Have I told you guys that I LUV battle sequences but my characters often just talk all the time? Yeah, my characters are punks like that.
Tokaresh'Ket Excerpt: First real battle.
“What does it feel like?” Tokaresh asked. “I see nothing in the trees.”
“They have to be there. That's where I feel them. Savala-rheva taught me how to do this till I could pick out a halfling in a sea of people.” Richette huffed. “This doesn't make sense.”
The first scream rang out before either of them saw it.
“Makes sense now.” Tokaresh growled dangerously.
Below them several metal maws burst from the rings into the basin that was Thromnblad and out of those maws poured orcs and goblins en masse with a few riding beasts that hadn't been seen for several Drugen generations, Wyvern.
“What the hell?!” Richette cried, it took all her self control to remember not to slam her fist down on something. “What the bleeding rings of hell?!”
“With Wyvern here we'll have to separate. Where should I drop you?” Tokaresh asked quickly.
Richette scanned the ant hill effect below them for a moment. “On that guy, the one with the long purple plume in his helm.”
Richette felt the click more than heard is as she disengaged from the clips on the saddle. With a kind of grace and oneness that could only come from connected souls the golden dragon tucked his wings and rolled through the air sending the slight woman up and over his spiraling form. Richette fell like a stone her hands and arms spread wide palms out and fingers up. Air tore at her clothes, her eyes, her hair, and stole the breath straight out of her lungs. Slowly Richette brought her gloved hands down parallel with the quickly rising ground. Closing her gold brown eyes she sunk her arms and legs deep into the flow beyond in the space between. The Winding Works slowed her fall enough, just enough. Her eyes snapped open as she righted herself and braced. With a mighty crash and the crunch of breaking bone and compacting metal the Woman in fur lined, gold plated, armor crashed onto the orc like a comet. Displaced air rippled like an aftershock and blood sprayed in an impressive arc. There was a silent moment where all within sight of the oozing mas of meat and bone that lay in an amorphous bloody pile paused in sheer confusion.
A figure stood out of the gore with a wicked grin. With deliberate speed the woman unhooked the winged helm from her side and pulled it snug over her head. “Oi.” She called drawing a wickedly curved khopesh and fingering the hilt of another, smaller, curved blade at her hip. “You're trespassing.” She said with a growl.
There was an angry roar directed at her by the large, muscular, orc soldiers. They're smooshed snouts and protruding tusks that rose from their over large lower jaws retracted into vicious snarls. The goblins, rounder and softer with large Faern-like ears, shied away in contrast. Richette roared impressively in return.
There was a surge among the green and muck colored warriors. They're hide armor looked stitched together haphazardly from the skins of too many different creatures in a kind of 'one size fits all' pattern. Some of the more hulking brutes burst the seams as they raised their nasty looking clubs to strike. The smaller, though still twice the musculature of any human man, orcs seemed impeded by the stiff hides that practically swam on their bodies.
Richette closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The first one to the top of the steaming, still warm, corpse hill was overlarge and smelled of rotten milk and smoke. Richette pulled the smaller curved blade from her hip and brought its full weight against the mighty side swipe she ducked beneath. The perfectly forged kukri sliced through the sinew between sturdy orc bone like a hot knife through butter. In one fluid movement she Khopesh stabbed into the firm flesh beneath her slick leather boots and took hold of the disembodied arm so that her right hand could continue the momentum the orc behemoth had started. The heavy spiked club swung through the air with all the grace of a falling tree. The first two skulls barely slowed it down the third orc tried to move out of the way and toppled over the comrades behind him causing a domino effect that was surprisingly fatal as improperly carried weapons skewered several of those that had lost their footing. A few even fell on their own weapons. The Club found its resting place in the side of another of the larger creatures. Spikes slid between the lacing on the side of his armor. With a red cough and a final flailing growl the monster went down in a fury of movement that knocked several of his fellows back.
Retrieving her sword Richette grimaced. Her surprise had cut a deep gash, but not deep enough for her to hold out on her own. Judging by what she had seen in the air and what she felt in the Works they were going to need a little luck and a lot of help from the Maker, otherwise they were screwed.
Something bounced off her breastplate and into the orc on her left. An arrow fletched with crow feathers pointed at her from the eye in the orc's deep set socket.
Richette sucked in a steadying breath. If the archers were on a higher road then she was dead, it was only a matter of time. With a grunt she lowered her center of gravity and bull rushed straight ahead before any more of the slime colored brutes could swarm up the sides of the rapidly cooling Wyvern corpse.
She lost her sword in the tumble but managed to keep hold of her kukri. Bodies flailed, those that were upright tripped and stampeded over their comrades in a mad dash to get to the rider before she could get the advantage again. Gold brown eyes looked around as she tumbled down the side of the Wyvern in a snowball made of screaming and flailing bodies. Time slowed the way it always does when one is seconds away from agony. Richette was able to stare into the gaping maw of the steel snake that had chewed through the earth into the inverted walls of Thromnblad. To her horror it was a never ending stream of steel and gnashing teeth. These weren't average Marauders, but they were too disorganized for an army of any sort. What was going on?
Time returned to normal and Richette tumbled around and bounced off the firm musculature of the warriors she had knocked over. Several weapons were already bearing down on her prone form regardless of those around her. For a moment Richette felt disconnected from her body. She watched as her hand reached for the broken Magery stuffed into her belt and aim straight ahead at the soldier vomiting maw of the snake. Her index finger brought down the lever Richette had yet to figure out as her other hand reached out, dipped into the Winding Works, and grabbed hold. The gears moved, there was a spark, a flash of light, and a roaring explosion that knocked Richette backwards so forcefully she felt more of the dead Wyvern's bones break along with a couple of her own when she was slammed against it.
There was a terrible moment of silence. Slowly the sound of moaning and shrieking. Richette tried to blink the darkness from her eyes. Everything was bleary, as if she'd just woken up to stare straight into the sun. “Tokaresh!” She cried out fearing that any moment could turn her into a striking rendition of a pin cushion.
A blob of gold filled her vision for a second before she was swept up into the sky surrounded by careful talons. “What did you do?!” Tokaresh's voice echoed through her head.
“I used the Magery Savala-rehva gave me.” Richette gasped as her body struggled to replace the breath forcefully expelled from it. “Maker's hammer! I used that broken Magery!”
“Well, it worked.” Tokaresh said carefully. “It seems Ge'linn and the others are harrying the retreat.
“Retreat? But the battle just begun.” Richette said warily her vision was returning slowly but it was still swimming.
“Avoee... You destroyed two of their metal monsters and left a mark that I'm sure may be impossible to erase.” Tokaresh said hesitantly.
Richette felt a wave of fear leaden her limbs and burn her chest like an ice brand. “I killed a lot of Drugen didn't I?”
There was a moment of silence. “We shall see.”
Tokaresh landed on his hind legs and carefully set his Anaweem on her feet. She swayed slightly before regaining her footing and walking forward. She turned away from the homes they shared and looked out over Thromnblad. The gold dragon hadn't exaggerated. There was a huge chunk tore into the eastern side of the basin of a town. The perfect aerial target would now forever be lopsided.
A black gaze and a brown gold stare locked onto the unassuming bit of wood and metal the woman's hand still clutched. Who had made something like this and what could they possibly have needed it for?Neither dragon nor rider said anything as they waited for their comrades.