Ultimate Elementum v2 [RP]

Saix

Saix

You stupid, sanctimonious dwarf
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Ultimate Elementum
~RP~


​
The Six Elements of Eternity. Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Light and Dark. Once they were revered as the building blocks for all creation until many thousands of years ago, when they were stripped from Earth by an unknown entity simply known as The Ultimate. As Common Knowledge turned to Legend and from then to Myth, all memory of the Six Elements were erased from history, regarded simply as a story to tell children.

In the Land of Lucarum, a war that has raged for centuries finally teeters on the verge of closure. Two warring Kingdoms, the Kingdom of Gallacar who believed they were the rightful owners of this once beautiful continent, and the Kingdom of Cornithia, who ruled justly and wisely for many millennia, fought their battles for dominance of the Land.

As Cornithia loses it’s final battles against the Gallacarians, the final Cornithian soldiers struggle to survive as the remaining Gallacarian soldiers sweep the field, killing all those who remain alive. This is where our story begins…




------------------------------------------------​




The stench of blood odiously infected every nostril present in this dead valley, making itself known to surrounding lands that on this day, death played a heavy hand against those of Cornithia. Gallacar was not without its losses either however, as Captains and Lieutenants spent the best part of the remaining day gathering all living, able-bodied personnel back to the command point for the briefing of each squadron. As simple as such a task should be, the sheer quantity of felled folk that littered the grounds made traversing quite onerous for the Captains, who found themselves grunting heavily after each step taken over a Cornithia soldier, occasionally giving cheap shots in otherwise compromising areas.

The battle was over - all that remained were a mere handful of survivors who chose to valiantly stand against their opposition despite the overwhelming odds against their efforts; killing but one more Gallacarian soldier seemed to mean the world to these men and women, human and humanoid alike. Such behaviour was surprising, but unfortunately for them... not surprising enough for the legions standing against them, ever ebbing away at Cornithian defences by any means necessary, be it bite, kick, garrotting or impalement.


There would be one of few who stands alone against the tide of such tactless brutality, as brutality cannot lead brutality into effective combat - such power requires intellectual coordination, discipline and rigorous enforcement of tactical procedures. His name is Turel, and he, and he alone, has lived to tell the tale of a thousand wars past, and a thousand more if necessary. Unbeknownst to all but himself and one other, he was immortal and graced with a wealth of magical ability - something which could only be used in discretion. Magic did not exist in this world, and those exposed to its sight were doomed from that moment. Any who bore witness to its usage were mercilessly slaughtered by the almighty General... friend or foe. None could know of its existence... until the Elements arose. Now, Turel and his companion could fully harness that which was hidden for a millennia - against those destined to opposed them. Light, Darkness, Fire, Earth, Water and Air: he feared them not, for mastery over Omni - over all Elements made his survivability comparatively unmatched by humans.

Turel was not human. Turel was something... more. Something dark, sinister and born with malevolent intent. Discord his ambition; hatred his motivation; destruction his goal, and the end always justified the means.




Yes, the battle was over, but the war was anything but. Cornithia had seen nothing. Nothing.
 
The wind whistled through her hair, blowing strands of white gold locks around her head as she walked. Her misty eyes betrayed no emotion as she surveyed the scene around her. Her face was cold, almost porcelin like.

An ordinary city street, abandoned in the violent prelude to the war. Children and the old had been quickly evacuated before the invading armies had taken the cities, sword clashing with sword, arrow thudding into skin, axe soaring into skulls, and shields clattering to the ground. The pungent scent of death lingered in the air.

The armies had left now, the invaders leaving the dead of both sides to be skinned and gutted by the vultures, nothing more than bloodied carrion now.

She ignored the screams of the scavengers as they quarrelled over a chunk of meat,a dn the howls of the approaching wolves who would claim the dead for their own.

And... another sound. From one of the houses near the centre of the dead city.
A trio of survivors. A young girl and older woman, and a man, older still, lying in bed, his emaciated form barely managing the ragged breaths that wracked his body.
A sick one. The stench of vomit and the pungent odour of urine reached her nostrils as she passed, and the little girl gasped as she saw the woman outside.

Avril could not blame her. In her black dress, with her pale face and obscure eyes, she seemed like an omen or envoy of death itself.

The girl shook uncontrollably. Was she another soldier. Was she here to kill the family, who could not leave because of the old man so close to the Other Side?

But she passed on. She was not here to kill the innocent. Those trivial matters were not for her.

Not for Avril Avent Fleur, Mistress of Nothingness and Manipulation.
 
((OOC: I guess its death again…))

The battle was a fierce one. Kleio’s eyes darted about, watching her surroundings carefully. Soldiers were hustling about, screaming intelligible war cries. Steel met steel, blood was drawn and bodies fell. All these were common sight where she was, and while Kleio was accustomed to blood and gore, she realized she was starting to get a little sick of all these.

Since the battle started with the Gallarcarian surprising them with a well-timed ambush, the Cornithians were only fighting a losing battle.

Kleio hissed under her breath as a body of a dead soldier fell on her back. Rushing forward, she conveniently sliced her blade into an unfortunate Gallarcarian. “Damned Gallarcarians,” She cursed, for a good reason. Right now, the Gallarcarians had conveniently encircled them. The foolish battalion leader had thought it would be wise to ambush the Gallarcarians before they managed to do the same on the Cornithians.

However, he had to lead them via the path, which would trigger the ambush. Cutting down yet another soldier, a mental image of the fallen leader sprang to mind. Her expression darkened as she continued with her literal dance of death. With every swing and swerve, her blade cut into flesh and ended a mortal life.

She was like an elegant swan in the midst of a raging tempest, struggling to take flight, but unable to.

With another graceful overhead slash, her blade went right through the helmet of a soldier behind her. She followed this up with a swift stab into the heart of yet another soldier… Then a slash accurately slitting the throat of another soldier… And another. And another.

The cycle repeats, for goodness knows how long. Kleio’s arms were weary, but her determination kept her going.

She slashes again, and again, and again. How many she had already slain at this point, she did not know. All she knew was death. And it seemed she was doing a fine job at dishing it out. Slashes persisted, again, and again, and again. The muddy ground was now a deep red-brown. Grasses were no longer green, but red.

The spirit was willing, but the body is weak. Kleio found her arms aching. She could still hold her blade in position, but she knew her fighting ability was no longer as good. More slashes, again, and again, slower, and slower. Yet, none missed their mark.

Around her, the Cornithians were falling one by one. Unlike this valiant warrior, they succumbed to fatigue early, and met their demise. Thankfully, there were still some alive. They gathered together, forming a small circle in the midst of a larger one. The larger one closed in from time to time, but was repelled.

These were the strong ones, the ones that helped win wars. As their blades cut down more of their own men, the Gallarcarians ceased their assault. Catching their breath, the Cornithians thank the heavens for this break. Kleio panted heavily, using this time to recover her lost energy.

