(Unfinished. Had to edit the post after Goldeagle's posts were retconned.)
[center][h3][i]Mainland southwestern Ouroborasia, the Battle of Iviragne[/i][/h3]
Ostrob - 300 AWH[/center]

[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/488d2657-b712-4ce6-a9ca-26578e619cba.jpg[/img]
The Ghoulish march[/center]


The windswept plains of Ouroborasia are beset by dark clouds, their bleak and dominating presence in the sky engulfing the light and casting there the shadow of Uudhin... From afar the demon hordes moved in, holding aloft the hellish braziers and standards to represent the celestial Prince who made them. Sauntering, dragging, clawing, crawling in their myriads of unsightly and ghastly manifestations. Not quite animal, not quite man, and not quite natural even by the contorted standards of Materia. Their clamouring is heard far and wide as the spawn to the fore beat harsh drums, slam sinister gongs and blow on crude, screeching trumpets.

Tactician Kè; a commander of the Ghouls of Ouroborasia, who has been bred with the wit and guile to trample his enemies, addresses the rows of other prominent Ghouls that had gathered to him. Each of them look diverse enough that one would be hard-pressed to think they belong to the same vile race. They are the Tacticians Ghirjûn, Jauka, Eiyzayun and Glûstremm, standing before him. Each of them stoutly built, about the size of an adult man or longer, and of a superiour breed. Kè alone is the one that lacks any physical presence for he outwardly appears unseemingly sickly and gaunt, a plucked bird with an exposed ribcage and limp appendages of a man.

[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/3fcd09d6-e88e-45d3-b130-60acf67253c2.jpg[/img][/center]

Kè speaks and hisses with harshly guttural sounds. 

[b]''Ioïnro kauteran ihzan dûrxa taan, lôhrung ranz...
Axoa Uudhi deikûr sîy reiyharx ung.''
[/b]
Eiyzayun retorts.
[b]''Ghaok taan lôhrunga razi âth Ourokûra...?''[/b]
And the other three seem to agree with him more than Kè, leaving the Ghoul tactician flustered and angry. Scolding at them.
[b]''Tâk ath, ung Axoa deikûr Uudhi taan Uudhin! Cáarath! Baoth! Parokôk!''[/b]

[i][b]''Axoa kâthar! Axoa dûyvil! Axoa kâthar! Axoa dûyvil! Axoa kâthar!''[/b][/i]
The tacticians all cry in a hellish choir.


The other Ghouls that march and encircle the city of Iviragne seem to overhear and respond as if by instinct to the cry of Kè, and now screech the same choir in unison. Their tens of thousands of cries produce such a deafening wave of sound that the inhabitants of the city and the garrison manning the wall dread dearly what is to come. In the face of this multitude of foes and the hellish tumult they create, Justinian's voice is smothered utterly; reduced to the nothingness. For years Ouroborasia has been a dark and forsaken land, far removed and forgotten by the Pale Star of the West. Only the Red Stars of the Axohar Cohort grace the soil now. The lands where hope and daylight die.

Eventually from the northern hills resound the horns of the Human Opposition. And not a moment too soon. They are a fearsome Ouroborasian faction of warriors known as the Order of Rosemary. With speed they came to the defence of Iviragne to break the Ghoulish advance. They are led by general Krojan the Lumani, an esteemed Rosarian officer. Clad fully in crimson platemail from spiked-helmet to red sabaton, and always atop a mighty black stallion. The soldiers of the Order of Rosemary are perhaps the finest and most elite troops West Ouroborasia has to offer. Most battles of this Civil War that involved their banner resulted in Justinian victories. Even their horses seem to be of a larger and stronger breed than those employed by regular Ouroborasian cavalry.
They would not give up their homes and lands without a fight. Absolutely and under no condition not...

