<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">Soluunar</span></span><br/><br/>"Rune's balls," Haman muttered from somewhere close by, "have they emptied out the Ravine?"<br/><br/>Barth shook his head as he hoisted himself up onto his ashen stallion- as much as he preferred being on foot, he knew the horse would make it easier to organize the defense.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Doubtful. I see no Chieftains,"</span>he responded, careful to keep his voice low in case others were listening. The last thing he wanted to do was crush the little hope they had left, but the reality was far more grim than what many of them believed it to be. And that was saying a great deal.<br/><br/>Haman nodded, keeping his expression stoic, but his one remaining eye displayed the truth of how he felt- the big man was concerned, and rightfully so. With as many Tutar as they were seeing, it was nigh unbelievable to think that there were still many more where they had come from. All told, it was a force that was more than capable of exterminating mankind. Unless Barth had anything to say about it.<br/><br/>He urged the horse forward and left, towards the ranks of archers positioned in a long rectangle off to the side, on a raised stretch of land near the tree-line. They were firing sparingly for fear of hitting their own, but they needed to assert themselves more lest the front line infantry be overrun.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"FOCUS YOUR FIRE ON THOSE COMING BEHIND," </span>he barked at them, making more than a couple of them jump,<span style="color: #FFFF00"> "LEAVE THE FOREFRONT TO THE SWORDS!" </span><br/><br/>The arrows immediately began flying higher and in greater abundance as they arched over the front lines, finding targets amongst the Tutari warriors that continued to stream forward behind those already engaging the allied soldiers.<br/><br/>With a satisfied nod he turned the stallion and moved back down the line, finding Lord Knight Resuran on a white horse near the front of the assembled cavalry.<span style="color: #FFFF00"> "Jahal, I need your eye on the lines. If they get pushed back too far, the reserve infantry will need to support a tactical retreat so the pits can thin their numbers."</span><br/><br/>"Yes, My Prince," the man replied, making Barth blink with surprise upon being addressed in such a fashion by a Lebi. Although the man still hadn't done anything about his mustache, Barth greatly valued the support he got from Knights like him and Shalerin. "Their advance is slowing, though."<br/><br/>Barth frowned and turned to regard the forefront, realizing that the man was right. And although the arrows raining down on the horde from above were helping to slow the tide, something else was responsible. The Tutar were pulling back, their heads swiveling around as if distracted from their purpose; behind those at the front, currently entangled in combat with the Lebis and Lindenians, the others were swarming back the way they had come.<br/><br/>A word was being repeated over and over, in guttural speech distorted by fanged maws, coming from every direction as the allies drove the Tutar at the point of attack back as if emboldened by new strength. Cheers reached Barth's ears from their own, celebratory shouting mingled with fierce war cries as the tide of the battle seemed to turn in their favor, but he ignored it all as he stared over the battle lines.<br/><br/>Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.<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><br/><span style="font-size: 112%; line-height: 116%;"><br/>The ground beneath the combatants, already constantly vibrating from the sheer amount of armored bodies moving around on it, began trembling in earnest. A series of deep, erratic tremors, seemingly coming from somewhere far beneath Soluunar's surface, erupted in an unsteady rhythm that grew more pronounced in its strength with each passing moment. <br/><br/>The tide of Tutar continued its chaotic, unpredictable flow, moving back from the point of engagement and away from the battlegrounds as if repelled by invisible forces. Many of them pushed up against the forest line even though there was too little room between the trees to allow for passage given their large frames. They moved with a frenzied speed that suggested they were afraid of something, and they all began swiveling their horned heads to face the same direction. The men and women of mankind's last alliance followed suit, staring over the few Tutar still fighting to stare at what was approaching in the distance. <br/><br/>A heavy scraping sound, growing louder by the second, permeated the atmosphere as a series of gigantic shapes slowly came into view, moving with slow, lumbering steps as the horde of Tutar in front of them fought and shoved each other in their haste to clear a path. The clinking of chains could also be heard from where the Prince-Commander sat atop his horse, as the scraping continued to increase in volume until a man standing upon the field of battle would have said it was all he could hear. <br/><br/>As the hulking things drew closer, beneath the scarlet light of the setting sun, they became discernible and a number of soldiers dropped their weapons out of shock and fear. Seasoned soldiers, men and women who'd faced countless dangers, had stared death in the face time and time again, fell numbly to their knees at what they saw before them. To them, to all of them, these creatures had existed only in the nightmares of children. <br/><br/>Although the monstrosities were hunched over, they still stood at roughly twice the height of a Tutari warrior. Their legs were the size of tree trunks and their naked girth was enormous, covered by hairless grey skin that looked harder than iron. Their faces were vaguely apelike, but with scales around the eyes which were jarringly reptilian compared to the rest of them. Their arms were massive, thick and strong, and shackled to each wrist, at the end of a series of impossibly thick chain links, was a boulder being dragged along behind them. </span><br/><br/>_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_<br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">Soluunar</span></span><br/><br/>Suddenly the word being repeated endlessly from the battlefield became clear. There were less than twenty but more than ten of the newcomers, when just one would have been more than enough to make him question their odds of victory. Even one would have been enough to strike fear into all of their hearts, just one would have filled them all with doubt as to whether or not they would live to see the light of a new day.