Unease surrounds Gelikdich, high priest of the Pentilian temples, and the burns on his face ache. A blasphemous book rains down upon the lands on the very day of the temples' monthly meeting. A text claiming to have killed a god? Gelikdich does not believe a word of it. The gods are an unconquerable force controlling the very fabric of reality. When the gods die, the world would surely end.

But now this dream, a dream Gelikdich has seen before occurs. A great white plain of pure energy stretches before him. A message from the gods? Worry start clouding Gelikdich's judgement. His believe in the gods threatens to falter! Then he calms himself and sits down. Neralis would them him all he needs to know. That must be the reason for Gelikdich's presence here. Or might it be Golaris, god of Gelikdich's region? Would a secondary god do such a thing?

"Gelikdich..." A harmonious voice says.

It echoes across the fields of white, completely relaxing Gelikdich. The great god Neralis had summoned him. He bows before the divine presence, which slowly forms before him. Its form resembles a tall, female Atracarian from the North. The brilliant crystal planted on every Atracarian's chest shines brighter than any real gem would. Captivated by the sight of the god he served, he could do nothing but gape in awe. Yet he should have wondered why the god of the Pentilians would appear Atracarian. Is he not proud of the race he created? The thought never occurred to him, so entranced was he by the mere presence of one so mighty.

"I fear Arthfael, the fool, is dead." Neralis says slowly, looking down on the short Pentilian. "The humans caused his downfall through treachery and deceit. He was too kind to them and now he lost everything."

"How could this have happened?" He says shocked, but still bowing.

"A god Arthfael regarded as a son murdered him by causing humanity to revolt." Neralis explains. "Something needs to be done, young one."

"What can I do, oh mighty goddess?" Gelikdich asks humbly.

"Start by assembling an armed force and march it towards Helara." Neralis says, moving closer to Gelikdich. "Purge the humans from our lands there. When that is done, order a fleet to be constructed. You be go to the king for this."

Neralis turns around and walks away again.

"Don't disappoint me..." Neralis says as the dream fades.

For two days the Pentilians didn't come to the ships. Whatever the Estaltas read in that book, must have terrified him. All the men on the boat can see of the Pentilians is a row of neatly placed houses. Three main roads seem to separate the groups of buildings. They can only guise that alleyways connect the roads together.

"How are the repairs?" Avon asks Morgan with a grim look on his face.

"We should be done in a day or two." Morgan responds. "I can't believe the other ship isn't here yet though... I know the captain of that ship. He is not one to get lost easily."

"They'll be fine, I'm sure." Avon says. "Some of my best men are on that boat, including one the cavalry. It bothers me how little progress we seem to make with the negotiations."

"I told, didn't I, general?" Morgan says, his distrust of the Pentilians apparent.

"Still, they don't seem as hostile to us now." Avon says. He still has hope in the completion of his mission.

"They fear to take hostile action, because they fear the wrath of the gods." Morgan says confidently. "They dare not engage in mindless violence on the soil of their own lands. They will kill us if they get the chance."

Avon laughs.

"I think that that's not too far off." He says. "What are they doing there?"

Avon points at a large group of Pentilians gathered near the main road. Further down the road, where Avon and Morgan can't see them, Estaltas is talking with another, older looking, Pentilian with burn marks decorating his face. Estaltas looks worried.

"Are you certain this is necessary?" Estaltas says, struggling to keep up with the other Pentilian. "I mean, they will be leaving in a few days."

The other Pentilian stops.

"Estaltas..." He says, pulling out a paper and shoving it into Estaltas' face. "Are you questioning this divine order written by the high priest himself? Does it not say that I, Yteral, general of the forces in Skuto, should march to Helara and perform this holy task?"

"Yes, but..." Estaltas starts.

"No, Estaltas!" Yteral yells. "The high priest has made a decision. A mere priest such as yourself cannot change this. Now get into the formation!"

A battalion of Pentilians marches from the gates of the town towards the two.

"Now, Estaltas!" Yteral says as he walks towards the front of the formation. "Forward!"

"That can't be good..." Morgan murmurs. As their ship is docked on the left they can hardly see into the main street, but the Pentilian gathered there are now clearing the way for something.

"I wonder..." Avon starts, but he stops as his eyes grow wide and he rushes to the stairs on the ship. He disappears below deck.

Morgan is left on deck, staring at the crowd of Pentilians. He looks around. The second ship has dropped its anchor away from the shore, too far away to be of help. Looking back at the crowd, Morgan can now see Estaltas now. He is walking next to an older Pentilian with a scar running across his right arm. Half his face is burned and the end of his beard is charred. The short creature carries a small sword, like an sergeant or captain in a human detachment would. The first row of Pentilian spearmen now comes into view.

