Kalad Ashchrom's Story

Ashchrom Manor was all but deserted now that the war had really hit home. Often Kalad found that he was the only person in the family home, aside from the odd servant here or there which had been asked to stay behind and make sure the heat mage actually ate something rather than spend all of his days and nights crating new runes. Like the rest of the Ashchrom family, he was doing his part, crating metalworks and runes and whatever else was asked of him to aid with the defenses of the city. But, having also been asked to take up the call of the king, he had been working on something for himself as well. A suit of armor, covered in rune etching which would allow him to channel his fire magic through the metal plates. He had just finished up the last rune on the chest plate when the daily servant came running up, urging him to pack his things and set off for the castle. "It's nearly time for the assembly!" The man urges.

Looking longingly over at the helmet he was just about to begin work on, Kalad picks up the armor and slings it on, the metal being made of a light but sturdy and strong alloy created by his father, which would be able to handle his heat magic as well as incoming arrows and the clash of swords. With the chest plate he puts on a tasset made of the same material, and then a pair of long gloves made of leather but with plate armored attached over the surface, allowing a freedom of movements to the hands.

"Alright, wish me luck!" Kalad says to the servant before rushing out the rood with his things in tow.

Some time later and Kalad arrives at the inner wall which guards the palace of the royal family, the place where, inside, even now, warriors from every walk of life were gathering together, hoping to be chosen by the king to help save the kingdom. Looking around the streets as he moves closer to the wall Kalad can see a flurry of activity. People are running from building to building, some of them gather arrows, others gather pieces of armor or sword. Still more people are rushing around with broken swords and pieces of armor, bringing them in to be recycled into new weapons of war. He was sure his father was out there somewhere, maybe not on the front line, but using his magic to do whatever was asked of him by his king. An image enters his mind, one from a mural that hangs in the halls of Ashchrom Manor, one of his father, the great forgemage, one foot set atop an anvil, a warhammer in his left hand, resting on his shoulder, his right hand engulfed in blue flames. Shaking his head to remove the image, to clear his mind and set himself forward, he moves through the courtyard of the inner wall and closer to the gathering. He stands in awe, looking around, taking an offered mug of mead from a passing man.

As the Stargazers finished the last of the placements, the eldest among them called for the doors to be shut and for those assembled to be silenced. After a few minutes of effort on the part of the Stargazers, the voices were quieted down to a hushed whisper from one or two particularly rude members of the crowd. The silence was maintained for a few moments, till the Stargazers started to unroll an old scroll, part of which began to chip apart from age as it was unrolled. One member of the Stargazers came before the crowd to speak.

"I understand that with such a grand task, there are many among you who are eager to do what you can to end the crisis." He spoke loudly, selected among his peers for his strong voice and his ability to speak clearly, something often lost among the older and more reclusive Stargazers. "However, we have seen that it will be necessarily to send but a few warriors, chosen by the stars themselves. Sending more will result in disaster." He paused to allow a moment for those gathered to understand what he was saying. "As such, we will select you soon, choosing out those destined by fate to join upon this dangerous task. When you are asked to step forward, please follow along and stand up here." The Stargazer gestured behind him, where the highest part of the flooring was, on par with the rest of the palace. It was an invitation to stand on the same ground as the Royal family, some more loyal citizens would consider it an honor.

The Stargazers were gathered around a scroll, where they whispered and discussed how to interpret the signs, after each choice was made, a young man or woman from their apprentices would be sent off to bring forward the selected. Kalad Ashchrom was the first to be selected, the young woman who came for him smiled pleasantly as she held her hand out to guide him. Then Shawn Holyfield, the young man sent before him gestured to the warrior to come up to the stage, far too frightened to make contact with the outsider. The Stargazers had brought before them: Rosaline, Django, Shurik, Bridget, Marielle and finally after a quick argument between the Stargazers, Nathaniel.

Each were told to stand next to the one selected before them, each was given bowed heads of respect from the servants to the Stargazers. An angry looking man wielding two swords left the spot where he was standing and started walking towards the group of selected, he spoke with fury in his voice, "You would choose such weaklings over me! That girl is barely a child! And look at him!" His face was red with anger and passion, deep feelings of betrayal in his heart. One of the Stargazers held out her hand in front of him, her voice was fearless, "You may not approach further. You are you leave immediately." The man drew his blade and struck her across the side with a single motion, having lost his senses.

Many would move to react, many would place hands on their weapons or start to take steps, but a whirling axe blade tossed from further in the room split the raging man's skull apart, his body dropping backwards towards the ground. As eyes turned to look, there stood the King, his arm outstretched from his toss. He stood up straight and continued to walk towards the group as attendants ran to assist the wounded Stargazer. The King's path lead him to stand before those that had been chosen, a severe look upon his face as he studied each of them intently for flaws and weaknesses. Even as he bore his gaze down upon him the Stargazers were encouraging the others to make their way out, and for those who would still see their bravery noticed, to make their way toward the Knight-Captains post. The city still needed brave warriors to defend it.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, King Albrect stepped before Kalad, patting the man on the arm firmly and grabbing on to the front panel of Kalad's armor. "You are the Ashchrom boy, all grown up. Good, you father once forged me a fine blade. I expect you to be forged with the same dedication he has always shown. A good man from a good family." The King nodded his head in approval, but kept his stern look as he moved down the line.

His judging eyes came upon Shawn, peering firmly into his eyes, as though they were two beasts in a staredown. Finally the King gave a nod of respect to the barbarian. "I received the bear. Killed with strong hands, hands I hope will give their strength to less hardened warriors." He paused for a moment to study the man, "And to crush the Black Legion." His eyes held firmly locked with Shawn's even as he began to walk down the line.

