Leciber's Rest
The Abyssal Wars
By Aidan Wallace
Chapter I
A great surge poured from two distant hills. The full force of a fledgling war gathering was descending upon the outnumbered battle team from all sides. Even the sun was against them, pouring a decreasing amount of light onto the world, shadows crept forward hiding the Hordian geamancers that stalked the flanks of the crowds, sending shards of rock at unprotected soldiers. Slowly, Crucia's contingent would be forced to flee, if an oppurtunity actually appeared.
"Oh Vinis, they'll tear us to shreds if they get too close," shouted one of the constables by Crucia's side. "Why didn't you request hand cannoneers or iron fists for this? We're not two miles from the Badlands."
Crucia ran his hands through his knotted hair, holding his helm by his side. He was still mounted despite the rain of arrows pouring down overhead. The constable stared at him with intent until his commander grunted and dismounted.
"Right, send the men into tight formations, pikes in front, archers spaced in between, allow the hordians to batter themselves against us, and have Elimini assassins take out those damned geamancers before they get clever and rip a void into the earth."
It may have been too late for the new defense, already enough casualties had been dealt that the hordians were picking up dropped weaponry in exchange for their own handcrafted daggers and cutlasses. One large beast roared and hoisted a large hammer above his head and charged into the fray, sending two of his own flying back. It growled and was about to wreak havoc through the forming lines when a ranger positioned high up fired a single arrow straight into it's eye. The mob boss took two steps, staggered and fell, sending scurriers fleeing and crushing those who could not escape in time.
Crucia thought back to his asignment conference with the Council. He had dismissed the chance to take Empire Knights over the militia, his pride was so staggeringly high, what would the halls of glory depict him as if he never took risks? Although he'd have to make it out of this alive first.
A tree crashed in the forest ahead and the fighting slowed slightly as both sides tried to glimspe the creature eminating from the misty darkness. More trees felled and even the hordians grew impatient, some splintered from the initial assault, pulling back to try and work out what was coming from behind, fortunately for them, it was an ally. An abyssal lumbered into clear sight, the fifteen foot high beast was pink skinned with two small black eyes and stained teeth. It wore scars on its back from the whip cracks of taskmasters and it gripped a tree bow in one hand, the other was mutated into a sort of claw like appendage. It's neck was adorned with skulls and Crucia shivered. It was time to pull out, the survivors would have to sneak through the dead of night to make it to Fort Deliverance in the morning.
"Retreat!" Shouted Crucia suddenly, he clutched the arm of the bugler and he forced a dry squeak from the unworthy instrument.
"For Vinis sake man wet your lips!"
He did, shakily and then tried again, this time a short, sharp yet lyrical note vibrated outwards and was lost in the heat of battle, the men heard verred back just in time to see the musician collapse, blood pouring from an arrow straight through his neck.