<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">Soluunar</span></span><br/><br/>One second Barth had been preparing to die right there, laying in the mud, with saliva and blood dripping onto his face from a fanged hellhole of a mouth, the next, he was being saved by someone he couldn't see.<br/><br/>There was a roar of pain and outrage, and the scimitar moved away from his neck so swiftly that he would have lost two sets of fingers to it if he hadn't let go in time.<br/><br/>He collected himself and sat up, expecting to see Ausan tussling with the beast; the woman had a sixth sense for when he was in trouble, and it was entirely plausible that she'd have hurdled half a battlefield to get to him in his time of need. He was surprised, then, to see a lanky woman with a familiar face hanging onto the Tutar for dear life, her fingers embedded into its eyes as it swung frantically over its shoulder at her with the same weapon that had nearly parted Barth's head from the rest of him.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00"><span style="font-style: italic">That… that's the pitchfork girl!</span></span><br/><br/>Before he could do much more than register his astonishment at the fact that he'd been saved by the same girl Verana had been putting so much of her time into preparing (evidently the Maiden was an effective teacher), the Tutar landed a hit on her with the blade.<br/><br/>Fearing the worst, he sprung up from the ground and began the process of finding his weapon, in time to catch movement at the periphery of his vision. He caught the hilt of his longsword deftly, instinctively, as he locked eyes for a brief instant with Ausan who was moving to flank the demon that had nearly taken his life.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“See what happens when you leave my side?”</span><br/><br/>He smiled, knowing she'd have killed him if he'd died (it would have seemed impossible, but not when it came to the Shield Maiden), as he drove his blade into the Tutar's neck in a single fluid motion, bringing it down. He withdrew the bloody steel and met the gaze of the woman who had saved him. He feared she had lost one of her eyes, though she seemed to be handling her injury rather well for one that was so unseasoned. It would hit her harder in a moment, though- the bigger injuries were always like that.<br/><br/>'Sen', the Maidens had told him she was called. He owed her his life, and he wouldn't forget it. Ausan wouldn't either, as was made clear when she referred to the woman as a Sister. He grunted with approval as Verana's protégé began backpedaling, apparently searching the ground for a new weapon.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">What now?</span>" Ausan asked him, and Barth stared out over the battlefield to see the Droghans continuing to draw closer to their position even as the tide of Tutar behind them began advancing slowly and carefully behind the living battering rams they were using to clear their path for them. They still gave the Drorghans a very wide berth, which was no surprise given how many Tutar had already been sent flying through the air by the boulder wielding beasts.<br/><br/>Before he could answer her, Barth watched in disbelief as a lone Knight attempted to engage a Drorghan singlehanded. Did his speech, intended to embolden the soldiers and keep them from fleeing to the camp, cause this soul to rush out there?<br/><br/>He was either the bravest individual he had ever seen, or the stupidest- it was then that Barth recalled seeing the man riding out on his horse earlier, mistakenly believing the cavalry to have been called in. He'd been the only rider, and he'd quickly lost the horse to the Tutar, but it said a great deal for his fortitude that he survived as long as he did.<br/><br/>But fighting a Drorghan head-on?<br/><br/>Just as he was convinced of the man's idiocy, he watched as the Knight turned and attempted to flee (a demonstration of good sense, that), before being stuck by a Drorghan's claw and sent flying right into a trench.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Well, he's definitely dead,"</span>the Prince said quietly with a sorrowful shake of his head before realizing he still hadn't given Ausan a response.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"We keep on,"</span>he finally replied as he watched the now horseless cavalry unit rushing towards them from the direction of the camp, led by Resuran with Borim Garth somewhere behind, hanging back with some of his personal guard. The Drorghans made horses an impossibility, but they still needed every ounce of manpower they had.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"We stand our ground,"</span>he said, hoping his voice only sounded hopeless to his own ears. They were at the end now, it was all over and he knew it. The Gods were not coming.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"That's all we can do, Ben. We stand our ground." </span><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: black;background:black;"/></div><br/><br/><span style="color: #804040">Terror and fear wafted through forests like a thick musk that set the animals on edge. Prey and predator alike gathered around the Elder God in fear of the demons that had invaded their woods. </span>“This has gone on for long enough,”<span style="color: #804040">he said aloud to no one in particular, though the wolves seemed to shy away from him now as if they could sense the rage that boiled just beneath the surface. </span><br/><br/>“Protect them and watch the lines,”<span style="color: #804040">he instructed one of the Alphas. </span>“Do not engage because you are not strong enough to do so on your own, but do not let the other animals come to harm. We have to protect the balance. We must preserve the hunt or all is lost. Understand?”