There was movement amongst the enemy ranks, and noticing this, Kleio immediately knew something was amiss. It was clear the others knew as well something was happening. “Let’s break out,” Kleio suggested. The decision was unanimous. It was the best way to go, and it was getting clearer that it would be their only way to survive.

Dashing for a random part of the circle, the group sprinted, ready to break through. Just then, the soldiers backed away, revealing a line of archers and cross-bowers. It was too late for them.

As soon as they appeared, the arrows and bolts left for the Cornithians. At such close range, they couldn’t possibly miss.

One bolt effectively went right through Kleio’s waist, inflicting a deep gash at her waist. She fell, blood gushing out of the wound. From the corners of her eyes, she saw more of her fellow soldiers fall, until within her line of sight, no one from her side was standing. A triumphant cheer rose from around them, and as it echoed, Kleio closed her eyes and died.
 
Kyrie threw down her studded leather chestpiece in absolute frustration.

"Dirt-ridden, rat-infested, earthbound pieces of walking trash!"

Her studded leather legguards came next.

"Never again. Never... again!"

Slumping down to the ground against a fallen tree trunk, Kyrie put her head in her hands and forcibly tried to calm herself. She hated losing. At anything. But especially in battle. And most especially at the hands of incompetent leadership.

Leaning back against the dying trunk, she lifted her head to the sky and tried to figure out where it all went wrong.


*****​


They had laughed when Kyrie entered the barracks where they were conscripting the volunteer army. She wasn't surprised, and couldn't blame them, really. Kyrie probably would have laughed herself, if she had been in their shoes, seeing what they were seeing: A short, slight girl who looked like she should be out on the meadow picking daisies and pining over some strapping young lad who was courting her properly.


Kyrie didn't particularly care for daisies.


Raised as a Haari, she had been trained as a fighter. Adept with her Windswords and gifted with her Clan's natural agility, she was a formidable opponent, and like many of her Clan, was often hired as a mercenary in the various battles that raged throughout the continent. And with the recent unpleasantries, there was plenty of mercenary work to be had. The Cornithians were desperate for help. Their centuries-long struggle against the Gallacarians was coming to an end, and it was not a resolution that the Cornithians found particulaly appealing. In short, they were being wiped out. Thus, they were down to conscripting the old, the young, the mentally deficient, the criminally inclined, and anybody else who was willing (and in some cases, unwilling) to wield a blade or bow.


Kyrie had been in the Cornithian capital - at least, what was left of it - for only a few days before she realized the only honest way for her to earn a living would be to enlist in the volunteer corps. Not ready to devote herself to a life of dishonest living in a dying city, she made her way to the barracks to sign her name on the conscription sheet.


Giving the laughing men a knowing look, she signed her name. The conscripting officer pointed her in the direction of the quartermaster. She walked in his direction, seeing his puzzled look as she approached. Handing her the red vest that marked her as a Cornithian soldier, the older officer addressed her, saying "I don't think we make armor small enough for the likes of you, lass."


Shrugging nonchalantly, Kyrie responded in kind. "The likes of me has her own armor."


"Fair enough. Blade or bow?"


"Blades. But again, I have my own."


The quartermaster's bushy eyebrows raised slightly. "Aren't you just armed to the teeth then?"


"I hear there's a war taking place. Best to be prepared and all that."


Without waiting for a response, Kyrie moved over to the assignment officer, where she discovered she was to be placed in the 106th Infantry, under the command of one Captain Khamari Brickhouse. The 106th was to reinforce the 104th Infantry and the 23rd Cavalry who were pitched in battle with the Gallacarians in the Jayon Pass to the East.


Four days later, Kyrie found herself in the midst of that battle.​


*****​


The 106th had caught up with the 104th and the 23rd just before they entered the pass. Feeling more confident with the reinforcements, Captain Brickhouse decided to press his forces forward. As the battalion approached the saddleback between the two plateaus, Kyrie's senses were on alert. There was a palpable sense of mistrust resonating through the area. She could feel the trap.


Making her way to the front of the regiment, Kyrie overheard the officers chatting. Apparently, they shared Kyrie's misgivings. They decided to go around the pass by climbing a side path to the southern plateau and crossing on foot. Kyrie looked to the southern plateau, then to the northern. Immediately, her contempt for her commanding officer grew. "The northern plateau would be better."


Barely concealing their displeasure at being interrupted and gainsayed by a subordinate, the officers turned toward Kyrie en masse. One of them managed to speak through his befuddlement. "I beg your pardon?"


"I said the northern plateau would be better."


Captain Brickhouse replied, adopting the tone of a schoolmaster addressing a petulant student. "Why, pray tell, would the northern plateau be better?"


Kyrie pointed at the southern side of the pass. "That side has a tree line. The northern side does not. We know the Gallacarians are near. They know we're near, and that we have to come through this pass. They would know we're not stupid ..." Kyrie paused, letting her emphasis on the word stupid settle in before continuing. "... enough to just blaze our way through the pass. So they would expect us to go around. They're waiting to ambush us on one of these two plateaus." Kyrie turned and gestured to the other side of the pass. "The northern side is a flat, barren mesa, with no cover. We'd see them coming from miles away. Literally. The southern side, on the other hand-" She turned again. "-has a tree line that we will have to pass within 100 yards of. They'll be hiding there, I expect."


Brickhouse stood impassively, seemingly digesting the information. Then, with a sigh of exasperation, he gave his response. "Mercenary, the Gallacarians have never fought us in any manner other than in open combat. They've never fought like barbarians, hiding in trees to pounce. The northern plateau, if you'll notice, has a switchback trail that is barely two men wide. The southern, an easily traversible path that we can ascend in short order." He leaned toward Kyrie and patted her patronizingly on the shoulder. "Leave the military decisions to the military personnel."


Kyrie fumed. She was stunned at having been dismissed so off-hand, especially when she knew she was right. There was no doubt in her mind that the Gallacarians were in the trees, lying in wait for the Cornithian forces. Some small, self-preserving part of her mind told her she should slip away from the regiment and save herself; there would be a world of trouble on that southern plateau.


She ignored that thought. She wanted to see Brickhouse's face as the Gallacarians slaughtered his troops.​


*****​


The trap sprung perfectly.


The Gallacarians were waiting, just as Kyrie had said they would be. The Cornithians found themselves caught between the furiously advancing enemy troops and the long fall off the edge of the plateau in the mountain pass below. The Cornithians lost several soldiers in the first wave of attacks, but recovered quickly. Kyrie found herself impressed, considering how many of the troops must have lacked a formal military training.


