Tempers Ball

(OOC: Best of luck. *Refrains from saying what she really thinks*)

The reports poured in, and for over an hour she had withstood the attacks of half of the Riders kingdoms. The sheer amount of effort put into bringing her down was almost laughable, and yet she felt only pleased that they had gone to so much trouble over one kingdom. Walking away from the burning wreck after it had been leveled after some nearly thousand strike rounds. Listening as Sabian spoke of the news. There is discussion, it seems they made a mistake, my Demoness.

Yet even as these words left his mouth the reports once again were carried to her. A pity, she thought. Never trust the word of a heathen, Sabian. For their words are as feces and their honor as sullied as that which they squat upon. Send forth my imps and rebuild..tomarrow we war again. Sabian turned face towards the sound of fighting. Balking. Dishonorable, one and all. Catching up to her, blind as he was. Listening as she shouted orders. Finally giving him her attention, patient and coldly cunning. Sooner a heathen to die a liar, than live a loser.

-Blood dripping off of her fangs and her troops looking over the thousands of acres taken in a short day of combat Nagah shruggs-

Too much talking for a dead person...

-She turns to her Armies-

Let's head home, and feast on the bodies of the fallen, they will probably taste filthy, but I bet it will help break moral when we throw the relatives over the wall of the next kingdom we sack...

-he awoke from hsi slumber, drenched in sweat. The blaring of horns could be heard from within his darkened keep. Springing to his feet, he scorunged around the room for a pair of shoes. Finding two shoes, he slipped them on. About this time, his chamber door swung open, there stood a bloodied guard. One of his own. Wide-eyed and fearful, he knew the news before any words had been spoken. He knew what was happening.-

"We have been attacked in the night. They flew the banner of the Riders. Our defenses held strong, we lost many a temple. What shall we do sire? Hold off, or return the favor?"

-Attero stood firm in his frilly pink pajamas, one blue slipper on the right foot, an oddly colored green slipper on the other. Getting his gruffest war face on, the order was placed. Seek and Destroy. The troops were rallied, the men were ready.-

"Lead the men onward. You know the drill. This is not the first time we've been tested."

-the guard limped from the doorway, closing the door behind him. Attero slumped heavily onto his bed. IF only he could get some sleep. Finally awakening more enough to move further than a few steps, he found his way to the door. Opening it, and stepping into teh stone hallway. Onward to his chambers. Onward to Victory. Onward....to the bathroom....."

Howling laughter as once again her ruined Kingdom rose from the bloody muck as if being born. It was a horrible sight. Her golden orbs turned towards the Rider Kingdoms. Hooves squelched through the mud, heathen wounded were ripped apart.

Her blade lifted and fell again and again, spilling heathen blood in two of the kingdoms. Did you think death would stop me? How amusing! I am your worst nightmare, cut me down and I shall rise up to strike at the very heart of your guild. Knock me to my knees and I shall rip your legs from beneath you. You are nothing! NOTHING! And we are coming, coming to tear the acres from your grasp and the light from your eyes..and when we have finished bending you double over a shattered alter and riding you gutless heathens until your orrafices pucker in agony..then we shall slit your throats!

(OOC: Very nice, clean hit, by Riders. Don't have the starting stats, but WoR had 16 members and 280,000ish NW. Riders hit up from 16 members and 250,000ish NW.)

"Sire! We're being... "

"Shh."

The messanger blinked a few times and looked at the Captain, who was apparently sitting with his eyes closed, doing nothing.

"But sire.."

"Shush!"

The messanger stood very still... obviously extremely confused. Minutes passed.. 15 minutes... Half an hour passed. 45 minutes passed. A full hour passed. Still the messanger stood there, watching the Archangel, who sat in his chair, serene as could be, with his eyes closed.

Then, finally, at the end of the hour, his eyes snapped open, and he smiled.

"Do you hear that?"

The messanger strained to hear anything, but could hear only silence. He looked up, puzzled, at the Captain.

"Sire, I hear nothing. What is it?"

"That, my friends, is the sound of Riders having been turned around and sent back to their own kingdoms, by only six of the Warguard..."

"You mean...?"

The Archangel only nodded, and closed his eyes again, as the messanger slowly turned and walked out of the room... more bewildered then when he entered...

The night had been a long one. The hunt, however lived on. 'twas true that the evenings festivities had not gone as well as originally anticipated. Though the original burnings had accomplished their intended goal, the scouts were seen in the act.

Pressures from within and without mounted, and and before the first skirmish on the battlefields, reports of the retalliation were allready being heard. The sorcerers were being hit before they could inflict the desired ammounts of damage. Things were not turning in the favor of the riders, and yet, the strike would move forward.

Richard was disturbed from his meeting with the leaders of the kindoms by a bloodied Devon Rhenquest. Slightly disturbed at the sight of his friends limping form, which struggled to move across the floor of the war tent, Richard excused hmself from the table.