King Albrect looked upon Rosaline, the first softening of his facial expression came. "The daughter of Arthur Mellikot." He put his hand on her armor and gave it a tug, as older warriors were known to do with the young. "Shoot well," he patted the patch of her belly that lacked any armor to protect it, "and avoid a wound to the gut." Being mocked and complimented in the same was a difficult thing, but there was little choice but to accept his words. "Aim for the underbelly of the great lizards, arrows won't pierce their hide elsewhere." He continued down the line, his stern look returning.

Django fell before that deeply judging gaze, while the King stared down at the man as though he were a child being looked at for signs of guilt. "A swordsman, hopefully a brave one. You remind me of a man I once fought beside. Use you talents to guard my daughter well." He gave Django a firm pat on the shoulder and continued along.

As he came before Shurik Mad-Blade he seemed almost frustrated, he looked forward at the man with a deep scrutiny that he had not placed upon the others. "I will confess, I know nothing of you. My men tell me you come from the deserts to the south, I have never ventured there." The king placed his fist to his chest and made a firm pounding noise. "Use what skills you possess for this quest, ensure that the Black Legion falls. And perhaps, after this is over, you will be willing to tell us about your people."

King Albrect stood before Bridget his left hand tensed into a ball, his eyes slowly edged from a look of study to a gaze of anger. He reached out and grabbed her arm like a man about to scold a child. His senses seemed to take hold and he relaxed his grip and gave her a gentler pat on her arm. "I know your face, and it hurts my pride to have you stand before me, yet I cannot deny the need for those with your skills. You have killed many, yet all this will be pardoned if you complete this quest. You will find yourself rewarded." He paused as if to let go of something in his heart, "Bring my daughter back to me when the task is done and you will also have my forgiveness."

He stepped away from Bridget quickly, moving to stand far above the Sky Elf before him, "If you have received any ill treatment from my people, please forgive us, we are not used to meeting with your kind." He held out his hand to take hers and gently held it for a moment, "In Orlay, our elders are respected, and you should have received such respect while you were within our city. I will try to secure you a much more appropriate reception when you return. I thank you for coming."

Finally he came to the last, Nathaniel. He shook his head a bit when he came before the young man. "Youth and ambition often follow hand in hand. I do not know what role you will play in this tale, yet you are a part of it as destined by the stars. You are young, and were I choosing men for this task by my eye alone you would not be here. Do not take these words as insult." He grabbed Nathaniel by his armor and pulled at it to check it was firmly in place. "Regardless of age, you return as a man with full rights. You will bear the title of hero as mightily as any other."

The King stood at his full height, stepping before the group as a whole and looking over them. "Do you have any questions for me? Any thing you need to request or any clarifications I can make as to the intent of this quest?" His voice was firm and strong, possessing the refined quality of nobility and the strength of a veteran warrior. As he finished speaking, a young man came up and handed the king the axe he had thrown earlier, now cleaned of gore.

Kalad stood on one of the many runes placed on the floor without even realizing what it was until he was already on it. Nothing bad had happened, that was good, but he would have to pay more attention later on. Glancing down at the rune as the others who had been gathered talked to one another, asking questions, comparing war stories, he realized that it was of a very old variety of rune, ancient, some might say. The books and scrolls he had read on such things said that such runes often spoke of fate and destiny far more often than any sort of magic he or any of the modern day runecrafters would use them for.

When the Stargazers asked for their silence, Kalad stood at attention and waited patiently for silence to fall upon the crowd. Occasionally he would take a sip of his mead, but otherwise he did not move and made no sounds. He was nervous, having never actually ventured beyond the inner walls of Orlay before, let alone enter the palace itself. When he was a child he had been brought here by his father and had met the king, but he didn't remember this himself and knew it only from the stories his father would tell him on occasion when they sat before their home hearth at night. Some distance away he could see a man from the lands beyond the castle walls, along side someone who seemed to be a mage of some sort, though he didn't know enough to tell what his specialty might be from looks alone. The larger man asked the mage something about how he was allowed to be here with such a weak clan. Or something like that. Looking down at the runes on which they stood, and glancing back to the one he was on, he could swear they seemed to glow very faintly, something only a person who worked with runes day in and our would see. Looking around him, few others did this.

Eventually, silence did fall, and the Stargazers began to speak once more, well, one man in particular who, despite his age and the idea that most of his kind had grown quiet, somewhat meek, spoke with a booming voice full of authority to the crowd, which made Kalad smile a bit. When he said that only a few warriors would be sent on this all important mission, Kalad understood the runes, and as he thought about it, understood why few would be better than many. He did not know much about military and tactics, but he did realize that a small group could move more quickly through the Legion and towards their destination.

Despite the fact that he had realized he would be called up anyway, Kalad was still surprised when his name was called, and when a young woman came to him, offering her hand and a smile, he give her a small smile in return and finishes his mead, setting the goblet aside before taking her offered hand and following her up to the platform, where he takes his place. Soon the large outsider he had noticed before stood beside him, and as he watched others came up to join them. The only one he recognized right of was Rosaline. The two were not close, but with both of their fathers being close to the king and a part of his force against the Legions, they had met once or twice. He could not be sure, but he would almost swear that one of them women who had passed by him to take their spot was an elf.

Shaking his head slightly, he turns and faces forward when he hears a voice of anger from the crowd. Looking around he spots a man arguing with one of the Stargazers, reaching for his sword. On instinct Kalad raises his left hand, and the runes on his gauntlet begin to glow orange, but as the fireball he had been creating forms in the palm of his hand, an axe comes tumbling through the room and takes care of the man. Breathing a sigh of relief, he lets the fire magic dissipate and the fireball turns to nothing but heat and flows up harmlessly as the armor cools back down and he lowers his arms, standing straighter as the sees the king enter the room and turns to face them. According to his father, he had met the king before, but was too young to remember it now, and while he had seen the great man in the city before, never had it been this close. Kalad was both excited and nervous as he was approached.