[i]''Form ranks, and face the scum of the Red Pantheon!''[/i] He roars from under his helmet with a thundering voice as he points his scabbard down the hills, where a thick layer of grey covers the valley with speckles stretching far into the southern hills. It is a layer that they will and must not tolerate. 
[b]''SIR!
HOO!-HA!''[/b] The forces nigh him gave response. The Order of Rosemary wastes nor reserves even a second to launch their offensive. They are trained to lash out at anything anti-Justinian wherever they may perceive it, and with no quarter. With a fistful of steel and fire they charge down the hills screaming like maniacs. Infantry in the centre, cavalry at the sides. A red wave dawning onto the grey one. Beasts against monsters. 
They know what is at stake -- their homes, their property, their sovereignty, their faith. But one thing they are less concerned about are their own lives; these warriors are fierce and do not fear death, never expecting to leave a battlefield alive or in one piece to begin with. Justinian will deliver them. With the aura of Krojan the Lumani at the helm of the army, they are committed to victory.

A depiction of Hell presents before the walls of Iviragne. The ghastly ghouls facing away from the city walls, the very vast majority of them unmounted and small creatures, were trampled by horses while the Gauntlet's infantry with their signature spiked maces strike out at the malformed heads and frames of the frontlining Axospawn. 
The Ouroborasians struck hard, and mowed down many foes in the very first clash. However it appears Kè and the Ghoul tacticians deliberately placed their most worthless spawn at the edges of the legion to absorb the blow.

[b]''ITLÛ RA CÁARATH OUROKÛRATH.''[/b] hoarse shrieks came from the back of the ghoul army. 

Serpentine warriors rush to the fore with long lances and stakes. With inhuman precision they aim the narrow and rigid ends straight into each chink and gap in the Gauntlet's breastplates. They begin the process of driving the Ouroborasians back, and some that are not paying attention are outright impaled by the deed of those creatures. This gives the maimed and dying Ghouls that were engaged previously the opportunity to retreat to safety behind the Serpentine cover. Some of them with missing and hewn legs crawling vainfully away from the Rosarians. As the Serpentine infantry go about their bloody and precise work, one very strong Ghoul holds a long stake on which he preternaturally impaled three dying Ouroborasians at once. He lifts it towards the dark clouds, the blood stained and bungling bodies of those three men hanging from it like a standard, bent on demoralizing the enemy by depicting classical Ghoul malice.
The Ouroborasians are hardly demoralized however. In fact, one of those hanging three men not yet dead begins screaming at the top of his lungs. [i]‘’JUSTICE BE DONE! JUSTICE BE DONE! JUSTICE BE DONE!’’[/i] As he in vain holds the stake that pierces through his abdomen, trying to break it and free himself from it. 
But, from on high a sharp rock crashes into his helmet; fracturing his skull. At last dealing to him the killing blow, and releasing him from the anxieties of this world. A flying fishghoul cast the rock at the poor man’s head for sport.

Drifting along the ominous clouds, more of those very same winged fish-like demons descend down to glide over the valley of Iviragne, each holding a heavy, sharply chiselled rock. [b]‘’SCHRATTÔR RA!’’[/b] One of them gurgles at his fellows, and they each drop the rocks into the valley, before retreating back into the clouds. A next line of flying Ghouls take their place, also holding rocks and casting them into the red formations. This is undoubtly part of tactician Kè’s machinations.
On the ground, meanwhile, the heavy impact of the rocks is tremendous enough that the uniform Rosarian helmet is not enough to protect their heads. Some of them are crushed by the heavy rock’s ridiculous velocity. Other humans orientate themselves to the skies and raise up their metal-coated shields, on which the rocks leave a large dent and a harsh [i]'CLANG!'[/i], yet otherwise do their job in keeping the wielder alive.

Krojan yells at the heavens in fury. [b]‘’[i]Is that it?![/i] Is that all you got?!’’[/b] Before motioning to the Rosarian huntsmen that stand in long rows behind him.
[b]‘’Shoot those curs down to the earth! 
Fire at will!’’[/b] The huntsmen raise their crossbows, their arrows ignited by a fiery spell attuned to the string, and open fire at the winged fish creatures that dance among the clouds. Unfortunately many are simply way too high up for the projectiles to reach them. Some, through a miracle or Justinian’s direct intervention do leave their mark however, and a few of those flying Ghouls tumble down to crash onto the crimson battlefield among the Ouroborasian ranks.