<span style="color: #804040">The grey wolf gave a yip and turned to the rest of his pack and soon groups of wolves shoot off to do as commanded.  This done, Weylyn took up his spear, slammed the butt of it down three times and felt himself leave the mortal realm to journey to the home of the Gods.</span><br/><br/>_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_<br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">-ENVIRONMENTAL POST-</span></span></div><span style="font-size: 112%; line-height: 116%;"><br/><br/>In the area lying between the army and their camp, a group of soldiers stopped in their tracks, shielding their eyes from a blinding flash of light that appeared in front of them without warning. Once it passed, they blinked dumbly, staring in disbelief at a group of people standing before them who hadn't been there a moment before. <br/><br/>These were no ordinary people. <br/><br/>The Mortals stared, stunned, as a bearded man in a riotously colored robe raised a staff into the air, the entirety of his body beginning to glow with a dull blue light that surrounded him as well as the 4 intimidating soldiers standing around him. <br/><br/>A second later the silvery soldiers in the winged helms were brandishing their immense halberds, soaring through the air, straight towards one of the closest of the Drorghans. <br/><br/>"For the Gods they call," shouted one of the Skyknights, as he slashed a blade across the face of the beast, causing a spray of dark blood to cover the dull silver of his vambrace even as a gust of wind rushed forth from his weapon, giving the creature momentary pause. On the other side of the Drorghan, one of his fellows drove a halberd point into the neck, raising his voice in song to match the pitch of his comrade. <br/><br/>"Aye, and mountains fall!"<br/><br/>"And the demons perish no matter how tall!" yelled the third of their number, one of the two that lacked the long dark hair spilling out from behind the helmets of the other two. He recited his line before quickly dodging a boulder strike delivered by a flailing, chained arm as the Drorghan screeched out in agony and rage. Before he could counter with an attack of his own, the final Demigod reached the others and thrusted his halberd into the monster's open maw, the blade stopping shy of bursting out of its the back of its head by the thick flesh that protected it. <br/><br/>"This thing needs more iron in its diet!" he called joyfully as he withdrew the weapon, looking like he was going to drive it into the mouth once again, but instead pulling away just in time to avoid being slammed to the ground by the other boulder. <br/><br/>"Roth, your weapon is steel," called the first Demigod, as he landed on the ground in front of the Drorghan, his flight at an end for the time being. "And you ruined the song." <br/><br/>The monster was grievously injured, but still it remained on its feet as the others alighted around it in a semicircle. "There are plenty more of these things," the accused man replied as he readied his weapon. "Lots of chances to sing. My jokes, on the other hand, are priceless."<br/><br/><br/>"Your boys have a lot of fun, don't they?"<br/><br/>Gaius Stormbreath glanced at Lydia, locking his eyes onto the light brown ones he could see beneath her hood. "Too much. The outlook is already bleak, even without their nonsense." <br/><br/>The Elder Goddess of Luck smiled softly at him and threw her dice, even as he swept his staff out in front of them, sending a sheet of powerful wind surging over the heads of the Mortal soldiers and into the Drorghans. It served to slow them down a great deal, even stopping a few of them, just as the 6 hooded, slender individuals that had been standing around the Goddess moved forward, their quick feet picking easy paths through those assembled ahead of them. They, like their mistress, were outlined in a blue glow that began fading slowly from the moment it appeared. <br/><br/>The dice skimmed over the ground and returned to Lydia's gloved palm, where they glowed with a bright golden light for several seconds. Just as it happened, the injured Drorghan lost its footing and fell back, urged backward by the wind gust, and a massive flailing arm sent a boulder smashing directly into the skull of one of its fellows, killing it instantly. <br/><br/>As the injured Drorghan began fighting to regain its footing, the hooded individuals reached it and immediately sent a flurry of knives flying into the face of the beast, with several embedding themselves into its eyes. Finally, it dropped to the ground with a massive thud, and was still. <br/><br/>"That was ours," one of the Skyknights called after them as the newcomers moved forward, their thrown knives already back in their grip. "Sorry, didn't know you'd taken a liking to him!" yelled back one of the hooded females, her crimson hair just barely peeking out from under the fabric covering her head. "Next time give em a kiss so we can tell!" <br/><br/><br/>Standing just behind the other 2 Gods, Yorinth calmly surveyed the field before him. His dark eyes narrowed on the approaching