Battle of the Dead Fields, Part Eight
Nineteenth Day of the Second Month 294 AC
There were few knights on the field that day as the dragon banners fluttered against a darkening sky, but Ser Richard did not regret the lack as he looked out over the ordered ranks of the first legion from above. He had trained these soldiers, he had fought beside them in the night battle for Tyrosh he had seen them ride out to bring the King's will to realms far and wide. In gold they might have been paid, but their oaths rang no less true, their courage no less fierce before a foe others would flee from in terror.
Part of him regretted that he could not be there to hold the line, to bolster and encourage, to lead them on, but his place was here in the sky flying upon wings of steel, his place as ever was to protect the King, any notion that this might not be required dismissed at the sight of the 'cold lightning' striking first the King then the High Justice.
All but stopped the dragon lord's heart at that, Richard knew that behind his carefully measured words and saturnine smiles, Malarys Vanor was tough enough to fight dragons in the sky with good odds of coming out ahead.
He glanced at the princess. "Do you know any spells for sharper eyes? I want to see what's coming, but the damn cloud is getting in the way."
"Ah... sure." She did something with her magic too fast for him to follow, Richard had naturally focused on learning of the spells an enemy might try to use against him, and this one definitely wasn't it.
He could see far now, as far perhaps as a dragon on the wing, and what he could see was not to the knight's liking. Oh, there were square upon square of lesser dead, hollow bones moved by the power of their masters, likely to be easy fodder for the blades of the legion and the grave stone arrows, but the officers in ornate chariots and accursed armor were ones he could recognize all
too well, ruin they carried with them. Few in the legion would be able to stand up to that for long, though the mages and engineer companies would likely have better luck. As long as they could be whittled down enough before they struck the lines, Richard was confident they would hold.
Worse still, for the first time during the battle the sky was not uncontested. Whirling masses of bone and spite rose from the ranks of the enemy, seeming to drink in the lightning and devour the thunder of the storm. Though Richard did not know the proper name of the things, Wisdom Teana to his left did.
"
Storm Sorrows, as dangerous in their own ways as a dragon on the wing... a young dragon," she added, as though that made it better given that there seemed to be more than a hundred of the things floating above the enemy army. Then maybe she was just saying that so the two wyrms circling with them would not take it for a challenge and get mobbed like a hawk against a flock of starlings.
As though that was not enough, there were deathly wagons rolling around behind the hosts of the enemy, alike to those used by the armies of Sathar. Behind them were six
spirits, black as the storm clouds, bound somehow with chains of true steel to an altar of bone upon which rested a hammer fit for a giant's hand.
How does the center strike against the enemy at extreme range?
[] Send in the Moonchasers to try to kill as many of the Storm Sorrows as possible
[] Send in the dragons to try to disrupt enemy formations and keep the elites from disrupting the Legion's lines
[] Write in
OOC: Finding undead with breath weapons that are not dragon based is surprisingly difficult, ones based on electricity even more so, but fortunately Pathfinder had something. Not yet edited.
