This is the first of the Chapters describing the battle between the Temur and Mardu. As you can probably tell just by that sentence, I have literally no idea about what to write in this introductory section :) .
The noise was deafening, the primal roar of the Mardu shaking the landscape, causing avalanches in the distance and making the air shudder around Quial Shockwing as he brought his mount further towards the ground, the large roc appearing as an almost invisible breath of wind to the non-magic wielders in the advance below him.
The concealment magic of the Mardu was amongst the best out of all the clans, many armies have thought they were leading the almost reckless Mardu into a trap only to be assaulted from all sides and from above by concealed warriors. Quial's roc screeched as another bird threatened to overtake them – Quial was given the honour of leading the skycharge by the Khan himself, and his mount understood that it was a grave insult for others to interfere with that.
He looked down at the over-eager softheels that ran at the front of the vanguard, all of them half-dreaming with thoughts of glory and honour, remembering the time when he was that idealistic about war. A slender, white haired aspirant looked up at the unit of roc riders and Quial grinned down at the mage, showing off with a 360 degree twirl and flying past the furthest unconcealed warrior, catching sight of their enemies hunkered down in the snow.
The Temur wore the signature heavy furs needed to survive life in the cold embrace of the Frontier, many carrying heavy axes and hammers that would usually be used to kill large creatures, but were now turned towards the slaying of the Mardu.
The battle was to take place in a huge, relatively open icy area that had a small copse of decrepit and straggly trees that would have trouble hiding a tiny mammal, much less an ambush force.
A band of large and rugged ainok lacking the precise discipline of the ones allied with the Abzan but making up for it in the increase in size and strength took their positions in the line of Temur troops. They reminded him of Kharkel, the dog man that led a renegade tribe of Mardu orcs and had struck some sort of bargain with Azal Coldsword, as Quial had caught a glimpse the two conferring when he was flying a different route to the one he normally took. Quial had no interest in scheming and so paid little heed to the two.
Focussing back onto the present, he sheathed the sword he carried on the scabbard at his waist and drew the longbow hanging from his back – when the order came to attack, he would target the shamans bound to be in the Temur force, as they would be able to see through the façade that the riders relied on heavily for protection. To this end, he ordered the rest of the riders to halt, leaving their mounts to slowly circle to keep them airborne but out the vision of the shamans.
The signal to start the archery bombardment was then given, a high pitched whistle that was proceeded by hundreds of Mardu equipping their bows and beginning to rain down arrows upon the Temur. In response, a huge pool of water at the foot of the troops was conjured by several shamans that had a blue glow around them. The water began rising upwards and solidifying into a titanic wall of ice.
Quial's heartbeat quickened as he realised that his chance for earning First Blood would soon disappear, his final chance to earn glory and honour within the clan. No longer would they call him a coward – they would respect him. Quial spurred his roc onwards, and the rest of the riders were duty-bound to follow. He drew an arrow, nocked it onto the bowstring and pulled it back, looking for a target.
There! He released the shot, an arrow arcing downwards and slamming into the throat of an exposed shaman; she knelt down, coughing, and then died.
"First blood!" he cried exultantly, but his humour soon died down as he noticed a Temur shaman, his posture bowed by the extreme amount of tribal fetishes attached to an enormous headpiece, far beyond the range of concealment detection, looking straight at him.
Panic consumed Quial as he heard an extremely loud crackle, like the sound of a bonfire being lit. He had a small moment to catch a glimpse of roughly half the shamans building the wall stepping back, Red mana coating their upturned palms. Then, a huge inferno of flame engulfed the roc riders in a massive explosion of scintillating red light, sending them plummeting to the ground like living, screaming meteorites. The pain of burning was ended mercifully quickly for Quial, and he slammed into the ice, splattering his and his mount's blood in a wide area, crimson viscera giving the frost a brutal sheen.
Azal ensured that his face was set in a grimace as he watched the roc riders smash into the ground, and although Quial had needed to die, the cunning Mardu felt a slight pang of sadness as he watched the majestic flying beasts murdered in such a dishonourable manner.
However, they had served their purpose, many more casualties being caused by the ground archers as the ice wall took longer to complete – eventually, the amount of shamans being slain forced the Temur to abandon the huge wall, instead each magic-wielder encased the nearby area in a protective bubble that, while still stopping the archers, did nothing to prevent the charging Mardu from soon coming to grips with them.
