• Event • [Global Event] Battle To The Tomb of Treid

[Jade]

S T A N D I N GT R I A L S

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G L O B A L E V E N T

TREID'S HEART

20th Trial of Vhalar, Arc 716

Beyond the portal in Oscillus stood Qylios and Xiur, weapons drawn and prepared to attack any who came through the portal to seek harm upon them or the humans they'd enlisted in their fight. Each time a group would come through, they would direct them to three areas. One area contained a small structure where it appeared wounded individuals were being kept and cared for. The second area was by the entrance to this camp where it was being heavily guarded and defended while the third and final area led to the back of the camp that was a short distance away from the walls of Treidhart. Even from this distance, one could see tall giants battling shadows and Naerikk alike. It was a scene to behold and not one most people would be able to take in lightly.
“Divide yourselves into a section,” Qylios told calmly, “Either help heal the injured, defend the walls of the city, or help push back the invasion and get us into Treid's tomb. Make your choice and help out where you're needed till the rest of your comrades arrive.”

[Vluharqih]

CREDIT

Alex was among the first arrivals, having made it through just after Faldrun had appeared. Greeted on the other side by the Immortal, she quickly made her choice and headed off towards the tents.

Once inside she looked around for the doctor overcoats, and found them piled up in the corner. She touched the tent with her cloak, colouring the fabric. The fewer that knew what her cloak did, the better. Pulling the jacket on over her cloak, she stopped a nurse rushing by.

"Where do you need me. I know how to stitch and I'm a good hand with medicines."

The nurse let out an exasperated sigh, jerking her head to get Alex to follow her. "This way. We've got dozens wounded on beds over here, take your pick." With that she rushed off, leaving Alex to figure it out.

Alex cast her eyes about the room, not seeing any sort of triage or system for giving the patients beds. It was crowded, full and chaotic. Throwing her hands up in exasperation, she knelt beside the first bed. "Hey, I'm here to help. What's wrong?" She asked as she quickly scanned him for injuries.

He opened his eyes, his right hand latching out to grab at her coat lapels. "H-Help. Can't.. can't breathe," he gasped out.

Quickly, Alex felt for his pulse. Weak and irregular; she needed to work fast. She put her head to his chest, listening to his lungs. They both appeared fine, and she heard no sound of liquid sloshing about. She rolled him on his side, but saw no evidence of anything wrong on his back. She was at a loss- what to do? This was something she had never seen before. Usually trouble breathing meant trouble in the lungs, and she forced herself to stop.

She ignored the gasps beside her and the hand that held on with the strength of the dead, and asked him another question. "Where does it hurt? I need something more."

Another couple of shuddered breaths as the man gripped at his left shoulder, relaxing as the final gasp of air left his lungs. Alex cursed, setting his hand back on his chest as she stood. Whatever it was, she got here too late. This wasn't a well run place, and it had way too many patients for the number of doctors here.

With a sigh, she moved over to the next bed, ready to help out however she could.

[Quio]

Treidhart, Oscillus

Cold. Cold cold cold. He had heard of Oscillus but only in vague mentions; he had never been, never even come close. Most people didn't.

Now he knew why.

Shuddering, Quio stumbled his way out of the gate, arms wrapped tight around Jack in his jacket to keep them both warm. The little dog was shivering, shivering terribly, and he realized he was too. "S-S-Shyke," he said, bare fingers contracting into fists. First Ne'haer, now this. Reliving all of his --ahem-- warmest memories. His mother's murder. And afterwards he had lived alone out in the cold. It had been a terrible winter.

This was worse.

The portal was guarded by two of the immortals, the two he thought of as the warriors, and he struggled past them. The woman was speaking; something about choosing a position. For him the healing tents were right out; he had absolutely no skill. Guarding or fighting it would be.

Still, he wandered towards the tents, plucking his rucksack out from under the shield that was slung over his back and then leaning down, encouraging Jack to lay on the bag as a buffer from the elements, setting it nearby one of the low-burning camp fires. "S-Stay," he told her, and she huffed out a visible fog of breath into the icy air, but didn't move. He hoped her ears and nose and paws wouldn't freeze. He hoped his wouldn't either.

The sound of distant battle had him twitching, and he quickly collected what information he could about the others he cared for: Lei'lira, Faith, Tristan. Making sure they had made it through the portal. Seeing which areas they were going to help in.

Then he set his face, unsheathed both dagger and sword, the sword in his dominant right hand, and jogged off, puffing out cold breaths, heading towards the fray.

