The arrival of the destitute

The war was coming and Connor arrived at The land of adventure to get ready for it. He was in a war tent looking at reports about the militia that arrived. His table was haphazardly ridden with papers. He looked at the lords that had sent their soldiers and calculated their total number.

"About two thousand." He tapped over his desk, calculating.

"And only five artifact holders. Well, it cannot be helped since the call went off rather late." Connor said glancing at the pages.

He looked at the names of the artifact holders, the men who came for the call of war in The book of artifacts. The book of artifacts held account of all artifact holders, living and dead.

Wyot Hamptone, aka The unmovable. He held The Warmonger, a mace that increased in weight as it gets coated in blood.

Ealhstan Walshe, aka The beast whisperer. He held The Dreamsong, a necklace that helped him communicate with animals.

Blake Wiltane, aka The truth holder. He held The Sunshard, a staff that helped him change the odds of a fight he saw.

Haywood Willarde, aka The medicine man. He held The Maiden's touch; if he knew the ailment and the cure for it, the vessel will provide it.

And finally, Radcliff Welche, aka The unwavering arrow. He held The Barrage, a quiver that responded to the user's zest and provided with arrows.

Connor was going to participate in the war. He glanced at the long sword, its hilt golden with a red ruby embedded in it. It was his divine artifact; Redstreak. It increased his speed as the battle progressed, but at the cost of his Zest.

Connor tapped on his desk loudly and a man came in asking about his need.

"Find the artifact holders and let me know," he commanded.

After completing his paperwork, he went outside to meet with the artifact holders. He saw men of different houses, soldiers, and adventurers outside. The cacophony of their talking and the smell of cooked food filled the air.

Conner found the artifact holders near a tent.

Wyot was standing with his hands crossed, wearing full steel armor with its helm in between his hands. Ealhstan was sitting with a bird perched on his hand. Radcliff was sitting and polishing his bow. Blake was sitting leaning back, his eyes closed. Haywood was sitting forward, his fingers tightened and worried.

"When will the battle start?" Wyot shouted, seeing Connor.

"Don't be impatient, you will have your chances. I came to discuss your roles in the army." Connor said silencing Wyot.

"Wyot and I will be in the front with the horse cavalry. Behind the infantry will form a wall. Radcliff will ride and shower the enemy in arrows in the beginning. He will be riding just behind the infantry. Ealhstan will command the birds and Blake will move the troops accordingly while also supporting them. Archers will be behind all. Haywood will tend to the wounded so that the casualties will be kept minimum." Connor explained.

Everyone nodded to Connor's commands. Connor left for the stage to direct instructions to the soldiers.

"Men who have come to bleed. Men who have come in the time of need. Men who have come for the call of duty. I welcome you." Connor shouted.

"Our enemy doesn't create anything. They know only to take. They plunder, rape and pillage. I have seen them do it to deimians and should we fail, this nation will be next." Connor said clenching his fists emotionally.

"I will not fail a second time. I plan to stand and fight when the time comes. If you plan on running, remember that they will rape your wife while eating your children. If there is a coward among you, run back but not back to your family. Because you will have failed it." Connor said pointing to each soldier.

"Why are your swords pointed downward? Point it to the north, point it to the neck of the destitute. Slice their throats, break their bones and tear them apart. For they are not men, but mere monsters." Connor's voice raged.

Swords started clattering and shouts were made. Vultures started flying above, waiting for fallen corpses. Connor came down the stage, soldiers clapped and nodded saying that they plan on doing their duty.

Connor got reports saying that they reached The first town. He instructed in moving the troops across the border.

The troops moved and stood according to the arranged formation. The men were silent, readying their minds for the war. Connor could hear men swallowing their saliva, their breathing, and the snickering of horses.

It was morning when they came, but the sun was now right above their heads. Sweat trickled down their necks into the ground turning to steam.

And then the ground started quaking.

They started coming. Ogres in the front with goblins and orcs behind. Their bodies were covered in blood and entrails. They gleed with a lack of care in each step.

Looking closely, Connor saw that there were leaders in each troop. The leaders towered the troops. An Ogroard, leading the ogres and the biggest of them towered even Wyot. The orc lord was larger than him and more muscular. The goblin champion was larger than The Orc lord but smaller than the Ogroard and it was greener than the other goblins.

Connor glanced at the coming enemy from left to right. There were more of them, at least three thousand.

The men clenched their swords and shouted, saliva dangling from their mouths. The vultures cried high above. The sun scorched their skins.

"And so, they come," Connor muttered tightening his grip.

"To battle. To protect the ones we care about and to death." He roared with his sword held high, the red jewel glimmering.