Spudd of Achaea

"A warrior does not allow acceptance of defeat to enter their mind… even defeat is a victory, for they will know more after the battle than before."
-- Yoda Darrion

Finely honed blades ringing aloud as they connect violently upon shields. Kaleidoscopic spells keening as they whistle through the air. The indomitable presence of Lord Aeon. It could be none other that a Capture the Flag. That or a night at The Bathory Chalet, but I assure you, it *is* a Capture the Flag.

It is now the Sarapin, 451 years after the fall of the Seleucarian Empire.

The scene opens upon a vast arid landscape. Harsh and dry, it supports only the hardiest of creatures; and yet this day, it sees unusually heavy traffic. A solitary speck upon the ochre sands, the El'Jaziran encampment stands stoically against the elements, and is the epicenter of the clamour. Hoardes clad in the colours of Ashtan and Eleusis have gathered in full military regalia, preparing for a great battle.

Hidden amidst the throng was one particular Ashtani Magi, Warlock Spudd, the Phosphorescent Phoenix - myself. It was my first battle of this magnitude and I was eager to prove my mettle to my countryman. Little did we Ashtani know, the first mêlée was close at hand. It happened in the twinkling of an eye, as the Eleusian forces turned to face us, and began their onslaught. Majin, the El'Jaziran Commander reacted fasted than what would seem possible. Raising the Ashtan pennant defiantly, he rallied his forces to rout the turncoats. Overwhelming the army of the forestal village, we emerged the victor after several minutes of blood splattered confusion, and planted the Ashtani flag in the loose sands. "For the glory of the Bastion!" cried Majin triumphantly, as cheers arose from the defenders. The Oasis was to remain in the hands of the Free for the entirety of the tournament.

The sting of betrayal was steadily evaporating. Eleusis' duplicity now lay disregarded upon the barren sands of the Mhojave where it was borne, and the Bastion had gone on to seize the lead. It was time the start an offensive. A contingent of Magi were sent to bombard the nearby Cyrenian base at the entrance to Moghedu. We were cocky, thinking we had enough to wipe them all out in one fiery barrage.

But we were mistaken.

Like lambs to the slaughter, we were dragged forcibly down the stony earth by geysers, vibrations, tentacles and whatever else they could throw at us. We lasted a scant five seconds before we were nothing more than charred corpses whose souls walked the Halls of Maya. Disheartened and disillusioned, we did not attempt to do the same a second time.

Then, came darkness. The puzzled troops raised their eyes fearfully towards the firmament, knowing this boded ill. A cast of falcons flew towards us, their numbers so many that they blotted out the noon day sun. We readied our baubles and weapons, preparing to slay these bloodthirsty beasts. A flurry of talons and beaks ensued, and somehow we managed to maintain our grip on the desert Oasis.

Summoned to our base at Mount Sinope, I slowly trudged my way over, still aching from the rending claws of the enemy falcons. I sent more than one young foe scurrying away with singed pants courtesy of my staff. Commander Poergh was overseeing the defence of the Mount. Only slightly disconcerted by the charred plant life and the lingering smell of scorched Rajamala fur in the air, I stood guard with the rest of the Bastion's forces. My suspicions were affirmed when a holocaust globe fell like a fiery hailstone. Summoning an Air Elemental, I flew above the Mountain in time to see Veldrin being whisked by a way by his Earring of Sinope; a cruel irony, considering my current location. Again and again, the cowardly dragon incensed our forces with his mediocre tactics, killing many.

Meanwhile, one of my city mates stole away from the fray, heading out towards Delos, and the flag sequestered there. In a monumental turn of events, that mans good intentions backfired. A frightful cacophony in the distance heralded that which we both feared and awaited.

They had awoken...

The fierce demon wreathed in a crimson miasma let out a thunderous roar; its scything talons directed at the Heart of Ashtan. The entrance of Mhaldor into the battle was a heavy blow to our barely coping forces. Jaizsur, who had managed to obtain a flag, now faced alone the bulk of Mhaldor's forces in Tasur'ke. He fought valiantly, but even the wielder of the Staff of Nicator could not overtake the Evil hoarde by himself.

The minor separation between Cyrene and Ashtan's scores was soom diminished furthur, until we were surpassed. But there was still a glimmer of hope! After some political acrobatics, Eleusis agreed to aide her erstwhile ally once more. But was it too late?

In the closing minutes of the tournament, victory seemed to be slipping from the Bastion's grasp. Feeling restless and unhappy with my lack of bombings, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Lead by Daeki, a small contingent of Ashtan's Magi flew to Shastaan for a surgical attack upon the forces of Cyrene and Shallam situated there. Channelling the powers of Fire, we armed our deadly globes and let fly.

Those who had consumed skullcap cringed in pain, as they sensed the vast numbers sent to Maya's Halls. But before the cavalry could arrive to secure our position, it was all over. In all our hearts we knew the grim reality, we were defeated.

As I ambled back to Ashtan, and caught a glimpse at her grand gates, I was oddly enough fighting a smile. 'This wasn't so bad,' I thought. We gathered at Fire and Spice as some drunk themselves into oblivion, hoping to ease the pain. The rest knew that we lived to fight another day, and that next time, the effigy would surely be ours.