Kyrie herself was a whirling dervish on the battlefield. She used her small stature to her advantage, hiding among the generally larger troops and slashing out with her Windswords wherever and whenever she got the opportunity. After absorbing the initial shock of the ambush, the Cornithians began to push the Gallacarians back into the forest. They would survive the ordeal and move on. She would have been right and thus able to shove it in the Captain's face, and Brickhouse would survive to press on. It occurred to Kyrie that there were not as many of the enemy as she would have anticipated. Though, in retrospect, that may have been why they laid in ambush; it was an effective way to cover their numbers.


Suddenly, the Cornithian next to Kyrie went down, an arrow protruding from his back. Kyrie found this strange, as she had seen no Gallacarian archers in the assault. And for it to come from behind them... She groaned audibly as the realization hit her.


Gallacarian longbowmen were firing from the northern plateau, across the saddleback, and into the backs of the Cornithian soldiers. They had covered themselves in a cloth the same color as the dirt and rock of the plateau. Even Kyrie had not thought of this eventuality. The longbows had a range of 500 yards, plenty long enough to reach from plateau to plateau. The Cornithians were trapped, and were being mowed down from behind. The Cornithian lines broke, and there was a mad scramble to reach the trees. Kyrie removed her red vest, the only item that marked her as being under the Cornithian banner, and bolted for the tree line, dodging Gallacarian arrows and fallen soldiers from both sides along the way.​


*****​


So now Kyrie sat in the forest, alone, weighing her options. She was a deserter from the Cornithian army, not that she cared about that. Nor would any Cornithian officer. After all, she only joined four days ago. No one would remember her. Plus, she was just a lowly mercenary, not entitled to anything other than her weekly pay (that she now wouldn't receive, she reminded herself sourly). She could go back to the Cornithian capital. Though how much longer it would stay Cornithian was up in the air.


She could return to the Aerie. It was home; she would be welcomed with open arms. But she was a Scout with nothing to report to the Elders. It would be pointless, and hardly worth the effort of scaling the cliff face.


She could go to Gallacarian lands. Their cities, so she heard, were thriving with the conquest of Cornithian ports, trade routes, and farmland. But she never much cared for the Gallacarians she met briefly. There was something generally... unpleasant about them that she couldn't put her finger on.


So she sat as the frustration she felt from the battle ebbed, with nothing in particular to do, nowhere in particular to go, but swearing to herself that she'll never allow someone to lead her knowingly into danger like she had with the 106th Infantry. Maybe something would happen in the forest. Maybe something somewhere would give her some direction. She grew restless.


Kyrie was an adventurer without an adventure. A dangerous occurrence, if ever there was one.​
 
OOC; Cant change my post too much as her history sets her running already. So its almost C& P here.

Huff...Huff..Huff...God damnit.... Shit!

