Interdiction Phlox Diffusa: The Harbinger's mysterious quest

[Harbylove]

Hey all, just looking for some feedback. I have been playing for a couple years and finally think I have a storyline for my army (it took a LONG time, which usually does not happen!) Let me kno what you think.

Part 1

The Harbinger entered the halls of Hierarch Severius in Leryn, still deeply troubled by the absence of the creator’s voice the past week. She entered the throne room, where the Hierarch was positioned atop a beautifully ornate throne of gold, two large menofixes on either side upon which he rested his hands. His golden mask sent a glare of sunlight through the doorway, as the sun set behind the mountains to the west. As she entered, the congregation of vice scurators, heirophants, visigoths, and lesser clergy members dropped silent and the hierarch raised his head to greet the young vessel of Menoth’s will. They had heard of the urgent meeting the Harbinger had arranged with the heirarch, and when that happened any of the Protectorate were sure to feel a sense of foreboding.

“I am pleased to see you, Child of the Creator, but were it not for the brooding in my heart I would think you bring good news” he stated calmly, not hinting to his anxieties over that which he did not know.

“Hierarch, there is a deep unrest in my soul. The creator has not allowed me to commune with him for some time. The last message I received from the creator was simply a will to head west towards Ord. There was no meaning or reason behind it, much unlike the one a few months ago. No purpose was rendered, no hint at the dangers or necessity of the action. Just His will to go forth. I have meditated to get a deeper understanding of the nature of my vision and none have risen. As deeply troubling as this situation is, I must take my leave from the crusade for a time. There is persistence in my soul to follow Menoth’s guiding will regardless of circumstances. I believe the only way to commune with the Creator again is to reach Ord, at which point I no doubt will see the need for such a venture. Menoth would not lightly command this of me, as His wisdom goes beyond that which us mortals can scarcely fathom.”

The words spoken by the Harbinger hung like a cloud of darkness over those gathered in the hall. Not a one of the assembled uttered a sound; all eyes were on the Hierarch. He bowed his head again briefly, raising his chin once again he stated with the same calm and authority “Low be it for me to refuse the will of the creator. I had asked you to allow me to march at your side once before. In this you refused my services with good reason, and I get the sense that once again this will be the case. Did the Creator mention how much would be required for this mysterious campaign? Does he command the crusade shift course?”

Now, there was murmuring in the crowd. To shift the crusade to a new objective, whether Menoth’s will or not, would required an enormous requisition of time, effort, money, and man power to complete. It would also require the territories won in the North be abandoned, and without purpose the morale of the nation would be dealt a severe blow by such a maneuver.

Luckily the Harbinger could sense the tension rise, so she spoke quickly “No, Hierarch, the crusade has not received anything but Menoth’s support. And mine. The force I request would be little larger than an interdiction. I require only the Testament and the High Allegiant, Amon ad Raza. I have already summoned the High Allegiant, and he should arrive shortly. I have with me a list of those the creator has willed, units and names of individuals that must prepare at once for a holy interdiction. It is extensive, including menites of the old faith and of the new. It even mentions High Paladin Dartan VIlmon, who I had received word completed his vigils and is returning to the crusade. I will name this interdiction Phlox Diffusa, after the native flowers that grow in Ord. In this it serves two symbols, a uniting of the established old faith intertwining with the new as well as a mission of mercy, as I am sure that reinforcements will be found along the way in the form of Menites of the Old Faith. I will be the tree around which they gather and prosper to further Menoth’s work in this area of the world.”

There was a long silence, and the Harbinger studied Severius’s soul. It was torn, on one hand she could sense the disdain felt in his heart that once again the Creator had not willed him on another sacred mission. On the other was his inviolable resolve to follow the will of his god. Finally, he spoke.

“Child of the Creator, these men will be made available to you. It is not my place to deny the Creator’s will. See to it the force is outfitted to your liking. You may obviously have your pick of anything the army has to offer. God’s speed, voice of the one true god, and may your quest’s objectives be revealed and accomplished. I feel in my soul a dire possibility you may not return to us, but I firmly believe in the Creator to do what is best for his followers on Caen. “

With that, the Harbinger turned. She was surprised at the ability of the Hierarch to blindly follow what is wished by the Creator. As the crowd of clergy split to allow her leave, she noticed there were some weeping, and that great unrest had taken up the souls of those who had heard of her proclamation. She stopped at the door, almost weeping herself and said “Followers of Menoth, do not weep for me or for the future of our nation. Menoth’s will has always and will continue to guide the great work there is still left us, as followers of the True Faith. I have kept a secret from all, not asked to spread a proclamation received from the Creator until the time was right. I feel that time has come. I said not to weep for me, for when I fulfill my purpose on Caen and ascend to the Creator’s side in the afterlife…another, different prophet will emerge.”

With this, she turned and let tears stream from under her blindfold as she entered the darkness of night, ensuring not a soul saw her sorrow.

[Harbylove]

Part 2

The Harbinger wiped away her tears as she neared the campground, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had been holding onto that prophecy for far too long and its revelation seemed timely, bringing a calm serenity to her mind as she floated along. She could still feel the absence of the creator, which troubled her deeply but had become a situation which she was coming more to terms with each passing day.

The Harbinger’s command tent was on the outskirts of the Northern Crusade’s camp in Leryn. Bustling with activity, any who happened out that way knew something of major importance was about to occur. Messengers were coming and going, some bearing bundles of purple clothes which were being separated and had been designed by the Harbinger herself. The others who were not transporting bundles were leaving the camp with orders to unit officers to make haste to the place with all possible speed. Supply wagons were congregating in the southern corner by which acolytes and priests were making sure the contents matched their manifests. A tussle broke out as the Harbinger entered the large torch lit meeting ground near one such wagon.

“Filthy dog, stealing sanctioned goods from our divine interdiction? Do you know who these provisions belong to?! To the wrack with this heathen!” barked one wizened old priest. The Harbinger floated closer and could see a starved young child, who was being shackled by some of the choir members of her interdiction. He had a wild look in his eyes, and fear seeped from his personage. It was almost palpable, and it pained the Harbinger to experience. “Stop, this child’s soul is pure. It is out of necessity he takes these provisions, not malice. Let him go,” ordered the Harbinger. The choir members exchanged curious glances, but did as ordered and shoved the young man into the sand at the Harbinger’s floating feet. The child looked up at her with awe in his eyes and a new sense of fear in his soul more akin to dread. He shivered, the night was cold indeed and his garments were little more than rotten scraps of cloth.

“Your name, child of the creator?” the Habinger asked coolly. The child bowed his head in reverence and shakingly answered “Polintrik Golsphan.” The Harbinger floated closer “Do you take these goods to feed your family, young one?” the Harbinger inquired, already knowing the answer but testing the poor child. “No, your holiness, I am an orphan. The manna was for myself,” the child was starting to sob a little. “Acolyte,” the Harbinger gestured to one of the choir who had shackled the boy, “Bring the manna to me.” The clergy member stooped down and lifted the bread from the ground, wiping the sand from its crest as he hoisted the loaf to his master averting his eyes. “Take this, Acolyte Golsphan, if you would do me but one favor and join me in this interdiction as my aide-de-camp.” The child’s eyes widened with joy as he looked into the Harbinger’s veil and stuttered “O-o-of course, Harbinger! It would be an honor!”

“Can you do something for me now child? I am in need of sacred ointment from the temple.” She reached into a pouch at her waist and pulled out a voucher upon which was stamped her personal seal, extending her hand out to the child.

“At once!” Golsphan stammered his tears turning to those of pride.

“Excellent, and you need clothes fitting an aide of mine, see Iago before you go,” she pointed towards the large tent at the northern section of the camp. The child scampered off and the Harbinger turned to follow.

As she floated into the command tent Iago, her personal Heirophant, greeted the Harbinger with a deep bow “Your holiness, child of the creator, I am glad you are back. The preparations have been made, the armour and clothes are all here and the warjacks have been repainted under my guidance and consecrated for their holy purpose with scripture and scared oils. I am not sure where you have placed garments to fit the child, however,” with a finger pointing to Golsphan. The Harbinger nodded in approval and took appraisal of the madness around her. Serfs, clergy, and other faithful were akin to bees around their hive, sorting the uniforms and arranging the sacred armour that would protect the faithful soldiers she had ordered on the interdiction. She drifted towards a wonderfully ornate white marble table upon which her marching orders stood, the Testament was sitting in his chair pouring over maps and gave a brief nod and began to stand as she approached. The Harbinger beckoned him for an object as she neared, always more comfortable in his presence.

Another soul that knew what it was to talk to the Creator always gave her respite and helped her in the struggle she endured coming to terms with being a conduit of a God. Many would be unnerved by his silence, and fearful. She had personally seen him reclaim innocent faithful with no warning whatsoever. She knew he served Menoth’s will, so she never questioned his actions as anything but righteous. The Testament bent down and opened a small gold chest from which he lifted a small purple robe and pure white undergarments, which he handed to the child who now followed the Harbinger. Golsphan’s hands trembled with fear as he reached out for the clothes, stopping just short of the Testament’s hands. “Do not fret child, please accept this gift and make haste,” this command prompted the child to snatch the bundle and scamper into the corner to prepare for his sacred task. She glanced at the hourglass setting on the map table, the last remnants running out and she waved a hand to let the Testament know to follow her outside.

Iago drew back the flap of the tent and once again the Harbinger entered the darkness of night, a welcome breath of fresh air filling her lungs. She had almost not realized the heaviness of the air within her tent with all the activity and bodies moving about making the final preparations. “Right on time” she stated with a smile as three imposing figures entered the southern end of the meeting area which sprawled out from before her tent. She immediately recognized Dartan who was walking just in front of two other Paladins. The clergy near the wagons, as well as the serfs setting up the final torches all stopped and stared as the trio confidently crossed the congregation ground. They wore shining armour of silver and gold and long flowing purple capes with hints of the purest white glinted as they strode up to the Harbinger, stopping to kneel before her.

“Dartan, it is great to see you now arrive on the eve of this urgent mission. I knew you would come. I am pleased your vigils have allowed you to forgive yourself your perceived dishonor. Sir Cadwgan, Sir Delwyn,” she addressed the other two paladins, who were shocked to hear their names never having been in the presence of the Harbinger; “I have heard much of your valor and am glad to see you have the fortitude and strength to have made the journey as well.” “It is our greatest honor to serve the will of the Child of the Creator” said the paladins in unison. “Rise now, I would ask this honor of you three; to be my personal bodyguard in the upcoming campaign. Would you accept such a duty?” The Harbinger could sense the pride swell within Cadwgan’s and Delwynn’s chest, “By the will of Menoth, we will give our lives in your service Harbinger.”

“Very well, please help yourself to water and some food for your journey has been long, our preparations have not been in vain and my attention must now be given to our new arrivals.” She pointed beyond the paladins, who all turned and withdrew to her side, bowing as they parted to let the new arrival pass.

[Harbylove]

Part three

High Allegiant Amon Ad Raza entered the campground from the same point the paladins had come from just moments before. He was accompanied by his battlegroup and a large retinue of holy zealots, choir members, and some Idrian scouts. He turned to his warband and bade them all rest and walked over to where the Harbinger hovered letting out a small sigh. He kneeled in the same sand the paladins had just vacated.

“Rise, High Allegiant. I am grateful you chose to accompany us,” the Harbinger said calmly, gesturing to the Testament who nodded towards the High Allegiant. Amon returned the Testament’s nod and replied.

“It is my honor, Anointed One. You may have given me a choice, but the choice was made for me by He who created us all.”

The Harbinger felt the tension in the High Allegiant’s voice, for he had seen her sword strike down his master Voyle before the gates of Caspia. He had mediated long on the events, and for a time could not understand how the Harbinger could have granted her sacred sword to the Cygnarian caster scum, Stryker. The event had shaken the very pillars of his faith and yet strangely enough strengthened his resolve to follow Menoth’s will. It eventually came to pass, in Amon’s mind, that Voyle had shamed the Order of the Fist by acting so irrationally. Monks were taught not to use their strength in anger, but to meld mind, body, and spirit into a calm and collected weapon to unleash upon any foe who would threaten the stability of the Protectorate. Amon’s mind came roaring to the present and noticed the Harbinger studying him silently, graciously allowing him to explain himself.

“Harbinger, I must confess I am still deeply troubled by my master Voyle’s actions at the gates of Caspia. As a front-line leader within the Order of the Fist, I feel it falls on my brow to return our fellowship to a place of honor within the Protectorate empire. Treacherous though it was for Voyle to commit such an atrocious act upon innocent faithful, and to defy your divine counsel, the fact he died by your sword brings his memory screaming painfully to the fore of my brain. To be in your presence is unsettling, but on my honor I will avenge my mentor, and the first step to redemption is to prove myself on this holy Interdiction.”

There was a gasp from the acolytes in the yard upon hearing this.

