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Xarkly

The Dragon's Jaws

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The Red Vaeyl gathered in Lasthope’s great hall. All four-hundred-and-thirty-two of them.

 

Packed together between the massive pillars, they formed a wave of black-white plate, their bronze weapons in hand as their white bearskin cloaks draped over their pauldrons. As she approached the balcony that overlooked the horde of Red Vaeyl gathered below, Serris of Deep Harbour had no doubt that her mind was experiencing the exact same thing of each of her Knights. They were thinking back to a time, many many years ago, when Lashope had been nothing more than haphazard scaffolding scaling the enormity of Krug’s Folly; thinking back to a time where they celebrated their victory over Avendal and Tharax and the end of the Dragon War in these halls; thinking back to a time when they had smiled, laughed and danced.

 

There was dead silence as Serris took her place at the balcony, bronze gauntlets resting on the balustrade as the Vaeyl below eyed her silently. That silence seemed to last forever before she forced the words out of her throat,

 

“I know,” she began slowly, “that all of you are tired.” Tired was an understatement; it was all too jarring for a Vaeyl to simply recall the centuries they had endured. “I am tired too. I am tired of fighting. I am tired of having my home taken from me. I am tired of life.”

 

Her words hung heavy in the hall. She knew each of them felt the exact same way.

 

“But that is why,” her voice cracked through the silence like a whip, “we cannot give up. We cannot give up, lest we are lost. We cannot give up, lest we forget how it was us who led the Descendants to victory against the Fallen Daemon. We cannot give up, lest we forget Horen’s betrayal and the Exile of Aeros. We cannot give up, lest we forget the Sacking of Serrimor.” With each word, her tone grew harder, tempered by both white-hot anger and frozen resilience. “We cannot give up! Lest we forget the Dragon War! We cannot give up, lest we forget Yrodholm! We cannot give up! Lest we forget the Black Accord, and the September Prince! We cannot give up!” Some echoed the cry, now. “Lest we forget each drop of blood we've spilled for all Descendants! Lest we forget every time we have died in the name of Atlas and the world, only to be denied the peace of death! WE CANNOT GIVE UP, LEST EVERYTHING WE HAVE DONE IS FORGOTTEN! WE CANNOT GIVE UP!”

 

The hall exploded in lilting shouts as the Red Vaeyl took up the cry. “WE CANNOT GIVE UP!”

 

Despite the noise, the sound of Serris ripping her bronze blade from its sheath sounded like a warhorn. “WE CANNOT GIVE UP, AND SO WE SHALL FIGHT!” She roared, her lungs stinging. “WE SHALL FIGHT FOR SERRIMOR! WE SHALL FIGHT FOR YRODHOLM! WE SHALL FIGHT FOR ATLAS! BUT MOST OF ALL, WE WILL FIGHT FOR OURSELVES! WE WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN, CONDEMNED TO A VILLAIN IN HISTORY, NOT AFTER ALL WE HAVE SACRIFICED! AND SO WE SHALL FIGHT!”

 

More roaring. They might have been chanting, but Serris paid them no heed. She was speaking to herself now as much as any of them.

 

“THE INVADERS BEYOND THESE WALLS ARE BABES WHO CANNOT EVEN COMPREHEND WHAT WE HAVE GIVEN, WHAT WE HAVE ENDURED, WHAT WE HAVE SACRIFICED! THEY HAVE MARCHED INTO THE DRAGON’S JAWS, AND SO SHALL WE SNAP DOWN ON THEM! FOR THEY FIGHT FOR THEIR TWISTED PERCEPTION OF RIGHTEOUS, WHILE WE FIGHT FOR OUR LOST HUMANITY, FOR FAMILIES CENTURIES DEAD, FOR A HOME THRICE LOST!”

 

She raised her sword. The faint pale light of Yatl glimmered on its edge.

 

“WE WILL FIGHT FOR EVERY MOMENT WE HAVE EVER LIVED! CARAI CAS SERRIMOR!”

 

“CARAI CAS VAEYL!”

 

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“White is right.” Ser Carlovac says, referring to the good Vaeyl.

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Elrith sets sail to ******* leave Atlas and avoid the Red Vaeyl.

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1 hour ago, TankM1A2 said:

“White is right.” Ser Carlovac says, referring to the good Vaeyl.

“White is might.” states Godemir to his old friend, referring to the good Vaeyl.

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15 minutes ago, Aussie_Abo said:

“White is might.” states Godemir to his old friend, referring to the good Vaeyl.

“WHITE IS POWER” completes Dalek

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