|Submitted By: Date: August 27, 2005, 05:52:43 AM Views: 1262
|Summary: The heat coming off the form was nearly unbelievable. It was tireless, huge, and all-powerful as it came crashing down the field. It as all Rael could do to keep up, his legs half as long as that of the rushing form. His mind not his own, he nearly didn't notice how they rushed through and passed a group of guardians, configuring their weapon to give them covering-fire. He could not think straight.
The heat coming off the form was nearly unbelievable. It was tireless, huge, and all-powerful as it came crashing down the field. It as all Rael could do to keep up, his legs half as long as that of the rushing form. His mind not his own, he nearly didn't notice how they rushed through and passed a group of guardians, configuring their weapon to give them covering-fire. He could not think straight.
The Call of War was all that echoed in his mind, and even though it was a constant whisper even in peace-time it was now an all-consuming roar that filled his entire being. Turning his head right he saw the lithe form of another of the Court, vaulting over a toppled pillar, her long-bladed weapon swinging behind her as if it was a toy of some kind. Right behind him he heard the metal-chime of small bells, fastened to the end of the firepike of the last of five in this group. He, himself, carried his sword in hand, pistol drawn, brushing aside the odd branch now and again, intent to keeping pace with the one before him.
Many would see the Court rushing down the field and figure that the huge form in the middle lead the charge, but this was not so. The leader was Raelâ€™s old teacher, from a time when the path had not claimed him, and silence was true silence, not the constant whispers of war in him. Now this mentor rushed before him, his gun strapped to his back, his hands outstretched to either side, trailing white and golden flames.
Their advance was swift, and yet he could sense the rest of the Storm around him. For he was in the middle of a storm. A storm of blades, hatred, and cold fire. This fire was tapped from the figure right beside him, and it now roared in defiance as the defenders before them opened fire. Rael felt something ricochet off his armour, but could not force himself to wonder if he had been hit or not. Any impulse of pain was lost in the roar of the Cry. He tried, one more time, to recall the face of his father, but found that even this was lost in the Cry. Struggling no longer he abandoned the last of his calm and rational mind, setting it adrift in the Cry, and letting himself become one with the God of War as they all crashed into the line of defenders.
His own actions were never recorded in his own mind; his armour knowing full-well after centuries of combat how to swing, stab and cut such simple things as these beings before him. He studied, instead, the others. A hissing and chiming noise behind him told him that just before they had made contact with the defenders his comrade had fired the firepike, severing the string holding the bells up, letting them rest on the ground of the first kill. He saw a defender fall backwards, clutching his shoulder and face as they began burning off. He saw the lithe red-headed woman vault over the first obstacle in her path; a man with his fists and knife raised, ignoring him, and sweeping her blade into his brother, a man still trying to fasten his weapon on his back. His own mentor grabbed a defender, lifting him into the air and snapping him in two, his hands obscured by the hotly burning flames.
And, finally, the form, the thing that was the center of the Cry of War, fought. It ploughed through the defenders as if they were not even there, brushing them aside almost casually, but not leaving one unharmed. Even with the casual sweeping their heads fell from their bodies, blood sprayed over the form and limbs were torn as the Avatar barreled towards the back of the defender's position. Rael lifted his eyes, cutting two more defenders, and saw a champion there, readying his weapons as the Avatar came rushing in. Rael lifted from the ground in a leap, his mentor doing the same, and they hit the ground running, pacing the Avatar towards what appeared to be the commander of this outpost. Behind him he heard defenders giving chase being cut down by the two of his Court still behind him, and he focused ahead.
They came unto this group of warriors, their Champion in the middle, and Rael ducked low, sweeping off legs with his sword as his mentor dove into the middle of the group, savaging a man as he passed, his finger leaving burning marks on his cheek. The Avatar bellowed, and lifted its weapon. The enemy commander, triumphant, lifted his weapon, striking the Avatar across the body, and Rael saw the man's face drop as the Avatar didn't even seem to notice. The Wailing Doom came down, and cut the man in half where he stood. Rael dispatched another three defenders before he felt the reassuring presence of his battle-sister behind him, knowing all was clear now. The Court turned, as one, and rushed up the field, as defenders scrambled to redirect their fire towards their advance. The rest of the Storm, all filled with the Cry of War, swept into the hole they had just made in the defender's line, and began the battle anew, cutting apart the enemies that would threaten them.
Rael did not care. He could not care. He was consumed by the Cry of War, and the consuming heat coming off the form of the Avatar at the center of the Court.
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