Zephyrial -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (2/1/2015 0:31:10)
|
For a while, the battle proceeded as planned. Despite his misgivings about his treatment of the Thanisgard commander, the worthy fellow seemed to have submitted to his authority, for the cavalry and archers dutifully arranged themselves as he had demanded. With admirable discipline, the remainder of the Alliance troops did the same, and soon the army was arranged in a tight, ordered formation with plenty of room to maneuvre. The mages, arranged in three ordered rows and shadowed by the remaining Sentinels, stood behind the hundred-strong unit of archers that had formed from all the disparate battalions of the Alliance. A heavy block of infantry flanked them on either side, with the least-defended sheltering at the back, and at the rear of the army, the Thanisgard and Gilrade cavalry stood in readiness, itching to chase down their opponents. Above their heads, the shield thrummed with a reassuring timbre, promising protection to all. With a satisfied air, Sayden quietly sat back and observed the approach of the Alliance army. The sky went black. With unbelievable speed, the block of archers loosed a stupendous volley towards the Allied lines, then another, then another. Readily supplied by the heaped carts which trailed the formation, the exotically-garbed archers conjured up a swarm of nightmarish locusts from the sky, a sight which would drive any ordinary army to terror and ruin. Domrius no doubt valued these troops greatly for their skill, and no doubt considered them an insurmountable foe. However, he had not reckoned with the ingenuity of the Oramus Collective. The air became filled with a deafening thrum as the storm of projectiles neared the shield... then gave way to a cacophony of cracks and creaks as the arrows collided en masse with the great barrier, and were immediately arrested. As quickly as they arrived, they were destroyed, and not a single Alliance soldier was felled. The mages of the First and Second Divisions grimaced as they weathered the assault, but they stood strong and were not overwhelmed. Smugly, Sayden watched as the commanders of his archers, sensing that the time had come to respond, gave the call to loose. The arrows passed effortlessly through the barrier, pouring scorn on those of the enemy. Their barrage was not a third as impressive as that of the Alquen archers... but almost each and every arrow found a mark. Ten men fell, then twenty, then a hundred... but to Sayden's dismay, their formations remained as firm as ever. As quickly as they were diminished, their ranks were filled from the rear, and the Alquen troops maintained discipline that had to be seen to be believed. Impressive... the Lion's horde is truly impressive. But why are they not retreating, or advancing? Surely they must realise that they cannot hold this pos- A sudden nausea claimed him, bending him over, sputtering. Panicked, he looked out across the battlefield... The palanquin, with its ominous aura, had been uncovered. No doubt its covering must have been prodigiously enchanted to repress the energies within, for the moment it was pulled back, the disruptive aura that emanated from the cart began to grow and grow, like a tornado emerging from calm skies, sending a wave of evil power through the valley. With gasps of shock and agony, the first and second divisions lost control of the barrier, which faded away into nothing. The barrage of arrows ceased to be stopped, only slowed... and then, rained down on all parts of the Alliance formation with terrifying effect. Sayden had been saved by his own weakness, for the shock of the event had caused his hovering disk to rapidly descend, depositing him before his Sentinels, who quickly shielded him. The Alliance's only defense had been destroyed. Despite his disturbed state, Sayden was nevertheless conscious enough to realise that inaction would mean ruin. Scrambling to his feet, he barked along the mental link, struggling to be heard against the disruptive effect of the artifact. All... divisions... We are- are undone! Put all... you have into... -ning... maintaining... the shield... Fight, for as long as you can! He succeeded in calling across that great divide. Heeding his words, the mages collectively braced their backs and poured every ounce of energy into maintaining the shield, causing it temporarily to flare up to full strength. But the strain this effort caused was plain to see - sweat dripped from every brow, eyes watered with agony and exhaustion, and knees threatened to buckle at any moment. They were brave and determined, but Sayden knew that even all together, they would be unable to maintain the shield for more than a few minutes longer. The relentless barrage of arrows beat a hellish rhythm as they bounced off it, calling to mind the sound of rain on roof - though with none of the soothing qualities of the same. Something would have to be done. The defensive strategy was no longer viable, and so it stood that the only available course was to adopt that once proposed by Gilrade back in the commanders' tent: all-out attack. Once again, Sayden cursed the Varan for their absence. Provincial as they were, the northern warriors' fighting prowess would have been of great use in this situation... nevertheless, the course was set. Disregarding the proximity of the Alquen forces, Sayden once again summoned up his magially-enhanced voice, piercing through the clatter of split arrows. The concept of the signal was abandoned: only clear instructions could transmit his intentions. "All units! The barrier will not hold! Infantry! Cavalry! Move to your positions. And when the barrier falls... Charge! Target the artifact!" Jaw set, he prayed for a miracle. The arrival of the Varan. The success of the stealth mission in creating a distraction. The Alliance was at the point of no return.
|
|
|
|