“I appreciate your concern for your order’s standing, but I assure you that no dishonor has befallen the Fist’s sterling reputation for adhering to tradition and protecting the faith. You are a man of your word, and it truly comforts me to know you will be by my side on this mysterious quest. Together, I hope, we can salvage this perceived loss of honor and return with glory to the Northern Crusade and further Menoth’s work here on Caen,” the Harbinger proclaimed this speaking loudly enough that the activity had even ceased in her command tent. The flaps opened, and quizzical clergy members came forth into the night sky to see what the matter was. The Harbinger sensed this and extended her arm to Amon, who grasped hers by the wrist.

“Your men, and your machines of war, might do well with some tending to. Please, allow my entourage to look after them and take some rest. The ceremony will begin shortly, and I would be greatly honored if you would join me on the platform to initiate the Interdiction within the hour.” Amon looked up and replied “It would be a pleasure, Voice of the Creator.”

With that, Amon turned and sent his aide to relay these orders. The Harbinger smiled approvingly and beckoned Amon and the Testament to follow her into her tent then addressed the paladins beside her.

“Please take your leave, my honorable warriors, and prepare yourselves as well. Rations will be made available.” With that, the paladins bowed in unison and approached the ration carts to requisition some much needed sustenance.

Once inside the tent, the Harbinger drifted behind the map table and turned to face her captains.

“Our march column will travel in three parts. High Allegiant, I would request your speed and stealth in leading us along the path from Leryn, here,” as she pointed to the map and began tracing the route to Ord, “to this place here. I will be behind you, but constant contact must be maintained. I would only entrust such a mission to your Allegiants, Amon, since no other man or woman in this army has the ability to sink into the shadows with quite their efficiency. Testament, my companion, your task will be to guard the rear of the march column. For this important task, I have issued to your command a contingent of the Exemplar Order. Their hardiness in combat you well know, and these soldiers’ steadfastness and dedication on the battlefield is beholden to none even amongst the other exemplar. They are none other than the knights who have fought in the streets of Sul during the eradication of Cygnar’s marauding horde. Now, I am sure that her presence has gone largely unnoticed, but contact between the two of us will be contracted to a certain patron of Ios.”

The Harbinger lifted her hand with finger outstretched into the shadows behind the two warcasters, who turned to face this unexpected visitor as Eryiss entered into the candle light. She quickly bowed her head to each mage-warrior and began to speak. The Harbinger interjected “Eryiss, you are free to meet with the commanders of the units who will be accompanying our cause. They are beginning to arrive now, and I am sure will treat you with the hospitality all Menite’s show.” With that, Eryiss gave a quick bow and took her leave, seeming almost to vanish underneath the moonlit sky.

“Mercenaries, Harbinger? How can we trust that kind of filth with such an important task?” Amon inquired angrily.

“I can sense your disturbance over this, High Allegiant, but rest assured other mercenaries of notable fame have also had their serviced requested. Anastasia Di Bray and Carvolo, the Piper or Ord, have been summoned as well. We need these people’s knowledge of the local geography heading into Ord’s borders, for I know that I, at least, do not know the lay of the land we may be called to fight upon. Gorman Di Wulfe will also join us, having been caught stealing unrefined Menoth’s Fury from one of our pumping stations recently. He has chosen to give his services to aid our cause in lieu of more extreme punishment. There will also be another…,” at this point the Harbinger started to trail off, a scowl enveloping her face.

At that moment, Golsphan barged into the tent and approached the Harbinger, kneeling at her side and hoisting a rather ornate vial filled with a strangely translucent liquid. “Thank you, child. I release you until the morrow. Go and take your rest,” she ordered. The Testament watched the young child scamper off and turned back to the Harbinger, a glint of rage barely noticeable in the corner of his eye.

“Testament, I beg you to trust my judgment. The mercenaries will all show their purpose in time. It is Menoth’s will, is it not? They serve the creator even now, unknowingly, and it must remain as such. For if they knew of their divine purpose, it may anger their souls and treachery would befall our cause.”

Amon interrupted, agitation apparent on his face “What souls? The others maybe, but I do not trust that Iosan. Soulless heathen...”

“High Allegiant, it is faith you must have now,” the Harbinger explained coolly, “her services may surprise you.” The Harbinger was herself uneasy about entrusting those with only a love for themselves and for coin with such vital tasks. She fell silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts and praising Menoth’s name, before turning her attention back to the warcasters assembled before her.

“It is almost time, please gentlemen take leave. I must pray before the ceremony. Meet me on the platform in a half hours time. Acolytes, distribute the gear to all arrivals and let them know to make preparations. I bid you all farewell for the moment.” As the Harbinger watched the last of the acolytes slip out of the tent, she turned to her makeshift shrine and began purification rituals.

[An00bisRa]

Good story man!

[Harbylove]

Thanks dude! I am going to introduce one more key personality in the fourth part to really spice things up.

[Commander Vimes]

nice story! One or two things:

- the Piper's name is Carvolo, not Corbulo
- I'm not sure about two things concerning Amon: first, are you sure Warcasters display their faces without masks at any time, even in presence of the Harby? I am not, and would rather choose to stay in tune there Second, in my personal opinion I find the last comment from Amon ("Soulless bitc...") rather strange. That is a very modern expression at the least. Furthermore, Amon should have enough self-restraint and experience to not say something like this in front of the Testament and the Harbinger, his "colleagues". Maybe something like "Soulless heathen" does the same thing? But overall, I would doupt Amon has such animosities towards mercenaries, since he is an Idrian himself. He should know that ALL people can be converted :-)

And one more question, out of interest: why does the Harby care for the child in your story? This is no critic, but I know how much her actions in the coverstory of FoW:Menoth has agitated the Harby-fanatics and would be interested to know if this story serves as your answer to that.

See You,
CM

[Harbylove]

As for the child, the reason the Harbinger has taken to him must remain a mystery but all will be shown in time (: I was actually one of the few Harby nuts who actually appreciated seeing her torn between her humanity and her Creator's divine edicts. Perhaps this child's soul, having been saved, will help her reclaim that part of her humanity she lost in that instant. I tried to portray the Harbinger in this piece of fiction as more human, hence the weeping in the first part.

I also have a cool idea which a friend gave me for the fourth part concerning her power on Caen which hopefully will prove interesting. There is something that has been ominously missing from the story, or more specfically people. The reason for this will drop in the 4th part!

I have corrected the story to be more accurate and fixed some grammatical errors, take a look and let me know what you think!

[Commander Vimes]

Thanks for the banana :-)

Looks solid now, very nice! I'm not regularly in this board but would like to read on...if you have the time, pm me so I know a new part is online!

[Harbylove]

Part 4

Lights dazzled, a burst of bright white faded into a clear picture of a woodland scene. Weeping abounded through a group of Morrowan refugees as some mumbled through their sobbing to curses of the Harbinger. The light was fading, and a priest straddled a large, moss covered rock as he cleaned relics denoting his faith. As the darkness crept in on the beleaguered group one of their number let out a shriek. She pointed into a group of bushes were two malicious, green glowing eyes peered out. The eyes did not move, instead suddenly another set and then more appeared from all directions. The air had an aura of dread, and the stench of death began to pervade the area in a thick musk. The Morrowan priest rose, his heart heavy with fear. He approached the southern end of the clearing with a quaking heart pounding in his chest.

“Show yourselves, foul filth, we do not fear you!” His voice did not betray his own anxiety. Suddenly a ripper burst forth and took out the priest’s legs. He was thrown to the ground bleeding from stumps where his legs had been mere moments before. His cries swelled into a cacophony as the rest of the entourage were torn limb from limb. The look on the priest’s face suddenly became oddly serene, and his features twisted into that of a child. It was Golsphan, and he raised his head and cried out for Menoth’s forgiveness as a slayer bounded down with violent intent. The Harbinger’s mind screamed back into reality and jolted her into the present.

She rose up, still only floating a few feet above the ground. Was Menoth trying to tell her something? She felt a slight surge of power as if the Creator’s presence was with her. This same power had dwindled in the weeks passed with no communion with the Creator, but oddly it was almost a blessing. She could guide herself through the air now, no longer needing her trusted acolytes to drag her to and fro. She shook the frightful scene from her memory and turned to exit her command tent.

Outside the meeting ground looked much different than before. In a matter of but an hour it had filled with soldiers destined to accompany the Harbinger on her quest. As the tent flap swung back, a tuft of dust drifting off the end of the fabric as it hit the outside of the tent and spiraled off on a gust, a large cheer arose from the amassed interdiction. She could sense no fear in those assembled, and joined the Testament, Amon, Dartan, Iago, and the Covenant on the platform.

“Soldiers of the Creator, willing faithful handpicked by our God, hear me now” the Harbinger proclaimed, arms raised up in a motion to silence the assembled. “We embark on a great journey, to Ord we will travel. I require nothing short of your faith and willingness to lay down your life to accomplish Menoth’s will. You have been chosen because of your faith and pure spirits. I promise you, they will be tested” the Harbinger paused.

“Do not fret, friends, for as long as you do your duty you will have solidified yourselves a place of honor in the halls of the City of Man. If any of you harbors fear in your soul, let it be known your cowardice and leave this place at once!” Not a soul so much as took a breath.

“Very well, your orders are set, your hearts are strong! Let us fulfill our destiny! Unit commanders, I urge you to meet with the head of your columns respectively. We move out at first light.” A cheer erupted from the Menites, the Temple Flame Guard waved their spears in the air, spurts of fire erupting from the tips. The Harbinger turned to face Amon and the Testament. They nodded their approval and exited down the ramp to gather their forces to finalize the marching orders. The Harbinger floated down the ramp as well, quickly joined by Iago as the Covenant read rousing scriptures over the hustle and bustle of soldiers forming up for the march ahead.

“My lady, the mercenaries are assembled in the courtyard just beyond your tent there,” he waved in the direction of the meeting place, “I will ensure your orders for the march are understood. Dartan, Cadwgan, and Delwynn are waiting for you at the mercenaries sides.” The Harbinger clasped a hand on Iago’s shoulder and nodded as she took her leave to join the assembly which now required her attention.

As the Harbinger neared the courtyard, she heard laughter as a male voice told drifted along in the night air. She came around an ornate marble pillar with ivy dripping from the top but not quite gracing the ground, and could see that even Dartan was smiling as the Piper wove his tale. She took great pleasure in seeing his happiness, but the smile which graced his lips quickly faded as he noticed the Harbinger enter into his sight.

“Harbinger, we are honored by your presence.” The Harbinger nodded to Rhupert, who still clung to his bag pipes. There was an aura of sadness around Rhupert, one that sapped the very air of happiness. She was taken back by the intensity of this emptiness, but was glad that his skills could also be put to use to raise moral and not just languish in torment of the soul. Anastasia, Eryiss, and the other Paladins stood nearby.

“Gorman, I trust you have not befallen any unpleasentries following your transgressions against the Protectorate.”

“No, Harbinger, I have not. I was thankful that my plea bargain met with…kind ears. My services are at your disposal,” Gorman’s voice, though seemingly confident, could not hide his suspicions of the floating girl which appeared before him. The Harbinger chose to ignore this and instead turned to the last person yet to be acknowledged.

“Madelyn Corbeau,” the Harbinger struggled to keep disdain out of her voice as she addressed a woman of whose morals were fairly loose, “I do hope our envoy had no problems finding the place. I am grateful to you and your king, Baird, for allowing us safe passage into the lands of Ord. Beyond this small allowance, I am further grateful he has lent us your services as a personal liaison,” the Harbinger had to check herself as she spoke, knowing that liaison also most likely meant keeping tabs on the Menites. She had accepted Madelyn’s requested presence graciously only with great trouble. It seemed almost a punitive measure by Baird for coming into his lands.

“It is my honor to accompany this fine army on its venture, and do not hesitate any inquiry of my knowledge of Ord. My services are at your disposal” Madelyn said with a sly smile, knowing full well her presence caused the Harbinger consternation. She spoke truthfully, and knew her enjoyment of the Harbinger’s discomfort was not going unnoticed. Tales of the Harbinger’s powers were well known all over the Iron Kingdoms. She smiled at the Harbinger sheepishly and gave a curtsey, which the Harbinger felt obligated to respond to.

“Honored souls, I take counsel with you now to ensure your loyalty. I will hear any grievance you have regarding assisting our actions.” The Harbinger could sense no qualm from any of the Mercenaries, no hint of fear or questioning graced their lips.

“I am truly glad to have you working with us now, Rhupert, Madelyn, Anasatsia, and Gorman. You three will accompany me. Eryiss, you have your orders. I trust they will be seen through with the efficiency which has been told me on all accounts. If, at any time, you have a moral qualm please do not hesitate to speak with me.”

With that, the mercenaries all left, the Harbinger biding each farewell for the now in turn as they passed out of the courtyard to situate themselves in the columns assembling. Dartan and his fellow paladins approached the Harbinger after they all left.

“I really cannot stress how grateful I am for your dedication to my safety” she said.

“Harbinger, it truly is our honor. You will never need to thank us for looking out for your wellbeing” Cadwgan asserted, bowing.

The Harbinger returned the bow; the interdiction was finally under way. The unknown quest gnawed at the edge of the Harbinger’s mind as she floated out of the camp ground, bidding the Testament farewell and wishing him safe passage. She was surprised to find Gravus with the Exemplar contigent, but could not deny his presence for she knew that Kreoss would take it as a personal insult to turn his services away. It was all in Menoth’s hands now, or at least the Harbinger wished so, for the unknown was not something she was accustomed to dealing with.

