The Forsakening

~ PASSAGE 97 ~
THE FORSAKENING
MYCRAN 15 ~ 8 AM: Spring winds whipped out of the south blowing sturdily across the backs of knights lined in tight, prompt rows as they held their equestrians firm. Everything was in place; weapons sharpened, armor strapped, and emotions exhuberant. StarPoint Raven and their Pinedroidian charge were grouped to the back of the procession waiting for the blowing of the silver trumpets; the official start to any war in Zegithir. The team was reminded that they were to be a part of the battle and that their pardon from crime was termed to this agreement. Abandoning the army on its march to the fortress would be noted as desertion and a mandatory life sentence in the stockade would be imposed. If Raven ever thought of leaving, they had better be clever and understand the price involved with their escape. Their freedom would only be guaranteed once the track of the starpoint was regained and Pinedroi notified....and not before then.
The spiritual leader, Oktavianus, rubbed his holy symbol in blessing and noticed Nanith standing nearby. He became instantly flushed with red temper, but tried concentrating on the seriousness of their venture ahead. The team was given steeds for the battle, but they would be returned if they were to press into terrain inaccessable by a horse, such as a swallowing cavern, underground tunnels, or rocky mountain terrain. The equestrians were a special breed called "Klasrfas"; mounts capable of finding their way home under any circumstance {among other special hidden abilities}. They stood tall, jet black and sparked confidence that radiated from undauntless eyes. Erelis pat his own gelding that he personally helped rescue from a barn fire the previous week. The animal had a singed mane that stripped it of former glamour, but it was still hearty in constitution and fit for the trail.
When the final subtleties of direction were affirmed, a customary ode was sung by a Marclaen bard and a band struck up the fiery anthem "Laureate of the Heath." Mercenary warriors shouted praise in roars that vibrated the grounds as the silver trumpets set loose the initial waves of fighting men unleashed from the upper gates.
The dwarf's pony bumped him to climb aboard the saddle and the new fellowship awaited their turn to step foot into an orchestrated war calculated to their advantage.
7 PM: Pace was high as the mares stamped along the beaten road north. StarPoint Raven kept their wits about them even though they were secure in the fact that they would be well-protected from any serious harm whilst behind the fighting force.
As predicted, the army halved and melted into the Nalmiar forest 25 miles from the hordepath the fellowship headed towards. As the scoutrangers moved west into the brush, mercenaries gained the orc trail and moved at an unrelenting step towards the fortress. Adrenaline kept the mood high all that day and little was needed in the way of recuperation because everyone knew that time was a factor in the initial strike.
10 PM: Despite the overcast sky, pallor from the clouds held the scene quite visible as the warriors encroached the looming fortress. Mud, which seemed a virtual impediment almost a week before, was dried and allowed an effortless launch of steeds up the small rise. StarPoint Raven were poised to expect the worst, but hapless wondering began to creep into their minds; what were they to accomplish here? Was this the starpoint trail or were they forced into another dead end by the judiciary of Pinedroi?
The stallions rounded the obsidian tower with swift determination. Crumbling ruins of the old keep were a pitiful sight amongst the gallantry now flooding its outland perimeter. What the fellowship saw then as they rounded the back of the walls was more shocking then what they were first expected to encounter. There was not a trace of orc or evil humanoid to be seen!....anywhere!!!
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