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Vargo: Imperial Survey History Unexpected Ally At noon on the first of March, 5006, with swamp on their left flank and low hills on their right, the defenders of Port Lewellyn met Rees Catalfan's horde. Withering fire scythed through the ranks of the undead, felling hundreds like overripe wheat with the first volley, hundreds more with the second. Yet onward they came. As before, the battle devolved into a vicious melee. Hour after hour the two sides fought on, sweat and blood flowing freely to soak the ground underfoot. As twilight descended, Catalfan again worked his summoning. As before, demons walked Vargo's soil, hurling themselves at the human soldiers to rend soft flesh with razor sharp claws and teeth. Outnumbered and overwhelmed, Lewellyn's defenders were on the brink of defeat. Then, just as all seemed lost, shadows stirred out in the darkness at the edge of the battlefield. Pale figures emerged from the night to fall upon the unholy host, slashing at demon and husk alike with keen, alien blades as inhuman battle cries ululated above the grunts and moans of the combatants. The newcomers were Ukari. Where they came from, and what compelled them to fight alongside humans, no one knew, then or now. Yet none can deny that the Ukari staved off certain defeat with their timely arrival that night. The Ukar warriors moved among the demons with uncanny grace, almost dancing as they dodged their claws and teeth to strike back with gleaming Kraxi, their accuracy deadly. Still, the Ukari were mere flesh and blood, as mortal as the humans they saved, and when the demons found their mark, the Ukari also died. As the dark horde staggered under the assault of this unexpected foe, fear of defeat apparently struck Catalfan’s heart for the first time. Gathering his acolytes, he undertook one last summoning, the most powerful of them all. Uttering incantations in a gutteral tongue older than the Annunaki, Catalfan called forth Yaglayelos the Render, Servant of Focused Pain. Once a lesser demon, the power of this beast had been enhanced by the dark magicks of the Children of the Void during the ritual of the eclipse six years earlier. A Beacon in the Night With a deep-throated roar, the demon Yaglayelos took form from the night itself, a writhing, vaguely reptilian shape cloaked in shifting darkness. Fear swept anew through the ranks of the defenders as this roar echoed up and down the valley, turning the blood to icewater in their veins. Viscount Michael watched in helpless horror as the great beast reached forth to fell a dozen of his soldiers with one sweep of its clawed hand. What hope did the city's defenders have of standing against the likes of this? Calling upon the Pancreator's name, a platoon of Brother Battle hurled themselves at Yaglayelos, hewing at the beast with mighty swings of their broadswords. For a few moments they kept the demon occupied, driving it back with the sheer ferocity of their assault, but one by one the Brothers fell before its claws, martyrs to what now seemed a lost cause. The Ukari, those that were still alive, charged at Yaglayelos in the Brother Battles’ wake, singing their death chants as they fought and died, their blood mingling with that of the fallen monks. Despair seized the hearts of the surviving defenders as they beheld the countenance of death incarnate. Just then, a rumble like thunder sounded in the dark heavens overhead, and the flare of dropthrusters lit the night. A Republic dropship descended from the sky to land hard, crushing dozens of undead warriors beneath it. It bore the crimson markings of the Red Talon Fleet. Its boarding hatch opened to disgorge a platoon of knights into the fray. They were the Companions of the Lantern, and Duke Alvaro was at their head. The Companions charged into the enemy's ranks, blades swinging as they fought their way toward Rees Catalfan himself. In their midst was a slight figure wearing the pale robes of an Amalthean, clutching a bundle tightly to her chest. To this day her name is not known. The Companions shielded the priestess and her precious cargo with their own bodies as they drove on through the husks toward their goal. Their advance only slowed as they met Catalfan's personal guard, the dreaded Shadow Knights wielding their cruel black blades. The Light Triumphant A dozen Companions fell as they hacked their way through the Shadow Knights, but they succeeded in breaking through the circle and reaching Rees Catalfan with their Amalthean charge. Duke Alvaro jerked his saber from the corpse of a fallen Shadow Knight and stepped forward to call Catalfan out, his blade dripping blood. Recoiling in fear from the prospect of death on that blade, the antinomist called to Yaglayelos for aid. Heeding the call of he who summoned it, the demon turned and strode toward the confrontation. At that point, according to witnesses close enough to see, the Amalthean stepped forward and removed the wrappings from the object she carried, then raised it overhead. In her hands she held the Lantern of Sainte Vargo, glowing steadily in the night. For the first time since his summoning, Yaglayelos seemed to hesitate. Catalfan lifted his hands and began to chant again. Tendrils of darkness extended from his fingertips, reaching for the priestess. Duke Alvaro raised his saber and charged into their path. Just then, in a firm voice that echoed across the battlefield, the priestess called out these words: "Dixitque Pancreator 'fiat lux' et facta est lux!" Suddenly there was a flash of light, as if the sun had risen again, so intense it briefly blinded all who were watching. Yaglayelos was heard to scream in rage and agony, a piercing cry of ageless hate denied once again. There was a massive thunderclap that threatened to leave everyone deaf as well as blind, and the very earth shook underfoot as if the world itself was tearing apart. As the spots slowly cleared from everyone's vision, they beheld what could only be described as a miracle. The demon Yaglayelos, Rees Catalfan, the Shadow Knights, and several hundred undead troops were all gone. They had simply disappeared as if swallowed up by the earth. The ground they had occupied was now empty, unblemished. Unfortunately, Duke Alvaro of the Hazat, the unnamed Amalthean Priestess who had carried the Holy Lantern, and the surviving Companions of the Lantern had vanished with them. Grim Victory The remains of the dark horde were left in disarray, deprived of leadership with the removal of Catalfan and his acolytes, and the occult power they had wielded to hold the army of darkness together. The husks, bereft of guidance, shambled around aimlessly, attacking any of the living who came near. As for the demons, they had all been banished back to Gehenna, including those that had possessed Vargens--who were now left confused and frightened, uncertain of where they were or how they had arrived there. Port Lewellyn's defenders were likewise stunned by this sudden turn of events, but Viscount Michael had enough presence of mind to order them to put down the husks before they got out of hand. It was a gruesome task, lasting throughout the night. By the time that dawn blushed the horizon, the battlefield was littered with rotting corpses. Yet only the living were left walking. The dispossessed Vargens were gathered together and provided with blankets and food from among the soldiers’ own rations. The wounded and the refugees alike were transported across the river into Port Lewellyn as the army began the grim task of burying the dead where they had fallen. A thorough search was made of the place where the Lantern was last seen, but there was no sign of it, the Companions who had safeguarded the priestess who carried it, or Duke Alvaro. Curiously, the bare patch of grass where the miracle occurred was vibrant and green, and spring wildflowers were blooming--even as winter still gripped the land. As Viscount Michael Hawkwood surveyed the battlefield, watching his battered troops make their way toward Queen Maeve’s Bridge, he could not help but ponder the costly victory they had just won. Port Lewellyn had been saved, and the Darkness had been defeated, for now. Yet the VDF had suffered hundreds of casualties, many of its tanks were wrecked, and the Protector had fallen in battle. What's more, the Lantern of Sainte Vargo, missing for centuries until rediscovered a few years ago, had apparently been lost once again. 6 |