---

It was a numbing sight, despite how numb from cold he already felt. For a long few trills, but what felt longer still, Quio hovered on the edge of the battle, trying to make sense of it all, trying to find his place in it.

There was just so much.

Giants. There were giants. Eight feet tall, grey-skinned, dressed in ice armor and wielding ice magic.

Shadowbeasts. An intruding thought-- What if he was possessed again? He reminded himself that he couldn't let fear stop him. Like the immortal had said.

And warrior-women. Cruel and beautiful. Flashy hair colors. Skilled in combat; perhaps more so than the giants. Fast. Light. Deadly.

The shadowbeasts and warrior-women seemed to be fighting together. He thought the giants were on his side.

And then there was no more time for staring. Ahead. Someone in trouble.

Quio steeled himself and rushed forward to help. Fumbling with cold hands.

The dagger he used to slash through a shadowbeast, easy, before slipping the weapon back to his belt. As he moved, he tugged the shield off his back, and hooked it over his arm.

Then gave a proper sprint forward, and promptly battered into one of a pair of warrior-women who were double-teaming a female ice giant.

The warrior he'd bashed into knocked back and lost her footing, surprised. She stumbled. Just for a moment.

Quick as the swing of an ax. Another ice giant had seen her fall. She was on the ground for perhaps a trill; dead a trill after that.

In the meantime the warrior's partner had turned towards Quio to attack.

He turned and she was already there; he barely got the shield up in place to deflect her blows. She thundered into him, knocking him back in turn, and then suddenly she was
gone-- run through from behind by the female giant's sword. Between the ribs. The warrior fell to the ground, choking.

But there was no sense of victory or relief. Or regret. No time for that. Already there were shadowbeasts nearby, forming out of the mist.

Together, Quio and the giants made quick work of them. That at least he could do.

For some reason, but it didn't make any sense-- the shadowbeasts didn't seem to see him.

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Faith Augustin]

Heal, defend or attack. Those were the options laid out before her and here, in the cold, Faith knew immediately what she had to do. She had to move forward, to push, to be part of the attack into the tomb. She could have worked in the medical tent, but there were others there, she could stay and defend, but she figured that right now the only thing that would make a long term difference was the rush forward into the tomb. Because that was the goal and it was likely to be the most dangerous, too, she considered. So, there was no choice for her because as soon as she thought about it, the choice was already made. Simple, straightforward, she made the decision and she stared at the scene before her with wide, terrified eyes. "Famula save us all", she whispered.

She had her gladius, wore her armour and had her wits about her. With a prayer for the safety of her owner, of Padraig and Aeon, Ruq and Symbri and every other one here, Faith took her step which spoke of her choice. To the tomb.

In the meantime, though, they were to help until the rest arrived, and help she did. She went into the third area, the one where the entrance to the tomb was and she immediately moved to join in the fray. There were things to kill and, as she sliced at one of the shadow beasts, Faith could not help but wonder how it was that they didn't seem to be seeing her.

How strange. Maybe the Immortal who had touched her cheek had done something, or even it was a blessing from Famula? Whatever it was, however it happened, Faith was thankful for it and did her best to be as effective as possible in the movement towards the tomb.

[Symbri]

Vhalar, 716

\Stepping out of the portal, Symbri found herself standing in a frozen world of white. And perhaps if she'd not witnessed the destruction of her home, she could have appreciated it, as it was all she felt was anger and sorrow, in some ways it was relieving, she didn't have much to turn back to now, she only had forward to go, and if that was all she had, then she'd make it entirely her own, the future would be hers, and anyone who got in her way was collateral, her current goals were fairly simple, defeat the shadows, avenge Ne'haer, and maybe if she survived that, she'd settle down... no she'd definitely survive.

Looking to the two immortals who stood vigil over the portal Symbri Bowed.

"My home is gone now.... I've nothing to lose, so I'll be on the frontlines, I hope that Ne'haer's Sacrifice isn't in vain...."

Wiping her final tear from her eye she looked to the immortal of courage and the immortal of hope.