Drorghans, before turning to regard the Mortal troops assembled against them. <br/><br/>It was clear that while the last alliance of men still stood firm, their morale was at a very low point. He could see slumped shoulders, injuries, and people on the brink of fleeing for their lives. "Not a moment too soon," he muttered as he raised both hands and sent out a wave of rejuvenating energy to everyone arrayed in front of them. Spines straightened, eyes brightened, and soldiers who looked like they were ready to give in suddenly stopped what they were doing and looked around, surprised to find themselves feeling new resolve. <br/><br/>The Demigod at Yorinth's side was the only one of his kind that hadn't rushed forward; Lagaan, resembling a tightly wound spring, stared around the vicinity as if expecting an attack from every direction. It was only when the Elder God of Enduring moved forward, his eyes fixed on some injured individuals nearby that would need closer attention, that Lagaan did the same. <br/><br/>Another movement of Gaius' staff, another roll of Lydia's dice. <br/><br/>As if connected to the tip of the twirling cane by an invisible string, the sky above roiled and spiraled, and with alarming speed a funnel cloud touched down right at the center of the Drorghan formation, pulling several monsters into it and spitting them forcefully back out, causing their immense forms to collide and disrupting their charge. They scrabbled at one another, momentarily forgetting who the enemy was in their affront and confusion as their powerful, hateful roars shook the air itself. <br/><br/>The dice returned to Lydia's hand once again, glowing gold as before, and a spear that had been picked up by the tornado came hurtling out of the spiraling column of wind, impaling a Drorghan through its head through nothing but sheer luck. <br/><br/>Gaius, Lydia and all their Demigods glowed blue once more, and once more the Skyknights, took to the air, seeking their next target, even as knives from the hooded immortals continued to rain ceaselessly on the large targets that continued to present themselves. The tornado dissipated, but the Elder God of Wind was far from done. <br/><br/>Cheers rose up from the Mortal forces, though many could only look on in awe at the display before them. Most were simply standing there, watching with gaping mouths as the Demigods continued to wreak havoc and the Drorghans fought to recover from the sudden cyclone. <br/><br/>"Your prayers were heard," Yorinth said loudly as he moved towards the Prince of Linden, making sure his voice could be made out over the commotion. Lagaan dogged his steps, glaring at anyone within arm's reach, but he was silent as always when they reached Barth Krinwulf. <br/><br/>"They were heard," he repeated. "And now we fight." </span><br/><br/>_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_<br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">Upper Regions</span></span><br/><br/>Rolyn stood alone in the quiet garden, staring into the fountain's waters, gazing down at his own reflection. He had never aged, never lived a mortal life like the others, and yet to him it seemed that the face staring up at him was much older than it had been in the past. As if the light brown skin was beginning to show signs of wear after all the millennia that passed since he came into existence. As if the silver hair was losing its shimmering qualities, becoming dull and deadened as if to suggest that the years were finally taking their toll.<br/><br/>It wasn't just because of the recent struggles with the Circle, either- no, this was something he'd taken note of before, even before the Tutar emerged from the Ravine to launch their war on all of mankind. This was something he noticed long before any of that occurred.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF"><span style="font-style: italic">It's not just my appearance, though,</span> </span>he thought as he clenched and unclenched his fists as if to test the strength of his fingers. No, it wasn't only the reflection peering back at him that made him think it.<br/><br/>It was the way he moved, the way he seemed to be getting slower, mentally as much as physically. He couldn't help but think back and remember a time when he wouldn't have struggled quite so hard to get through to the Circle, a time when he was capable of coming up with solutions as opposed to walking around in the same loop over and over again until finally electing to turn renegade and skirt the very laws he implemented in the first place.<br/><br/>There was the matter of power as well; long ago he had been stronger than anyone else by a mile, head and shoulders above every other denizen of the Upper Regions. Then Malinar surpassed him, as others grew as well; Galaia was close when she died, and Lorkhan had grown strong enough to be the third most powerful of all of them.<br/><br/>Rolyn, though, he never grew stronger, and the gap between him and the others kept lessening in size as the centuries went by. The eternally present Rolyn Skyhand did not gain in power, and if anything he believed he was changing for the worse, growing weaker, fading away.<br/><br/>It made sense- he was supposed to be Creation's guardian, and it was clear he was no longer suitable for the job he had been given. He had no purpose, no reason to exist, if he couldn't perform the task with which he'd been entrusted.<br/><br/>He sighed, but then his forlorn thoughts were interrupted by something new.