Storm of Iron (Geldar and Mikasa)

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Storm of Iron (Geldar and Mikasa)

Postby Aronan on Sat Mar 19, 2011 2:19 am

This is a story about the two brothers, Geldar & Mikasa making their way through Icecrown towards the Argent Tournament with a contingent of Alliance forces, but things do not turn out as smooth as expected. Wrote this some time ago to show Mikasa how awesome he really is, enjoy:


The cliffs streaked by beneath a darkening sky slashed with crimson lightning. The glaciers and valleys of Icecrown were deep in shadows like pools of ink, the distant frozen mountains like broken teeth around the horizon. The gryphons screeched as they moved closer to their destination, around fifty of them.

The valley yawned blackly below them as they landed, its dark frozen and glassy sides sweeping all around the men as they dismounted. The valley itself was deep and shadowy, like everything else in Icecrown, no signs of vegetation, or of life for that matter. A frozen wasteland, the dark magic of the Lich King could be seen even from here at the outer reaches of Icecrown; the sky above was almost the same colour as night even though it was still noon, and dark magic was everywhere - black streaked with blue and crimson lightning.

"Move out, tight formation! Paladins in front, priests and mages at the middle, rest of the troops at the back, me and Mikasa will be taking point!" called Geldar as he dismounted from his gryphon, eying the men and women of the Alliance forces who were dismounting and going into formation. His brother moved to his side, holding the huge claymore he usually carried with him.

Geldar`s senses were flooded with the sense of corruption and dark magic as he moved slowly through the valley: it was dark and wretched, the ice clinging to the rock like a sickness. This whole place was forsaken, but even here, in this barren wasteland, filled with death and destruction, the Light still shone, and the ones who were to deliver that Light were currently moving towards the outer reaches of the Argent Tournament: fifty Alliance soldiers, mages, priests and paladins, led by Geldar Angelos and his brother, Mikasa Angelos.

Their goal was simple: the troops were to move towards the Argent Tournament as fast as possible and meet up with the Argent forces there for directions and directives towards the citadel, but due to the fact that there were frostbrood wyrms flying above and around the Tournament, flying there with gryphons would have been suicide, so they had had to land in this cold valley, in the middle of nowhere within Icecrown, and make their way towards the Tournament on foot.

But they were going to learn soon enough that nothing is as easy as it may seem. A trip through Icecrown would be equal to a trip through hell and back, and they were going to be guests of honour, for each and every movement of outsiders is seen, and eventually dealt with quite swiftly. The living were not welcome here and soon they would discover that.

Mikasa saw them first, and Geldar knew that something was going to go pretty wrong by the way the troops suddenly looked towards the ridge of the valley along the slope. He followed their gaze and saw the ridge bristling, almost like a forest itself was marching down towards them. There were suddenly banners and swords, Alliance and Horde, tattered remains of a former life, a mockery to those forces these might have belonged to. And a warning to those who were here now, as to what would happen to them as well.

Geldar looked around as the jingling of armour and the groaning of the undead washed over the sounds of the freezing wind passing through the valley. There were ghouls, skeletons and other undead abominations of all sizes and shapes on the both sides of the valley, probably a few hundred of them, waiting for the Alliance forces patiently. And he could hear the necromancers leading them, muttering loudly incantations with which they controlled the mindless undead, preparing them for the onslaught.

"Close up, tight formation! Paladins in front, the mages and priests at the back. They are going to charge!" yelled Mikasa, and the troops gathered in a tight formation inside the valley, shields, claymores and hammers in front as a loud horn brayed above and the undead began staggering in a black mass towards the line as the valley thundered. And both brothers saw the flashing of frozen armor of their former brothers-in-arms, now undead, carrying and waving those tattered banners as a mockery to who they once were.

Mikasa yelled an order from the center of the line, and the mages from the back began conjuring arcane fire, streaking the flames towards the advancing mass of undead. Every mage was throwing bright orange streaks of fire into the charging mass, kicking up bursts of bone and undead flesh as the flame impacted, immolating everything in its path. Bodies were incinerated, undead were blasted backwards in a flailing of broken limbs. But more came, trampling the bodies of their fallen and, as the killing zone was pilled deeper with undead, the stench of death got stronger. Then the undead finally charged.

The first of them hit and Geldar saw decaying flesh, broken teeth, rusting and frozen armor over tattered cloth, dark decaying skin and white hair. He slammed the undead abomination with his shield, making it stagger back just enough so that he could cleave it in two with his sword. Beside him, a paladin had sheared the head off another abomination and clambered over its fallen body, swinging his mace to knock more undead aside.

