Rolling hills.... rolling hills with valley between them stretched beyond what the eye could see to the north. On the west, with the mountains eclipsing the setting sun, fifty score (50 X 20 for those who don't understand that saying.) of dragi battallions stood in formation. Their numbers were mostly reds and browns with a few greys here and there to keep order. A silver led each one. At the head of the league stood one grey fox, a symbol on her left shoulder marking her as Chosen. At each of her sides were two golds and a platinum took watch behind her.
A red was flying to them from the east, and landed in a kneel...
Scout: "They come T'semarril..."
???: "How many? Are there peace keepers leading them?"
Scout: "At least a full fleet's worth, and I've confirmed at least six peace keepers."
"Then they know I'm here," spoke the platinum, "I'll do my best to keep them busy."
Ten minutes prior...
Prelute: "The marked one stands ready to face us my lords and ladies, here in open plains of planet Saphire."
???: "Make ready the troops, we shall bring our full force to bear on them."
???: "You believe we'll need that many to subdue her?"
???: "Of course we will, they have a platinum in their ranks and we'll have our hands full dealing with him."
Prelute: "Your forces stand ready for transtech. A spore spear has already been planted."
Each peace keeper reached for a dial on their shoulders, turned it and pushed the button upon it. The next second, all of them turned to face their grand fleet on the plains.
???: "WE MARCH TO THE WEST! THE MARKED ONE TAKES PRIORITY! CAPTURE AND SUBDUE ON SIGHT! ERASE THE REST!
The horde moved in unision, turning towards their destination and making the final preparations as they moved.
The kreshals and leakards formed the bulk of the 50,000 strong legion, activating their mirror shields and blaster/blades respectively while readying their obsidian armor for the carnage to come. The Jilankas brought forth giant chainsaw blades who's edges were ringed with diamonds for maximum cutting power. Their packs were leaden with all they needed to erect walls and turrets should it come to it.
The Shawdeas stayed aboard the ship with the only Ri'lao in the fleet. This was going to be an honorable ground battle regardless of outcome.
When the empire's army arrived, they stopped and looked upon the small, but powerful force before them.
A standstill had begun, neither side moving a muscle. Only the wind was heard during the hours they gazed at each other.
Both knew the other's agenda, and that who ever won this needless massacre would invariably control this sector of the galaxy at large.
No form of parley would commence, as it would be a useless gesture. The intensity of emotion on each side built up as Ki and anger slowy came to a boil...
Suddenly, the T'semarril broke the silence with a howling warcry, amplified a second later by her kin and answered with the gutterral wailing of the empire's army. The fight was on! Both sides now charged the plains with weapons drawn, screaming the whole way until they met... and that's when the real noise began. Metal on metal clanged and clashed, bodies froze only to be shattered like glass, others burst into flame, the victims either flailing about or rolling to put it out, both being killed by something eventually. Explosions rang across the field, sent by mortars or ki blasts, sometimes meeting in mid air. The dragi forces were spread thin, but holding their own as that's how they had been trained. Still, the sheer number of their enemy soon took its toll, reds and browns were the first to begin to tire. It was always a skilled Mechandor that extinguished their light, though a few of the cadets were getting in lucky blows due to the fatigue.
The chosen herself battled who ever dared pass the perimeter of golds while the platinum was heavily engaged with all six peace keepers in the skies above them. And while the golds, platinum and peace keepers had plenty of energy to go on... she too had started to succumb to weariness. She was in the center of it all... the battle, the valley. Her kin were failing, and the kreshals took note of this. working in tandem, four leaped into the air, took aim, and fired what would be crippling shots her way, this was repeated ten times for good measure. Now ten bolts from each direction tore through the sky towards their intended target.... all of them were blocked by the golds... mostly by ki chi, but the accuracy of the shots had pierced the quickly erected barriers thrown up...
....Two golds hit the ground......their light faded from their eyes as their blood gushed from between them to pool upon the ground where they lay. The other two flew into a rage at the loss of their fallen siblings, and began decimating the forces in front of them, all the while forgetting their charge, and the platinum saw all this and could do nothing. He was fighting for his own life and the peace keepers knew it.
One hit came... then two more... then half a dozen. The chosen fell to her knees, then passed out on the ground beside her. The platinum tried to rush to her side, letting his guard down for a brief instant. It was all the peace keepers needed. A ki blast connected with his back, followed by three more to his head, which subsequently burst like a watermelon. His carcass fell the rest of the way, demoralizing the surviving dragi into dropping their weapons and to their knees in submission when it smeared itself into the plains. The remaining two golds were similarly cut down by the peace keepers, who then bound the marked one and gave the order to slaughter the prisoners...
The empire had won, adding another T'semarril to the Omakron's power supply.