Xamari kept her expression neutral. "I didn't quite catch that, Jabu -- my ears tend to ache on chilly mornings." 

That was perhaps the most honest thing she had said all morning. Yet despite the chill, Xamari was barefoot, dressed only in a simple frock and a hastily wrapped headscarf. Barely an hour past dawn, the hide-covered floor of her bands tent, which she had swept not two days ago, was still moist with dew, but she never felt cold here. The mansa spells woven within them made sure of that. In any case, it bought her a moment to calm the churning urge to break the boy who sat beside her. 

Jabulani, prize pupil of Olumide the Leopard and all four wispy hairs on his sharp chin, smiled. The leopard shawl he wore was still stiff around the shoulders, not yet molded to his frame and clearly chafing at his neck. "I asked you to marry me."

[i]No, you demanded, you soft-footed brat.[/i] “Ah, there’s hope for my ears yet.”

“Well?” Jabu said. “What say you?”

“I say thank you…” Xamari set her hands on the table between them. “For this lovely visit.”

“So my proposal?”

“It is a poor one, really.” Xamari tightened a loose fold in her headscarf and propped one barefoot over the other. The ostrich-shell beads of her anklets clacked in the early morning stillness. “I would make an awful wife.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I’ve grown to love the spear rather than men.”

The leopard's boy frowned. “We both stand at the top of our respective classes. You the greatest of Lang’engatshoni’s, while I of Olumide. A child between us would surpass us both. Imagine it.”

“Jabu.” Xamari sighed. “I would sooner burn at the pyers then sire any sort of offspring with you.” She stood, grabbed her red cloak and began walking towards the door. “I am sure that before the day is out the war drums will sound. That will give you time to build an apology worthy of the insult you have laid at my feet this morning.”

“You're making a mistake, Xamari. I pray the fires do not claim you.” 

“Anu willing, they won’t.” As the floor changed from hide to the soft grass of the Knucklelands, Xamari kept her shoulders relaxed and her stride loose. Let Jabu sulk, and let his dreams die in that tent. For all his skills, he was still a boy after all, and she had no use for a boy, she had a man waiting for her at the frontlines.

[hr]

Okonkwo sat pinching his lower lip in thought, overlooking the plains before him. The day was scorching hot, horned lions on the horizon hiding in the shade of the crooked acadia trees. The pygmy warrior had shed his blue cloak and let the sun bake at his black fur and skin. Earth-pigmented fingers rubbed at his chin and occasional hums escaped him. With his other hand, he drew plans in the soil - plans of attack against this foreign horde.

Two days ago, they had seen smoke in the far distance; the fishermen to the south had been eliminated. A raft had come to Tal Eren last night, carrying the exhausted survivors. They spoke of wicked beasts that moved with the maliciousness and recklessness of maddened beasts. To lay a plan for such was no meager task.

“Captain?” 

Okonkwo turned with pursed lips. “What is it, Bolade?”

Bolade, one of Okonkwo’s own apprentices and a youth of fifteen, squatted down next to his master and eyed the plans with a smirk. “Wah, the master has been working hard.”

Okonkwo grunted. “Did you have anything to say other than that? You know how this one feels about empty praise.”

“‘Twas not empty, captain, honest!” Bolade defended proudly, “but aye, there has been a summoning for the master. Obaloluwa requests the master’s presence.”

Okonkwo frowned. “What? Is it time?”

“The golden one did not say. However, the golden one stressed that the master should be swift. It’s because--”

Bolade could not even finish the sentence before Okonkwo already had sprinted back to their camp. A small grouping of three low tents made from short sticks suspending a linen sheet roof surrounding the small remains of a fire came into view. From underneath one of the tents climbed an enormous Pygmy, his muscular stature dressed in clothes fashioned from the skin of a black-horned lion. On his face, he wore a mask shapen from bone to look like a lion’s skull, complete with a harvested mane, but with bull horns instead of the black monsters the lions were equipped with. Through the bone mask, Okonkwo could see the golden tint identifying Obaloluwa as a warrior of the Golden Horde.

