It is Zor, the fifth day of Barrakas – late summer. The constellation Chronepsis shone bright in the sky, sending small glimmers across the ring of Siberys. They had been on the trails of a Thranite terror unit for a few weeks now; but always arrived too late. Searching through burned out farmhouses and villages for clues to their next heading, although the smoke was always a clear sign.
Captain Ja’wn kept us low to the ground, and off the trade roads, feeling it necessary to keep us in the tall-grass and brush should we be seen. A hand signal goes up – “Hold.” Ahead of us, nearly half a mile a light can be seen; bright in late summer night and smoke on the wind.
“We have found them. Arc and Eggs, take the right flank, Arden you’re with…”
Arden had already sprinted ahead, keeping low but not enough to really be worrying about being seen. Ja’wn muttered under his breath, flaring his nostrils and began to jog forward; Arc and Eggs keeping pace on the opposite side of the road.
When they finally caught up, Arden was peering out from an overturned wagon, weapon at the ready.
“What took you so long?” “If you had just waited for my orders…” “Then they might have left by then, there’s a circle of them ahead grouped around something”
Eggs cut in and whispered “You’re really going to get yourself killed one of these days Arden, I hope you understand that.” “I doubt it” he retorted.
“Shh, move in and stay low.” came the command, and so they did.
It was Arc that noticed that in the center was not a something, but a someone, and so it was he that struck the first blow. The battle ended as quickly as it started and bruised and beaten was a little girl – hiding from her rescuers, unsure of what to make of them.
“Come out little one, we are here to help you.” Eggs squatted down, red-scaled hand extended towards the farmgirl. Arc was searching the bodies for useful supplies while Ja’wn stood hands-on-hips to survey the battlefield. If he owned a cigar at that point, he might have chosen to smoke it. Arden returned from the homes edge to report in. “One got away, I suggest we finish here and set up an ambush; they will be coming back.”
As if by design a rumble could be heard, men on horseback come to avenge their fallen comrades. In front was a knight, an emblem of the Silver Flame proudly emblazoned on his chest plate. He dismounted along with his squad and could be overhead talking to the escapee. “Well, out with it soldier, how many of them were there?” His voice boomed. “I don’t know sire, twelve at least! They came from all sides!” the conscript pleaded.
The knight looked less than impressed and scowled at the scene before him, lit only by the moon and the barn which was fully ablaze. “Gather up the supplies and return to camp. We leave at first light.” With that the knight mounted up and rode off, the calvary following suit. The one remaining soldier began poking through and gathering up bits of rations, boots, weapons and goods that could be salvaged. He was not expecting a hand over his mouth, and a lightning-charged hand held poised at his temple.
From out of the shadows, the rest of the 421st Delta Roughriders came to interrogate their new hostage. Unfortunately not being trained in the subtle arts of interrogation, the conscript was mercifully laid to rest by lightning after losing an arm and a substantial amount of blood. They did however learn the name of General Charr, a dragonborn paladin who set it upon himself to cleanse Cyre in silver fire. They left the girls home and made camp for the night. The girls name was revealed as Kiri, and since she had nowhere to go was adopted as an unlikely child to four unlikely fathers. In the morning, they woke and began after the Thranite known as General Char.
Four years later.
Having chased General Charr all over Cyre, they finally had him cornered, or so they thought. Camped among old Cyran ruins, with their backs to the Brey River; General Charr and his lieutenants settled in Cyre for the last time – ready to cross the river and head home after a long campaign.
Arc, Eggs and Kiri laid low in the ruins, heading to scare off the horses and flank the generals Tent. Arden and Ja’wn headed forward. Arc twisted the magic in the air and the howls of a dozen wolves could be heard, scaring the horses considerably. Handlers and a few lieutenants ran out to calm the horses, Charr and his closest soldiers came to deal with the threat, but what they saw was not what they expected at all.
The 421st Delta Roughriders ran in, fighting with four years of pent up rage and aggression. Kiri the most of all, prepared to let out the fury of a lost home and family once within reach of General Charr. Arc threw out his hands to send a force bolt into the chest of a nearby lieutenant when the skies darkened suddenly. From the sky and small fragment of rock came and slammed into the center of the Thranites. Everyone was knocked back and thrown asunder from the blow. A loud rumble could be heard and as they all stood, flags could be seen in the distance and shortly the Cyran army was upon them.
“Good work soldiers! It is a great day, we have captured “The Silver Crusader”.” The general beamed. “Don’t worry about him, we’ll take it from here.” With Charr and a few lieutenants in tow, the Cyran army began to march off. Suddenly a boom was heard and the sky darkened again, but this time it was seen from within Cyre. Giant plumes of grey smoke roared towards their position. A wall of mist.
Staggering backwards they made for the river and Cyre was forever lost to history.
-Written by Chris (DigitalSatyr)