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00"><span style="font-style: italic">Drorghans. Gods save us.</span></span><br/><br/>Barth watched as the monsters began their charge, the boulders chained to their wrists sending Tutar flying in every direction, tossed into the sky like they were rag dolls. The arm flails of the giants yielded cataclysmic results, but for the time being it was solely the other side suffering the consequences. A cluster of nearly ten Tutar soared through the air and crashed into the last of the covered pits, directly in front of where Barth sat on his mount. They went right through the covering, making a large hole in the planks on top; based on the screams that were immediately followed by complete silence, he presumed they all met their end on the spikes waiting beneath the surface.<br/><br/>As difficult as it was to focus on anything other than the horror-inspiring charge of the Drorghans and the sight of Tutari warriors raining down from the sky, Barth had eyes only for the infantry out front. The only hope they had was to thin the ranks of the giants before engaging them. With some luck, the pits would help. If not, faced with a force of so many, all at once- they might as well slay themselves right where they stood.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"FALL BACK! FALL BACK RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"</span>he screamed desperately, praying they could hear him over the sounds of thundering footsteps and of stone striking steel and flesh as the Drorghans slowly drew closer. Haman echoed the command, even as a chorus of frenzied neighs came from behind them.<br/><br/>Barth turned to see several riders get thrown from their mounts as the horses shrieked, fighting to get away from the approaching monstrosities. The putrid scent of old decay was reaching them now, and it became abundantly clear that while Tutar made horses nervous, Drorghans filled them with unbridled terror.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Resuran!"</span>Barth called, as the man fighting to maintain control of his steed half-turned to regard him.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Move the cavalry back, lest we have broken necks to contend with as well!" </span><br/><br/>The Lord Knight nodded and immediately began shouting orders to those behind him; the animals were ridden back towards the camp, many of them needing to be calmed first or led by hand as their frenzied nickering continued. Barth felt his own stallion trembling under him and promptly began whispering calming words into its ear as he turned to the bowmen once again.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Spread out! Front and center! We'll need every arrow to count!" </span><br/><br/>They stared at him with wide eyes, as the front lines began moving back towards their position. With only a few exceptions, every face looked pale and frightened; several archers had dropped their bows and some even seemed ready to turn and flee. He saw their eyes darting back towards the camp and he knew they wondered how quickly they could run, if they could abandon everything right there and then. The scraping sounds continued to lurch closer, interrupted only by the occasional roar and corresponding thudding noises as chained boulders were swung indiscriminately. Behind the shapes of the approaching Drorghans, which had now reached the first of the corpse-filled trenches, an ocean of black steel and gleaming tusks waited, somehow looking just as big as it had before.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"THERE IS NO ROOM FOR FEAR, BROTHERS AND SISTERS! NOT NOW, NOT EVER AGAIN! WE FIGHT NOW FOR EVERYTHING WE KNOW AND FOR EVERYTHING THAT SHALL BE!" <br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Rune, God of the sky, who was there at the beginning. You observed creation itself- do you wish to watch our end as well? My people need me, they need their Prince, but I cannot hide my fear from you. I am afraid.</span><br/><br/>"FORGET YOUR BANNERS AND FORGET YOUR KINGDOMS! YOU FIGHT FOR NO TITLES, NOW. NO RECOGNITION, NO LORDS, NO OWNERSHIP OF LAND. NONE OF THAT SHIT MATTERS ANYMORE! NOW YOU FIGHT FOR THE PERSON STANDING BESIDE YOU! YOU FIGHT FOR THE CHILDREN THAT WILL ONE DAY WALK UPON THIS LAND IN PEACE, REMEMBERING THE DEEDS OF THEIR ANCESTORS! WE SHALL ALL BE REMEMBERED FOR WHAT WE DO HERE, RIGHT NOW! WE SHALL BE REMEMBERED FOREVER!"<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Rune, Naiya, Lydia, Valiya, whatever Gods, whatever names, you watch this and you do nothing. We cannot win this battle. Mankind shall be wiped from the face of Soluunar. There will be no one left to remember us.</span><br/><br/>"I HAVE FACED THESE MONSTERS BEFORE! THEY ARE DRORGHANS, AND WE SHALL END THEM, JUST AS WE WILL END THE REST OF THIS HORDE! WE WILL BREAK THEM!" <br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I have never faced anything like this. We are all going to die.