Demons of the Desert (Private w/ Anguish)

[SciFiSteve626]

Akyra roared as she deftly whirled her scimitars at the possessed nomads encircling her. A well-excecuted slash slit the neck of a Nomad whose reaction skills were not quick enough to block Akyra's scimitar strikes. Red blood spewed like a fountain in all direction, and Akyra sent a moment relishing in her brutal kill. 

An instant later Akyra wheeled her stallion Safan around to face her other assailants. She instinctively bend her body away from an on coming scimitar slash, but the blow connected with Akyra's right side.  Fortunately, Akyra's scale armor was strong enough to withstand the blow, but she could not afford any more lapses in concentration.

Grunting with anger, Akyra parried a scimitar strike at her left side whilst attacking an enemy horseman on her right, which barely penetrated his shoulder armor. Seeing an oncoming short sword in her peripheral vision, Akyra contorted her body to face the oncoming sword and with both of her scimitars locked swords with the enemy nomad. Knowing the nomad was not expecting such a rapid reaction, Akyra disengaged her scimitars and slashed  at the nomads hand. A sickening howl emanated from the nomads mouth as his hand was horrifically mutilated.

Sensing her stallion Safan about to lean forward, Akyra adjusted her legs to grasp her horse tighter. Neighing loudly, Safan leaned forward and with his rear hooves unleashed a vicious kick on an approaching horse behind him. No sooner had Safan sent that mortally wounded horse careening than he reared up kicking a dismounted nomad in the face. A gut-wrenching thwack resonated through the air as the nomads skull bones shattered. While Safan was leveling out, Akyra raised her right scimitar to strike at another leather-armored foot soldier.

Despite directing a forceful blow at the foot soldier Akyra's scimitar was effortlessly parried. A stunned Akyra for a brief moment locked eyes with the foot soldier. He was possessed like the other nomad. A faint red glow emanating from both his eyes, and his mannerisms faintly characteristic of an undead, at least the stories of the undead Akyra had heard.

The possessed foot soldier thrust powerfully at Akyra's face. A rapid reflex from Akyra's left arm glanced the oncoming sword harmlessly into the air before Akyra mentally registered her face was being jabbed at. She braced her right scimitar for a slash at the foot soldier, but his glowing red eyes fade and he slumped over and collapsed as blood oozed from his chest. An armor-piercing arrow had skewered the foot soldier in the back and protruded from his heart.

With her surrounding enemies slain, Akyra paused to survey the ongoing battle. Her tribe of the Sand Dragon People were locked in combat with a congregation of unsettlingly powerful Demon Cultists. Akyra could sense the malignant magical energy of the Demon Cultists perverting the desert and its weather, making it increasingly chaotic. The air was eerily still and the sky was blanketed with black clouds foreshadowing a gargantuan storm approaching. Flashes of bright crimson and mystic green from the Demon Cultists sporadically light up the sunless evening. Massive hordes of possessed nomads threw themselves at the Sand Dragon warriors while the demon cultists invoked magical energy attacks and summoned demonic creatures.

True to their heritage, the Sand Dragon People had fought fiercely and valiantly, but Akyra knew that they would not be able to continue fighting against the increasingly overwhelming odds. Blasts of magical energy zoomed at her warriors, exploding in brilliant crimson light shows. The occasional blast that found its mark disintegrated several tribesman at a time. The ceaseless onslaught of the possessed Nomads was wearing the Sand Dragon battle groups thin, and to compound the situation the Cultists were about to unleash a pack of demonic creatures on her tribe. Akyra felt a sinking feeling knowing she would have to disengage.

"KOMUTAN!" Akyra shrieked over the sounds of the battle. Swallowing her pride, Akyra ordered, "ORDER A TACTICAL RETREAT!"

As soon as Akyra finished issuing her orders a blast of magical energy struck her in the chest and sent her flying off Safan, although her Amulet of Resilience absorbed the damage.

"UMPH!" The air was knocked out of Akyra as she violently struck the rocky ground. Akyra lied on the ground, reeling from the impact. As she meekly regained her footing, she saw a savage hellhound lead onto Safan's side. Akyra winced as Safan neighed in pain and she heard the terrible gashing sound the hellhounds claws made in Safan's side.

