warforged | [Locked to Redflight] Sent into battle

Who: Vastania and the Red Dragonsworn
What: After a bit of divine inspiration, Vas is digging in her hooves and organizing people.
Where: The Ruby Sanctum
When: Backdated to the 5th
Warnings: Nothing NSFW, but Vas is likely to literally knock some sense into people if they're stubborn. Nothing that'll hurt too bad, but enough to rattle most people.

"I kneel before You to beg Your aid."

The words of the prayer come more easily to her in Eredun than in Common. "I carry Your standard in a strange land, far away from the reach of the Exiles.

"There are demons at our neck. Guide my blade and let it cleanse them of their corruption. Let my shield be immovable, unable to buckle beneath their terrible blows.

"Grant me the strength to face my maddened forefathers. Let me not fall into their corruption even as I strike them." A pause. "Grant me the strength to tell my allies of the Defiled Ones, and bless them with the sense to see that I am of Your domain. Let them see that I am Exiled for following Your command and that of the Prophet."

Another pause. Her voice drops to a whisper, even though she knows that no-one else here speaks her native language.

"O Light, grant them sense, and me the strength to lead them!"

She waits, still kneeling, for an answer. The Light stirs, but it offers none.

Vastania waits a while still, silent. If Fin could see her now, she'd likely laugh until her tail fell off. No- Fin would knock her onto her tail and tell her to get back up, that's what she'd do. She'd ask what she was doing, dragging her hooves and moping when there was work to be done. And she'd have had these humans trained and drilled ten days ago.

The Light stirs again. Your answer.

The Vindicator looks up sharply. The Light is usually not very straightforward, but even she understands what this means. She utters a word of thanks and draws herself up, sheathing her sword. To be more like Fin... she closes her eyes for a moment and imagines what it must be like, to have those outstretched horns and heavy armor, carrying that claymore as if it was a feather. What it must be like to be so surefooted, so confident, that she might go into battle with a smirk on her face.

What she would do to prepare them if she was here. What she would do if the others refused to listen.

She walks to the edge of the Sanctum's central pond, then turns so she faces away from it. Vas breathes in deeply once, twice, to quell her shaking nerves. A third time, to clear her head.

A fourth, to issue her command.

"Dragonsworn, to me! Today, you will learn to be soldiers in this war against the Legion!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Now she's really - what's the human phrase, on a spin? On a roll? It doesn't matter. The lessons instilled by Thoiir are all coming back to her in full force. If only he could see her now, lecturing these Redsworn like a class of Vindicator candidates.

"The Annihilan," she starts, unable to prevent herself from sneering, "the so-called 'Pit Lords' are the military champions of the Legion. They are head and horns above any felguard in battle. You will know them on sight, for they have eight limbs - four legs, two arms, and two wings; a great scaly tail; and terrible tusks. The smallest among them are as big as the biggest draft horses, and they wield swords and axes with blades that are as long as a man is tall. Most are not cunning, but all can cut down a squad with one blow.

"I have yet to hear of a Pit Lord that was bested in single combat. They are difficult for even the most skilled armies to put down."

"I saw one of those."

Nepeta's eyes as she remembers the Pit Lord have the expression of a warrior that's seen an enemy they know they can't beat. There's fear in them, but a determination to survive and a thoughtfulness that shows she's already trying to figure out weaknesses or at least ways to escape.

"We'd just managed to get the dragon in when it came out of the forest. I knew right away I didn't want to fight it, I think I've only efur seen one or two things stronger than it, and our whole team was together when we fought things like that. The dragons had the advantage, though. Those wings don't seem strong enough fur it to fly."

This is the first time she's seen Nepeta up close, but she's no less strange here than from a distance. Though she's hardly one to judge, the troll's grey skin and bright green eyes are oddly unnerving even when she's proven to be completely harmless. Too reminiscent of the Legion, she supposes.

"N...no, they cannot fly, even if they tried. It is some small mercy, I suppose," she says. "You were lucky to have seen one and escaped unscathed."

