The village looked lifeless, the only movement noticeable was the waterwheel of
the mill to the east. No door was opened, each window was shuttered, and the
only noise was the dying wind of dusk. A cloud of dust hung over the village,
and after years of military experience, Donmed could tell there was a large
number of Magnagoran marauders there. The dust cloud could tell many things.
From the fact of its existence, it showed how they were in a hurry to hide or
run, and he suspected that as they moved closer he would find hastily covered
tracks that would give a more accurate number. But for now, he only knew their
number was great.

Donmed turned, heading back to his small army encamped behind a large hill.
This would be the night additional strategies and tactics would be decided
before they retook Delport. If all went well, they will have purged the village
of the Tainted people by the same time tomorrow.

He smiled as he looked out across the camp. Hundreds of extra campfires had
been lit upon his orders, tended by groups of two or three. Any scouts the
Magnagorans sent out would be dreadfully afraid of the army of hundreds
--perhaps thousands-- that New Celest had employed. Naturally, they'd be
wrong. His "army" only consisted of seventy soldiers, complimented by a group
of six Aquamancers, but the lightshow would likely convince them otherwise. He
glanced up, noting the orange glow upon the clouds above. The fires were
already visible to the heavens, and the sun hadn't already set fully yet. His
smile grew as he pictured some of his more cowardly enemies running off during
the night simply from this display.

Entering his pavilion, he sat at the head of a table where his commanders sat.
There were eight of them--seven Paladins like himself and the most powerful
Aquamancer as a representative to the rest. He nodded to each of them, then
referred to the single opened map on the table. "It seems that the members of
the group responsible for the overtaking of Delport have hidden themselves
among the civilian population, or they have simply killed everyone, hidden the
bodies, and are now using their homes as shelter for themselves."

"What of troop numbers? Did you or any of our scouts manage to find the number
of soldiers they've deployed?" The speaker, another Merian named Sriga, waited
for a response quietly.

"No, unfortunately not," was the answer Donmed gave. He turned to the
Aquamancer, Dirati, and spoke, "However, I was hoping that our mages might
possibly be able to do something about this." A nod from the mage was
immediate, and he quickly responded with a quick sentence; "I'll have our
Dreamweaver scout the area tonight. He won't get caught, and is well qualified
for this."

Donmed continued with other details. "Regardless of the civilian status, we
are going to have to ensure that as little damage is done to the buildings of
the village as possible. Brega, this is a particular warning for you. I don't
want any repetition of the last time you chose to ignore that order."

Brega, a hulking mass of an Igasho who had spent most of his life trying to
look more intimidating than anyone else he saw--and usually succeeding at
it--shrugged helplessly. "It wasn't my fault that beam got in the way of my
swing. I'm not an engineer; I didn't know it was vital to keep the building
standing. Besides… it was a pretty small building."

"Small for you, perhaps. But the rest of us couldn't quite appreciate you
decimating it with us all inside." He turned back to his other commanders
before Brega could reply. "Our basic strategy remains the same as it always has
though. We enter from the northwest, and trap them against the sea. Two of our
Aquamancers will use the Upper and Lower Estengare rivers as their demesnes,
and fence them in from the north and south. Afterwards, it'll be street to
building fighting. We'll have to clear out each home sequentially in order to
drive them out. If we miss one, we'll be fighting on two fronts. Regardless of
how few there would be if we were to miss one building, they'd still manage to
deplete quite a few of us while are backs are turned."

Sriga, who had not been to any previous strategy sessions, inquired, "And what
is our aim then? Simply to kill each of them?" The response by Donmed came
swiftly, as though he were expecting such a question. "If need be. But in
truth, that will be where you and the remainder of the Aquamancers will come
in. We'll be pressing down on them, like a hammer to an anvil, but our anvil is
only themselves." A frown by Sriga--as well as a few other less informed
officers--showed that they didn't quite follow. "We'll be driving them into the
sea. Following that, the Aquamancers will trap them from progressing further
with icewalls, placed at a depth where a man could just stand high enough that
he didn't have to struggle to keep his head above water. Following, we ask any
who would prefer not to freeze to death in the night to surrender themselves,
and become prisoners of the Grand Duchy of Celest--something I'm quite sure
they would not do for us." A majority of the commanders seemed to have their
questions answered.