What has befallen us my friend?

My lord, Though we sucessfully brought down the wrath of isonia from the heavens upon three of their realms, one of them is allready making war against us. We've struck another on the flank to recover the acreage lost and then some, but two thirds of our buildings and allmost all of our temples have been destroyed.

I see, came the short reply. The gryphon had pressing matters of state to attend to that evening. Matters which required her full attention. Though she would eventually join them, she was not there now. She had placed the shark in charge in her absense. He missed her strength more than ever now.

What would your orders be my lord? Rhenquest ventured again, despite his wounds nearly crippling him he still seemed eager to please his lord.

Richard thought a bit. and then decided what plan would befall him and his people.

Tonight we will aid in the destructuon of the one known as Eisheth. Though she put up a most excellent fight, it appears that the work is nearly done on her. No doubt, she will rise from these ashes this evening, but we will await her movement, and strike her down again. Some will never learn it seems. After we have finished for the evening refortify as best you can, and evacuate the peasants. I will petition the church for a new home for them. Tomorrow we will do what we can, and when we ate through we will burn the realm, all of it. We will leave fires so high that no one will dare enter it by day or night. See to it that that is done, and Devon... Be well.

After he had finished he watched as Rhenquest mounted his ride, and rode into the darkness. Somehow, he knew he would see his friend again. He was a survivor just like richard. Somehow they both just survived. When his friend was out of site he returned to the wartent, his eyes ablaze. The noise fell into a stony silence as he took his seat and spoke.

I care not what news your scouts bring, nor do I take any care about what the outcome appears to be. We will all fight for this guild tonight, through both glory, and pain. And we will fight yet again tomorrow. The Gryphon will return, and she will lead us. But for now my brothers and sisters... we have business ot attend to.

Sometimes, it is a good thing to not be remembered...
It leaves open doors that under other circumstances would remain closed...
Watching from a distant vantage point, her wolfguard surrounding her, Faile calls for her forces to attack, sporadically, and without a seeming rationale, but her idea is to stir up confusion to the physical realm with random charges so that the Riders will not know where to expect the next hit. "Confusion is quite often an open portal unto darkness, and I DO know my way through the Shadow Realms...", she muses.

But enough of that, Faile has been noticed...
It is time to shake off the offenders as like unto fleas...
The sorceress gathers her mental disciplines and begins her assault upon those who wouldst oppose her magicks...

"Old powers still come in handy, don't you think?", says Faile to herself,
as her wolves begin to howl in agreement...

My Demoness, there have been invaders in your lands..again. Came the voice of Kri'tigar. Her blood stained hand lifted, palm out. Staying any further words. Lips curled up into the riktus of a killers grin. Cold, without heart nor mercy. Her sword wetted with fresh blood already this day.

Before her lay a kingdom who had almost held her off. Drag the wounded from their beds, rip every man, woman and child from their homes and give them weapons. Tis war, my son. Glorious war.

She was the sort who found thrill in defending unto the death, and did so with vicious tenacity. Reports rolled in that one of the Riders had come for acres during the night. They were shredded and tossed aside. What was taken from her by more powerful and higher ranked heathen, she would replace with those heathens she could batter bloody. She also used her forces to weaken those heathen forces higher up.

Smirking as she turned to her son. Get them on their feet.. Striding ahead, vitae dripping from her. Wounded, as she was, yet delighting in each ounce of pain, each flicker of dispair in the eyes of her troops, in the cries of her enemies as they fell to her relentless blade.

Maver slams opens the door, the sweet coopery smell of blood permeates the room. Mistress, forgive the intrusion but I have urgent news from Archangel. The Riders have attacked! Eisheth has suffered the largest loss, several of the Riders joined together and attacked her. She lost everything. Your assistance is requested immediately.

Nahema turns from her worktable, her tongue caressing her own talon lapping up the gore stuck on the tip. A man lies unbound and naked upon the table, his eyes begging for what his voice can not. Eisheth will be fine of that I am sure. She'll bounce back and those who sought to destroy her will pay a price they have yet to understand. Nahema begins to don her battle gear.

Ready the men, we leave at the top of the hour. I need our most current reports on the Riders. Today we offer souls to Darden. A smile plays on her lips as she begins formulating her battle plan. Maver turns without a word and hobbles down the hall as fast as his decrepit legs can carry him, eager to see to his Mistresses orders.

We waited in the background, while looking over the protruding rock, the sorcerers were doing their jobs, but the scouts had had a time of it. But finally word was sent. I looked at my Battle Captains and nodded, we each knew that this may be the last time we met or see each other, not a word was said. We mounted our steeds and rode down at full gallop, we went through the heathen kingdoms with speed and swiftness. We could not Kill innocents no matter what faith, but if they had sword we ran them down.

After the initial attack, I rode to the battle Tent, where a messenger was waiting, "Sire, they are attempting to retaliate." I snarled, "Tell the sorcores to prepare the kingdom for attack!" He ran as though the demons of hell were on his tail.