Others of those flying beasts were drifting closer over the battlefield, and seemingly for no purpose. Close enough that some of the Rosarian infantry attempted to use their long pikes to pry them from the air, which the creatures dodged gracefully. What Krojan did not know, however, is that the flying Ghouls are actually looking for [b]him[/b], or one like him. Kè specifically instructed them to find and eliminate the enemy commander and deal his army the decisive and fatal blow.
[i]‘’Master Lumani! Look there! Watch out!’’[/i]
[b]‘’BAOTH OUROKÛRA  DEIKÛR!’’ [/b]
General Krojan hears the unholy language of Axospawn from perilously close-by. He looks up. One of the flying Ghouls has indeed found him, and is now descending fast on him with high speed. Before Krojan knew what was happening he was tackled off his horse. 
[i]‘’GRAH!’’[/i] He exclaims as the fish-like creature was using its long penetrating claws to grasp onto him, leaving dents in his armour and trying to bite at his throat.
The defiant general held his sword unsheathed at all times, and used the pommel to beat it away. But the creature is tenacious, and uses its claws to sink ever deeper through the chinks of his mail, and ever more frantically continues to chatter its jaws lined with many long teeth for a bite at the general’s exposed neck. 
So instead, Krojan gives it steel! While holding the malformed head and jaws away from him with one hand, he used the other to drive his blade through its gaping mouth, felling it. The creature splutters and gurgles angrily, before loosening its grip and falling off. Its lifeless carcass rolls down the hill towards the backs of the fighting men.

A wicked cacophony consumes all the land. The shrill voices of dying humans, the screeching and taunts of Ghouls, the clatter of steel, the neighing of injured horses -- and whichever unsightly creatures Ghouls sometimes ride on.

A messenger runs up towards the general, who is being pulled back on his feet by his honour guard. [i]‘’Master Lumani, the deployed Saints have arrived from Holy Sacrosanctia itself.’’
‘’…Than our victory is still in reach. Bid them come forward to engage the demons pelting our men. Pronto!’’
‘’Yes sir!’’[/i]

Overhead, rays of light emerging from the Pale Star darted through the sky with such velocity that they seemed as though bolts of lightning. The glimpse of them was enough for those on the mortal coil of battle to understand that this was a divine intervention, and Uudhin’s officers knew it too as they frustratingly clenched their teeth.
The winged Ghouls that twirled in circles in the sky lost momentum. Realising just what foe was upon them, they immediately routed at the very sight as though this had been instilled into their very nature. A few of them however flew straight at them in a gambit of self-sacrifice and buy the other aerial flanks time for an orderly retreat. But the Saints would have none of it. The angelic Man charging at the front of the Sacrosanctian Squad yelled sonorously at the top of his lungs: ‘’Have at them and cast them down!’’ As he pointed his silver sword at the first bulging-eyed fish creature that that dashed towards him. The metal of the blade combusts into an intense flame that surpasses the boundaries of its sacred steel and bursts straight towards the opposing Ghoul, who was still many meters away. The ensuing flames obliterated the creature, as well as the one flying directly at its hind.
Eagles draped in light versus gaunt vultures emerging from night’s refuge in a desperate bid to scavenge on Justinian land. The swords of Justice itself has caught up to them at last.
EAGLES OF LIGHT AGAINST BATS OF NIGHT. FRIGHTENED AND UNADDAPTED. NOW WISHING ONLY TO WITHDRAW BACK TO THEIR CAVES.
---Describe the majesty of the Saints flying--
---Describe the leader of the Saints-- The leader of the Saint’s squadron is a formidable man, bald shaven and of a divinely inspired athletic posture. His name is Zenun, and his wings are perhaps the most radiant of them all.
Reacting promptly to Krojan’s command, Zenun shouts: 
[i]‘’ !!!!! ’’[/i] As he lifts his flaming sword to ready the charge. 

