Boulders rained like hail on the city. Nirns stood ready to invade at each cardinal gate. Dunari was surrounded. The farms that dotted the landscape of the city's jurisdiction were in flames and filled with the corpses of Tryfes. The Tryfes were natives to the land of Asricot, a land that was a mix between plains, savannah and woodlands. The Province was rich with Pinstin ore. An ore that when smelted turned to a shade of orange, and was rather strong and light. It matched that of steel in Nirn, but was way more abundant. Nonetheless, that was not the reason for the full on assault on the city. The Nirns wanted revenge, and to fulfill the prophecy they received. This was the first step. It was also the first battle. Nirn had remained neutral throughout all the years of warfare, despite being allies with the Elves, who constantly waged war on the Faen. The Elves did a quick, one month training session with all the Nirn warriors, taking a month to officially achieve a basic understanding. Elven generals trained tacticians, and Elven archers trained the bowmen. It helped, because now the Nirns had a sense of war. And they would use this sense.
"Are you ready?" asked a man to Acateil. This man stood six feet tall, much like every other Nirn male, and had a beard that could be made into a small blanket. His green eyes complemented his golden cheeks, and actually made him look less harsh. He appeared no more than a farmer. Much like Acateil. "Not really. But anything for my homeland." Acateil replied.
His own blue eyes studied the male beside him. Blue cloth over hard leather armor over an iron plate, over another bit of leather. The booths too were made of leather, with iron on the front and underside. A simple helm of leather was all that protected everyone's heads. The outfits were cheap, but the weapons cheaper. Everyone had an iron sword. The blade was a mere three feet, with a hand and a half grip. No cross guard, and the whole thing was made of iron, from tip to pommel. It would do though. It had to.
"I agree." Said the Nirn. He steeled himself as the men on the frontlines moved. Acateil did the same. He resided in the third row in the first wave. The first objective was securing a way for the secondary waves to move in. It was a near suicide mission, but it was necessary. As soon as the gates opened, the first wave moved through. The first row squeezed through, and fell immediately. The second row made a little more progress, but met the same fate.
This is the end already. Acateil thought. He saw the Tryfe archers as they notched another arrow. He stared at the row, waiting for the arrows to fly, but they never came. Instead, large bits of stone rained on them, crushing and killing them. This opened a way for the Acateil's row to move in. The first thing that Acateil saw was a large building in the middle of a set of marble stairs. It seemed untouched, and like it housed Tryfes inside. Acateil tapped the man to his left and pointed at the building. The man nodded and shouted, "This way brothers!" He drew his sword, and so did everyone else. He and Acateil rushed towards the building. Something behind a pair of curtains had moved, signaling someone was inside. Acateil was the first to reach the door. Coming in from a full on sprint, he bashed his shoulder into the door, breaking it open and causing him to stumble in. Three Tryfes waited on the other side. They wore leather armor, bore Pinstin swords, and held small wooden shields. They stood four feet tall, the average height for Tryfes, had really long ears, no hair, large eyes, small noses, and tan-pink skin. Acateil didn't hesitate to bring his blade down quickly on one, slashing through his soft flesh and killing him. Swiftly, the Nirn warrior swung his sword at an angle and slayed another. By now, more Nirns poured in to the building. The entire third row, a total of fifteen people now rushed in the building. They moved through every room of the building, killing anyone and everyone. After they moved through the white halls that ere now painted red, the moved on through the rear entrance. Acateil was the last one out. He stood in place for a moment, soaking in the destruction of the city. A hand tapped his shoulder and startled him. He whipped around to see a familiar face from training.
