Keros in Avernus
May 9, 2023 23:38:18 GMT
Ian (Menace), Queen Merla, the Sun-Blessed, and 8 more like this
Post by Tom M on May 9, 2023 23:38:18 GMT
CW Gore
As the infernal horde swept toward the 6th Legion’s lines, the blistering heat of Avernus seemed to intensify even further.
A volley of ballista fire tore into the merregons – known as “legion devils” themselves, the Kul Goran forces had been thoroughly briefed on these innumerable opponents. Masks bolted to their faces and cruel weapons in hand, they had little subtlety in their approach. No strategy, just a massed charge, but when they arrived – no concept of pity or mercy.
The blaring of warhorns was nearly drowned out by a gargantuan clash of metal on metal, Keros locked his shield into place alongside hundreds of others and formed what they hoped would be an impenetrable wall. He looked to the minotaur at his left side; Gorn Littlehorn had been with him since the academy and gave him a reassuring grin, “Probably think they’re hitting Dawnlanders” he said, turning a hoof in the dirt to get better purchase. Keros snorted in amusement, sweat dripping from his uncomfortable armour.
The devils nearly upon them the minotaurs planted their spear arms against their shields, gritted their teeth, and braced for impact.
The merrengons let out a high pitched wailing screech as they crashed against the minotaur line like a wave against rocks and Keros felt himself driven back by the force of impact. His hooves leaving welts in the ground as he put all his might into keeping his shield in formation. He glanced along the line as others bellowed in defiance – the line was holding, for now.
Hard to see with his shoulder jammed into the well of his shield, it looked like the devils’ “strategy” was working against them. They had hoped to free up some space to fight in, but the minotaur phalanx meant that their first few lines of infantry could barely breathe let alone attack – crushed by the ones behind them expecting them to be moving forward.
“HOLD! HOLD!” General Razorback’s commands echoed down the line, repeated by officers stationed alongside their soldiers.
Keros strained against the weight of devils being crushed into his shield, turning even his helmet and horns into it to give as much as he could. He looked back at the second line – a contingent of air genasi crouching with twin silvered blades drawn, but his eyes settled on Nim. A cool breeze seemed to flow over Keros as their eyes met. He should tell him how he felt…
A fiendish screech snapped him back to the reality of the battle as the weight against his shoulder seemed to subside – the devils had lost their momentum.
“PUSH! PUSH!” The order came down the line, but they needed no encouragement as the minotaurs grunted heavily and as one ground their hooves against the floor, forcing back the fiendish lines with a titanic shove that sent them reeling back. Keros’ spear lashed out before his eyes had even settled on a target, piercing through the abdomen of one of the merrengons stumbling away from him.
There was the briefest pause as the minotaurs, even Gorn who had failed to find purchase with his, held their spears out, before a gentle wind tickled their backs – the air genasi dancing over them flicking out their razor sharp blades into the infernal ranks. Keros watched Nim whirling back and forth with balletic grace as the head of the devil his spear was sticking into bounced off his spear shaft.
“ADVANCE! ADVANCE!” the air genasi ducked to the ground as Keros and the other minotaurs thundered forward, hefting their shields over the lightly armoured skirmishers and re-establishing the line on top of a pile of twitching fiendish dead.
“Nice work Nim.” He managed to grunt as he locked his shield back into the phalanx. Nim’s response being drowned out by a bellow of “OH GET A ROOM YOU TWO!” from Gorn at his side.
“BRACE! BRACE!” came a desperate cry from down the line. Keros girded himself against his shield, but the devils didn’t seem to have recovered from the counterattack yet, he couldn’t see why-
Too late he heard the beat of leathery wings from a pit fiend slowing its descent down just a few yards behind him followed by a sickening crunch as Kul Goran soldiers, minotaur and air genasi alike found themselves broken into the ground by massive reptilian feet.
The devil laughed as it swung its greataxe through unprepared warriors, blood spraying into the air and its wings buffeted Keros and the rest of the front line that was now dangerously out of position.