Down the hill, additional fresh Serpentine units point to them their pikes to intercept the new attacking wave. Both the Ghoul formation and the Rosarian infantry previously engaging them have been badly bloodied at this point, and fatigue is setting in. Though to the mind of the Ghoul tacticians; seeing that the Serpentine unit has been successfully the last time, surely they will be so again. However as Zenun charges, the tattoos on his face and body begin to flare up as if responding to his zeal and fiery temper. The marks covering his body shine so radiantly that the light passes through his breastplate and clothing and into the opposing army. And not just Zenun; the other Executioners too seem to bring back Justinian’s light to Ouroborasia… surprisingly literally.  Both the Ouroborasians and the Ghouls are astonished, as something as this certainly has not happened prior.
The serpentine phalanx is blinded; they try to concentrate for the interception but to no avail. Thus the Executioners easily bypass their pikes and slam their maces into their skulls. The Executioners break through the pike formation, and any Ghoul that tries to fight back is blinded. Some try to block their attacks – to no avail. Or even land a blow of their own? The creatures can’t even see them. One by one they falter to the sound of Zenun’s inane laughter. It appears the man himself is not even aware what is happening to him, or why the Ghouls can resist him so poorly. But Zenun is already too far gone either way.
Tactician Eiyzayun who oversees the Serpentine unit is dumbfounded to their magic or stratagem. He hisses in frustration to his cohort. Yet he too is blinded.
[b]‘’Ourokûrath itlu deibaoth….
Xajtan! Xajtan pûrgatora!’’ [/b]
His cohort comprising of tall carp-headed Ghouls are ordered to engage the radiant Executioners. However the creatures feel reluctant to enter a battle where the enemy can’t even be perceived to their bulging fishy eyes. They are only coerced to attack when Eiyzayun starts whipping them with an iron chain. They dashed off into the bright light to their unseen fate. Eiyzayun tries to see them off, but the nauseous light caused him to turn away. Only a moment later the light will come for him, too. The tactician was too distracted to see a Sacrosanctian Saint descending down at him, with burning sword held forwards. Eiyzayun is struck through where his lungs are – or would have been if his creation had not been marred by a Red God’s disdain for mortals. With purifying flame consuming his tarnished soul, he lets loose a terrible and humiliated shriek of fury, before Eidzayun is no more. 
His death causes a major opening  in the Ghoulish legion. The commissars of Eiyzayun’s battalions each react differently to the strange radiant tattoos of the Executioners, as well as the death of their commander. The Ghouls waver. With some of them already breaking off from the main force as others make a desperate suicide charge to wear the enemy down. Even the winged fishghoul among the clouds, who continue to hail down heavy rocks, can only do so much to silence Zenun’s rampage.

General Krojan, re-adjusting himself back in the saddle of his black steed, notices the discord  in the Uudhinite legion in response to the presence of the Saints, and calls for the next push. [i]‘’ADVANCE! Break through and obliterate!’’[/i]
[b]‘’HOO-HA!’’[/b] The heavy Rosarian warriors respond with manly deeds, smashing deeper into the lightly armoured Ghoul infantry. Many Ghouls at this point are already withdrawing towards the southern hills and swamps.


Meanwhile Tactician Kè is taking matters into his own hands by rallying the warriors under him to reform, and brace for a second charge. The fighting is still fierce and ongoing, the Ghouls being defiant to maintain the blockade on Iviragne. However their forces are losing ground fast. He recalls the troops encircling the walls of Iviragne to first deal with the Order of Rosemary on the field. Kè orders the Ghoulish archery to open constant fire into the radiant light and quell whatever rage goes amok in there, while sending a Flying ghoul away to relay a message to the other legions for back-up. He is determined to salvage the battle from the clutches of disgrace. 
However something happens he did not anticipate; the garrison of Iviragne found the nerve to leave their posts and stations on the walls and instead come storming out of the gates, exposing themselves yet catching the Ghouls completely off guard! Even more fanatical men in red armour carrying red flags, swords and spiked maces to deal with. The demon horde is now beset from two sides; the front and the rear. And the burning white light stemming from the Executioner’s white marks is still not showing any sign of wearing off, even the other Ouroborasians have to steer clear of them. Kè’s dreams of domination are in tatters. 

