Bloody war

Odsier Plains

Great swats of Odsier spearmen crashed into the Ostiarium line and were stopped dead. Great swords gutted their horses. Nimble infantry cut the throats of the fallen in the dust.

At other points along the line some Odsier natives seeing the folly of their comrades rode parallel to the Helian ranks, loosing arrows after arrows, picking targets of opportunity, felling warhorses to deny their adversary their superior mounts.

If Sir Zane's army had been the only only the tribe numbers would eventually tell but they weren't alone.

From the left came a might roar as the Odonine led by Koshnem Gloomwilder, Warchieftan of Fang drove his warbands into the flanks of the reeling tribesmen. Their war cry suddenly getting louder than the foreign song to their God of War.

The Odonine had no such god. But they had Koshnem, who stalked the battlefield like day like a reaver of old. Battle made flesh. Those who survived this day and fought near their leader would later recall the pounding chest declarations, the taunting of his enemies, how he lead from the front, how he struck down the enemy like they were no more than weed. How every blade and arrow shied from the mercurial titan and how he stopped blow after blow that fell lesser men. No, the Odonine had no God of War but if they ever did, one was born that day.

Panicked horsemen ran or tried to turn to face the Odonine onslaught. Battle scared warbands swept through the Plains and through the tribes, a howling rush of swords, axes and painted faces, a sea of rage and brutality. Hundreds of wounded were cut down, men and beast crushed under the sudden strike.

The Helians watched, in wonder, admiration and some in relief, that these barbarians were allies and not their foes. At least not today. Vastad Song rose once again... The flanking of the enemy could be the wounding blow needed to scattered the tribes.

But then, as though stepping out of the dusty Plains, their Bonecasters revealed themselves....