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Captain Needles crouched, hidden in the shade of the trees, with the remainder of the Guard and volunteers. A large number of them were hanging back, weapons drawn, but waiting in the shade, but Needles was up at the edge of the forest, back pressed against a tree, and looked down the ranks. Up there with her was every ranger, warrior, nomad, archer... anyone who could hit a wyvern with a bow.

The bolt of magic rose into the sky. "Ready your bows," Needles hissed softly, drawing an arrow from her own quiver, and nocked it against the drawstring of her longbow. The order ran down the rows, and there was a great quiet shuffling as arrows were readied.

She growled through her teeth as she spotted the smug little fair-haired b*****d stringing his bow. "Oh, you'll get your interesting, boy," she hissed, listening keenly to Deborah's shouts with the helmeted main leading the wyvern-riding legion. "Ready and take aim!" she called down the line, slipping out from behind the tree, remaining in shadow, and slowly beginning to draw her bow, as all down the line, her comrades did the same.

And they stood.

And they waited.

They watched the rising arc of that javelin, and suddenly from the woods came a single bolt, shot from a longbow, which whistled through the air and planted itself, with deadly precision, in a wyvern's eye.

And then a shower of a hundred arrows arced through the sky as Needles shouted, "Fire at will!"

LANCELOT

Whatever circle of Hell the woman came from, whatever realm of the supernatural she crawled from, none of it made a difference; her strength and skill were simply inhuman. Even as he approached her, his eyes more focused on the farming wench than the general herself, it became blatantly apparent that he never should have shifted his focus. By the time Lancelot had looked back, the woman was already in the air, her powerful legs propelling her skyward as her throwing arm snapped forward.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Lancelot felt his heart skip a beat as he dug his right heel into Mordred's side, causing his mount to shriek as she moved into a sudden turn; a move that had come too late. Though he felt his body jerk to the right- causing the spear's flight to divert from what was once a sure shot to his heart- he let out a hoarse, incoherent roar of pain as Deborah's javelin slammed into his left shoulder. Punching through the thinner armor that lined the joint between his shoulder guards and his breastplate, the wyvern general felt his muscles tear as the javelin smashed through his body. Stopping only after the spearhead had emerged from the back of his armor, hidden from view by the crimson cape he wore, the javelin shook and quivered visibly from the shoulder it had wrenched back. At the sound of his scream, his mount suddenly turned away from Deborah, completing her turn and flying away from the front lines.

For a moment, shock dulled the pain- Lancelot merely gaped in disbelief at the sudden, traumatic injury, and dared not move. The wound itself was almost obscene, with the javelin quivering and shaking in the wind even as he felt every tremor move inside torn muscles and within his shattered scapula. Had Mordred not turned and backed away to anticipate healing at the back lines, he too would have fallen to the hail of arrows that suddenly darkened the sky- he heard their whistles, and barely turned his head in time to see his men dropping like flies.

The archers were fierce and accurate- there would be no saving them, now. The wyverns in the trees were the hardest to hit, but even they were no match for the hail of deadly steel that rained upon them. The once laughing, mocking roars of a victorious army quickly descended into the hoarse, shrieking wails of the damned as men found themselves pierced by multiple arrows. Had the archers been novices, things might have turned out for the better, and they might have counted on a few survivors- but they knew where to aim. The faces, the necks, the throats, and the hands of the men were punched through with steel-tipped arrows, while the wyverns shrieked as arrows pierced their eyes and wings. There was no time for them to aim a kamikaze descent- the assault had come on too quickly.

Not one by one, but by droves, the wyvern forces were mowed down, falling from the sky like scaled meteors as their riders also fell uselessly to the ground. Most died before they knew the assault was upon them- others threw their weapons and made to flee, only to be felled by skilled archers that struck at the wyverns' wings.

Only two beasts made it to the ground alive, still snapping and lashing their tails in fury at the loss of their riders. One rushed forward to lunge aggressively at Nephenee- another aimed to strike Deborah with its powerful tail. Both attacked were drenched in desperation- with broken wings and bloody maws, it was clear that neither would survive, even if they killed their intended prey.