“Blessings of the War-Father, the River-Father and our Eternal Majesty be upon you, Obaloluwa,” Okonkwo said and bent the knee.

“You come at last, captain Okonkwo,” Obaloluwa replied curtly. “You are to bring your maruns back to camp immediately. There have been sightings to the south - more rafts have been passing by. How are the trenches coming?”

“The warmasons have been working day and night with the mansa, golden one. Ditches and traps have been laid all across the western and southern knucklelands.”

“Your longwalkers bring back anything from the savannah?”

Okonkwo shook his head. “Only tidings of burned villages and families on the run. This one will take my marun out west and--”

“No, you will do no such thing,” Obaloluwa protested and took him by the shoulder. “Have your maruns don shields and thick hide. You are going up front for the battle.”

Okonkwo swallowed. “Th-this one is unworthy of--”

“Of the vanguard?” Obaloluwa let out an echoing cackle, his sharpened fangs coming to light underneath his mask as he threw his head back. “Okonkwo, you belong up front, where your spear-arms can be used the best. Leave your mansa and throwers behind, though - they will be joining Gboyega and her band.”

Okonkwo remained voiceless for a moment before confirming with a, “Understood, golden one.”

Obaloluwa squeezed his shoulder proudly. “Good man. You will be ready within the hour. Tonight, we will end this menace’ threat once and for all.”

With a determined grunt, Okonkwo saluted and ran to gather his warriors.

[hr]

The dark had cast its shadow over the plains, bereaving it of all the heat of day. Heliopolis cut a blood red streak across the distant horizon and only the distant calls of birds and beasts could be heard throughout the endless plains. Though, that was not entirely true: Sheltered from the open plains behind tall rocks and linen roofs was a tiny light, a flicker of too few torches lighting a meeting of officers and their king.

“Qiang Quan’s legion has made its way to face the threat, Your Majesty,” went Shakale, leader of the Golden Horde. If Obaloluwa was a giant, Shakale was a titan, rivalled only by Anu himself in size among the pygmies. He was one of the Four Tigers, Anu’s personal guard and one of the few to be blessed with Gods’ hands: An additional set of arms growing from underneath the original pair. He had several cuts and scars across his skin and was dressed in the armour of his position: tiger’s hide bracers and ankle bands, knee and elbow protectors, a tunic and loinguard of reinforced leather and a tiger hide cloak. On his head, he wore the head of a six-legged Qiangshanese tiger for a helmet, its eyes replaced with golden nuggets. Through his nose and ears ran several gold rings. “They will make contact at any moment.”

Anu strode to the edge of the tent, parting the fabric and gazing out across the plains, just as he did so long ago when Tal Eren was but a tent much like this one. He might have enjoyed the view — the Kncklelands ever so peaceful in the evening twilight. But an ominous grey shape swelled on the horizon as the horde thundered in the distance. 

The ape turned back to his guard. [color=MistyRose]”Are we ready?”[/color]

Shakale nodded stonefaced. “Yes, my king. The mansa and throwers are in position; the vanguard will charge any moment. All that remains is Your Divine presence on the field. The menace will be eradicated before His Majesty’s might.”

[color=MistyRose]”And where would you have your king positioned?”[/color] he replied. 

Shakale bowed deep. “His Majesty is powerful - His might will be a boon wherever He goes. However, warleader Qiang Quan recommended His Majesty takes the Golden Horde and leads a flanking attack from the forests by the river. A shock and awe assault from the woods is certain to break their lines - if they are even capable of forming one. If not, drawing their attention to the King and his Horde will allow the mansa and throwers to decimate the enemy unchecked.”

Anu nodded. [color=MistyRose]”This one finds no fault in this plan of action. Any estimates on their numbers?”[/color]

Shakale shook his head. “None who have counted have come back alive. This one thinks they far outnumber us.” Two right fists drummed his chest in salute. “Numbers will not be a factor in this battle, however; wild beasts cannot match Talemonese weaponry!” Shakale pulled from behind his back a sheathed dagger which he presented to his king. The sheathe was made of leather, but the leader was blue; along its side were embroidered symbols in stylised Shengshese, all of which seemed to spell out containment enchantments. “This is Dragon’s Tongue, one of the only four of its kind.” He drew the blade and the air immediately grew uncomfortably hot. The blade was molten, or at least appeared to be. Along its short length were written similar characters as on the sheathe, and Shakale’s hand seemed to agonise from holding it for too long. He sheathed it after a moment. “Iyawa the Mansa-Smith has spent the last year spinning mana into the copper. Two months ago, she achieved what no other mortal has managed: a dagger as hot as the day it was forged.”