The curses and cuss were an oddity from Carita's mouth. Training had often taught her that words in combat was a waste of strength, which could be used to thrust a weapon into an opponents throat. Then again, this was not normal combat....

~~~~~

She knew the Gallacarian Black Ops were meticulous. They, of course had actually sent agents to verify that none of the failing squad had survived or left any trace that may be identifiable to the enemy. She did not even get two days advantage when she saw pursuing agents.

Ten agents.... possibly four Birds of Prey and six fledging....not good.

To have sent four senior member of her caste meant that they want her dead. Badly. The circumstances could not be anymore dark. Just as she was about to dash off, a slight detail caught her eye.

Perfect.

*****
​

Two o'clock! Target sighted.

Osprey spotted Eagle sprinting towards the rocky ravine and instantly gave orders for pursuit. He did not understand why six novices were given to him to take along, but he was not about to let the rogue agent get away. If she managed to escape, it would tarnish their caste's reputation.

Raven, Vulture. With me. Hawk, stay with the fledgings.

Instantly, the three accelerated off, leaving the remaining seven in the dust. By observation, Osprey had deduced that Eagle was unaware of their pursuit. Grudgingly, he had to admit, she was the one with the slightest feet in the Corp. Had she wanted to lose them, it would not have been overly difficult.

Within a minute, the ravine mouth stretched open and all three sprinted into the rock strewn pathway. Like hunting animals, all three assassins vaulted the obstacles with ease. Osprey led the trio over a slightly raised slab of rock that gave them a ramp to jump off. Osprey and Raven vaulted first, landing easily 5 meters from where they jump. Vulture was not so lucky.

*****
Now!

With perfect timing Carita thrust upwards at the lip of the rock from underneath in its shadow. She knew Vulture. He had a slightly irregular running pattern which caused a slight pause in leaps. It did not affect operations to any extent, but it was enough. Her rapier pierced deep up his groin, puncturing his heart before slicing outwards, splitting open Vulture. Before the corpse had fallen to the ground, three knives flew from Carita's hand. Two embedded themselves into the back of Raven, while the third, the critical strike was parried just in time.

Tch, no matter...

No respite was given. In a matter of seconds, Carita was onto them, both rapiers out. Take out the weaker links was always the way to go. A wounded beast was always still a threat. Unfortunately, Osprey also knew of Carita's Modus Operandi and parried the rapier thrust inches from Raven's throat. It was dangerous. Her swords had stopped and have been locked with Osprey's while Raven had an open shot to her abdomen. Releasing her grip on her hilts, Carita drew her main gauche, rounded to the top and stabbed downwards at the crossed swords. All four rammed into the ground, lock in place by the hilt while Carita grabbed Raven;s weak thrust with her knife and side kicked him in the chest, sending him flying whilst stealing back her knife. Osprey, still in slight shock of his swords being locked released his own grip on his sword and reached for another dagger, but was too late. Carita had already dived above the flying Raven and plunged her knife deep into his chest.

Two down...

By now, all Carita had was her throwing knife and her hidden weapons while Osprey had retrieved his swords.

Take your death swiftly, Eagle, or you shall suffer.

His confidence is understandable. From the noise echoing around the ravine, the remaining seven were almost there. By himself, Osprey stood no chance. But eight, even if six were novices was past pushing it. Wordlessly, Carita charged Osprey. With an assassin's calm, Osprey settled into a quick draw. In an instant, he thrust deep towards Carita's chest. What shocked him was that she did not dodge completely. The strike had hit her in the lower left of her stomach, a somewhat not critical area, and Carita slid down the blade before burying the knife into Osprey's throat. He gurgled and clutched his throat, but knew his death. After all, he had sent many to theirs the same way with a knife to the throat.

Uagh....Damn....This is... a bit...worse than i expected....

Escape was not an option. Already, Hawk was leading the six novices on her position. Waddling a bit, Carita silently slid the blade out of her and went to retrieve her rapiers and main gauche. A slight smile twitched at her mouth. After giving death to so many, she knew her own was near,

Hahaha.... Come. The least i can for my sins is to take as many of you down!

With all defense abandoned, Carita dove headfirst towards the closest novice who, with cocky confidence attempted a frontal assault. He was rewarded with his head sliding into the cross of Carita's rapier, decapitating himself. Three others launched themselves from the wall for an overhead attack, but three small steps ensured all three missed. Carita jammed her second rapier into the head of the closest novice, dropping her while her other rapier sliced open the second novice's chest. Like all novice, he opted to go without chain mail to lighten weight, costing him his life. The third backed off just in time to have his throat nicked. Hawk charged in, very similarly to the way she had. It was a suicide attack, planning to take her down with him. Skillfully, bending her waist to the left, the sword skimmed into her clothing, but did not cut her.

See you in a few moments, Raven...

The rapier was just about to go right through Raven's spine when she felt two strong arms wrap themselves around her waist.

Stab her, now! Through me!

Of the four, two ran without hesitation. Their resolve had made them dangerous in the future, but their skills were still mediocre. Both, with little strength, pierced Raven and just managed to puncture through her chain mail. Unfortunately, their aim was a bit too low. Teeth gritted, Carita jammed both throats with her hidden wrist blade. As they fell, Carita's eyes blurred and by the time she shook them clean, the remaining hesitant two had launched their strike. The foremost stabbed Carita through the left lung, but mistimed his jump and impaled himself on Carita's raised knife. The last was lucky, puncturing her right lung, right next to her heart. All went darker and the slowing thumps of her heart became louder. Through her failing eyes, she saw the triumphant grin on the novice's face, that he had survived.

*****
​

Dan looked immensely overjoyed and relieved. When they were ordered to take down a rogue agent, he believed ten assassins was overkill. After witnessing the prowess of their target, he was only glad that he had survived.

Haha.... ha! Thank you god...

Dan had looked skywards for but one second and instantly, he felt a tight grip on his throat.

Urgh! UAGH! COUGH!

Fingers scrambled and raked at the hand but no results came. It only became tighter, tightening around his vocal cord and throat. A slight female voice came from the mass of dead bodies was the last noise he heard and the advice it gave never came to use.

Never...look...away...until their head..is rolling....

And in that moment, all five fingers dug into the flesh and pulled out Dan's throat.

*****
Carita weakly stepped backwards, feeling the swords slide out of her body. The dead assassins collapsed backwards. Only through sheer will power was Carita able to backpedal two more steps and collapse with her back against a rock. Her body felt cold...but then again, she hardly felt anything else. All colour was draining from her body, but then again, her skin was always pale. Smiling Carita wondered what was to happen. Hell was the most likely choice and she did not try to excuse herself. She had committed sins which she should not have done and she would accept all that God will give her. Pulling down her half mask, Carita took in what she knew was her last deep breath, finally able to smell the fresh air without her mask of her sins.

Here i come you guys.... i said ill be seeing you soon.....

With that, Carita's arm dropped to her side and her head lolled backwards, resting on the rock. Carita died in peace with her face in the open sun.​
 
Flit!

A sudden shift in her balance, and Tulah narrowly missed a passing arrow, slamming itself in a comrade three feet in front of her. Impaled in their left eye, their body slumped over another dead soldier. They had already been badly wounded, and this had just cut their suffering short.

Glancing over her shoulder, Tulah saw that the Gallacarian forces had sent forth a barrage of arrows that fell in fleets of three, giving each stack ready to load their next assault. One arrow had caught her at the coat tail, pinning her to the ground and allowing a surprise swing from a Gallacarian soldier, to slice into her left shoulder.

“Nngh...” She grunted beneath the pain but tucked and rolled between the legs of the towering soldier. Baffled as to what just occurred, the man had barely enough time to react before Tulah had unholstered her Naginata and plunged it through the man’s neck.

The man sputtered blood as his lips parted to try and call for help, but all that appeared was a mess of vowels in a shrieking scream of agony.