"I pray that you two will be watching over me"

With that the Girl set off towards the frontlines. her soul lit ablaze with righteous fury she entered the fray, among giants and familiar faces there were shadows and warrior women battling it was like a scene out of some storytellers greatest yarn, and yet, there she was among them, however their was no time for day dreaming on the frontline a spear held by a Nearik warrior was aimed at her and the woman holding it looked quite intent to skewer her with it. When the woman attacked Symbri Danced to the side watching at the woman over extend thinking her an easy mark for stabbing. To take a moment to pause and think was impossible, reacting on instinct after numerous battles Symbri stepped into the foe hooking the back of her leg around the woman's calf, and with the rest of her forward momentum she grabbed the woman's throat and forcefully trppied her slamming her head into the jagged frozen earth. The woman's head thudded into the ground with a sickening thud, a soft sound escaped the woman's mouth like a surprised gasp but then she was silent.

looking at her fallen foe, the first thing Symbri noticed was the red that soaked the white ground. The woman she'd fought bled! the woman's blood was on her hand, and on the ground! She'd defeated many shadows... but they didn't bleed! She'd never killed anything that could bleed before, and the revelation was mortifying, she'd killed another person, someone who could feel, could think, not some mindless beast.

Falling to her knees Symbri wretched into the snow, sullying the ground with acidic bile and tears. She... she was a killer now, she'd killed someone, she... she didn't want to kill anyone, and yet, blind in her rage she'd just taken a life. As the chilling winds screamed and the howls of warriors and beasts surrounded her Symbri finally understood what it was to go to war, and it sickened her.

Shakily standing Symbri wiped her mouth and began her slow walk towards the frontlines where they'd shifted in the giants favor. Stained with blood the girl was no longer ablaze with righteous fury, but numb in the acceptance to the fact that to win, she'd have to become one of the monsters she abhorred, she'd have to take more lives.

letting out a battlecry Symbri forced her thoughts to submerge. She couldn't waste anymore time on petty thoughts, Treids tomb was in sight, but between her and it was a legion of foes to be slain.

"ONWARD! FOR NE'HAER, FOR TREID, FOR GLORY!"

Letting loose a wild rallying cry Symbri submitted to the madness that had been developing in her since her home had been attacked, now that she'd accepted that killing was necessary, the last stitch in the seem containing her second half was torn wide open, and all that was left was a warrior, the dancer lost in memories of peaceful times. A harsh grin spread across her face her white teeth bearing in a feral expression, Her next foe was another Nearikk lost in bloody battle with a giant, Flanking her she launched a kick into her enemies jaw dazing them, and giving the Giant time to fell the warrior with a crushing blow to the head.

Her responsibility for another death wasn't so significant to the new Symbri, baptized in blood she strode into battle ready to face shadows Naerikks and if need be, an immortal, death might await her, but death awaited everyone.

[Maltruism]

Xiur stepped out onto the icy terrain of Oscillus, the portal still swirling behind him. As the Lord of Hope, he was stricken with the cruel irony that he was losing so much of it himself. After the meeting in Ne'Haer, he had only barely recovered the power he'd expended on the trip there from Etzos. He'd been gratified to hear of a seven break delay in continuing with logistics and strategies.

He was glad to see Ethelynda recovering from her burns and bruises, sustained in fighting Faldrun during the Fire Lord's ambush on the Anari River. It gave him cause to think he could go back out and once again expend effort to rescue the trapped and clear enough rubble for defenders to more effectively muster where they were needed at a moment's notice.

Once again, his ability to spread hope was taxed among the Ne'Haerans surviving the horrible attacks of the shadow beasts. He saw positive effect, and was reassured. But found himself weary as time for the follow-up meeting approached. He had been hearing moans and cries behind him the entire walk back from the perimeter of the battle to the Judgment Halls. He knew he would need to save some power for the upcoming battle, so he had to feed on his own hope that these courageous defenders would handle it.

But as he reached the doors to the Hall, knowing himself to be just a little late, the random moans and gasps behind him, lost almost as scenery to his mind, suddenly burst in hysterical shrieks and screams of horror. It shamed him to find himself sagging for even a half tick, with a thought of 'what now?' But as he turned to see the tell-tale fire and smoke of aukari aggression, fury bloomed in his heart.

Maybe they would ultimately lose this battle; maybe it would be in Oscillus, '...or maybe it will be right here.' he growled inwardly as he stepped back into the fray to deliver walls of freezing clouds in and on the paths of aukari invaders. Their susceptibility to cold made them shrieking victims of this cold damage. He then ran down to the defenders, bestowing this ability to several of them as well, telling them to "Spread the Word".

He knew there would not be time to summon the meteor shower that would have brought ruin upon the aukari, but there was time to summon a construct of the constellation "The Lurker". This massive, entity of pure, hardened starlight would be immune to the fire damages the aukari would be trying to add to the general damage of their weapons. And the damage would not truly harm the creatures ability or will to fight, but only slowly reduce its size. He instructed it to destroy only the hot fighters.

