Chapter 1:
Far away from Mossflower , in the cold rocky lands of Islands of the North, an army of vermin fights under the banner of Emperor Shroud and the Empire of Zann. They were known as the Army of Deathbringers. Spreading like a scourge, the army conquered, ravaged, pillaged and enslaved countless regions near the peninsula it started from. The empire was founded by twin brothers name Zin and Zann, two evil pine marten's and slowly rose from humble beginnings in the Peninsula of Zann. With a rich history of slavery, war and turmoil. Most of their leader's were driven insane, or assassinated by family members and politicians. The conquest of the land's of nearest to them was not enough. Fuelled by rich farming and a strong economy , the army flourished into a living demon bent on carnage and chaos. The elite guard named The Black Hand guards the emperor and the main army travels and pillages. Now the current emperor chose to travel to the Northern Islands but unbeknownst to anyone but him and his conspirators, he loathes a general and plans on framing him for a murder.
Snow, the silent invader, swirled through the frigid northern air. The wind howled and cut like a knife. Footpaws squelching in the cold, wet mud Fleetnose and Scareye the stoat messenger's grumbled and cursed under their breaths. Being chosen by a captain, just because they were near by to inform a group of rats living in a pine forest that the Army of Deathbringers will slay them all if they dare fight back.
"Rotten luck I tells ye, tis' cold and damp out here and that damned captain, wot's his name... Ye, Vizk, that's it. Vizk kicks our poor bloody tails outta the camp. I swear someday imma going to kill him." grumbled Fleetnose.
"Aye," Replied his companion, "the bastard was jus' doing it to impress the emperor, I swear on me mum's grave he'll be dead afore the day's done. But lissen here mate, we sit tight an' finish this whole messaging lot and then we can go back to the fire, all warm an' cosy. We eat, and then we plots how we gonna kill 'im." he sniggered.
They kept walking and followed the muddy path through the dark pine trees, which consisted mostly of dead boughs and trees. Keeping their heads low, their teeth clattered and frost lined their whiskers. Unused to the frigid temperatures, as they were from a warm region in the South. Scareye rubbed his paws together and pulled out a ration pack.
"Aye, mate. I brought us sum drinks to warm us up" winked the stoat, as he slugged back the wine " brought this lot all the way from the ship, swiped it I did. "
They passed the bottle back and forth 'till it was empty. Trudging along some more and comfortably drunk, the duo reached a large group of houses.
The stout, small huts were made of mud and straw and were arranged in a rough semicircle. Not seeing a soul, the two of them still continued their jobs. Fleetnose held up a long spear with a flag on it, depicting a shield with a fang in the middle and lightning bolts on the sides. It was purely black and and the figures on it were bright yellow. Scareye carried a sword but instead he drew a scroll. Taking a breath and steadying himself from the wine. He boomed:
" Barbarians of the North, bow to the Empire of Zann and the Army of Deathbringers, ruled by Lord Shroud, Son of Tareal and Morgoroth. If you do not wholly, and fully comply and set down your arms, we will slay all your men, rape your women, enslave your children, burn your dwellings, take your valuables- Urkhh!" Scareye the stoat's eyes widened as he stared at the spear protruding from his chest in a widening circle of blood.
He looked at the spear, then at his companion and then the spear and laughed weakly. The alcohol numbed most of the pain but it did not stop him from suffering his inevitable death. Fleetnose stared at his messmate's lifeless body and stood gawking for several seconds before turning and drunkenly stumbling away. He was swiftly hit in the shoulder with a spear that tore the ligaments and sinew, and shattered several bones as well. Almost instantly a arrow thudded wetly into his throat.
Miraculously, he survived all this and fell to the ground, staining the bright white with scarlet blood. Holding on to his counciousness, the stoat stared at a huge hulking form approaching him and the figure was followed by hundreds of others. Fleetnose attempted to yell but his throat was clogged with his own blood and all that came out was a wet gurgle.
Rorthan the barbarian Chieftain was a cannibal and so was most of his following. Seeing that Fleetnose would make a great meal and allow him the element of surprise he slung the dying stoat on to a cart and ordered his army to follow.