<br/><br/>Something… furious.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: black;background:black;"/></div><br/><br/>“WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!”<span style="color: #804040">Weylyn practically snarled as he strode up to his friend, mentor and patron God who stood by the fountain. Clad now for war he was beyond waiting for them to do what must be done and was prepared to do what he knew was right where the others would not.</span>“You of all people!”<span style="color: #804040">he snapped as he rounded on the other God.</span>“People are dying! The lands are dying! And you stand here looking into a fountain like there is nothing wrong in the world? Are we Gods? Or are we cowards that sit up here and wait for the Monsters to go away?!”<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: black;background:black;"/></div><br/><br/>Rolyn sensed the approach of the Elder God before the enraged voice even had a chance to erupt from behind him; he didn't turn away from the water as the tirade swept over him, listening without a visible reaction. Once the man had finally paused, probably only to take a breath before beginning another enraged onslaught, Rolyn turned to face him with a small smile.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"Weylyn, it is good to see you after such a long time,"</span>he replied calmly, his pale, serene eyes locking onto the other individual's furious ones.<span style="color: #00BFFF">"I would ask what brings you up from Soluunar, when you are so seldom seen away from your pack, but I believe you've already made that quite clear." </span><br/><br/>He scanned their surroundings, finding them to be in relative privacy for which he was grateful. Being overheard was not an option.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"I am aware of those who are dying, and I know very well what the Tutar are doing to Soluunar. To your home. I have long been embroiled in talks with the Circle- you know this. You know that others oppose intervening, but that I would not willingly stand idly by and allow all of Creation to fall into shadow."<br/></span><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: black;background:black;"/></div><br/><br/><span style="color: #804040">The calm that met his rage only seemed to frustrate him further because it just was not the reaction he wanted. It was not the reaction he thought that everyone should have and experience. Instead, he just stood there a moment as his chest heaved with each deep breath that did nothing to help him with his rage. <br/></span><br/>“Talking? What is there to talk about?!”<span style="color: #804040">he growled and paced away and in a sudden rush of energy he threw the spear and watched it land with a satisfactory thud within a tree trunk. </span>“The Circle be damned!”<span style="color: #804040">he spat out, his fingers snapped and his spear returned to his hand once more. </span>“If none of you will do what must be done then I will do it all on my own!”<span style="color: #804040">he paced back to the other God, his friend and the closest thing to a Father he had known save for the Alpha that raised him.</span>“Will you rat on me for this? Tell me I should not?”<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: black;background:black;"/></div><br/><br/>Rolyn's smile widened; the sight of the man's passion, as always, was a refreshing change of pace. If not bound by the Sacred Oath, he would have visited the Elder God on Soluunar if only to remember what it was like to see such unbridled intensity. The man cared, he cared a great deal, and he never held back, never concerned himself with such trivialities as<span style="font-style: italic">protocol</span>, never bothered to observe appearances.<br/><br/>Some would have expected the oldest, and one of the most highly respected Gods in existence to demand some form of reverence from those in his company, but the reality was that Rolyn would never have asked Weylyn to change, even if it earned him shocked glances from others in the Upper Regions. The man was who he was, and the God of Time loved him for it.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"The time for talking, for waiting, is over, my friend. It has been some time since the Star Wolves visited me with tidings from their master- when next they came, I planned to tell them of what I have done. I have gone around the Circle, Weylyn, and perhaps some will be angry with me, perhaps I shall draw the ire of my peers, but I find that I no longer care."<br/></span><br/>He paused for a moment, considering what the man had last told him.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"I will not try to forbid you from taking action, but I will say that you need not do it alone. There is work to be done, and you can help me do it."<br/></span><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: black;background:black;"/></div><br/><br/><span style="color: #804040">This news did cool his temper and cause him to relax, to some degree as he came closer and for the first time probably ever, spoke softly. <br/></span><br/>“Not alone? We were planning a hunt?”<span style="color: #804040">There was a hushed excitement in his words that carried over to his eyes, which made them shine from within the shadow of the helm he wore.</span>“Tell me what we are to do and it shall be done!”