Open Chronicles Expansion

[Zana]

Zana felt a lot more comfortable knowing they were going into battle and the further they walked the more she relaxed. Even the pain from the vision was wearing off and leaving her footfalls light and carefree. In a battle nothing else mattered but the swing of a sword and your enemies screams. It was the playground Zana was built for, not the war room and the careful talks of politics. She listened quietly to Drytail as he explained who their target was going to be with diligence - every detail was filed away carefully in her mind and it was quickly working through the ways in which to undo them.

When they finally came to their destination Zana halted along with the others and swept her keen eyes across the fortress. It was crude. Pathetic really. It would come down with little effort, she thought to herself, and her fingers itched to start her work. There was definitely something more than the boredom and aloofness that had decorated her face mostly until now and when her eyes slid sideways to Ashur she even gave him a genuine smile.

"That was a fun exercise," she returned her gaze to the fort ahead of them. Two Dreadlords to take out an entire town? It seemed rather unfair on the people below. They weren't going to know what hit them.

"And do you want the people alive?" her eyes shifted to Drytail also. If people got in her way it was going to be a lot harder if he insisted on them not dying.

 

[Lord Skavius Drytail]

Lord Drytail squinted through the darkness to the future battleground. The hovels around the fortress were mostly populated by Woodtongue's loyal, but there were enough civilians that he didn't want them all dead. After all, he needed people to rule, people earn him his fortune.

"The Fortress is not necessary, although it would be useful for maintaining control. Likewise, I would enjoy the loyalty of the people here once all is said and done, but war will always have casualties." His teeth chattered again involuntarily as he thought.

"I will say this: use moderation where you are able in regards to the people and the structures, but take any action you deem necessary to secure my victory." His face smiled a wicked smile at the thought of what devastation his newest assets would wreak.

It would be a win for him either way. Either the attack would be surgical and the people would see him as a merciful and fair successor to a brutish warlord, or they would see the indomitable power of his empire as all was turned to dust before him. In both scenarios, he would come out on top.

"Now then, off you go." He was like a child awaiting sweets, and could not wait a moment longer.

 

[Ashur-Kan Luana]

He paused, considering his options. Civilians would be easy, neither Ashur nor Zana held particularly destructive magic and any collateral damage could be fixed with a wave of his hand - literally. The structure before him, however, was the tricky one. Outright destruction - and likely loss of life of the defenders - would be relatively straightforward. His original plan of having Zana dislodge any loose or structurally unsound components had to be shelved.

"In that case, I suggest we use the front entrance. Ania, if you'll follow my lead." Ashur spoke calmly, retrieving a small baton from his side - at the head a single ward and a small protruding blade. The figure ran his finger along the blade, drawing a small droplet of blood and suddenly the ward sprang to life. A blue barrier rippled from the top of the ward extending roughly 2 meters in every direction.

He held it casually - the instrument resembling an umbrella - and begun to walk towards the gate. As the duo approached, projectiles, rocks, even faeces at one point, all bounced harmlessly off his barrier and the pair reached the doors almost undisturbed.

The sound of screaming, shouting, swearing and general exclamations from the defenders quickly filled the area and allowed Ashur-Kan to speak to his comrade without fear of being overheard. "Very well done on the negotiations I must say if there's anything you need or anything you seek please do let me know." He paused for a few moments as - what appeared to be a ballista bolt - wedged itself into the barrier protecting them.

"I noticed your visions cause you significant discomfort, in future please let me know so that I may heal away your pain." He spoke casually as if such a feat were nothing, but his healing prowess was notorious.

"Now, Ania" He winked before continuing. "Would you like to do the honours on the door?"

 

[Zana]

This was definitely a lot more civilised than Zana was used to her missions going. Was it like this with all nobles? In the little umbrella she could almost imagine they were out for an afternoon stroll in some shanty town a little way out of Vel'Anir and she was merely there to guard him. Occasionally as something heavier was thrown towards them Zana would deflect it with a flick of her wrist - she didn't fancy testing just how strong the shielding rune was just yet. Of course, there was her own shielding magic now but Ashur didn't know about that as of yet. Perhaps today would be a good way to let it appear 'naturally'.