The big king gauffed. [color=MistyRose]”Your confidence is to be commended soldier. But a healthy dose of skepticism is always warranted. Even in the face of what seem to be overwhelming odds.”[/color] he began, emphasizing his last words as his eyes pointed at mana-forged blade at Shakale’s back. [color=MistyRose]”We may hold many advantages but numbers, as you speculate, is likely not one of them. And from reports neither is our discipline or coordination. If we are not careful, defeat is possible.”[/color]

Shakale grit his sharpened teeth and bowed his helmeted head. “Yes, my king.”

[color=MistyRose]”Nevertheless! We press the advantages we do have. Today we see just how effective this ‘Dragon’s Tongue’ shall be. The menace ends here.”[/color]

With renewed vigour, Shakale saluted again and drummed his chest proudly with all four fists. “Yes, my king!”

They gathered the rest of the Golden Horde waiting outside of the base and continued south through the forest. In the distance, they could hear the first of the war cries.

[hr]

Okonkwo stood at the head of his warband of fourteen warriors, all of which stood merely a step behind him in a horizontal line, hide shields propped up with their left arms and copper pikes held with the right. Foot soldiers were afforded little in terms of armour: leather bracers and ankle bands, loincloths with horse or buffalo hair crests, and linen blankets if the soldier owned any. In his warband, Okonkwo was the only one who donned his azure cloak. The pygmies had all lined up behind the trenches, keeping low in the tall grass while waiting in the dark. It was completely silent.

Next to Okonkwo’s band was Lang’engatshoni’s, a respective twenty-one warriors strong. In similar fashion, the majority of those in Lang’s band lacked armor and only doned the bare minimum. Xamari and Lang on the other hand sported matching blankets, both blood red in angry contrast to the green. 

The front line consisted of twenty maruns - a hundred strong - each arranged in bands of three or four. Another hundred strong held the ground behind them, and even further back were the mansa and throwers, of which there, too, were a hundred. The army had been forced to conscript from the other castes to assemble a powerful enough force - these numbered an additional hundred and were in charge of resupply or reinforced any of the other groups. 

The air was crisp with anticipation. The wind blew against them and they smelled a bloody rank on it. The enemy was near.

Dark shapes began to move in the tall savannah grass, like the lions stalking their prey. Yet there was something about the way the grass barely rustled or how the glowing red eyes watched with malice as they approached. There were several sets, getting closer by the minute and no one could tell whether they knew what awaited them. The air became palpable with anticipation as the enemy advanced, and then when it seemed they would surely walk over the line, one paused, then another, until all had halted. 

One tilted back it’s head and screamed loudly, a terrible ripping sound, as the others pounced forward, poised to attack!

In return, the Pygmies roared their own cries, many pounding their chest and baring their fangs menacingly. The front assumed a heavy stance, sticking forth their spears and hiding behind their large hide shields. The back line stepped forth and reinforced the weak spots in the formation in front, and the mansa began to beat their drums and sing their chants. Throwers tilted their arms back and readied a volley. 

“Steady!” Okonkwo thundered. “Remember the Mẹta; remember your oaths! Talemon is your home, the King’s home, and no one harms the King’s home while a Pygmy still walks on Galbar!”

“YUH!”

“By the Gods! They come!" a warrior whispered to his comrades beside him.

"War-Father protect us."

"Eh-o, how are we going to fight them off with our line so thin?!"

Xamari heard the frightened gossip amidst her ranks, but did not say anything, for she herself was afraid as well. She knew she had to say something to reestablish their morale; but nothing could come to her mind.

"What are you doing, lieutenant?" Lang, her master, asked the dismayed Xamari.