Tulah released the man from her weapon and stumbled forward, her right hand clutched at her wound to try and put pressure on it. It wasn’t that deep, but if she didn’t do anything about it, it could cause trouble for her later. She knelt down and relinquished a fallen comrade of the Cornithian emblem he bore on his armour. With the torn piece of fabric, she folded and wrapped it around her shoulder. It still bled... “Shit...” But there were no medics on the war field. She could only hope that it would hold for now.

“Tulah! How are you fairing?” A voice broke out in the distance, and turning over to look among the dead bodies, Tulah could pick out a form moving faintly. Holding off Gallacarian infantrymen, a Soldier in towering Crimson armour arose before her. “Shake it off kid, we’ve got a country to save.” A firm grip over her unwounded shoulder, and the colossal inferno leapt forward, lashing his sword through the armour of an opposing soldier, killing him instantly.

It was Colonel Kresh, the commander of her faction and a highly respected leader. He had deployed her personally to lead their squadron into victory, and she had failed horribly. She knew this would hurt her chances of advancing in the army... then again, so would dying.

The key was to stay alive. If they could make it back to Cornithian borders, even if their soldiers were all dead, they would maybe have a chance at saving the people. But it would all mean nothing, if they couldn’t at least make a dent in the Gallacarian army.

Fwoosh!

A spear wizzed forward, making a dead aim for Tulah. The assault was forthright and unsuspecting. Tulah closed her eyes and waited. Waited for death... waited for absolution... waited for...

Shurk!

Blood sprayed forward and marred the girl’s body from head to toe. A tiny prick in her abdomen caused her to open her eyes, and the sight before her nearly caused her to retch. Colonel Kresh and thrust himself forward in the path of the spear. The impalement had made its way through the man’s heavy plate armour, through his body and stuck out from his back; skewered like a shrimp. The man was in his late 30’s, and as an outstanding chief of the army, his life was coming to an end anyway.

“Kresh!” Tulah stumbled forward, and caught the man as he fell back. She could barely hold him up, as his sturdy frame weighed her down, heavy set with death and war. “Why did you do that?”

“Tulah... The Gallacarian army are falling... If you can take down their commanding officers, you may have a chance for the Cornithians... Go...”

“But Kresh--"

“I said go!” The man heaved as his words spat blood on the girl’s face. Tulah would never disobey her commanding officer, and she couldn’t start now, not on his death bed.

She just had to locate where the heavy artillery were coming from, because from there she could possibly find their Brigadier General. It was at this last thought that Tulah had, when an unsuspecting soldier had torn the spear from Colonel’s Kresh’s limp body, and impaled it through her from behind. Tulah’s eyes widened in disbelief, her body jolting from the attack. She wrapped her hands around the shaft of the spear that protruded from beneath her right breast. She coughed and sputtered and her voice was muffled with her own blood.

Was she dying?

Her vision began drown in a sea of blood as it blurred, her mind being taken over by the mismatched sounds of broken thoughts. Failed... Kresh... Cornithia will fall... She tugged at the spear, but the soldier behind her hadn’t finished playing with his toy. He ruthlessly yanked the tool from the girl’s body, leaving behind a trail of blood. Her body slumped over next to Kresh, her head resting on his left knee like a child on their father.

Her eyes darted helplessly, she wanted to catch a glimpse of her killer before she... before she...

An unnamed soldier cried out in victory as he flew off to his comrades, another Cornithian down.
 
Commandant John Hunter, leader of the Cornithia's 112th Infantry Battalion, saw his forces holding out against Gallacaran soldiers in the field. The Corinithians in this war where very much outmanned and outmatched. But Hunter's forces clearly had spirit, for dispite the rapidly rising number of casualties, they were able to hold out and kill just as many Gallarcans over the course of 30 minutes. That was until one of the lieutenants came.

"Sir, our forces are holding them back, but we've already lost 90% of our men."

Hunter was disappointed and sad to hear that, to him, victory over the enemy in a single battle is not as important compared to keeping as many of them as possible alive. John cursed then said, "Alright, tell any survivors to retreat, pull back in multiple directions away from the capital. We will need to keep them distracted and disorganized so they won't reach there in time."

"Yes, sir"

"They fought the good fight, I'll give them that."

Commandant Hunter, pretty much one of the oldest commanders on the field (since many older leaders died already) was forced to disband and retreat into the forest.
 
OOC:Yesterday was busier than I thought so I took time out of guitar practice today...

Soren was at his home town walking in the forest. He had chosen to stay at his home to protect it from the forces of evil known as the Gallacarian forces. The people here were always so nice to him, so he repaid them with protection, but if he were asked, he would join in the military to fight off those forces. He was mainly in the woods to get some fresh air and for a relaxing walk. The trees that rose above his height blocked any sunlight from running through.

Snap

What sounded like a twig being stepped on echoed in Soren's mind. He figured to be simply a wild animal frolicking about in the nature, so he decided to ignore it and keep walking. Birds were chirping and flying about like angels watching over the earth. His eyes were closed, he knew where he was, as he did come here often. But then there was a another snap...another breaking of a twig. This put him on the level of paranoia, but he tried not to let it bother him. Then he heard footsteps from behind him.

Grabbing the dagger he had hilted on his waist, he turned around as fast as he could to see an armed soldier run in his direction. He managed to deflect the blow from the broadsword the soldier had and pull out the dagger that he held on his ankle all in one swift rotation. In the same fluid motion, he brought the dagger he had free up and into the neck of the soldier. Normally he would go for the chest, but the armor he was wearing would cancel out Soren's blade. Then hearing another soldier come from his back again, the dagger that was previously deflecting a sword came around and sank into the soldiers stomach. He wouldn't last long like that.

Wherever they were coming from, this wasn't all they had. He kept his two now bloody daggers in his hands as he continued to walk onward, this time, in the direction he came from. And he was right. He heard multiple soldiers coming from behind him again. He turned around to see one soldier dual wielding a pair of identical swords, on with a spear, and another with a broadsword. Taking the dagger in his right hand, he threw it at the lancer and managed to get his upper shoulder. Hitting a target that is running to you can be hard. The grabbing yet another dagger from his robe, he jolted to the left so that he was facing the soldier with just the one blade directly and increase his odds of surviving. As planned, he stopped the blow from the one soldier, but what got him by surprise was to see a blade come from the foes left. It was one of the swords the other soldier had. Soren had no problem stopping it, but now he had no means for attacking. Holding both blades back by his own, something he did not foresee coming occurred.

A red blade came from the abdomen of the swordsman he was holding back. The soldier was coughing and gasping for air. His eyes had the look of the betrayed. The soldier behind him was smiling as he pushed his second sword through the back of his ally. Soren couldn't move, but he tried. Instead, he was struck by an already bloody sword directly into his bowels. He too then coughed. This must have been the chills of death. When the sword came out of his flesh, he looked down at what had happened. The wounded soldier fell first. Soren then noticed how weak his legs felt, and collapsed to his knees. He gasped for air, but could not grasp any. He then fell of to the side and coughed one more time. This time, blood came out of his mouth.

He shut his eyes, and in pain, he waited for his death. His cold death.
 
"What do you think, Sera?" The aged tactician looked to his younger apprentice, grey eyes twinkling.

Seraphyna sighed deeply, took a calming breath and turned her dark chocolately eyes upon the map laid out on the table before them. Scanning the area around them, she paused as she glanced over a rocky outcrop on a steep hill. Pointing to it, she smiled.

"Have a small party lure them to this spot. Set up archers along the top."

The Tactician nodded approvingly. It had been his initial idea too, but he had wanted to test the young girl. He hadn't expected her to be one to gamble on such risks, but he was thankful she was not overtly cautious; afterall, sometimes war called for desperate action.