<br/><br/><span style="color: #804040">Already he could feel the familiar itch that he got before it was time to hunt. That anticipation that made him feel so alive, mortal and thrilled to have been born. A hunt, an adventure anything where there would be a chance to test his skills and his metal against a worthy prey, it made the world worth living.<br/></span><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: black;background:black;"/></div><br/><br/>The silver haired God could see the light in Weylyn's eyes, could see the mounting excitement as he spoke of a hunt- if the man craved a challenge, he would not be disappointed. But Rolyn also knew that no matter how dark things turned, no matter how bleak the road ahead, the man would never turn aside. He was true of heart, a valuable ally and a deadly enemy- those who compared him to a wild animal never did so when he was within earshot.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"This shall be a hunt, but it will be unlike anything you have ever faced. There will be other Gods at your side, those who also wish to aid the mortals and in doing so save Soluunar, but it will still be both difficult and dangerous. The Tutar are relentless, tremendously powerful, and their horde is seemingly without end. They have grown much stronger in recent years, though the cause is unknown to me. There are other monsters within their ranks as well, beasts that shake the very foundations of the ground beneath them with every step they take." <br/></span><br/>He twitched his head, shifting a lock of hair from in front of his eye as he continued to regard the man.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"The Mortals you will fight alongside are the last chance humanity has- there are many among them who are brave and strong, and who will not falter, but they face destruction if we do not help them." <br/></span><br/>He moved closer and placed a hand on Weylyn's shoulder.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"I told you, long ago, about the Law of Protection. Akryanus cannot go to the mortal realm, for if the Star God is involved things will quickly go amiss with the Circle. With you, the number of immortals in the fight shall allow me to invoke the law. You are the missing piece, Weylyn, and the stakes have never been higher. You hunt now for the fate of mankind itself, and for the fate of the world you love so much. The world we both want nothing more than to protect."<br/></span><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: black;background:black;"/></div><br/><br/><span style="color: #804040">There was nothing else that he needed to hear, nothing else that they needed to discuss. This was what he wanted; it felt like what he had been waiting to do his whole life. Almost like this was his whole purpose for being. Full respect was returned to the God of Time and in a rush of sudden emotion he embraced the Circle God in a mighty bear hug. <br/></span><br/>“Point me and I shall be your arrow!”<br/><br/>_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_<br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">Soluunar</span></span><br/><br/>It was like something out of a dream. Flying men in silver armor with giant halberds, hooded figures throwing knives and retrieving them with superhuman speed and precision, jovial songs and hearty jokes being shouted as a bearded man wielding a staff created a tornado right there on the battlefield- it made Barth question whether or not he was awake any longer.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00"><span style="font-style: italic">Perhaps that Tutar really </span>did<span style="font-style: italic"> take my head off</span>,</span>he thought numbly as he reflected on the series of lucky turns that occurred even as a sudden feeling of wellbeing assailed him, his weariness fading along with the innumerable aches and pains that had been plaguing him for about as long as he could remember.<br/><br/>Barth could only stare blankly at the man, at<span style="font-style: italic">the God</span>who stood before him. It was surreal.<br/><br/>"Is something the matter, Prince Barth?"<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"..."</span><br/><br/>"Ah. Well, the Gods have come. And we are here to-"<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Well it's about damn time," </span>Barth interrupted, though his lips still curved up slightly at the edges as he looked over the God's shoulder to the other two as they continued to help turn the tide of the battle.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Any later and you'd have been fighting over our corpses." </span><br/><br/>"My Prince!"<br/><br/>Barth turned, just as the God he'd been speaking to seemed to have had his attention caught by something else, and saw Haman approaching him with a stocky man he did not know. He was wearing Lebi armor, though it was as dirty and dinged up as anything he'd seen on the people from his homeland.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Haman?"</span><br/><br/>"The Tutar, sir," the stranger said before the giant, eyepatch wearing man could speak. As the words spilled from his mouth, Barth could see that his eyes were wide with urgency. "They have begun chopping down the eastward trees. Trying to cut a way through the forest."<br/><br/>Barth looked from the two of them, to the area beyond where the Drorghans were charging. He could see activity near the tree-line down at the southward border of the woods. It made sense; if they could cut through, they could flank the defenders, and what better time to try for it than when the Mortals were busy fighting off the giant boulder-swinging demons?