"Captain!" Xamari said, surprised by his sudden outburst, "I was…uh I-I-I…"

"Do you not hear your brethren? Their resolve is in question, and you stand here and do nothing? You look to call yourself a leader in the future and you allow this incompetence of morale to exist?!" Lang told her, low enough where only they could hear.

"Apologies Captain! I do not know what came ov—"

"Do not speak. Only see what is done to bolster the nerves of your brothers and sisters."

Xamari instantly spun around and shouted.

"Warriors! Why do you allow fear to swell within your breast?! You are of the Ogun! The pride of the Kingdom! Yes they have numerous beasts, but we are the better warriors and we will prevail!" 

“AYE”

The fear in the faces of men and women up and down the line dissolved—they realized that captain’s were right; what did they have to fear from untrained savages? They were doing what they were trained to do, slay the enemies of Talemon; why should they be afraid of their profession? Satisfied by their newfound conviction, Xamari turned to face Lang whose grizzled face betrayed no emotion, but Xamari could feel that he approved of what she said.

“Talemon!”

“YUH!”

“Talemon!”

“YUH!”

The beasts remained undeterred as they ran, building up speed. Muscles bulged and tensed, tails whipped behind them with sharp edges, their sleek figures coursing through the grass like silent fire. Their crimson eyes were full of hate and their sharp teeth bared to the world. Upon the threshold of the frontline, they attacked. 

The hide shields of the front line were tough, but ravenous teeth bit and tore at them with great efficiency. Many were tumbled backwards by the sheer force of the assault. Pikes were driven into the mad beasts with great vengeance for the first who fell. 

“VOLLEY!” boomed the command from the backline and a hundred javelins took to the air, boosted by mansa songs. The wind seemed to carry them like sticks on a stream, and each and every one found their marks perfectly. The smoke of magical plants rose thick in the backline, for the mansa could not lose focus for a second - all the throwers relied on their mana to throw their javelins far enough.

Okonkwo had already lost his shield to a particularly rapid spawn. He was reduced to his pike alone, with which he impaled whatever came at him. Behind him, Bolade and the rest of his maruns did their best to adapt to the fighting reckless fighting style of their foes. Luckily for the Pygmies, however, fighting wild beasts was all they ever did.

Further down the line the fighting was just as brutal. The initial shock of impact from the ravenous horde pushing the Talemonese shieldwall back.

“Hold! Hold!” Xamari shouted.

“Push them back! Do not give ground!” Lang bellowed in tow.
 
With the first rank being assaulted by tooth and nail, the second and third rank took initiative and pushed their shields against the backs of those in front of them, effectively halting the involuntary loss of ground. The beasts struck at the first rank with biter ferocity wanting desperately to tear the simians limb from limb, yet they were finding it increasingly difficult to find any opening in the wall of hide.

Xamari was fighting off one beast who was repeatedly raking its claws against her shield. Every time the beast brought its arms up to swipe, Xamari would simply raise her shield up to block the blow. After six consecutive blocks, Xamari moved in and bashed the thing back with her shield. The spawn quickly regained its footing and seething with primal anger, renewed its blind charge. Xamari fully extended her right arm and thrust her spear through the roof of the charging monster’s mouth and entered what she could only hope was the brain. Using her shield she pushed the barbarian's dead body back as she withdrew her spear and faced the three that replaced it.

A few of the spawn retreated a distance away behind their frantically clawing siblings. Then with bursts of speed they sprinted at the frontline and when they came upon their brethren, they jumped over them with powerful limbs. 

“Backline! To arms!” Okonkwo commanded. The hind maruns, ready to pounce if their front brethren fell, scrambled to weapons and took up the fight against the jumpers. At all cost, they had to protect the throwers and casters. Another volley of one hundred javelins soared across the field, finding their marks with unrivaled precision thanks to the mansa. Unfortunately, the front lines began to struggle immensely without the support of the replacement from behind.

“Captain! Our reinforcements are in danger!” Bolade bellowed as his spear pierced the chest of a squealing spawn.

“Focus on the front, Bolade! They cannot break us! They will not!”

