"After the Fall" Murderhobos Inc. || Alternis

The sound of battle reverberated in the woods around the old fort, penetrating the cool night air with muffled yells and steel upon steel. Five figures sat around a fire, a crude map sprawled out between them upon an overturned crate. Speaking in hushed tones they pointed here and there on the map, drawing and marking positions and formations. A small cloaked figure dropped out of the trees and approached the group. “Report” barked the heavily armored man, not bothering to look back at the scout. “Beta and Omega squads encountered enemy lookouts to the north and south but nothing they couldn't handle. Interior defenses appear to be sparse, with little ranged defense along the walls.” “They make too much noise. They now know we're here and will be ready for us. Where did we get this last regiment from?” Questioned the man. “Goodwill sir” he stuttered before quickly regaining composure “you know how hell bent on revenge some of the youth were after the razing of their home by these bastards.” Said the scout back, with the same look or determination in his eyes. “True, but we'd be better off with barking gnolls than this lot. What I wouldn't do for just a few pairs of the older guard.” He sighed. “Len, have your group help finish off the survivors and place our men in position around the fort. We're going to have to go with plan C to flush out these desert rats,” Said the general, finally looking up at the scout. “Make sure they don't go dashing off like some mad adventurer in pursuit of glory, kicking down doors and throwing shit into pits. I want them all coming back from this. Good scouts are hard to come by, and we can't make this batch any better if they're feeding the carrion crows.” “Aye sir” said Len as he leapt into the tress. A subtle bird call could be heard, answered by two more among the woods. The man spoke to the group. “Alright boys this is it. Kronk and Plauk ready the ram. Biggsly and Wedgreth will follow with your men, hitting the outlying buildings.” Pointing at points on the map. “Taika and her party will follow up the rear. Protect them as much as you focus on our goal. Healers are hard enough to come by and it'd be a waste to lose some of ours here.” He knew that last part was unnecessary. Skilled druids were a lot tougher than their small frames suggested. He rolled up the map and put it in it's case and handed it off to a young squire. The man stood, his armor glinting the the light of the fire. The plate was sturdy and worn, yet held an air about it that it was much, much older than those assembled here. Ashur's armor hung on him like a second skin, barely changed since he liberated it in the prison so long ago. The helm was slightly odd, just as old of a style but something about it confounded the eyes, as if it held some power of its own. His dark hair and keen elf like features could be seen peeking out of the helm, seemingly young looking for one with such heavy burdens. His gauntlets too were enhanced, a crimson ruby worked into both, a fist and hammer some how part of the gems. Along his sides hung an ancient long sword with a history longer than most adventurers lives and a short crossbow, a much more refined piece than the standard issue arms of the common soldiers lining the camp. Across his back his shield hung, an odd black thing glinting in the moonlight, ominous as the slain foe that had set him on this current path. At his side head-side down stood a large, dark shafted hammer. The head of the maul appeared to be formed of a cool gray metal, with silver veins of metal running through it creating a simple pattern starting from the shaft. Bands of red leather seemed to bind and adorn the shaft, much more worn looking than the rest of the weapon. Grabbing it with one hand the general nimbly picked it up and slung it over his shoulder, a motion so fluid it seemed to be more an extension of his body than a tool of war. Kronk and Plauk, the two towering half-orc shield-breakers stood and lumbered over to the tents, strapping on their red leather amour and serrated great swords to their backs, if you could call them swords. Giant things, more slabs of metal than proper swords, lined with jagged edges and old blood. Adorning their armor were trinkets of the battles they had fought, a bracelet of dwarf bones here, skin of what might have been a panther there, a rabbits skull hanging from ones belt.... Don't ask about the rabbits, that was one debacle of a hunting trip. Among the