"My brigade-- damn it, no! Mordred, turn back!"

Despite the yells of her master and the kicks he delivered to her sides, Mordred refused to turn back and head back into the fray. With a dizziness that grew with every kick and exertion he tried to make, it wasn't until he slumped forward in the saddle that he realized how futile it was to go back. His entire torso was hot and soaked with perspiration and blood- every heave of his chest and beat of his heart increased that sticky flow as the javelin twitched with his every breath. He could feel his body shake uncontrollably, and it was all he could to to lean forward and cling pathetically to her neck with one hand as he saw his vision blur and feel his world slowly growing cold.

Without adrenaline, the reality and pain was beginning to set in...

The loss of his brigade most likely wouldn't hit until later.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a name rose to the surface- perhaps the one that Mordred was flying to. Only one person would give enough fo a damn to save his sorry a** now.

Beatrix, you'd better be where you said you'd be...

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Deborah could only smile, as the arrows raced from the trees. The enemy fell for her plan, easily. Now, yverns feel from the sky, trying to take out the Learanian infantry, with their last breath. A few soldiers did, in fact, get hit, too. It was inevitable that there would be losses on both sides. That is why Deborah only requested volunteers. There was no guarantee of survival, or that the plan would work. It was fortunate that Deborah had been able to read the enemy well.

Deborah herself, was not out of danger yet, though. She had managed to avoid the dropped cargo, but now wyverns were falling. It almost seemed that the riders were maneuvering their beasts of flight in a way that would be most effective for damage; not the way regular wyvern riders would react, when crashing. It was obvious that the leader had trained his men for such things.

With no time to see if her attack had hit, Deborah immediately took to evasive action. This time she did have to do a barrel roll, as a wyvern zoomed passed. As she swiftly rolled out and back on to her feet, she stumbled a few steps, but only so that she would not pause. It was not safe or wise to stand in one place for more than a second; not that it could be helped all of the time.

Caught up in the moment, Deborah did not see that she was close to another soldier. When she was suddenly rammed, it took her by complete surprise. She let out a shocked cry of pain, as she was knocked forward. Her body twisted and she landed on her side, then rolled a little. When she looked up at what had happened, she saw a wyvern laying where she would have been. By the wyvern was the one who most likely hit her, and he had slain the beast.

Deborah got up, and looked over to the side, and saw her spear that she had dropped, when she was hit. She growled to herself, then went over and snatched it up. She then stomped over to where the man was and saw the rider of the beast trying to crawl away. Deborah sneered, turned her spear so that the head was facing the ground, then slammed the tip down into the rider's back. Once the foe was certainly dead, Deborah pulled out the spear, then looked over at the man who had hit her. By his behavior, it seemed that he was drunk or something. "...Tank you. Don' do it again." She gave him a glare then walked away.

The wyverns had stopped falling, and the survivors were creeping out from the piles of dead. The injured were being helped, and moved away, already, as was instinct. The archers in the forest were beginning to come out, as well. As Deborah looked around, it seemed that between one fourth and one half of the volunteers were still alive and able to move around. The others were either injured or dead. When she turned to look in the sky, she could see one small speck, growing smaller and smaller. The leader had managed to escape, but at least his army was now gone.

A soldier then came up to Deborah, the same one that had been coming up to her, and who had delivered the message to Needles. "Captain Deborah! We did it! Congratulations!"

The captain turned to her subordinate. "How are deh oters doin'? Where are teh civilians?"

"They are mostly all evacuated, ma'am. They are being brought to our camp, so that we may escort them to the capital."

Deborah gave a slight sigh of relief. "Good." In the chance that something had gone wrong with the battle plan, Deborah had thought up something so that at least the villagers could be safe. As she took the small group out to face the enemy, the rest of the infantry who were not archers traveled outward, in a long loop, toward the villages. While the battle had been going on, they were at work, getting the villagers out. Even if Learania had lost, the Estarcians would have been safe. "Get dem all ready tah make for teh capital. We will leave once dey all arrive." Deborah looked away from the soldier and called out to everyone else. "All dose who want tah come wit me, we be going tah look over deh villages once befowah we dehpart!" She turned back to the one soldier. "I'll be back befowah yah ready tah leave. Make sure owah wounded can be moved."