The merrengons cackled and renewed their offensive, battering against his shield, a claw reaching over and gripping onto one of his horns, yanking his head at a painful angle. Keros had little time to consider his impossible choice as the pit fiend began to turn around, but suddenly it was made for him as the axe followed its wielder’s momentum and slashed out across the line. Blinding heat and pain overtook him as Keros’ hip bone shattered – the axe passing through his armour like paper and leaving a bloody flap of skin and muscle peeling from his side.
He cried out and fell to the ground, his shield wedging into the ash of Avernus and propping up against his shoulder and horns. Roaring in pain he looked into the eyes of Nim who was lying on the floor next to him, the air genasi silent, smiling as he reached out to touch the side of Keros’ face gently for a second. The bottom half of Nim’s body lay some distance away. Everything went dark.
Keros awoke, bleary eyes making out a field hospital. No fire and brimstone here, but also no sense of urgency. Medics wandered around pushing trolleys and checking on their patients as if they had all the time in the world. The battle was clearly long since over.
Suddenly Gorn was looking down at him, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders, “MEDIC! HE’S AWAKE!” he yelled, startling one into dropping an armful of gauze they were carrying.
“We won! Those Dawnlanders took their fucking time about it, but their Cunning Plan” he said mockingly “worked! I mean, eventually anyway.”
Keros opened his mouth weakly “Did…” he trailed off as Gorn met his gaze and mournfully shook his head.
“We lost too many good soldiers holding that line for too long and they’ll all be honoured. We’re expecting a speech from Earthhardle any minute now. Keep your spirits up.” He slapped Keros on the shoulder as a huge, grey furred minotaur nurse pulled Gorn out of the way.
Keros couldn’t even hear the barrage of questions as he clenched his fists and closed his eyes, tears streaming across his face. The pain flooded from the wound in his side as a burning sensation wracked his entire body.
He let out a roar of anguish as the questions suddenly stopped. He opened his eyes to see the assembled medics had stepped back several feet and were staring. The sheets covering his body were scorched with infernal brimstone as if he’d brought the hellfires back with him somehow.
After a lot of whispered conversations Keros was cautiously checked over, given some crutches, and cleared to leave.
His honourable discharge papers were already on his bunk by the time he got to it.
He anonymously donated his pension to Nim’s family.
As the infernal horde swept toward the 6th Legion’s lines, the blistering heat of Avernus seemed to intensify even further.
A volley of ballista fire tore into the merregons – known as “legion devils” themselves, the Kul Goran forces had been thoroughly briefed on these innumerable opponents. Masks bolted to their faces and cruel weapons in hand, they had little subtlety in their approach. No strategy, just a massed charge, but when they arrived – no concept of pity or mercy.
The blaring of warhorns was nearly drowned out by a gargantuan clash of metal on metal, Keros locked his shield into place alongside hundreds of others and formed what they hoped would be an impenetrable wall. He looked to the minotaur at his left side; Gorn Littlehorn had been with him since the academy and gave him a reassuring grin, “Probably think they’re hitting Dawnlanders” he said, turning a hoof in the dirt to get better purchase. Keros snorted in amusement, sweat dripping from his uncomfortable armour.
The devils nearly upon them the minotaurs planted their spear arms against their shields, gritted their teeth, and braced for impact.
The merrengons let out a high pitched wailing screech as they crashed against the minotaur line like a wave against rocks and Keros felt himself driven back by the force of impact. His hooves leaving welts in the ground as he put all his might into keeping his shield in formation. He glanced along the line as others bellowed in defiance – the line was holding, for now.
Hard to see with his shoulder jammed into the well of his shield, it looked like the devils’ “strategy” was working against them. They had hoped to free up some space to fight in, but the minotaur phalanx meant that their first few lines of infantry could barely breathe let alone attack – crushed by the ones behind them expecting them to be moving forward.
“HOLD! HOLD!” General Razorback’s commands echoed down the line, repeated by officers stationed alongside their soldiers.
Keros strained against the weight of devils being crushed into his shield, turning even his helmet and horns into it to give as much as he could. He looked back at the second line – a contingent of air genasi crouching with twin silvered blades drawn, but his eyes settled on Nim. A cool breeze seemed to flow over Keros as their eyes met. He should tell him how he felt…
A fiendish screech snapped him back to the reality of the battle as the weight against his shoulder seemed to subside – the devils had lost their momentum.