</span><br/></span><br/>Weapons were retrieved from the ground and the eyes stopped looking back towards the camp, but he could still see hesitation on their faces. Soldiers from the forefront were starting to stream back, and they too looked like they harbored doubts.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"WHAT DO WE FEAR?" </span><br/><br/>They didn't answer him. He kicked the horse into motion, moving it back along the trench line before wheeling it back around, his eyes fixed on them all, glaring fiercely.<span style="color: #FFFF00"> "WE FEAR NOTHING! I WILL ASK AGAIN,"</span>he uttered as he drew close once more.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"WHAT DO WE FEAR?" </span><br/><br/>"Nothing," came a few voices, sounding weak and timid as the giants shuffled closer.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"I SAID, WHAT DO WE FEAR, DAMNIT?"</span><br/><br/>"Nothing!"<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"WE ARE THE LAST DEFENDERS OF MANKIND, AND WE SHALL SEND THESE FOUL CREATURES BACK TO THE ABYSS! WHAT DO WE FEAR, I SAID?!"<br/></span><br/>"NOTHING!"<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"WHAT?!"</span><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"NOTHING!" </span><br/><br/>A roar rose up as the archers fanned out, covering the retreat of their comrades as they began aiming at the approaching Drorghans, still afraid, but visibly willing to stand their ground. And that's all he could ever ask of them.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Don't fire yet,"</span>he told them as the shapes lumbered closer.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Aim for the eyes when they're in range."</span>The pits, Gods willing, would help to slow them down and possibly thin their numbers, but the bowmen were where he placed the majority of his hopes. He prayed they would be enough. He glimpsed Verana making her way back and nodded at her- she would help to keep the archers focused on the task at hand.<br/><br/>He moved the horse back down the line, away from the bowmen and back towards where he could get a better view of the Tutar arrayed behind the oncoming giants. If they attempted to slip in behind the giants they could drive a wedge into the defense, which would pose a whole new prob-<br/><br/>A Drorghan roared, a deafening sound filled with malice and hatred, and Barth's horse reared up violently enough to unseat him. He flew from the saddle, hitting the ground hard as his mount took off, galloping wildly back in the direction of the large camp. Before the Prince could do much more than swear bitterly under his breath, three large shapes erupted from the hole that had been made in the planks covering the pit in front of him. Barth fought to stand up quickly, all while the memory of the cluster of Tutar that had been flung into the trench returned to him. All of them hadn't died after all.<br/><br/>With Tutar, three against one was impossible.<br/><br/>He drew the longsword from over his shoulder just as they reached him; with a savage cry he decapitated the first, just in time to feel a clawed hand come crashing down on the hilt of his weapon, knocking it from his grip. An arrow came whizzing past his head, embedding itself in the shoulder of the Tutar on his left but doing little to slow it down as it lunged for him with its wickedly bladed scimitar.<br/><br/>With Tutar, two against one was incredibly difficult, even for the most skilled of soldiers.<br/><br/>He dodged the blade thrust with an effort; it grazed his chest plate, and would have probably sliced his arm clean off had he not raised a gauntlet so as to jam a metal-garbed finger into one of the attacking Tutar's many eyes. With his other hand he drew his machete and slashed at both of them, attempting to create some distance, but the edge of the bright steel blade caught between two spikes protruding from a segment of crude armor and the weapon was wrenched from his grip. He dodged a scimitar slash from the one that had lost an eye, watching as the other drew its own blade, but not before tossing his shortsword aside contemptuously. The nearby archers couldn't take another shot for fear of hitting him, and he had no more weapons at his disposal.<br/><br/>With Tutar, two against one, unarmed, was impossible.<br/><br/>He dodged a thrust from his right and a slash from his left, ending up on one knee as he ducked under the latter; catching sight of an incoming downward slice from the right, he rolled back as the blade slapped heavily against the ground where he'd been kneeling a moment before. With a roar, he sprang up and onto the back of the Tutar before it could regain its balance after the missed strike. He reached around its head and seized the first thing his hand could grasp on its face; his hand closed around something, and with a grunt of effort he tore it right out of the creature's mouth. He caught a momentary glimpse of the bloody tusk from over the Tutar's shoulder before reversing it in his grip and driving it into its neck once, twice and then a third time before the warrior finally collapsed onto the ground under him.<br/><br/>He had only enough time to push himself up off of its back before the final combatant, blood still leaking from a ruined eye, delivered a heavy kick to his chest that sent him sprawling backward. The wind was knocked out of him as he hit the ground for the second time in the last minute, but he still had the presence of mind to reach out with both hands in time to stop the jagged blade from impaling his throat. The Tutar, its fangs bared ferociously, began putting its weight down onto the crude hilt of the weapon, leering down at him as drool and blood dripped down onto the face of the Prince-Commander. Barth's arms trembled as the razor sharp tip moved closer to his neck.<br/><br/>Idly, he heard rapid footsteps approaching, along with a strange choking sound, but all he could see was the face of death above him as the blade drew within an inch of his throat.