trinkets an emblem was affixed to their chest, a small red hammer and fist reminiscent of their commanders own. All the men in his retinue bore his mark. From behind the tents they grabbed a large battering ram, heavy headed with the face of an ogre but simply crafted, borne from a fallen tree of this very wood. Biggsly stretched and smiled, his scale mail glinting. He carried a small war hammer and shield, sturdy but of normal make. A holy symbol hung from his neck, and many potions lined his belt. The one thing he had learned from his commander after joining this campaign was that you could never have enough potions. “Your spells may fail you but a potion never will.” was one of the more annoying but nonetheless true things he had learned back in the order from his commander. Ivy ran along his gear, seeming to hold together where leather normally would. His dark eyes and strong elfish features stood out against his light blonde hair, seemingly setting him higher than even the commander he followed. Wedgreth cracked his knuckles and chuckled, standing as high his as his generals chest. Body bound in what seemed to be straps of leather the dwarf looked up at the full moon and began to check his equipment. Short swords? Check. Crossbows? Check. Poison?Check. Dagger? Check. Hidden dagger? Check. Other hidden dagger?..... The list went on. Lets just saw he always comes prepared. Wearing a dark cloak similar to the scouts he pulled the hood over his white hair and dark skin. Small lines ran over the exposed skin of his hands and head, deadly reminders of those who though they had the better of the “little” dwarf. With the workings of a well run dwarven clock the men broke camp and set off towards the fort, the general at the head of the group with the orcs, Biggsly and his group of soldiers forming ranks around Taika and two other druids. Wedgreth and his men followed along the treeline, making sure Len and his green scouts didn't miss anything. Coming up to the heavy doors of the old fort, the general paused. Maybe this time would be different. Good men might not have to lose their lives to this madness. He stepped forward and spoke with a clear, loud voice. “Dogs of the dessert, bearers of the false red and followers of the false king listen now. Lay down your arms and surrender and your fates may be spared our blades. Fight, and not one of you shall live to return to your holes in the sand. For I, Alternis, the Crimson Fist of the West and the Light of Judgment is here before you, and as the stories truly tell, am not one to be trifled with.” As if in answer to his entente two arrows sang through the night, trying to find home in Alternis. They glanced off his armor, the man seemingly disinterested in their presence and the fate of those who had answered him. At the same moment two short yelps were heard followed by two bodies falling from the walls of the fort, dragged down and into the woods by thin ropes tied to the arrows embedded in their chests. These scouts weren't all garbage thought Alternis, and without a second thought, as if they even could form a first really, Kronk and Plauk raised the ram and with a rage rarely seen and remembered by any living mortal took to the gate like a hot knife through butter. Biggs and Wedge followed in on the motion, Alternis hanging back just long enough to provide cover for the last of his men entering the fort. Stepping inside he quickly surveyed his surroundings. Small buildings were placed throughout the main yards, an inn here, stables there, blacksmith to the side. Towards the back lay the barracks, the most likely place their target would be. Their intelligence on this place was indeed solid. He'd have to remember to thank Dustmaker's men for even finding information on this place. Rhexus' men had done much to remove information of all their hidey holes, military installations and supply points in the West. So much so even scum like Hatchet could run their business in broad daylight right under their noses. Speaking of Hatchet... The sounds of battle rang out as small humanoid figures leapt from the shadows. Goblins. Great he thought, at least his tricks haven't changed after all these years. Dropping the ram upon entry, Kronk and Plauk pulled out their swords and roared, startling a few goblins. Well they would have been startled if they hadn't been sliced in two by the force of the twin orcs' blades. Following their lead Biggs pushed forward, hammer and shield ringing in the moonlight against goblin