Fiction:Blood On The Snow

Battle of Orlembrook
December, 29 NA

The village of Orlembrook was a setlement nestled in the plains on the northern edge of the barony of Redshire, a small territory of the. Winter had fallen upon the small farming community. After reports of raids o nthe outlying farms nearby Redhelm had dispatched reinforcements to protect it. Among these reinforcements was, the baron of Redshire. One day, while Marcos' troops were staying in the village, the village had come under siege by cult forces. Local militia - woodsmen, farmers and landowners alike - had taken up arms and stood on platforms behind the village palisade. The defending army was a mix - Militia weraing leather and simple tunics brushed shoulders with Redhelm soldiers clad inchainmail and wearing thick woolen tunics emblazoned with the emblam of House Ridgewood. Snow was falling this winter, and the land was bitterly cold. Raching negativie temperatures. Although citizens of Redshire were hardy, many wore thick wool tunics and fur cloaks.

The offending army wore fur upon their armoured pieces, or at least some of the soldiers did. Others wore minimal armour, enduring or even enjoying the sheer cold that bit and mauled at their bodies. Their twisted, mutated forms made each indivdual soldier all that more terrifying. Their faces were contorted and twisted into scowls or wide grins. Their weapons consisted of serrated blades, already bloodied by the looks of things, as well as their teeth and tongues. Most had just turned up from a meal, either preying upon weaker units or the soldiers of the defending army.

On the palisade a sergeant drew his sword and held it high. As the army closed in he sent it downwards, indicating for the archers to fire. The resulting order sent a swarm of needle-like arrows into the enemy army while another sergeant called for a unit to launch fire-arrows into the enemy army, setting alight any caught in the arrows' paths. As the arrows hit, blood poured onto the snow as cultists found their flesh penetrated and scorched by the ranged assault, although none fell. Instead, they ripped the arrows from their flesh and allowed blood to pour as they made their charge, with units at the back firing their crossbows at the defenders. While not lit alight with fire, there was definitely something strange about them; they seemed to radiate with some form of energy, but something told the soldiers it wasn't Source. The crossbow bolts pierced the armour of even the professional Redhelm soldiers and militia fell easily, falling off the paltforms behind the palisade and bloodying the snow and dirt the landed on. As the battle raged between the two armies of archers. Marcos, who had been visiting this day and clad in a thick fur cloak and wearing an impresssive set of armour made from iron plates looked out from a balcony on the village hall. SOmewhat ennerved by the impending army.

The Zazanite Cult ran forward, roaring and yelling out in some bizarre, undecipherable language as they ran their charge. Taking up the rear were more intimidating-looking figures who powered through the shorter soldiers with ferocity and mercilessness; Pathosses soldiers found the cold no hindrance to them.

Sergeant - These beasts shrug off our arrows and now bring bigger beasts... Marcos - Have spearmen ready at the gates.

Some of the surviving milita stood petrified, one fired his bow to target a Pathosses in the eye. The Pathosses in question grunted and bared its terrifying jaws, although it did not bother to remove the arrow as it charged further, faster. The Cides soldiers could see the gates in their sights, readying their own spears. Little did the infantry know that the Cides' weapons of choice were spears, both for melee and ranged combat.

Spear sergeant - ''Hold! Ready weapons!''

On his order, the spearmen lowered their weapons, creating a jagged, razor-sharp wall of wood and iron just behind the palisade doors. The snow began to fall more as the battle was about to each its bloodiest. The Cides burst though the barricade and upon noticing the wall of spear tips glaring at them, the Cides laughed as they raised their arms and launched the spears from their hands, throwing them at the defending spearmen who challenged them. The Pathosses units were also approaching ever close, war hammers and axes in hand. As the spear line fell, Marcos turned away from the balcony and headed out of the twon hall, flanked by Redshire's most elite soldiers. he branished a greatsword of dwarven make, etched with runic knots in the balde. Inspired by the apprach of their commander, the Redhelm soldiers grew confident and lunged their spears at the line of Cides. Making battlecries of "For Redhelm! For the Grand King!"

The spears proved effective to some extent; Cides soldiers fell as the spears pierced through their skin and masks, which were fused to their deformed faces. Their blood filled the air and dirtied the snow around them, with their corpses being picked up and bitten out of by other Cides for some twisted reason. The Pathosses watched the Cides fall and prepared their weapons.

Marcos - Slaughter these anmials!

Marcos cried out as he paced up and so did his elites, they charged into a line of cides, iron swords and maces glinting in the winter sun. Cides were chopped down like wheat by Marcos and his elite squad of warriors, their flesh no match for the iron weaponry that were wielded with such courage and skill. And their corrupted blood spilled on the floor However, the Pathosses did not halt, they did not fear for they had no knowledge of it. Marcos could only watch as one elite soldier was crushed into a red iron-mixed stain by a Pathosses warrior wielding a war hammer. Marcos turned in horror as the soldier was split in two. A man honed to the pinnacle of skill had been crushed into paste by the massive hammer. Marcos watched hesitantly, before a fury sparked in his eyes and he ran towards the Pathosses, seething and ready to cleave at the monstrous creature.

