A draught of soothing wind hits the new batch of cult enforcers the moment they step through the swirling portal.
The fresh air and lively ambience were a stark contrast to the dingy halls of the cult.
On the distant horizon the sun rose, shining its nourishing light onto the land below.
They steel their resolve, not letting the allure of the land fool them, not even for a moment.
"Brethren." A commander amongst the thirty calls, his fist raised high to call the march to a halt.
"A distress signal has been fired, our brothers are in great peril!"
He asserts, with a slight tremor of his lips.
He pulls his trembling fingers out of view, mustering composure.
"We march!"
He commands, his gaze swiping through his junior enforcers.
A subtle nod is shared with one of them-- a cohort of four silently breaking off from the entourage.
"We'll take care of the rogue problem," the lead captain assures the commander.
"Act with caution, the kid is crafty." The commander advises, giving them a last glance before marching on.
The sounds of marching boots recede as the cohort makes distance between them and the marching entourage, their cloaks fluttering as they disappeared into the thick foliage, tracking a red dot within the jade tablets in hand.
****
Clang!
Skreech!
A battle of the ages was unfolding deep into the trial lands, the weary enforcers were engaged in an uphill battle against a horde of Jadestinger scorpions.
The chitinous monstrosities flung out flurries of attacks by the second, sending the defending enforcers reeling after every barrage.
Their muscles wailed in protest, stumbling under their unsure footing as their boots sink into the loose and sandy terrain.
At this rate, a loss was assured.
At this point, their minds couldn't even fathom the possibility of victory under the perilous situation they'd found themselves in.
A daunting battle indeed, most of them were now fought not for survival but to die honourably, all self-preservation instincts were thrown out of the window.
"Shields!"
A wall of hand-held shields coupled with shimmering blue barriers rise at the command of the Captain.
Boom!
The blow connects, sending fragments of steel and arcana whizzing as they cut through the air.
As for the enforcers?
Reduced to a sorry state.
Their orifices bled, smudges of scarlet trickling down their ears, mouth and nostrils.
They stumble around, ears ringing, their bodies failing to hold back the rushing tide.
Green chitinous carapaces carpet the terrain-- the wriggling tide of scorpions closing in, their limbs twitching as if engaged in ritualistic and macabre dance.
Shik!
Arrgh!
A stinger skewers an enforcer-- bringing an end to his pitiful existence.
With that one loss, pressure mounts manifold, the remaining enforcers buckling under the barrage.
The peril didn't end there,
Viscous venom spewed from the raised stingers-- its goey viscosity enabling it to cling to armour and flesh alike, sizzling as they eat through.
"All hail, lord Malakath!"
An enforcer shouts, urging his arcana into a chaotic frenzy.
Boom!
His body detonates, sending fragments of bone and flesh whistling as they cut through the air, forming a circle of pure devastation.
Talk about going out with a bang,
This slows the tide-- only for a split second before they surge back.
Resigned to their fates, the others beckon their arcana-- urging it past the chaotic threshold, only clinging to control the instability and cause the most damage they could.
But before their bodies erupt in self-detonating bangs,
Foosh!
Fooosh!
Fooooshhh!
Green balls of fire cut through the air, landing amidst the tide.
Skreech!
The jadestinger scorpions recoil from the emerald flames--their chitinous carapace giving way under its immolating and corrosive fury.
Reinforcements have arrived!
And just at the nick of time!
The mounting pressure significantly lowers as the barrage of arcane spells fall onto the beast tide, reaping souls upon souls.
This sudden attack offers reprieve to the enforcers who had started giving up--reigniting their morale.
The battle was far from over, despite the formidable show of force.
It takes the tide just moment to acclimatize to fighting on two fronts-- treacherous masters of adaptation.
Only then did the jadestinger losses dropped-- the horde holding strong and unrelenting against the barrage of their human adversaries.
Green fog blankets the battlefield, noxious fumes released when the emerald burned the scorpion poison-- all of it combining to form a lethal concoction.
Each side were now fighting hard to gain the upper hand and maintain the momentum, though the odds favoured the human side.
Shing!
Clang!
An enforcer strikes, aiming to decapitate his foe only for a pincer to block his slash.
The chaotic battlefield muffles as the two lock eyes-- all the background noise fading under their focused states.
Huaaah!
The enforcer exhales, his longsword thrusting forward.
Clang!
The beast parries with its left pincer, coming up with a counterattack on the spot as its right pincer clamps close with a loud clack-- missing the enforcers neck by a hair's breadth.
The enforcer gulps at the close call, reeling from the near decapitation-- if not for his quick reaction.
The duo warily eyed each other, man against beast-- biding their time, waiting for the opponent to falter, aiming to capitalize on any mistakes.
Skreech!
The beast howls, a blade jutting from its head-- an enforcer had come to the rescue!
That's what you get when you focus on one enemy in a chaotic battlefield, the slumping scorpion serves as a grave example.
The lesson of always keeping your head on the swivel learnt the hard way.
With the mounting advantage favouring the enforcers, victory is assured.
Even if by a landslide-- they just needed to hold on to the momentum, not make a major screw up and victory would be theirs.
Even if more lives would be lost as a cost of attaining and firmly holding on to it.
"Press on!"
The commander shouts, capitalizing on the buckling defence of the beasts.
His leg firmly pivots--arms swinging a great axe.
An arc of destruction tears open a retreating scorpion in half-- the two halves parting to the side and thrashing within its deathly throes.
With the imminent loss, the scorpions retreat, aiming to flee from the humans who cut down their kindred as if the reaper incarnate.
"Don't let them escape!" the commander shouts, rushing towards the retreating beasts.
"Kill them all!"
The battle tempo rises to a crescendo, a tide of incensed humans cutting down scorpions like there was no tomorrow.
Gradually, the battlefield comes to a silent halt, save for an occasional hacking of stragglers by the enforcers.
The injured are carried to the makeshift infirmary-- some succumbing to their grievous battle wounds.
Serving as collateral to their holy battle.
Which battle lacked losses?
Not one!
Loss is a fundamental yet painful result of violence and war.
"They will be welcomed to our lord's kingdom," a random enforcer comments, "They died brave."
Victory was theirs, but at what cost?