Trellod looked up at the sudden silence around him. Realized he couldn't speak, neither. All round bodies slid off of blades as ten-thousand minds were stilled by a whisper.

Neither side was spared. Her voice had pierced their will in an instant. Sapped them of the strength to resist even before they'd found need. Wordlessly, mind ignoring the missing arm and body feeling it all too well, he turned with the rest of the enthralled to find the source of her voice.

There, in a sea of bodies destroyed by boot and blade alike, gathered five finely dressed Thressadians. Three elves and two identical devils all clad in the miltary blue and black of the Thressad Quintarch, each with their own instrument of death. In sync, the twin devils danced to the front of the group. Icy white braids swirled in a flurry of motion, settling as they strummed their lutes with a flourish.

Bowels voiding, Trellod wept as the front ranks were reduced to a thick red cloud by the wave of force from their first note. Blessedly he could not hear their screams over the ceaseless whine of his demolished eardrums. He fell to his knees gasping as what was left of soldiers he'd known for years -Hells, some for his whole life- softly pattered onto his face like misty rain. The fact that those remains were of his enemies as well held little comfort for Trellod.

The massive human in the back stepped forward and beat a drum Trellod was grateful not to hear. Each beat shattered Trellod's body anew. His last arm broke, then his right leg. On the ground, writhing, his left leg shattered and with it went sensation. Two invisible voices rent the ground beneath his leaking husk, and Trellod died screaming before he reached the fissure's bottom.

*****

As the last body was swallowed by the furious earth, Reis took a moment to reflect on her sins. She didn't like it. Turning to Mathis, she stifled a laugh. The drums had blown his kilt off again! Blushing, he rushed off to find it.

"Strix's sake, Reis," Roledo droned, "Why keep embarrassing him for what he can't control? Those blasts are immense, you know. It's a wonder any of his clothes stay on at all."

Reis liked the way the suns hit Roledo's horns. Gave him the visage of an angelic goat. The goatee didn't hurt that either.

"If you must know Roledo," She sneered over at him, "It keeps me away from my less refined habits like self-reflection and thinking about how easy it would be to slip a knife right up behind those horns."

Ollie guffawed at her brother's expense from where she was piling what few remnants of loot spared by the hungry earth, and Roledo stormed away in a huff. He really doesn't like it when I say I want to kill him. Good. Fear bred respect, her papa had taught her that much at least. She'd let him keep thinking he was in charge for now. Send the Quintarch Tertius the good news. Project Warband was a wild success!