Morgan grows pale at the sight of the armed forces. Their formation turns around the buildings at the end of the central road and faces the ship.

"Move!" Avon yells from below deck. "To the deck now!"

"Avon?" Morgan yells, worried. "Prepare to sail! Get us away from the coast now!"

"No!" Avon yells as he storms onto the deck. Some soldiers are following him. "We can't afford to leave the coast now. Signal the other ship, Morgan."

"You are mad, Avon." Morgan says, while signalling one of his men to raise a red flag. "I hope you know what you're doing."

More soldiers fill the deck slowly.

"Stop them!" Yteral yells. "We can't let them leave!"

Avon charges to the front of the ship and jumps over, onto the docks. The wood cracks loudly, but doesn't break. Strange... The thought crosses Avon's mind for just a moment. The two Pentilians still guarding the dock look up at the demon of a man, a demon clad in iron, armed with a large axe. One stumbles backwards as the other grabs his spear with both hands, ready to fight.

"Don't let him leave, soldier!" Yteral yells, running towards the docks.

The soldier doesn't stand a chance, however. He thrusts his spear forward, even aiming for a split in the iron plates. Avon hits the side of the tip with his plated left hand and brings his axe down on the unfortunate Pentilian. The Pentilian tries to shield himself with his other arm, but the axe relentlessly rents through his meat and crushes his bones. The Pentilian as the axe splits his skull.

Avon pulls his axe lose and turns to the charging battalion, readying himself. Other human soldiers now jump from the ship. Harrack reaches Avon first.

"Form a line!" Avon yells at his men.

Twenty men have for ed a line at the beginning of the dock as the Pentilian forces slam into them. Both armies are equipped with spears and shields. Both have officers with swords. Both use leather armour.

Harrack stands his ground on the rightmost side of the formation as a Pentilian jumps at him. Harrack braces himself. He brings his shield up and prepares his own attack. Just before the Pentilian lands on his shield, Harrack steps forward and slams his shield into the unfortunate Pentilian. The Pentilian is send flying past the docks and lands in the water.

Slowly more Pentilians join the line that has now formed. This leaves the left side of the dock weaker than the right. Avon moves himself out of the defensive line, since he would need a spear to properly join the fight. He takes Jalles back with him.

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"I want you to take twenty of our men and flank the enemies left side." Avon says.

"Yes, sir." Jalles says, before realising what the order truly meant. "Through the water, sir?"

"Yes, now go!" Avon yells back, hurrying back to his men.

The battle proceeds slowly, but the Pentilians seem to have the upper hand. Not only do they have the numbers to support prolonged combat, but every time one of the falls another will shift into his position almost instantly, often leading to the death of a human seeking an advantage in the gap. Neither of the force is giving any ground, but soon enough Avon will be out of men to hold the line with.

Harrack is still holding the rightmost side of the formation, but a cut along his chest marks a cut he got while trying to take advantage of a gap in the Pentilian line. Sweat shimmers on his forehead.

Jasmine took it upon herself the hold the left flank of their formation, but she too looks exhausted. Eight men form the front line with another sixty backing them up. That number has fallen to forty by now.

Avon closes his visor. He needs time. Time for Jalles to get into position in order to flank the enemy. He takes big steps, passing row after row of his troops. He takes a deep breath and charges forwards, pushing himself passed the men forming the front line. A spear breaks as it tries to push through Avon's armour plating. Avon crashes into the Pentilian breaking the Pentilian's ribs with the impact. Avon swings his axe around in a wide arc, until it stops in the skull of the Pentilian to his right. The pentilian is pushed back by the axe and crashes into the Pentilian behind him. Avon punches the confused Pentilian in front of him with an iron fist, while using his other hand to dislodge his axe from the other Pentilian's head. The Pentilian to Avon's left turns around, but is stabbed by the human formation. Another Pentilian to Avon's left lunges forward, accidentally stabbing Avon in the armpit. The leather supporting this joint is torn and even though the wound isn't deep, it hurts Avon greatly.

"This visor!" Avon yells angrily, bringing his arm down on the spear, breaking it. "I can't see  anything."

He grabs the point of the spear and pulls it out of his wound. He turns to the Pentilain and slams the tip into the Pentilian's face. Blood now decorates Avon's armour. The Pentilian forces fall into disarray as their formation begins to break.