Okonkwo and his maruns formed a phalanx and began to push back, trusting in the reach of their spears. 

As the fighting turned fierce, on the right flank of the line, a warrior of sixteen floods witnessed one of his sisters fall dead due to a spawn. Immediately he broke formation and ventured out to avenge his comrade's death, but he did not get far as he was run through in the stomach by a clawed hand that easily penetrated his body and came out his back. The boy quickly fell to his knees in shock with the arm still in his body, but only for the moment, as he quickly rose to his feet and targeted the beast without a weapon, judging that it was the thing who had fatally skewered him. Awkwardly walked up with the thing still in his body and stabbed his attacker in his throat. He knew he was going to die, but at least he earned the satisfaction of slaying his own killer. He then swayed backwards into the ranks of his brethren and collapsed in front of them and quickly died.

As the Spawns numbers began to thin, another call was issued. A painfully loud sound, like something scraping a rock over and over again. It was then that the horns of the spawn began to hum with crackling scarlet energy. And upon the frontlines, they shot their lightning into the apemen.

This magical strike immediately seared to death six shieldbearers standing a put too close to one another. Others fell to the ground with terrible burns and were dragged to the back lines. Heads turned to face the sources of the foul spells, taking attention away from the enemies. More careless recruits fell as a result. The front line was reinforced by the backline, but lightning was not something they could defend against. From the far back, Okonkwo heard the voice of M’Bani, the first of the mansa, calling for different songs:

“Mansa! Voice of Nature!” ge bellowed above the clash. 

The mansa raised their hands and totems and began to chant in unison, weaving mana as a single body until the tapestry of ether was so thick it could be felt by those in the frontline. M’Bani extended his arm, high, preparing to give the signal. 

“Mansa! Loose!”

The tapastry coalesced, hardened, and broke into wave of compressed air that slammed into the spawn line. The blastwave stunned some of the warriors too close to it, unfortunately, but these were brought back through the lines.

The spawn stumbled and fell, stunned as the mighty blast was let loose. Many were flung backwards and became concussed as a result. A few more got back to their feet but their motions and agility was misaligned. They made easy targets. The Pygmies wasted not a second. Maruns upon maruns moved forward with pikes aimed downwards, stabbing downwards into every spawn their eyes fell upon. It was like hunting sleeping goats.

Lang struck down spawn after spawn with brutal efficiency. He had already slain four alone despite the ringing in his ears. Sparing a glance behind him he caught sight of his ever thinning band, replaced with new faces from the back lines. He drew his face into a snarl and cut through another beast. This was no time to mourn, victory neared. 

“We’re wiping them out!” Okonkwo shouted as he ripped his pike out of another carcass. 

Upon the black horizon, a scarlet band of lightning briefly illuminated the area as it shot up into the sky. The lightning had been large enough to strike the heavens and it was followed by hundreds more, painting the approaching Spawn crimson. There were hundreds of them, each varying in size and running at full speed. They would be upon them within minutes.

“By Narzhak! Reinforcements! Reform the ranks!” Okonkwo commanded. Immediately, the pygmies began retreating back to the rest of the army, but a number had strayed too far and would not make it. The mansa and throwers tried their best to hold them off with enhanced spears, but the mana manipulation was taking its toll on the magicians - neither they would last much longer.

Yet before the spawns could reach the pygmy line and obliterate it, the  [url=https://youtu.be/1v658tOQJ1Q]rhythmic beating of drums[/url] washed over the battlefield, emanating from the southern jungles. Three beats later, the earth shook. Two beats followed, and the jungles bent and screamed. One beat later, and the gilded warriors of the Golden Horde poured from the treeline, the divine berserkers screaming a battle cry that shook the sky. At their head, was the king of Talemon himself, lead the charge with the Skyscythe in all its magnificent glory.

To the north a secondary force followed, charging at the spawn with similar vigor, cutting across the plains to smash into the right flank a few moments after Anu collided with the left. 

Bodies were torn asunder as the god-king ripped spawns apart with the force of his unstoppable charge alone. With a swing of only his blade he cleaved six spawns in two and with a thrust skewered four. The midnight colored polearm drinking up the blood of the dead as Anu carved his way through the force. 