"SAFAN!" Akyra howled with pure rage, drawing her bow with breakneck speed and skewering the hellhound in the head with an arrow before it could sink its fangs into Safan's neck.

Safan immediately galloped over to Akyra, fearing for the safety of his owner despite having gaping wounds in his side. Akyra remounted Safan and whipping the reigns willed him into a full gallop away from the Demon Cultists and pursuing possessed nomads. She could see now the Sand Dragon People were in full retreat, continuing to mow down their pursuers with arrows to cover themselves.

Turning to face her pursuers, Akyra fired off a few arrows at a group of pursuing hellhounds, they all stumbled over each other as the arrows thudded violently into their brains. 


Even though she had ordered a tactical retreat, it became obvious to Akyra how physically impossible that was, seeing the disjoined warriors of the tribe desperately fleeing in no organized manner. Akyra desperately looked around for Komutan Qurashi, although she wasn't sure if he had stayed behind to use his famed Blood Rage ability to buy time for the retreating warriors.

Seeing a sandstorm about to overcome the tribe, Akyra sighed and hope her people would be able to regroup.

[Anguish]

Cries of agony and the ring of steel on steel was all that Naasir could hear. His blade Mirage was already drenched in the blood of cultists and possessed nomads, though he was yet to receive even a scratch. Another nomad approached him wielding a scimitar and attempted to slash at Naasir's neck, but he easily parried the attack by batting the nomad's sword out of the way with his own. He then brought the blade around in a fluid arc, severing the nomad's head from his body.

Naasir turned to try and see where his Warlord was, but the battlefield was too chaotic to tell where anyone was. He watched as three of his allies fell before him and howled with rage, charging at the cultists that had slain his fellow tribe members. Just before he reached them an arrow grazed his right arm leaving a long, open wound. His eyes began to glow red as his Blood Rage began to take effect while he impaled a cultist through the chest with his blade.

He still had to deal with the other two cultists and two nomads that had killed his brethren. The nomads charged at him, one wielding two scimitars and the other wielding a long spear. Naasir swung his blade around to parry the scimitars on his right, but the spear sank into his left shoulder. He simply grabbed it and pulled it out, disarming the nomad that had caused the wound.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a blast of magic coming from one of the cultists. With his increased speed, he grabbed the disarmed nomad and threw him in the way of the attack. The other nomad attacked again, but Naasir swung his blade around to parry the attack once more, this time breaking both scimitars on impact with his own sword. He turned to the cultists, but before he could slay them they dropped to the ground, arrows in their chests.

At that point Naasir heard his Warlord call out for a retreat, and Naasir echoed the orders to the soldiers around him. "Fall back!"

The Sand Dragon People began to retreat, but many were killed in the process by arrows or magic. Naasir saw one particularly unlucky person get ripped to shreds by a hellhound before one of his archers took it down. The rest of the tribe may have been retreating, but Naasir knew they wouldn't be able to outrun or outlast the cultists.

The sand around him began to swirl into a sandstorm, giving his soldiers the cover they needed to retreat. Naasir charged back into the fray, taking an arrow in the thigh as he did so. He killed a few more cultists before he decided that he had given his men enough time, then turned to retreat himself.

Moments later, Naasir began to see his Warlord through the desert winds blowing around him. He left the sandstorm behind as he made it up to her, holding his sword over his right shoulder with one hand. The Blood Rage was starting to fade, and his eyes began to return to their rightful emerald green color. His wounds began to heal as well.

Naasir approached his Warlord and bowed his head. "We need to keep moving. It won't take them long to catch up to us."

[SciFiSteve626]

"We need to keep moving,"

Akyra barley noticed her trusted second-in-command approaching her as she halted her mount Safan to assess the situation of her tribe. Gazing in horror, Akyra was helpless to issue commands over the sound of the howling desert winds and cackling desert clouds ready to discharge their lightning. The infamous horde of the Sand Dragon People, a normally well-oiled military machine, was broken from the powerful magics of the Demon Cultists. A mixture of stunned horror and rage brewed inside Akyra.