His recall of the meeting was piqued by the sound of Faldrun's voice, back at the Hall. He turned in a new resolve and charged back, not using any more power to hasten his steps. He knew he was going to need it all in Oscillus. The mortals stepping out onto the frozen lands of the Ellune would need all the hope he could spare. He owed it to them. He could not recall ever being so spent in use of his domain, but he knew he could do more.

It grieved him to leave these defenders behind, but he had done what he could for them. The truth was, he worried that he would not have as much now to give for the fighters in Oscillus. He charged into the Hall, seeing pandemonium and carnage. Looking up, he saw Ilaren and Faldrun battling overhead, bringing collateral rubble raining death upon the stragglers cowering against the walls. He made a last gesture, throwing a cushioning cloud overhead that helped a little to slow the fall of ruined stonework.

He waved a few mortals through the portal and then went himself...

Now he stood, partially doubled over in exhaustion. Upon arriving on the tundra, he quickly cast his clouds and shadows of both invigoration and hope on the allies, and demoralization upon the foes. It was a wide reach, and taxed him beyond his already spent state. And seeing a few shivering nearby, he put an aura of Warming Trend around the place where the portal opened. He knew that the cold would be quickly be forgotten by these mortals, once they started swinging and dodging blades.

He had plenty more to offer. It had been night in Ne'Haer, and still had the look of night here. But his "Starry Eyes" were not affected by the dark. It was in his mind to find the other Immortals among this chaos to see what they would have of him. Should he stay behind and guard the portal, go into the fight, or search for the tomb? But first he needed to catch his breath. He leaned over for a moment's rest, hands on his knees, his back to the Portal, as more came through behind him.

[Nightshade Eld]

White. It was the first thing she saw and the only thing she saw when she stepped out of the portal. Just a sea of white, both beautiful and horrifying. It was a completely blank canvas of vicious cold which settled over her, dulling her senses for a moment. Would they paint a picture of victory or defeat? It took her a second to figure out where up or down was. The half avriel wasn't the most effected by the cold, she'd grown used to it considering flying was a daily activity. The higher you went the colder it got, if she wanted to be a Legend of flight she'd have to be used to extreme cold. She like to boast that she could handle cold in most of its forms. But this, she had to admit that this was true cold. She wrapped her wings around her body trying to warm herself. Was this safe flying weather? Most likely not, even for a master of flight like herself.

She wasn't allowed to remain in this confused state for more than a moment. Already someone was speaking to her. "Medicine, defense or attack?" The person said in a voice that was hollow to the half breeds ears. She turned to the person who spoke to her with a confused look. Finally reality crashed back in. They'd just escaped from the un-fondly nicknamed Fire Ass a second time, they were advancing on Tried's tomb, people were going to die if she didn't woman up and get her head together. The last thought was like a slap in the face. So much death, so many lives lost in the last couple of days alone. Now she finally had a chance to prevent some of that! She focused in on her soul objective, fight with her allies and save as many lives as possible. Her inadequacy had cost lives, so had her foolishness. There was no question about either of these. The mess they'd just escaped was proof enough. If only she'd worked hard, been more on top of it. Maybe she could have saved a life. But there was no point focusing on the past. The past couldn't be changed. The future was always wide open.

"Attack," she said firmly with a nod as she held up her blade. She quickly realized it was Red Brand in her hands, not her new sword. She sheathed Red Brand and grabbed her new sword when the woman turned away with a nod.

"To the front lines with you then," she said moving to do whatever other tasks she could. Night glanced about for a moment trying to locate her favorite immortal. Her mind also strayed to the immortal she thought her personal tormentor. "Ethelynda guard my soul, Chrien have mercy," she muttered to herself quietly turning to the front lines. Hopefully her luck was acting in her favor today.

She charged in with a horrendous screech, it was the most monstrous noise she'd made to date coming deep from within the pit of her being. It was hard to tell apart friend or foe so for the most part she focused on the beasts she knew to be shadows. She moved faster than the creature which had little time to react to Night. Her blade dug in deeply, she forced it in as deep as possible before wrenching it out and causing as much damage as she could. She made sure to turn the blade while it was still in the creature. All it took was that one hit for the shadow to go down. She flicked her blade taking a confident stance as her eyes darted about. Who was next? There was something so dark and savage in that thought. Be it any other circumstance and she would have most viciously reprimanded and berated herself. The idea of such a thought crossing her mind would have made her sane self fall ill. But right now she wasn't in the most sane of mindsets.