[Commander Vimes]

Nice read, again!

Only thing is, it doesn't happen very much, so I want more :-) I often find that the characters are the most interesting parts in fluff stories. Hence, I like the story about Madelyn Corbeau, the piper and Vilmon. However, I hope next time to hear more from Amon and the Testament (maybe fight scenes...? Want bananas...).

Concerning the Piper: I read his fluff only once, but think I remember that he is a very tragic character (grief, sorrow etc.). While i really like the part about him making Vilmon smile (after all he IS kind of a barde), I think it might be worth mentioning it. For example, he could lighten the spirits of other people with stories because he thinks one suffering person (himself) is clearly enough. Or he could still have that melancholy look in his eyes, even telling funny stories...bittersweet, that's the word I would associate with this instance.

next time, pm again if it pleases you.

[Harbylove]

Part 5

Amon awoke to a dreadful sight. The field was littered with the bodies of dead winterguard, some so thoroughly crushed that their uniforms were all that marked the puddles of goo as Khadorian soldiers. Mixed among the bodies of dead Khadorians were the choir acolytes that had accompanied his foray party. Amon’s mind soon keened in on a host of newly arrived choir members were tending to the warjacks who had partaken in the conflict prior; upon their chassis were the obvious signs of damage attained during battle. His hierophant was standing next to him, uttering soft prayers which trailed off and his eyes grew wide with amazement as the seemingly deceased warcaster arose from the ground. Amon stood up to his full height and stretched, feeling his muscles aching with every movement and a thundering headache made its presence known. He stumbled to a rock; although the movement was fluid to all others’ eyes he did not feel it as such. He sat upon the stone as his hierophant kneeled down in the grass beside him.

“Any news?” Amon inquired, his head still swimming in a pool of confused thoughts. His heirophant held out a shaking hand within which was clasped a note hastily scrawled on a piece of parchment.

“We found this placed in your hand, High Allegiant.” Amon nodded and unfurled the letter and as he read the words therein the hazy memory of the battle which had taken place was brought to the fore of his mind.

“High Allegiant-
I hope this note finds you…well off. Let this be a warning to you and yours that Llael is not safely in Protectorate hands. Your nation’s intrusion here was a ripple which will surely not spread far. This letter will surely be brought to the hands of your Heirarch, so this will be known that we Khadorians are a proud people, as you well know, and we do not take lightly to the sacking of our lands through treachery from within. I promise you we are well aware of Ashlynn’s dealings, and she will be dealt with in time. For now, my empress is willing to let no more blood of your countrymen be shed upon the grounds of this country if you but remove your forces and turn over to our care the warcaster whom orchestrated its downfall.

Yours most respectfully,
Forward Kommander Sorcha Kratikoff”

Rage boiled in his soul as he almost let his emotions almost get the best of him. He barely managed to hand the note back to his hierophant in time to see it still in one piece and legible.

“Give this to Allegiant Lee, make sure he knows to get this into the Harbinger’s hands with all due haste.”

His hierophant nodded signifying his understanding and was off in a flash, leaving the High Allegiant alone with his thoughts. He could hear frogs going about their business as if nothing had happened in a nearby pond. The sun was setting in the west as more Menites of his contingent began filing into the area. He shook his head slowly, as if the movement would bring clarity to his mind. The details were becoming more vivid with each passing moment.

Amon had dispatched Allegiant Lee to inform the Harbinger of what they had found. His forward column had come upon a clearing where a house stood in dire need of repairs. Surely this house had previously been the homestead of a fur trapper before its abandonment as he could clearly see a number of drying racks scattered around the premises. On the other side of the clearing was a sloping hill and the entire area beyond was covered in forest, the clearing a not unwelcome sight to his weary men. The High Allegiant had figured it was as good a place as any to make camp after the 8 hour trek out of Leryn the previous evening. His warjacks were running low on fuel anyways, and he had been caught unaware by the Khador ambush. As he entered the clearing, they had come roaring over the hill.

At first all he had seen were winterguard, but his heightened sense soon yielded the presence of a warcaster of no small potency as she let her full power be known. As the winterguard stormed over the hill, the hulking form of a juggernaut came crashing out of the woods and he could vividly remember seeing Sorcha in the shadow behind with a beast of a dog by her side. He scanned his own force, and thought “Praise Menoth, a worthy opponent to test my skills.” The sides were evenly matched.

He quickly ordered his choir to follow the warjacks as he unleashed his will into the machines of war, pushing them to the very edge of their ability and graced their strides with fluid movement. He also channeled his energy to unify the battlegroup which consisted of a Crusader, Devout, Vigilant, and Dervish. He moved up to get a better bead on Sorcha with the Devout ranging just ahead. The Vigilant and Dervish shielded him from direct sight of danger as the Crusader lumbered up the right flank.

As the Crusader closed in menacingly on the winterguard, a few took heart with a rousing speech from their leader and charged into the hulking machination. Their attacks were chaotic as the Crusader hardly took notice. “Hmph,” the High Allegiant thought, “typical.” He noticed that Sorcha had moved up, staying near the forest but not quite in the coverage of the foliage. The Devout sprang into action as the choir sang a hymn over the ruckus of battle and slew two of the winterguard, one being smashed beneath its shield while the other was impaled on the wicked looking halberd. Amon bade the Crusader to trample past the rest of the winterguard, three of which were utterly crushed into nothing and the warjack proceeded to take a mighty swing at the malevolent Juggernaut.

As the Crusader froze in place, Amon guided the Vigilant into a lone winterguard who seemed baffled by the ferocity of the trampling Crusader’s attack and quickly dispatched the poor soul to Urcaen. Amon strode up to yet another small pocket of winterguard as they leveled their guns, simultaneously channeling his graces into the Dervish. He acrobatically and masterfully swung Oblivion in a wide arc of death, the outcome of which does not need to be mentioned. He let out a sigh surveying the violence he had just inflicted as his Dervish ran expertly through the woods into the Juggernaut, striking it with a distracting blow and moving around behind the warjack to get at the Khador caster. Sorscha let out a cry for help, yet not her dog nor any of the remaining winterguard do anything to help her as a flurry of blows descended. Amon opened his mind to connect with the Dervish and guided its attacks, feeling Menoth’s power within his vessel of retribution.

The first swing hit home, then a second and a third. Surely not even the protective field generated by the finely crafted armor worn by Kratikoff could shield her from destruction. Amon fully expected the remaining troops to tuck tail and run when the temperature suddenly dropped. He looked over to see Sorcha whom, against all odds, emerged from a cyclone of cold in front of the Menite and charged head long with her hammersickle viciously poised to deliver a decisive blow. She was obviously badly beaten but adrenaline now fueled her rage. That was all he could remember.

Allegiant Fro, whom Amon had entrusted the rest of his forces to as he scouted ahead, emerged from the woods across the clearing which focused the warcaster’s mind in the present. He raised a hand pointing towards the house and came back to his full height off his perch, the head ache seemed to have passed, and began his trek towards the abandoned house. Fro nodded and entered the stone building, a fire already lit the home’s windows. Amon relished in the thought of rest, but not after meditating and praying for forgiveness from the Creator for failing on the field.

[Harbylove]

I actually read his fluff and found that you are right, he does tell a great story and seems more at home bringing pleasure to others even if he cannot have it himself. I thought it would be cool to show just how good he is at storytelling by having Dartan smiling, for once, upon hearing his tale. Thanks for the feeback Commander Vimes!

[Commander Vimes]

Nice read, again. I wanted Amon battle and I got Amon battle :-)

I am nor sure about the letter, though. Am I right that Sorscha put the letter in Amon's hand while his whole host was unconscious/disabled? However, I am interested how it goes on. The letter must play an important role in the story, because Sorscha left Amon and his troops alive because of it.

[Harbylove]

You are absolutely correct! I forgot to put in the part where he also saw the dead bodies of the choir littered amongst the Khadorian dead, and after he was beaten into unconsciousness his battlegroup went inert and that is when Sorcha left the letter, rightly assuming more Menites would show up. She knew her battered force could not sustain conflict, and as we will see it was not her intent. There will be dark dealings which will have led to her knowing about the situation...the answer is in how one of the choir members was slain (which has not yet been detailed). I am not going to lie, the entire saga had not yet had its plot line finalized and I am constantly brewing up new ideas. Each time I sit down to write, I concoct new ideas. Most of which are thrown out the window, but some stay. This one I am excited about. The letter will play a part in a few months when this story ends and the next begins, back in Leryn proper. The ideas are already in place for that portion, and the major players for that one will be Thyra, Severius, Harbinger, and Ashlynn against Sorcha, at the least, as well as others to be determined!

[Commander Vimes]

Yeah, it's good to mention how the note came into Amon's hand. Otherwise its not clear to the reader WHAT just happended :-)

I am not sure about the whole note-thing though. If Sorscha wanted to bring the note, why did she hastily scrawl it on a sheet of paper? And why did she attack Amon instead of trying to talk to him? The last could be justified as consequence of the story in FoW:PoM with Vindictus.

My advice would be to keep to one storyline, because the unknowing reader can become distracted quite easily ;-)

However, thanks for the creative writing. I am interestet to see how its going on. Keep it up!

[Harbylove]

Part 6

Allegiant Lee neared the campgrounds of the Harbinger’s march column after four hours of travel across the dangerous lands which bordered Lleryn. He had been attacked by a large wolf and sustained a minor wound on his flank while dispatching the beast. The blood seeped still, the wound felt infected, and the monk could feel it sapping his constitution. As he probed his body for any other wounds he emerged silently into the campground near a large fire around which was stationed a large contingent of Temple Flame Guard being serenaded by none other than Rhupert Carvolo. The melody which flowed out of his flute reminded the Allegiant of his home and brought a woman’s visage into clear view. The Allegiant had known her, a long time ago. He felt himself drawn to the fire; none of the Temple Flame Guard even seemed to have noticed.

Rhupert began to sing, his voice full of sadness. He sang of memories long since past of a woman. The beauty of this particular female, even if exaggerated, painted a picture no less pure and glorious than the Harbinger herself. Lee quickly glanced around the circle and saw some of the Guard had removed their helmets and were weeping silently as the tale’s story turned even more tragic. Rhupert’s words wove a tapestry of a warm summer day interrupted by a Khadorian ambush party. The woman tried to flee, but was quickly overtaken and drug away. The flute sounded lovely, and it was as if there were three or more musicians playing with the Piper of Ord as he delved gracfully into a glorious bridge. Lee felt himself wanting to weep as he remembered a girl he once knew, but was quickly brought back into the moment as the Piper sang the last few verses. He spoke of longing, and of an empty soul so deep it was almost unfathomable. The music slowly drifted off into nothing as the Piper finished with a sigh.

“Allegiant….Allegiant….Allegiant!”

Lee awoke to see the face of a masked clergy member who was watching over him. Just beyond the priest floated the Harbinger, and Lee noted a ripple of dried blood in the cloth draped over her side which mirrored the position of his wound. He reached a hand underneath the blanket which covered his body from the cold night air and could feel nothing except mended skin.

“You have risked much to bring this letter to my attention Allegiant, and your services have been justly rewarded.” The Harbinger spoke with a wince of pain and held a hand to her side. Lee’s mind was swimming, he had heard of her powers of Martyrdom but it seemed more legend than truth had comprised the stories. Now he knew there was no lie, and his heart swelled with gratitude as he opened his mouth to speak.

“There is no need for thanks; my flesh is ever at the ready to receive the anguish of fellow faithful who perform their duty admirably. We found you on the outskirts of the camp passed out on the ground. Rhupert brought your body here. His tales have a way of attracting sorrowful souls like moths to a flame. I can see your soul, so I am not surprised. But there is no time to dwell on this matter. I only ask one thing of you now…return to Amon at first light. Let him know not to range ahead of his march column with such a small force from this point forward. Enemies hound at the gate, as it seems, and until we reach Ord I do not feel that we are safe from Khador’s retribution. Once we reach their borders, there will likely be new threats to our safety but for now we must concern ourselves with this more prevalent and known danger.”

Lee nodded his understanding. “Excellent, you shall rest the night in our camp and leave at first light to rejoin Amon. It is only a few hours time from now, so I suggest you make the best use of it Allegiant Lee. Our entire nation is indebted to you for the information you have brought, and please give your master my regards. Tell him he did not fail in the field, indeed I am sure there were more Khadorans than he could see scattered in the woods if indeed this message holds merit, which I trust it does. I take my leave, Allegian, and may Menoth guide you.” The Harbinger smiled at Lee as she clasped a hand on his shoulder and gave a small squeeze before floating out of the medical tent, intent on returning to her command post in the center of the camp.

As the Harbinger floated into the night, Cadwgan saluted and joined her. Since the outset from Leryn, the Harbinger had never been without one of the paladins who had honor bound themselves to protect her. She was relieved to be in the presence of such pure souls.

