The Equestrian Bloodmoon: Untold Events

“Coward!” Uriel yelled as Janus ran from the fray, passing Reman's recruits. He and three of the bandits escaped into the fortress, leaving their compatriots to die at the unified hands of House Tullius.

“Peace, brother; these forts never have a back exit,” Reman said, waving a hand at his mounted twin. Calvary may have been effective on open ground, but the semi-cramped courtyard was choked enough with men that a horse could hardly maneuver at the best of times. “We're near enough to Skingrad for House Mortus to reinforce us, should these four prove too difficult to flush out.”

“Reman, Uriel, take six men with you and clear the ruins; there isn't enough space to store food for more men than we've seen so far,” their father intoned, trotting closer. Antonius was injured, but his armor caught the brunt of it. Of the forty-five men they'd had when attacking, only about half remained, the brigands had suffered considerably more for their lack of numbers.

“We're on it,” the younger twin said as he dismounted, clasping his gloved hands together. Uriel, despite his eagerness to fight, had escaped severe injury, and even his armor, polished and shining as it was, looked new when compared to his father's or brother's.

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“Let's do this!” Honey Dew shouted as she and Bright Star led their friends into the club. Thumping music and eye-burning lights assaulted their senses as they pushed Glade to the front, not wanting the birthday mare to miss any of the action. It was packed wall-to-wall with ponies of every color and size, though being Cloudsdale, there was a noticeable lack of anypony who wasn't a pegasus.

“Aw yeah,” Cumulus Swirl yelled as she moseyed her way to the dance area; it could hardly be called a floor with half its occupants flying several feet above it. Glade, followed by her friends, made her way to the bar for her first legal drink. The barkeep, a friend from school, nodded and poured her favorite, having seen her down several of the shots in a row before. Glade downed it and raised the glass above her head.

“We're here to party!”

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“We're here to kill you, traitor,” Uriel said, pointing his blade at Janus. He and Reman were the only two who made it this far, and with two bandits left, the odds were not exactly in their favor. “Brother, take his pet; I'll fight Janus.”

The pet in question was a tall, broad-shouldered Nord who seemed more at home swinging an ax than drinking, and he was taking a swig of ale as he observed the three Imperials. Hoping his younger, foolhardy twin knew what he was doing, Reman charged, shield at the ready and sword poised for a strike to the gut. The Nord moved like lightning, bringing his heavy battleax down before he could see, and gave Reman only an instant to parry. With a sudden push against his hand, he felt the hilt relax, and saw metal shards clinking to the floor.

In the next moment, he brought up his shield, and nearly lost an arm as the sharp head pried its way through the leather-covered wood, stopping only at the steel brace Reman habitually wore when not using his off hand for magic. Like a whip, he summoned a sword from the waters of Oblivion, and turned it in time to take some of the force behind a nearly-fatal strike.

The Orcish ax tore through the bound weapon, biting through the steel and skin of his right should, and ground its way down, finally freeing itself when it reached his cotton trousers, and continued on its way until cutting through his left thigh and swinging home.

The last thing he heard was the footfall of a score of men as they charged up the corridor, the much-needed cavalry that arrived only too late.

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Glade an her entourage left the club three hours after they arrived, escorted out by the barkeep and two of the bouncers for their own safety. While drunk, Honey Dew had seen one of her, rather numerous, exes, and rather than act like a normal adult, her good friend tequila told her all it took for Thunder Hammer to take her back was to call his new fillyfriend a slut, then slap her.

“We'll hail a cab, ladies,” one of the bouncers said as he took off to get the attention of one of Cloudsdale's many aerial carriages. Glade patted Honey on the back, half-drunk and sorry her friend was sad, though she didn't actually see anything happen.

“I didn't mean to ruin everything,” she cried, clumsily burying her face in her hooves. Glade punched her on the shoulder, smiling.

“Nah; this is probably the best day of my life.”

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Reman was fairly certain he was going to die, slain by some nameless thug in a backwoods fort as his brother went on to glory. His torso was mostly open, and he could see his lower entrails dangling from a hole rent through his armor. He tried to hold himself together, staggering to keep on his feet, as his father and other members of his house burst into the chamber, weapons drawn and eager to kill. He tried to heal himself with magic, but his skills were far too lacking, and he merely managed to tire himself more.

One of the medics carried him from the room, up a flight of stairs, and into the open air atop a semi-collapsed bulwark. Stabbing Reman's standard into the rampart, the medic placed him on the cobbled stone so he could get to work. Half-alive and less lucid, the young man muttered prayers for Arkay to allow him to stay in this world while the man in the white robes worked his magic. “You'll live, my lord,” he said as Reman's organ shifted into place.

After what felt like moments, but was several hours in all reality, Reman was more or less alive, and in only a few pieces. He reclined against a wall, watching as his blank, bloodstained banner fluttered in the breeze, and tried not to think of the men he'd lost or that moving too suddenly would reopen his wounds and kill him. The light tink of a bottle being tapped against stone rouse his attentions, though he turned much slower than he would have liked.

“Drink up, son; it's the closest thing to food you'll be able to have until your wounds heal all the way,” Antonius said to his son, holding a bottle of thick, green medicine in one hand, and a bottle of mead in the other.

Reman decided this was the worst day of his life, and that things could only go up from there.