When the king patted his shoulder, he could feel the strength of the man and knew that, if the king had wanted, he could have probably taken his head off with a single swipe of that arm. He was glad for the compliments, and as the king passed by and onto the outsider beside him, Kalad nods and mutters a 'thank you sire' which probably goes unnoticed. When the inspections are over and they are asked if they have any questions Kalad cannot think of any, and so remains silent.

Many of the Stargazers gather their things and beginning returning towards their tower, even with the importance of sending off the heroes, they have many tasks ahead of them. There are stages to this battle that go beyond what a commander can judge with his eyes, and to this end the Stargazers regroup to see beyond what normal men can see. They gather to tell of what will come, to serve as the King's wise advisers in the darkest of hours.

King Albrect is a strong willed man with the heart of a lion, but his body is aged and his nights have been restless, even as he stands before the selected heroes, expending his composure to appear strong before a tide of destruction. Many friends lost, many more still to lose, yet a King cannot afford tears nor sorrow. He lifts his hand, fingers gesturing to a woman standing far behind, a lady in service to the queen. The middle-aged woman turns and begins heading towards the inner part of the castle, where the royal family makes their home.

No severe questions came from the heroes, yet there were things that must be said all the same. After a deep breath and a moment of thought the king began to speak.

"No simple task awaits you in the west, there are many dangers, as I am sure many of you are familiar with. The Black Legion is marching upon us, and more of their numbers emerge with each day. Many of my men and women await for the beginning of this quest and they will give you the opening you need to make it to the cover of the woods. I ask that you honor their sacrifice, for they march out knowing they face death in leaving the city walls."

His eyes closed for a moment, as he pictured what he could remember of the paths beyond the western wall. His fist tensed as he struggled to recall a name.

"Many years have past since I once walked in the outer lands, my mind is not clear on the paths nor should I advise you on where to go when you enter. My daughter seems to feel the pull, her eyes sometimes drift, her attention absent as she peers off to something beyond out sight. Follow her gaze should you become unsure of the way to the Black Legions' lair."

He glanced over each of them, "You will have a short period of time in order to prepare yourselves, I had packs of dried food readied, bread and salted meat along with waterskins. It would be best not to take the time to hunt, unless need demands it. Every day it takes for this quest to complete is a day that we spend having to hold our walls. My generals tell me they believe we can hold against this siege for three weeks, I do not believe we have more than two. Rapacity is a virtue in this, mix it well with carefulness but dread to tarry. We place the fate of Orlay in your hands."

A woman, beautiful with a steady look appears in regal clothing, from her eyes it is clear that she has been crying though she has done her best to cover it up. Beside her is a younger woman, wearing plainer, yet still fancy, clothing. The first of the two is the queen, a necklace bearing the crest of the royal family intends to make it clear to those who would not otherwise know. The woman at her side is her handmaiden, a woman of distinction and scholarly wit. Behind the two, a small girl peeks out to see the strangers who have gathered in her home.

Neither woman says anything as they walk closer, nor does the girl, who swiftly returns to hide behind her mother. The King gives a brief glance behind him, hearing the clack of less practical shoes on the wood and stone of the floors.

"Here comes my wife with my daughter now, please forgive her grieving, she does not wish to see our daughter part from our arms. It is a thing of sorrow for us both, as I imagine any parent would feel. Excuse us for showing our hearts so plainly," the King spoke with a softer tone, his voice shifting from how he speaks to his subjects into how he speaks around his child and wife. "Have Mylina come over here, these are our champions, selected by the stars of destiny."

The little girl was lifted up by the Queen's handmaiden and carried over towards her father. Mylina desperately buried her face in the handmaiden's neck, hiding away from the unusual people who she was being introduced to. The handmaiden stood the girl beside her father and pressed a hand on the child's back with a whispered, "stand properly." The Queen stood back, watching from a short distance away, she did not wish to come closer as her heart was already pressing her close to tears again.

"This is Mylina. My only daughter. She was born with strange markings upon her back, circles and line with runes and other archaic markings. They were recorded and many have worked on deciphering what it means but to no avail. The Stargazers tell me that this is what will undo the bindings of the Black Legion and reduce them to dust before us. No other reason would I let my daughter part my sight were it not for the end that meets us should she not go. I am glad so many of you speak of dedication, and I ask that you do what you can to protect Mylina on the way there and back again."

The little girl's eyes glanced at each of the warriors gathered, her own mind barely understanding what was being asked of her. She had been explained that she would accompany them, but her young mind couldn't appreciate the importance of such a monumental task. Her eyes looked over each with confusion and fear, only a couple of them were anything similar to the people she was used to.

"Gather yourselves, your task will soon begin, follow my man," He gestured to a middle aged scholar who was walking into the room, "He will guide you to where we are getting ready." The King leaned down to hug his daughter, "Mylina, these warriors will guide you. Stay with them, listen to what you are told and try not to be afraid. I love you my child, I am sorry to ask you for so much."

The scholar gestured with a limp hand, "Right along this way," his voice was rasp and nasally with an unpleasant whine. He started walking towards a side courtyard where several attendants had bags in their hands to hand off and an armored man stood beside a small cashe of weapons and gear. A couple of younger ladies, hardly twenty, stood together holding several finely woven, and darkly colored cloaks, behind them remained the rest.

The Scholar spoke again, "Take what you will, if you need for anything else before you depart, simply let me know and I'll see if we can fetch it for you." His unpleasant voice did not seem to bother the attendants but one of the girls with the cloak seemed to cringe slightly as he spoke. His every word like fingernails on slate to her ears.

Minutes after the young princess was lead out by her father, held firmly by the hand. She was wearing a many layered dress of fine quality, and well crafted shoes for a woodland journey. She fussed over the rough wool cloak that covered her, the scratchy fibers were something she was unused to having to wear. Her father gave a stern look and she put her hands down, letting the cloak rest against her without further adjustment.

