Snippet #1594155

Nhil's Camp

"S-Sir!" the courier that came stumbling up the hillside that High Commander Derenthi and general Liu-Wen resided was clearly wounded, but she seemed not to notice. Scrambling up the hillock with all the speed her spindly frame could muster, the scout quickly uncapped the leather carrying tube and withdrew a scroll stamped with general Yuzu's mark. "High Commander, word from the northern front."

Nhil quickly took up the missive and called for a medic to tend to the courier's wounds as an afterthought. The deep human scanned the contents of the letter and furrowed his brow as he did. Wrath, wearing the pendant, suppressed his normally curious desires and calmly waited for his superior to relay and pertinant information. Nhil must have read it twice, for there was no more than two paragraphs on the paper and he was taking much too long. By the end of it, Nhil was staring through the paper instead of at it. At length, the commander finally spoke, his words quiet and absolute. "We are withdrawing, Herrick is lost."

"Sir..." Wrath was stunned. A flight of magic-resistant dragons approaching had not been enough to balk Derenthi into retreat, hells, he even laughed it off. What could possibly make him call for a full withdrawal? Not one to question a superior officer, Wrath complied none the less. "As you wish. I will sound the retreat-"

"That won't be necessary. Those in the city, even on the walls are dead already. There is a second, much larger flight of dragons coming as well as the first." Nhil stared his appointed general in the eye, measuring his reaction.

He needed not have, as Wrath merely nodded and turned on his heel, shouting orders to get the ballistae and siege-engines packed and ready to move. Nhil stared at his back, smiling to himself. The charm works very well. It was good that I chose to include his father's sense of the greater good over the whole...the obedience for martial law was a nice touch too. Thank you Miralight... the deep human looked to the west, into the dark sky and stared as if he could see something far off. Now, why on earth would Gurthenemon and his reds be coming to reinforce Nihalistrix's territory?

---

The soul-captured charm hit the ground with a slight clink as Wrath made his way through the camp. He loosened his live-leather jerkin and shrugged off the flambouyant cape. Fuck. That. Noise.

He had become aware of the second conciousness that inhabited the charm some time ago. Every time he donned the pendant, as well as the urge to wear it more often when he took it off was a strong hint at magical compulsion. Wrath chaffed at the thought of being someone elses plaything, and had been slowly working up his own resistance to the effects of the charm. It had only been a matter of time before someone up-high slipped up, and this counted against the chain of command heavily. As Wrath neared the end of camp, the last eight darkgards under his command formed up behind him upon being mentally signalled. The general simply walked out of the busy camp without being questioned; Nobody wanted to risk angering Nhil's lapdog.

---

Herrick, The Wall

With no attack from the opposite side forthcoming, the dragon-controlled city rallied near the center-line of Herrick. Only two-hundred Children of Fire remained out of the three-thousand or so citizens, but each was the cream of the crop and lead their troops in the defense. Despite there being only one enhanced Child for every four normal defenders, the citizens of Herrick seemed to have formed a stable defense. The allies were defended primarily by pikemen, as the wider area became killing-grounds for Child archery and dragonfire.

Sid swore loudly and fired the last bolt she had for her wallarmbrust into the chest of a lamian child. The lamia staggered, summarily ripped the bolt from her breast and parried an attack from a legionnaire before skewering him on the end of her scimitar and orienting on the next foe. Sid growled and stopped staring through the scope the glance at Alistair. "Not a peep. We should have the city in a matter of hours once Derenthi and his men get their asses in gear--pardon my dwarvish.

"You have wings. Gather up any harpies you see along the wall and join in the hit-and-runs above the enemy." Sid clasped the rope and shot Alistair a sharp glance, drawing a dagger with her free hand. "Try not to require too much cover..." the halfling bit down on the metal and rappeled down with great speed. Faintly, one could here her slurred mutterings about only being able to throw a knife so far.

---

"Kisikoni-fucking-Ayalen, shut up." Pel moved her hands across Kisikoni's legs rapidly and pressed down in certain places as she did so. Her magic was being partially rejected, a rare occurance in which some opposing spiritual force negated a portion of holy energy. The halfling was forced to apply great amounts of heling power to the worst areas on her patient's body instead of one full heal. By the end of it, Pel was panting from the exertion of channeling so much power and slapped Kisikoni's live-leather. The armor dug into the deep human's skin and began to knit flesh where magic had failed to do so.

Damn, deep-human. What happened this time?

---

Herrick, Interior

Xeron watched Neira's sudden multiplication with rapted interest, spinning around in mid-air to keep all of them in sight. The dark elf wondered what more there was to this, and was rewarded with a sudden dulling of the senses. His own resistance to psionics made Neira's ability feel like nothing more than a minor disturbance for a second or two, before becoming clear once more. Xeron frowned as much as his stitched mouth would permit and crossed his arms. His crimson robe fluttered for a moment in annoyance as well. Is that all, pure-blood? the dark elf waved a hand as if to brush away Neira's display, I expected more. Maybe you should practice with me instead of some halfbreed, hack of a mentalist.

Without having given any prior warning or preparatory movement, Xeron was mere inches away from Neira and running a hand down her cheek as if he had been there for quite a while. For all she knew, he had. If Neira looked hard enough, she would notice that the smoke around the city had thinned out quite a bit as opposed to the plumes of smoke a moment ago. That, is how you perform a blank. You just lost one-hundred and fifty-seven seconds of time. indeed, in the short span of time winds and water from the townsfolk had helped to douse the fires. You look positively radiant while frozen in time. Now, Xeron backed off, floating further into the air and resting as if on a divan. Are you even heterosexual? I can't imagine you in any sort of embrace with another living creature...

Nine, thirty-foot high and porcelain-white dragons were perched along the wall opposite to where Sid's forces were descending into town. They looked like massive marble gargoyles, simply staring down into the city. Nobody had seemed to notice their magically-covered arrival and it took a minute or two for the remaining army of Herrick to loose a ragged cheer for the arrival of their gods.

Xeron was fully focused on the white dragons and his shoulders sagged slightly. After a long pause, the Silenced pointed at the smallest dragon that seemed to be deep in thought. That is my 'handler', Hasekka'ja. She is one of the few psionic dragons...and she knows you are here.

He looked to Neira with a longing gaze that quickly grew malicious once more. We better finish quick. a mental vice would begin to crush Neira's psyche while Xeron advanced on her from the front, a psionic blade waiting in hand.

Eight of the nine dragons sprang from their perches and tore into the front lines of the Legion soldiers. All around the legionnaires were forced back inch by inch in their escape from tons of scale, fang and death. All that was, except for the two dragons in town square. The legionnaires were holding steady due to a pair of black behemoths grappling with the pair of whites. Between them, a bandaged Beelzes waved her good arm around like a deranged maestro while her summoned Daergoths attempted to beat back their respective dragons. Beelzes knew they would not last long, but the ranged fire from the Legion would do some damage to a distracted dragon.

Back on the wall, Hasekka'ja opened her eyes and stared at Beelzes from her perch. The psionic dragon reached out with a chain of purely mental energy that only a true psychic would see, much less sense. She intended to enslave the little warlock and make her into one of the Silenced.