His praised warmed her cheeks a little; it was not something she was used to receiving. At least not beyond a nod and grunt of appreciation and a nice bonus in the form of a shiny new sword or bit of armour if she had particularly impressed someone. Once, she had even been given a lovely new race horse which she kept for her days off. She would keep that favour in mind and tucked it away to use for a rainy day. One from the heir was never one to shrug off.

The comment on her visions however caught her completely off guard and her brows pulled down into a frown; he hadn't known? She was about to question it when he asked about the door in front of them.

It was a large thing that looked as if it had once actually been a part of a ship. It was hammered in place with impressive large iron bolts and she could sense the large wooden bolt across the other side of it as her magic began to take hold.

"As you wish," she shifted positions with him so she stood in front of him and then raised her hands and took a deep breath. There as a loud groaning as very slowly the iron screws began to turn and then slide out of place. The door shuddered and then flew forward and up over their heads to land with an ear splintering crash behind them. The bolts dropped down on the ground in a much more muted hush.

"You didn't... know about the link between visions and pain?" Zana bit her lip. Perhaps now wasn't the time to discuss it but for the first time she wondered whether he knew about what his father had ordered to happen to her to get all those tidbits of information that had helped the house over the years.

 

[Lord Skavius Drytail]

The rous that were gathered visibly withdrew as Ashur produced his shining umbrella. Drytail himself stood firm, but his tiny eyes had popped open wide and his jaw loosened just a hair. The pair of them strode through the hovels with nary a care to the projectiles being lobbed at them. Indeed, Woodtongue's people seemed entirely focused on the pair, and better yet, they were obviously completely unequipped to deal with them.

"Well?? Get in there and clean up!" The lord barked to the contingency of loosely-gathered soldiers. They hopped to attention and stole away behind the Anirians. With the defenders distracted, it would be easy to swoop in and slaughter them from behind.

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"Intruders sir, we thinks it's Drytail. He's here." A small, wrinkled creature had come into a dim and lop-sided room within the tower.

"Foolish," answered a taller and clearly human man. He stood behind a modest table, and next to him in a large chair sat a much smaller man. The tall man was ordinary enough, with a strong jaw and pleasing voice. The other was... grotesque. He was stunted and balding, with one eye much larger than the other and a jaw that looked rather lumpy and enlarged.

"He will never pass through the barricades much less breech the tower." Continued the fine-looking man.

"That's just it, sir, his soldiers is at the door. Well... two of'em." The goblin confessed, looking frightened at the news he was delivering. The short man sat up straight and looked pointedly at his taller companion, who had become quite confused.

"Two? Why haven't we killed them yet? We can deal with two soldiers."

"They've magic, sir. They ain't rous, wearin' fancy armors they is and makin' great flashy lights." The thud of Zana dropping the door reverberated through the building. "That'll be dem." Said the goblin.

"Recall the soldiers, defend the fortress! We have your personal bodyguards here, sir, no one can get to you."

The shorter man looked worried.

 

[Ashur-Kan Luana]

"No, I believe no one thought to inform me." His eyes narrowed towards Zana and a scowl crossed his face. Ashur-Kahn was a man who prided himself on being intelligent, on being forward-thinking and able to adapt to situations. However, to be all of those things required those closest to him to keep him informed. There would be consequences, he would be talking to his father whom he suspected to be at the root of this.

As the door buckled before them. Ashur shifted the barrier directly in front of them, protecting the duo from the immediate barrage that answered the sieging of the door. A quick glance behind himself showed that Drytail had ordered his troops in and he quickly clocked his troops preparing themselves to raid the fortress.

"We have 30 seconds - roughly - before Drytail's men get here to clean up. Let's try to give them a show, remind them why they entered an agreement with us." He grinned calmly, then dashed his barrier to the ground. The tool fizzled, deprived of its power source, and became inert.

Ashur's body was a blur. His Khopesh spun into his hand within seconds and almost immediately he was upon one of the clueless defenders. The weapon - forged of the finest dwarven metal - split the man in two and he did not falter. His whole life he had dedicated daily time to improving his martial skills. He was prepared for moments like this.