"It won't take them long to catch up to us," Snapping out of her daze, Akyra turned to the bowed Komuta Naasir Qurashi. Looking back from where her tribe retreated Akyra could see one of Naasir's sandstorms impeding any pursuit that the Cultists and their followers would attempt to make. It would only by the retreating Sand Dragon People a brief opportunity to distance themselves from the Cultists, but Akyra knew every second was valuable if her people were to survive to fight another day.

"You never fail to amaze," Akyra nodded in approval. She had chosen Naasir to be the Komutan, the second-in-command, of her tribe for his unique blend of a calm strategic demeanor and a beserker rage in combat made him an invaluable asset to the tribe. It appeared for now that Naasir's incredible skill set may have very well saved her people, but she knew that the sandstorm that Naasir brewed would not last forever.

"HOP ON!" Akyra yelled to Naasir, who complied and saddled on behind Akyra on Safan, who accepted the burden of a second rider without complaint despite being badly wounded.

"HI-YAH!" Akyra shouted as she cracked the reigns of Safan, urging him forward away from the impeding death of the Demon Cultists.

--

It had been two days since Akyra's Sand Dragon People had been trounced by a group of Demon Cultists who had made a stronghold out of various ancient ruins in the Moraki Desert. In  their hasty and disorganized retreat, the Sand Dragon People had failed to regroup, and now were dispersed around the desert. Some, Akyra feared, were still at the mercy of the cultists.

Ever since the battle she had been traveling north with a small group of survivors consisting of some spear infantry, Deathbringer cavalry, horse archers, and her trusted second in command Naasir Qureshi.

A violent torrent of bitter anger and hatred mixed with despair and loss brewed inside of Akyra. She fought to keep her emotions in check and think clearly. Never before in her reign as Warlord had she been faced with such a strategically hopeless situation, and never had her tribe be resoundingly beaten as they had been.

Akyra stopped to contemplate what her next course of action. The Demon Cultists were clearly powerful demonic magic users, which was problematic on multiple levels. Despite the experience the Sand Dragon People had with brutal warfare, they had virtually no experience combating magic users, and possessed none of their own, aside from the Elders. Besides, the Elders were wise consultants for the Warlord of the tribe with low level shamanic capabilities, with nothing remotely approaching the power of the Demon Cultists. Akyra was sure that her tribe infamous for the vicious and courageous style of combat would be able to fight off the Demon Cultists and their possessed borders, but they needed an x-factor to nullify the advantages the Cultists possessed over her tribe.

"A demon hunter," Akyra thought out loud, gaining the attention of her officers gathered around, waiting for commands from their Warlord.

Addressing her officers more directly, Akyra continued, "We need to travel to one of the fringe towns and find a demon hunter capable of using divine magic against the cultists."

Nodding in reply, the officers dispersed to relay the commands to their warriors. The fringe towns were the collection of various low-key villages on the edge of Essyrn territory, many were communities of congregation and rest for bounty hunters and mercenaries. While it was not likely for a demon hunter to be found in one of the fringe towns, it was certainly a possibility.

Akyra sighed deeply in an attempt to vent her anxiety. Never before had she felt so exasperated. To Akyra being the Warlord of the Sand Dragon People was a birthright that she had been destined to accept. Now her responsibility of leading a tribe of outcasts and warriors to their sacred promise land, not to mention her entire life, were on the verge of ruin if she did not find a way to defeat the Cultists and save her people.

Looking down to her left, Akyra locked eyes with Naasir, and gave him a worried gaze. While she didn't trust showing such weakness in front of her tribesmen, Akyra trusted Naasir with knowing how she really felt. Naasir returned an understanding look of his own, and proceeded to walk northward with the rest of the tribe.

There had better be a demon hunter up north Akyra matter-of-factly thought to herself.

[Anguish]

The journey north had done little to ease Naasir's worries so far. The first village they had stopped at had been a complete waste of time. The head of the village had promised them that one of the mages who lived in his town would for sure be able to defeat the demons, though he wouldn't return until the next day. Patiently they waited for him and when he finally arrived Naasir himself went to investigate this mage's capabilities.