If it all deterred by the new arrivals, the spawn did not show. Instead they continued their vicious assault upon their foes and loosed lightning after lightning bolt of their dark power. With a signaling cry, the larger of the Spawn began to challenge the golden horde members themselves with their biting teeth and sharp claws. Every part of their body a lethal weapon. 

Shakale met the sharp horns of a spawn with a pair of powerful hands, clutching the bone tightly to immobilise the beast. Then, with the two additional arms given to him by the King’s Wine, he drew forth Dragon’s Tongue and cut through the black spawn skin like it was soft butter. His upper arms tossed aside the carcass and pulled out a pair of dagger-axes from harnesses on his back. With a screaming warcry, he massacred his way across the field. 

Obaloluwa saw his superior and grit his teeth with competitive ire. While he had not been granted God’s arms himself, he would not be outmatched by his commander any day. His lance strikes were accurate and vicious, like the needle of a crazed hornet. 

Okonkwo and his warriors saw the attack from the flank and felt their broken hearts renew. At last, their fallen would be properly avenged! The captain stuck his spear in the air and sounded his own warcry, echoed by his maruns as they charged right back into the fray.

With a soundless grunt, Anu methodically cut through the ranks of the spawn. With a single swing of his SkySythe he cleaved three in two while he battered another three into vapor with the hook of his chain. There was no stopping the king on his warpath. 

As blood began to soak the ground a new sound echoed across the plains. A loud metallic screaming, followed by the largest strike of scarlet yet. In the briefest of flashes, something large was approaching. Its shape the same as its children and it heralded larger spawn that were slower than their kin but mightier in all regards. 

The Mother had come.

Shakale blinked at the distant wraith. He turned to his king and shouted, “My king! A monster has arrived!”

[color=MistyRose]”LOINS!”[/color] the big king roared over the cacophony of battle. Another set of drums joined the chaotic thrum of war, this one beset by a palpable shift in the air, one akin to that of the mansa when weaving a spell, though this one many times stronger. 

Anu raised his Skyscythe into the sky, rallying his forces to the makeshift banner while battering spawn into vapor with his hook. Then from the clouds above came an arc of lightning that ripped dozens apart in an instant. The ape afforded himself an iota of satisfaction, reinforcements had come.

With a cry that rattled heads the sky parted to reveal a dragon wreathed in terrifying arcs of electricity, its gold scales glinting in the blue light. Ikarus dove, sending arcs deep into enemy lines as it bolted for the Mother. 

Reinvigorated by the mana-god’s presence the Mansa resumed their bombardment while war drums beat rhythmically to the sound of marching pygmy singing songs of victory, signaling the coming of fresh Talemonese men and women.

The lesser spawn shrieked and growled, before the Mother let out a call, a shrill note beset by rage. The spawn were swept into a frenzy of motion. The larger spawn, those that had come with their Queen, joined the fray with their terrible arms, full of sharp claws. The Mother looked to the sky, to see the Golden Dragon, but she did not hesitate. Instead, she ran to meet it, with speed unseen in her children. With a jump, she launched herself into the air with her powerful hind legs, aiming her maw to rip out the Dragon’s throat. 

Glory would be his this day. Weaving mana, Ikarus summoned a flame as bright as Heliopolis, gathering it in his throat to turn the bastard spawn queen to cinder as they clashed in the sky. There was a great crash in the air as they began to plummet, teeth meeting scales and claws meeting skin. Tearing, and biting with vicious intent. Ikarus bellowed in pain, only then realizing the folly of his action, as the ball of flames exploded in his throat. A great heatwave fell from the sky as the two titanic figures fell to the earth in wreathes of flame. The fire consumed everything in its path, sparing neither warrior or spawn. 

When the smoke cleared, and the fire spent across the field, what remained was a grizzly sight. Golden ichor splattered the ground as Ikarus’ throat was torn open by the explosion, his body half charred and dying. The reaper mother, fared better, but her burns were severe. Half her face was but burnt flesh, skin, and bone, and the damage went down her right side for a ways. 