“Harbinger, do you think Sosrcha’s threat merits a return to Leryn?”

[Harbylove]

“No, my friend, I do not. I feel that Khadorians are in Llael to seek revenge, but not at the will of their queen. They will try in vain to retake this area, sure, but the Northern Crusade will sweep them up like a tide does on the beaches around Sul. Our great army, with its divine purpose, will take these lands as well as the marshes which separate Cygnar from Khador. It is our destiny. Sorscha is a mighty warrior and has history with Vladimir who commands an army outside the regulars which form most of Khador’s military strength. Vladimir is a proud man and likely comes here to seek retribution on his own accord. These things are of no matter to our holy quest. I am certain Heriarch Severius can manage this situation with the full force of the Northern Crusade. I will make sure this letter reaches him.”

The pair finished their trek to the center of the camp in silence, though the Harbinger could sense Cadwgan’s frustration over her solution. Dartan was outside the command tent, and opened the flaps to allow both Cadwgan and the Harbinger to enter. The air was smoky and sweet, and a fragrance lingered which the Harbinger had never smelled before. Madelyn was in a chair, more scantily clothed than usual, and had in her hand a strange looking smoke stick. She smiled as the Harbinger entered.

“Dartan and Cadwgan, would you please ensure that no one interrupts us?”

Both paladins bowed and stepped outside, sealing the tent behind them. Madelyn took a drag from the smoking parcel and blew out three beautiful smoke rings before addressing the Harbinger, still seated.

“A cheap parlor trick I learned from many nights spent with gentlemen at court. However, I am sure you do not know the name of the plant which makes up this joint,” Madelyn explained, holding out the joint for the Harbinger to see, “it is called Sarijuana. It is native to Ord, and has some extremely psychedelic properties. It is a wonderfully fun time, and loosens the tongues of men with weaker spirits quite handily. Yes,” Madelyn continued, holding the burning weed up under her nose pausing to inhale deeply, “it is indeed one of my vices. You should try some, you seem pretty wound up.”

The Harbinger barely contained herself, the insolence of this woman and her lack of morals was beginning to wear on the anointed one. The Harbinger frowned at Madelyn, who smiled in return.

“Ms. Corbeau, I remind you that you are a guest of this entourage. Please do not peddle your drugs and vices here, for certain you will find no customers within our ranks. Our mission is sacred; you should not distract us from our goal lest our stay in your lands lengthen.” This thinly veiled threat seemed for the first time to unsettle the courtesan, who shifted in her chair.

“Is there a reason for your visit? I am happy to entertain your questions and concerns before I get to my rituals and meditation,” the Harbinger said this without looking at Madelyn, but instead floated towards a shrine within which was placed a Menofix. She noticed that there was a similar looking object to the one Madelyn held in her hand placed in whole at the top of the symbol. The Harbinger again resisted the urge to rebuke her guest, and instead removed the foul object and tossed it onto the ground as she turned. The Harbinger’s very flesh seemed to cry out for vengeance, but the Harbinger knew that if she were to harm the courtesan Baird would be all the more likely to mobilize an army to halt her interdiction at the border of Ord. Madelyn’s body language seemed to have reverted to the normal suave state the Harbinger had become accustomed to, almost seeming to know this as well.

“Yes, I have Harbinger. Rumors circulate of a Khador invasion heading to Leryn. Are you not concerned for the Protectorate’s hold of in this area of this fine country?” Madelyn’s inquisition was unsettling. Surely if she knew, others in the Interdiction did as well. If not, they would soon find out for Corbeau’s ability to spread rumors was known to the Harbinger.

“No, as a matter of fact these infidels’ warning was almost insulting. Severius has an entire crusade just itching to deal with such a threat. I promise you, and your King, that the Khador people will never again be in possession of Leryn. I also speculate that Khador hands will be entirely wrested from this country soon. The Protectorate will soon hold Khador occupied Llael. There is no reason to be concerned. I give you my personal guarantee on this.” The Harbinger’s words were spoken with a mix of contempt and diplomatic charm.

“We are both glad to hear this, your highness,” the effrontery was almost palpable as Corbeau spoke, “and give you our thanks. I will make sure that King Baird is informed of this new development as we continue our quest.”

“My pleasure, Madelyn, is there anything else you require?” The Harbinger’s words betrayed her anxiety over ending the meeting. Madelyn rose up from her chair and gave a curtsey.

“No, milady, See you on the morrow.” With that she turned and threw the butt onto the ground. She reached into a small pouch and revealed another with a lighter and lit up a second, breathing in deeply and exhaling before exiting the tent. “Religious fanatics or warmongering barbarians…I do not know which is worse,” Madelyn thought as she returned to her tent.

“Praise Menoth,” the Harbinger thought as she watched Corbeau leave. She had not noticed her hand securely grasping the hilt of Providence, and she let her grip soften as her arm drop to her side. She knew Madelyn needed to be watched, and as if by some trick of fate Golsphan entered the haze of the tent and bowed just as the thought went through her mind.

“Milady, I have a report for you on Corbeau’s dealings. Her tent is always bustling with male activity, her servants come and go, and each one enters alone and leaves the same looking exhausted before another follows suit. Other than this, she scantly left her abode since we made camp. She had no contact with the army, in fact the only time she left was to come here.”

“Thank you, squire; I appreciate your assistance in this.” The Harbinger had entrusted not only Golsphan, but also her loyal paladins, with the task and watching after the woman. She knew that Madelyn would benefit the quest somehow, what other reason would Menoth have for burdening the faithful in such a manner?

[Harbylove]

Part 7

“Harbinger, I promise on pain of death that this letter will reach the hands of Heirarch Severius,” Eryiss proclaimed with a deep bow as she tucked the letter Amon had come into possession of inside a satchel slung low to her side. She fingered the papers contained within; expertly knowing which document went to which individual. She had marching orders for the Testament, orders for Gravus, as well as other minor commanders of the Testament’s column. The Harbinger had wanted to impose as little as possible on the Testament’s peculiar method of command but with Exemplar it was proving difficult. The Exemplar ordered required direct orders before feeling comfortable obeying, and the Testament was, to put it lightly, short on speeches. He was more comfortable in the company of zealots and clergy whom he had some sort of mental connection with. The Harbinger had witnessed him on the field many times, and was always shocked at the efficiency of the chaos which ensued. Not even her divine sight could truly understand how the pieces seemed at once to move at odds with each other but end up in total concert at the correct moment.

The Harbinger nodded to Eryiss and gave her leave to embark upon her missions. There was something different about the Iosan, something the Harbinger could not lay a finger on. She turned back to Iago as she puzzled over the sudden consternation which was harbored in her heart and began to give him orders for the day which needed to be distributed to the troops before moving out. Suddenly Golsphan barged into the tent in a panic. He could not choke out any words; instead he collapsed on the ground panting.

“Iago, water! Quickly!” the Harbinger ordered, and Iago rushed to the spiket just beyond the tree line. She reached down and lifted the child into the air and carried him to a pile of covers in the corner of the tent. Golsphan was calming down, and he swallowed quickly before beginning his report.

“Harbinger, I beg to report activity has been noticed on the outskirts of the camp. Anastasia was at the outermost picket line of Temple Flame Guard when I came upon their position; her eyes were wild with excitement. She had chanced upon a large contingent of Khador soldiers not more than a mile from the perimeter, Sorscha was at the helm. They have bogged down in a swamp land, their gun carriage has gotten stuck in the mud and they now work to free it.” Golsphan reached into his right pocket and revealed a crumpled scrap of paper.

“Anastasia asked me to get this to you; she has made a map of the ground around the area and begs you to come with haste properly armed!” Iago entered the tent carrying a bucket, struggling with its weight. He layed it down on the ground next to the blankets and drew up a ladle full of liquid, which he motioned for Golpshan to drink from. The Harbinger floated towards the tents entrance and studied the map.

The area was perilous; she could ascertain this from the crude scribbling on the parchment. The force was indeed large and the Harbinger felt that almost her entire column would be needed to deal with this opportunity. She lowered the map to her side and whispered a silent prayer to the Creator, searching for answers. To turn her entire column to face this foe would put the Interdicition behind schedule, but she could deal a blow to the invading force which might prove so decisive that Sorscha and Vlad would be forced to retreat to Khador’s borders licking their wounds. She glanced back down at the map and took note of the size of the foe. Men’o War, a Man'o'War Kovnik, Sorscha, a battle engine, a full winterguard squad, a berserker, a juggernaut…indeed she would require assistance to thoroughly deal with this force.

As she pondered the options near the entrance of her tent, the flap was flung open as the paladins began to walk through. They paused, almost running into their lady, and Dartan spoke quickly.

“Harbinger, it is a miracle! I am now more certain than ever that Menoth has blessed this foray! You must come!” he stammered as he turned and beckoned the Harbinger to follow. The sun’s rays were beginning to warm the land and the Harbinger gave a quick praise to her God. Suddenly, she stopped. The entire camp was chanting prayers in Menoth’s name as they bowed to the vessel of holy vengeance which had strode into the camp ground.

With its smoke stacks pluming, the Avatar stood gleaming in the morning sunlight. The Harbinger’s heart filled with religious fervor as she shushed the crowd.

“Let it be known to all that on this day, Menoth has blessed our purpose with the most holy of warriors! All behold and praise the vessel of holy power, the Avatar of Menoth!” The Harbinger floated up to the machine and touched its shield; she could feel the very palpable presence of Menoth within its hull. She said a prayer and tried to commune with him yet still there was nothing. No voice. No visions. The Avatar looked at the Harbinger and nodded before strolling off in the direction of Sorscha’s forces.

“With me, my honored bodyguard! Choir,” she addressed the acolytes which had been cleaning the machine and were now frozen with awe as the Avatar turned to walk away feeling the purpose in its movements, “you will accompany me. Iago! Let us partake in this holy sacrament of battle upon which the Avatar has beseeched us!” She turned to her faithful acolytes which used to be tasked with guiding her around Caen.

“You three, begin the march. With the Avatar at our side, we have all we need! Faithful of the Phlox Diffusa, proceed onwards! We will meet up with you in the fields where Amon’s force took camp the past night!”

Madelyn appeared suddenly at the Harbinger’s side.

“I will accompany you; surely my King would love to hear word of the tyrannical Khadorian’s defeat this day.” The Harbinger felt a pang of sorrow, but begrudgingly nodded to the courtesan as she followed the Avatar into the woods. She began to float after the Avatar singing praise to Menoth with her voice harmonizing with the choirs’. The paladins joined in as well. She linked with the Reckoner which stood at the camps outer rim, dubbed Reign of Fire, which churned to life and followed its master. She felt confident; her purpose had been blessed with the arrival of Menoth’s Avatar on Caen. No one would stand in her way now.

[Sul-Menite]

this is really great...This is just my first impressions

Language:
It can be a bit ornate...having Sev refer to the Harbinger as the "child of the creator" seems to fit with his age and station, but somehow seems a bit much from everyone else. I think they should just refer to her as the "harbinger", in fact in legends(I believe) that's what Amon calls her.

"Milady"-- again it seems a bit out of place, especially since a lot of these people are khadoran from what I gathered, Harbinger seems to be a pretty respectful title all around.

At one point the Harbinger says "thanks for looking out for me"--that really jarred me,it sounds a bit too modern; maybe something like "I appreciate your concern for me" would fit better

Also legends made note of the fact that Amon still has a heavy idrian accent, don't know if you want to work that into his character somehow.

Speaking of Amon, he isnt the head of the Order of the Fist, someone named Haevorn Grayden is.

But all in all this was really good..I'll probably have more thoughts once I read it over again

[Harbylove]

Excellent points Sul! I will look into this and make the changes for sure. I will update the entire story once I have all the corrections and impressions from all around. Thank-you for reading!

[Commander Vimes]

ok, I am doing this in bits in order to remember all my remarks...

part 5: I mentioned it before, but again I am puzzled that the note Sorscha delivers is scrawled hastily....why? It's only a detail, but...

part 6: very good! I especially the interaction of Ruphert, Harby and Corbeau! Only thing: I think that if Corbeau (who has less credit to begin with) is "defiling" the menofix of the Harbinger, it would have harsh consequences. Remember the Harby's consequence in FoW:PoM :-) It struck me as "too much" while reading.

[Commander Vimes]

part 7: very nice again, I think you get the hang of it! I especially liked the part about the Testament and the arrival of the Avatar. And I want how it goes on, so pm me if you would be so kind.

[Harbylove]

Sul- I am making your corrections, I should have the update version up by tonight. I appreciate your comments mate!

Vimes- thanks again mate! I know I never addressed the note, but part 8 will hopefully shed some light on it. I think I did not have the Harbinger flip on Madelyn because as much as she would have wanted to annihilated her at any other point, right now the Harbinger can not touch her if she is going to get into Ord safely and with Baird's blessing. I added this into the section, do you think this is a plausable circumstance? Thanks for all your comments and help, I really appreciate it!

