The Crimson Dawn (part 2) - Found Fragments X

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The Crimson Dawn (part 2)

Found Fragments - Part X

Acidrik Gutsplitter

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There was a warrior, a single, enormous warrior waring black armour approaching them now. He came alone, and the Brakmarians parted to let him pass. He roared and the BOntarians around him crumpled and fell to the ground. Angered at seeing his knights recoil like this, Menalt urged them to fight. He raised his spear above his head and hurled himself into the attack. Pouchecot shouted at him to wait but the centaurs were already on their way to attack the first enemy lines. The collision was terrible, metal clashed agains metal, the horns of war were blown and the drums beaten loudly. Cutting and thrusting, Menalt forced his way through towards the Brakmarian war chief. If he fell, victory would be Bonta's! Menalt could see the warrior fighting. With each of his blows, a knight collapsed, his armour slashed open by the black sword. The tip os his blade curved and circled smoothly through the air; it was as though two dark wings were whipping to and fro around him. The black warrior had the same intention as Menalt.

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"I am Menalt, commander of the Order of the Valiant Heart, Protector of Martalo! Whoever you are, yours hours are numbered!" shouted Menalt over the commotion. Battle was raging all around them. Menalt had taken his armour off - far from protecting him, it was hindering his movements before his fearsome adversary. "I'm going to take back your ill-gotten gains, centaur! Pray to your god, that he open the gates to the kingdome of the dead for you and for your knights! And tell him that Hyrkul will bring Bonta down today!" Streams of black smoke were billowing from his helmet. Menalt, who was seeing him up close for the first time, was stunned to see that his enemy was able to use black fire as a weapon. "Sacrilege!" he exclaimed. "You're sullying the fire of Ouronigride and you will be cursed for it!"

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"My name is Hyrkul and it'll follow you into the other world, centaur!" screamd the other, and both of them rushed forward to strike. In less than a second, everything was over. Menalt brandished his spear, whose point glowed with white fire. He lunged forward, aiming at the hollow of the throat where the plates of the black armour were spaced out enough for his blow to be lethal. But the warrior dodged and the spear jabbed uselessly into thte darkness. Hyrkul's wide, shadowy wings swirled to lash and blind the centaur. Before the centaur could launch a second attack, Hyrkul grabbed his spear in one hand, and his throat in the other. They both bellowed, one in rage and the other in pain. A blaze of lightning sprung from the black helmet, hitting Menalt in the face for long seconds. Then the warrior pushed the stunned and twitching centaur back to deal him the deathblow. He twirled his sword; the blade spun with a whistling sound and cut swiftly downwards. Menalt dropped noiselessly into the dust.

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The warrior kept on spinning his sword and bellowing. An intense burst of fire shot from the back of his throat and set his blade alight. THe flame caught and spread, growing ever wider and more dangerous. The knights had seen their chief fall and had started to retreat in horror. Then, a dragon of black lightning materialised from the end of Hyrkul's sword. The beast reared up to its full height, towering over them all, and then dove downwards through the Bontarian troops, who caught fire instantly. Knights fell one after the other, and the other Bontarian warriors were blown away by the explosion. Pouchecot only survived thanks to his magic. He shot his roots deep down into the earth, like a hundread-year-old tree. The battlefield was strewn with the cracked armour of fallen knights. A freezing rain started to pour down. The Brakmarian troops started to make their way towards Bonta. Hyrkul turned to face the gigantic tree that Pouchecot had become. His transformation protected him from danger, but prevented him from moving or speaking. The black giant roared with spine-chilling laughter.

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"I shall carve your coffin in your own wood, Pouchecot! But first... I want to see Jiva's head hanging in your branches!" He spat and strode away to join his army. The fortified walls of Bonta stood out in the distance, as pale as chalk.

The knights of the Order of the Valiant Heart had all perished...

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It seemed to the defenders of Bonta that day was never going to break. Was this night the las they would ever live to see? Jiva was not the only one staring up at the sky, trying to penetrate the mysteries of the curse bearing down upon them. Raval, the protector of Septangel, had climbed up the Sidimote hills to observe the battlefield and the study the oppressive, jinxed darkness. Five hours! The sun should have been out for five hours already! These hours were precious to him, the protectors of Septangel. Five hours had been stolen from the month he was supposed to protect... he would have to explain this to Xelor!

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The black warrior was extremely powerful. Exterminating a hundred knights was one thing. Annihilating Menalt was another. But rendering Pouchecot powerless... Was there no limit to the warrior's power?

"If I try to stand between him and Bonta to reclaim my stolen hours, I risk being killed... As for Bonta, my dear Jiva, you're dead meat... But if Bonta falls, this night might last for eternity... and that will be the end of Septangel." Raval could not bear to imagine such a world. He went down to the battlefield. The goblins that had survived the battle were forming a hobbling rear guard. There, amidst gobling corpses and empty armour, Raval had the idea that was to save Septangel. The same man who strove to suck the life out of every plant and flower as soon as Frauguctor's back was turned was about to breathe life back into the soulds of the dead knights. He called upon his powers....

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At his command, the ghosts of the knights of the Order of the Valiant Heart rose. Their discarded armour hit the ground with metallic thuds. Burnt, flayed and cut, they all bore gaping wounds. Raval walked through the ranks in silence, then pointed towards the Brakmarian army. Hyrkul's troops had reachd the gates of Bonta. Any minute now, they were going to give way to the Trool's steady hammering. Militia men, gathered by Jiva, had formed a wall of armour. But goblins were already trying to sneak in through the gaps in the door, which were widening with each passing second. Hyrkul had put his sword back into its sheath and was dealing blows around him with his mace. All of sudden, he paused mid-motion, and turned back as though someone had called out to him...

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Cries of distress were cmoing from the back. The huge warrior, taken aback, was listening carefully. Iwas not the cries of fear that worried him. He had cast his eyes to the south. And there he saw his troops, unable to cope with the knights of the Order - the very same knights he had just killed with his black lightning! A white tide rolled slowly over the Brakmarians. Just then, Bonta's horns rang out. Jiva had openen up the doors and the militia was moving forward to take on the Brakmarian troops, taking back the ground that had been conquered, metre by metre.

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Hyrkul had not foreseen such a reversal of roles. The Brakmarian troops found themselves caught in a stranglehold. He watched as the ghostly knights, numb to blows, hacked his army to pieces. The confusion was outhright. His captain was beating a retreat. Goblings and Chafers tried to flee but were killed on the spot by ghost knights. He struggled to extricate himself from the fray, and, knowing the battle was lost, Hyrkul glanced at Bonta one last time while so close to it, before fleeing towards the Treechnid Forest. He may not have been victorious but now he knew for sure that Bonta did not have any Dofus. Jiva and Pouchecot would not have hesitated to brandish them at the battle's most critical moment, to show their power and scare the Brakmarian troops away... This simple detail was worth all the losses the troops of Brakmar had borne.... Hyrkul disappeared into the dark forest.

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A cry of victory went up around Bonta. The survivors could finally see daybreak. Ravl climbed back up the Simidote hills to observe Brakmar's retreat. The dawn was crimson. This colour was to give the battle chich went down in History its name. "The Crimson Dawn" was the first battle in which Bonta and BRakmar had confronted one another, and one of the bloodiest in that period that became known as "the war of the cities".