She stood wearily, before collapsing in a heap before her spent foe. Instinctively, her spawn began to shield her with their bodies. 

Shakale uncovered his eyes, which he had shielded from the explosion. He drew a gasp. “My king! The dragon!”

But the massive war king had already gone, heaving his chained hook across the battlefield with godly accuracy and vaprosing the shield of spawn hiding the Mother’s battered body. With a terrible bellow he yanked the chain back and the hook sunk deep into its belly while he used the moment to leap to her. 

He landed heavily, his golden eyes discs of fury as he wasted not a moment sinking the spear point of Skyscythe deep into the spawn queen’s shoulder, pinning her to the ground. Spawn attempted to overwhelm him but the demigod’s rage acted as a palpable force. Mana gold in color coiled like a snake, weaving together until the force of the earth could be felt upon the shoulders of all those around him, commanding many without great strength to flatten themselves to the ground.

[color=MistyRose]”Surrender!”[/color] the ape roared, his voice a force of nature.

Against the might of Anu, the Reaper Mother was powerless with her wounds. She struggled vainly, and then seeing that it was hopeless in the end, she faltered and yielded. Her spawn’s demeanor shifted, and those who had not knelt, did so begrudgingly.  

Breathing heavily, the big king claimed his blade from the Spawn Queen’s shoulder and raised it wordlessly to the air. For a moment he was silent, eyeing the kneeling reapers angrily, then he let out a loud roar, one that shook the plains with its might. Victory was Talemon’s.

Cheers erupted from the warriors who saw their king’s gesture; the rest joined in posthaste. Qiang Quan and Shakale both came jogging over to his side, both caked in a number of different substances. They both fell down to their knees and kowtowed.

“Greatest king upon this world,” Shakale saluted facing the ground. “With You at our side, victory was never a doubt.” Qiang Quan hummed agreement.

Anu shook his head. [color=MistyRose]”I alone couldn’t taken this horde. Without your stalwart defense and valent offensive, Talemon would have fell. On this day, you are all heroes.”[/color]

Tears welled up in the eyes of the warriors, who were all slowly gathering around their king to pay salute. Many had fallen - that much was clear. It would take years to recover from this assault - they would be weak for a long time.

On the other hand, Anu’s warriors had been tested, and most of them had proven that the armies of Talemon will not give into despair in the face of such a tsunami of evil. Their scars would forever stand as reminders to improve, so that scars will forever remain just scars and never mortal wounds. Mourning would come too, naturally - they would have to burn this many corpses, for they had not the soil to bury them all. Talemon, however, would weep as one - for in the great span of things, they were one, and theirs was the greatest kingdom on Galbar.

Shakale eyed the spawn queen and spat. “My King - the great Ikarus has been collected and will be cleaned and embalmed as any great hero of this nation would be. What will you have us do to… That?”

The king glanced at the wonder reaper. [color=MistyRose]”She will be dragged back to the capital for the people to see. Paraded up and down its streets, an oad to our triumph here today. Then, she will know her fate.”[/color]

“A sound plan, my King,” Shakale praised and pointed to a section of the warband. “Find whatever vines, ropes and bindings can hold this wicked beast and wrap it as tightly as you can. She may have lost the will to fight now, but any broken beast may regain its fervour.”

The warriors bowed curtly and sprinted off. They passed by Okonkwo, who was mending his Bolade’s wounds. The claws had cut deep into the leg, and the young lad was on the verges of passing out. The warrior had already received thread and a bone needle, with which he did his best to suture the wound. Bolade would not die - not in his first battle. Okonkwo prayed for as much, anyway.

Back next to Anu, Qiang Quan approached the King from the side and kowtowed. “My King… A word?”

A heavy thump sounded as Anu planted Skyscythe in the soil. [color=MistyRose]”Speak.”[/color]

Qiang Quan’s lip quivered slightly. “This servant and its colleagues have been summoned… Back to His Lordship’s ship.”

Golden irises flared in the Servant's direction. [color=MistyRose]”What?! Why?!”[/color]

Qiang Quan’s forehead dug deeper into the soil. Shakale and some others of the Golden Horde had heard the king’s outburst and approached. “My king, is everything well?”