The halberdier began to walk forward. "If ya comin', follow me now!" Though most stayed to help their injured comrades, about three soldiers ventured out after their captain, and were on their way to the villages.

The Tempest King

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Step, Step, Pivot, Duck, Turn, Step, Step

It was like dancing, course if you messed up you'd get a crate or arrow in-between the eyes.

Step, Step, Pivot, Duck, Turn, Step, Step

Joshua could tell he wasn't going to do much good in this fight, for one everything was out of his reach what with them being flyers and him being firmly rooted to the ground, secondly the ones that did land on the ground were all dead and you can’t kill what’s already dead. Didn't stop him from having pulled his sword a while ago, better safe then sorry in a battle unneeded risks could get you killed.

Step, Step, Pivot, Duck, Turn, Step, Step

Oh, what was this now? That teal haired girl was doing her own dance, she was the one he'd fleeced. Well her luck on the battlefield seemed about as good as her luck at cards, and there she dropped her lance, if she didn't start paying attenti---

"Whoops lost the rhythm there!" Joshua thought as a bleeding man with an arrow in his throat landed in front of him, dangerously close. That could have cost him his life, perhaps he should worry about his own movements rather then someone else’s.

Step, Step, Pivot, Duck, Turn, Step, Step

Joshua danced his way through the reign of death and arrows closer to the lancer, and soon found that he had made the right choice, a wyvern that wasn't quite dead had gotten it's feet under it and was rushing at Nephenee. Luckily Joshua was there, quickly stepping up beside the wyvern which was now in the process of sticking out its neck in order to bite Nephenee, the blood in its eye or maybe just plain rage had caused it to not notice anything but its intended target and so Joshua's blade managed to slice cleanly through its neck, momentum brought the head straight down which probably rolled into Nephenee's boots while Joshua had to take a few jogging steps back to avoid being hit by the body.

And just as quickly as it had started the fight was over, the swordmaster had managed to get one kill, not a very good kill considering that the beast had been half dead but still, a kill was a kill.

He looked over the wyvern to smile at Nephenee before he bent down to wipe his sword on the grass, "Well I’d say we got lucky there, wouldn’t you?"

"All dose who want tah come wit me, we be going tah look over deh villages once befowah we dehpart!" The call rang out.

Now that he had a taste for the fight the gambler didn't want to leave just yet. It would be like folding after seeing you had a good hand, so Joshua started walking after Deborah pausing only to turn back to Nephenee, "Hey, I wanna go with them. Maybe when we get back to the capitol we could do something?" He asked her. Why not, he was feeling lucky today. Without bothering to get an answer (He'd get one later) he jogged after the Captain's receding back.

He was momentarily startled by the sight of the wolf from earlier and even more surprised by the fact that it could talk, maybe it was a Laguz. Not that he'd ever heard of a Wolf Laguz, nor did he know that they could talk in the animal form.

Oh joy, it was on their side... still he was going to keep an eye on him, Joshua had seen wolfish smiles like that before... ok in this case it was literally wolfish. But you get the point.


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(( The powers that be asked nicely for a tying of loose ends, so here it is. ))

Ezekiel was hating every single turn of events he'd recently encountered. He was hating it all completely, utterly, thoroughly, with every fiber of his being. If hate could kill, the world would surely have collapsed in on itself by now. Not only had he made a fool of himself losing in that siege, he'd made an absolute fool of himself. He'd failed to kill any commanding officers, he'd lost countless incompetent troops, and his castle, as much as he hated it, still put a damper on his mood with its destruction. To make things worse, when he was clever enough to get the enemy to not kill him, they threw him with the commander of the flying rat brigade.

There was a reason he hated them, atop the pile of seething rage he carried for all that was around him, after all. Only minutes after his escort had taken off, Ezekiel lost all control over his body, especially his stomach. So, he took to profusely vomiting a torrent of putrid slop until his escort was gracious enough to land in a remote corner of those mountains. It left the Sniper unable to participate in battle against his countrymen, and it left his escort unable to properly maneuver because the armor was partially flooded by vomit. Not to mention the smell that, coupled with the corpses nearby, put them both far, far past vomiting.

