The change of seasons was upon like the return of an old friend, long awaited and never arriving quite soon enough. With coming change brought a time of celebration, as the Great Houses spared no expense, planning through the entire yearly rotation in desperate bids to outdo one another. No expense would be spared as brilliantly colored tapestries and banners were flown from the highest points in the city, each marking the Houses intended territory. Gut filling foods and sultry beverages were brought from the storehouses, and given back to the people in a festival of gluttony the likes of which could not be rivaled throughout the empire. A week long celebration of renewed life and a prosperous winter would culminate in the ultimate spectacle, The March.
Just as inevitable was the change of seasons, so was their appearance at our gates. As the snow and ice melted, a darkness joined the flowing liquid descending from the rocky outcrops and jagged peaks. Every year they crawled from their lairs, every year we marched in an excessive show of force, every year we crushed them in battle sending those left squealing back from where they came. As the week drew to a close the new recruits of the great houses assembled, each adorned in glistening armor, sturdy shields painted in sharp color, blades honed to flesh piercing sharpness. “They’re here!” came the cry from the city battlements as the final celebration thrummed to the pace of thirty thousand soldiers marching from the gates.
The pace quickened as the new recruit’s bloodlust reached a fever pitch. They had been promised battle and intended upon seeing it fulfilled. Sons and daughters of noble houses strode in unison ready to cement their lineage upon the sands beneath their feet. In the city, hundreds of citizens scaled the walls in an attempt to gain a view of the coming sport. Hundreds more flocked to the arena, pressing the normally frowned upon higher seats which now offered the greatest vantage of the spectacle before them. Those brave enough, followed the soldiers onto the field, keeping their safe distance of course.
As the formation of steel took shape, a dark mass rolled into view, the enemy had indeed arrived. A righteous roar bellowed from rolling hills as the soldiers slammed sword upon shield sending fear into the demons hearts. Citizens cheered, pounding anything they could get their hands on against hard surfaces in a plea to raise the volume of their collective voice. Suddenly however, the noise began to dim as the realization set in. The growing horde was not slowing, soon matching the strength of the city forces.
“Mommy I’ve never seen so many,” a small child stated tugging at his mother’s dress.
“Hush child,” the mother said flatly taking the child into her arms, “Our soldiers know what to do”. Try as she might, she could not hide the fear in her voice. Looking around, into the eyes of her neighbors and friends, she saw the same look she assumed her face held itself, she saw fear. Every year they marched, every year they fought, every year they won, but this was different. Each passing rotation revealed the beasts numbering a small thousand strong, a quick task for the new recruits to anoint themselves in bloodshed, a chore really. This rotation, found something else entirely.
The beasts stood thirty thousand strong, where normalcy showed disorganized rabble, this new reality of an organized fighting unit seemed to choke the very air itself. Silence had befallen the city, the crowd, and the battlefield. Eyes squinted for clarity, were the beasts now armored? What sorcery had changed these rituals? Wind swept across the hills, the only sound daring to let itself be known when a sudden roared echoed from the dark mass of bodies, The March had truly begun…