War Stories Pt 5
Sir Berlot marched the lower section of the market, he heaved a slow sigh, deep inside he knew it was not for a Knight to crave battle; and he knew that Tukin needed to be protected whilst most of the senior knights were away. He still could not help feeling saddened that he was chosen to be left behind. Of the 30 Knight of Tukin, twenty had left for the battle of Highport leaving ten remaining with the militia to watch over the city, about half of those left behind were rather young knights, which is why the remaining five had been selected from the Cities most honoured knights, Sir Tristen himself had chosen to stay, watching over the city with the famed blade of Townsaver. He looked over to his squire Judd who was sorting out a disagreement between a merchant from the A of A and a private merchant on sale rights within the city. He shook his head trying to focus on the attack, which was when he first heard it
Instinct took over as he hand touched his hilt, the blade became brilliant at a touch and through years of long practice he grasped the suddenly free falling blade and spun bringing it up in a quick slash.
He felt a stabbing pain in the side, as with a blink devils began appearing around him each lunging forth with flaming forked spears. Throughout the town and market the popping noises were quickly showed by first the screams of terror, then the screams of anguish and finally, much too slowly, the warning bells calling the militia to arms. Sir Barret gritted his teeth and focused on the moment swinging at his enemies trying to drive them back enough that he could assess the grander field… it did not appear good, Devils would pop in behind or beside someone, murder them and pop to their next target, anyone that provided any resistance would have the number of devils attacking them doubled every few seconds until they were overwhelmed and killed.
“JUDD, TO ME!” he called hoping his squire still lived and that they could provide each other cover while they fought, beyond that he let his training take over. Kill a devil, side step the blast, deflect a blow, repeat.
Townsaver hummed as it sliced through four senior devils in a single blow. Sir Tristen had little control of the blade; it seemed to carry him throughout the battle unerringly taking killing blows on each foe it encountered. The palace itself was doing well, three knights had been their when the attack had been sprung, and its defenses kept anything from teleporting in or out, the city proper however was a different story. Sir Tristen had been on the southern walls when the initial attack had begun, quickly he had pulled together some militia members and were working their way through the markets and residences to try and aid any they could. Now he seemed to have found the leadership behind the attack. A Large Pit Fiend stood in front of the newly renovated church of Gabriel, he laughed with glee as his urine steamed on the door. He was flanked by four large devils a host of smaller ones, a few imps and a man dressed in the grey robes of a monk. Sir Tristen waved backed the militia men with him, they would only die in a fight of this magnitude
“Find any other knights, alert them to where I am, and send them here at once!” his horse whisper demanded of the closest spearmen, the man nodded thankful the knights order wasn’t charge, and turned running to find some support for his defender.
“You dare desecrate the Holy church of Gabriel? That act will be your last fiend!” the knight growled as he surged forward. If the Pit Fiend was worried he did not show it, he waved and his devils surged against the paladin. It was an odd sensation that Townsaver gave; he could feel the scratches and tare at his skin, he could feel the bones break, yet there was no pain, nor did it inhibit movement. In moments most of the smaller fiends were dispatched as well as two of the larger ones. This was when the robbed man stepped forward and whispered the word
“Now great Devil Prince” the voice was familiar, Sir Tristen squinted at the face under the hood, he felt it was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. the Pit fiend turned but did not charge forth immediately, instead… he spoke.
“Sir Tristen of Tukin is it? the not quite hand of the king?” Tristen didn’t wait; he stepped forward and began battling another of the Devils bodyguards… if this thing wanted to chit chat while doing it so much the better. The Pit Fiend chuckled but continued “I just want you to know that now that we have found you, we are done. Even as I speak my devils are receiving their orders not to harm a single other person in Tukin, and whether you kill me or not, they shall leave, we are here only to kill you!” Sir Tristen looked to the side wondering where the creature was going with this; his hands knew their work well and spun into a final swing dispatching the body guard he had been fighting. The grey robed man removed his hood and spoke with the Pit Fiend…
“That should do it” Zaheer said. Almost as if on cue, Townsaver stopped humming. Sir Tristen looked to his blade and back to the enemy in the second before he felt the pain and wounds of all the creatures he’d been fighting hit him at once, he was momentarily staggered, and the pint fiend jumped on that opportunity leaping forward and baring down with sword wing claw and tail. The Grey robed monk did not sit ideally by he came in his fists a flurry of movement pummeling the knight and blocking any means of escape.
Later, the large twisted claws of the devil reached down and wrapped around the hilt of Townsaver. With an easy swing the head rolled from the neck of the once bastion of good. His other clawed hand grabbed the head and used the hair to tie it to his belt. He looked at the blade admiringly
“Remember our deal” Zaheer scolded the Devil looked hard at the little man who presumed to give him such tone, eventually he stabbed the sword through the knight’s armor, so it stood erect out of his back pinning him to the cobble stone street below.
“Let’s go” the creature hissed at a nearby imp, and with that the devils began to vanish from the city.