Azal considered it as killing two birds with one stone – he had predicted that the Temur would try a similar tactic to the one they utilised now, but the originally scheduled commander for the rocs would have not been as reckless as Quial.
To this end, Azal intercepted the slave carrying the message to the original commander, replacing it with his own message naming Quial as the leader. He knew that the impetuous fool would get himself killed, believing to be invincible with the merit of command, and thus would eliminate all traces of his meeting with Kharkel.
He ran alongside his Khan as the force spread out widthways, the softheels still in the front rank of the army as they were joined by their Named brethren.
Jakhan felt the heat waves buffet him as the majestic flames that had engulfed the riders simmered out of existence, instinctively moving in front of Kaldros to shield him, the young mage scowling at his brother's protectiveness.
The Temur force less than 200 strides away from them looked formidable to say the least, the protective bubbles of Blue and Green manner shimmering as the occasional arrow was bounced off them – for the most part the Mardu had opted to conserve ammunition for when the fight proper broke out, as the shamans would be forced to abandon these defensive tactics to aid in the killing.
The Mardu warriors continued charging, horsemen clattering past the softheels to form the spear-point that would break the Temur.
150 strides.
As the Mardu came closer, the Temur tensed, readying weapons for the inevitable slaughter to come.
100 strides.
Magi on both sides conjured auras to augment their brethren, the Temur shamans invoking their ancestors as natural Green energy flowed through the enemy warriors, whilst the Mardu warriors were blessed with a mix of defensive White enchantments and aggressive Red and Black sorcery. Jakhan could feel his twin's simultaneously familiar and alien magic encasing his muscular limbs in shielding plates whilst destructive power flowed around his axe, just as they had practised a few days earlier.
To the left of the aspirants was the terrifying Zurgo, the orc bellowing a challenge at a large figure flanked by two other Temur - one the Whisperer that had spelled the doom of Quial and the riders, the other a large ainok female with a torn ear. That made the figure in the middle Surrak Dragonclaw, Khan of the Temur, a towering human almost the same size as Zurgo himself.
50 strides.
Time slowed to a crawl as the Mardu screamed their hatred at the foe and the Temur responded in kind, the brothers' hearts pounding as they too shouted with the rest of their clan.
The Temur also started to run forwards, the two armies slamming into each other with a bone-crushing impact, many warriors shattered in that first, brutal impact.
A large Temur warrior wielding claws attached to his hands leapt at Jakhan who swung his axe in a wide axe, the preternatural speed given to him by Kaldros allowing him to strike first, bisecting the man and splaying his organs across the warrior behind him in a sickening arc of blood.
Another human stepped forwards to engage Jakhan, but the young warrior, galvanised by the his earlier kill, swept his axe around in an overhead arc. The Temur deflected the blow slightly off target and sidestepped it, stabbing the sword into Jakhan's side. The Mardu felt the enchantments of his brother smash apart under the impact but he was unscathed, and shoulder-barged his opponent backwards as a serrated blade swung downwards and decapitated the man. Atasha smirked viciously at him and swiftly turned to find another opponent.
They were certainly not in low supply. The battle had lost all sense of cohesion, Temur and Mardu desperate to murder and maim one another as the battlelines mixed together. Huge loxodon brawled with brutish, unchained ogres in titanic displays of raw power, enigmatic and elegant windfolk duelled with deceitful goblins, orcs and ainok clawed and brutally savaged each other and shamans on both sides flung incandescent spells into the masses in dazzling parades of destructive force.
Speaking of mages, Jakhan thought as he used a short moment bereft of violence to attempt to locate his brother. It was not a difficult task, as Kaldros was surrounded by circling energies as he battled another Temur shaman, the Whisperer conjuring up icy shards and launching them at the younger twin. Kaldros seemed to almost sigh contemptuously as a wall of blinding flame rose up around him and melted the onrushing projectiles. Before the enemy shaman had time to react, Kaldros had leapt forwards on ethereal wings and fired a bolt of annihilating flame at extremely close range, incinerating the Temur.
Jakhan had known that his brother was a gifted mage due to the way the other shamans spoke of him, but to see that power in action was astounding. He felt proud of his younger brother but also slightly jealous – however he did not have long to ruminate on this feeling of envy as a huge bear lead by another Temur charged at him.