To be completely fair to Vas, Nepeta is far from harmless if faced with an actual enemy. She is, however, firmly on the redsworn's side.

"Do you know what the purrpose of the wings is then? It seems kind of strange to have them if they can't fly with them."

"The purpose? Ehh..." she stalls. What is the point of having wings if they can't be used, anyhow? And even creatures that don't have wings might fly - she's seen her share of sporebats and nether rays that handily prove that.

"I... don't know. Fel magic can mutate those who use it, but I don't know if they had the wings before or after they joined the Legion." She shrugs.

"Maybe they used to be able to fly but then they got too big..." She just kind of muses over that for a little bit, rather bothered by the whole thing. They just seem so pointless.

"Well, I suppurrse they could help knock an enemy off their back. That's where I'd go if I had to fight something like that. Their backs are huge, so if you can move fast enough it wouldn't be hard to cause a lot of damage on them. Their hands would have trouble grabbing you. The wings might be able to make wind to knock you off though."

Vas opens her mouth to speak, raises a finger, and then promptly shuts her mouth again. She's spent her fair share of time studying demon-slaying tactics, but not once did any of the standard approaches ever touch on climbing a Pit Lord. What's more, the troll has accounted for potential problems in her approach.

"I- er- that is certainly one use for them," she finally concedes, after a moment of stunned silence. "You, ah, you are a tactician for your group?"

"No, that would be our leader, Karkat." Who to Nepeta's immense sadness had not accompanied them here. "But I am a hunter, and with most of the animals on Alternia, it's not the furst time I've had to take on things much larger than I am."

She brings out her claws and studies them thoughtfully. "I'd have to claw in really fair to do any major damage to something that big though. And I bet their skin is incredibly tough."

Vas has to force herself to not shrug again. "I've never fought one myself, but that is consistent with reports. Most of them will wear armor regardless of how tough their hides are."

In spite of her initial hesitation, though, the troll actually fascinates her. After talking with some of the other Redsworn, she's been expecting the youngest among them to be less tactically-inclined. "You say you hunt big game on your world?"

"That's right! It's how I kept myself fed, and got blood to paint with. I used to have huge murals of my hunts and my friends all up on the walls of my cave back home."

The fact that most people would consider painting with blood, even animal blood, to be odd does not occur to her.

Vas slowly covers her mouth with a hand. She's always considered herself to have a strong stomach, but the thought of painting anything in blood is nauseating. She's spilled plenty in her time, but making whole murals with it is so... so deliberate.

"Ahhhh- why don't we move along, yes?" Light and life, just let her change the subject. The last thing she needs is to be sick in front of the people she's lecturing.

"Oh right, um... so what exactly would you recommend doing if you run into one and you can't just avoid being seen?"

Well Vas has managed to prevent Nep from realizing just how close she came to making her lecturer lose her lunch completely inadvertently. Good job there.

She'd thank the Light that they've found something less disgusting to discuss, if they weren't discussing Pit Lords. Her face visibly pales, and she can't quite suppress the quiver creeping back into her voice.

"Your options then are... limited. You may fight, or you may flee." And one of those options will only delay the inevitable. Disgusting creature or not, the troll has a certain childlike sense about her. Telling her that her only option is to die is, well...

She still covers her mouth, but not because she feels sick.

"And... how much of a chance do you really have if you try to flee?" She had seen the size of the beast's legs. The steps it could take had to be enormous in length. Trying to run from something like that... Somehow she doubted it would work out all that well.

Vas is silent as she searches for something to say, something that will inspire hope. This one is not a soldier in this holy war. Being killed in the line of duty is something that she accepted long ago. Telling Nepeta to die for the glory of the Draenei and the Light won't have the same effect that it would on a fellow Vindicator.

In the end, all she has is silence. The troll will have to take that as she will.

The silence is enough. Nepeta gives a soft "ha" which is really more like a sigh than a laugh, and nods.

"Right. So you might as well go down fighting in that case. Well, there's only one thing to do then."

[Locked to Redflight] Sent into battle

PIT LORDS

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