Battle of the Dead Fields, Part Two
Nineteenth Day of the Second Month 294 AC
Familiar sounds echoed back as though from a great distance. Wind, and rain, hollow thunder and the sounds of marching feet, bone and funerary shrouds through dead grass. She Who Brings Bountiful Peace looked out over the field of her subjects, and the strange allies she had found with a cold considering eye. She had been given the name in hope by a father who thought the birth of an heir would unite the realm once more, she had earned it in battle against a cousin who would rather wade in the blood of high and low alike rather than surrender the crown that was never his.
He was here, Namaaru sensed, even beyond the choking malice of the Lost Smith. She had guessed as much when the dragon king had told her that strange and tortured beasts marched with the enemy. Nimkuzu had always been skilled in artifice, fascinated with blurring the line between what was forged and what was living. He had studied with the Flesh Smiths of Valyria in his youth and some claimed that it was thence that his evil sprang from, but Namaaru had never held with that. A man's deeds were his own, for good and for ill, as were the secret desires of his heart. Circumstance may shape the bounds in which one's life was wrought, but a living soul was not a river to flow always in the same banks.
Nor even a dead soul. The queen laughed softly at the thoughts, looking about her self. Her driven Izuiuma was too accustomed to the way her mind wondered before battle to ask what had begotten the mirth, but the cold stranger from over the Sunset Sea looked at her curiously from where she stood besides the chariot.
The two mage lords who had been assigned to her flank would have never made so obvious an expression of interest, but Namaaru found she appreciated the girl Rina more for it, and she was curious herself how someone so innocent to the ways of seeking power had gained so much and of such a dark sort.
"Even in death choices do not end," the Queen of Sathar explained.
"For some, for the fortunate ones," the dark haired sorceress said, though her gaze seemed to say something very different from the words. A darkness was upon her that had naught to do with the shadows of this place and of this hour.
"Or for those very unfortunate, yes?" the queen asked. Beneath her ivory mask withered lips twitched into something like knowing a smile. "Not all who march or ride under the shadow of the enemy do so willingly."
"Yes..." the girl sighed. "We can't exactly take surrenders of the fallen can we. Not unless..." She trailed off, obviously unwilling to even say the whole thought aloud.
"Setting someone in chains of their very soul is twisted 'mercy' indeed. That is not expected of you. I ask only that you heal and bolster my hosts as you can."
"I shall not leave your side, majesty," the young sorceress replied, sounding relieved. Namaaru could taste the night wind around her, and she had no doubt that the girl could keep up with even her chariot, but there was another matter that needed to be addressed.
Long ago she had learned that not all hearts had the courage to face the greater foes, though they might be unwavering before lesser ones. Handing her a brass far-eye worked with old magics the queen replied, "Look thee there in the heart of the storm and see he whom I must face again. Know that I will not think less of you, nor have poor words for your king, if you should choose another path."
"What... what the hells is that?" Rina said putting the device to her eye. "It looks like some kind of great tiger, no are those quills on its back, and six legs?"
"I know not what it is called in your tongue, but as Sathar recalls the legend from the days before Huzhor Amai, it was called
Bandersnatch, a beast of a kindred thought vanished from the earth until one who would claim the throne of Sathar found one and bound it with deep and perilous magics. Most sorcery cannot touch it, and in strength alone it is a match for all but the oldest dragons. What it has been made in death, I know not, but I have slain it once and I shall do so again."
"
Graveborne," the girl half-whispered is some cold jagged tongue Namaaru did not speak, but understood just the same through borrowed magic. "Why do you think he's here, I mean..." she flushed in embarrassment.
"Likely for the same reason I am, a dying plea of desperate souls. To the heroes of old, Nimkuzu was a hero of sorts. By that I mean only skill and ambition, not justice, temperance, or any of the qualities that separate us from beasts," the queen replied absently. "You killed his greater pets in your raid. I have no doubt that his guard holds many other horrors, and his army filled with like-minded sorcerers. He never did fight dragons, though..." The ivory mask turned upwards as she beheld the great beast her ally had left to protect the skies over this flank. It had surely earned its fearsome name in the Sunset Lands, and this day it would surely earn them again.
How does Namaaru attack at extreme range?
[] Commit the dragons and the Heralds only
[] Send in everyone that can attack at along range including fight capable mages
[] Write in
OOC: Hope this does not feel like too much exposition all at once. Not yet edited.