The king did not acknowledge Shawn's request, but in honesty it wasn't one to begin with. Shawn was going to take it even if he had to kill the others to do so. He glared about at the others and the king as more spoke, and looked up as the girl was shown to them, revealing a small quivering figure that they had to defend from the Legion and all of its horrors. Shawn smiled and rolled his shoulders as though he were loosening up to prepare for a fight, a sign that he was anxious for battle. The challenge piled on with every moment, and surviving in of itself would bring his name glory, but Shawn was strong enough to shoulder all of it, and use that weight to crush his enemies. The woman who had stood beside him went to console the child, as did the whisperer from before, and Shawn watched in interest, as well as listening carefully to their words. Both used flowery speech to bring comfort, but talk never won battles, not amongst the clans at any rate. The giant of a man turned to face the King, slamming a fist to his chest and grunted.

"She is clan" He said simply as he turned and headed to view the weapons and armor provided by the King's men, casting aside his own battered blade for a hefty claymore, weighing as much as a small child, part of the weight focused at the tip of the dense blade to make swings faster, giving them more momentum and cutting power. It was a fine blade, and Shawn accepted it, holstering it as he looked around at the selection again, not seeing anything else that suited his eye, and so took a knife and called it a day for the shopping. He finished as the whisperer and woman finished speaking to the girl, and Shawn decided to approach her, crouching down to get closer to her eye level.

"Shawn strong, you no need be". It was simple, and to a fellow of the clan, it would be an insult, but Shawn meant it as comfort. She had the power to do what none in the clans could, which was destroy the Legion, so she obviously had strength elsewhere besides her arms. Shawn chose to respect it, or kill her if those marks were just that and nothing more. He stood and joined the others, settling beside the first to be chosen, one whose armor bore more funny symbols, and gave him a stern glare.

"King say Orlay fight so we start. Nine clan die so Shawn get into Orlay... Excited to see how many Orlay worth one Clan. They die with honor like Clan... die strong like Clan" He said, a tinge of sadness in his voice hinting at his missing his brethren, remembering as they slew other clans together, and eventually the Legion until numbers overcame them. The barbarian looked over at the King one last time and gave a nod as he headed out, grabbing a mud brown cloak on his way, snatching a slab of beef from a banquet table as he headed back outside. He lived his day to day outside... it felt wrong to not do so now at the start of his greatest conquest.

Kalad remained silent and unmoving as the King addressed the group as a whole once more after the questions had been asked. After having been around the king for a bit now, he was reminded much of his father. Kalold was near the same age as King Albrect, both were powerful men, both physically and in their own right, however both of them were getting older, and their age was catching up. There were little signs that gave it away, seemingly insignificant things that, if one didn't know what they were seeing wouldn't even see them at all. And like his own father, Kalad knew that should anything happen to the princess, Hell would rise up against the Black Legion, if only for a moment.

Looking from the king as he motions behind him the mage watches as a woman leaves them, then as the queen, her daughter, and one of her maidens arrive and stop near the king. He could only catch a glimpse of the girl, Mylina was her name, but that was all he needed to understand things more clearly. She was little more than a baby in his eyes, and though he clenches his fists at the thought of her having to travel strange lands with an even stranger group of people, he says nothing. Unlike most of the others, he also does not approach the royal family nor does he say anything to them.

From here on out, my actions must speak louder than my words. That child is precious to this kingdom, in more ways than one, and if it comes to it, I will give my life protecting her...I hope it doesn't though... Kalad thinks to himself, giving a nod to the royal family before turning and following the others outside.

When Kalad sees the armor he almost laughs a little. He would never trust the armor made by anyone other than himself or his father, but aside from that he had spent a week etching the runes into his particular set of armor, and there was no way he would give that up, even if the new set was good enough for the knights of Orlay. Moving on he looks at the weapons, sorting through them thoroughly even as the others come by and select their own items. Anyone who saw what he picked and did not know of his skills would think him a fool. Several small knives, more fit for the kitchen table than anywhere else, along with three hammers of various sizes. He also asks one of the servants to retrieve some small pieces of scrap metal from the closest forge. Once this has been gathered he takes two of the offered packs, empties the contents of one into the other, then stows the items he had just picked up. Moving over to the cloaks he selects two, one of them made of a rough black cloth, very large, which he uses to wrap around the two packs so make them easier to carry. The second one is a dark grey on the outside with a black inner lining. This he slips on over his armor before pulling the larger pack over one shoulder.

Standing there, watching the others as he got his equipment situated comfortably, he hears the large man, Shawn he thought to be his name, speaking to him. His words seemed a bit forced, and Kalad could tell this wasn't his native tongue. As the man talks he nods, frowning a little at his words, able to understand them as if he were having a conversation with anyone else. When Shawn has finished, he responds.

What the forgemage says cannot completely be translated into the English language. It comes out as a series of low growls, soft snarls and other such sounds. Normally it would more have been yelled than spoken, but Kalad had never actually used the language before, the language of the Holyfield, and he assumed several other clans, which was said to have come down through the ages as a way for man to communicate with dragons. What he says, basically, is We may not have the blood of dragons in our veins, my large friend, but we are a strong people, a strong clan. Give us a chance and you will see what I mean. I am honored to have you on my side of this conflict.

Lead into the small courtyard with the others, Nate was currently hard at work looking through the weapons presented to the heroes. The medic had rarely been anywhere near the front lines during his service to Orlay but now he would soon see himself charging through them to get into the vast forest outside his kingdoms walls. It also didn't help the only thing close to a weapon he carried was a pike which was mainly used to create a magical barrier for quick patch jobs on the field. Finding a small collection of short swords, the young man grabs a simple looking blade and pulls it out of its sheath to get a better look. Taking a few practice swings, Nate finds that it should suit his needs perfectly places the weapon back in its holster before tying the scabbard to his belt. In a similar fashion the medic goes and finds a buckler amongst a pile of shields and secures it to his forearm.