His day was only getting worse. On top of vomiting up a small pond alongside his escort, he was soon joined by a pair of the flying rat riders who were managing that pile of corpses. A trio of queasy soldiers and a traitor that was nearly projectile vomiting led to absolutely glorious images, if one tried to think of them. So again, Ezekiel was out of commission for yet another battle. And they didn't know how far away Lancelot was. They could catch up... right?

Well, it wasn't too big a deal. His allies were so exhausted that they removed their armor. Not like it would matter, it all smelled like vomit no matter what. So, it left Ezekiel in a position where he could do what he does best: a*****e things. Taking advantage of their lack of armor, Ezekiel was able to wander a short distance away to "get some air" and get the drop on the three soldiers. Throw a few mines from a distance, and watch the fools run about like headless chickens. Of course, the hellish winged rats could be taken care of with simple shots with his crossbow. And of course, if he ever came under suspicion of killing them, there were lots of archers in Estarcia. Maybe they got "ambushed" or something.

Still, if Lancelot's survival rate was indicative of their success, they wouldn't survive. Ezekiel, of course, refused to be on the losing side of this war. And he knew for a fact that the other lords of Estarcia were much more combat-capable than he was. That, and they had actual defenses, not a dilapidated fort. So, the man went off on a solitary trek backwards, heading directly towards Vajeh. If luck was on his side, not that it ever was, maybe his underlings had no knowledge of his little "defection". If they did, he could likely play it off somehow...

(( Loose end tied up, yep yep! :3 ))

The Tempest King

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The swordmaster's face drooped as Deborah silenced the group, he'd been walking a coin he'd found laying on the ground across his knuckles as he searched which wasquickly pocketed as the captain looked out past the field of corpses. That wasn't good, more fleeing enemies’ maybe? Soon Deborah came back and proved his guess woefully wrong, not fleeing enemies this time, but an entire army.

"Is my luck seriously this bad?" He said disbelievingly. He’d wanted a fight yes, but not one they obviously couldn’t win!

Swiftly the captain gave a set of orders stopping to include a dirty look at Joshua, (It was as if she didn't trust him or something.) with a nod of his head Joshua jogged into the alleyway opposite of where Deborah had hidden herself, a door set in the wall caught his eye and he gave it a quick push finding it thankfully unlocked. Closing and sliding the latch into place behind him, the swordmaster realized that he had just found the local blacksmith's. Most of the weapons and armour had already been looted and what was left was for the most part broken or otherwise unusable, besides he didn't have time to look around he needed to hide, and fast. The door he'd taken had been a side door to behind a thick wood counter where the smith probably did his business, he quickly ducked down behind it and sat with his back to it, looking to his left he saw a flight of stairs that led up to who knows where. Since he'd been ordered not to fight unless as a last option Joshua decided that he could dart upstairs as an emergency resort to avoid being seen if someone got too nosy, sliding over a bit while making sure to stay hidden behind the counter incase the enemy had already entered the village he positioned himself so that if someone came inside the main door which might be unlocked, he could sneak upstairs quietly.

Now all he had to do was wait, and hope luck was on his side. For once let luck be on his side, the desert had proved to be a bad start for him, this time he’d do better.

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Deborah's group finished with another village, and finally was on the last one. Not much had been found that was of any value, and so far nobody was found. A mere coin for the red-headed swordsman, a vulnerary for the wolf, and a new lance, surprising in good shape, for one of the soldiers was about all that was uncovered. Thankfully, it didn't look like anybody had been left behind.

However, as the group entered into the last village, a woman suddenly came up to them. "Help me! You're the Learanians, right? Please, I can't find my son! I won't leave him here!" she cried in desperation. Deborah looked at her soldiers and then back at the woman. She wanted to get out of here, but this was why they had come to look around in the first place. After a sigh, she nodded her head and gave the order to fan out into the village and search for the boy. They could not just abandon the plea.