skulls. Wedge just vanished, ghosting among the enemy forces, dropping foes before they even felt his blade in their backs. Moving forward though the town Alternis encountered little resistance, the bodies of a few Eastern soldiers laid out among the buildings, Wedge's tell tale crossbow bolts in an eye here, a throat there. Small, but deadly indeed. Just don't call him that... Coming upon the barracks there was an eerie silence, the sound of battle more of a lovely melody in the background of Alternis' mind. Kneeling down he touched the ground, letting his divine sense spread out around him. Nothing. That was good at least. As strong as his unit was, he didn't believe they were yet ready for the horrors that he'd seen that would set his sense off. Smelling them before he heard them, Kronk and Plauk came up behind him. “These squishies no fun. Not worth me walk so far.” whined Kronk. “Not even that tastee.” burped Plauk. Alternis eyed the duo, covered in goblin blood and a few stray arrows that seemed to be more decoration in their hides than anything that could cause them harm. Plauk was chewing on what was left of an arm, both their massive blades covered with gore. Alternis looked back to the barracks and reached for the double doors, pulling them open with authority. Looking inside he saw the dark lines of a seemingly empty room, until it was pierced by a low laugh. “Muaha ha hack.” coughed the voice. “I was hoping you'd come to this place. Luring you out this far took some doing, but providing my master with the perfect opportunity to remove your head was well worth it. We have many losses to avenge against you and your bloody crusade.” Realizing too late who the speaker was Alternis dropped his maul and threw his shield forward, barely protecting himself from the wall of wind rendering him asunder. He flew back 20 feet past Kronk and Plauk and with an agility belying his massive form managed to contort his form into a roll than back spring onto his feat. Wasting no time the figured stepped out, a robed figure carrying a short staff and a sword. Muttering in some forgotten tongues he aimed his implements at the duo and let loose blasts of fire and lightning that smashed into the pair. Kronk and Plauk staggered and dropped, flesh burnt and torn from the deadly magics. They tried to stand, but the mages attacks were of a level they had yet to face. Wasting no time Alternis' eyes grew radiant, his mind and chanting focused on the symbols on his hands and those of his men. He raised his hands then slammed them down, an angelic form radiating from him and doing the same. What appeared to be Kronk and Plauk's souls were ripped out by the angel, then slammed back into their chests. Wounds closed and vigor renewed, the two roared in defiance back at the mage. “Hmph. Twas merely a flesh wound.” Barked Alternis at the mage. “You really don't want to make them angry.” And with that he grabbed his crossbow and let loose a bolt. Mid-chant into his next deadly volley, the arrow slammed into the mage's arm and caused him to drop his blade. Before Alternis could reload the mage planted his staff and brought up a shield just in time to deflect the arrows flying from the shadows on his left side. “Wedge report” “Courtyard clear, although a few rats are still slinking about.” Came Wedges voice from some shadows to the right. “I thought they were supposed to be a challenge this time?” “Challenge?” Laughed the figure. “I'll show you a challenge mortal. I'll lay upon you such pain that every breath will feel like breathing in fire and exhaling ash!” There was a deep rumbling and hum of magic in the air as body parts from the fallen soldiers rose then began to coalesce in front of them. The form of a grotesque man arose, eyes brilliant blue and face oddly familiar. It grabbed his fallen maul, and roared an unearthly roar. “I believe you remember our good old friend Marrik. He would so love for you to join him in his living hell.” Cackled the man as he backed into the barracks. More arrows flew from the shadows, sinking into the golem's flesh but hardly seeming to phase it. Kronk and Plauk raged out, and charged in a pincer formation at the beast. Alternis re-slung his shield on his back and pulled out the Sword of Athena. Bringing it low before he too charged the beast. The golem parried Kronk's blow with the maul as Plauk sank his sword into the golem's side. Unfazed the golem grabbed Plauk by the head and slammed him into Kronk, knocking both prone and weaponless. More