Venomdrinkers of T'Nanshi

Venomdrinkers of T'Nanshi

To the west side of the Third Brigade, the T'Nanshi Northern Division marched north to meet the enemy. The soldiers moved loosely, not prone to working in formation, so the footsteps sounded more consistent grumble than staccato percussion. Somewhere in the heart of the mass, the grey-armored Annihilator strode at the front of the Venomdrinkers, two eager young warriors walking on either side. One of the young proudly bore the unit's standard. The other walked confidently beside the Annihilator, chosen by his own peers to lead them into the battle.

A shout of the man's name drew his gaze to the right. Hustling through the crowd, dodging and weaving between elves, was a young human woman. She was considerably shorter than the Annihilator but taller than any of the elves, and wore her brown hair back in a pony tail that highlighted the simple, natural beauty of her face. Her body, however, was covered in heavy steel plate, and hanging at her back was a cruel redgate-model greataxe. Oddly, or perhaps not so oddly to those who recognized her, a holy symbol of the Sunheart hung openly on her breastplate. Several satchels filled with healing supplies were slung from her right shoulder to her left hip, where the contents could be easily reached by her hand in battle.

She reached the front of the Venomdrinkers and greeted their leader with an enthusiastic smile. The Annihilator smiled back with a quickness and breadth that suggested he couldn't help himself when she confronted him so. The standard bearer raised an eyebrow in surprise, but dared not inquire further. Notably, this woman was devoid of the trepidation on the faces of the surrounding elves. She and the Annihilator consulted a moment, and soon she fell into rank beside him and joined the Venomdrinkers on their trek into battle. The Annihilator introduced her to his trainees, who greeted her warmly, and said the rest of them could introduce themselves over drinks after the battle. There was a general rumble of approval from the group, and they picked up pace to retain their spot amongst the other units.

Battle was on them soon enough, marked by a loud roar that worked its way back through the Northern, followed by the forward surge of troops running to meet the enemy. Arrows loosed from behind sailed high over head, darkening the sky. The Annihilator, the Cha'rethite warrior, and the Venomdrinkers donned their helms and joined the charge.

The initial contact with the Drotid host halted the momentum of the charging lines, flattening the Nanshi units into one another as they compressed against the Shaahesk. Arrows sailed endlessly from the rear of the division, and some arrows were returned from the enemy lines. The Annihilator and his warriors drew their weapons: for him, the black soulblade; for them, a variety of implements ranging from rapiers to long swords to dual shortswords. The Healer drew her axe, and hefted it with practiced ease.

The Annihilator signaled, and his second called for the unit to hold back. Every man in the group saw the beginnings of the carnage unfold ahead of them, and obeyed. Powerful, sharp commands echoed from beneath the Annihilator's mask, and the Venomdrinkers formed up and adopted aggressive postures, the discipline and their training taking root at the barked orders of his familiar voice.

Shaahesk broke into the lines, and charged towards the unit. The Annihilator prepared to cut down the first, only to see the massive blade of the Healer's greataxe sweep out of nowhere and cut the lizardman in half. The momentum of her swing continued, and her body twisted as the axe bit into the second as well, ripping enough from the lizard to send it crumpling to the ground. A howl of approval sounded from the young warriors of the Venomdrinkers, and with a whirl of his blade that hissed as it split the air, the Annihilator joined her and tore into the incomers.

The Venomdrinkers followed their leader into battle. Each adopted the stances they were taught, and moved fluidly from one into the next. As the battle grew pitched, the young warriors' weapons, feet, and bodies started to flow smoothly from form to form, and all of their movements blurred into smooth, well coreographed dances. Their blades did not strike for the obvious weak spots, nor parry the obvious path of their attackers, but moved in sync with their bodies to maximize the opportunities to inflict damage while minimizing the opportunities to sustain wounds. Compared to their teacher, whose serpentine Dance of Death carved swaths through the enemies, the novice warriors were clearly inexperienced. Nonetheless, their training was complete, and every one of their number created death disporportionate to that experience, and in stark contrast to the relative inefficiency of the units around them.

The soldiers had always wanted to know the Annihilator's strength, and to see a demonstration of his power. Here, on the battlefield, they had their chance, but not one allowed themself to be distracted from the techniques they were taught. Little did they know, this discipline and skill were the Annihilator's gift to them, the true demonstration of ~his~ power.

The first Venomdrinker fell, cut deeply by the knife of a Shaahesk rogue, and the healer whirled. With a massive upswing she devastated the Shaahesk, shattering as much bone as cleaving flesh and knocking the lizard clean off its feat. She dropped without pause and stabbed the tip of her axe into the ground with one hand while drawing upon healing supplies with the other. Several of the other Venomdrinkers provided cover; the Annihilator himself shifted back and cut down three more approaching Shaahesk to assist as well. The Healer removed her helm and tossed it aside, and pushed her sweaty bangs from her face to get a clear look at the falled soldier. With fast, expert hands, she ripped the cloth of the soldier's tunic and salved the wound. Needle and thread were quickly removed from a small kit, and within seconds the needle was threaded and stitching the wound shut. Her dark eyes stared as she worked, unperturbed even by the bloodsplatter that reached her face as another Venomdrinker took a Shaahesk life. She tied the stitching closed, bit off the thread, and stowed her tools. The healer then drew a small vial from her satchel and poured it down the mouth of the wounded soldier. In seconds, the wound under the stitching knitted - not fully healed, but healed enough. She smiled, eyes quickly darting around her, then donned her helm and grabbed her axe just in time for another one of her upswings to destroy a lizard.

The Annihilator, the Venomdrinkers and the Healer made for an efficient engine of war. Their strength on the battlefield did not match that of the veteran units, but they were more than a match for any other novice units. At times, they were pressed heavily by the opposition, with the Healer and the Annihilator fighting back to back as they were pinned on all sides. At other times, the Venomdrinkers stood heroically in defense of their own while the gifted young woman plied her trade. Unquestionably, they were a deadly and effective unit throughout the whole of the battle.

When all was done, the Venomdrinkers lost five out of fourty, and killed no less than three shaahesk per man without counting the losses inflicted by the Annihilator himself - his soldiers claimed his kill count was in the hundreds, but those proud youths were likely prone to exaggeration. Similar units of novices suffered as great as fifty percent casualties, with abysmal kill ratios. As for the Healer, she was brutally effective in battle, her axe inflicting massive harm upon any foe she encountered. The Venomdrinkers, however, wouldn't remember her for that; they would remember her for hands and wits, and the gifts with which she saved almost every one of their lives at least once that day.

Back at camp, the Annihilator instructed his soldiers to properly treat their dead. He then gathered the group and shared his approval of their skill, and impressed upon them the importance of their training - how it must never cease, for the Spiritland would always have enemies, and henceforth must always have Venomdrinkers to meet them. The Healer joined the Annihilator by the campfire, but her bright smile had long been replaced by sadness. This was her way; she always mourned the loss of life on both sides. She and the Annihilator watched the young elves enjoy the greatest of victories, and spoke quietly, the subtle warmth in their manner towards each other suggesting the two had long been comrades and friends.

Periodically, they were interrupted by drunk, happy elves, but after the Annihilator scared the soldiers off they resumed their discourse. It lasted until almost sunrise, when the young healer finally passed out, wrapped in her cloak, leaning into the gore covered arm of the Annihilator's armor. For whatever reason, the Aarilaxian permitted this contact, but did not seem to pay it any particular attention. His dark eyes stared brooding into the fire, reflecting the red flicker of the dying flames while he immersed in his thoughts. Every once in a while, he could be heard whispering in Shaahesk, the black blade always within reach.