"See to it," he turned to the soldier waiting on his left. The soldier gave the Tactician a curt nod before exiting the tent to pass on the message to his general. Within the hour, a small group of Cornithian soldiers would be on a suicide mission to lure a solid number of the Gallacarians to almost certain death. If their plan succeeded, the numbers against them would dwindle by about a fourth. Still not evening out the playing field, but it was better than nothing.

Seraphyna stood still, her attention fixated upon the map. At first she looked a little bemused. This was washed away by a sudden dawning of realization. Fear danced in her deep eyes as she turned to her mentor.

"Call them back."

"What?"

"Call them back!"

"It's too late for that, Sera."

"CALL THEM BACK!"

The fear in Seraphyna's voice turned the tactician's blood cold. Just what had she seen to instill such terror?

"What's wrong, Sera?"

She was visably shaking as she pointed at the rocky outcrop.

"What's wrong with it?"

"How old is this map?"

The old man paused for a moment, pondering the significance of her question. It struck him like a bell toll.

"A good ten years."

"Did you see that outcrop on our way down here?"

Again, that striking realization. She was right. They had come down past that way to the camping grounds. The rocky outcrop had been reduced to nothing more than a run down path. The rocks forming a way down the steep hill.

"Their encampment..." Seraphyna began.

"Is about a mile from that hill... and the only thing that would have prevented them from coming down that way was the outcrop leading to a massive fall..."

"Even setting them up on the outcrop, we ran the risk of them being ambushed from behind..."

"But now... it's certain death."

Seraphyna and the old man exchanged worried looks, their attention snapped to the front of the Tactics Tent as a loud scuffle began outside.

The sound of tearing resonated around them as Gallacarian soldiers burst in from all sides of the tent, swords and knives drawn. Fear crept down Seraphyna's back as they strode towards the soldiers guarding the inside and butchered them mercilessly, putting down any resistance easily.

The old tactician drew a rapier from a hidden sheath at his thigh and brandished it at the attackers. The soldiers laughed at the tiny weapon - when compared to their longswords. The first soldier lunged toward. The tactician deftly avoided the clumsy thrust and allowed his rapier to flow gracefully, cutting off the man's supply of air with a vicious slash to his throat.

The sheer cold animosity she felt coming from her mentor stopped her in her tracks. This was a man who had served the Cornithians for the best part of his life by devising the tactics of this army. Yet here he was, proving he was just as capable a warrior as the rest of them. He was a murderer.

Seraphyna took a step back, terrified of her teacher now. She collided with a Gallacarian soldier, his arms snaking around her in a vice-like grip. The stench of blood reached her nostrils and she fought to calm her stomach as it rebelled against her violently. Seraphyna opened her mouth to scream in protest, but found a metallic hand clamped across it. She fought against her captive, kicked, struggled and punched futily against the armoured brute. The soldier laughed, tightening his grip on her.

"You're going to watch the death of your master," he rasped into her ear.

Seraphyna trembled. He may have just murdered a soldier, but he had done nothing but treat her with kindness since she arrived to become his apprentice. Tears stood in her eyes as an armoured fist connected sharply with the old man's face, sending him reeling to the ground.

"Master Liu..." she whispered, causing the aged tactician to turn his head weakly to her. "I'm sorry."

He gave her a small smile, one that was empty of everything but forgiveness as the sword plunged through his back, impaling against the hard packed earth beneath their feet.

The soldier released Seraphyna and she stumbled over towards her teacher. The soldier who had performed the act of murder, slid his sword from the old man's body before instructing his men.

"She's of no use. Let the flames take her."

Seraphyna heard nothing as she knelt beside her master, cradling his head to her breast, tears running freely down her pale cheeks. This was all her fault. If she had realised the mistake sooner... if she had checked the age of the maps before they began planning.

Acrid smoke began to roil around her, blanketing her in its choking embrace, sneaking into her lungs as she sobbed.

The war was lost. Seraphyna had failed her people. How many had she doomed to die?

Her eyes began to dim as the tent transformed into a beacon of the dead. Flames burnt away the clothes upon her body, charred her skin as she finally realised she was going to die.

Collapsing against the heated ground, Seraphyna gave into the pain. It was almost over. Her body couldn't take much more.

Seraphyna's consciousness faded to black.
 
"The restoration of the Elements was an unavoidable future for you all. Death was destined to consume you, but this--"

Their bodies were warped, maimed and bludgeoned from human actions against their life. Slowly their beings were materialised into the twilight realm, residing between the mortal and spiritual worlds. They were denied the eternal rest.

The shadowy non-entity gestured, creating a levitating, slowly rotating circle out of their useless bodies.

"Your personal destinies, however, are far from welcoming death's permanent embrace. It has been an age since I bestowed unto your ancestors the power of the elements, to prevent the crisis. The time has come where your bloodline must face the harshest of all the realities. Your trials are over, children; I give to you the power of magic, the power to stop that which seeks ultimate demise."

The walls of this non-reality shattered like glass, creating a vortex of ethereal energy swirling violently around the damned.


To you Carita, I bestow the ability to manipulate the element of Water. May it serve to wash away your painful past, and assist you to bond anew with reality.

Soren, I give you the element of Earth. May this serve to prepare you for the worst of scenarios, and protect the principles you hold so dear.

Kleio, to you I give the element of Air. Your crude approach to battle should lessen with the elegance of Air. It will benefit your already-accomplished skills considerably.

Tulah, you shall receive the brightest of the elements - Light. Allow it to calm your hatred, for hatred will warp this element vastly.

And finally, dear Seraphyna, who suffers terribly even now, at your time of rest. To you I give the boon of Fire, the most unreliable of elements. Utilise your wit and cunning to use its unpredictable violence most efficiently, and it shall serve. Be warned: the fire it brings to your heart will be your downfall if not cared for. Learn to count on your friends.



The vortex erupted in a emerald blaze, slowly converting to a number of vibrant colours. The energies of red, grey, white, blue and pale brown left their respective places in the vortex, and warmly embraced its new master. Each person's wounds healed, their garb restored and their colour returned to a healthy glow, they now unwillingly took their first steps into a world they would no longer recognise - for their perspective would change irrefutably.

Their past, although still true to them all, will be but a fragment of their history. The Elements now took their place, lives brought about anew. Nothing would be the same.
 
Avril's head pricked up, her eyes turning towards the sky.Her pale face still showed no emotion. Walking on, she took in the scent of ether, like the smell of sulphur to her sensitive sniff. This was interesting. It had been yearssince such power had gathered, and now it was almost violently dancing to the whim of some other entity.

The putrid aroma of death was erased at once. Avril raised a brow and stood in place in the centre of the village plaza, arms folded. Something was happening here, ochestrated by something greater than her.

The powers. Earth, Air, Waater, Fire and Light. She could almost see this effervescent, divine energy i the sky and the cosmos. Contrary to what she should have perhaps felt, she smiled. Her rose red lips turned up as she kept her eyes to the sky. This was the beginning of it all. It marked a time destined for years to occur and it was this knowledge that triggered the cold smile.

Still, she had to play her part to. It was time to seek out her ally. Turning on the decimated village, Avril strode out of the ruins, leaving only dust in her wake.
 
Floating about in the darkness, Kleio suddenly found herself torn from the reality of death when a voice spoke to her. This was a voice that sounded so clear that it felt like pure imagination, and yet at the same time, Kleio was conscious enough to realize this was nothing close to fantasy.

“Kleio, to you I give the element of Air. Your crude approach to battle should lessen with the elegance of Air. It will benefit your already-accomplished skills considerably.”

