Battle Report Contest Honorable Mention - The Call to Battle
Des Moines, Iowa, United States
I felt the satisfying crunch of my hammer smashing the giant ettin’s skull to finish it off. Over the blood pounding in my ears, and the cries of battle I heard a sound. It was the crystal clear note of a trumpet; a call to battle. With a thought I teleported myself to the guildhall, as all active members were required to report for duty.
“Who do we have this time?” I asked Neon upon appearing in the Band of Brothers’ Guild Hall. Neon Tetra wasn’t the founder of the clan, but he had certainly become a major player, and often led us into battle. A fire elementalist of no small power, who also dabbled in the divine arts, Neon was a force to be reckoned with.
“Does it matter?” he replied with a grin. “We’ll do the same to them that we do to whoever dares cross our path.”
“Let’s not get too cocky,” came a voice from behind me. It was Tyrole Zanvwoski, my big brother. “Let’s just play it the way we always do. Teamwork and concentration. We’ll celebrate after we’ve won,” he finished, putting his own hammer over his shoulder that was now protected, along with the rest of his body, by his new platemail.
“He’s right, let’s focus and do this!” came another voice, this time from Jonas of the Rift, our resident monk, and the man to whom we all owed our lives many times over.
Looking back I saw we were mostly there. Seven in all we had. Grabbing a monk henchman, Neon sent out the challenge and in moments we were ready to go head to head in another guild war.
In the seconds before the battle actually began I looked around at the team we had assembled. There was Neon, of course, ready to unleash hell on a moment’s notice. Right beside him was our faithful healer, Jonas. Then there was Black Omen. He was a quiet one, but wielded powerful necromantic abilities. Next was Seabass. Seabass was a sure shot with his bow, using it to slow our enemies so that they wouldn’t be able to flee our fury. After Seabass was Vierna, not showing any of the nerves we all were feeling, but rather a rock of self-confidence, ready to unleash spells of her own wherever they might be needed. Then, finally, there was Tyrole and myself. The brothers Zanvwoski. Both hammer wielding warriors, ready to pound our foes into earth upon which they stood.
Then, we charged the field. I grabbed the flag in passing and we went straight for the middle. We got there expecting to run headlong into the enemy, but they weren’t there. I claimed the middle in the name of TooL, and we waited for the enemy to appear. After a moment or two we started to wonder, and Neon sent Tyrole back to see if the enemy had tried to go around and attack us from behind.
Sure enough within moments we heard shouting and the sounds of battle behind us. We rushed back and joined the fray. It’s hard to recall exact details in a melee battle like that. It seems I was swinging my hammer every which way to lay low my enemies, and often I felt myself wounded, but either I would tend them myself or feel faithful Jonas heal me from the edge of the field.
“THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG!” I shouted to my brother. “THE MONK! GET THEIR MONK!”
With just a nod we both charged their monk. I reached him first and smashed him to the ground. Just as he was getting up, my Tyrole charged in, laying him out a second time. Then, just as he hit the ground, a fireball whizzed by my ear and finished the monk off. Looking back, I gave Vierna a wink. After the demise of their healer they didn’t last long. We routed them and went back to the middle to wait.
We didn’t wait long. This time they decided to attack in a frontal charge. Suddenly, I found myself under a barrage of enchantments and spells. I was just shaking off the effects of an enchantment, when I looked up just in time to see the warrior I had recently flattened stab his sword into my chest. I fell to the ground dead.
Afterwards, Jonas resurrected me and I ran for the guild thief, and we charged their Hall. Working like a well-oiled machine we gained access to their Hall, and slaughtered their outer guards. Black sent his army of undead against the Guild Lord, clerics, and newly spawned enemy guild. The distraction proved remarkable, as Vierna and Neon rained spell after deadly spell down on the heads of our enemies. All that remained where the clerics and the Guild Lord. Tyrole and I rushed the first cleric and pounded and pounded, and with the aid of Seabass’ arrows defeated him, and in the same manner, the second.
Looking around I saw only the Guild Lord standing, bodies piled around him in a truly morbid scene. Looking, I saw Vierna Seabass and Black, all dead. Looking to my right I watched as the Guild Lord fired and arrow into my brother’s heart, felling the great warrior.
“NO!” I screamed, lunging at the Guild Lord. After that everything became sort of foggy. I remember pounding and pounding until my arms would no longer lift the hammer. I vaguely recall chanting and fire raining down upon the Guild Lord. In the end it was my brother touching my arm that cooled my rage. It was over. Between my hammer, Neon’s fire, and Jonas’ divine intervention we’d beaten the powerful warlord.
And so we returned, victorious once again. We discussed the battle over glasses of ale, and then went back to our lives, each of us, constantly ready and waiting for that trumpet’s pure note, and the call to battle.