His Khopesh - unfamiliar and exotic - curved neatly around the weapons of the defenders and mortally impaled those who sought to parry, defend, or otherwise block his fierce blows. Occasionally, the odd blow would glance upon Ashur - yet a small burst of white magic would erupt in response, healing the blow immediately. Even the most superficial glances, bruises, cuts did not escape his magic's reach.

 

[Zana]

Zana was not sure how to deal with that information. She had assumed he was like his father and had thought her suffering was for the good of Luana and the people. Perhaps there was... change coming to the House. Perhaps Eva had been wrong and Luana would in fact truly one day be the House of the people. The information gave her a lot to mull over as she followed him at a much calmer pace.

There was only one brave lad, or perhaps idiot, who mistook Zana's lack of weapon as an invitation. As he ran at her the sword he swung turned on its master and impaled itself in his stomach. He dropped to the floor in shock.

The large iron screws which had been holding the door up now flew past her, disturbing her hair with their speed, and skewered eight unfortunate men against the wall. She swept bored eyes over the others near her who hesitated nervously.

"A mistake," she said coldly as their armour began to tear them apart.

 

[Lord Skavius Drytail]

The rous soldiers were making short work of the enemies that were left behind. Those that were not killed or captured began to flee, and for the time being Drytail was content to let them go. There was nowhere to run anymore, soon he would control all the tunnels in the area. Perhaps some of them could be new recruits, it remained to be seen. What civilians had been in these slums were shut inside their homes.

Woodtongue's men were not faring well against the Anirians. More highly trained men in more impressive armor began to move down the steps. There were even some that bore symbols of different mercenary groups. Whether the person beneath the armor was truly a member or had just stolen the armor was up for debate, but they definitely seemed more like they knew what they were doing.

Crossbow bolts began to fly at the pair from around tight corners, and there would be no shortage of traps laid as they ascended the lopsided staircases.

 

[Ashur-Kan Luana]

Ashur glanced around at the chaos that unfolded before him. Woodtongue's men collapsed easily at the assault and Drytail's own men seemed more skilled and capable than the heir had given them credit for. He found a renewed interest regarding his new ally, the constant surprises helped to reassure him his decision had been worthwhile.

As his khopesh plunged through the heart of another defender, Ashur turned to see some mercenaries storm down the staircase. It didn't take a genius to work out the elite troops had arrived. He grinned, eager to fight someone who might actually put up a challenge.

The Dreadlord issued a piercing whistle, which easily rose up above the deafening din of battle. A coded message, intended for his comrade.

"Mage ahead, Engage." He nodded towards a figure set back from the rest of the mercenaries, few armaments and very little armour. Ashur could sense the magic radiating from her and, suddenly, a bolt of lightning shot forth and immolated several of Drytail's men.

Ashur, ignoring the new mage, leapt forward. Plucking a second weapon from a recently fallen foe, he charged towards the mercenaries. He had decided - and probably much to Zana's dismay - to be the distraction, while she dealt with the new target.

 

[Zana]

Zana's head snapped up from where she had been crushing the heel of her boot quite literally into the throat of one of the rous who had decided to side with their enemy. His eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out from sheer relief as she removed her foot and began to walk in the direction of the mage. The two women's eyes met across the room and the lightning suddenly came arching towards her.

"Mistake," Zana said almost lazily as crackling purple energy rose up in front of her to form a solid wall. The lightning hit the heart of it and went sparking in different directions causing the opposing mage to growl in frustration. Her second hand came up in an attempt to fire another bolt towards her but Zana was ready. The purple energy encroached on her eyes as the shield held for the second strike and then dispersed, turning into sharp spears of pure energy then hurling themselves towards the woman. Along their stems carried back the lightning she had thrown at Zana.

The woman's eyes widened as she dived out of the way and the spears went thundering into several of the helpless soldiers not quick enough behind her.

 

[Lord Skavius Drytail]

The sounds of the battle rocked the haphazard tower to its poorly-designed core. Lightning strikes collided with a metal wall panel, and two nearby combatants were struck by the discharge. Drytail could see the lights flashing from outside as he walked up the "main" street (truly just the largest path between hovels). He was flanked by his personal body guards, but there was little threat to him now. All of Woodtongue's forces were either dead or within the tower soon to be dead.