Begrudgingly he admits there is no more salvaging this battle for Uudhin. He screams at his nearby runners, a number of small Ghoul creatures with rodent like heads, but instead of hair covered in a layer of bristled feathers with proportionally very long and thin legs resembling human legs, though longer and thinner.
‘’*WITHDRAW! WITHDRAW! TELL ALL TACTICIANS TO WITHDRAW!’’ (In Ghoul)
The runners each respond with a mangled chirp and dive towards every direction, evading arrows and hail of fire as they navigate across the battlefield to relay Kè’s command to the commissars and tacticians.
Thus he calls for the full withdrawal of the Salten legion, effectively also lifting the siege of the city (which had barely begun at that point)… yet not before he yells at his enemies a menacing threat. Particularly directed at that self-righteous and pretentious Krojan and his wild little baboon Zenun.

‘’[b]Axoa Uudhi deikûr…’’
OUROBORA-APOSTATES.. YOU HAVE WON THE BATTLE – YOU WILL NEVER WIN THE WAR.[/b]’’

Those were the last words he spoke before his oversized rat-mount rode off into the southern marshes, disappearing from sight. A good chunk of the army, frantically hastening off after him.

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-xmezIOK3Go]Victory[/url].

The Ghouls were defeated, the march of the Demon Hordes on Ouroborasian soil, thwarted. Those that remained were either fighting to the death or in the process of routing, while the Rosarians clean the field. Those Ghouls that are too injured to desert the premises in time are shown no quarter for their crimes against the Ouroborasian Empire.

Euphoria fills the air as the bright light of the Executioners finally subsides, as though recognising the dispersion of the enemy. They have fulfilled their task, and may well have been the cause of this victory. Though a halfwit as Zenun deserving the credit for the Red Gauntet’s triumph is certainly not something General Krojan would tribute him with. That light – could it have been Justinian himself?
The general lifts his sword to the sky in triumph, exclaiming:
[i]‘’O almighty Justinian, you who cannot be assailed, who cannot be deceived, to thee we give praise for delivering us!’’[/i]
The Rosarians, as well as the garrison and militia of Iviragne cheer to the sky in unison. [i]‘’JUSTICE BE DONE!’’[/i]


But the skies above are still dark and overcast. A running messenger runs towards Krojan.
[i]‘’General Lumani! Grim tidings, master. The Ghouls… The Ghouls…’’
‘’Are slain and dead. This is a blow from which they will not soon recover.’’[/i] The general answers with a harsh monotone voice.

[i]‘’Your forces prevailed, yet not all divisions of the Order of Rosemary incurred Justinian’s favour as much as you did, o master. The cities of Fushaz, Mogilashi, Ballkuq and Bozhigrat have fallen to [b]them[/b]. 
Unspeakable cruelties are being inflicted on our brethren and countrymen, o master…’’[/i]

As it turned out, the Lumani division of the Order of Rosemary could respond only to one incursion at a time. Kè’s final threat proved correct; Krojan had won only a single battle this day. Hardly could his division deter the great entirety of the Uudhinite invasion.
Yet the Ouroborasian civil war has hardened Krojan enough to be accustomed to such grim setbacks. The initial shock for him lasted only a second, if even that. After minimal silence he gives prompt response. [i]‘’Then our work is not done. One by one we will retake the communes we lost. 
Scribe!’’
‘’Sir.’’
‘’Send a missive to Grandmaster Rozarosu of our victory here. Request he approve the reinforcing of Iviragne’s garrison forces. Smoke out any Red Pantheon collaborators inside the city’s confines, too. In the meantime we will [i]march[/i] to relieve the city of Fushaz, then Mogilashi, then Ballkuq and yes, then Bozhigrat. We will free them all from the clutches of the false gods. One by one. Sword by sword. So long the eye of the Pale Star is on us, we will never waver. By the Justinian’s own hallowed blade, mark my words.’’[/i]
[i]‘’Yes sir. Indeed so sir.’’

[h3]‘’Justice be done!’’[/h3][/i]