Snippet #2670856

Be calm,wait for the signal.

This was the thought that passed through the young man's head. One foot in front of another, he just needed to focus on that for now. Not for the seething hatred he felt for the man leading this group of murderers. There was certainly plenty to think about on the subject of walking. The young man had never worn a set of full plate before. The armor of the Elfenslaga had to weigh nearly seventy-five pounds. It had a few more articulating pieces than that of other knights. The underarmor was completely hidden behind various overlapping plates attached to the sculpted cuirass and pauldrons. The slanted nature of the armor sacrificed some of the advantages of conventional design to protect from the arrows and magic it was believed the Fae employed.

One foot in front of the other. The overgrown bog they seemed to be wading through didn't make it much better. The young man looked ahead to another, just in front of him. He couldn't see his mentor's face at the moment, as it was covered by a helmet. It was difficult to see anything at all through the slot in his own visor. He wasn't used to this. He set his jaw, determined all the more to perform. His gambeson itched. This group of Elfenslaga had been marching for three days. Who knows when the last time the man this armor had belonged to had bathed.

There seemed to be a murmur heading down the group of knights. It reached the man in front of him, then he turned to hiss at the young man in the back.

"Hold up." He growled low.
"We're stopping? Have we run into Fae?" He whispered back urgently.
"No idea, Griffin seems agitated. Stay calm, Roland." Was the reply, as his mentor turned back to face towards the front. Roland craned his neck as much as he could, trying to see up towards the front. They'd followed this group of Elfenslaga for three days, and had now been a part of their ranks for one. They had been steadily creeping towards the mysterious borderlands, where the Fae's kingdom was thought to begin.

Towards the front, Sir Griffin scanned the trees surrounding them. He wore no helmet, boldly marching into enemy territory without fear of injury or death. Griffin knew the Creator was on his side, and that no matter what happened, he would emerge victorious. He knew no fear, no remorse, for he was righteous. He stared out, seeing beyond, the gears in his mind turning. His arms tingled with anticipation, and his gut was calling out a warning. These were signs he'd learned to heed in conflict. The sixth sense of a warrior was nothing to be scoffed at. It was instinct, survival. Then, he saw it. Movement. It was swift, barely discernable. A man who had never seen it before would have been unable to catch it.

"Form up! Sentinel formation!"

Roland and his mentor watched as the armored knights of the Elfenslaga kicked into action. They sloshed to their leader, forming a tight skirmish line, raising their shields. Then, one man rotated to the rear of their partner. Their bills pointed slightly outwards, the long thrusting spike at the end glistening slightly in what sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of trees. Roland and his mentor then assumed the position themselves, going back to back and hefting the polearms. The bill was the preferred weapon of the Elfenslaga knights. Skilled in the weapon's use, they could hook even the swiftest and flightiest Fae and drag them to the ground, if the Fae were not careful. One hooked, it was easy to impale or chop them up. Roland shivered at the thought.

"Sir Thomas, we aren't going to let them fight, are we?" Roland hissed urgently.
"There's just the two of us, Roland. It is imperative we don't make our move too early." Thomas whispered back.

Then, it happened. It was as if wind passed them by gently. Roland wasn't quite sure what had happened, but he'd seen something. One of the knights staggered, his shield ringing out as if it had been struck hard. Quickly, he regained his position. They were distracted now, and the killing was going to begin soon.

"Are you ready, Roland? Ready to take a man's life?" Sir Thomas growled.
"As ready as anyone can be..." Roland replied, slightly uncertain. He didn't take the idea of killing lightly, even though he knew this time would come. There was no negotiating with the King's inquisition. Sir Thomas removed his helmet, taking a deep breath. Roland followed suit, almost wanting to sigh in relief as the cool air hit his sweaty forehead. That helmet had been so stuffy...

"Now." Sir Thomas went into action first, swinging the polearm around and hooking the neck of the knight next to him. He yanked the shocked man violently to the ground via his head, and Roland swallowed hard as he leapt at the man's partner. He thrust the spike of the bill at his unprotected underarm, but the knight was quick enough to raise his shield. Roland's arms shook with the jarring of the impact, the spike skidding off the shield and sliding upwards. Thinking quickly, he hooked the bill behind the shield and yanked down. He saw only the flash of sunlight reflecting off the spike of the Knight's own bill as it suddenly thrust towards his face.

Roland ducked to the side just barely in time, feeling cold steel scrape across his cheek, leaving a tiny furrow that burned hot.Roland thrust his bill upwards on instinct, putting all his power behind it. The spike punched through the thin plate covering the knight's throat, piercing his neck. He gurgled, thrusting his weapon at Roland again in desperation. Roland yanked the bill free, blooding pouring from under the knight's armor. The knight clutched at his throat, his shield and weapon forgotten as he realized death was upon him. Roland gaped, mouth slightly open as he watched the man die. He did that. He didn't know what it would be like.

"Roland!" Sir Thomas roared, having flipped up the visor of his own foe and buried his dagger through his eye socket. Roland turned slowly to look at his mentor, and saw him pointing. Roland turned, and saw Griffin himself marching towards him, fire in his eyes. He seemed immune to fear, to the danger. Even as it became more apparent the Fae were on the attack.

"Traitorous heretics!" he roared, piercing Roland's horrified reverie. He dropped his bill, drawing the sword at his side. He was more familiar with this weapon, its reassuring weight in his hand making him feel a bit more confident. Not by much, however. Sir Thomas was by his side suddenly, the point of his bill at Griffin's chest, forcing him to back up and re-engage.

"For the Joined Blade! We cannot allow this brazen incursion into the Fae's lands!" Sir Thomas yelled, his voice echoing through the chaos.

"For the Joined Blade! We stand with the Fae, for they are of the same life as we!" Roland growled, feeling braver as he broadcast his convictions.

"I am the instrument of the Creator's justice. You will fall before me." Sir Griffin stated simply, dropping the bill and drawing his own blade. "FOCUS ON THE FAE! DON'T LOWER YOUR SHIELDS!" He roared back to his men.