“PUSH! PUSH!” The order came down the line, but they needed no encouragement as the minotaurs grunted heavily and as one ground their hooves against the floor, forcing back the fiendish lines with a titanic shove that sent them reeling back. Keros’ spear lashed out before his eyes had even settled on a target, piercing through the abdomen of one of the merrengons stumbling away from him.
There was the briefest pause as the minotaurs, even Gorn who had failed to find purchase with his, held their spears out, before a gentle wind tickled their backs – the air genasi dancing over them flicking out their razor sharp blades into the infernal ranks. Keros watched Nim whirling back and forth with balletic grace as the head of the devil his spear was sticking into bounced off his spear shaft.
“ADVANCE! ADVANCE!” the air genasi ducked to the ground as Keros and the other minotaurs thundered forward, hefting their shields over the lightly armoured skirmishers and re-establishing the line on top of a pile of twitching fiendish dead.
“Nice work Nim.” He managed to grunt as he locked his shield back into the phalanx. Nim’s response being drowned out by a bellow of “OH GET A ROOM YOU TWO!” from Gorn at his side.
“BRACE! BRACE!” came a desperate cry from down the line. Keros girded himself against his shield, but the devils didn’t seem to have recovered from the counterattack yet, he couldn’t see why-
Too late he heard the beat of leathery wings from a pit fiend slowing its descent down just a few yards behind him followed by a sickening crunch as Kul Goran soldiers, minotaur and air genasi alike found themselves broken into the ground by massive reptilian feet.
The devil laughed as it swung its greataxe through unprepared warriors, blood spraying into the air and its wings buffeted Keros and the rest of the front line that was now dangerously out of position.
The merrengons cackled and renewed their offensive, battering against his shield, a claw reaching over and gripping onto one of his horns, yanking his head at a painful angle. Keros had little time to consider his impossible choice as the pit fiend began to turn around, but suddenly it was made for him as the axe followed its wielder’s momentum and slashed out across the line. Blinding heat and pain overtook him as Keros’ hip bone shattered – the axe passing through his armour like paper and leaving a bloody flap of skin and muscle peeling from his side.
He cried out and fell to the ground, his shield wedging into the ash of Avernus and propping up against his shoulder and horns. Roaring in pain he looked into the eyes of Nim who was lying on the floor next to him, the air genasi silent, smiling as he reached out to touch the side of Keros’ face gently for a second. The bottom half of Nim’s body lay some distance away. Everything went dark.
Keros awoke, bleary eyes making out a field hospital. No fire and brimstone here, but also no sense of urgency. Medics wandered around pushing trolleys and checking on their patients as if they had all the time in the world. The battle was clearly long since over.
Suddenly Gorn was looking down at him, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders, “MEDIC! HE’S AWAKE!” he yelled, startling one into dropping an armful of gauze they were carrying.
“We won! Those Dawnlanders took their fucking time about it, but their Cunning Plan” he said mockingly “worked! I mean, eventually anyway.”
Keros opened his mouth weakly “Did…” he trailed off as Gorn met his gaze and mournfully shook his head.
“We lost too many good soldiers holding that line for too long and they’ll all be honoured. We’re expecting a speech from Earthhardle any minute now. Keep your spirits up.” He slapped Keros on the shoulder as a huge, grey furred minotaur nurse pulled Gorn out of the way.
Keros couldn’t even hear the barrage of questions as he clenched his fists and closed his eyes, tears streaming across his face. The pain flooded from the wound in his side as a burning sensation wracked his entire body.
He let out a roar of anguish as the questions suddenly stopped. He opened his eyes to see the assembled medics had stepped back several feet and were staring. The sheets covering his body were scorched with infernal brimstone as if he’d brought the hellfires back with him somehow.
After a lot of whispered conversations Keros was cautiously checked over, given some crutches, and cleared to leave.
His honourable discharge papers were already on his bunk by the time he got to it.
He anonymously donated his pension to Nim’s family.
Loved this read though!