THE DEMONBANE BANNER IS RAISED

[Xarkly 17299]

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

As dawn struck, the spring sun crept above Reinmar.

 

The morning light spread across the northern valleys, glittering against the grassy plains that still rimed with frost that lingered from the winter. It fractured through the canopies of the pine woods that cloaked the Reinmaren wilderness, tolling the end of the night’s hunt for the wolfpacks who darted between the trees, back towards their dens. It illuminated the pastures and fields - all ploughed in preparation for the year’s planting season - that encircled the curtain walls of the city of Kretzen, from which blue-green banners stirred in the morning’s gust. 

 

But, on this day, something was different in the city over which the spring sun rose. 

 

While merchants still erected stalls from which to hawk their wares and bakers’ chimneys plumed smoke from their mornings work, there was a thrum that rang through Kretzen’s streets, like a heartbeat. 

 

Soldiers walked the cobbles, and they were not just Vanders who wore their Chieftain’s colours. Among the warriors that thronged the Kretzen’s thoroughfare were the Exalted Knights of Ser Lughais, marked by their crimson tabards and surcoats, and the ivory-cloaked commandos of the White Comet. It was as the bells of the Temple of Martyrs began their tolling for Terce prayers that the morning light fell squarely on the city square.

 

It was there, from a bed of burning coals, that a flagpole was thrust into the sky. A banner - old and singed with a dark flame that left the cloth’s frayed edges mottled - hung from that flagpole, rippling defiantly in the light. The sunlight caught the traces of gold that remained on the banner, and the cross emblazoned on its centre.

 

Though burnt and scarred by time, that banner drew all eyes. For it had been the standard of Caius Primus, the Pontiff of Reinmaren blood who gave his life in the Light’s victory over the Hexicanum, and now it flew once more. 

 

It was under the auspices of that standard that the soldiers - the crusaders - rallied, and before long the sound of smiths’ hammers replaced the church bells as fresh weapons were tempered; the stench of acrid sulphur wafted through the square as alchemists brewed batches of Tanglefoot and Blasting Potions; and warhorses brayed patiently as cavalrymen worked their harnesses, and loaded their supplies.

 

The Vanders of Reinmar. The Exalted Knights. The White Comet. 

These united forces readied themselves beneath that banner. 

 

For it was the Demonbane Banner.

 

And it was coming for Belvedere.

 

 

[FlemishSupremacy 6115]

A Nephilim rode for Reinmar, keen to see this Demonbane banner for himself.

[Irene 471]

A Glint of light flickered from reflective eyes from shrubbery, where a particular meeker Adunian crouched lowly as she watched certain passersby lumber past her hiding spot. Her lungs burned from the cold air as snowflakes fell, her nose dry and red from prolonged exposure to the cold air. Little Daisy dug her fingers into the earth once she knew the coast was clear, flexing her freezing fingertips into the soft dirt to ground herself in the moment. Sure, traveling alone was perhaps a death sentence to some, but, how could she not? It was all she knew for years, and if she could not survive traveling alone, how In the hell could she survive this?  

 

Survive...

 

That word was all too familiar. One of the first words she learned in the common tongue, along with 'hello, goodbye, yes, and no... Survive' 

A word.

A way of life and nature. 

 

Though,  the little girl stood slowly, armor gently causing little pings of noise with the brambles detaching from it, akin to freezing rain hitting metal roofing.  plink.. plink... plink. 

 

Breath escaped her lips, rolling upward in curling smog due to the icy air. Hands wiped away the dirt and snow upon her tabard... Thoughts of home, though now not of one place but rather in the people who make up such a feeling and existence. Something she never knew she would acquire in the future... let alone multiple ones.

And so, she would fight for them, tooth and nail, claw and fang. Bleeding for not just the survival of herself but for all that she now came to love and behold in her life, in her youth. Perhaps she was not intentionally made to be this way, mayhaps in another life she'd be sipping tea in frilly dresses and giggling about the daily gossip or squabblings. However, here she was, Little Daisy, ready to mold herself anew in preparation for the fight to come.

[Ninjay 1184]

"VILLORIK! VILLLORRRRIK!!!"
A man, perhaps a touch mad, screamed through the streets of Kretzen.
"TAKE MY ENERGY, VILLORIK! ASK IT, AND MY MACE IS YOURS!"