The stench of Blood was thick in the air, a heavy scent, melding with the dense smoke of the burning city. She stood on the top of the central pyramid, glaring at the collapse of her life's work. Once she'd deposed of her father, she'd assumed that all would be easier, but... The Bannor had a habit of making life difficult for all.
She glanced downards. A heavily armored Orc sprinted up the steps and knelt before her.
“My lady, the wards have fallen, and the walls will be down soon after. The Amurite Mages are too powerful for our own. Our archer manage to pick a few off, but they keep coming.”
“And as soon as the walls are down, the Bannor and Hippus will be marching through the city.” she muttered to herself.
“Your orders, my lady?”
“Light the fires.” She said, softly.
“My Lady?” her lieutenant asked.
“Yes, Light the Fires.” She repeated “I will not have Jarv, Crown Jewel of Bhall, fall into the hands of the Sabellites.”
“So, this is how it ends?”
“Yes, But what and end! We will fight to the very end. They could only destroy us by outnumbering us a hundred to one, by treachery.”
“It was an Honor to serve under you, Lady Ember.”
“And I am proud to have served with you, Lorkus Halfbeard.”
Together, The heavily armed Orc champion, grasping a heavy battle axe, and the Lady, around whose hands an aureola of flames burned, descended the steps, to join the battle that was nearing the square at the center base of the pyramid. Drawing her sword, she raised it high.
"To me, Clan of Ember! To me Proud Orcs! Here, we will Stand, here we will show the Humans what we are made of. Here, we MAKE OUR GODDESS PROUD"
A legion of orcish spearmen formed a square around her. Behind her fluttered in the wind the Banners of the Clan, proud flames burning in the darkness. A column of Hippus knights rode into the square, breaking through the last defenses, lowering their lances they charged at the Phalanx of Orcs. Behind them poured in a number of Bannor footmen and the infamous Sheild of Klorin, magics blazing and swords flashing.
Then Chaos.
Noise and sight combining into an incomprehensible whirl, but little by little, the Orcs were pushed back, one brave orc hero dying after another. With a Shock, she realized Lorkus was not longer next to her, but was in-fact lying prone back in the center of the square. With a shock of rage she roared, Feeling her connection to Bhall channel fire into the square. A number of enemy soldiers as well as the of surviving orc champions were incinerated in seconds.
She took a deep breath, and fell to her knees, crying in rage and despair, for already more of the enemy were pouring into the square. And then she felt a prick at the base of her neck, and collapsed. Through the haze she could make out the face of Evavi Gahun, her must trusted advisor – and her most useful assassin.
“Forgive me, my lady, but the Bannor would have killed you. Sleep, and you will be safe. I watch over you, and when you wake, we will meet with someone who can save us and the orcs.” And in that moment, she could see the shape of her goddess Bhall inhabiting that of her servant. She let herself fade, knowing she was in safe hands. The darkness closed over her as she closed her eyes gratefully.
With a Gasp, Lady Embra Klorin woke. She took a moment to place herself. She was in a small room, lit only by a fluttering fire and the shine of the Fadeing winter sun through the slit that served as a window. The Library. That's where she was. She was reading about the history of the Empire, remembering the history of the house.
Glancing down at the ancient tome she had fallen asleep reading, she gasped, for there on the page was an ancient engraving of a woman with wings and hair of flame, holding in her hand a sword engraved with a dialect from Old Errovus itself.
“You are the Ember from which my Flame shall spring again. You are the purging flame, sent to burn away corruption. You are the mouth through which my word is heard.”