Heroes and Strife: Breaking the Invasion
Part 1: Fair and Foul in Pfred
Strife looked up at the sun. It was rare that a day could be so fair yet so foul. The walled city of Pfred was wounded, perhaps mortally. The city's living heart, the crown prince Eachann had been brutally killed the previous day, along with a sizable portion of the city's every decreasing soldiery. Strife had been there. Eachann had left the troops outside the walls, feeling confident after he had slain the Infernal army's champion in single combat. There had been hope then; they had pushed the Infernals back to their ships. Then, when they released their champion and counterattacked, Eachann has taken Strife's advice and pulled back. Once the counter had lost momentum, the allied troops responded and crushed it. Eachann met and killed their "pain-giver." Without him, the Infernals shouldn't have been able to marshal themselves.
But they did.
Strife had been in the city when it came, looking over the stores. He'd watched from the battlements as the invaders streamed from their camp by the sea. Strife had considered going out to coordinate the response, but decided that it wouldn't last. Infernal morale would be destroyed after the death of Pain. Spoiling attack at the worst. In any case, the action would have resolved itself by then.
The Infernal wave of troops met the defender's lines. It smashed them. One man, or demon, wore flashing armor. Strife saw that flashing figure wreck horrible destruction on the soldiers arrayed against him. The army of Pfred broke under the onslaught. Eachann had tried to get the army back to the safety of the city, but the new infernal champion was too much. Part of the army was stuck on one side of the river and slaughtered to the last man. The river ran blood over its banks. Damn these people's lack of tactics, even with the sacrifice of so many, the remainder barely got away.
Somehow, the Infernal champion had separated Eachann from his army. Eachann had tried to avoid for a while, but eventually faced him in single combat below the walls of Pfred. Eachann's younger brother, Prince Alexander, had joined Strife on the wall top. He watched the combat, wide-eyed. The two armored warriors dueled with amazing ferocity. Strife wondered if he was either the Infernal or Eachann's equal. Eachann did not gain the upper hand.
On the walls, Strife decided, damning this culture's petty honor, to get involved. He took Alexander's bow. It was a rude design, neither composite, recurved, or even long enough for full power. Strife still had more experience with bow theory than anyone on the plane. He pulled back, sighted at the flashing warrior, and fired. The shot missed. Strife fired again, and again, to no effect.
There was some black magic defending Eachann's opponent. Strife finished the quiver, and another from a conveniently nearby archer. Eachann eventually lost his spear and desperately charged with his sword. He was stabbed through the throat. With horror, Strife watched the Prince's body desecrated and drug through the dust. He tried to console Alexander.
Somehow, someone had gotten Eachann's body back from the Infernals. Strife had despaired of getting it back after the corpse had been dragged behind the chariot all the way to the sea. He had planned his own insertion to retrieve it, but it probably would've been suicide. They had burned Eachann's body in the local tradition.
Pfred wavered without her Prince. Yet, for all of that, there was hope. The situation had changed. Eachann was a great warrior, but he, nor was anyone around, a good tactician. The armies had fought on the plains outside the city, Pfred had not gotten the advantage of her walls. This had been necessary, leaving an infernal army to burn the country had not been an option for the soldiers, most of whom were farmers. Now, with most of them, Pfred and Infernal, dead, Strife was being allowed tactical command.
A report came in then. The Infernal who had killed Eachann had been the same Pain whom they had though dead, the unstoppable Infernal champion. Strife swore, "Damned El Cid ploy."
Strife realized something then. He was in command. Therefore, he was expected to be able to face this Pain. How would he stand against one able to slay armies? He was tough and strong, sure, but would it be enough?