Arrows were notched, spears were readied, swords were cleaned and shields prepared in the opposing army's camp. Sharpened stakes were shoved into the ground and sacks of sand were used as makeshift covers for the archers. Althalos, a tall sinewy sable, was a general in the Army of Deathbringers. Standing out in any crowd the sable was very handsome and possessed sleek black fur, almond shaped brown eyes, a tan throat and undertone and curled, perfumed whiskers. His beauty was partially butchered by a long diagonal scar that ran from his forehead to his bottom lip. He wore light chainmail armor and a tough, red tunic beneath it. A short sword hung from his belt and a coat of furs hung from his shoulders to shield him from the cold. He glanced gloomily at the treeline of the pine forest waiting for his messengers to return. He spat into the mud and walked to his lieutenant and second in command. Crassus was a short,but strong young weasel with a reddish brown coat and the same outfit as Althalos, save the elegant furs. Crassus was intelligent and was a preference for future general. He saluted with his sword quickly and said,
" Zounds, when are those two bastard stoats going to return? Been two hours since they've been gone. Should we mount the attack now sirrah?" Turning expectantly to the sable. Althalos pensively stroked his chin and said,
"Have the foot soldiers ready and the missile unit in formation. I need you to take forty-two strong soldiers with you and go to the eastern side of the forest. Be quiet when you reach there and then you shall send a group to scout the forest for signs of the enemy. I shall do the same and then we can mount a wedge attack and flank the bastards. Tell that fox, Vizk to take the front with the remaining lot. I'll wager that they already killed the stoats and are marching forward this instant. I can here 'em too" Althalos tuned his ears to pick up the nearing sounds of a war chant and shouting. " Alright their coming, do as your told my lieutenant. Swiftly now !"
The sable turned and picked a good group of fighters and signaled them to follow.
Fifteen archers and twenty five foot soldiers each wielding a javelin for throwing, a short sword and a small dagger with a shield for close quarters and two carrying the standards of the army. Silently they trailed the barbarians from their village, where they found the mangled and feasted on remains of Scareye and his head on a stick. Urging his comrades on, Althalos took point to improve morale. They stopped and moved the side of the path when the spotted the barbarian horde. They were a disgusting sight. Most were naked, but the few who were dressed wore nothing but fur kilts.. The forty strong fighting force, originating primarily from warm regions were amazed at how the rats could withstand the fierce cold and bitter winds. The savage rats were all tall and well built, covered in tatoos of blue ink and carrying brutish spears, primitive bows and long iron swords. Most were heavily disfigured from generations of inbreeding, one rat even had a horn growing out of his forehead. The Zannian general addressed his soldiers. Issuing orders,
"Alright the damned lot are right here, don't worry and jus' stick to the plan. If any of youse tries to run away, I'll gut yer mangey hide and murder your family." The sable joked, earning a couple chuckles from the fighters." We ain't here to lose, alright? These bastards are nothing to us, we're all seasoned warriors here, ready to die for the mighty god Tareal. Now get yourselves in formation. Scumscale, take your archers and head to their east flank" The weasel saluted smartly and collected his charge "Ravennose, take the javelin throwers with Scumscale. An' the rest of you follow me." He said drawing his short blade.
Out on the front, Vizk the fox lieutenant stood staring at the lone rat standing on a mound of snow and dead trees. Sneering he addressed the huge rat. Vizk was large for a weasel, but the this great hulking rodent was almost double his size. He held a large axe in one paw and a kilt of fur around his waist . Crisscrossed with tattoos and cuts the rat stared at the weasel. Then the silence was broken by Vizk.
"Wot do ye want you scum? Can't you tell you've been conquered?" He laughed. To this the rat yelled,
"Lissen here you mangey son of a bitch, I'll murder you myself, I'll kill everyone one of you and stick your head onto a spear." Spitting on the ground, the enraged bilge rat continued " I dare you to fight us, we'll teach you lot a thing er' two 'bout fighting. Tchah, The Army of Deathbringers, don't make me laugh. Your own soldiers are getting drunk just to get picked off by my Doomclaws."
Holding up the stoat messenger, Fleetnose. Who was on the verge of death, the savage rat took a massive bite out of his throat to punctuate this. Dark blood splashed onto the face of Rorthan the Rat as he tore the helpless stoat's throat open. Drinking the blood he lapped up errant drops with his long, raked tongue he smiled wickedly and kicked the dead body into a ditch. Howling at the sky he yelled
" Chargeeee, Doomclawssssssss!" And two hundred rats poured out like a swarm of locusts , yelling and howling like the damned. In return hundreds of volleys of arrows flew into the air and thudded into the charging forms, javelins whistled and pounded mercilessly into their targets. But the barbarian archers returned fire and several foot soldiers were slain in seconds. The remaining four hundred were rallied to stage a full frontal assault and Vizk drew his cutlass and charged,
" Deathbringerssss, Killll !"