[Harbylove]

Part 8

“See? I told you we could get this damned thing moving again,” Sorscha stated smugly, giving her man'o'war Kovnik a wink. The battle engine had gotten one of its massive wheels stuck in the mud of the godforsaken swamp through which she was attempting to move her army. Vladamir, recently escaped from Protectorate custody, had warned her to take a wider sweep around the swamp and bypass it entirely as they made headway to Leryn with a modest force, intent on dislodging the Protectorate force’s hold on the city. But she had insisted that it would save precious hours of travel time if they made way through the boggy undergrowth, a request to which Vladamir had begrudgingly accepted. It had been all for naught, as this was the second time one of her machine had gotten swallowed up in the soggy bayou.

She felt a tingling in the air, one that she knew all too well. She fired up her arcantarik turbine and turned to the contingent of Men’o’War which had marched with her column.

“Get ready men, we are not alone.”

The Harbinger could sense Sorscha’s presence as the Menites burst into the clearing precisely at the point where Anastasia had said would be the most advantageous position. She felt a sense of divinity that the enemy had made no forward progress since the ground was familiar to her thanks to the map betrothed by the Llael spy. She threw her contingent into battle lines as the Khadorians attacked with fervor. They moved quickly over the water logged terrain with speed that impressed the Harbinger.

The gun carriage jolted into motion towards the Menite army, voicing its disdain for the enemy arrayed before it. Two large shells slammed into the earth well in front of the Menite soldiers, showering the area with water and mud and creating hostile ground in the wake of the heavy payload. No fear was shown as the Harbinger’s column tore towards the enemy battle lines. There was a small hill which the Harbinger had designated as the rally point. The officer of the Temple Flame Guard barked orders to his men and they spread out in a wide array to head to the hill top, and the Harbinger fueled Reign of Fire to sprint towards their objective in hopes of beating the Khador force to the prized high ground. The Avatar seemed to approve as he trudged off in the same direction with the choir singing psalms as they followed.

Dartan glanced over to Delwyn, who was nearest the Harbinger and pointed a gauntleted finger towards the floating form.

“Ensure none of the Khador dogs touch even a hair on our fine lady, Delwyn! You honor our Order this day!” he yelled, channeling all his strength to make him an impenetrable wall and strode in the direction of the gun carriage, now flanked by winter guard.

The enemy continued their advance towards the Menite line, the gun carriage spewing another pair of deadly shells towards Dartan as he advanced. One shell landed dangerously close to Vilmon and exploded with enough force to kill a normal man. Yet his strength of faith shielded him from the onslaught. He staggered through the crater and up the other side to challenge an entire unit of winter guard.

“Be it known now, you barbarians, that your nation is nothing compared to the Protectorate!”

On the left flank, Cadwgan had positioned himself within the ranks of the Flame Guard and sprinted by their sides. Suddenly, a Berserker tore up on the hill in front of them with Kovnik by its side, and he could hear the Flame Guard officer shout over the din of battle.

“Men! With the honor of our lady, let us lay down our lives this day! CHARGE!” With that, the Flame Guard let out a shrill battle cry which would drive fear into the hearts of lesser men and slammed into the pair with blinding speed. Cadwgan felt a surge of energy as he looked to the other side of the hill. The Harbinger was floating in the air above the carnage of battle, a beacon of purity to all who could see. Fiery orange runes emanated in a circle about her waist as her veiled eyes were cocked towards the heavens. He turned his attention to the berserker and he took off in a mad charge.

He swung his Firebrand into the warjacks leg, severing the pistons and gears connecting it to the warjacks body as it staggered back and fell to the earth. The Flame Guard had managed to concentrate their attacks on both of the warjacks arms and disabled them. The Berserker was helpless. Kovnik met a similar fate, a large hole in the armored plate covering his leg had taken him out of action.

On the hilltop, the Harbinger noticed Sorscha advance headlong into her soldiers slowing only to grace the winterguard’s flesh with the strength of iron and form up the Men’o’War in a defensive position near the battle engine she commanded. She had a Juggernaut with her who was now bearing down on Reign of Fire. As the Reckoner crested the hill, loosing shells into the beast, the Juggernaut paused as if confused. The Avatar of Menoth took advantage of the Harbinger’s graces and bellowed with rage, surging into the gun carriage. As he slammed against its hull, the Avatar took two mighty swings of Burning Wrath and the gun carriage was rendered useless. It seemed to the Harbinger as effortless as opening a tin can. With renewed vigor, the Avatar tore into the Men’o’War and began rippimg them apart in spurts of blood and sprockets.

Sorscha could obviously see her line faltering as the winter guard were slowed by Dartan’s menacing advance. A few shots rang out and pelted Vilmon’s body but seemed more like flies than deadly projectiles as they bounced harmlessly off the paladin's shining armor. She quickly turned as Anastasia burst from the undergrowth to Sorscha’s side. The Harbinger could see the anger inherent on the Khador warcaster's face as she charged into Anastasia, who fled the warcaster’s wrath and hid again in the underbrush.

The Harbinger let out a prayer which pierced the hearts of the pure and began to radiate with holy energy from her perch on the hill. As Sorscha began to turn and face the Harbinger, eager to give the Menite a taste of her hammersickle, her flesh was torn asunder by divine energy as the entire Khador contingent came to a halt, staring in awe. The Harbinger took advantage of the lull in the Khador army to take direct control of Reign of Fire and barrel it into the Juggernaut as it attempted to engage the Avatar.

Reign of Fire charged headlong into the Juggernaut, slamming into it with the entirety of its bulk. The Juggernaut was blasted in the side, and staggered back unable to defend itself. The Reckoner leveled the condemner cannon, enhanced by the choir’s prayers, and sent a shell whizzing into the heart of the infernal machine. A gaping hole appeared in the Juggernaut’s chest and the consecrator mace quickly smashed the iron armor into a pile of scrap. Sorscha attempted to make good her escape, running behind her winter guard screen and began channeling arcane magic. Just as red runes began to glow around the Khador warcaster’s hands Reign of Fire’s condemner sang out once more with Menoth’s glory and slammed into the protective field, slamming Sorscha to the ground.

The Avatar ran up to where Sorscha was lying and the winter guard layed down their rifles surrendering as the Flame Guard swarmed over the hill with their spears leveled. The Harbinger spoke a prayer to Menoth thanking him for victory on this day in a quick and timely matter with little loss of life among the ranks of the faithful. The chaos of battle was over.



Commander Vimes, the note will be the focal point of the next portion I promise. I am still working out the details of how it will actually work in the story itself. I hope you like the next installment, the ideas are formulated and I am excited to write it up!

[Doblin James]

Great piece! Keep up the good work!

[Tarma]

First your story is splendid. There is not a single place, where you get that feeling: Look that is impossible. And the story goes on fluently, and that make it a pleasure to read.

It was a little surprise, that the Avatar not was there from the start, (where the Harbinger goes, the Avatar, the Testament and Vilmon, usually goes to), but he enter the story, at the right moment.

You has also given some of the mercenrys more charateristic, and that is fine, (that is clear that faith is not "Milady's" biggest worry).

There was some places, in the start, there make me smile, but that was because I was getting some pictures, made of the difference between English and Danish.

I find however 2 mistakes:

1: It is Vladimir, not Vladamir.

2: Sorscha would not use the words my queen, she would say my empress. I'm suprised that Commander Vimes & Sul-Menite not has notice that.

I look forvard to read more.

Tarma

[Harbylove]

Great points Tarma, thank-you! Good catches for sure, appreciate your feedback! I had thought about adding the Avatar in, but I thought it would be more symbolic to have him show up out of nowhere after the interdiction suffered a defeat before they even got into Ord.

Thank you for reading Doblin James, I appreciate the feedback!

Look for part 9 around Thusdays or Friday!

[Commander Vimes]

I am still in, just waiting for part 9

[Harbylove]

It's coming, I got behind on school work. I am editing it now, it has one more revision to go then it will be up!

[Harbylove]

Part 9

The Harbinger approached the spot where Sorscha was lying supine; one of the Avatar’s massive metal feet had her pinned in place against the earth. Sorscha squirmed a little to get a better view of her winter guard who had been huddled together 30 yards away and were surrounded by a picket of flame guard. They seemed to be none the worse for having been in combat and subsequently captured by the victorious menites. She caught the eye of the unit leader and winked, trying to give some semblance of hope to her men. She was not certain now of their fate; one of her largest fears was being sent to Heirarch Severius in Leryn. Vladamir had spoken of the horrors he was forced to endure at the hands of Vindictus, and Sorscha was unsure if she would be up to a similar challenge by a more powerful scurator.

The Harbinger drifted closer, studying the souls of the winter guard and feeling the fiery defiance within their chests. She expected nothing less of men and women so devoted to a cause just as she did with her own soldiers. Rather impressed at the state of the captured soldiers, the Harbinger focused on Sorscha. The Khador caster was more worried about her soldiers than her own skein but there was a hint of fear that she may be forced to answer personally to Heirarch Severius. She let Sorscha’s mind run wild for a few more moments before speaking.

“Sorscha Kratikoff, it is a pleasure to see you here. I am very interested in your business in Llael. Last I checked, your nations arm did not reach into this territory, it now belongs to the Creator.”

“Lands change hands just as the tide shifts, Harbinger. What you hold now you may not on the morrow. If I were you, I would not get too comfortable. And that you Menite’s believe you can wrest Llael from our empress is idealist indeed, but also naïve.”

“Sorscha, you are in no position to speak with a poisoned tongue. I am sure if Severius were in front of you your mannerisms would be much different. I simply wish to know your business marching with such an armed force through our country’s land. If you do not wish to indulge my curiosity, I am sure I can arrange a meeting with the Heirarch. Would that suit you?”

“Do not threaten me, Harbinger,” Sorcha could not control her temper, the fear mixed with rage and she could feel her emotions getting away from her, “I am sure you are aware I do not march alone. This is but a trickle in a larger army, we come to stop your ‘holy’ crusade from any further success.”

“Well, we know Vladamir is most likely in the area, and thanks to you I now know that this is truth. How unwise to wear your emotions on your sleeve making it all the easier to peer into your soul. I can promise you I have no intention of taking land from your empress. Yet, anyway. We are simply doing as we are willed to, and any further details you need not be privy to Kommander.”

The Harbinger stopped, almost seeming to have more to say. She was quiet for a few moments and Sorscha shifted underneath the Avatar’s bulk out of anxiety. Her rage was subsiding, and her fear seeped from her breast into the ground. She was unsure where this sudden surge of confidence originated from, but it suited her position and she took advantage of this new found boon.

“Harbinger, I do not appreciate being toyed with. I am a student of my enemies, and I am sure you know more than you are letting on. I am sure you received my note. I apologize for the hastiness with which it was scrawled, but truth be told I was not ready for such an event to transpire in the meadow a few days past. It is true that there be no need for further bloodshed for the now if but your Hierarch would only heed the olive branch our empress has extended.”

The Harbinger felt the shift in emotions as well, and if the situation were different perhaps she would be worried. Sorscha was a dangerous adversary indeed. But the Harbinger was more confident in the current circumstances with good reason.

“Your note has been received; it is headed to the Hierarch in the hands of a trusted servant. He will decide whether our countries will go to war once again. It is obvious to me that the disposition of your armies is stretched thin since you also war with Cygnar. It would be unwise to leave a wounded beast to deal with our army. We have taken Llael, and it is now our province. Can your country wage a war on two fronts and maintain a hold on the lands you have already gained? Not even your great Irusk, I feel, would be able to prevail against such odds. I have a solution to our conundrum, if you would like to hear it?”

“You have my attention Harbinger, but if we are to speak terms I would ask that the Avatar release me from its grasp.”

The Avatar turned and looked at the Harbinger, the fire in its eyes dimming slightly. The Harbinger waved a hand and he withdrew his armored boot from Sorscha’s chest. Kratikoff hoisted herself up from the ground and tried in vain to wipe the med from her armor.

“Thank you, Harbinger. Since you have proven peaceful intentions, I am willing to hear your terms.”

“Sorscha, I am well aware that you do not speak with the authority of your Empress. Your ruse is all for naught, as entertaining as it was. Whether you and Prince Vladimir intend to make our lives more difficult is your own decision, but I must warn you that you do not possess the strength to pry this land from our grasp. The inhabitants are content with our occupation here, whereas they were not when your forces held this great country. I simply ask that you return to Vladimir and tell him to return to the north. I do not wish further conflict with Khador at this time; I simply wish to curtail violent outbursts as we solidify our plans for the future. If you believe you have the strength to dislodge Severius from Leryn, then by all means you may attempt it. But you will find a force that will not soon bend to your requests.”

Sorscha mulled this over in her mind, and nodded as a tear graced her cheek. She felt a shaming enter her chest at having been beaten so thoroughly as to have no other alternative.

“Very well, we will leave your men with their money. We will even give them back their weapons. Make haste Sorscha, and I pray Menoth grant you speed in your return to Khador’s borders.”

With that, the Harbinger turned and issued orders to her force. Columns were formed and they marched off with chants lifting to the heaven’s praising the Creator’s name. As the splendid white banner of the flameguard drifted off into the distance, Sorscha breathed a sigh of relief. The note did indeed have the intended effect, and their spy within the Harbinger’s entourage was spreading the seeds of misdirection within the enemy ranks. Vladimir had more confidence in the plan of deception than Sorscha, and now she saw the genius of it all. As her party marched off to meet with the rest of the army, she felt confident in the chances of the mission.