The rat lord's face was filled with a dark satisfaction. He had never witnessed such power firsthand, and it pleased him greatly to have been able to wield it... in a fashion. The price he had paid for this aid had been negligible, compared to the benefits. Only a small hint of doubt remained in his mind as he walked forwards. While the Dreadlord's display was marvelous, he was well aware that this was the work of only two. He would need to be vigilant in his dealings with these people, for the destruction that they could bring upon him was terrible, and he would need to give them no reason to do so.

He had a bodyguard hand him his blade and he set it on the ground in front of him, using it to lean on. He wanted to look imposing when Woodtongue was brought sniveling from his hiding hole. It should not be long now.

Indeed, the small misshapen man had leapt off of his chair in his saferoom, and the taller man was attempting to fit his employer into a custom set of armor. It was golden (although some pieces had clearly been painted to appear so), and fit more or less. His head, however, was too large to accommodate a helmet.

"Huey upf!" Woodtongue said with great effort. His jaw was so swollen that it could hardly move, and his tongue, true to his name, seemed unable to bend. "Theyl bwe hewe thoon!" The goblin servant was fussing with a leather strap on the breastplate. "Ithsa doow theel'd?"

"Yes, my lord, the door is sealed. When they come close we will break the jars."

Several large glass jars of green liquid lined the hallway just outside Woodtongue's saferoom. The guards outside the door had tight-fitting masks and were armed with crossbows. When the attackers came up the stairs they would shatter the jars and release the poisonous gas within. Many of his own soldiers would die, but Woodtongue was sure he would be safe. Even if some gas made it in, his first lieutenant here carried the antidote vial.

 

[Ashur-Kan Luana]

Ashur-Kahn enjoyed a dance, and to him, that was what this foray in combat was. Every day of his life, he trained for moments like this. Every day in his life, he suppressed his rage, anger and annoyance so that - outwardly at least - he could appear the better person. A saint, almost, among his people. Moments like these, the intricate workings, stances, footwork and flourishes, helped to unravel all that. It put him at ease. Though his body twirled like a dervish, though he moved silently and though he possessed nought but kind features on an unremarkable body, the man was death personified. Everything about him screamed violence.

The men he fought knew it. The men who witnessed him knew it. Those he killed experienced it. The incessant whistling from his khopesh - made from the finest materials money could buy - as it sliced through the air never ceased. The clang as his own sword, or armour, turned blades and weapons from his body. Topped with the occasional hiss and burst of light that followed whenever he was struck.

The first man of the mercenary company over-extended. Cocky and arrogant from the odds of 10 men on one, he lunged before his peers. His grin never faltered, even as his head rolled from his shoulders. The second and third combatants were eager and baying for blood, they attacked in sync with one another. Ashur, easily one might say, parried the first blow with his off-hand sword and neatly blocked the other strike.

His khopesh pivoted, tip piercing through the collar of the assailant. He buckled and screamed as the oft-hand blade punched a hole through his gut. Ashur threw the bulk of the assailant onto his comrade, then plunged his fine sword through the first one and out the back of his, now off-kilter and distracted, kin.

His own magic kept him invigorated. The Dreadlord did not tire. The Dreadlord did not slow. With each subsequent wave, the mercenaries gave ground. With each wave, they lost. Soon, the last man fell, and Ashur stood calmly in a sea of blood - otherwise immaculate and untarnished.

He knew Zana could handle the mage and so, he waited, he watched. Awaiting her task to be complete, before they furthered their advance.

 

[Zana]

People were falling over themselves to get out of the way of the two women as they fought. Zana deflected one bolt of lightning sending it into a row of houses to her left with barely a twitch in her expression. They went up in flames and people fled screaming. The mage screamed in frustration and then her strongest bolts yet surged towards the Dreadlord. It was a quick strike and it looked as if it had hit Zana for the briefest of moments as her shoulder reeled back. The other woman even gave a small shout of success. However, as Zana straightened her fingers were crackling with purple energy that held within it the lightning she had thrown at her. The woman took a step back, turned as if she intended to flee as Zana sent it shooting back towards her.