The people around her were dropping like flies to put it best. Ally, enemy, everyone was going to die. Even she was going to die if she didn't get her mind focused. Just as she brought herself back to reality a woman lunged at her. Night brought up her blade into a parry, locking the two together. This fighter, she was another swords woman. And she was obviously well versed.

Their eyes met, each one trying to use all their strength to overpower the other. A fool would have tried to back away, but neither of these women were fools. Night continued to force her blade against her foes while her foe struggled to try and move her sword into an advantageous position. Night however was stronger and faster. She moved her sword quickly, wrenching the other woman's blade right out of her hands. With the other sword on the ground Night moved forward quickly before any kind of dagger or the like could be drawn. She thrust downwards sending her sword deep into the other warriors skull. "Sleep fierce one, you've done enough," she muttered yanking her blade out of flesh.

She darted in and out of battles trying to do what she could for anyone in trouble. Each time she moved forward it felt like she was getting pushed back. But the warrior was nothing if not a stubborn, hopeful fool. Finally she came to a man locked in a deadly battle with one of the warriors of the other side. While he was locked in his duel another woman was lunging at him. Night jumped in the way using her blade to try and block the attack. For the most part it worked, but she could feel the light nip of something sharp grazing against her shoulder. It wasn't deep, but it stung. She could ignore the pain while the battle was going, she might even be able to ignore it enough to use that arm in her defense. But after the battle she was going to have to get it looked at. "Need someone to watch your back?" She asked with a light laugh.

In the back of her mind she quietly cursed herself, finally remembering the fact she'd taken a shield. Said shield was on her back. Ethelynda help me I'm a moron.

[Tei'serin Nji'ryn]

Two Immortals greeted those that emerged from the portal; Qylios, and Xiur. Their weapons were drawn, and they were clearly ready for a fight should an enemy emerge from the portal with the others. That was the first thing that Tei'serin noticed upon her arrival. The second was the bone deep, freezing cold of Oscillus. Tei'serin shivered as she moved out of the way so that others could come through. More than ever, she was glad that she had thought to bring blankets with the rest of the supplies she'd gathered.

There were three areas of the camp from what Tei'serin could see. One was a small shelter where wounded were being treated. The entrance of the camp was well guarded, manned by skilled warriors who stood at the ready to take on any who threatened the camp. And towards the back, a fierce battle was being waged near the walls of what Tei'serin assumed was Treidhart since she'd been told that was where they were going. Tall white giants fought against shadow creatures, and a bunch of women warriors. The sight of an army of warrior women was strangely familiar to Tei'serin. But as she watched, she realized that they must be Naerikk. That, or an army of women that worshipped the Immortals that they were fighting against. And given their sheer numbers, Tei'serin was pretty sure they were Naerikk.

Choose, they said. Help heal the wounded, defend the camp, or fight the massive army of monsters out there to get to the tomb. It wasn't really a choice for Tei'serin. She was no warrior. Luck alone had kept her alive when the shadow beasts attacked her farm. She would be worse than useless if she tried to fight. Helping the wounded, though...that she could do. She knew enough about herbs to be able to make most of the simpler remedies. The abilities Moseke had given her couldn't be used often without exhausting her, but they were another resource she had to rely on. And the rest...she could learn. She had already learned a dew things working with the healers she'd found before the meeting. She would learn more now. This, at least was something she could do.

Tei'serin moved towards the shelter that protected the wounded without hesitation. Once there, another healer saw her, and quickly put her to work.

[Doran]

Syroa was the only Immortal that had ever done anything for him, the only that had not simply caused him pain and turned her back on him when he had needed her the most. She was the only one that had ever seen him as more than just another one of Ziell’s countless half-blooded children, born only so that he could be sacrificed at the right time for a cause that they believed to be just. It was of her that he thought as he stepped out of the darkness of Emea and into the light, into a frozen land that reminded of Viden where he had spent some of the happiest arcs in his life and simultaneously realized that the so called good people were in truth cruel and cold-hearted, that what was good and evil, right and wrong was a decision that had been arbitrarily made, by whatever people happened to be in charge at the time.

Once hope had been his driving force, hope for a better future, hope that those mortals he had vowed to protect would finally be able to see, hope for something or somebody to fill the emptiness inside his soul, but he had come to realize that whatever hope he had felt had been but an illusion. What Xiur had given to them, what he was doing even now was not real. There was no hope, not for them anyway, not for those mortals that marched towards their doom, like lambs to the slaughter, never realizing that they were but pawns in the game of the Immortals and that their deaths would be meaningless in the long run. He would end it here and open their eyes.

