This is a series of interviews with veterans of the Overworld Wars. The details come straight from the notes of Samuael Nicholson, the reporter who even traveled to the Farlands to get the truth. This is the story of Phoenix Battalion.
- - - - – - - – - - - - - - - - - - – - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - (The house I'm sitting in with the fabled David McConnel is in bad shape. The paint is peeling away from the wall, the floor is missing in some places, and the dilapidated wood door is bent off the hinges. Still, for some reason, David still persists in living here. I walk down a short hall to a cozy study, which is quite possibly the only part of the house in good repair.)
(David looks up from his book and smiles at me sadly.)
D: "I suppose that you are the reporter that wanted to see me? Not many people would walk this far out of town at this hour."
*Yes, sir. I am Samuael Nicholson, and I would like to hear what happened to the Phoenix Battalion in the Overworld Wars. It's common knowledge that you are the heroes that saved us all from destruction.*
D: "Heroes? Pshh. They only say that to cover up the fact that we saw the worst of the war. Sure, we killed the Destroyer, but do you know what our casualty rate was? Thirty men for every Juggernaut, and two for each zombie. They call us heroes to rationalize the fact that 1,348,945 good men and women died, and in the end it came down to two to save us all. We were "acceptable losses". A statistic. No one really cared about us except our own.
(I sit down at a red large backed chair and start to inquire about the short days after the Sacking of Ridgevale ended.)
* Before the Phoenix Battalion came in to clean up after Ridgevale was looted, what did you do? Did you have any warning that the horde was approaching the Empire? *
D: "No, none. The earliest we in Ridgevale heard of any kind of army moving towards us was the dawn we were attacked, when Jax Ferguson went out to tend to his sheep, and saw them moving upon the horizon. I was in the market square, buying a bottle of Void dust for my mother. (He chuckles and rubs the bridge of his nose.) I don't even remember what it was for. All I know is that it saved my life."
*So, could you tell me what happened exactly from the time you left the marketplace to the time they attacked? *
D: " I had just pushed through the crowds when I saw Jax runnin' fit to outpace an Enderman, kicking a cloud of dust and coins up in the air as he jumped up on the plaza's fountain, and tried to yell above the noise and bustle of the marketplace that a massive horde was sighted to the south. Those that believed him struggled to get to their homes and families through the crowd. The city militia gathered every able-bodied man and woman and gave them a sword, a breastplate, and a helmet. Pulling into the market plaza, the captain of the guard gave orders for everyone to take defensive positions near the gate, the only way in or out of the valley. The tall, thick iron doors clanged shut with a resounding boom and we pulled the braces against them. Those of us that had bows climbed up to the gatehouse to fire out the windows. That was when they came right on top of us, climbing the wall, using ladders and siege towers to scramble over."
*So, wait, were these zombies? You said that this took place in the daylight. *
D: "Zombies? No no no. These were men from a warrior nomad tribe to the north, wrapped in white cloaks and hoods. They carried long glaives and scimitars, and had flags that denoted their battlegroup on their squad leader's backs, which were supported by a small crosspost which held the rectangular flags in place. They were all athletic and lean, and pulled themselves up the walls almost like they were walking a calm garden path. When they came to the windows, we tried to pull back, but their glaives had a reach that swept across the room. The archers were decimated, and the remainders clambered down the spiral staircase in terror. The whitecloaks with tools and axes easily bashed open the windows and cut a space for a man to go through.
*So they breached the wall in the first assault?*
D: "Yeh, they did. Even so, they had to fight their way down a spiral staircase, a long hallway with lots of nooks and crannies, and the thick oak door of the guardhouse. We of Ridgevale knew that we were the last defense of the town. (Sighing, David shakes his head.) Our iron swords were sharp, and our leather armor was the finest ever tanned, but our lack of training was what did us in. We were simple blacksmiths and carpenters, tanners and farmers, merchants and trappers. We knew nothing of the ways of war. Those whitecloaks, they fought like dervishes, ripping apart our ranks, like knives through butter, those steel blades ran us through. We stood no chance at stopping them. The captain of the guard and his guardsmen stayed behind and told us to go back to our homes and try to get a message to the Imperial Army. Their chainmail and iron helms reflecting the torchlight, the six guardsmen valiantly held them off until everyone could get out. I was the last one to leave, and I saw them felled by twelve black arrows, each a killing blow, one in the throat, and the other through the chest. I scrambled through the doorway, and pulled the bolt back. We had some cobblestone from the quarries in a wagon near the entrance and piled it up in front of the door. Then, we ran. Each to what each held dear. For some, their families. For others, the churches, and still others, the taverns and gambling halls. But each person was silent. Even the children knew something was wrong. Everyone was inside, some were looking outside through shuttered windows at the gate, when several earth-shaking rumbles were heard, and a cloud of dust and grit flew from the cracks in the wall.
*What was the source of this?*
D: "They had great engines of war, the likes of I had never seen before, with cannons and grapnels and a mighty ram. These tore through the wall, the cannons weakening the bulwarks, the ram breaking apart the mortar and stonework, and the grappling hooks pulling the stones down. The machinations of these we never could really understand, even though the Phoenix Battalion captured one later in the war. But, I'm getting sidetracked. These whitecloaks and their machines were just as efficient tearing great walls down as breaking down doors. (The man looks at his watch and blinks in suprise.)
Huh, I didn't realize that it was this late. You better get home before midnight. You have to pass The Heights on your way home, right? You don't want to be caught out there at night, like Jax and I were that one time. Bad things happen then. But, that is another story for another night. Good night, Samuael."
(When I reached The Heights, it was eleven forty-two. My watch was ticking in the cold autumn air, and I kept a brisk pace to get me home and to warmth. By the time The Heights had become naught more than a rise on the horizon, several red lights winked at me from the dense shrub cover upon the plateau. Reaching the gates of Scirran City, I worked my way through the busy Night Market until I arrived at my apartment. Lying down, I fell asleep, eagerly awaiting tomorrow night, when I would hear the rest of the story, the story of the Phoenix Battalion.)