[Harbylove]

As her party left the cover of trees and entered the campground, Sorscha took a moment to take in the grandeur of it all. Rows and rows of tents, machines, and tools of war sprawled out before her. Thousands of winter guard practiced their battlefield maneuvers as mechanics serviced nearly 100 heavy warjacks.

She strolled through the camp to a large tent adorned with the family crest of the Tziscipi’s and she bade two burly Ironfangs who stood guard to open the flaps. Vladimir looked up from his table and smiled warmly as Sorscha entered and bowed.

“So, I take it our ruse succeeded? What information did you glean from the Harbinger?”

“The Harbinger is indeed operating independently from Severius now, she heads West with her column just as our source said. Her hubris is likely shared by the Heirarch, they have no respect for our armies strength and indeed are still blind to our true size. It was more difficult than I had imagined keeping my thoughts and emotions from giving us away.”

Vladimir sat back with a contended sigh and beckoned Sorscha to sit across from him at the table.

“Very well, my dear, let us ponder which avenue gives us the best chance of success.”

I have hit a little smattering of writer's block, so it might be a couple weeks before a new installment "hits the shelves," as it were. As always, hit me with hard nosed feedback!

[Harbylove]

Part 10

The rain fell in droves as if trying to wash the blood from the soil where the faithful soldiers of the Interdiction Phlox Diffusa marched. The night breeze was biting as soldiers, warjacks, and wagons alike tried desperately to keep pace so their feet and wheels did not sink into the mud. The torches burned brightly, illuminating a swathe of the country side as Menoth’s Fury burned irrespective of the conditions which abounded. The Harbinger and the Avatar were the only ones of the march column who seemed unaffected by the driving sheets which pounded away at the rest of the entourage. In fact, the Harbinger was bone dry; it was as if there was a split in the heavens above both her and the anointed warjack, Menoth’s vessels on Caen.

Lightning struck a withered burnt out old tree on top of a nearby hill sending a flash as bright as day across the landscape and thunder boomed, yet still the soldiers of Menoth carried on. The Harbinger sensed the determination in her men; their higher purpose drove them forth with a conviction which bordered on insanity. The Harbinger felt a slight tug at her flowing dress and she looked down to see Golsphan, shivering, staring back up at her from the muddy road.

“My child, do you have the strength to carry on?”

Golsphan’s eyes were bloodshot, his body shivering. His voice trembled as he responded “Yes, Harbinger. But I do wonder how much further we will go?”

“In a matter of a few miles, Acolyte Golsphan, we will find reprieve. I am sure of it. I wish only to get our army on the border of Llael before we bivouac for the night.”

Golsphan nodded in understanding. Dartan, who walked beside the Harbinger, barely missed a step as he scooped the child up in his arms. The Harbinger nodded to the high paladin as Golsphan fell into a deep sleep. It was a miracle anyone could take rest with the full fury of nature tearing apart the landscape.

After a few hundred more yards, or feet, it was difficult to discern, a halt was ordered. Eryiss strolled through the ranks with uncharacteristic ease given the circumstances towards the Harbinger and bowed.

“Yes, Eryiss?”

“Harbinger, we are now at the western border of Llael. I have been to Amon’s column and he reports that there is a raging river swollen by the storm a mile ahead, and on the other side maybe another mile or so beyond there is a contingent of Khadorans camped for the night. He ordered his column to bed down for the night in a stand of trees near a rocky outcropping where the warjacks in his care can rest without fear of sinking in this damned sopping mud.”

“Very well, we will make camp here. It will take two days march from this point to cross the war torn land between Llael and Ord. Eryiss, you must make haste to reach the Testament’s column. Let him know to close the gap between his and ours, we will not enter this dangerous stretch in pieces, we must be able to bring the full force of our armies to bear if a conflict arises and move quickly. There is full blown war between Cygnar and Khador which looms unsettlingly close to where we stand.”

Eryiss face became grave as she cocked her head to the side, straining her heightened senses to the wind.

“You are indeed correct, Harbinger. The sounds of battle are indeed fairly close. I will ensure your message reaches the Testament’s ears.”

With that she darted off, quickly out of sight as men all around struggled with canvas and poles to set up make shift dog tents to shield themselves in vain from the driving sheets.

[Harbylove]

Part 11

Eryiss raced through the forest with practiced ease, stopping intermittently to check her surroundings. She would halt and sniff the winds for any hint of a scent which would indicate the march column. After a few hours of such pauses, the sound of metallic grinding so peculiar of primitive human warjacks could be heard in the distance. “Humans,” she thought, “never ones to conceal their movements.” It did not take her long to reach a road running through a clearing. She loaded her cross bow, pulling a cloth from her satchel saturated with Menoth’s Fury. She tied the violatile parcel to the end of a bolt and aimed at a tree on the other side of the road after lighting it aflame. The cross bow let out a slight thunk as the projectile whizzed out of the cradle, the bow string carelessly flinging water out in a spray of droplets. The shot hit home, and immediately there were shouts from the column and a halt was ordered.

After a few minutes, a rather large and imposing figure emerged from the front of the column behind. Even Eryiss keen senses could only make out silhouettes of the soldiers arrayed in front of her, but she was certain she had found her envoy.

“Eryiss, you are safe, please reveal yourself! We have much to discuss.” The male voice was booming and brimming with aged arrogance. Eryiss smiled and stepped out from the tree line, approaching the figure. As she drew closer, the striking features of Vladimir Tzescepi became clear and she could see him smiling in approval. Sorscha stood next to him amid the Ulhan body guard which was just behind their master, ever eager to give their lives to save the prince. Eryiss bowed as she approached, and Vladimir motioned her to follow him back to the column by his side.

“You have succeeded then? The weather has certainly benefited our cause this day. The smell of the forest after a storm is pungent and will only aid us in maintaining the element of surprise on the morrow. I only wish our army could take rest on a night such as this, but this depends on the disposition and condition of the Menite incursion. Please, Eryiss, enlighten me as we take our reprieve from the elements.”

They had walked up to a covered wagon from which wafted the sweet smell of scented oils. The fragrance was opulent as well as out of place for the surroundings, but the chance to get out of the sopping mud put this curious notion out of mind. Vladimir helped Sorscha into the wagon first, then extended a hand to Eryiss, who waved him off with a sly smile. She placed a hand on the edge of the wagon and swiftly lifted herself into the sweet smelling sanctuary. Vladimir smiled as he watched Eryiss disappear into the flaps, a slight reddening becoming evident on his face as he lifted himself in last.

Eryiss took a look around inside the wagon. It was indeed quite extravagant, there were wine goblets on a fine oak table in the back, and red silk swaddled cotton beds lining either side. There was a foreign looking vessel in the middle of the wagon, 4 cloth covered corded pipes snaked out and she instantly realized this as the source of the fragrance. She was slightly taken back at being proven wrong, her senses were so finely tuned that this was a rare thing. Sorscha picked up one of the curious looking hoses, seeing the confusion on Eryiss’ face and inhaled deeply. She placed the tube down and exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Would you like some, Eryiss? This hookah is favored by Prince Vladimir, I am sure he would encourage you to partake as we discuss our plans.”

She held out a tube to Eryiss, who took hold and placed the nozzle between her lips. She inhaled then let out a hacking cough as the smoke filled her lungs. The particles of smoke burned from her throat to her lungs and she let out struggled gasps as her eyes went bloodshot. Sorscha chuckled and retrieved the mouth piece as Vladimir entered the wagon.

“A little too much for the first hit, but I assure you acclimation comes quick,” Sorscha said.

“Indeed. Alright Eryiss, what is the situation? I am curious to see how well my coin has served our cause,” Vladimir followed up Sorscha’s comment. Eryiss coughed a few more times and regained her composure as Sorscha once again inhaled from the pipe. After Sorcha had taken her smoke Vladimir nabbed another of the tubes, settling into one of the beds next to Sorscha inhaling deeply.

“The Protectorate forces are all in close proximity and fairly blind to the country side now. They have moved with haste to get to the border of Llael, wanting to reach Ord quiclkly due to the conflict which even now boils between Cygnar and Khador. The Harbinger is well aware of the risk, and will make haste to cross the territory as undisturbed as possible. Luckily, there is a river the Menites must cross in order to advance. Normally, this river is quite shallow and can be forded with ease, but the torrential rains have swelled this body into a raging hazard which the Menites will either have to wait to recede or build a make shift dam to stem the tide. I believe Amon’s battlegroup will try the later in order to move the army quickly over the landscape, but whatever the path they choose the time to strike is now unless forces from the front lines can be redirected to block their path.” Eryiss gave the report in an even tone, watching Vladimir and Sorscha partake in the hookah weed. Vladimir raised a hand to respond, letting out expertly formed smoke rings indicative of an experienced user.

“Our armies south of here have been making great strides against Cygnar, and it is unlikely that Irusk will see the benefit to dispatching forces from the front line to deal with an enemy who has no intention of attacking his lines. Therefore, I would expect that we should strike now especially if the enemy is bunched up with their backs to a battlefield and their flank to a raging river. We could smash them to pieces and send a message to Severius in Leryn, demoralizing the Northern Crusade as a whole.” Vladimir stood up and crossed the tent as he finished his thoughts, grabbing a parchment from the oak table and handing it to Eryiss.

“Please, make notes on dispositions, distances, and terrain upon which the unsuspecting Menites are now harbored. Then make haste back to their columns to belay suspicion.”

Eryiss nodded and skillfully drew an intricate picture of the area requested. As she finished she handed the paper back to Vladimir who nodded in approval. He looked over to Eryiss and waved a hand to dismiss her. She skillfully bounded out of the tent and was gone. Vladimir poured over the map a little longer and showed it to Sorscha. Sorscha leaned in to see the map and placed a hand on Vladimir’s shoulder, nodding in approval and giving a sly smile.

“Victory will be ours, my dear. Let us celebrate our upcoming victory! Kovnik!” Vladimir yelled out and an armoured head popped in through the flap.

“Give orders to move south, there is a trail which begins 100 yards further up which should give us the easiest lane to pass through the forest.” The Kovnik nodded and left. After a few moments the wagon jostled as the Khadoran march column began to move once more, like a snake weaving in on a kill. Vladimir grabbed Sorscha and pulled her close, brushing a strand of hair from her face behind her ear. Their lips connected as passion overcame the warcasters amid the thundering of the heavens.

[Harbylove]

Part 12

The rains eventually ceased as Eryiss made her way back to the Menite march column. Even though the night was cold, Eryiss brow bristled with sweat. Her accelerated breathing rose on the night air as puffs of fog. She was not in the business of double crossing those who employed her, and her worst fear was being uncovered by the Menites. Her mind slipped into memories of watching the Menite crusade under Severius first break into Llael in a small town just inside the border of the country. It was a peaceful farming town who, to their unfortunate downfall, worshipped Morrow above all and strictly adhered to His teachings.

From a tree line, having provided information of the country side to the Nothern Crusade, she watched as High Executioner Servath Reznik was unleashed in a murderous fury upon the town. The cries of the children and elderly were at least cut short, he was an animal but at least he had some semblance of compassion when it came to his craft. The younger men and women of the village met a much more sinister fate on the wracks so loved by the Protectorate forces as punishment for heresy. Reznik and his entourage set up a veritable sea of the large metallic posts all over the country side overlooking the burning village and strung up those unlucky enough to not have been slain outright.

She remember their cries as one by one a glowing appeared in their chest as their body was consumed by conflagrating holy fire and exploded in a burst of searing light. She shuddered to think she might meet a similar fate in light of the circumstances, not to mention she would at least be denied future contracts with human warcasters which would glean intelligence so necessary to the Retribution’s cause. She trusted that the Khadoran’s, for their part, would keep the secret. She pushed these haunting thoughts out of her mind as she came upon the Testament’s march column.

Thankfully they were still on the march, and had not already met the Harbinger’s force. The rains had really slowed their advance and Eryiss dared thank Scryah for this small fortune. In her enthusiasm she miss-stepped and a twig snapped underfoot, which was greeted with a crossbow bolt which landed with a sickening thud in a rain soaked tree trunk inches above her head.

“Halt! Who goes there?!” a voice called out in the darkness. Eryiss retrieved the bolt from the tree trunk and moved behind a larger tree to her left.

“It is Eryiss, you fool!” Eryiss face reddened with anger not only at herself, but also at the insolence of the Errant who had wildly shot first and asked questions afterwards. “You could have killed me!” She emerged with hands up from behind her bastion of safety to see a group of 4 Exemplar standing with crossbows lowered ready to riddle any enemy full of bolts in righteous indignation.

“Eryiss,” the young Menite spat, “where have you been, we have been looking for you.”

“Even the best tracker can get lost under these circumstances,” Eryiss lied with ease; she was actually surprised at how easily the untruth flowed from her mouth. She walked up to the lead Errant and handed the bolt to him. “Maybe you should not be so careless, regardless of the circumstances.”

