaited them this time, Wrath was taking stock of the supplies one more time. The halfling fixed her troops with a blank look. She was wearing a minature version of the Live Leather armor, a contraption nearly her size strapped to her back. "Good morning. We will be marching soon, and before we set off, I am required to set some ground rules. First of all: You are required to wear the uniform when on active duty. Second: You may use your own weapons, or choose from those on the battle-cart. Third...you must know what you are facing." Captain Grimsmirk paced, the rising sun silhouetting her form against the reddening sky. "Some of you have already faced our enemy, the Children of Fire, in combat. There are four rules to follow when fighting them:"

One. Stabbing them won't bring them down. Not like it would a normal adversary anyway. The Children have supernatural resilience to damage and can survive what most people would consider mortal wounds. Their pain threshold is ten times that of any normal man, and their physical prowess are doubled. Worst of all, each and every one of the bastards can shoot gouts of dragonfire. Not even nightmarian shell can resist it's burn." Sid's visage brightened for a moment. "Bright side? Non of them have any grasp of magic. So no lightning bolts from the sky to smite us."

By this time Wrath was back in front of the platoon. "Stay in groups of two at the very least while in combat. Each Child on their own is more than enough to bring some of you down. They lack compassion. They know no pain. They believe they have the power of gods on their side...for all we know, they just might." He motioned for Sid and Iriana to sit on the front of the wagon and take the reins. "You will be given further instruction upon arrival. Move out!" With only the barest amount of grumbling, the legion followed the wagon and began it's journey to aid their fellow legionnaires, trudging down the dirt road. Miles ahead, storm clouds loomed over like an ominous shroud.

---

The Jurial Plains, ???

All through the night the Children had pursued their quarry with unrelenting force. The elven captain, Zakair, drenched from the rain smiled at the dark sky and peered into the tree line. The last two members of the Legion that survived the initial onslaught were still in the forest. The halfling legionnaire had been harrying Zakair's troops with a slingshot and crudely designed traps. Yet, he had been wounded by the captain himself, and the halfling must have passed out by now from bloodloss. The nightmarian on the other hand...the thought made Zakair screw his face up in a scowl. She had killed seven out of his fifty-five Children herself, and made it within an arrowshot of the town of Laeral before they managed to herd her back to the forest. Zakair allowed his white hood to sink to his shoulders and nodded at the nearest four Children.

"I want the spider bitch alive." Zakair turned his gaze upon the quintet of crimson-robed Children, his lip upturned in a sneer of disgust. "Arcanites. Stay with me. Our scouts have reported another legion converging on our position. We shall deal with them in the same manner as the first..."