As those words faded away into the depths of her mind, Kleio could vaguely feel the wind’s embrace around her as she felt herself returning to life. Her senses regained their initial sensitivity, and with that, she opened her eyes, and got up to see her wounds missing, and her damaged bustier restored to its original state.

The only thing unchanged though, was the fact that her fellow allies were all dead, and her enemies were all around her. “What the,” The enemy commanded shouted. “Don’t space out! Archers, fire!”

Once again, the arrows were let loose and flew towards the female warrior. Instinctively raising her blade, she was about to deflect it with her skills and restored vitality when a gust of wind actually stirred and blew the arrows grossly off course. Stunned by this sight, both Kleio and her enemies stood there for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

For Kleio, what the voice had said earlier was starting to make sense. Curious to affirm her queries, she dashed forward, willing the wind to aid her movements. Indeed, the wind stirred once again, and with such strength that she covered the distance between her enemy and herself in a matter of seconds. Without wasting any time, her sword ran through those soldiers, and once again, she was engaged in a battle- this time, with an unexpectedly powerful ally, the wind.

The enemy wouldn’t back down, underestimating the power of this new foe. Encircling Kleio, they struggled to take her down to no avail. The aid of the wind proved far too much for the Gallarcarians to handle. Kleio without the aid of the wind had already been fighting at a supernatural speed. With the aid of the wind now, she was beyond fast.

“Maybe, a lance,” She muttered, visualizing a lance as she swung her blade on one general direction. As she had willed, the wind came together and blasted in that same direction, in the shape of a spearhead. It tore through the encirclement. As the soldiers flew back from the impact, the opportunity granted by the opening created just then was promptly seized by Kleio as she made a break for it.

She may be strong now, but still, she was but only one person up against many. Using the wind once again, she sprinted away, with the enemy army in pursuit. It didn’t help that she had no exact idea as to how long her powers would last. Shaking that thought out of her mind, she focused on the road, occasionally glancing over her shoulders to see if her enemies were close.

Ultimately, it came to a point where her enemies were nowhere in sight. The city of Cornithia could still be seen, but the billows of smoke rising from the city didn’t speak positively of the situation there. Sighing, she looked around her, and saw a forest. “Better to be in there than to be out in the open here on the main road,” She noted, realizing she had been running via the main road all this while.

The wind circled around her like a barrier as she walked. Considering the potential threats in the forest, Kleio didn’t want to risk encountering a Gallarcarian and getting herself killed a second time. Keeping up the wind surrounding her, she walked deeper into the forest, when she noted the hilt of what seemed like a sword sticking out of a tree. Raising her sword instinctively, she knew there was another presence aside from herself here in the forest.

No doubt, that presence should already know of her because of the wind’s unnatural movements. Kleio thought it better to be prepared for battle as she edged closer to the tree. Circling around it, she then came face to face with a girl.

The girl seemed young, and barely anything like a warrior. However, her swords, sheathed and held on each hip seemed to suggest otherwise. There was an air of innocence about her, but Kleio wasn’t planning on buying that. Pointing her sword at the girl, she said, cautiously,” What is your business here in the woods?”
 
It was somewhat bizarre. Is this what death was? Nothing more than floating in a seemingly neverending darkess?

Seraphyna kept her eyes closed. There was a part of her that was curious to know if anything lurked in that blackness... but after succumbing to the flames, her curiousity was not as keen as it may have usually been. She allowed herself to flow, feeling free after the biting pain of thousands of embers licking away her flesh.

The voice that spoke out from this odd inbetween place soothed Seraphyna to the core. She sighed softly as they spoke, listening to their words and only understanding half of it. Elements? Her bloodline? Power of magic? It was all rather surreal to Seraphyna whose logic tried to tell her this was all some death-dream and not what it seemed.

Yet her intuition said differently. For the first time in her life, Seraphyna ignored the niggling dry voice of logic at the back of her consciousness and opened her mind to something that was completely new; and in doing so, it was like a door had opened to her.

This was knowledge. The ability to freely accept and explore entirely new possibilities.

Seraphyna smiled softly to herself as the voice directly addressed her.

And finally, dear Seraphyna, who suffers terribly even now, at your time of rest. To you I give the boon of Fire, the most unreliable of elements. Utilise your wit and cunning to use its unpredictable violence most efficiently, and it shall serve. Be warned: the fire it brings to your heart will be your downfall if not cared for. Learn to count on your friends.

Fire... Seraphyna soul winced at the word.

A flash of emerald flames and a shroud of warm red shrouded her, washing away her scars and wounds. Whilst there was a fear of the element that had been bestowed upon her, Seraphyna felt a sudden surge of anger.

Her eyes flickered open, cheek pressed against the hand of her deceased master. The heat that had been unbearable as she lay dying was now nothing more than a warm cloak to the female tactician. That anger that had coursed through her veins upon receiving her element still boiled as her eyes rested on the now burnt corpse of her former mentor. They had done this. THEY had murdered him!

She stood, brushed away the ashes from the ground and looked towards the sky. The top of the tent had long burnt through, flames billowing out and away from the main structure. Corpses littered the field as Seraphyna stepped towards the entrance of the Tactician tent, her eyes blazing much like the fire that surrounded her. The fear was gone, replaced by a seething rage at the bastards who had taken the lives of so many of her people.

"Sir... she's not dead."

"What do you mean, 'she's not dead'. She has to be. No-one could sur...-"

Seraphyna turned to face the group of soldiers that had personally attacked the tactics tent.

"How the f...-"

Seraphyna tilted her head slightly, a smirk quirking the very corners of her pink mouth.

"Good question," she replied.

"Get her!"

Three soldiers charged forward, armour making the sudden surge a little cumbersome. Seraphyna allowed the smirk to form into a smile. Her wit and cunning?

The flames behind her flared, pillaring upwards before arcing down towards the soldiers. The fire swept down like a wave of fiery sea, charring the soldiers alive in their armour. The stench of burning hair and flesh touched at Seraphyna's nostrils, but she didn't so much as bat an eyelash. Her attention snapped towards the man who had taken the life of her master and his little side-kick.

Slipping a pack of Tarot Cards from a deep pocket, Seraphyna took note of the fear on her opponents faces. It was the same terror that had taken over her right before she died. Oh... but she wasn't dead. No. She had been chosen by the fire. That which her enemy had sought to destroy her soul with had become her strongest ally.

Three of the cards left her pack, whirling as they span, hidden razorsharp blades ready to nick any flesh that happened to come into contact with them. The two soldiers prepared to bat away the cards. The first was swatted from the air to fall harmlessly to the ground. The second, however, burst into flame as Seraphyna lifted her hand and focused upon it. The card became a swirling, flaming lasso that coiled around the man's throat, burning as it tightened. The lasso was not the same as the usual lasso as it didn't strangle the soldier, but it burnt through his neck, effectively beheading him.

The third card erupted around the General. Two forms appear, wreathed in flames on either side of him, reaching towards him. As they touched his armour, it began to glow white hot, boiling at the man within. Closer The Lovers came, wrapping themselves warmly around him as he cooked to death inside his steel-coffin.

Seraphyna allowed the flames to die, retrieved the three cards and glanced back at the devastation. Tears formed in her eyes as the guilt of taking life sudden hit her, but she brushed the tears roughly away. She was still angry. She had to find the one at the core of this and make THEM pay. The Army were just pawns on the board.

Taking a deep breath, Seraphyna said a prayer for her Master before running towards the forest to the east.
 
John continued heading west through the forest. He wanted to make sure that his army was well hidden. They were going to use the time tested tactic of guerilla warfare to make up for their losses in fixed battle.