The Errants guided the Iosan through a swathe of knights, whose armour was resplendent despite the conditions. She had to admit; it was truly a glorious sight to behold the shining armour and purple vestments they wore. A haggard and tired looking senior Exemplar approached with a scowl.

“You are late. Very late in fact, Eryiss. Do you at least bring word from the Harbinger or are you going to prove more useless than I thought?” Gravus asked gruffly, coughing slightly. The elements had not been kind to his aged constitution, but for his age he weathered the campaign very well.

“I do, High Exemplar, these are yours.” Eryiss reached into her satchel and retrieved the orders meant for Gravus and tossed them into his waiting hand. He broke the seal and read through them and gave a contented grunt as he cocked his head towards the middle of the column, taking his leave without truly dismissing Eryiss as he began barking orders to the Exemplar contingent. Eryiss closed her eyes and shook her head, swallowing a retort and moving on to face the Testament whom she could see trudging along alone paying little heed to the state of the muddy road. The Exemplar were clearly keeping their distance from the Reclaimer, knowing full well that he might just turn and slaughter any of the column in the blink of an eye with no reason. Fire of Salvation, Kreoss favored warjack, marched nearby. She could hear it intermittently giving off angry shrieks of steam signaling its distaste for the circumstances, but whether it was due to the difficulty of the ground or having been forced to serve the Testament was unknown.

[Harbylove]

Part 13

Eryiss waited until the Testament?s column was within 15 minutes of the Harbinger?s camp ground and sought out the ever silent warcaster. She found him still moving with purpose in his stride, ever looking forward.

?Testament, the Harbinger?s column is encamped not a mile from this point along the road. I must now take my leave and return to Leryn to place Sorscha?s note in the hands of the Heirarch. I ask for your approval before departing.?

The Testament turned to face her; there was a curiosity in his eyes that shook Eryiss to her core. He studied the Iosan for a few moments and nodded his fearsome masked face and continued on with the column. The Testament was worried, indeed there was something not right about Eryiss emotional state, but he was uncertain what it was. Without Menoth?s divine guidance, which was absent him as well as the Harbinger, there was no way to truly glean the required information from her soul to make any sort of accusation.

The Exemplar contingent met up with the Harbinger?s column just as the sun was peaking out over a ridge to the West. The Testament gave silent prayers to Menoth for helping him find his objective with no problems aside from the loss of one wagon in the muddy road. He strode through the make shift camp, already bustling with activity, to find the Harbinger and Amon perched on a rocky outcropping at the top of a low sloping hill not far from the road. Vilmon, Cadwgan, and Delwynn were present as well as the child the Harbinger had saved back in Leryn. They were looking thought a spy glass westwards as he approached.

?Good morning, my companion. I am glad the weather did not hinder you finding our column,? the Harbinger explained as Amon lowered the spy glass plastered to his face and handed it to the Testament.

?It appears Menoth has a test for us this day,? he explained as the Testatment nodded and accepted the scope, ?the river is swollen and rages, fueled by the pervious storm.?

The Testament could see the river not more than a mile from their position. It rampaged through a lush field of green; indeed this area was quite fertile. It was a truly surprising site for having seen so much war tear through the open fields and meadows when Khador had pushed Cygnar defenders back into their homeland. Already the warjacks and the Idrians of Amon?s contingent were working on a dam to stem the river?s anger. It was slow work. He winced as one of the bracing logs gave way and a few of the Idrian?s stationed near the log were swept downstream on the raging rapids. He lowered the glass and turned to the Harbinger, a curious glint sparkled in his eyes.

?My friend, we must ford this river. As I understand it the nearest bridge is a few miles more south of here and that road takes us dangerously close to the open hostilities taking place. We cannot give any enemy the satisfaction of catching us in this position. So far the Khadoran?s south of here still have their attention on the Cygnarans at Point Bourne. However, there was something amiss about Eryiss the past few days. Without the divine guidance of the Creator I could not get a good read on the disturbance in her. There is a gnawing in my mind that something sinister is about to happen. All I can determine at this time is that we must move with haste.?

The Testament nodded and put a hand to his chest, signaling that he had also felt the same dread. He waved a gauntleted hand in the air and motioned back East.

?Oh good, then our messenger is at least heading to Severius. I hate to admit it, but I am glad to be rid of her. Her reputation notwithstanding, I am unsure whether I would trust Eryiss again.?

The Testament nodded in agreement.

?Harbinger, I respectfully interject once again I feel it would be prudent to move our army closer to the river. At any rate, it will speed the crossing once the dam is finished.? Dartan spoke up from behind the Testament, there was a mixture of respect and anxiety in his tone. The Testament looked up at the Harbinger and nodded, as did Amon. The Testament waved to his column and fanned his hand over the countryside to the North.

?I agree with the Testament, Harbinger. I think the only danger now lies North of us, if from anywhere. My column can handle the construction given the proper time.? Amon?s words were spoken as he lifted the spyglass up to his eye. He scanned the area North, in the direction the Testament had gestured moments before to see what looked to be a serene forest. There was something peculiar, perhaps it was the absence of wildlife going about their business. It was as unnerving calm which infected the entire assembly.

[Harbylove]

?I appreciate your counsel, friends. I think you are right, we shall move towards the river. Testament, I think you should do as you suggested and fan your contingent out to the north in an effort to find and alert us to any possible threats to our interdiction. Amon, do you have any further intelligence on the Khadoran camp on the other side of the river??

?We could not cross the river, Harbinger, but from what we could glean the column was acting at odds with a typical column of Khador troops. We did not see tem drinking, laughing, or really interacting with each other in any way. They moved out at once before first light and slowly tracked South to the fighting. It was an oddity to see them act as such. Yet at any rate they have taken leave without seeming to notice our column. Thanks I am sure to spending the night without fires to give away our position.?

The Harbinger nodded and bade the group take their leave as Anastasia approached the hill top. Her face was twisted in a scowl and there was a fire in heart. She emanated her purpose, her demeanor signaled to all she required audience with the Harbinger and her alone. Amon and Testament bowed and went to their respective columns. The paladins turned to head back to camp as well, but the Harbinger stopped Dartan before he got too far.

?High Paladin, please make sure that the Exemplar as well as our column are moved to their proper positions.?

?Your will be done, Harbinger. You know that the Exemplar hold my order in disdain still. Time has done little to alleviate their mistrust of the Order of the Wall.?

?I know. In time, these sentiments will be no more. Weather the storm with pride and grace and you will soon see their attitudes shift.? With that, Vilmon bowed and followed the rest of the group heading back to camp.

The Harbinger let out a sigh; she had not rested in over a day. But her mission stood on the brink of closure to the first chapter and there was not time to waste on such luxuries. Anastasia watched as the rest took their leave and approached the Harbinger, her silky voice held a small hint of malice as she spoke her mind freely.

?There was something about Eryiss I fear has changed. I am sure you have noted it yourself, Harbinger, but that is not why I have sought your counsel.?

?My ears are yours, mistress di Bray.?

?I have word from the Marshall who has been scouring the country side of late. As you know, your Grand Exemplar was sent to Rhydden not long ago and was attacked by Cryx even as he attempted to take the city. That place is the last bastion of the Resistance. We helped your country wrest Khador hands from Leryn. This was done under the impression we would be finally left with our country. In this, we were apparently deceived,? Anastasia?s voice bordered on maliciousness, ?but after witnessing the events which transpired in Rhydden, and hearing of the condition seen in the Khador camp I fear Cryx has stronger hold in these lands than we thought. Ashlynn knows the Resistance is too weak to continue expunging Khador hands from the country side, as well as dealing with a Cryx infestation. We are, as you can see, stretched to the limits of our moral and manpower,? Anastasia?s demeanour suddenly turned much softer, almost resigning to facts. Her shoulders slumped and she sighed in despair. A single tear graced her cheek as the woman continued, defeat in her voice.

?It is clear to us we might never have a country to truly call our own, Harbinger. But I need to know the exact plans the Protectorate has for this land. I have seen the changes in Leryn first hand and, to say the least, I was disturbed at the conversion. The Resistance is willing to offer itself to Protectorate rule, to allow your heirarch to call upon our strength and aid whenever you need it. We feebly request that, for your part, the Protectorate at least allow us the small consolation that we rule our own country as we see fit, with proper worship to Menoth instilled in the populace of course. The Marshall requests that once this mysterious quest is completed, Khador is pushed out of our borders, and the Cryx infestation eradicated, we are given our leave to govern the populace with tithes sent to your treasuries and garrisons. In return, as I stated, we ask that the Synod only be given authority to govern the religious worship of our country. We have taken great lengths and taken a heavy toll to aid the Protectorate so far, we would ask that this request be allowed presentation to your heirarch.?

Anastasia finished with another long, drawn out sigh. Her body language had changed drastically, her usual fiery attitude being replaced by the heavy burden of understanding the only possibility for a future in which the Llaelese people would be allowed to prosper. The humble request caught the Harbinger off guard, she was not prepared to hear such a heavy hearted request from such a staunch figure who ridigly held to her beliefs.

?This request is not one I can grant, as you understand. Severius is head of state affairs, I simply give counsel. This thing you ask seems reasonable enough, I only beg you to understand that a Cryx infestation can take years to eradicate. Upon our return, if Menoth wills it so, I will speak with Severius and do what I can to ease his attitude towards your Marshall?s plea. I can guarantee nothing at this time, but if you continue to serve us faithfully I will do what I can. We in the Protectorate are not as harsh as others make it out to seem. Let us look to this day, I will prepare my counsel for Severius at your request.?

As the Harbinger drifted back to her Interdicton, Anastasia by her side, she noticed a panic sweep across the army as explosions raked through the formations. A battle had come to the soldiers of Phlox DIffusa, at the worst possible time.

[Harbylove]

Part 14

Sorscha rushed her Winter Guard through the trees as they narrowed the gap between their current position and the enemy camp. The gun carriages and Destroyers had already begun to take their toll of the Menite army, a tithe which was paid with their blood and fighting spirit. She stopped as the tree line ended and surveyed the ground which rolled out before her. She was closer to the river than Vladimir, tasked with halting the dam construction under the current guidance of Amon’s column. She could see other soldier’s from Harbinger’s command beginning to spread out to protect the perimeter. A veritable sea of flame spears engulfed the lush green country side, forming a shell at the foot of a slight rise of ground on top of which a few sunburst crews were beginning to position themselves along with a compliment of Reckoners. Sorscha counted at least two full phalanxes along with a tide of fanatical zealots. She knew that as of yet the main battle had only just begun on her left flank, the Menites apparently did not suspect that any Khadoran troops had managed to come this far yet. She took a moment to appreciate the enemy’s understanding of the predicament fate and timing had forced them to deal with, savoring the anxiety and uncertainty which no doubt clawed at the corner of their minds.

She turned to take stock her own forces. The blunderbusses of a thousand hundred Winter Guard glinted in the morning rays. She winced, realizing she would eventually be spotted once the enemy’s attention was fully given to the trees she now inhabited. She raised a fist, fanned out her fingers and lowered her hand to the ground, prompting the Winter Guard to immediately hug the earth. Intermingled with the Winter Guard were Kossite Woodsmen and Manhunters, dozens of each also lay in wait thirsting for battle. She strode back to Kovnik Plazkhov who now served as her master of ordinance. He was leaning against a tree trunk deeper within the forest cover finishing up a juicy green apple as she approached. His gaze caught the warcaster’s and he gave a lackadaisical salute as she approached.

“Kovnik, as soon as we move to engage the Menites, I want you to station the mortars just in cover of the trees and shell those dam workers. Between their fire and the Widowmakers we should be able to slow their progress enough prevent their escape.” Sorscha chose to ignore the Kovnik’s lack of appreciation for rank, knowing that his personal demeanor belied his genius in directing the fire of artillery batteries warjack and human alike.

“Yes, Kommander. It shall be so. When do we engage?” Small spurts of apples flew out from the corner of his mouth the words were spoken through, the man not bothering to stop eating while his superior addressed him.

“We must wait until the men’o’war and Berserkers so loved by the Prince appear on their right flank, we will require their support if we are to keep that line of spears out of your guts.”

The Kovnik winked with a smile as a young, gruff, and wiry looking widowmaker came forth. He crisply saluted to Kratikoff as Plazkhov choked down a laugh. The widowmaker’s face reddened as Sorscha began to speak after returning the salute.

“Ignore his mockery, he is quite an indignant fellow. If it were not for the skills he possessed, I am sure he would not be in such a position.” She shot the Kovnik a warning glare and raised a hand, and he immediately scowled and walked back to check on the mortar squads. “Get your snipers in the trees just inside the woodland’s edge. Make sure you have clear lines to the Protectorate workers in the river. Start with those who are giving orders, and work your way through them.”

The young man turned to inspect the target, and looked back rubbing his scraggly beard in thought.

“Kommander, that is quite a distance. They might barely be in range of the mortars.”

“This is true, but your men were given silk to pad their barrels. This should give you a hundred more yards at least. This is a chance for your squad to prove itself. You are Khadoran soldiers in a line of work rich in history, you will do us proud.”

