10-04-2017, 11:41 PM
Ratione lunged off of the metal roof, bringing his pommel to bear and into a rioter's face. Janna followed up with hopping off of his shoulder, soaring into the air and firing a stun blast at a squad of five rioters. The wide radius of the stun hit all of them at once, dropping the group as the yordle fell back down and into the Novan's arm. The old man deposited the girl on the asphalt, and the duo made their way across the lot and behind the white-clad warrior that had been directing them.
Ratione came to a grinding halt, looking over the scene. Two lines moving against each other, his own advancing unto a fortress.
***
"Furtumin!" The squad-leader walked up to Ratione from the front line, pikemen lunging their weapons foreward and pushing the Sar-kuhn line back. Arrow fire from light bows skipped off their helms and armor, occasionally sinking into someone's mail. They likely did not even feel it.
"That's the issue, squad-lead. Why is a Furtumin here?" The Sar-kuhn outpost was completely surrounded on all sides. A hill had been adorned with a small base, walls full of holes from ballista fire, patched up with shields or whatever scrap wood they could find. In tiered circles, trenches had been dug. On all fronts, Novan shield-walls and pike-hedges advanced. Ballistas kept taking potshots at any solid encampments that were attempted, as well as the main camp. Squads of crossbows sat at the flanks of any melee engagements, firing haphazardly into the Sar-kuhn forces.
"Yeah, the dogs aren't so great when you put their armor to the test. Get 'em all clustered and they can't run off, have to face you like a man." An arrow whistled down from the sky, biting into his mail. The squad-leader did not even flinch.
Ratione furrowed his brow behind the glass visor. "You wouldn't be sayin' that if you got stuck in an open field with them, squad-lead. I'll take over from here." The Furtumin's jump-pack kicked on, throwing him a few hundred meters into the sky before barreling down on the top of the hill.
***
Ratione lunged over the front line, leaving Janna behind to provide covering fire. His mass collided with a shield wall, breaking straight through. The rioters lacked any real training or discipline, putting their weight into the heels and crowding together too tightly. Once on the other side, the Furtumin gripped his weapon under the lugs, reversing the grip and thrusting the pommel into the first person that got close to him.
Now surrounded, training kicked in, but the white-clad warrior's request still sat in the back of his mind. Ratione began circling, swinging his blade in a figure-eight pattern around himself. This kept the rioters at bay, dispersing a small area and forcing them to pack into each other. The activity drew the attention of the front line, which now had to deal with the adversary behind them.
"Ratty!" Janna's voice carried over the chaos, and the Furtumin risked a glance upward. A flaming glass bottle soard through the air, a red bolt connecting with it and sending a shower of flames over the crowd.
***
A mushroom clowd of dirt rose into the air, a few body parts raining down on the trenches. The fort's main structure collapsed in on itself, walls of wood, concrete, and rubble smashing against each other and crushing all occupants. A suit of power-armor rose from the rubble, dust pouring off of him and his sword. The visor scanned the battlefield all around, Sar-kuhn peeking out from their trenches to the new king of the hill.
Ratione commanded his suit's computer to turn up his speakers' volume, voice bellowing across the encampment. "Sar-kuhn!"
Fighting abruptly ceased, all heads turning to the Furtumin.
***
Balls of flame fell on the crowd, scattering the rioters. The front line broke, charging past Ratione and flowing around him like a rock in a river. The white-clad warrior, the troopers, and the others moved forward, pushing the front line up to Ratione.
***
"Birsda kholbren ord!" Ratione's choppy tongue rang inside each and every one of the enemy's ears. The grammar was butchered, but the meaning was clear.
***
The rioters attempted to reform the line, but the troopers with batons and shields of their own moved in. Instead of charging blindly, they marched forward, shield edge to shield edge, giving each other enough room to maneuver. They kept their batons on their shoulders instead of hanging at their waists, bashing at the prisoners' skulls while keeping their guard up.
Ratione allowed himself a moment to breath and take a knee.