arrows flew into the beast's back and legs, and Alternis leaped at the beast, a holy aura surrounding him as he sunk his sword into him, an angelic blade following suit. The beast roared, the very air vibrating and throwing off the aim of two more arrows. The golem slammed the maul down on Alternis, who was able to release his sword in time and manage to only take a glancing blow from the beast. Landing by the fallen orcs' weapons, Alternis looked up as the beast readied another attack. Smiling a dark smile, Alternis' mind briefly went back to many years past in the southern swamps. A bright light surrounded him, his angel forming almost an outer shell. He grabbed the hilts of the fallen breakers swords, bringing them up in a cross to block the incoming blow. Unhindered, the golem roared again and redoubled its attack. His next blow stuck the ground in a cloud of mist where the paladin once stood. Wedge looked up towards the moon, but instead of her full silver face he saw Alternis' form solidify from mist above the beast, and with a form and ferocity he had only heard in legend, slam into the beasts back. Moving with elvish grace Alternis sunk the first blade into it's back, and with the ease of playing with a child's wooden sword brought the second across it's neck, beheading it. He hopped back and with a full 360* motion brought both blades into it's side, bisecting it into a mound a useless flesh. Wedge dashed from the shadows towards the head, brandishing his swords and slicing out the deadly blue from it's skull. The hum of magic in the air vanished. He looked towards the barracks but there was no sign of the mage. Alternis dropped the blades, and as they clattered to the ground he dropped to one knee, aura fading from him. Breathing heavy, he surveyed the mess in from of him. “Oi, I haven't had to pull that off in a while. Too bad Krauk wasn't here to see me do that.” He snickered, grabbing his maul and sword from the gore. He stood, and looked towards the brothers. Kronk and Plauk looked at him in mixed awe, almost as if they didn't believe what they just saw. They picked up their blades then looked at Alternis, then back to the blades, then back to him, still confused. “Dolts. If you think that was something you should see your Warchief in action. What you should aspire to be. My form is just a mimicry of his. He's the one who killed the dragon..”
------------------------------------------- Alternis' mind wandered back through the years, back to that night on the tower. After they had re-pledged their fealty to Draxus there was much that needed to be done. After restoring themselves from the hard fought battle Alternis agreed to follow Krauk back into the South to reunify his people. Scattered as they were, they were a powerful force against Rhexus' plans. And there were the desert faction already in the East, already entrenched and moving about that harsh terrain. After much convincing that the Crimson knights who murdered the previous Warchief were a better alternative to what Rhexus had in mind, some order was restored in the south. Alternis, still in awe of Krauk's form in their previous battles convinced Krauk to teach him the ways of his fighting style. And by convinced he was convinced in the form of some rotting meat and shit smeared gold. Or well at least it looked like gold. And a dead mouse. While the form seemed easy for him to mimic, being able to hit or hurt anything with larger weapons was beyond Alternis' power. And Krauk was still holding back. Krauk laughed ”Puny half-elf, no fight like my people. Our children have bigger arms then yous.” Krauk was right, he was puny half-elf. Strong, but nothing like the strength of an orc. Alternis being Alternis still snapped back. “Even you couldn't fight like your people until you got the tattoos. By being a dolt DRINKING the poison. I'm surprised you've made it this far.” Laughing back Krauk retorted “True, but you still puny elf.” Flexing his muscles while effortlessly holding two training axes they've been using to spar with. His tattoos running along his massive back, darker than the last time he'd seen them. Staring at the hulking mass of orc in front of him something finally clicked in Alternis' mind. Grabbing a training maul in each hand he looked at Krauk and smiled, channeling his angel through his puny muscles. A dull aura began to form around him. Krauk smiled back. “Finally.” He said as he raised his axes back towards his friend. That's when the sparring began in earnest...