I yelled for the Captains, "This kingdom has been defeated, it will be long time before the can rebuild anything from the ashes. We must ride home to defend our loved ones.!"
We mounted again, and I said to my steed, "make haste, your loved ones are endangered too!" Then we rode off into the night.

Nahema swings her sword and yet another body falls beneath its deadly arc. Blood mixes with her own rank sweat turning her normally pasty complexion a grisly crimson color. A twisted snarl fills her face and guttural growl emanates from deep within her throat. With every swing she feels her strength grow until there are no more standing before her. Turning quickly searching for the next victim she feels her spirits sag slightly as only her own colors surround her. It seems as if for now at least this kingdom is no more and Nahema wastes no time dawdling about.

Men, you have my leave to search through the dead and take what you can find in the next hand of time, then we leave for home. We must return to ensure the safety of our own.

She turns on her heel and heads toward her own mount, a spirited black stead that stands a good hand taller than any of her own men's horses. She found that riding with the men to and from battle somehow inspired them to fight better. There truly was nothing worse than a long trip home with an angry demoness and they would stop at nothing to keep that from happening. Therefore they fight fierce as dragons in the rut to keep her happy. She stops at the edge of the grisly battlefield long enough to tear a tunic from a dead soldier's body. Turning it inside out she cleans the worst of the gore off her bloody blade and discards the rag. Reaching her horse she opens a small pouch and pulls out her oil and a clean cloth and begins to clean her sword properly.

She finishes the job and looks up to find most of her men have mounted their horses and await their Mistress’ commands. Captain, send a messenger to the Archangel to report our victory here tonight and find out if there are any other special orders that need our attention, otherwise we shall endeavor a repeat performance tomorrow eve.

She leaps atop her mount and spurs him forward seemingly in one fluent motion, signaling the men to begin the long journey home, wondering what they might find there.

The first thing I noticed was the quiet. The halls of the mountain kingdom of Copperhead were usually filled with a cacophonous din, yet today the only sound to be heard was that of the Gatekeeper's quill scratching a new entry into the log - that entry being of my own arrival. 'The Gate' was a bit of a misnomer, since in truth it was a 20 foot teleportation circle carved into the granite floor. Ever since the repulsion of the Riders armies, the Gate had become the only way to enter the kingdom without the aid of some form of powerful personal magics. This was due to the fact that the repulsion of the invaders had taken the form of dropping millions of tons of rocks on their heads as they stormed the main entrance to the kingdom. I suppose it was strategically effective to destroy the only mundane entrance, but somewhat bad for commerce. My hands automatically went through the motions of rolling and lighting up a cigarette as a finely dressed quasit approached and bowed to me slightly.

"My Lord Cadmiel, it's good of you to come so quickly. As you no doubt already know, we have a bit of an administrative problem once again."

This slight-of-stature quasit was the Vizier. His robes looked oversized on his tiny frame, but this was a rarely noticed detail, since he filled the room by sheer power of presence. People found themselves shrinking downwards when talking to him, trying to become level with his intense 3-foot high stare.

"Don't call me Lord. What's the problem? I can't imagine it's the cave-in of the main tunnel; you could handle that yourself."

"Indeed I could, sir. In fact, I rather prefer being shut in; it's cut down the amount of paperwork I have to go through in a day to a fraction of what it was. The problem is that of the army."

"They're having trouble?"

"Quite the contrary. The majority of the legions, including Captain Detritus, were outside when we collapsed the tunnels. Since at the time we did not have a magical Gate set up, Detritus elected to pursue the enemy."

"And they were successful?"

"Oh yes, quite. Since I've been unfortunately occupied with homeland security, however, there was no strategic advisor of any, shall we say... great mental acumen... with the armies."

"That doesn't seem to be that bad of a problem, so long as they've been winning."

"It is a problem when no one is there to tell them 'Stop,' sir."

"Ah."

"Yes. As of last contact, they had taken some 30,000 acres of enemy territory and were still advancing. This is a bit of a problem, when the entirety of the army is at the front line, and none are working at holding what we have."

"Uh huh. So, what do you need me to do?"

"As was the case before, we need you to act as an interim Captain of Defense, until my lord Detritus returns from his advance. Of course, I cannot say when exactly that will be, other than 'when he gets tired of it'. Full Captain's privileges and pay, of course."

"Sounds good to me. To begin with, I'll need some horses and a company of mages of at least the 3rd Order."

"Riding basilisks can easily be provided, sir. If I may be so bold, may I ask as to what your plans are?"

"We obviously can't defend all that land, especially if we're anticipating the acquisition of more soon. So - we have to burn what we can't keep."

"Ah, I see sir. If I may impose, I'd like to make one request. Before you burn any farmland, please take as many crops and livestock as you can. As nice as it is to be cut off from the outside world, I'm getting rather tired of cave tubers."