Hasnian's Ildra

The flames set in the valley as they reached the hilltop. A smoked tint added to the already faded sky, with only a glimpse of starlight. A twice broken leaderless people they were. The stirring rabble of orks glared up at them, yet did not move. They heard an unknown cry from the village, but it was quickly silenced. In the midst of it all, a shadowy vibration could be felt as if the land was shattering. Brought to their knees, they were told to submit or they would cease. A group of them shouted to run for the cover of the forest, but when they reached it, they realized that the majority still stood on the hill. Now nothing could move them.

As they disappeared into the dense forest, the drums of the ork legion scurrying up the hill could be felt. They went and went, but every now or so their company would narrow. Some took notice, yet most had already anticipated this. However many they would see to be left with, they would be gratified to be more than a single soul. They crippled and crawled through the dense forest, like the shadows stalking them. They traveled for weeks and the roaring of the orks slowly faded. Light could not creep through the thickness of the leaves, and so they gradually lost track of night and day.

At last they reached moonlight. Lush grassy hills, and at its core, a river. As they trudged across this pristine untouched landscape, the many horses, cows and various other creatures came to greet these strange newcomers. While a warm welcome was given by the animals, the passing of their first wintry season led to a fine harvest with great promise. New granaries rose to house the stock, yet most of it was still scattered in barrels around the village. Although their numbers were still few, their population grew with haste. Still they mourned over their unforsaken past, yet their fate was yet to play out.

Awakened by a rain of arrows, the riverfolk took to blades and shields, scuddling through mud and mush. Chaos ruptured at the eastern barricade. Barrels flew and turrets tumbled. Legions of orks charged them. The men took to the town center. Those who tripped along the way, staggered to get back on their feet, only to be met by a cleaver. The few who found their way, took to what they could find. The arrangement of poles and a few spears formed a circle. Shields, planks and plates were passed around to those furthest out. The orks were now just a few steps away. People searched for their courage. The first blows to the shields were the worst, sending most sliding through the mud. Their blockade took form once again, the shaking of shields and blades increasing. The orks swung aggressively at the shields only to be stung by a spear before even hitting them. Their coordination was unseen elsewhere. Impaled orks piled up around the perimeter burying others below. But their arms soon grew tired.

The sun went twice up and down until finally they could take no more. No further could they go. The first took his fall and the rest quickly followed, like a forest fire winding its way. Some had managed to slip away unnoticed, however. When all hope had faded, the few swimmers left had leaped into the river. They swam upstream, only just raising their head once the village was out of sight. These folk disappeared into the forest, their fate not yet decided. But it would be.

While this settlement no longer stood, their ways left an ever-lasting mark on the area. Gorgeous fields waiting to be harvested once again. The river longing to be tamed anew. Animals seeking shelter and peace.