Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-17114085-20160701214926/@comment-5543592-20160703143548

"There's a lot of them, isn't there?" One of the Tur murmured, his horse kicking up sand beneath him.

"More than we have warriors." A second agreed, pulling on his own reins as his horse cantered nervously, picking up on it's rider's own anxiety.

The Quanorin forces, thus selected to sure their Twyllesh, were the finest warriors in the eight Vendfuls, but they were not so numerous. It normally mattered little-- wars were few, and their expertise and training usually picked up the slack, but that would not suffice in this case.

A large army extended out behind the two Aldmeri nobles, but across the field, a greater force of Raboth stood. They mainly gathered in skirmishing parties of no real strength, but a particularly powerful chieftein had brought together a large number of smaller tribes from one portion of Morifel. Despite the size of the Raboth force, it was nothing compared to how many there must've been burrowed out in the wastelands further south.

"Could we crush them like this?" The first asked.

"Probably." The second answered. "But the losses on our side would be great.  I'm not in the mood for another massacre."

The chieftein stood at the front of the Raboth. He was tall, for a Raboth, but that meant little to an Aldmer. His real strength, was the massive Golem made of sand-blasted stone that stood over his shoulder, it's shoulders rising thirteen feet into the sky. None could guess how it had come to serve the Raboth, but it was there all the same. The Golem hadn't foughten on the battlefield yet, likely because such creatures avoided violence, but no one was eager to see the day when it did.

The chieftein began crossing the space between the two armies, likely seeking a chance to talk. Previous negotiations had been 'I kill you,' 'I crush you,' or 'I eat your heart.'  Very little of substance had been said, but that had been before the Quanorin had been throughly decimating the Raboth on the battlefield. Raboth fought mindlessly, with no tactics, but they had inexhaustable numbers. Aldmer did not.

The first Tor sighed, fixed a stern expression onto his face, and whipped the reins of his horse, quickly trotting across the field.

He pulled to a stop in front of the Raboth chieftein, and it looked up at the Aldmer.

"We no fight today." It told him.

"Of course we will.  You brought an army into Ninecia, we cannot let it sit here."

"No.  Armies no fight.  My warrior fights your warrior.  Best fight best.  Winner wins."

The Aldmer glanced past the chieftein, to the golem. "That's your best?"

"Yes.  Gal-lum is best." He made a motion in the air. The golem suddenly moved, stepping forward from it's place at the front of the army with earth-shattering stops, raising cheers and whoops from the Raboth force.

The Tor nodded. "Very well." He called over his shoulder. "Mithridates!"

There was an expect silence, which held. No Aldmer stepped forwards.

The Raboth chieftein snickered in a way that made it more disgusting than it already was.

"Your warrior hides, is coward.  Gal-lum scare him, I win."

The Aldmer lord glared at the chieftein. "Be careful who you insult, Tunneler filth."

"My lord!" A soldier called, riding up behind the noble. "Vendis Tur Mithridates is not with the army!"

"Well where is he?" The Aldmer demanded, embarressed now, and angry at being embarressed. "Send a boy for him!  Quickly!"

A young elf, only fifteen or so years old, an age equivalent to the blink of an eye for a grown Aldmer, dashed across the hard earth of the Quanorin plains, into the warcamp that sat outside the field of battle.

He sprinted by tents made of animal hides, until he came to one, larger than the rest, and ducked inside.

He scanned in the interior, it was sparse, barely furished. A man and two woman lay asleep on a bed of furs to one end of the room, all three in a state of undress.

The boy crept slowly towards them, the male elf was closest to him, laying on his stomach, one of the woman practically draped over him, using his back as a pillow.

The boy came to a stop, and reached out to nudge the elf, whose hand sudden darted out and caught the boy's wrist before it even came close. The boy gasped in surprise, lost his footing, and would've fallen over had the elf not held him up, the grip suddenly strong.

Mithridates opened one eye, looked at the boy for a moment, as is gauging him, before releasing the child.

"I was having a good dream." The elf mumbled, lifting his head to glance over the at the two women sharing the space with him. "A very good dream." He corrected.

"The Tor send me, my lord.  He needs you to-"

"I'll deal with the Tor in the morning." The Aldmer replied, resting his head on the pillow again.

"My lord, it is the morning."

The Aldmer froze, then both of his eyes snapped open. He looked over at the boy again, more attentive now.

"They're waiting for you."

