u/TandrDregn

(Copy-pasted from a Word document, did my best to fix any formatting issues, first time doing this)

*Thirteen years. Thirteen years has the war with the Telvari been going on. And not once has it come close to looking over. Their forces are endless, made up of slave-warriors and conscripts to fill the ranks and exhaust our men. Then, the soldiers themselves arrive. The slaves are in thousands, wearing cheap iron armor and wielding mostly axes, messersor spears. They are of many kinds. Orc, goblin, even minotaurs, and of course, any humans they do not kill, too. But the soldiers? All Telvari, all elves. And they are terrifying. Though as strong as an average man at best, it is not physical power that makes them deadly. Their cat-like reflexes, sharp senses, inhuman agility... they do not carry shields. Why block blows when you can simply evade them, step around blades, weave between arrows? Their warriors are elite, the older the deadlier. They do not age like you or me. I’m old, slower than I was fifty years ago. The older an elf is, the more powerful they become. Faster, hardier, more accurate. It makes no sense to me, but that’s how it is. And these are the foes that I and others will meet in the battle to come.*

*Selaron’s Hold. An old fort, it’s strongest defense the great hill it stands on. For miles around, not a tree in sight, no forests to hide armies in. And to make it to the fort itself is to march up this hill, a long trek. It is how we knew well in advance the Telvari had come for us here. This was most certainly a good thing, as their slave soldiers would be tired by the time they reach us.* “CAPTAIN! We spotted the elves! They’re coming!” *Shouted Sirya, one of the few knights among our small force. Our orders were simple: hold this damn hill until Lord-Paladin Thanoril Bruk arrives with reinforcements. We were few. Me, Sirya and another 18 knights. Around 50 normal foot soldiers. And the 200 or so peasants of the local militia, whose able-bodied men have joined to defend the fort while the women, children and elderly hide in the dungeon.* “Patience, Sirya. They have been coming for days. We knew well in advance. Worrying now will only stress you out. They are coming. Nothing we can do about it except wait. And meet them with our steel when they arrive.” *I saw the look in her eyes. Only recently knighted, the young woman had been a squire in Reignhold, the Vaanrian capital. She was clever, and talented, but I thought it cruel that her first assignment as a true knight was this. She had never seen real battle before... yet here she was now, preparing to fight a battle that will make or break her. Yet again, she nervously adjusted her scabbard, pacing back and forth.* “Maybe, sir Lian, but when they DO get here... we need to be prepared!” “Do you have your armor, Sirya?” “Yes.” “Your sword and shield?” “Yes.” “Your mace and dagger as backup weapons?” “Yes.” “Then you are as prepared as you can be. Your impatient worries will only hinder you when the battle begins, kid. Pull yourself together. Worrying won’t make them take it easy on you.” “Sir Lian... how are you so calm?” *The young knight’s voice, still laden with worry, was full of genuine curiosity.* “Well Sirya, way I see it, when they get here, we fight. And then we live or wedie. The outcome is in the hands of the gods, kid. Us mortals can’t affect it. So why worry about it? Can you stop rain?” “No...” “Can you stop time?” “No.” “Exactly, kid. You can’tstop fate. All you can do is your best as you march towards it. So, that’s why I’m calm. Because at the end of the battle, whether alive or dead, I will have done my best.” *I spoke with a sure voice, as I myself had full belief in my words. But to convince the young woman, I felt it necessary to further exaggerate my conviction, if only to strengthen hers. My hand rested limply on the haft of my warhammer, as I shook my head.* “That’s why I’m calm, kid. Whatever fate may come, I’ll be able to face it knowing I did what I could.” *I saw the young knight’s face loosen just a little, though her eyes still showed great fear. I could not blame her for that. This was her first battle, as I mentioned earlier.* “But... sir Lian, what if I... what if I don’t want to die? I’ve only turned 20 last month... there is so much I’ve yet to see, to experience. If I die today... I will never do most of what I should, as both a knight and a woman.” *Ah, that was her fear. I understood better now. She was not just youngest among the knights, but of our entire defense force aside from a few older teens in the militia who refused to sit still while their fathers fought. She wasn’t afraid of death. She was afraid of not experiencing life.* “Well, young Sirya... fight well, and pick your battles. If you see an elf among the enemy, don’t be ashamed to retreat from him, let one of the older knights face him. None here will judge you, kid.” *I looked around at the knights and soldiers alike. Most of them nodded, the ones that did not did indeed do so when I glared at them. A horn sounded. The enemy had begun making their way up the hill. At best, we had two hours before they were at our door – it WAS a large hill, thank the gods – and we have to fight.* “Take this time to prepare, and to steelyour wills, lads – and Sirya – because the enemy will not care if you’re not feeling up for it. Today, we see what fate has in store for us. Gods be with us, and if not, we have steel and each other. Let the knife-ears come. We need only hold this fort until Lord Bruk arrives with the cavalry. Our goal is not victory. It is survival. Take no risks you do not need to.”
 