The few soldiers that came with Deborah began to quickly move about, searching the houses and anything else a small boy could fit in. Deborah herself traveled down the street, watching her men. She paid no mind to the guild members, who she had no real obligations for. When she reached about halfway, she paused and concentrated. Unable to obtain whatever it was she needed, she let a harsh shush to everyone. They instantaneously silenced themselves, if they knew what was good for them. There was a moment of eerie silence, as Deborah began to look around, as if she heard something. Soon enough, the sound became loud enough for others to hear, but still wasn't clear enough to make out, even for the Kaftian. However, it was clear that it was coming from the south-west, outside of the lakeside village area. With curiosity and paranoia both giving an order to the brain for action, Deborah moved to where she could see out into the field. She quickly found out what the noise was.

Coming into sight was a large army, with blue armor, that wielded a throat sinking banner. "What dah-?!" A look of borderline horror crashed onto Deborah's face. "Dere was anoter army so close by? How extensive is dis enemy...? Damn!" She had a very justifiable reason to be upset. The army looked very big, as if it had received very few losses, if any at all. A low growl of frustration escaped Deborah, as she muttered quietly to herself. "...We cannot beat an army o' dat size, wit what we have- even wit deh volley tactic. Needles... I hope ya saw dem comin' and hid everyone. Gettin' into anoter battle would result in death for ya all..."

As Deborah continued to watch the newly arrived and unwelcome army, she saw what looked to be the leader. He was far away, and thus his appearance could not be made out, aside from thick blue armor and a large axe. But the soldiers reacted to his movements and moved around him, as he stayed put. That alone signified that he was giving orders. And with those orders, a group of soldiers suddenly started out toward the villages. "Damn, I figured dey'd investigate. Dere's only an entire field o' dere dead companions!" Deborah turned to the others, and ran over to them. "Deh enemy's here- a huge new army! So far, no conflict, so Needles must have gotten out o' sight in time. But some o' dem are comin' here, so get yaselves hidden, and be ready ta defend yaself!" Deborah grabbed her wooden tribal lance, and started to move, but stopped. "Don't fight unless ya have ta! Deh last ting we need is for missin' scouts ta make deh main army suspicious, or ta get in a whole new battle." She glanced over at Joshua, with vicious eyes. "I mean it." She glared at him for a couple more seconds before waving her arm for them all to go hide. She made sure that one of the soldiers looked after the woman that was with them, then followed her own order, and hid herself. She very quickly found herself at home in an alleyway, sunken out of sight in the dark crevices of a building.

A low boom resonated from above. Deborah looked up and saw the darkness of clouds heading toward them. The sun was already beginning to be blocked out. A storm would soon be upon them, hindering escape- that is, if they managed to.

A man whom can conquer his fear can strive to conquer the world.

Augustus was going to make the sweep of the villages a fast one. His General didn’t need any delays when it came to meeting with Antonio in Altiplos. The regrouping of forces and all the little checks that came along with making a strategy run smoothly were just as essential as well-trained soldiers. Military officers just had to know if what path they were marching on was leading them to either victory or defeat. If they were going the way that would lead to glory, they would just keep going the same direction, but if a crushing blow was making its way towards the Legion, they would have to change course.

Giving signals, Augustus split his troop in two. Part of them was searching the east side of the villages, and the other part, the west, careful not to alert anyone smart enough to spring a trap. Traps could be set up by anyone if they had the right tools: it didn’t take much common sense at all for one human to figure out how to injure another. From the reports thus far, the Estarcians were not to be written off as minor threats, either. Caution was of the utmost importance, as well as keeping as good of reputation as possible. No one was given the orders to attack, not by the General or Augustus. As far as they knew, the battles were already done here and both sides left behind the ruins of war. Combing through for a lost comrade didn’t hurt, however.

Augustus learned to be polite at a young age, as rudeness got a person nowhere fast. Sure, he was part of his General’s great invading force, but he wasn’t going to mock civilians while he questioned them. However, no matter what houses his troop searched, he found all but a few silent civilians present. None of them would give information, because they were too terrified (and had a right to be) in order to speak to any more strange people walking around in armor. It would be a disappointment to report to Caesar that Lancelot couldn’t be found, despite the Legion’s best efforts at the moment. Either he was hiding well, or he moved on before the storm could reach him.