"This is bad! Enemies are everywhere!'
"I am at my limit!"
"We are being surrounded at all sides. And the enemies push deep into our ranks!"
Marquis Cyril soldiers were struggling as Orlais-Fanoss Union soldiers were gradually killing them.
When a group of 10 men was about to feel hopeless, a horse trampled enemy's infantry attacking them. A young muscular woman was on it and she cut down the trampled enemies.
"Fear not!" She yelled while raised her blade.
Her slightly long ears were twitching when she was shouting. The half-elf fighter was a captivating sight as she charged into battle astride a majestic horse. Her presence exuded strength, grace, and an unwavering determination.
"Miss Mithra!" The soldiers of Marquis Cyril who were of different racial background from her shouted to arouse their courage.
Her attire reflected a fusion of natural elements unknown to this part of continent and functional battle gear, blending culture and practicality seamlessly.
Adorned with vibrant feathers, her headpiece stood tall atop her head, accentuating her regal stature. The feathers, carefully selected for their symbolic significance, fluttered in the wind, adding a dynamic and captivating element to her ravishing appearance. Her long, flowing hair, often dark and lustrous, danced freely behind her, mirroring the untamed spirit within her.
She wore a form-fitting, sleeveless tunic or dress, crafted from supple leather or woven fabric, which allowed for unrestricted movement during combat. The earthy tones of the garment echoed the colors of her greenish homeland and were intricately embellished with beadwork, reflecting her connection to her Dalish tribe heritage.
Protective elements were cleverly integrated into her outfit. A chest plate made of hardened leather or intricately crafted metal shielded her vital organs, while shoulder guards provided additional defense. Her forearms were wrapped in supple leather bracers, ensuring both protection and flexibility.
Mounted on her trusty steed, the horse became an extension of her warrior spirit. The horse's coat, often dark and strong, reflected the resilience shared between rider and mount. It was adorned with handcrafted ornaments, such as feathers, beads, and woven patterns, echoing Mithra's own regalia.
As she charged into battle, her presence was commanding and awe-inspiring. Her eyes, intense and focused, revealed a deep connection to her ancestors and a fierce determination to help her allies who came from different race. The rhythmic beat of hooves against the ground echoed the heartbeat of her tribe, propelling her forward with unwavering purpose.
In her skilled hands, she wields weapons traditionally associated with Dalish tribe half-elf warriors. A bow and arrow rest comfortably across her back, a testament to her tribe's exceptional marksmanship. Additionally, she carried a war club, symbolizing her strength in close-quarters combat.
Suddenly, a cavalry approached her followed by a dozen other cavalry.
"I am Cleitus the Black, formerly came from the Olga Federation, in the far north continent. I am now serving the Orlais-Fanoss Union. Half-elf girl. You are good but you will go down!"
Before the much smaller Mithra, amidst the thundering hooves and swirling dust, stood a formidable cavalry warrior. Clad in gleaming armor that reflected the rays of the sun, he was a commanding presence on the battlefield. Tall and muscular, he possessed the physique of a seasoned warrior, his powerful frame emanating strength.
Upon his head, a bronze helmet adorned with a magnificent horsehair crest. The helmet, with its curved cheek guards and slits for vision, protected his head while allowing him to maintain a keen awareness of his surroundings.
His upper body was encased in a suit of intricately crafted bronze armor. The cuirass, molded to fit his chest and abdomen, boasted decorative engravings that depicted tales of bravery and conquest. Worn over a linen tunic, the armor safeguarded him against the thrust of enemy spears and the glinting blades of swords.
As he mounted his steed, a sturdy Macedonian horse bred for battle, his attire continued down his legs. Bronze greaves protected his shins, while leather boots provided both flexibility and support, enabling him to swiftly maneuver amidst the chaos of the battlefield.
In his right hand, he tightly gripped a long, double-edged lance known as a sarissa. This mighty weapon, reaching up to eighteen feet in length, extended his reach and allowed him to strike down adversaries from a safe distance. Its pointed iron head glinted menacingly as he brandished it, ready to pierce through the ranks of his foes.
A large round shield, known as an aspis, adorned his left arm. Fashioned from wood and covered in thick hide, the shield featured a polished bronze boss at its center. This formidable defense protected him from incoming arrows and deflected the blows of enemy weapons, serving as a steadfast barrier in the heat of battle.
His attire was completed by a crimson cloak that billowed behind him as he rode, adding a splash of color to the dust-covered landscape.
"I am Mithra of the Dalish tribe, now fighting for Marquis Cyril de Montfort. We Dalish don't fear challenges!"
Cleitus inspected the young woman and his view stopped at her slightly long wars.
"Oh. I'd never met descendants of the elves. Dalish, the half-elf tribe. I thought you had perished."
Mithra didn't respond but just rushed at his horse with her horse.
Mithra and Cleitus charged at each other with their horses, the clash of their forces echoing through the battlefield. The ground beneath them trembled as the two powerful warriors engaged in a fierce joust, each aiming to gain the upper hand.
Mithra expertly maneuvered her horse, her bond with the majestic creature evident in their synchronized movements. She brandished her war club with precision, ready to strike with calculated force. Her determination and skill were matched only by her unwavering spirit.