The Pathosses did not notice the human making his way towards it and so ignored him, chopping down more soldiers with a grin upon its face and slamming down warriors with its forelegs, crushing them beneath its feet. In its mouth, the corpse of a human spearman. Marcos paced foreward as the screams of his men were drowned out. He readied his blade and plunged it into the leg of the creature as it came down on another soldier. He grunted as he drove the sword in. The Pathosses roared out and found its leg pouring with its own blood. An air of agitation came over it as threw its mighty, muscular arm towards Marcos in an effort to drive him away from it. The beast was hurt, but it didn't falter, it was only angered and the resulting force hit Marcos and threw him back, he found himself hitting a house in the village square He pulled his blade with him and blood was now gushing from the wound.

After he hit the houce he mounced off and landed in the snow, Marcos coughed heavily as he stood up, Shaken from the impact. The Pathosses charged towards him, smacking soldiers - both allies and enemies out of its way towards Marcos with its battle hammer grasped tightly within its hand. It made deep imprints in the snow as it ran forward, with the speed of a horse packed behind its charge. Marcos looked up and saw the creature charging, he unclipped his cloak and rolled sideways as the Pathosses was about to trample him, he picked up his sword and lifted it in an attempt to create another gash in its legs. The creature felt the blade's tip penetrate through its foreleg and hindleg, spilling its corrupted blood onto the ground. The Pathosses in its charge had completely demolished the house in its rage and trampled around in frustration before turning itself around and glaring at Marcos.

Pathosses - You may not be an Elf, but you are still dirt! Marcos - So you creatures talk. Pathosses - We are not as primitive as you monkeys!

Marcos smirked and ran towards the Pathosses. He slid under and swung his sword to slice at its underside.

Marcos - Evolved or not, I don't take kindly to monsters knocking down my peoples' homes!

The Pathosses allowed the blade to slash its underside, but the damage it had done was minimal and was only a flesh wound. The Pathosses then began to trample the ground, hoping to strike and hit Marcos beneath itself, stamping wildly like an aggressive, heavy and muscular deer. The close vicinity of the feet shook the ground and Marcos inadvertantly felt his leg end up under one of the feet. He bellowed in pain as the leg, armour included, was pulverised beneath the creature's foot. Marcos lifted the leg as the foot came down again. Using what strength he could to leap from under the Pathosses foot. He bared his teeth in pain as he looked at the onstrosity before him. The Pathosses glared down at the human at his feet and allowed its fangs to show as it reached down, grasping Marcos' collar and lifting him from the ground to get a good look at him, face-to-face. Marcos had his hands wrapped around the Pathosses' fingers, his working leg flailed aimlessly as he struggled to free himself. The Pathosses looked at him with an expression of disgust.

Pathosses - Your face makes me sick, I should place a mask upon it and allow you to become one of the pathetic weakling Cides. Marcos grunted - I could say the same...about your mug! Pathosses - You'd better watch your tongue before something unfortunate happens to it, monkey.

Marcos let go of one of the Pathosses' fingers and attempted to reach for a knife strapped to his belt. The Pathosses grinned and passed its massive tongue over Marcos' face. He could feel all the bumps slither across his flesh like a tentacle before the Pathosses withdrew the tongue back into its jaws. The Pathosses, upon returning the tongue appeared to smile.

Marcos - ''Urgh...How pleasant... Pathosses - ''Your taste differs from Elves, but it's similar, strikingly similar. I enjoy a nice, warm Elvish corpse wrapped between my jaws, still twitching from being freshly killed. Or struggling within the last inches of its worthless existence as my fangs press into its torso and pierce its lungs.''

Siezing his chance, Marcos grabbed the knife handle tightly and slowly drew it out.

Marcos - I don't hear such a compliment that often... Pathosses - Hmph, how do you feel knowing that you will become little more than the shit that the Edacitas eat once I have digested you and crapped you out again? Marcos - I feel a little at ease...thanks to this.

With a swift motion, Marcos plunged the knife firmly into the Pathosses' hand. Surprisingly, it didn't bat an eye to the attack, a look of indifference upon its face despite the small amount of blood that escaped the wound. The Pathosses' glare simply stayed at Marcos' face, who looked at the Pathosses with shock.

Pathosses - You are not even worth becoming dog shit.

Marcos gulped as he let go of the knife. The Pathosses threw his arm to the side, throwing Marcos into a group of Cide soldiers who took a firm hold of him, overpowering him. The Pathosses looked towards the Cides with a grin beginning to form once more.

Pathosses - Take him to the cages, return him back to the settlement.

Marcos struggled to get out of the Cides grip in vain. He watched as the cultists summarily dismantled the settlement. The screams of the damned being burned into his mind. Before Marcos' eyes, he was forced to watch as women and children were dragged from their homes and into the cold snow, stripped of their clothing and any protection they had gathered before being forcefully eaten alive by Cides and Pathosses warriors, tearing out their innards with their wretched hands or shredding them out with their teeth, which were similar to knives in design and size. The victims even watched their own guts get dragged out of their bodies and torn apart. Marcos desperately wanted to do something. But stuck in his cage he was helpless, The final sight of his home was one of mayhem and death. He slumped in his cage and hummed to himself ,as if patiently awaiting oblivion. He was trapped within an iron cage, filled with twitching and struggling humans and Elves that were crowded upon one another. They were filthy and hadn't been washed for weeks, as well as severely injured beforehand. Among them were children and elders.