He was nothing like the head of the village had promised. Naasir arrived at his house to find an old man, easily in his sixties or seventies. He decided that this man's age could be a blessing and that his years spent mastering magic would make him more powerful, but he was dead wrong. After Naasir presented his case, he asked the mage for a demonstration of his power in the form of a friendly duel. Within seconds Naasir had his blade held at the mage, completely unphased by the weak magic that was used against him.

After that disappointment, they had kept walking north. The next town was another two day walk away. During this time, Naasir stayed mostly quiet unless someone addressed him. He spent his time strategizing, preparing for the worst as his hopes of finding a demon hunter or a powerful mage began to fade.

Meanwhile, just north of that same town...

The howl rang out through the forest as the hellhound began its assault. The young child screamed in fear along with his mother, who was standing in front of him to protect him from the beast. The hellhound leaped at the woman and she closed her eyes. Then there was a thud.

The woman opened her eyes to see the beast slumped on the ground with an arrow glowing of holy energy placed perfectly between its eyes. The woman immediately picked up her son and looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever had just saved them. A few seconds later, Valyria stepped out from the shadows and walked over to the woman. "Hellhounds don't just wander around by themselves. You're not safe here."

She looked at the kid, then back at his mother. "I'm traveling south to the next town. It would be in your best interest to follow me there."

The woman simply nodded as Valyria was already turning to walk away and began stumbling after her, still in shock about what had just happened. Valyria didn't sense anything near them, which meant they were safe for now. However, she could faintly pick up a sign of something very powerful approaching. She knew it wouldn't be safe for long.

They traveled in silence to the town, which was fortunately only about two hours away. Once they arrived, Valyria led the mother and child to an inn and got them a room for the night. It wasn't very hard to do at all, either. The child blabbed on about how Valyria had slain a demon to save them. At that point, the innkeeper didn't want to do anything to get on her bad side.

She left the inn and started walking around the town. Recently there had been a lot of stories about demon attacks to the south. Valyria also kept sensing a powerful presence faintly in the distance, and as such needed to investigate. She found a larger inn that seemed to be the center of action in this town and entered. She took a seat at a table near the bar and waited for someone to come in who looked like they might have some information she could use.

[SciFiSteve626]

The remnants of the Sand Dragon army summited a hill near another Fringe town. It was midnight, and for four days with only a few hours of sleep Akyra had desperately lead her army of survivors from one Fringe town to the next, searching for a sword or spellcaster for hire that could assist her tribe in their fight against the Demon Cultists.

"Quindeki," She sighed dejectedly. Quindeki was a unremarkable Fringe town, and as far as Akyra knew only occasional bands of mercenaries passed through it. Akyra did not think that she would be able to find any capable demon-fighters in this town, but her predicament did not allow her the luxury of being choosy about where she went searching for demon-fighters.

"Make a camp outside the town, I will search the town of prospects," Akyra told her officers knowing bringing her warriors into the town would be seen as an act of war. Her officers responded with a wearied but unified chorus of affirmatives.

Turning over her shoulder, Akyra pointed to five of her Golden Shield guards to accompany her. The Golden Shields were elite spearmen who had glimmering shields the color of gold with a black serpent painted onto them. Akyra needed a few of them to protect her if the denizens of Quindeki turned hostile.

—

The architecture of Quindeki consisted of boxy sand-colored stone and brick houses. In the center the town inn was the most prominent structure. At this late hour there was no one roaming about in the streets, although Akyra could hear activity coming from the inn, and see its windows illuminated with candle light.

Deliberately opening the door, Akyra steeped into the inn and took a look around. There were not many visitors in the bar area of the inn. A handful of mercs sat in a corner discussing matters in a tongue that Akyra could barley understand. Two falconers laughed as they enjoyed some Essyrn wine, but what caught Akyra's eye was a cold and shadowy figure that sat at the bar. Clearly a female, she possessed long flowing dark black hair that glowed faintly in the candle light as it was hung leisurely down to her waist. The female had dark tan skin that complemented her hair, and wore black battle worn armor that resembled her hair. Two glimmering swords hung from her belt, and a bow that was clearly arcane in nature was strapped over her shoulder.

Akyra perked up slightly with hope that these weapons the warrior wielded were divine, and began to approach the female.

"Hello?" Akyra asked, hoping to gain her attention.