Avatar the Black moon Saga

The town bells had been ringing nonstop the moment the sun had set in favor of the moon.

A full moon. And that could only mean one thing.

A water tribe raid.

The men of Isija cove watched and waited by the shoreline, knowing the enemy they hated would be here soon. Most of the town guards and mercenaries sent to protect them had already fled rather than fight, thinking they weren't getting paid enough for this. And so now the task to defend their homes fell to peasants alone as usual.

Any man brave and fit enough was passed anything that resembled some sort of weapon. Farming Scythes, butchers knives, pitchforks, even fishing rods. These were men of timber, of farming and fishing and hunting, not men of war. But tonight any man who could fight would have to become a soldier. Young or old. It didn't matter. They all had something to loose. They had to buy as much time for their families to flee into the nearby mountains as possible. And so they stayed. They prepared. 

What few earth benders among them heaved and grunted as they hastily dug channels of trenches into the sand, sweat and condensation from the warm fog running down their forehead as they buried their hands deeper and deeper in the dirt in desperate preparation, trusting in their native element to be their salvation. But before they had even finished, a rain of a thousand swift icicles fell upon the defenders like frigid needle sharp javelins. Men were cut down and impaled where they stood, while others ducked desperately behind earth walls the earthbenders had shot up for cover with their clenched fists for themselves and their friends just in time. The time for preparation was already past. All they could do now was sit and wait as ice shattered around them.. Waiting was always the worst part.

The raiders appeared like phantoms from the sea in their skeletal whalebone longship. Emerging one after another out of a creeping manufactured fog that obscured their true numbers until it was far too late. The sound of drum beats in perfect drilled synch to the waterbenders movements as they pushed and pulled the tide apart effortlessly to allow their approach. They did not need rowers or wind in appeasing a crossing to the sea. They bent it to their very will. The nonbender warriors among them grew eager and impatient from the long voyage, banging on their hide shields with their clubs and yelling war cries eager to be the first ashore and make first claim to whatever they could get their hands on.

Almost lazily the ships made landfall, the vessels slowly gliding to a halt like beached whales atop the sand while their protective obscuring mist continued past toward the village itself, engulfing the entire town and its defenders in its thick haze, swallowing each of them up, already certain in it's victory. The fog spread everywhere. Seeping under every doorway, into every barn, every stable, every home to confuse and frighten every man as they lost sight of their comrades just out of reach around them. The shouted to their friends and neighbors who they had known for years, panicking as they lost sight of them. They would never see their faces again.

The assault began.

The water benders leaped from the sides of their ships and rushed ashore walking on paths of ice under their feet wailing deathly war cries that sounded more like wolves then men. They were dressed like wild animals. Donned in blue and white war paint and clothed in the white skinned furs from various predators meant to invoke in each a courage and savagery of the animal whose skin they now slipped as easily into as they had this towns pathetic defenses. A few raiders sank and were swallowed up in quick sand traps or crushed beneath well placed flying boulders. But it wouldn't be enough. They knew they would win this fight. 

They always did.

The pack swarmed the shoreline with murder in their cold blue eyes and clubs, spears, and axes of chiseled bone gripped tightly in their hands. The full moon empowering the bravest benders among them to lead the charge, forming bridges and staircases of ice to allow their comrades to follow them over the defenses before leaping headfirst into the trenches to slaughter the farmers in brutal close quarters combat. The two sides met in a bloody clash of water and earth, arrows, and ice as the walls were either shattered or toppled. Boys and men screamed. Weapons collided and shattered against the ground. These raiders darkest and most violent means of torture imaginable being richly indulged. But in a matter of minutes, it was all over and the line was easily overrun and turned into a route. It was a slaughter, not really a battle. Any man who had made the mistake of staying were either slaughtered or frozen right where they stood in caskets of ice and left to helplessly watch until they ran out of air or froze to death as the invaders then began to pillage, burn, and loot what they pleased once again in the vicious cycle that had repeated itself every month since the avatar had died for fourteen years unopposed..

And with no end in sight it seemed.

The raiders searched everywhere but seemed discontent with what meager pickings they had found and collected into a pile in the village center. Pots, pans, sacks of wheat. Worthless. There had to be more.

A few water tribe trackers found prints leading into the woods and despite orders to stay near the shore gave chase atop their mounts. A few families hiding in fields and behind trees fit only to be ridden down were soon captured by men riding atop saber tooth wolf tigers and yak bulls and tied and gagged to their saddles. They had all been moving toward somewhere. Somewhere they thought was safe.

Fools. They were leading them right to the others.

After half an hour of riding, a group of water tribe riders broke off to a halt at a simplistic temple shrine whose gates were firmly shut and locked to them. it looked little of value and was meager pickings from outside appearance. Windchimes swayed and clanked more intently in the breeze as they hung from the doorway, as if sensing the conflict that was about to come to these steps.