He allowed himself but a moment to observe the scene in front of him and choose a target, long enough to see the man that was bent over, with his hands on his knees and his back to the portal, exhausted and unaware, before he acted. There would be no time for hesitation. People that hesitated, that had second thoughts, usually failed and paid the price for it. There would only be one chance for him to do what he had decided to do, what needed to be done, only one chance for him to change the fate of Idalos, to rise above them and become more than just a pawn in their games - and live, for her, the one that had marked him.

He swiftly stepped forward, sword drawn and pointing forward. He aimed just below the Immortal‘s ribcage, stabbing upwards towards where he knew a number of vital organs to be located with all his strength. A penetrating wound to the kidney would cause exsanguination fairly quickly unless help was immediately given while the target would die instantly if other organs were hit. But even if help arrived within trills, the poison that the tip of his blade had been coated with would ensure that his life would not be easily saved, especially considering that there was a battle raging in front of them and most of his allies‘ attention would be elsewhere, on those that were trying to take over Treidhart.

Immediately after he had made his move, he would pull his blade out again if he could and step back, regardless of whether what he had done had had the desired effect, regardless of whether the Immortal of Hope had taken his last breath or could still be saved. He would attempt to step back into the portal, where Emea and his best chance at escape lay, where unspeakable horrors as well as breathtaking wonders awaited. He would not take his chances on the battlefield where every mortal and immortal would be after him.

► Show Spoiler

The poison that Doran is using is "Strain". 100 gn have been paid for it and deducted from my ledger. Doran’s sword is of good quality if that makes a difference.

[Aeon]

The transition from darkness to light had his eyes closed, and it took Aeon several trills to finally adjust to the blinding ice underneath him. There were the two Immortals awaiting him and the others from the first group from Ne'haer, the two that looked the most like fighters, besides the snake-woman Immortal. The only other mortals the skyrider could see in the distance were the ice giants, the Ellune, whose names he did not know at the time, fighting for their own homeland as fearlessly and confidently as he would've fought for Rynmere. As he had fought for Rynmere.

The blond divine woman spoke up once more, filling the air around her with a strange sense of courage, as if it was a smell coming from her armpits. Her speech was directed towards those that arrived within the first group, and it ended just before the second group got there with Jesine, from the portal. Of the first men coming from Ne'haer, about a half went to defend the city, a third went to the tents, and the rest, including Aeon, was left to help the giants push into the tomb of their own Immortal. There had been, from what the skyrider could see, only four of those that went to the front lines at first, at least before the second batch of people came from Emea.

Four people side by side with the ice-wielding grey giants, fighting the shadow monsters and the warrior women. They were the Naerikk, Aeon presumed, the ones that came from Augiery, the ones that fought for the Immortal that the blond woman mentioned in Ne'haer. They were good fighters, and yet the skyrdier managed to cut through three of them by himself, before he finally fell back a couple of meters, allowing one of the ice giants to sweep several of them with a large axe. The shadows were a lesser concern at that moment, since the shadows could be eliminated with one slash of the blade, and would keep coming, but the Naerikk, they needed attention, and eventually, their forces would run out.

Having been literally on the front of the front lines, Aeon tried to stop each of the fighters of the opposing side from breaching the wall of the mortals and the Ellune, trying to stop them from going deeper into the front lines, or even reaching other parts of the camp. If they fought them head-on, the young sergeant could keep going for breaks, and keep winning the battle, but if they allowed the Naerikk and the shadows to go into their own army and cause havoc from each direction, then they would've lost.

The skyrider's limit was reached however, as a one-handed man could not stop every one of his enemies from passing by him, and the trill he started getting flanked by the woman warriors, Aeon realized what the real mission should've been. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and in every way overpowered, but he presumed that within the tomb of Treid there was something that the Immortals thought could win the war. Now, the young man's objective wasn't to simply hold the line, like of those that guarded the walls, but to push the line as fast as possible. Aeon stopped caring about the enemies that weren't on his path, and instead opted for fighting only those that stood between the tomb and himself. He ignored the foolish battlecry and kept going, as he thought of the options for who might have made it. Someone who didn't know war, or someone who was too afraid to actually fight, and had opted for moral support. None of the options were good ones.

One by one, the skyrider cut through the Naerikk and the shadows, as he promised himself one thing. Not for the sake of the Immortals, but for the sake of the people that followed said Immortals, he would keep going until he won the battle. Death wasn't an option, not anymore.