After accepting a cloak from one of the servants, Nate makes his way over to the small crowd gathered around the princess. While he normally couldn't stand children, Mylina was a exception. If what the stargazers had prophesized about her was correct, she appeared to have some connection to the legion's power source, which apparently also doubled as a compass for leading them towards it. The medic's curiosity was abuzz with questions though he doubted anyone could really answer them so for now he did the logical thing and keep his mouth shut while the Valigart talked to the princess and the barbarian known as Shawn gave a typical alpha male speech. Sighing slightly as the brute walked off, Nate raised a eyebrow at the battle mage who then began growling and snarling as a form of communication with Shawn. If that was the way the barbarians communicated normally it explained why Orlay was able to fend off the simpletons for years.

Far behind the inner wall to the courtyard, beyond this small grassy patch smelling of sweet honey and lilac sprigs, there was a war. The battle was raging once more, and the faint clash of metal, the shattering of blades against blades haunted the air with a shrill reminder to those gathered in this safe place. Death ravaged on as time was spent here. Few smiles came to the faces of those servants here to assist, and for some, the only reason they were not in tears was because they had already mourned for the dead who still live, those swordsmen who held the privilege of being the front line.

The actions of Shurik were frightening to the young queen, who lacked the age, or years of battle her husband had. A small gesture from the King kept her reaction pleasant, she trusted her husband in these matters, despite the whelming fear that plagued her. She was not prepared for blood. She spoke in soft words, "I thank you for your kindness, bring my child back to me and you will have my gratitude for the rest of my days." Shurik's ways were confusing but, should anyone be able to do something like this perhaps this group of strange individuals was the best bet in succeeding. Or so the Queen thought as she watched Shurik step away.

Rose's comforts, along with those of Shawn were received with nods of appreciation from the King and strange stares from the young princess, she did not speak in response to either of them, she simply watched them with curious eyes. It felt like something more lay behind her gaze, something eerie.

In the courtyard, the girl held the knife she was given in her hands, looking at it the same way one might admire a piece of art, she held it gently. The King looked to Shurik, "thank you for your kindness. I am happy that you will be on this journey." The King smiled at Rosaline's behavior, "You will do a fine job. Orlay trusts you to guard our walls, and I trust you with my daughter."

Once everyone appeared to be ready and had things gathered the King gave a gentle push on the back to his daughter, "Stay with your guardians, listen well to them. It is time for your journey to begin and for all of us to play the roles we were born to play." He looked up towards the others, his voice spoke with more conviction, "We begin. Head towards the city gate, there will be several of the people of Orlay present to assist in this endeavor. Each is ready to do what they must to help, to guard you till you can escape the Black Legion. A last warning, stay together, work together. You will surely each come to understand each other's strengths and weaknesses." He held his hand up, "May the Ancestors watch over you, and the stars guide you."

The pathway down towards the city gate was made clear, any debris that might have been blocking the passage was now removed. By the gate a small group of riders in heavy armor sat atop fine horses equally armored. Groups of spearmen stood at the ready behind them, great shields in their off hands to create a wall to pass between. At the far back an elderly man stood, two apprentices by his sides held up paper banners covered in runic wards and geometric shapes.

The last bit to this plan seemed to be the arrival of the Princess and her guardians, though few at the walls could spare the time to watch their approach.

Kalad had been keeping to himself after his little talk with Shawn, partly because talking like that hurt his throat, and partly because he was focusing on the task at hand. Runes could take anywhere from an hour to a month to scribe properly, learning how to do so took years of focus and patience, put on top of that his training in the art of fire and heat magic, combine that with his work as a blacksmith apprentice under his father, and he had gained the patience of a man three times his age or more. Now, when he needed to, it was easy for the forgemage to ignore the roar of the crowd gathered around the gates, to ignore the twang of bow strings and the clang of swords outside the walls.

As he walked the runes, which were like black scars on his dull grey armor, began to glow, first red, then orange, now yellow. His mana, now channeled into the armor, was ready to supply him with all that he needed to cast simple fire and heat magic with a flick of the wrist or wave of the hand.

Looking around he could see the archer, Rose, speaking with a man whom he guessed to be her father. She was worried about the princess, as they all should be, but already he could tell she was becoming attached to the girl. Despite his seemingly cold exterior, the assassin Shurik seemed to be warming up to the girl as well. Even Shawn, the outsider of the group, was keeping a watchful eye on the girl. It seemed it would be up to Kalad to keep his distance and stay objective on this mission. One of the other things his father had tried to instill in his son was a sense of positioning. Right now, the princess was their greatest treasure, and while a few of the adventurers needed to stick close to her, others would need to hang back and watch over everyone, make sure no mistakes were made that could endanger the group as a whole. But, of course, Kalad had never really been outside Orlay, and all of this was book knowledge.

"Let me lead the charge of our group," Kalad says, staying close to the group, but not so close to affect them with his heat, which surrounded him now like an aura. "My armor will protect me from any physical harm, and I can cast fire spells to keep the Legion at bay once we get beyond the help of Orlay. I'll charge through, and you all can fall in behind me...that is, if you agree to this. I'll not lie, I've never been in a real fight before, this is all knew to me, but I swear the use of all my knowledge and skills to the group."

The castle grounds were abuzz with activity, a familiar sight to the veteran warrior studying their movements as they prepared, himself preparing for the day his blade would be turned on them. In his boredom waiting on the others to pick out weapons and tend to their affairs before setting out, Shawn had decided to climb a tree and liberate a sturdy limb from the proud oak, and sat parallel to the gates as he whittled himself a sturdy club, watching the Legion intently as he did so. By the time he finished, the others were gathering near him, and decided to rejoin the group, with the one named Rose asking Shawn to tend to the child when they made their way out through the Legion.