The pavilion was silent for a short time, and Donmed judged that any further
questions would have to come the following morning, when enough information was
gathered by the Dreamweaver Sriga would deploy. "Are there any other concerns?"
Sriga chuckled slightly. "I should very much doubt that."

Curious, Donmed decided to go along and say the question Sriga was likely
expecting. "Why do you say that?" Smiling, the middle-aged Aquamancer smoothly
replied, "None of us, or at least most of us, do not fear those who are--for
want of a less offending term--dumber than ourselves."

Jiada, an Aslaran and one of the only two females in attendance, gave a short
laugh. "You dedicated your entire life to knowledge, and just now you point out
that those bloody Mags are dumber than us. I was half-expecting you to bring up
something we didn't already know." A few of the others laughed quietly.

Sriga continued. "Well, it's actually possible to prove. Think of it: people
inevitably destroy what they do not understand. And considering that they exist
solely to destroy… well, it just reflects how they seem to be about as brilliant
as a sack of dirt." A chorus of laughter rose from all of them now, but it soon
faded as they turned their attention back to their leader.

Donmed shook his head, still chuckling a little. "All right, all right. We'll
make that a little more obvious for them tomorrow." Standing, he dismissed each
and stood outside a moment after each had gone.

Gazing out over his sea of campfires and armour, he smiled. He was proud of
his force, not only because of the time he had spent training with them, and
later actually training them, but also his pride grew from what they
represented. Like the great Inner Sea, they were like a great tide of liberty.
Tomorrow, Delport would be won.

* * *

Morning came swiftly, and the once blazing fires now smouldered near-death.
Wispy columns of smoke rose from their pits, climbing higher and higher until
they mixed in with the cloudy grey of pre-dawn. Once again, the commanders
gathered in the pavilion.

"Our Dreamweaver has managed to find a majority, if not all, of the Magnagoran
troops. We have also learned that the civilians are indeed still alive." Sriga
shrugged, finishing his report. "There isn't much else to say. Besides pointing
out that now we have potential hostages to deal with." Each of the commanders
nodded quietly. It was unlikely that they would resort to such an act,
otherwise their attempt at gaining a foothold would be met with great
resistance anywhere else they tried, but it was still a possibility the
Magnagorans would exploit if they felt they were going to lose.

"Do we have any other ideas now? Anything someone might have thought of
overnight? Brega, put your hand down." Donmed's comment caused a few of the
others to chuckle shortly, but everyone else in the room knew it was the kind
of nervous laugh one has before going into battle. The laughter stopped shorter
than it might have otherwise.

The long silence was broken by Sriga, who said, "Well, I suppose I'd better
get the rest of my guild mates into position. I trust you will be ready when we
are?"

A small nod from Donmed was all the mage waited to see before leaving. "Well…
we all know what we're doing then. Jiada, Brega, make sure not to get too far
ahead of each other this time."

Jiada shrugged indifferently. "It shouldn't be a problem this time. I'll make
sure to make my unit walk slowly for Brega and his little division." A small
growl--small by Igasho standards, at least-- issued from Brega. "Of course,"
she continued, "It isn't always a bad thing to have someone slowing you down.
Less chance of an ambush."

Donmed rolled his eyes, along with a majority of the other commanders.
However, he wasn't complaining. A more friendly competition was good for troop
morale. He asked dryly, "Any other important rivalries to discuss?"

A brief chuckle from the commanders finished with a quick chorus of "No,
sir."

"Good to hear it," said Donmed, who looked towards the open entryway of the
pavilion. The sun was still hiding beyond the horizon, beyond the great
mountain ranges of the Basin, but its light still managed to precede it. It
would be dawn in little more than an hour, and the morning mists now seemed to
almost glow with the light from an unseen source. "Because now," he continued,
"is time to begin our assault. Assemble our brigade. Let us cleanse the land of
the taint our enemy has brought."