Mithridates sighed, then pushed the woman off him, before rising to his feet. He dressed quickly in his armor, belted his sword to this waist, and then armed himself with his spear and shield, the boy acting the part of the squire to get him prepared.

The two then headed outside, to Mithridates' horse.

"Are the stories about you true?" The boy asked, as Mithridates handed him the shield and spear so that he could mount. "They say your mother is a goddess and that you can't be killed."

"I wouldn't be bothering with the shield then, would I?" Mithridates retorted dismissively, before extending his hand out for his equipment.

"But this Golem you're fighting." The boy continued, passing up the shield and spear to the Vendis Tur. "He's the biggest thing I've ever seen.  I wouldn't want to fight him."

Mithridates looked down at him, scowling slightly.

"That's why no one will remember your name." He told the boy. The boy said nothing in reply, and after another moment of staring at the lad, Mithridates kicked his horse into action, spiriting it towards the battlefield. The boy watched him go with a sullen look on his face.

He arrived in good time, and it was much in the state it had been in when the boy had left to retrieve him.

He came from behind the Ninecians, and rode straight through the army to reach the front. The lines parted for him, and the soldiers cheered, pumping there weapons in the air.

"Mithridates!  Mithridates!  Mithridates!"

The High Lord came to a stop by the two Tor at the front of army, and looked across the battlefield towards the Golem. If giant formations could seem apprehensive, it was.

Mithridates leapt from his horse, and began to cross to the Golem.

"Where have you been?" The first lord asked, frowning at Mithridates as the latter passed. "Perhaps we should have the war tomorrow, when you're better rested."

Mithridates stopped, then looked over at the lesser lord. "Perhaps you should fight it." He said indifferently, turning around to walk back the way he came.

"Mithridates." The second lord began, quickly moving to intercept him. "Mithridates.  Look at the men's faces." The lord said, both of them now facing the front line of the army, not ten feet away. "You can save hundreds of lives.  You can end this with a swing of your sword.  Let them go home to their wives."

Mithridates seemed to listen to that, and he turned, walking back towards the field now. As he passed the first Tor, he stabbed his spear into the ground.

"Imagine a lord who fights for his own Twyll." Mithridates said as he walked past. "Wouldn't that be a sight."

The second lord rejoined the first as they watched Mithridates walk out into the field, to face the Golem.

"Of all the warlords loved by the gods." The first Tor muttered. "I hate him the most."

The Golem a stone fist into a stone palm as it saw Mithridates traverse the field, and pumped it's arms in the air. The Raboth cheered behind their champion of rock once again, making tremendous noise. The Golem turned back to Mithridates, making a rumbling noise that sounded like a mudslide.

Mithridates drew his sword and broke into a light jog towards the Golem, expression intent, but unconcerned.

The Golem reached down and hefted a massive boulder from the ground, and launched it across the field towards Mithridates.

The boulder came spiraling down out of the sky, by Mithridates knocked it aside with a perfectly timed swing of his shield. The massive rock crashed into the ground next to him, throwing up dirt.

The shield was dented, and Mithridates tossed it aside, breaking into a dead sprint for the Golem. He closed distance fast, pumping his arms and legs. The golem tossed a second stone at him, smaller than the first, but still bigger than baby. He threw it directly at Mithridates' head, the projectile speeding like an arrow, but the Vendis Tur casually ducked, and the stone passed by harmlessly.

The Golem roared, stomping it's feet, and dropping into a stance. It then surged forward, lethargic at first, but gaining speed quickly.

The distance between Mithridates and his opponent closed, and the golem swung at the smaller elf in front of him.

Mithridates leapt, the Golem's fist pounding the dirt beneath their feet, and brought his sword arm back as he took to the air. He passed directly behind the Golem, and drove his sword deep into one of the gap of it's rocky hide, at the neck.

Mithridates hit the ground in walk, back turned to the Golem, sword at his side.

The Golem stumbled a step forwards, collapsed to it's knees, then dissolved into a pile of rubble.

Behind the High Lord, at the Ninecian army, a thunderous cheer went up.

Mithridates came to a stop at the Raboth front lines. The Tunnelers were uncertain now, and were cowering, stuck between fear and shock. The chieftein stared dumbly at Mithridates, as if the creature couldn't believe it's eyes.

Mithridates paced in front of them. "Is there no one else?" He demanded, his gaze fierce. "Is there no one else?"

There was no one else.

The Raboth pulled back into the desert, and the Ninecians returned to their city in celeberations.