His brother Mikasa waded in, his claymore sweeping in a wide arc around the flank of the line, leaving a wide half circle of shattered and mutilated undead bodies. The ringing of steel against steel was filling the cold air and both brothers felt it as the charge hit home. The paladins and priests were intoning prayers as they fought, the mages bathed the enemies in front in arcane flames, and soon enough the charge itself was reduced to bloody tatters; but still the mass of undead swordsmen advanced.

This was how forces were lost. Regardless of how well trained they were, they would be swamped and smothered, trapped between a mountain of corpses where eventually their abilities would fail them and they would die, their sword arms pinned to the ground. And now, the mass of corpses pressed home. Swords stabbed out, almost in comical slow motion, clanging off the shields, a wall of steel in front of a sea of hate filled faces.

A ghoul ducked a slash from the sword of a paladin and leaped on the man, knocking him a few steps back, followed by a few dozen more who dragged him to the ground. Mikasa cleaved another abomination from throat to groin with his claymore and then another, but they were now pouring in through the breach, not knowing what fear is, driven only by the goal of destroying the living.

"We need to break out from here! We`ll be swamped soon!" Geldar yelled towards the back at the priests who were preparing something, low incantations ringing throughout the sounds of steel hitting steel. He saw his brother, clambering over a sea of ghouls and skeletons striking left and right with his claymore, the paladins all around doing their best to maintain order, the mages behind sending wide streaks of fire lashing through the lines of the undead, the priests not currently occupied were shielding the soldiers in front with unbreakable barriers of Light. But still there were too many to thin out.

And then, the priests began chanting, soon joined by the paladins - trying to keep up as best as possible through the onslaught, and both brothers could feel the ringing in their minds as they joined in the incantation. What they were casting was a spell first used by the strongest of those who could wield the Light – something akin to the devastation which the Ashbringer brought upon the legions of undead, though he was the most powerful of them all. This was something different: it went by the name of Holy Wrath, and it was created to destroy all undead foes around in a certain range, but it required many people focusing at the same time.

The crescendo rose, a deafening and ringing choir as the incantation neared its end, golden light beginning to flicker around the soldiers, and finally an explosion of pure Light surged forth, almost like one of the giants from the Storm Peaks slamming down, ripping through through the surging hordes of undead, literally vaporising any undead in its path. In the flash, Geldar saw skeletons and ghouls blasted clean of their bones and flesh, necromancers disappearing, and finally a wide space scoured of the enemy who were incinerated.

The holy wrath spell had made a clearing in front of the soldiers, the earth swept clear of undead, their smoldering remains littering the ground. With a roar, the line charged into the broken mass of undead, the priests and mages following, spraying arcane fire and spells of holy light into the remaining mass of the undead flesh. The paladins excelled on the offensive and they carved through the enemy, led by Mikasa whose claymore flashed through the freezing air as it made its descent once more towards another unfortunate undead.

Geldar followed, flanked on both sides by paladins, hacking and slashing through what he could, following up the onslaught which his brother and his men left behind as they carved further into the ranks of the undead, towards the necromancers who were controlling the mass. Soon enough these were dead as well, trampled underneath the feet of the armored paladins. The undead began fleeing now that there was no one to control them and force them forth; somewhere in their undead state they felt fear towards these men and women of the Light, and were dropping their weapons and trying to stagger away or to the side, as far as possible from the paladins and priests.

The battle had turned into a rout and more and more undead followed, their tattered banners falling. That was the way to break the undead; show them what the Light can do and make sure that each one saw it, and prove to them that if they stayed they would be next in line. But the battle was not over just yet: something stirred under the ice of the valley and large cracks began to appear on its surface as something began ascending. A skeletal hand – each finger as big as a arm of a fully grown man – slammed into the icy surface from one crack.

A huge dark shape shifted and began breaking from the ice, rising on its huge feet, its form decayed, its face a horrible decaying mass of flesh over white bone, the remains of armor clinging to it. Blind eye sockets, now filled with blue necromantic magic, seethed as eyes now; its gnarled teeth grinned as it planted itself on the ground once more and fully rose through the ice, an enormous, twisted bone guardian saturated in necromantic magic. Its mouth opened as it bellowed, the sound sending cracks through the ice, and the mages opened fire, sending bolts of arcane fire towards its form, shattering bones and sending them flying across the ice.

The huge hand reached forth and grabbed one of the nearby paladins, lifting him in the air, and with a bellowing roar, slammed him against the icy ground, so hard that the impact caused the ice to give in, cracking in multiple places. The giant lifted him again, slamming him a few more times until the ground was covered in blood and gore from the remains of the poor man's body. Mikasa charged, as Geldar knew he would do – and the bone giant swung its arm and sent the paladin flying to the side.