* * *

The unit dispatched from Magnagora stood nervously, their commander perched
above them on a small platform. Their ranks disorganized and their morale low,
they were a sorry group to look upon. It was almost enough for Donmed to
regret having to eradicate them. But only almost. They were the oppressors
here, not he. They were the ones who revolved around death and the Taint. His
resolve remained strong.

Raising his hand, Donmed signalled his troops to ready themselves. He was
never one for speeches, and he rarely gave one to raise morale. It often worked
better not to say anything at all, and let the troops see how confident he was
that they did not need encouraging. They respected him, and he they, for they
each gave one another a better sense of pride and courage whenever they were
near one another. Where Donmed led, the brigade zealously followed.

It seemed as though a great amount of time had passed with his hand in the
air. By the time he started to drop it, the soldiers were already charging. And
he ran with them, meeting his adversary's counter charge with all the power he
could bring from within.

* * *

Brega outpaced his unit, his armour glinting in the sun, and his swords making
great arcs down at his opponents as he mowed through the grunts of the opposing
force. Before long, there was a great pile of bodies surrounding him; several
missed arms, others missed legs, and still more missed their heads. By the
time the rest of his unit caught up with him, the packed dirt road he stood
upon was already slicked and turned to mud by the crimson water of the bodies
before him. That was when Brega saw his match.

A single, great eye stared over the head surrounding the massive body it was a
part of. Wielding a pair of enormous spiked maces, the Krokani began his
approach. For a brief instant, it seemed as though they were the only two in
the battle; for another, it seemed that they would charge through the crowd
separating them and lock in the art of death, but these moments quickly
dissolved. Brega's division was quickly cutting through the disheartened
Magnagorans, and with a disgusted grimace, the enemy captain turned away,
striding quickly down the roadway without making it look as though he was in a
hurry to get away.

Brega knew what his adversary was doing. He was going to coax him away from
his unit. Logic and caution now battled with instinct and anger. The baser side
of him won, and he sprinted after him, knocking aside any adversary that stood
between them. His enemy was no longer a nation, or a nation's army. His enemy
now had a face to concentrate his anger upon.

* * *

Jiada ran through the streets with the lithe strength and speed each of her
ancestors had given her. Her twin blades ripped through everything they
encountered, and though she was largely covered with the gore of her
unfortunate adversaries, she was able to ignore it well. Years of the same
experiences had made her numb to it. Not numb, she realized, but colder, at
least. She skidded to a halt, letting her unit catch up to her. Glancing about
herself, she spotted two enormous figures running along further ahead, emerging
from behind the enormous focal point of the small village, Chateau d'Amour. They
disappeared again behind more buildings, but before she could try to move after
them to get a better viewing, a clattering from the hemp mill behind her
attracted her attention. Before she turned, she knew what she was going to see.

A teeming, dark mass of infantry was now streaming out the entryway of the
ignored mill, and Jiada silently cursed herself for letting her division fall
behind. She could see them frantically trying to mow through the enemy, but
they'd be too late by the time they got to her. Shrugging, she raised both her
blades in dramatic defiance, letting the few Magnagorans who had broken off to
take her down know she was ready for anything. The first who reached her had
additional reinforcement to this lesson in the form of cold steel.

"Get back to those tainted crags that spawned you," she said calmly. Then, as
she struck another, "And tell your Demonlords of Nil that Jiada sent you all to
join them!" Like a pinnacle of rock in a black sea she stood, giving no quarter
and expecting to receive none. Up until the moment the sky seemed to take the
fight into its own hands.

Clouds of deep blue swirled above her, and lightning was seen through the
previously clear morning sky. Pain in the form of falling ice greeted the
several Magnagorans who had laid the ambush, and now as they struggled to stay
alive, let alone standing, Jiada felt a strange feeling inside herself. She
couldn't quite interpret it as anything felt in the natural world, but she
simply knew that Sriga was approaching somehow. Abruptly, the scrawny mage
appeared.