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Snapping back to the present, Alternis surveyed the courtyard and remains of the tragic beast as Biggs came running from behind. “I got here as soon as..” he stopped short and surveyed the mess “ I could. Dammit captain, you could leave a little fun for the rest of us.” Without missing a beat he smiled up at the young elf. “Your report?” “Fort's cleared. None captured, the goblins obviously wouldn't surrender but even the men fought to their last. We found this symbol on a few of them and a tattoo on another.” He handed him a symbol identical to the one the Lianna gave him so long ago. “The scouts saw a couple of their lot bolt, but per your orders we let a few escape to tell the tale. Your showboating gives them way too much intel. Sir.” “True, but spread their fear and hopefully we can avoid more bloodbaths like this one. We're here to crush Rhexus' forces, not annihilate every man,woman, child and salt the earth behind us. That's his job.” Hiding a grimace. He walked towards the barracks and bent over, picking up the blade. Odd symbols danced on it, nothing he could make out. Putting it in his bag, he motioned for Kronk and Plauk to guard the door as Biggs and Wedge followed him inside. Pulling out a small round device Alternis spoke a word, and a light in it spun and pointed to the right. Heading that way through the cluster of furniture in what could have been a mess hall they stopped in front of a room. Opening the door inside Alternis came upon four frightened children, bound and gagged, surrounded by a crude circle. Bending over and looking one of the children in the eyes he said. “This is why I'm here.”
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The aftermath of the campaign was the usual affair. Scouts sent out to report success back to the capital, wounds tended, bodies burned. All the bodies were of the enemies his time... Some had laughed at him as their mission seemed to contradict it, but he had insisted on the druids coming along his ranks. Partially to help convince any other magic users to what they were doing, but in part to keep losses to a minimum. Sacrifice was good and all, but so was fighting to live another day, and his pocket healers made that possible. No need for these young men and women to relive the mistakes of his own bloody enlistment. Hopefully at the end of all this there wouldn't be a need. There was no sign of the mage, and after a thorough inspection of the fort no hidden links to the serpentine road. At least they didn't have to worry about that here... Agreeing that this was a strategic point form which to lead further campaigns, Alternis and his lieutenants decided to have their forces occupy the fort. Workers were brought in from the nearby town, and Wedge was left in charge to command the scouts and foot-soldiers left there. Plenty of traders came through these parts, and among them many whom Wedge's “talents” could uncover more Eastern influence. Taika and her druids took care of the children, and along with Kronk and Plauk, headed back to the capitol. Their talents too dangerous out here, at least in the capitol they'd keep their heads. Maybe. Still, it was better than being fodder for Rhexus' army... After setting the affairs for the fort in order Alternis headed out along with Biggsly and 2 scouts along the road back to Pike. The trek wasn't as dangerous as it had once been, the renewed Crimson Fist putting some order back to the roads. Veering off the main road as they approached the doomed town, they came upon a river and then a cabin in a clearing. Entering the abode, through a seemingly normal door, Alternis was finally at ease, stripping off his armor and weapons and placing them in their respective stands. He pulled out too mugs, and filled them with beer from a barrel in the kitchen. He handed one to Biggs and took a strong pull from his own. He sat down in a well worn chair and took another sip. “I still don't get why you love this place.” Biggs quipped, the two of them alone in the home, the scouts outside patrolling the area and honing their skills. It had taken some time, but Alternis had managed over the years to bring the place back to a more semblance of its former self. Not as lived in, not as much love, but back to a proper home. The heavy wooden table was about all that was left of the original set up, still in the center of the main room covering a rug... Maps of the kingdom adorned the walls, although oddly missing were any trophies from the battles fought so far. “It's simple really, just like you Biggs.” Alternis teased his apprentice. Not following his same path but still following the faith. Biggs was a good soldier, although the wood-elf had some odd habits. “This spot is strategically located. Pike is not a place to be left unobserved, even with all our gains these last few years. You know only a piece of what we're truly fighting for” Standing up, he walked over to and looked out a window towards a hill marked with 3 stones. “And for what we brought upon these places and those who lived here, we are not about to forget. Ever.” And if Biggs were closer he would of seen not Alternis' reflection in the glass of the window, but of his angel of vengeance, burning fiercely. And if he looked closer he might of seen a tear run down it's face, but that would have been impossible. Angels don't cry.