God Rising: Battle of Atela

Marcellus knew something was wrong when this whole trip started. An urgent message from the council… Out of the blue? He had his doubts, but he received the news from Edmund so he didn't say anything. 

But now, there was clearly something wrong. A few minutes back, they took a wrong turn at Larkingale Town and he was sure they weren't headed for the council. 

"Edmund, where are we?" he asked level headedly.

"I told you my Lord, we're going to the council house to meet some of the senates to discuss some growing matters they asked you to address," Edmund replied smoothly, never glancing up from his notes. 

"You say that, but we've been heading towards nowhere for the past half hour," this earned Edmund a questioning look from Marcellus.

"I'm sure the coach knows where he's going. He's been driving us for years" Edmund replied, trying his best to not sound annoyed and kept his eyes on his parchments.

Marcellus let out a sigh. There really was nothing he could do. Even though he ruled over the land, he didn't recognize most of the landmarks and he needed someone to guide him. He was just about to shut his eyes when he noticed it. He could feel a sinister presence around them, and he didn't like it one bit. 

"Stop this carriage" he called out to the coach.

"Look, My Lord, I know you aren't familiar with this terrain, but I can assure you that stopping this carriage now will only serve to derail us more," Edmund said.

"STOP THIS CARRIAGE, NOW!" he bellowed. The horses came to an abrupt halt and there was silence. Not the kind of silence you would expect from the area surrounding them. There should have at least been the sound of birds chirping or leaves rustling, but there was none of that. Just a still cold silence; dangerous and unnatural. 

Edmund and Marcellus got out of the Carriage to survey, and the two beastmen pulled out their swords.  Marcellus's ears perked up and went into hyper-drive; picking the whistling sound headed right at him.

"DOWN!" He screamed as he dragged Edmund down, letting the arrow miss his head by a few inches. Marcellus smashed the door down and dove for cover in the opposite direction of the arrow, dragging Edmund along with him. He glanced around to assess the situation, using his ears to get a grasp of just what he was up against. The coach wasn't in his seat anymore, and the horses had started fidgeting. 

Marcellus moved just in time to avoid another arrow that was supposed to plant itself in his backside. 'Just great!' An unknown number of assailants who weren't in the mood to exchange words surrounded him. Okay, he needed to draw their fire to an open area where he could really let loose. 

He was starting to feel out of range of his attackers when he felt a sharp pain in the gut. It caught him off guard and threw him off his horse. He hit the ground hard and struggled back to his feet to understand his situation. The scene he opened his eyes to see hit him with a wave of different, mostly confused emotions. 

In the clearing where they stopped, he noticed a large group surrounding him in the distance. He glimpsed the attackers and noticed that they were all well versed in their fields of combat. He heard the sound of running water nearby. A river perhaps? But more importantly, and more soul ripping was when he noticed where the wound in his gut came from. Standing off a few feet in front of him next to the horse was Edmund, holding a dagger that was quite obviously in his gut a few moments ago.

"Why?"

That was the only thought going through Marcellus's head. Just, Why? In quick succession, his mind explored his history with Edmund over the years, trying to figure out just what could have caused this. He had only a brief moment with his thoughts before his mind received another wave of confused emotions hit again because he was now gazing at three people he wouldn't have suspected to be behind his assault.. 

His friend and advisor that he'd known for years, Edmund, his brother who he'd grown up with, Klaus and his own son, Vincent.

"Why?" This time, the words actually left his mouth.

"You're not needed anymore, father. For us to get what we desire, we have to put you to eternal rest. Do not hate us father, we fight to claim territories, this is the beastman nature."

The last words drew out a new kind of emotion from Marcellus. He ripped out his feelings of betrayal and replaced it with rage. Not the annoyed rage you feel during a heated argument, no. This was something else. Like a wave in an ocean of pure anger just thrashing around in his head. He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts; even though taking all these guys out would be a cinch, anger was always a bad idea in combat.

Vincent let a small smile creep onto his face 

"This is the end for you Brother," Klaus said in a low voice.

As if on cue, the magic circle with a pentagram under Marcellus's feet glowed. Apparently, during the conversation, seven mages had surrounded him and conjured a transmutation circle. The Demigod knew those markings. They were trying to nullify his power. He dashed forward a second too late. 

Before he could escape the ring of ruin underneath his feet, it became fully functional. He howled as his magic metre was draining out of his body. He could feel a part of his very existence seeping out of his chest. Without his power even a handful of goblins would make quick work of him.

He pulled himself back together and began moving forward again. If he could just make it out of the circle.

"Impossible!" Two of the mages let out in a synchronized voice.

"How can he still move? That spell is potent enough to hold down 200 beastmen!"

The formerly confident Mages nearby started exchanging nervous glances that made it clear that they were second guessing the feasibility of their plan to overwhelm Marcellus with numbers. 

Klaus grimaced and drew his weapons; a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. He should have known that it wouldn't be that easy, even with more numbers. His comrades followed suit and pulled out a variety of weapons. The assassins looked like a small army ready to take on a dragon - ready but scared to death.

Marcellus ripped out of the bonds of the circle to the sight of Klaus and Vincent rushing straight at him. He drew his weapon and deflected Vincent's sword, then dodged and kicked Klaus in the gut. 