***
The Furtumin raised his massive blade, pointing it into the sky, "Tsa bogum bunta bind!"
Ratione came to a grinding halt, looking over the scene. Two lines moving against each other, his own advancing unto a fortress.
***
"Furtumin!" The squad-leader walked up to Ratione from the front line, pikemen lunging their weapons foreward and pushing the Sar-kuhn line back. Arrow fire from light bows skipped off their helms and armor, occasionally sinking into someone's mail. They likely did not even feel it.
"That's the issue, squad-lead. Why is a Furtumin here?" The Sar-kuhn outpost was completely surrounded on all sides. A hill had been adorned with a small base, walls full of holes from ballista fire, patched up with shields or whatever scrap wood they could find. In tiered circles, trenches had been dug. On all fronts, Novan shield-walls and pike-hedges advanced. Ballistas kept taking potshots at any solid encampments that were attempted, as well as the main camp. Squads of crossbows sat at the flanks of any melee engagements, firing haphazardly into the Sar-kuhn forces.
"Yeah, the dogs aren't so great when you put their armor to the test. Get 'em all clustered and they can't run off, have to face you like a man." An arrow whistled down from the sky, biting into his mail. The squad-leader did not even flinch.
Ratione furrowed his brow behind the glass visor. "You wouldn't be sayin' that if you got stuck in an open field with them, squad-lead. I'll take over from here." The Furtumin's jump-pack kicked on, throwing him a few hundred meters into the sky before barreling down on the top of the hill.
***
Ratione lunged over the front line, leaving Janna behind to provide covering fire. His mass collided with a shield wall, breaking straight through. The rioters lacked any real training or discipline, putting their weight into the heels and crowding together too tightly. Once on the other side, the Furtumin gripped his weapon under the lugs, reversing the grip and thrusting the pommel into the first person that got close to him.
Now surrounded, training kicked in, but the white-clad warrior's request still sat in the back of his mind. Ratione began circling, swinging his blade in a figure-eight pattern around himself. This kept the rioters at bay, dispersing a small area and forcing them to pack into each other. The activity drew the attention of the front line, which now had to deal with the adversary behind them.
"Ratty!" Janna's voice carried over the chaos, and the Furtumin risked a glance upward. A flaming glass bottle soard through the air, a red bolt connecting with it and sending a shower of flames over the crowd.
***
A mushroom clowd of dirt rose into the air, a few body parts raining down on the trenches. The fort's main structure collapsed in on itself, walls of wood, concrete, and rubble smashing against each other and crushing all occupants. A suit of power-armor rose from the rubble, dust pouring off of him and his sword. The visor scanned the battlefield all around, Sar-kuhn peeking out from their trenches to the new king of the hill.
Ratione commanded his suit's computer to turn up his speakers' volume, voice bellowing across the encampment. "Sar-kuhn!"
Fighting abruptly ceased, all heads turning to the Furtumin.
***
Balls of flame fell on the crowd, scattering the rioters. The front line broke, charging past Ratione and flowing around him like a rock in a river. The white-clad warrior, the troopers, and the others moved forward, pushing the front line up to Ratione.
***
"Birsda kholbren ord!" Ratione's choppy tongue rang inside each and every one of the enemy's ears. The grammar was butchered, but the meaning was clear.
***
The rioters attempted to reform the line, but the troopers with batons and shields of their own moved in. Instead of charging blindly, they marched forward, shield edge to shield edge, giving each other enough room to maneuver. They kept their batons on their shoulders instead of hanging at their waists, bashing at the prisoners' skulls while keeping their guard up.
Ratione allowed himself a moment to breath and take a knee.
***
The Furtumin raised his massive blade, pointing it into the sky, "Tsa bogum bunta bind!"
Quote:Translations in order of appearance:
"We are mount stars!" or "We are the ones who mount the stars!", "Mount" meaning to take control, as in mounting a horse or female.
"You bow beneath us!" or "You will bow to us!"
"Our fear is our weapon."