"Shawn fight, not nurse. Shawn lead charge, crush Legion underfoot. Whispering man close behind, catch what Shawn wound, and girl in middle with magic user...", Shawn said as he pointed at Nathan, "...so strong can fight. Fire man behind them, make sure Legion can't split group, while others kill stragglers. Archer's have daggers ready, no need bows until we break through" Shawn replied to the suggestion, believing it to be a bad idea for him to care for the child when skulls needed crushing. He may be a brute, but even he had need for strategy on the battlefield... a Battlemaster didn't earn his title by being completely mindless like the beserkers.

"Shawn want test new club anyway" the beast of a man said, almost playfully as he swung the hunk of wood around, casually though to a trained eye one could tell he had bludgeoned with such a weapon before. "But Shawn best at charge, he and nine clan had break through Legion to get into city and only lost seven to Legion... Orlay archers kill other two clan when we enter range" Shawn said, shooting Rose and Bridget a glare, not knowing if they had been on the wall that day or not, but for the moment he assumed they both were, tensing his body as though he wanted to crush them on the spot, which he did, but restrained himself for the greater glory of defeating the Legion.

The outer wall shook with the might of the endless ranks of the Black Legion, the next wave of the assault reached the stonework with a clash of metal on rock. Arrows pelted fanatically downwards as the legion fell one by one. Their thinning gave little comfort as a sea of new warriors poured forward, marching upon their own fallen to get ever closer to overcoming the defenders of the city. Goodbyes were suddenly halted as the demands of the wall came to light. A stocky man of foreign origin fell from the wall, his dark screams quickly silenced under the unforgiving blade of a Black Legionnaire, for there were no prisoners taken by this army nor mercy shown.

The young princess made no noise, nor did she cower or show awareness of the events transpiring around her. Even as other children hid within the walls, weeping in fear or cowering in their homes, Princess Mylina simply watched. A man in his twenties standing atop a nearby roof, able to survey the other side of the wall shouted down to his captain, the man on horseback who would lead the Calvary out into the field. "Sir, they're all forward pressed, the gap is there!" the man's voice was hard to hear over the clash of battle, but he used every bit of his voice to cry out over the noise.

A young captain, identified by the overlay on his garment (though his years would indicate otherwise), gestured towards the group to come forward, the time had come to give an opening, to split apart the enemy forces in order to give the heroes the chance they would need to reach beyond the walls of the city. It was a half day's walk to the Great Wall, if they were swift of foot they could make it far sooner. Alacrity was as necessary as carefulness, a trial for a group of individuals that were little more than strangers to each other. Time would bind them closer, or seem them all destroyed.

A horn was blown to coordinate the various parts of this endeavor and immediately the old mage's hands began to gesture in wide arcs, eldritch power crackled forth from the two banners, the numbers and geometric shapes rose up and away from the page and began surrounding the elderly man, the life in his cheeks seemed to drain away as his gestures drew closer towards himself. Arcane energy polluted the ground below him in a mirage of color and distortion, a sight few would see again, a magic never before preformed and likely to ever be performed again.

The gates pried open with the turning of a spoked wheel, the archers above leaned over the wall to fire arrows at the entrance as the Calvary captain reared his horse and drew out his sword, glimmering brass in the sunlight. As his horse's hooves landed on the ground the horsemen all took their charge, galloping into the horde that lie before them. They were but the wedge to open the way, and they rode out with cries of bravery swinging their blades down to strike at enemies as their mounts trampled over the Legion. Behind them rushed the spearmen, holding open the gap by jabbing at the Legion.

The Valigart were given their order to keep watch over the heroes as they made their way through the gap, to shoot down any of the Black Legion that broke past the spears or horses. Their arrows were precise and well timed, pegging back each of the foes and slaying many of them. Even as they fired to clear the path, the wall below them was being marched upon, the legion edging closer to the archers. One seemed to stay her attention but a sharply barked order brought the focus back to where the other arrows flew.

Django watched as the gates were opened and he drew his iron sword as he felt the start of this journey pressing upon him. He looked at his companions and the tiny girl they were supposed to protect. He smirked slyly. "Let's do this." he simply stated as he turned to the gap. "Someone get the princess on their shoulders too. Fight hard and don't look back. We'll be slowing down if we looked back." With those words simply said he started to jog in place waiting for the signal to run. He then remembered the same thing being mouthed by his mentor the moment he left home to learn from him, sighing as he silently promised to his father and Mentor both, that he'd come home safe.

The moment it was given, He started to run alongside Kalad where he think he can pick off any stragglers left behind by Shawn and Shurik with a few swipes of his sword. "Let's show them no Quarter spell user!" he yelled out as he chuckled heartilly. "No BLOODY QUARTER!"

Rose held Shawn's glare and looked back into the barbarian's eyes. "Orders were to shoot anything that moved," She stated in a matter-of-factually tone. Everything in the Legion's sea of bodies looked so alike, she couldn't say whether it was or wasn't her who gave Shawn's clanmates the killing blow. Even if she did, she was given the orders to protect the city at any costs, and she didn't feel regret at taking any of her shots. What she destroyed then meant one less she had to destroy here, and she wasn't going to apologize for it. But the conversation, if one could call it that, didn't have the chance to get heated as the order was given to open the gates.