He noticed immediately that his powers had been cut down by a wide margin because Klaus didn't fly crashing into the nearest tree; he only stumbled backwards a bit. This made him realize that the men surrounding him might actually be a threat. He had to get defensive and, more importantly, out of the middle of his attackers. 

He jumped backwards about 7 feet; a lot less than he had intended. He landed in front of two confused swordsmen and made a wide back slash at the first one's chest. The assassin crumbled to the ground while Marcellus grabbed the other one by his face and viciously planted his hand into the ground along with the assassin's head - those two weren't getting up anytime soon. He turned around and faced his opponents head on. There were at least thirty-five of them, including the traitors.

Vincent knew where this was going; if they gave his father the chance, he would be able to turn the tide of this battle on them. 

"CHARGE!" He yelled.

It spurred all the attackers around into action and they rushed forward towards Marcellus.

The Demigod gripped his sword a bit tighter. He was outnumbered and inconveniently out powered. If he wanted to win this, he'd need a great deal of luck and a few tricks. Luckily, the blade in his hand had a few tricks of its own. He flung his sword at the nearest swordsman and dove forward as the blade came in contact with the fighter's chest. 

He grabbed his sword along with the limp body of the swordsman and flung the body at another group of foes. The corpse tackled the men to the group as Marcellus grabbed another by his head and slammed him into the ground. He looked like a powerful beast chewing through a horde of rabbits.

Vincent saw the frenzy of the one-sided battle unfolding before him and braced his weapon - waiting for the right opportunity.

Marcellus took an Archer by his waist and flung him at Klaus. He dodged as quickly as he could and was able to avoid the body. However, he didn't notice Marcellus's blade flying straight at him. The sword engraved itself in Klaus's shoulder and he let out a pained groan. 

Vincent saw it as an opportunity and took it. He made a beeline for his father and thrust his weapon forward. Marcellus moved just in time to stop the blade with his nondominant hand. This earned him a deep cut in his palm, but spared him an otherwise fatal blow. The Demigod yanked the sword out of Vincent's hand and swung the hilt at the beastman. It connected and sent Vincent sprawling across the ground. 

The area suddenly lit up as the mages started flinging blazing fireballs at Marcellus. He managed to avoid most of them by making body shields of a couple of fighters, but still got singed on his right leg. Edmund along with four other swordsmen started advancing on Marcellus, seeing as he was weaponless. 

Marcellus waited for them to come closer until they were only a few feet away. He thrust his hand forward at Klaus and his sword swiftly ripped itself out of Klaus's arm. He immediately swung his weapon in a wide arc at his assailants. This took down three archers while Edmund stepped back nimbly; expecting the whole thing.

Marcellus noticed his own heavy breathing and realized that he wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. He glanced around. He had taken down half of the goons and severely injured his brother. On the other hand, the pesky mages were still kicking and Vincent and Edmund had taken little to no damage at all. Marcellus's confidence started to give out on him. 

While he was weighing the odds, Vincent, Edmund and Klaus along with their remaining forces came into a formation with the three beastmen in the middle back, with the remaining fighters flanking them on both sides in front. The mages were scattered around the field, ready to conjure up sinister spells.

Marcellus let out a battle cry and rushed forward. He threw out his vicious attacks and settled for swift movements and decisive blows. He punched and gutted one archer and swiftly moved out of the way of a fireball that subsequently blasted Vincent in the face. 

Vincent shook it off and ran at his father. Marcellus was too busy avoiding fireballs, arrows, and sword swings to notice when Vincent and Edmund launched a coordinated attack on him. Edmund jabbed at Marcellus with his long sword while Vincent came in from the back with a wide slash. 

Marcellus avoided Edmund's blade but received a huge cut in the back from Vincent. This brought Marcellus down on a knee. 

Edmund let a sly smile creep onto his face.

The fighters around didn't wait for Marcellus to heal with the little magic he had left. They sprung at him and one managed to plant his dagger in Marcellus's back before he could swing his sword.

The demigod felt the painful sting in his back, deduced that whatever had just made a home in his posterior was laced with strong venom. He lashed out with both arms and knocked back some of his assailants. This however left him open to the massive fireball that three mages had been charging up behind the swordsmen. 

They let their magic attack fly at Marcellus, and it hit him square in the chest. He flew back a few feet and landed on his back, which promptly proved extremely painful as the dagger moved in deeper. Marcellus got back up in a hunched position and summoned his blade that had fallen from his grasp. He felt the blood trickling down his backside as his vision blurred and he took in short, ragged breaths. 

His foes were still active enough and were slowly advancing. He looked down at the ground and took one long breath. He then let out a loud battle cry that sounded more like a howl and rushed his opponents.

Marcellus barely had any thoughts on his mind except "kill" He devolved back to his primal instincts and was lashing and thrashing at his foes. To the outside world, he seemed like an angered beast stomping around and absorbing damage. He took two fireballs to the face without flinching and gutted one of the pesky mages. In his frenzy, he didn't notice the real threat.

Vincent picked up a bow and laced an arrow with snake venom. He took aim and let the shot fly at his father. The last thing Marcellus remembered was a sharp pain in his neck, the swirling of his vision and the color of the sky above him.

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