*The time has come. The armies of the elves, now but minutes from the fort’s outer walls. The foot soldiers, lined up on the walls, had begun firing their crossbows, aiming to thin the horde as much as possible. Noone was thinking themselves good enough to hit any possible elf among them, but if someone could land a critical shot to an exposed tendon on an orc or minotaur, it would be a great help. The siege towers were being pushed forward. Bit excessive if you ask me, bringing siege weapons to this shitty old fort, but that’s the elves for you. They love to show off their perceived superiority, they love to strike far harder than they need to. They think it will scare us. Wrong. Only most of us. I search their lines for elves, but there either are none with the horde, or they are waiting, hiding. I look down to the courtyard, where the knights and militia are preparing. Sirya, bless her young heart, was doing her best to look calm... she was failing miserably. Her eyes wide, even from up here I could see her lip trembling. Poor rookie. An arrow whizzed past my head. That was the sign to duck behind cover. The slave soldiers had reached the walls, trying to now prop up siege ladders. Damn elves put some pinning mechanism on them, once set up you can’t knock’em down like normal ones. The goblins began making the first ascent.* “HERE THEY COME!” *I know shouting it felt unnecessary to the men on the walls, but as a warning to the rest it was needed. The footmen dropped their crossbows at once, drawing their weapons for close quarters combat. Hiding behind the merlons from the enemy archers, the first of the brutal clashes was about to begin, the skirmish to hold the walls at least until the siege towers arrive. The goblins dove over the battlements, and came to clash with the footmen. They were weak, and poorly armored, but many. Yet, we had them outmatched. They fell before us like wheat before a scythe, and the harvest was bountiful. I made sure to show these savages, and their masters, one thing: we would NOT go down without a fight. As I impaled another goblin and threw him over the battlements, I noticed the siege towers, now minutes away. The time was coming to abandon the walls... then I saw one. Down among the goblins and orcs... an elf. Bright gold and dark blue armor, body fully protected... an elf. Well shit. I’ve fought in over a hundred battles in this war. I’ve fought one of these alone twice, both times barely surviving. With cat-like agility, the elf made his way up a ladder, making his way to the footmen.* “La’ranai!” *Vermin. He was calling us vermin, as he began advancing tothe troops. I called to them. *”FALL BACK!!!”
“Rath’ashinai!” *Cowards. Another one I’ve heard before. As have several others. But who cares. Our objective isn’t victory, it’s survival. And sometimes, cowards do survive. But it wasn’t enough. He was moving quickly, so I had to act. Bracing my polehammer, I charged against him, to buy the less armored footmen some more time. I knew I had to be careful, because I was pretty sure if I died, the morale and leadership would go with me. I only needed to delay him. I prepared to buy them time, watching carefully. The elves are fast, after all, so I needed to be on high alert for any movement. Just as he was within range, he swung his saber overhead. I blocked it, whirling the bottom of my polehammeraround to try and strike him in the side of the head. He ducked, performing a quick backstep before lunging again, this time with a thrust of both his weapons. I deflected the saber and jumped back out of the range of the dagger, striking downwards at his head which, again, he evaded. He was starting to piss me off. Thankfully, elves have very good eyesight. Driving the spike of my polehammer’s head into the wall, I managed to catch him off guard by ripping it forward, grinding across the stone of the battlements and launching sparks into his face. That would be bad for a human or orc. But an elf, with their incredible eyesight? Like I just threw a packet of suns in his face. He growled, stumbling back, clutching his face. I had a moment, I had to act quickly. Winding my hammer far behind my back, I swung it full force into the top of his helmet. With a crunch that under any other circumstances would be sickening, albeit under THESE circumstances was very satisfying, his helmet caved in, followed by his skull. I watched his eyes roll back as blood sprayed from his nose and eye holes alike, and he crumpled to the floor, dead as dead can be. Quickly turning around, I ran to re-join the others. The outer wall had fallen, as more and more ladders lined up against it, and the siege towers began drawing ever closer.* “CROSSBOWS! SECOND WALL!” *As one, both footmen and peasant militia alike, at least those carrying crossbows, made for the second of the fort’s three walls, preparing to fire down into the courtyard to provide support for us knights and the melee footmen.* “KNIGHTS, FOOTMEN, BRACE!!!” *The tide of goblins soon began pouring into the courtyard. We made quick work of them, after all, they were just goblins. Having to go down the stairways to face us removed the only thing that made them dangerous: limited in how many at a time could approach, they couldn’tswarm us. I saw Sirya nearby, though still frightened she fought on regardless, severing a goblin’s head. I only hoped her first battle would not be her last. That was when I saw them. The first pair of orcs had begun making their way down the stairs to the courtyard... I sighed in relief as one got shot between the eyes with a crossbow bolt. Must have been Marissa, the old ranger from the militia. The other villagers said she had great aim. Seems they weren’t kidding. The other orc nonetheless began rushing towards them, already winding up his greatsword that was easily taller than even the orc himself. There was one advantage to fighting the more elite slave troops of the Telvari: they were gladiators. They were trained for spectacle and brutality. Not the cold, practical precision of war. Spinning attacks, jumping attacks, some of the morons even used their swords in reverse grip at times. This abysmal lack of skill and actual military combat training was perhaps the greatest weakness of their more formidable slaves. And lo and behold, the orc immediately leapt into the air with a spin, exposing his back and trapping himself in a single, unstoppable movement. I only needed to lunge forward, burying the spike at the top of my polehammer in the back of his neck and severing his spine, killing him with a single blow. These next words, I dedicate to any future warriors reading my report on this battle: no amount of strength can save you if you flail it around like an imbecile. Kicking the orc off my hammer, I looked back up at the walls. More goblins and orcs... wait. The gate just shook. And the elves did not use battering rams.