He was echoed by the vermin in his command as metal flashed and clanged in the frigid morning air. While this was happening a sentry perched high up in a tree waved a red bandanna signalling Althalos and Crassus's forces to charge.
The general Althalos was a clever tactician but used a simple technique. Using a wedge attack. The front was taken by a fighter who lead a triangle shaped group behind him, hence the "wedge" then they charged into the side of the enemy ranks. They threw their javelins into the opposing force when Althalos swished his sword downwards. The sable roared at his legionaries
" Alright, charge through and swipe with your swords, keep the shields up! Javelins, archers, Fire!"
A volley tore into the Doomclaws and a rat was partially castrated by a arrow and another was hit in the eye with another arrow. Seeing their comrades and in some cases family members, dying around them, the rats turned, drawing their long swords and howling.
"Okay, now push your shields out boys!" yelled a smiling Althalos, he had planned for this to happen. The greatswords the rats wielded her useless in close quarters, and that's when the short foot soldiers sword came into play. Hacking and slashing the legionnaires cleared enough space and pushed on, carving a wide open space riddled with dead rats. Hearing more yelling on the other side of the Doomclaw ranks the group fought to the center where they were joined by Crassus and the others. Smiling warmly the sable and the weasel shook hands heartily.
"Quit a tussle, eh?" said the young weasel " Zounds! Did you see that, a javelin nearly took me eye out!" Althalos laughed and replied
"Well then keep your eyes open and lead your troops!" The general sliced a barbarian throat open and stabbed a female in the chest.
"Zounds, did ya see the knockers on that one!" whistled Crassus, " I woulda paid a good price to be with her for one night. Ha! Shame she's a cannibal though." as he drove his sword through a rat's guts, spilling them everywhere.
Soon they were near the front line, covered in mostly blood, the pair and their respective charges spotted the massive rat, Rorthan. He was waving his massive axe in the air, swinging at soldiers and yelling like a madbeast. Frothing at the mouth he cut an arm off of a legionnaire and bit another in the cheek, tearing flesh from the poor soldiers eye socket to his snout. Althalos asked for cover and dove into the fray.
All the while, the Army of Deathbringers kept up a rousing chant
"Deathbringers, Kill, Kill, Killll !"
And the opposers roared too
"Doomclawsssss"
Althalos grabbed a javelin and threw it at a passing rat, then smashed another with his shield, breaking most of it's bones and killing it . In one fluid motion he beheaded a barbarian, then sweeped downwards slicing its chest open. Blood splattered the sables face as he rushed onwards towards the leader of the rats. All of a sudden a rat appeared before him. Locking swords together, the pair stared at each other. Althalos kicked the opposer in the groin, smashed his hilt into his forehead and stabbed him with a stilleto hidden from his belt repeatedly in the neck.
Yelling, the enraged sable sprinted towards the huge Rorthan. Smashing into him, the sable was dwarfed by the rat, which was a good head taller. The rat moved with surprising speed and smashed Althalos with a heavy hand, the sable flew into a tree stump. Yelling the rat charged but at the last second Althalos rose and rolled away. Rising, he turned. Althalos's vision was swimming but he still parried the heavy axe and blocked repeatedly. An arrow suddenly thudded into the rats footpaw, angrily the giant swatted the broken shaft and turned to see a shape hurtling towards him. Grunting, Althalos swung his sword across the rat's bare chest, spraying blood. Then he thrusted into Rorthran's stomach, but the blade was blocked by his axe at the last second and it only managed to scrape his rib cage. The rodent foolishly kicked at Althalos but his already injured footpaw was slashed in return. Grunting he locked blades with his enemy.
Paw to paw, eye to eye, blade to blade, whisker to whisked the two battled it out. The two struggling beasts were locked in mortal combat. Both knew that only one would survive. Eyes shaking in their sockets with anger, Althalos gave one more final thrust and the great rat's eyes widened as he finally met his match. Then the sable general sliced the cannibal's head off and roared at the prone form of his decapitated foe. Spitting on the body and wiping his blade clean. The warrior rose and howled
"Death to all who oppose The Empire of Zannn!"