Sriga nodded to Jiada as the hailstones continued to drop from the storm
clouds above. As the Magnagorans continued to fall from the unrelenting
pummelling, several members of her division stood in silent awe of the display,
or simply waited for the event to pass. The more experienced troops had seen
this form of selective destruction before.

The mage spoke as though nothing out of the ordinary had passed, and
commented, "I see that you might have run into a little bit of trouble here,
hmm? No matter, though I suggest that you continue to meet your objective
shortly. Though I am unaware of the actual situation, I my recent scries reveal
that he is well ahead of you. Oddly, his unit is not. They are alive, and as
well as any in their position can be, but they simply haven't been able to keep
up with him."

"Frankly, I'm not surprised. He's always been a show off," Jiada mused,
"perhaps I should do better." Glancing at the arcane and apparently jaded
Merian, she told him, "You try merging my unit with Brega's. I'm going after
him now. I'm not going to let him look better than me, and since there can't
possibly be any more ambushes waiting for me--don't give me that look, Sriga--
I'll just be on my way. Just make sure our units get to their objectives." And
with this, she dashed off after the two hulking forms she'd seen earlier.

* * *

The enormous spiked mace swung by Brega's face, scraping off a small piece of
skin from his cheek. It was a bad move on the Krokani's part--getting an Igasho
angrier is never a good idea to anyone who was even fractionally smaller.
Hacking down at the one-eyed creature's head, Brega issued an indistinguishable
snarl of rage at his attack missing. Or perhaps it was blocked. At this time,
Brega didn't care.

But a lack of care always leads to a mistake, and now was no difference. For
an instant, there was confusion in Brega's mind as his vision was filled with
blue sky, but not once did he even consider that he had been toppled over by
his adversary. At least, not until he saw the monstrous face looking down at
him with a mace held high. At this point, Brega knew it was over; there was no
way for him to get up in time. Taking a breath, he waited, and just as the mace
began to swing from above the Krokani's head to dispatch him, a sudden figure
bolted into his field of vision. As dust from the newly arrived filled his
eyes, Brega frantically stood, and cleared them.

Finally, when he had cleared all the particles he could in such a time, he was
met with the sight of the Krokani's back to him. He could recognise Jiada's
grunts of effort as she fought a creature almost twice as big as her, and knew
she would be hard-pressed before long. Instinctively, he hacked down at the
Magnagoran commander; his sword splitting his head and travelling along next to
the spine. The former combatant didn't even have time to realize he was dead

The corpse fell, and Jiada stood there, looking disappointed. "That," she said
indignantly, "was not fair. I had him right where I wanted him, and you took all
the glory with an attack from behind."

Brega shrugged. "Life's not fair. In fact, life's a pain. But then again, so
are you. Considering that I've gotten used to you, the least you can do is get
used to life."

Jiada stared at him flatly, her eyes narrowed.

"This rivalry has just gotten bigger, hasn't it?"

Jiada nodded.

"Just making sure. But now what? Our units have probably already cleaned out
the chateau."

"Now, we find Donmed and help him if he needs us."

* * *

Donmed stood upon the beach, his uniform impeccable and untarnished. Well,
this one was, at least. The one he actually fought in was stained, dented, and
tattered, depending upon which part of it was examined. Standing there,
attempting to look intimidating, he looked out over the Magnagorans standing
neck-deep in the water of the Inner Sea. If any people had ever looked
defeated, it was they. Several of them were now trudging out, complying with
his demands in that they would surrender or freeze. Some, who were near any of
the more patriotic or malevolent soldiers were killed by their former comrades,
but most ignored them, resigned to their own fates.

Glancing up at the noon sun, Donmed smiled. Delport was retaken in an even
shorter time than he would have thought possible. Turning, he walked by his
commanders and Sriga, than headed towards his now-moved pavilion. His ranks
stood in order, looking as imposing as possible to the Magnagorans trapped in
the waters. Only a handful had fallen to their enemy's blades, and though he
felt remorse for their poor souls, he could not help feeling as though he had
lost nothing. Silently thanking Terentia and Hajamin for his victory, he
smiled again.

Today was a good day indeed.