“His Lordship sent a messenger in the night. It arrived from the east before the battle and shared the His Lordship’s command with Zhu Rongyuan: His Lordship Shengshi has… Has decided to collect the servants still loyal to him and descend into Fengshui Fuyou… For how long, this servant cannot say.”

The big king growled in protest. [color=MistyRose]”There is still yet much to do. To have my council leave this early would set us back greatly.”[/color] Anu paused for a moment, then sighed. [color=MistyRose]”But his word is law. I cannot leave my people at our most vulnerable to seek him out and find answers. I make a pilgrimage to Biashara. You are free to go, Cherished Qiang.”[/color]

Qiang Quan remained kowtowing, the grind of gritting teeth ripping through the air below. In one quick motion, he sat up in a seiza position and stared straight ahead. “My king! Allow this servant to end its life while still in Your service!”

[color=MistyRose]’So you would rather die than obey your creators call?”[/color]

Qiang Quan’s face hardened. “This servant would rather die with its honour as a loyal subject of its King than to abandon both Him and His people to live out its days aboard His Lordship’s vessel.”

Anu’s nose flared and his muscles tensed for a moment. Golden disks of fire burned into the kowtowing Servant, but they quickly softened. [color=MistyRose]”Qiang.”[/color] he let out a breath then his features hardened again. [color=MistyRose]”I order you to refuse the call of my father, and remain in my service. I will take on the consequences, come what may.”[/color]

Qiang Quan gasped. “M-my King! You cannot! Please, this servant is mortal and insignificant - with a thought, His Lordship could both end it and recreate it. However, if His Majesty was to disobey… His Lordship would make the consequences severe, for both His Majesty and His people.”

[color=MistyRose]”Come what may, Qiang. You are one of us, a Talemonese, not a servant of my father. Therefore you are no longer of his ilk and are under my command. Now come, Talemon requires your service.”[/color]
Qiang Quan sniffed, his body mimicking the tears of other species. Though yet again, he shook his head. “This servant cannot allow itself to survive if it means His Lordship will torment the rest of Talemon.” The warrior’s eyes remained unchanged, save for the tears welling up within them. “This servant will die in its King’s service, or leave to join its maker. It refuses to live at the cost of its king’s honour or its people’s safety. His Majesty truly is a son of Shengshi, with such unbreakable will and care for His people. Yet… Nothing His Majesty can say or do will shake this servant’s resolve.”

Rivers of gold burned in silent fury. [color=MistyRose]”Then go, and return when your maker wills it.”[/color] he spat.

With a huff the king ripped Skyscythe out of the ground and lifted into the air. [color=MistyRose]”ROUND UP! WE LEAVE FOR HOME IMMEDIATELY!”[/color] he bellowed, and marched towards the capital.

Qiang Quan remained kneeling in the sand as the army returned due east. With shame filling his every fibre, he slowly rose up and began making his way to the south - towards Nanhe.






[hider=Moight]
Anu start: 5MP/4FP
3FP: Create artifact: Using his divine blood, Anu created the King’s Wine. This is a liquid that all aspirants to the Golden Horde are required to drink to become a member. Upon consumption, the divine blood of Anu tests the consumer’s will, strength and spirit, promptly killing those that it finds unworthy. Those that pass, however, are granted golden eyes and stronger physique, while those that are the purest of will and spirit and entirely devoted to Anu’s mission, grow an extra pair of arms referred to as Gods’ arms. These can be controlled as normal arms would.
[/hider]

[hider=Summary]
War comes to the Monkeys and a great battle ensues. A main force tackles the spawn horde in a frontal assault for a time until its numbers are too great to bare and reinforcements are called in the from of the King and his Golden Horde. The Spawn Queen appears and engages in battle with Ikarus, but both are fatally injured in the attack. Anu finishes off the queen and the day is one, but not without the death of Ikarus the demigod of mana. Before the Talemonese return home, Anu is made aware of the call for all Servants to return to their lord. Anu is angered and ultimately shirks Qiang off and bids him to return.[/hider]