* “BRACE YOURSELVES! MINOTAURS AT THE GATE!” *Another impact, the gate was starting to crack. Old, with worn out and battered wood and rusty iron, it would not hold the minotaurs for much longer. The good thing was, the minotaurs would also trample any allies between themselves and their foe. The bad thing was, they were very good at trampling their foes, too.* “CLOSER TO THE GATE! DON’T GIVE THEM ROOM TO CHARGE! BRACE POLEARMS!” *As if on cue, the third blow came, and the gate fell into the courtyard crushing dozens of goblins and many orcs. One orc managed to only be partially trapped... not that it mattered, as her head was turned to paste by a hoof the size of a buckler. If you thought the orcs were massive at 7 feet tall... the minotaurs were 10 feet on AVERAGE... and these two were both above average. I’d tell you my guess, but I was too busy trying to focus on not shitting myself to count how many foot-tall stone blocks they were tall. They began making their way into the courtyard, one leaning down while the other simply let his horns scrape against the top of the gateway. They were both wielding massive staffs, covered in massive steel spikes on one end and ending in a morning star on the other. They roared, before beginning their charge. This is why I had us move closer. If we were further away, they would have been able to build momentum. And then, their charge would smash through us like nothing. Instead, they ran into the frontline, swinging their staffs. I ducked under the blow, but four men next to me were left crushed or impaled by the one on the right, whilst the minotaur on the left swung with a brutal overhead. I heard the far-more-familiar-than-I'd-like noise of a man being compressed into a far less vertical form as the ground itself shook, sending many of us stumbling. Using the fact I avoided the blow to my advantage, I pierced the minotaur’s leg, using the hook on the back of my hammer’s head to catch him in the back of the knee. He roared in pain and fury, and attempted to grab me. Thankfully, Marissa put a shot through his eye, stunning him long enough for me and another 10 men to come together into a shove, knocking the beast over. As the men got to stabbing, slashing and beating the minotaur while it was on it’s back, I looked at the other one. It swung again, wiping out an entire group of knights and footmen alike. I lost sight of Sirya... oh no. Hefting my hammer I rushed at the minotaur from behind, winding up from over my shoulder into an upwards swing. The disgusting wet crunch, followed by the high-pitched wail from the minotaur, suggested I connected with at least one of the targets. As the beast crumpled to the ground, I leapt onto it’s back, smashing my hammer into the back of it’s skull. After the fifth blow, I finally managed to crack it’s thick skull. Turning my hammer around, I drove it downwards, the spike at the top sliding through the cracks into it’s brain. I turned to one of the older knights.* “Where’s Sirya?!” “No idea sir! I lost sight of her after that first swing!” “Shit. I’ll go look for her, we need everyone standing we can get. If she’s not confirmed dead, that includes her!” “Understood, sir!” *Just then, an explosion came from beyond the fort’s walls. An impact of a trebuchet. I heard one of the footmen with crossbows shout at me.* “SIR! WE SEE THEM! THE LORD-PALADIN'S FORCES ARE OVER THE HORIZON!!!” *We may just yet walk out of here happy and alive.* “YOU HEAR THAT MEN? FIGHT JUST A LITTLE LONGER! SURVIVE!” *Another group of orc gladiators began rushing us.* @BRACE! SHIELD WALL!” *Locking side by side with shields raised, the line stumbled back as the orcs hit us, but while pushed back we remained standing. I swung over the shields, smashing an orc’s skull with immense gratitude to their lack of helmets. As blows rained onto orc and shield alike, both lines were whittled down. By the time the last orc fell, we had lost a dozen footmen, thirty of the peasant militia, and even a pair of knights. Taking the chance, I rushed against the enemy horde with a few other knights to find the rookie. I heard a scream, and hurried towards it. That is where I found her. She was battered from getting launched by the minotaur, narrowly avoiding impalement through sheer luck. Her helmet was off to the side, bashed into the head of a goblin. Her sword was buried in an orc’s neck a few feet to the left. Even her shield had been rammed down the skull of another goblin. And there she stood, bloodied, shaking with fear, rage and adrenaline, sobbing as she continued to bash down upon an elf with her mace. I noticed the state of both. The elf landed two grim stabs on her stomach. It seemed he wished to enjoy the kill, the elves have a tendency of playing with their food. The elf himself had his knee shattered, presumably from the mace that was now crashing down onto his chest again and again. I rushed over to her.* “SIRYA!” *She stopped, turning to me. Her eyes were red from crying, her face stained with tears, blood, sweat and grime. She had a hole in the side of her mouth, right through the cheek. One of her eyes, in fact, was bloody, blood slowly pouring from her eyelid. Her hair was stuck together with blood dried and wet alike. She still had a dagger in her side.* “S... sir Lian?” “Yes, it’s me kid. I-” *She dropped the mace, stumbling towards me and the other three knights before collapsing to her knees, shoulders shaking with quick breaths and choked sobs.* “I... I-” “”It’s okay kid... help is here. You can rest up, go to the healer now. You did good... you did great.” *I turned to the knight to my left.* “Take her to the healer.” “Yes sir. Come along kid, let’s get you patched up.” *At least physically. I knew from the look in her eyes she would never be the same...*

