Battle of Dagjvamzha

Setting

General Thfidr, Phor of the Sukeke, has seized the opperunity. The city of Vkriodro has sent away a third of the city's defences to help Tkeze eight days march to the south. With his seige equipment and ten thousand army of Vshawen phora and even a handful of phori, it would take only three days to take the city. She would have the city, a defensive choke point her spies assured her would turn the tide of war. She would show the other Phor her worth and become a part of the super colony.

Swift Loss

The standing capitan Thktz of the Koel was not prepared for the assult. It did not take the three days his attendents assured him, but one night. The had no warning of the assult, and one guard had left the front gate ajar for a friend to go on some excursion that would never be heard from again. The city swiftly became overrun, wards shattered, walls crumbled, and homes burned. No one was ready, and all fighting fell back to the keep.

Without command or structure, doors were barracated, wards were brought up haphazardly, and the few remaining mental blockers worked on the brink of death to keep any psycic attacks at bay while they collected. Much of theirs supplies had been burned, a three day seig had turned into but one. They had no means to communicate outward, all far-flame were destroyed mysteriously and all mental efforts would need to be dedicated to defense. Thktz was not among those who remained, a quiet panic sweped through as thoughts of the worst nearly passed lips. The remaing soldiers and civilians huddled in quiet dark, waiting for the invaderst to break through.

Hope

Dagjvamzha, a newly matured Roqbherg who suddenly found himself without family, took up the role of militant leader of the few dozen. No one protested the sudden and frighteningly unwarrented confidence. There wasn't much he could do beyond keeping moral up, so he did. With quiet pats and words of hope on the horizon, he had formed a small army ready to die for their home. The doors began to be battered, the wards started to fail, the psychics began to bleed from their eyes. Just when all hope seemed lost, Dagjvamzha found reached out and grabbed it, a Trivis in the form of a far-flame. He could call for help!

With renewed purpose, wards were repaired, furniture was sacrifiesed for blockades, and new psychics were found to work in shifts. By sunrise, the south-bound army had returned, driving the invaders from their home. The fifty six emerged from the keep, ragged and breathless. The morning air had never felt so sweet. The town elected to change its name to the brave soldier whos indomindable will transcended time and space to save them all.