"Move up!" Yteral yells, charging to the front of the line. "Fill the gap!"

The Pentilian formation is rapidly restored. An old Pentilian with a burned face now stands before Avon. He charges forward, ducking under Avon's axe as it arc towards him. He steps forwards and stabs Avon's chest. The spear shatter on the plates.

"What?" The Pentilian stutters.

Avon steps closer to the Pentilian, trying to grab his by the neck. The Pentilian quickly jumps backwards, narrowly avoiding his demise. He bends down to grab a spear lying on the ground there. Avon steps in closer, bringing down his axe as fast and hard as he can, but the Pentilian dodges it again. Again the Pentilian steps forward to stab Avon, but this time he aims for Avon's waist. The spear pierces the leather and Avon yells in pain. He tries to punch the small creature, but it darts back to a save distance again.

Avon is in trouble now. Both the wounds he sustained limit his efficiency in combat. Avon stops and waits for an opening. The Pentilian formation has closed behind him now, but none of them have thought of stabbing him in his back yet.

"You're done, demon!" The burned Pentilian laughs. "Just know it was general Yteral that beat you."

Again Yteral darts forward, lunging his spear at on of the joints of Avon's legs. Avon steps back and brings his axe down on Yteral's spear, breaking it in half. Yteral drops the spear before Avon hits it and draws his sword. He cuts the other side of Avon's waist. His back is now facing the Pentilian front line.

Avon is panting now as he tries to find a way out of this situation. No options come to him. All he can do is stand and wait for an opening. Looking in the Pentilian's eyes he can see years of experience in combat. The Pentilian knows exactly what he is thinking. Avon nods at Yteral and steps forwards, lifting his axe for an attack. The Pentilian looks slightly surprised and gets ready for his counter attack. Before Yteral can make a move, the Pentilian behind him stumbles backwards and falls into him, knocking him off balance. He tries to roll out of the way of Avon's axe, but he soon realises the axe is never coming down on him. His ribs crack as the plated foot of Avon kicks him in the chest. Yteral coughs blood as a ribs pierces his lungs.

"At least my soldiers can think up their own strategies." Avon says, bringing the axe down on Yteral's neck. Shock and confusion fill the features on the disembodied head. Avon looks back at Jasmine nodding at her a second time now, to thank her for pushing the Pentilian. She is already too busy with the fight to notice him.

The Pentilians moving around Avon freeze. There leader died? Panic fills there minds and their advance stops. Jasmine and the soldiers around her break through the Pentilian line and join Avon.

"Advance!" Avon yells, charging into the cowering Pentilians. His wounds hurt, but he could deal with this pain for now. He had faced much worse.

The Pentilians are losing ground rapidly. Confused and demoralised they begin their retreat. Even while they still outnumber the humans, their morale is shattered.

"Back in line!" A voice booms across the field.

Everyone is knocked of their feet by the sheer force of the order. Estaltas steps forward. "Reform the line!" He yells again, normally now. "We have the advantage here! Face them!"

Estaltas organises some Pentilians into a secondary line. Other soon join around them.

"They still regroup even when they were broken before?" Avon says. "These Pentilians really are something..."

The two lines collide again, but now the Pentilians form a solid line. Avon and his men are quickly pushed back onto the docks.

Only ten men hold the line now. Another five, including Harrack, have been completely separated.

Avon hacks his way through Pentilian after Pentilian, but for every fallen Pentilian, another appears in his place. The human line holds, however, and, with Avon at it's centre, it seems unbeatable. Then a rock impacts Avon's chest plate and send him flying.

Estaltas stands at the back of his line with another two rocks in his hands. With the enemy champion defeated, this battle should last long...

A sword hacks down the Pentilian next to him. He looks up in shock to find a soaking him thrust a spear deep into his chest. He sputters and gurgles for a few seconds, before lying still.

Jalles and his men have finally gotten in the enemies rear. Twenty fresh human soldiers charge the Pentilian flank.

"Let's finish this!" Jalles yells, leading the charge.

Avon looks up. His head is spinning and a great crack runs through his plating. A dent marks the spot where the rick had hit him. Jasmine and three others are fighting a losing battle against too many. In the water, Harrack is making his last stand as he hacks and slashes around him. He needed to help them. He tries to move, but he can't. He is weakened and, with his armour bend this way, he can't move without shredding his chest. Hopelessly he looks as his forces slowly fall.

A wave of panic goes through the Pentilian ranks. At the back of their lines many are breaking formation. Again they begin their retreat. Avon smiles. Jalles saved them. With this realisation, he faints.