The sounding horn indicated the beginning of this journey and the opening maw of the gate was just the start of their path. Rose took a couple of steps back to better cement her position of a rear guard and in one fluid motion had her bow in hand and an arrow in the other. The arrow's fletching was dyed red and orange and the shaft was expertly inscribed with mystical runes. Before gate had opened wide enough to allow for the onslaught of the calvary and spearmen, she began to play a song on her bowstring. She drew and loosed the arrow, firing it at the gap in the gates. In midair, it crackled and popped, igniting in intense flame and piercing the chest of the unlucky legionnaire to find itself in the path of Rose's runic arrow. Upon impact, the entire being burst into flames and like that, the mad charge was off to a start.

And a mad charge it was. Rose expected the barbarian to lose himself in the blood and war instintly, and she wasn't surprised when he did. What did surprise her was the tiny elf Marielle's raw ferocity, managing to even keep up with the barbarian. Next was the loud swordsman Django or Black Thirteen or whatever he called himself screaming no quarter at the fire mage. Shurik, well, the foriegner was gone in a flash, taking the princess along with him. Truth be told, Rose felt more comfortable with Shurik taking the princess than anyone else, as the man seemed least likely not to find a blade in the sea of warriors. Though Rose wished he wouldn't violently kill with the Princess in tow. They were supposed to protect her, not mentally scar her.

It seemed her and the medic were the only really sensible ones in the fray. As Nathan ran ahead to keep up with their companions, Rose followed behind at a clip, letting fly a couple of unruned arrows, each finding their home in the chest of a Legionnaire. Here, even Rose displayed another facet of her personality. The trained killer, a disciplined and lethal soldier of Orlay. She drew another arrow, this time one with deep blue fletching and runes. She nocked it and aimed to the side where the spearmen were busy holding the line. She fired past two extremely surprised spearmen and planted itself into the ground. Moments later and the runes kicked in, slicking the area around the arrow in a thin sheet of ice. Rose immediately nocked another arrow, and couldn't see the sight of a number of legionaries slipping on the ice to be dispatched by the spearmen.

Rose managed to keep step with her group as they surged forward. Wasn't hard to keep track of them really, just follow the bodies. After firing another unruned arrow, she withdrew two arrows, one with white fletching and another ice arrow. She fumbled the white arrow and dropped it on the ground, but managed to nock the ice arrow and sent it flying towards the front of the group. It impacted a Legionnaire, freezing it solid for either the Barbarian or elf to smash at their convenience.

The white fletched arrow would later explode into a heavy white mist, allowing the survivors of the charge to retreat back to the castle under cover. If she had timed it right, it would set off once her party had made it to the woods.

Before Kalad could consed to the battle plan of the barbarian and admit his plan was better, he saw a flash in the mans eyes, followed by a shiver that he understood to mean the man was entering what the books refereed to as the 'berserk stage' of the barbarian warrior. They lost their minds, in a manner of speaking simply on the subject, in order to focus on their strength, meaning they could deal great damage as well as receive such blows with no sign of stopping until they either died or forced themselves to calm down.

He made a note not to get too close to the man until such a time.

When the horn was sounded Kalad looked around for a moment before taking off, making sure that someone had taken up the princess before the group surged forth into battle. It was the assassin Shurik who would carry the little girl through the fray, a task Kalad would have accepted if need be, though he was glad the fastest of the group had done so. He would be able to dodge the strikes of the enemies and should be able to deliver attacks of his own which would either end them or fall them for the others to take care of. The assassin followed close behind Shawn and Marielle, the elf surprising the mage with her combination of both strength and finesse despite the fact that he had read up on the race, though there was little information about them, leading him to know only that they were much stronger and generally more graceful than a human, and that they seemed ageless and immortal if compared to any race near Orlay.

When the man beside him, Django, called out about giving no quarter, Kalad gives him a grim smile and draws his rune-blade, long sword crafted for him by his father, scribed with fire magic runes which etched geometric patterns of triangles and lines and calculated spirals and curves down the length of the sharpened iron. Before he could reply, however, an arrow sang through the air to strike the land somewhere ahead of the group, causing him to look back to the archer Rose and give a thumbs up before speaking.

"No quarter given...sounds good to me." Kalad says, looking back to Django as he smirks, the runes slowly beginning to glow orange from the base of the blade, moving towards the tip, "Just don't get to close, wouldn't want you to catch fire!"

As he speaks the last words his eyes go hard and he slings the blade towards the man, sending a fireball the size of his head past him, striking one of the Legion in the chest, causing him to become engulfed in flames which quickly spread to those closest to him. Turning back he looks around to check on the others as he runs, then brings his sword down again to his right, cutting off the arm of another enemy, the hot blade moving through the black armor like a knife through butter, searing the wound closed.

Laughter escaped Shawn's lips once they broke through the Legion ranks and his frenzy had calmed with a lack of enemies to destroy. His mind drifting back towards sanity, the warrior took in his surroundings and found the land to be unfamiliar. His clan had traveled another way to get to Orlay, and his people lived beyond the Great Wall, but he still had the survival skills which came from a life spent enduring the wilderness. His eyes caught sight of the river, as well as the wall in the distance, but turned his attention to the girl with the pointed ears, crouching down and lightly poking her arms a few times before smiling and looking her in the eye.

"Fought good, strong like clan but too..." He trailed off, searching for the right word in the foreign tongue he used, but then looked up at Kalad.

"Tell her she fought good but was too contained and focused, fought like an Orlay" Shawn waited for Kalad to relay the message, and resumed his smile at the Elf.

"All pointy ears strong as you, or you Dragon blood?" He asked, asking if she got her strength as his own clan had, who would hunt and kill dragons in the ancient times, drinking their blood and using the dragon bones and hide for weapons and armor. The blood they drank would ensure a strong child, or so the shamans would say. When he finished examining the elf, he looked to the rest of the group.