*The clean-up was swift. With the forces of Lord-Paladin Bruk arriving, the elves and their slaves quickly retreated. The Lord-Paladin had yet to come speak with me, he was consulting his advisors while his men chased down and eliminated the fleeing attackers. I looked at the fort. It stood. And, more importantly, so did most of it’s defenders. Sirya had passed out from her wounds, but the healers say she will survive. Marissa had begun leading the peasants in assisting where and how they could. So here I am, standing on the battlements alone. And for once, in this war, I smile. Because not only did we win... besides a few exceptions, we all survived to drink to it. And in a war as brutal as this... well, General Paranz, I consider that a happy ending to conclude my tale and report alike.*

*Signed, sir Lian Polhardt, sentinel of Selaron*

So this is from my first playthrough, WAY back around the time the game finally had all the episodes out. Up until episode 8 where she showed up without the amulet (I romanced Courtney my first playthrough) I deadass thought she was ALSO an alien or some kind of android. Between her comment about “I used to call it Triple D’s, but I was informed that had a different connotation.” making it seem like she didn’t know about something a human woman absolutely would - breast sizes - and right after her “Bio break” line, I genuinely thought she wasn’t human until I heard her voice coming from Mandy in episode 8. I thought she was some kind of alien and Phenomaman was like some kind of secret goverment project that was given to SDN to basically engineer into the perfect hero, either a scientifically enhanced human or a god robot of sorts, but no. Turns out Dumpy’s the alien and Mandy’s just a socially awkward dork. So there. I NEVER suspected Blazer to be a twist villain, to me she was a twist human because I genuinely thought she was an alien.