Hand over the villagers air nomad! bellowed one of the raiders from across the gravel pathway atop his hoofed steed, huffing and snorting impatiently. These Airbenders set up temples anywhere it pleased them and were a nuisance at best for their persistence in offering aid to families and villages they raided. This time however. They were a problem he and the other could not ignore.

Slowly, the heavy wooden doors of the temple parted open to reveal five diminutive bald monks in orange and yellow robes, the oldest in front leaning against a wooden staff for support with a thick white beard reaching down to his stomach. The years had made him withered and his blue arrow tattoos dulled in their vibrancy. But kayungs devotion and commitment to serving others and defending this shrine as strong as it had been in his youth.

You have no business here said the old monk in front standing firmly in the creatures path with his students behind him. This is a sacred place of peace and shelter for those who have need of it. I must ask you all leave immediately. Enough blood has been shed this sad day. The elder kayung said looking at the burning houses by the shore below in the distance mournfully. These are but widows and orphans now. You have done far enough damage already. Must you ensure the wrath of the spirits upon your dammed souls further?

We're just getting started old man. the warrior said jubilantly, his comrades laughing at the superstitious nature of these traveling air headed beggars. We know you have treasures and people stashed in there. Now stand aside..... he said pointing his spear at the foolish monk standing in his way of enrichment and pleasure ready to run him down if he gave him an answer he didn't like.

...Or die.

The air nomads didn't bargain, they didn't flee. Despite being sworn to peace and remaining neautral jing in all matters. They made a choice. They would fight for those who now depended upon them for safety inside their hallowed halls. To turn them over after promising no harm would come to them was unthinkable.

The five monks raised their staves in defiance. And as one combined front slammed them to the ground, sending shock waves of wind to blow many of the raiders off their steeds or tumbling back down the hill to be crushed under the weight of their animals. The monks and raiders fought on the gravel pathway leading to the temple before the battle made its way inside the halls of the temple itself. Familes hidden in the basement below could hear the sound of wind blasts and slashing water as one by one the brave spiritual men were slain until only the elder remained bloodied and beaten. The surviving raiders broke through and stole all that they thought belonged to them before leaving the sacred temple to burn behind them bitterly with the corpse of the old man dragged naked back to the ships in chains through the dirt as a joke hitting every rock and tree until he as nothing but a bloody mess. Not knowing the wrath such an act would incur on them. Or perhaps not caring.

The next morning, the islands' earth garrison arrived in the vain hope of finally being able to reinforce a town or catch the invaders off guard. But as per usual. He was far too late. 

They were all long gone by the time they arrived. Just like ghosts. The had fled as if they had never been there at all. Back into that sanctity of the sea they called home. Eagerly awaiting their return next month and counting the seconds before they could to do it all over again.

As Sergeant Jaijo stood enraged atop his ostrich horse surveying the blackened and burnt town from atop a hill, green flag waving behind him of what he felt was an inept and useless army he could only ask himself. How many have we failed this time? He had marched his island garrison through the night upon hearing of the frantic messenger's report given by a brave out of breath air monk by the name of Guon who had raced faster than the wind to bring this dire news, saying that the nearby village was being attacked and that he and his brothers couldn't just stand by and do nothing. Jaijo had once prayed to the spirits that just once they could intercept these cursed water tribe demons. Just once they could succeed and save a few lives. But every time. Nothing left but ashes and smoke to mock him and his exhausted soldiers.

He no longer prayed for anything of any sort. The Earth king never answered his calls for aid, so why should the spirits do the same? If they were reduced to asking kindhearted yet soft natured monks for additional protection, what chance had they of any real victory?

He ordered his men to survey the town and check under the rubble in somber silence for someone. Anyone. But there was nothing. Not a soul in sight apart from the brave dead volunteers who had died on the beaches defending their homes and families or been unlucky enough to face a slow painful death of being encased in ice and left to freeze and watch as their lives were stolen before their eyes. Their courage amounting to nothing more than their houses being burned and looted the same as every other in years past. Their families kidnapped and ferried off like cattle. The Raiders never left anything of value behind. Even the town bell which had stood for over three hundred years had been stolen. Likely to be smelted down and reformed into more weapons of war.

Why won't the earth king send us the men and ships we need to defend our homes? Jaijo cursed to himself. He has abandoned us. His loyal subjects were left to the mercy of murderers. 

 The garrison searched for another hour but the results were as expected. No fishermen, no shipbuilders, no young or old. No laughing children or livestock or pets of any kind. The entire village. Had simply vanished into the night along with their captors. Leaving behind nothing but a blackened husk of a home and lone air monk saying a silent prayer with tears in his eyes for all the souls who had been lost. Watching the air temple in the distance, now robbed completely of life and left to burn atop the hill overlooking the sunrise of a new dawn...

Now they were just counting the days until the next raid. That was how time was measured these days. Every day was precious. For you never knew what tomorrow would bring. If you were lucky to see it at all.