<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"We'll need to stop them. We cannot fight them on two fronts. We'll need-"<br/></span><br/>"I can take a regiment of archers."<br/><br/>Barth glanced past Haman's enormous frame to see Verana watching him closely.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Very well. But you'll need support." <br/></span><br/>She opened her mouth, the argument already visible on her lips, but Barth raised a hand to cut her off.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"No arguments."</span>Her pale face beneath the vivid red hair twitched with annoyance, but she knew further discussion would get her nowhere. They'd been together long enough for her to know that for a certainty.<br/><br/>The Prince turned and caught sight of a familiar, if unfriendly face.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Lord Garth,"</span>he said as he gestured the man over.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Verana will be leading a battalion of archers in fighting off the Tutar at the tree-line. You will lead her escort. You have good soldiers in your company, I want them there to help cover her in case a retreat becomes necessary."</span><br/><br/>Borim's beard bristled indignantly. "I'm a Lord Knight. I am no bodyguard, and the men of my retinue are there for<span style="font-style: italic">my</span>protection. Look elsewhere for your<span style="font-style: italic">escort</span>," he finished haughtily. Barth glanced around, but as Resuran was nowhere to be seen, the bald Knight would have to do. Verana could handle herself; the additional protection was just a formality, and as such he couldn't spare any of his own men for the job. Garth's blade had yet to be drawn, and the Prince decided that he may as well let the man and his people be of<span style="font-style: italic">some</span>use.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"That was not a request. It was a command, which will be obeyed without further commentary." <br/></span><br/>He turned dismissively, before the man could attempt another counter. Verana was already gathering whichever bowmen could be spared, and he knew that the Knight wouldn't try to argue anymore with Ausan so close by.<br/><br/>His mind already back on the field, Barth quickly reached a group of infantrymen mingled with horseless cavalry and Knights. He would be sending them back out there, but not before providing some instruction based on what he'd seen of their new enemies.<br/><br/>The Drorghan's thick hides wouldn't be penetrated by the stakes waiting in the trenches, but their weight meant falling all the way to the bottom and crushing whatever was already in there. Which, combined with the help they were receiving from the Gods, revealed itself to Barth as a tactical advantage.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Wait for them to fall into the trenches,"</span>he told them, even as one Drorghan tripped over one of the pits, sprawling out in front of it but the drop entirely. He hoped it wouldn't become a regular occurrence, though their apparent stupidity made such a thing seem rather unlikely.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Once they're in them, they can't attack while they climb out. They'll leave their heads unprotected! Work together and remember, even if you blind them they're still dangerous." <br/></span><br/>Haman boomed out the same orders to another group of foot soldiers, just as a third rectangle of swords and shields moved forward to swell the assembled ranks, Lord Resuran among them. There was a grim look in his eye and his sword was drawn; when Haman echoed the Prince's words, he nodded curtly before looking back to the forefront with no change in expression.<br/><br/>The Tutar were still moving in behind the Drorghans, but as they were doing so very slowly and reluctantly it seemed that they wouldn't charge until they were out of the larger creatures' range. Either that, or they were waiting for a path through the trees to be cleared. It seemed to Barth that he could hear the sound of axes chopping at wood in the distance, far away as the Tutari lumberjacks were. His mind touched once again on Verana, and he turned to see she was already gone, along with Borim and the others.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Do not over-pursue! The Tutar behind might flank you. Handle the Drorghans, and keep your heads on straight,"</span>he barked at the backs of the advancing soldiers.<br/><br/>As they moved forward, he watched yet another tornado touch the ground, picking up dust and bloodied dirt, turning dark as it towered over the foes it seized. The flying Knights, the Gods, took back to the air, landing on the Drorghan that had tripped even as the new cyclone began tossing Tutari warriors around like rag dolls. Many of them got right back up, but some didn't and others seemed to be losing their weapons judging by the fights that were breaking out as some tugged spears from the clawed hands of others.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"The Gods would not be here if they did not believe we can win. Fight now, knowing that our victory is at hand!" <br/></span><br/>As he shouted the words, it occurred to him that this time he actually believed them.<br/><br/>It was a most welcome change.