Suddenly, he heard an explosion come from the east. Sensing danger, John started running east towards the explosion. Unfortunately, many Gallacaran soldiers also heard the explosion and were heading in that direction too.

The stage was set for these two sides to go into battle once again.
 
Gazing into the horizon shrouded in trees, he was in a daze. Soren could not remember a thing of what happened, but it wasn't long before he got a clue. He felt a warm and fresh liquid underneath him soaking into his clothes. He felt it and instantly knew the smell. As soon as he looked at the blood he remembered what happened.

Rage in his breath, fury in his eyes, and hatred in his veins, he stood. To him it was slow, his rise to his feet took ages. But to the guard walking away, it was a jolt upwards. The soldier was startled, and struck with infinite awe at what he saw. without realizing what was happening, Soren screamed out "He was your ally!" It never crossed his mind that he was not touching the ground. Lifting him into the air were the trees that he had empowered, holding him up like their god.

Readying his blades he was thrown launching through the air towards his killer. The dual bladesman managed to get away from the strike Soren attempted to land. Striking the ground, the woods shook with his fury and Soren's athleticism enabled him to launch himself back up and somersault to his feet. He had landed at the base of an old oak tree. Not taking a single breath, Soren watched his foe come at him with the dual blades and allowed him to land a blow. But instead of ripping the flesh, the blade shattered and the metal shards dispersed wildly, reflecting light randomly.

Throwing his blades in the ground, roots of the old oak that he stood at jutted out of the ground about 25 feet from where he stood. The root wrapped around the mans neck. Soren listened as the man choked. the dead body was being pulled by the root as it retreated back to it's original placing. It pulled the lifeless body with it into the ground.

Taking his blades back up and hilting them as they were before, Soren collapsed to his knees. "What the Hell was that?" His breath was heavy but slow. "It couldn't have been me, could it?" He then examined his body. The wound...it was gone? But he remembered the strike. Then again, he did not remember pain. Then it struck him. He was in a black void, hearing a voice after that. Something about magic being gifted to him and others. Was that death? Was he reborn? This was totally illogical. If that was death, what had he feared the entire time? If you don't remember the pain, then death must be peaceful, regardless of what happened.

He stood up, trying to catch a grip on his breath. Whatever just happened, he would put it behind him for now.
 
A sharp, pungent familiar scent wafted into her nose, jolting her system. Carita felt her heart thumping and the feeling of blood surging in her limbs. It was an odd feeling. Mere moments ago, the grasp of Death had pervaded her body, letting her feel the coolness of his everlasting touch, yet hear she is now, experiencing God's warmth touch of life. It was an odd, startling yet comforting feel. She was alive. Bot of Carita's eyes were closed. She felt something that was holding her eyes together, but with a bit more effort, the resistance crumbled away. The sky was a crystal blue. A colour she had never, ever seen before. Soft puffs of cloud drifted lazily and for a second, Carita was happy to just lie there. Only the harshness of reality tore her back to her mind.

The same smell that jerked her awake also jerked Carita from her daze. The smell of iron and blood caused Carita to lift her head to observe. She felt blood crust in her eyes, which was probably what held them closed, and ten bodies that lay scattered around her. Gallarcarian assassins, her siblings.

No longer...however....


Training took over, as Carita began to scan the entire canyon with her eyes while maintaining a deathly stillness. Until she was satisfied that she was alone, Carita did not dare make a move. Only a good ten minutes later was she satisfied. Bones creaked and muscles protested, but Carita struggled to her feet. Stuck in the bodies of two fledgling assassins were her rapiers and her main gauche. The hidden blades on her wrist retracted as she slipped her now cleaned sword back into their housing and she began rummaging through the dead. After her faux death, Carita had very little equipment. From their clothing, she obtained a hefty purse of gold, a grapple and a few throwing knives. It was all that was worthwhile as as she began to leave, Carita paused, giving her dead siblings a second glance before she went back and planted each of their sword by their head. Carita was no longer an assassin. She would honour those that she killed, rather than leave them as she always did. With the short self mercy action done, Carita forced her body onwards.

The canyon ended rather soon and in front stretched greenlands. It was a vast difference from death valley just then. The beautiful sight calmed Carita, but she was not put off by it. She was still very close to the Gallacarian and Corinthian battlefield. She could not afford to be sloppy, lest she run into soldiers.
 
For just a brief moment, Turel looked out to the open lands of that which he laid waste, almost unable to recognise the fields he entered not a day prior to this moment. Blast holes in the earth, outskirts of forests burning, bodies littered everywhere - 'twas but a scene from a nightmare. A nightmare brought about by my own hand, mused he. Now gazing out onto the 'untouched' lands, for a brief moment the darkened clouds revealed an opening from which the sun allowed the faintest glimmer of sunlight to caress the lush, green earth. For those few seconds, Turel felt touched beholding nature's gift... even one such as himself could not avoid sorrow - if only for a short time.

'tis for a good cause, he thought. "Legions, sufficient time has been allocated and since expired for your recovery - we move onward now. If you are unable to proceed, then you are left behind. No mercy! Forward!" And at his command, a thunderous march began as seemingly endless waves of Gallacarian soldiers pushed unto their next destination, accompanied by titanic war machines that symbolised the Gallacarian's ruthlessness. Vicious catapults, giant crossbows, innumerable siege towers, huge furnaces and cauldrons the size of houses were hauled by the men to assist in their domination of villages, towns, cities and even nations.

----------------------------------

It was his preference to march ahead of the army when they were nearing an inhabited location. Now that he knew the Elements had awoken, he was authorised to make full use of his own power - of Omni - in the final stretch of the war, much to his necessity. At this point they would be much too weak to be truly effective, but alas the average grunt no longer stood a hope of going toe-to-toe for long on his or her own. The Captains, however... they were wizened. Although completely incapable of magic - as is the rest of the world - they knew what Gallacar was now up against, and were ready to face it. Not quite to the extent of Turel, it could be noted, but every measure helped in the war effort.

Turel could not leave their Cornithian city in his wake unscathed. It was not the will of his master. Issuing orders to direct four furnaces to surround the city in key points, he prepared to bring about utter chaos to the survivors of that land.

Shadow and flame... shadow and flame...
 
John made it to the area where the explosion was heard. The air smelled of burning wood, and it was almost fresh, which meant it had happened earlier. The air also smelled of burning flesh, as if someone died, and from checking the remains of one of the bodies, they bore the insignia of the Gallacarian Army.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps. Drawing his sword, he pointed it at the direction of the enemy forces engaging. "Alright, let's us start." The three Gallacaran soldiers drew their swords and charged towards the Cornithian Commandant, swinging their swords at John, he managed to block two of the swords, while the third managed to hit the shoulder plate armor. It was to no avail, as the plate deflected the blow.

"My turn." John said, moving his shoulder right into the head of one soldier, then with a swing of the sword, nearly split one of the soldiers in half. A kick to the midsection knocked the wind out of another soldier. The third soldier swung at John but he quickly removed the sword from the dead soldier and moved to block the blade, swatting the blade away. This is followed by a swing for the neck, decapitating the soldier.

Putting his sword down, he checked the damage, the sword put a significant dent on the armor, which could buff out, but what surprised the Commandant was that the strike actually managed to cut through the armor, stopping at the chainmail. "These swords are much sharper than they used to be."

Picking up one the enemy soldiers weapons, one of John's knights came running towards him. "Sir, what are your orders." John paused then said, "Come, we will need to get out of the forest and head towards the nearest allied town, if there are any left. This war is not over yet."
 
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