Geldar watched as his brother rolled to the side, and he ordered the mages for yet another barrage of arcane flames, but as they did what they were ordered, the giant simply seemed to ignore the flames. At full height he was nearly ten to fifteen meters tall. A foot slammed down on the icy ground and a chasm opened, the ice itself tipping inwards. Everyone fought to remain on their feet, and as they did, the giant picked up a huge piece of ice, wielding it as a weapon as he cleaved through two men as if they were made out of butter.

Geldar couldn't hear a sound as they died, he just regained his footing and charged forth. The giant swung his hand once more trying to toss Geldar aside like his brother, but he ducked and passed underneath the arm, slashing up quickly with his sword. And the sword passed between the rusty armor through the huge ribs, breaking off bone, cutting through the dried remains of its leather padding. Geldar withdrew his sword and stabbed again, the blade passing and breaking into the spine of the giant. He twisted the blade to wrench it free.

But the enormous giant's hand closed over his armored body and he felt himself being lifted upwards - he slashed once more with his sword hoping to sever the hand with the blade that remained, but all he could see between the fingers were those blue necromantic eyes full of hatred towards the living. Then there was a flash of light and the head snapped to the side, shards of bone flying everywhere like arrows; the hand let go and Geldar fell down on the icy ground as a few paladins flanked the monster and were trying to take it down, its skull without a jaw from the violent impact of the mace.

Geldar moved to the side, away from the monster, rising up on his feet once again, looking for an opportunity to charge while the beast was distracted. He reached down and grabbed one fallen paladin to help him onto his feet and to move him away from the onslaught back towards where the ranks of the priests and mages were standing, but soon enough he returned to the onslaught as he saw men being thrown aside by those huge bone hands.

The shape of his brother appeared once more, his battered armour glinting, blood streaming from a rent on his forehead, but overall he seemed alive and well. Geldar knew what he was about to do as he moved towards the back of the monster, and he ignored the pain as he charged forth once more, but the blade with which he tried to slash at the giant was knocked to the side and he could barely keep his footing. Once he regained it, he stabbed again, feeling those huge ribs turning the blow away, but he was trying to distract it, not kill it this time.

It reached down and Geldar rolled out of the way of the giant fist that slammed into the ice behind him. A paladin deflected the huge hand with his mace, which gave Geldar enough time to slash against the giant's leg and he was rewarded with a few more chunks of bone ripping. The giant swung its icy sword towards the paladin, which he met with a swipe of his own mace, shattering the ice in a shower of small shards. The giant then leaned down and tried to pick the paladin up, but Geldar was faster this time. He dived forth and jumped up, enough that he could reach the leaning figure's eyes and deliver a blow in one of the sockets.

The giant shrieked, making the ice of the valley shake, and turned its head towards Geldar, another bellowing roar following as its hand swiped him away and tossed him against the ice in the direction that it had kicked the other paladin but a few moments ago. Geldar saw his brother advancing from the side, brandishing his claymore with both hands. Mikasa was the best fighter he knew; the claymore flashed, and the monster toppled as one of its legs was severed in a shower of bone shards.

The beast was on its side now, trying to smash the man with its huge hands, but Mikasa was faster. He slashed again and its ribcage cave way to the massive claymore. He was battering it with every strike, and it lifted one of its remaining hands to bellow out another roar, but it was too late. The claymore cleaved its neck and decapitated its skeleton head. The giant's bony face twisted in agony from its death as its head rolled to the side onto the ice, and from the remaining part of its neck, blue magic leaped up, lighting up the area around them. The screaming rose to a shriek too high pitched to hear as the body finally exploded.

Mikasa walked over to his brother who was lying on his back on the ice, trying to catch his breath from the onslaught, and offered him a hand to stand up. Geldar took the hand in a iron grip, rising up to his feet.

"Told you I could do it," Mikasa exclaimed in his typical fashion.

"Yeah, just after me and my men exhausted it," Geldar said with a bloodied grin. "Order the men to pick the dead, we are carrying them to the tournament. There is still a long way so keep in formation," he added with a nod.

"Nag, nag, nag. What do you think I am? Twelve years old, that I would not know what to do?" Mikasa said, a funny note creeping through his voice.

"Yes," said Geldar simply and patted his brother's plated shoulder as he turned around and walked towards the mass of soldiers to help with what he could. There was a long way to the Tournament grounds, and it was going to be a long day.
"It is a sign of strength to cry out against fate.. rather than bow one's head and succumb."
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Character: Aronan
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