With that the young man saluted once more and snaked his way back to relay orders. Sorscha took another glance back towards the Menite position. Choirs had set up with the Reckoner’s on the hill. She could also see that the Avatar had settled among the Flameguard, the Harbinger nearby. Zealots were scouring the field, apparently looking for foxholes and hides. Repenters also joined the Flameguard, ready to pour the painfully violatile contents of their flame throwers into her countrymen lest they stray to close.

“Vladimir better push harder, or this attack will be all for naught,” she thought.

[Harbylove]

Part 15

The Harbinger had caught up with the Testament who was amid the din of battle already, grabbing Exemplar and pushing them into battle lines. He snapped his fingers to one of the seneschals and lowered his mace towards the tree line. The man understood immediately, although he hesitated long enough to shoot the Harbinger a quizzical look. The Testament had ordered his troops into the field without giving orders in case the worse should happen. She nodded her head, and he barked to the men grouped nearby. The group snapped to attention, loaded their crossbows, and they spread out over the ground loosing deadly bolts into the forest just beyond.

The Testament saw the Harbinger nod and approached, there was clear frustration in his eyes. He was having difficulty controlling the Exemplar. Fire of Salvation was just behind the great warrior, letting off the same peculiar vents of steam which the Testament had become accustomed to hearing. He shook his head as the Harbinger put a hand on his shoulder.

?I understand your agitation, my friend. These men have strong wills, but their loyalty you will earn on the field. Goodluck, and may Menoth go with you.?

He put a hand up to hers and tapped it to a bowed forehead before turning back to his soldiers, continuing on with their dispositions. The Avatar stomped up to the Harbinger and pointed to the river beyond with his divine shield. A low rumble of anxious steam signaled the wishes of the great machine.

?Let us look to our duty in the Creator?s name; none shall defeat those who have the divine purpose of the creator of mankind as their shield.? The Harbinger finished her statement by withdrawing Providence from its sheath, pointing to the heavens as she made her way to the head of the ranks forming nearby. Calling out in righteous prayer to the soldiers she had marched with of late forming up in columns along the dirt road, there was a rudimentary understanding among her soldiers who kept grim in the face of possible catastrophe that time was of the essence. She could see Gorman and Rhupert among their numbers as Madelyn approached the Harbinger?s side with the Covenant. Anastasia was nowhere to be seen, but this was not a concern the Harbinger held long as certainly she was gathering vital information on the enemy. At least that was the Harbinger?s hope. She arrived at the head of the column, where the paladins were waiting her arrival at the fore of the Flameguard. They bowed as shells slammed into the earth all around.

?Look to this day, my faithful paladins. Menoth has a plan; we must be ready to see it when presented!? With that, the Harbinger lowered Providence towards the river and the column jostled into motion. As the column was moving past the Exemplar positions, large Khadoran bombard shells began to sprinkle across the road and through the fields. There was greater emphasis along the road; the destruction they wrought made the road almost impassable without great difficulty. The bombards cut large swathes of the dirt and mud out of the earth and flung them carelessly in all directions, splattering the bodies of living and dead Menites in proximity. ?Praise Menoth, by your graces you permitted our escape,? the Harbinger whispered silently as she sensed the devastation through her veiled personage. If they had stayed any longer those shells would have fallen amidst her troops in march column, a terrible toll to be sure.

The Testament turned briefly from his men to watch the Harbinger make it safely down the road towards the river. A wave of serenity flowed through him as he saw the flags of her Flameguard pass around the bend. He was directing Exemplar of all sorts in different directions. The plan seemed closer to insanity; no exemplar seemed to think they were being placed correctly. The Testament was willing his men to spread out and ignore the closer formations they were used to. High Exemplar Gravus rode up on his warhorse flanked by a compliment of Vengers. The horses whinnied every now and again as shells continued to rain down all around. It was becoming obvious to the High Exemplar that the Testament?s formations had really begun to limit the barrage?s effectiveness, and he felt a glimmer of hope that this man truly did understand more than just untrained religious fanatics.

The Testament was surveying the ground, and trying to discern where and to what end the enemy would hit his soldiers. His men needed to make the Khadorans pay dearly for every foot, giving their lives to save a larger mass behind. As he raised a hand to his brow, wiping sweat and grime from his forehead with the back of his palm, he also came to realize that he needed merely bend and not break. No Khadorans could get beyond his men into the Harbinger?s flank, which would be a catastrophic event for their army. His brow furrowed as he contemplated the fact he had no reserves. If a hole showed up in his line, there would need to be a way to plug it. What was more, if the Menites did manage to garner an advantage he needed troops to push it and force the enemy backwards. As he turned to seek out Gravus, the Testament nearly ran into his horse as the High Exemplar approached from the rear to seek his council.

The Testament nodded with a mysterious intelligence sparking in his eyes and pointed a finger up the road towards the rear near a small grove of trees. He turned a shoulder to the field of battle, raised a clenched fist and pointed Requiem. Gravus smiled.

?Understood, Testament.? He finished with a bow to the warcaster, wheeled his horse and rode off with the vengers following behind. Suddenly there was a new sound, the sound of steel on steel in the field. The vile Doomreavers had been unleashed and were locked in a mortal melee with a large contingent of Exemplar Errants. Behind the reavers appeared a tide of iron in the form of Juggernauts, Berserkers, Devastators, and men?o?war. They appeared opposite the field from an enormous formation of Iron Fang pikemen. The Khadoran army was much larger than they had been led to believe. How could such a force, seemingly endless, have been moving in Llael without the knowledge of the Harbinger and the Heirarch? He took stock of the tenuous situation which he bore witness to. His men numbered a few hundred and one warjack. The enemy was at least three times that in the field alone, and the warjacks numbered well more in addition. He counted 20, but at least a full dozen were the notoriously unstable Berserkers.

He mentally clamped down on Fire of Salvation, the warjack seemed to welcome his presence within its cortex. He could sense that, at least for the now, the venerable warjack was willing to set aside its animosity to overcome a common enemy. He summoned up his power and filled the metal beast with holy fervor to avenge fallen friends on the field before willing him to enter the fight with the knights currently entangled with the heavy armour. It was a fool?s quest, but without hesitation the warjack let out a vicious howl of steam and bounded across the uneven ground to meet a Juggernaut which had strayed too far ahead of his allies. The brutal killing machine had hacked and slaughtered its way through almost 10 knights exemplar with an unbridled fury and uncanny speed not commonly seen in lumbering Khador machines. The juggernaut was completely unaware of the perilous situation it was now found in, and Fire of Salvation made the brute a pile of scrap in no time, seeming to hardly miss a beat as it entered the fray alongside the faithful.

An Errant seneschal approached the Testament, there were a few bullet holes in his armor and his sword was covered in gore.

?Sir! The Doomreavers are cutting us to pieces. There are also widowmakers within the woods and are making their presence known. We will not be able to hold for long against such a force!? The man?s voice was only slightly panicked, but he remained steadfast in the face of the insurmountable odds they faced. The Testament hefted Oblivion to his shoulder, quickly glancing around the field to ensure things were currently tenable. The bastions and cinerators armor was making a mockery of the pikemen?s spears and were it not for the tide of bodies they would be pushing the enemy back to their mud hovels up north. Closer to the river side of the field, a mixed group of exemplar as well as may seneschals were fighting desperately to contain the tonnage of blood red machines in their midst, Fire of Salvation seemed to be handling his own by their side. ?Smart,? thought the Testament, ?the Khadorans are keeping our men busy and spread out.?

[Harbylove]

“Sir?” The seneschal asked inquisitively. He nodded and pointed to the man’s brother’s in arms and strode towards the center in silent prayer, where the Doomreaver’s blades were ripping apart the faithful.

“It is an honor to fight by your side this day, Testament. “

[Harbylove]

Part 16

The souls of the faithful filled the Testament with a seemingly unending flow of righteous indignation and fury. Every warrior who passed filled him with greater strength even as their bodies turned to ash in the blink of an eye. Not every soldier who fell met the same fate as the Testament reincarnated some of the bodies in an effort to stem the crimson tide which currently besieged the Protectorate soldiers. Vladimir had come in against the bastions and cinerators off on the right, taking his pikemen further and further around the fold to outflank his men. But true to the fearless nature of the Exemplar order, the men held, refusing their flanks with every new push around the outside.

The Testament brought his smoldering heavy mace in an arc, crushing the bodies of 4 Doom Reavers even as he slowly gave up ground. The divine magic he controlled fizzled when directed at the maniacs chained to their Orgoth blades, so he had instead bolstered the nearby Errants by concealing them in an ashen veil. The men paid little heed to the orange runes which glowed around their feet as they continued to spend their lives dearly.

His attention was split; he was constantly assessing Fire of Salvation and keeping tabs on the fight to his left through its eyes. It was going very poorly at the start, for every 5 Knights Exemplar that fell only 2 men’o’war seemed to drop. The heavy armor was proving difficult, but the righteous fury of seeing their comrades fall under the Khadoran onslaught only served to heighten their fervor and it was beginning to swing the tide of battle. Fire of Salvation was fighting admirably, with every death of nearby allies he too grew stronger and more violent. The sanctified machine of war was becoming more responsive to the Testaments wills as he fueled the sanctified machine to greater acts of heroism. However, his chassis was nearly crippled. He was also keenly aware of the multitude of wounds he had personally received in combat.

The center was holding well and the Testament was growing more and more powerful with every Menite who fell. He was almost unstoppable now, and he felt divinity flow through his body as he channeled the fury of Menoth into the enemy. Every now and again he would slip out of the corporeal world and appear close by, suddenly cutting a bloody swathe in his righteous indignation. It was becoming clear to the Testament that the lines would break very soon, they needed to regroup. He waded through the Winter Guard and Doom Reavers nearby and found the seneschal in charge of the errants.

“Sir, we need to pull back. The Khadorans keep coming and our ranks are thinning dangerously!”

The Testament nodded, and turned to where Gravus was lurking in a grove of trees, itching for an opportunity to flay those men who were slaughtering his brothers in arms. He raised a fist and pointed to the right flank, where a large group of Iron Fangs had broken through and were starting to stream down the road behind the Exemplar position. The thundering of hooves and battle cry of almost 40 Vengers rose above the din of battle as they slammed into the Khadorans with grisly results. The advance stymied for a moment, and the time was right for a quick withdrawal.

The Testament grabbed one of the many soul lights floating around him. Holding it out in his palm the Reclaimer traced divine symbols in the air. His entire army felt a tugging, as if their souls were entering the afterlife. The pikes of the Iron Fangs cut through air, passing unobstructed through incorporeal bodies of the Menites as the soldiers of the Protectorate pulled back. The Testament gathered all his strength to keep the gate between Urcaen and Caen open longer than he had ever tried to before, guiding his troops with the souls of their brethren through the gate and out again into reality.

The seneschals quickly reformed their ranks; they had gone far enough for a moment of respite. The lines were reformed and awaited assault. Gravus rode through the ranks singing loudly of Menoth’s favor and instilling his men with a battle rage far beyond that they normally showed, for the situation required them to show neither fear nor mercy. The Testament waved Gravus down and pointed to the field. What they witnessed was sickening to their stomach.

The ground between the Menites and the Khadorans was littered with hundreds of dead Khadorans, and a few Exemplar. Piles of ash were strewn over the ground; marking the second chance those faithful got to serve the creator on Caen before passing. This, however, did not concern them so much as the veritable tide of bodies now moving in on their position. Vladimir was at the fore of hundreds of soldiers. His ancient berserker Drago bounded up the road to be next to its master, his malevolent eye glowing with balefire. The other Khadoran warjacks were moving away, towards the river. That had been their plan all along, and the Testament felt a renewed fury swell in his breast at falling for the trap. At least he had thinned them out, of the 20 originally in conflict only 13 remained in various states of operation. He growled audibly, literally stunning the Exemplar in ear shot who had never heard a peep from the Reclaimer.

This further fueled the anger of the Exemplar as well and they began shouting prayers to the creator to bless them with sternness on this day the likes of which have not been seen on Caen. They prayed for the will and tenacity to crush their enemies. They prayed for victory. The Testament turned to Gravus with a sullen look in his eye, and the High Exemplar immediately understood. The Harbinger must be warned, the Khadorans plan was to keep the Testament busy while the lines shifted. The Testament only had a hundred men still fit for duty, those too wounded to carry on had been, if possible, recovered and taken to the river. Every man still fit for duty was torn up, yet their flesh was renewed with divine fortitude. The Testament himself was bleeding profusely, but the souls of the Exemplar who had fought and died still circled around him, keeping his consciousness intact and body numb to the pain.

The Testament waved Gravus down the road with a salute, which Gravus returned with a new found respect. Blood trailed the ground where the Testament strode, but he gently made his way through the line of Exemplar to the fore. The Khadorans were dressing ranks a mere matter of yards away. He turned to the soldiers who followed him, raised Requiem to the heavens with hatred in his eyes, and charged into the fray once again. With a mighty roar, the Exemplar and Fire of Salvation followed suit with words of praise on their lips speaking to the respect they now held for the Testament of Menoth. They would follow him to the bitter end.