"Dark Armors marched like ants over dead. Avoid now" he said before pointing at the river, "Find water and follow to wall. Clan follow river to Orlay, but Dark Armors may camp near now. Any you know these wood?" he asked, glancing about the group, taking care to ensure Rose saw his earlier declaration of hate had not diminished due to having fought together with his gazes towards her, but said nothing concerning it. For now he was content to figure out where to go now that they had broken through the Legion for the moment. A few things were obvious, even to Shawn, such as having clean water and a source of game to hunt for meat. Shawn believed they should camp near the river, and travel through the forests when they advanced towards the wall. The trees would keep the Legion unable to make full use of their numbers as they would in a field or meadow, and was certain the damned warriors were incapable of stealth, which this group was not... mostly. Shawn was capable but chose not to make use of it, as the bigger kills wanted fights to begin with, and bears had more meat on their bones than a timid elk.

After the initial surge forward Kalad had lost himself in the madness of it all. He followed behind the others, following blindly, something he would never have done if not for the stress of the situation at hand, and eventually he found himself standing in a clearing with the others, the sounds of battle behind him. Calming himself with a series of deep breaths, he allows the magic in his armor to dissipate, causing a small cloud of steam to surround him as the heat flows into the cooler air. Eventually his armor is back to normal, though still warm to the touch, and he has ahold of himself enough to hear Shawn speaking to him in his native tongue.

Listening to the large man, he nods and turns to Marielle and relays the message before sheathing his sword on his back and taking a look around, trying to determine where they were in correlation to the palace. While doing so he listen to the others, and notices Rose is not quite herself, which, given the recent events, doesn't surprise him, but he feels as though he should do something. Not knowing the world as well as the others, however, he can think of nothing to say, and so he walks over and lays a hand on her shoulder for a moment, giving her a sympathetic look and hopes she understands his intentions

"If memory serves..." Kalad says for a moment, walking over to the river, looking first upstream, then down, "This river runs all the way to the wall and under it, though a large iron grate. I think our best bet is indeed to follow this for as long as we can, then find someway past the wall when we come to it."

As he speaks he looks around at the group. It was obvious that they would be doing this anyway, but he hoped his words would help to ensure the others, as he suspected he might be the only one with knowledge of the world beyond Orlay in this direction...even if it was only from his history and geography books. Thanks to said books, he also knew that they would indeed have a few fights waiting for them beyond the wall, and probably on the way there as well. Humans may be the dominate race in Orlay, and in the lands within the walled off section of this world, but it was not so in other places. They would need to be prepared for anything, and so he remains standing by the river, waiting for the others to be ready, then falls in with them as they head out.

"Coddled?" Rose couldn't help but laugh. The last thing the soldiers were was coddled. Especially her, the daughter of the greatest archer in Orlay. She had certain expectations to live up to because of that heritage . "We may not throw our children off into some wolf pit to toughen them up, but the soldiers of Orlay are a hard sort. We would happily give our lives for our king and our home. Hell, we are fighting for our homes now, and we're cornered. And you best of all should know that a cornered beast is at it's most dangerous, barbarian," She said, staring daggers at Shawn.

"Especially the Valigart," she added, raising her head up high. Depression had shifted into indignation at Shawn's words. "Do you understand how hard the woman have to work to be recognized in Orlay? Much less to become part of the army? The Valigart is the best at what we do and that's to kill whatevers threatening our home before the bastards can even see us on top of that wall," She said. "These lifeless bastards don't have that drive, they don't feel like us. If the things weren't so damn resilient, then they too would have been crushed like everything else that stood against Orlay and her safety," She said, boldly implying the Barbarian's own tragedy. Then she shot a glance to Shurik, "We do not go down easily, and we do not lose our footing, assassin. Best you remember that," She said with full conviction. Their words managed to light a fire in her heart, and now she fully believed in her own words. The Valigart would not let some undead legionnaire bastards kill them, Rose included.

Without waiting a response from either of the men, she unclasped the cloak around her shoulders and tossed it to Marielle, "Hold that for me, please?" She not so much as requested, but demanded. Rose didn't harbor any bias against the elf, but that didn't mean she too was safe from Rose's mood. Then she pulled off a bag and pressed it into Kalad's hands, explaining that, "It's Mylina's. Don't lose it," she said, talking long steps away from the group. "Come on Shurik, didn't you say something about scouting ahead? Then lets get to it," She told Shurik as she pushed forward ahead of the man, nocking an ordinary arrow into her bow as she walked. She threw her head back to the others and then said, "And if the princess is hurt when I get back, I'm going to shove an arrow up each of your asses." The barbarian didn't manage just to start a fire, but more akin to an inferno. Rose couldn't help but want to see a Legionnaire and put an arrow square in the middle of it's skull.

"Come on people, let's get this done so I can go home and stop worrying about this," She called.

Django was shocked to see Rose's anger flare due to Shawn's and Shurik's attempt to calm her depressed mood, but all that did was make her pissed at everyone. He felt that he should finally get his own troubled spirits out in the open but he held his peace, only giving one small hint on what he did know about the legion and what they caused him by letting several tears escape him before his face turned into an calm, yet slightly angered manner in order to act the way he made his first impression.

"Well, Lesson well taught from a barbarian on how not to calm a lady down and have her insult in everyone's faces in five syllables or less." He stated. "But I agree one thing, if we don't get a movin towards the wall and find a way through it and steer clear from the legion baddies our gooses are as well as cooked, not to mention I don't want to take an arrow in the buttocks or worse an arrow in the kneecap."

With that said he looked at Kalad. "Fire-Mage. Since Mad-man with a blade is absent it boils down to you, Madam Marielle, or the Healer Man to carry the Princess if you please?" he asked in a hushed tone. "I'm carrying a Silver Blade on my back and would not like to drop it anytime soon for it feels as though I may need it for future reference. Also, I don't trust anyone who can comfort a lady from a depressed state into a severely angry mood to do the task."

With that he then kept his ears open for any ambushes as he traveled with the others to the wall.