Cleitus, an experienced cavalryman, showcased his mastery of the sarissa. He skillfully guided his mount, utilizing his lance's extended reach to keep Mithra at a distance. His powerful strikes were aimed at exploiting any weakness in her defenses.
As their horses drew closer, Mithra made a swift and unexpected move. With a sudden shift in her body weight, she leaned to the side and executed a graceful sidestep, evading Cleitus' oncoming lance. In one fluid motion, she swung her war club with remarkable agility, aiming for Cleitus' exposed side.
Cleitus reacted swiftly, raising his shield to block Mithra's attack. The impact reverberated through his arm, but his sturdy defense held.
The battlefield raged on around them as Mithra and Cleitus engaged in their duel. Dust swirled in the air, obscuring their vision but not diminishing their determination. The clash of their weapons echoed through the chaos, a testament to their unwavering resolve.
As the battle raged on, the gap in their skill and experience showed. Several of his attacks cut her body.
Mithra gritted her teeth, feeling the sting of Cleitus' strikes. Blood trickled down her wounds, but she refused to yield. Her fighting spirit burned bright, fueled by her connection to her Dalish heritage and the camaraderie of the soldiers who fought alongside her.
"Little girl. You are good but far too unskilled for me." He taunted as she was breathing hard while parrying his attacks.
Despite her injuries and exhaustion, Mithra remained steadfast and determined. She could not let Cleitus's words deter her. She realized she would never defeat the veteran cavalry before her even in a hundred years but she had an ace up her sleeve. She didn't use her Dalish magic skills to supplement her physical attacks up until now as her magical energy was limited but she had reached a life and death situation now.
As the battle raged on and Mithra's wounds continued to accumulate, she knew that she had to take a risk. With her magical energy reaching its limits, she focused her inner strength and tapped into her latent Dalish magic. Her connection to the natural world surged through her, granting her renewed vigor and a surge of power.
With a sudden burst of energy, Mithra unleashed her Dalish magic, channeling it through her weapon and her body. Her war club glowed with an ethereal light as she swung it with newfound strength and speed. The blows landed with greater force, catching Cleitus off guard and pushing him on the defensive.
"Little girl. You can use magic while being a physical fighter?" He shouted in perplexity.
The magic coursing through Mithra's veins enhanced her reflexes and agility, allowing her to evade Cleitus' counterattacks with uncanny precision. She moved with a grace and speed that surpassed her previous capabilities, her movements becoming a blur to her opponent.
Cleitus, taken aback by Mithra's sudden surge in power, found himself struggling to keep up with her relentless assault. Her strikes came from unexpected angles and with increased ferocity, wearing down his defenses and leaving him vulnerable.
The veteran warrior was somehow to cut his female foe using his sharp sight.
Despite Cleitus's sharp sight and skill, Mithra's newfound power and agility proved to be a formidable challenge. She deftly evaded his strikes and countered with swift and powerful attacks of her own. With each blow, she chipped away at his defenses, leaving him increasingly vulnerable.
Bloodied and battered, Mithra fought on with unwavering determination. Her connection to her Dalish magic continued to fuel her, providing her with the strength and resilience to push through the pain.
As the battle between Mithra and Cleitus reached its climax, the clash of their forces intensified. Their movements were a blur of speed and precision, each maneuvering with calculated precision. The clash of their weapons reverberated through the battlefield, a testament to their unwavering resolve and the stakes at hand.
In one final, decisive strike, Mithra unleashed the full force of her Dalish magic. Her war club glowed with a brilliant, radiant light as she swung it with all her might, channeling her inner strength and the power of her ancestors. The blow landed squarely on Cleitus's armor, shattering it and sending him sprawling to the ground.
A sound of broken bones was heard and blood sprayed from his body.
The final attack drained her all and she collapsed.
"Lord Cleitus!" Orlais-Fanoss Union soldiers came to check his body.
"Miss Mithra. Thank God. she is alive!" Marquis Cyril soldiers came to take away her body.
"Oh, no. Lord Cleitus is dead!" Orlais-Fanoss Union soldiers wailed while their counterparts dragged Mithra's body from his corpse.
The battlefield fell into a momentary silence as the realization of Cleitus's defeat and death settled in. The air was heavy with both victory and loss, as soldiers from both sides processed the outcome of the fierce duel. The fallen Cleitus was mourned by his comrades, while Mithra's unconscious form was swiftly carried away by her fellow Marquis Cyril soldiers.
As the battle continued to rage around them, the news of Cleitus's demise spread, affecting the morale of the Orlais-Fanoss Union soldiers. The loss of their formidable cavalry warrior dealt a blow to their forces, further fueling the determination of the Marquis Cyril soldiers to push forward.
Mithra, unconscious but alive, was carried to safety by her comrades.
Word of the duel between Mithra and Cleitus spread throughout the ranks, inspiring awe and admiration for the young half-elf fighter.
As the battle continued to unfold, Mithra's actions and her triumph over Cleitus became a rallying cry for the soldiers of Marquis Cyril.
