[h2][center]— The Mailed Fist —[/center][/h2]
The desert sun beat down on Shaerel Nurami. The weather of Everstrine, at least as far as she had seen it, did not agree with her. She was accustomed to the mild summers of Barthon, a land seemingly perpetually blanketed by overcast. Some would call it dreary, but to Shaerel it was what home was like. She was eager to be out of the Great Dunes, which by her estimation seemed to be an endless sandscape. She did not like it. If Gargth hadn't seen them land he would certainly find them in the open desert, where only the dunes provided cover. 

Of course none of her concerns were made obvious to those around her. Her face remained as it usually was, her mouth drawn into a slight upturned smile. She was almost constantly dominated by an air of pleasantness. It was here that she would have to act the commander and the envoy- she must in one turn seem a capable, inspiring leader and in the next play the part of diplomat. She was unsure how the other commanders would take her; in her home country she was often regarded as little more than a novelty. She learned to play into the expectations of those around her. If she acted as the young foolish princess that men had expected her to be it would set them at ease making it all the easier to surprise them with her strength. This was the simpler way to navigate the political world of her home country, but here she fully expected things to be different. Different cultures would cross pollinate here in the Moonsong Alliance's second armada and she would not be treated as a princess. For all she knew she would be accepted all the same as the others, or perhaps she would be despised even more.

Time would tell, for now all she could do was march.

She looked to her right. There rode her faithful knight, Sir Amery Hartsweel. He towered above her on his great warhorse, looking more the commander than her. It irked her slightly but she had long learned to not let such feelings get in the way. For all she cared the other captains could think him commander, it was the opinion of her soldiers she cared about- the Everstrine campaign would end, hopefully soon, but if she could not prove herself here it would be a long while until she got the chance again. She saw Sir Hartsweel, who had been becoming more elderly by the day, wipe a line of sweat off his forehead with his iron gauntlet. The weather was treating him worse than her, that much was clear. She was sure his age was some factor. He was still a capable warrior, she knew, but she also knew that he didn't have much battle left in him. Soon he would be an old man and she would have to care for him as he cared for her. Such thoughts distressed her as no other could. To her Sir Hartsweel was the model of what a knight should be, and to see him slowly reaching the end of his knightly days was a sad thought. 

Plus she couldn't well find a new captain in the middle of the desert. She shook away the thought. She had no doubt that Amery would not just survive their campaign, but also prove her wrong. But all the same the idea gnawed at her.

To her left was her 'honor guard' so to speak, although they were less for her sake and more for her sword, Dorendul. Four men carried the wooden case containing the gargantuan weapon and another stood at their head. Their capes were marked red, distinguishing them from others in the company. The mans at their lead was Nivoh Sil'Sharin. His skin was brown burnished by long hours in the sun. Clearly he was used to the desert heat, having grown in a desert much like the Great Dunes. He was an ex-mercenary that had come to join her host, one whom she trusted in greatly. After all, she had given him the charge of protecting her Dorendul; a possession which she prized over all others. He had the additional benefit of being a towering behemoth of a man, and strong to boot. His race is a bastard crossbreed of humans and giants. She shuddered to think about how the two races copulated, but that mattered little. What was important is that he stood twice as large as any human man. Of course this is all to say that he can wield Dorendul almost as effectively as she can, making him a good choice to lead the caravan. 

And to her back was her host. 300 of the finest soldiers in Barthon wielding lances, swords, bows, and many other manner of weapon. She had no doubt they were capable soldiers but she had yet to see them in action. The men had been practicing together but she was still apprehensive of their first display in combat. She knew they were also apprehensive of her- she had gained their begrudging respect but she was acutely aware of their doubts. Able warrior she may be most wondered if a woman could truly lead men in battle. As long as they followed her orders she would let them hold their doubts, eventually she would give them no choice but to trust her command. She knew that despite her gender she could lead as able as any man, for she had been training her entire life for this opportunity. She spent her time studying tactics and the sword while other girls spent their time practicing knitting and manners.  

The time for her men to prove themselves would come sooner than she predicted. 

It all happened at once. She heard the terrible cackling voice behind her, coming from within their own army. It was Gargth- he had come to challenge them directly. Suddenly the orange sun had disappeared to be replace with clouds. It was the work of magic, not a natural change of the weather. She looked up to her captain and they exchanged a mutual nod. She took a deep breath, charging her body with the power of mana. She turned and called across her host, her voice booming across the dessert. "Prepare yourselves men! This is our chance to end the fight before it had begun!" The army wheeled itself around to face their enemy, the wizard that was now in the midst. Weapons were drawn and whispers were traded. The men were confused- the attack was coming from within, not without. The sky suddenly came alive with sparks of electricity and then there was no time for confusion. Bolts of arcane lightning striking the men below. In the place of those that fell to the magical strikes rose soldiers of sand- the enemy's forces were spawning from the ground below their feet, and the battle was joined before anyone knew it. She wheeled around to her right and called out, "Nivoh!" The half-giant nodded, Dorendul already in his hand. In one motion he tossed the gigantic sword towards her. She caught it by the hilt and raised it into fighting position. She turned to her opposite side, addressing her knight, "Amery, lead the cavalry as best you can- the enemy is already among us, assure that our own men do not get trampled by their charge." The knight nodded.

She did not hesitate- she would lead from the front. She braced herself and then took a great leap, diving into the spot where the fighting looked thickest, weapon in hand.