The mage was dead before she hit the floor, the electrical current running over her form even in death.

The men that were left dropped their arms and ran.

"Interesting magic," Zana complimented as she stepped over the corpse and joined Ashur. "Not a technique I recognised immediately," which meant she hadn't been trained anywhere near Vel'Anir. It hadn't felt like anything from Elbion either but further East.

 

[Lord Skavius Drytail]

The soldiers were not faring well, and Drytail could hear the conflict begin to quiet as their numbers dwindled. He was pleased that the majority of the tower remained intact, of course he had expected to redo much of the interior. Even conventional weaponry would cause much damage.

Woodtongue and his companions, along with two heavily armored bodyguards, were sealed in his main room upstairs. Four elite soldiers guarded the hall, but the majority of his home forces had been defeated.

The goblin was scribbling out a letter to be delivered by carrier bat to the men they had sent to engage Drytail’s main force, but they would not return in time. By the time the letter reached the commanders it would be over, and they would likely find themselves under new employment.

The poisoned jars were ready to go, all that remained was for the dreadlords to ascend. A small group of Rous soldiers now joined them, having finished clearing the outside town.

Drytail began rehearsing his victory speech in his head.

 

[Ashur-Kan Luana]

Ashur smelled and tasted a funny scent in the air. Amongst the wanton death and destruction was something else. Something different, almost tangy. He shrugged, strutting forward casually, two swords hanging idly at his side as he made a move up towards the stairs.

As the Dreadlord turned the corner, arrows flew and the heir grinned as each one seemed to conveniently miss his location.

His relief was shortlived, to say the least. A shattering was heard, Ashur soon recognised the masks the guards before him held were not simply helmets - they were sealed. He cursed himself, glancing behind and above his position to confirm his fears.

Poison. Stores of the stuff hanging precariously above the entrance, now shattered and spewing noxious fumes from the crossbow bolts. He held his breath, gesturing towards the flanking Drytail men and Zana.

"HOLD YOUR BREATH" He bellowed as green smog slowly seeped down around the group, a brief whistle from himself ordered Zana to deal with the guards.

Ashur inhaled. Deeply. He could feel the poison wreaking havoc with his respiratory system, he could feel the chemical burns. Yet he needed to infect himself, the poison was unfamiliar and the mage needed to know how to treat it.

He grimaced, wafting his hand towards Zana first. Pure white light enveloped his comrade, healing her of any damage, restoring her strength, and providing a feeling of almost bliss.

It was a temporary respite, but he needed a few moments to counteract the poison.

Ashur ducked behind the corner, still inhaling and exhaling the poison as if it were harmless. The cogs on in his brain turned as he tried to familiarise himself with the chemical.

 

[Zana]

Zana really wished he didn't go ahead. It was quite hard trying to protect him from behind but the arrows moved where she directed them as she jogged after him. The rest of the men could deal with any leftovers, she neither had the time nor the patience for such pathetic excuses of soldiers. It was a waste of her time. When one tried to jump out of the shadows at her with a blood curdling scream she didn't so much as look up. The scarf he wore about his neck twisted and from the air he hung, legs kicking violently until he slowly went slack.

Ashur's warning snapped her focus off of the arrows that were shooting towards them and instead of reflecting she switched magics. Purple energy swept over her and the men behind in an attempt to keep the worst of the poison gas out. Even so, some of it was trapped within the bubble whilst she tried to purge it. It would take a few moments which required focus as it was, let alone when the poison was clawing down her throat.

Her back pressed against the wall and her hand came up to her chest. Spells tumbled through her mind, searching for something that would---

Relief. Air. Suddenly her lungs were clear and she noticed the healing magic Ashur possessed sweep through her. She nodded her thanks and turned her attention to purging the air within her defensive bubble. Soon the men stopped coughing and cast her thankful looks as they stood up. Most of them would need Ashur's assistance to properly heal but they would not fall straight away at least.

Slowly she ducked her head around the corner to where the men in masks were stalking towards them and her lips pursed. Throwing out a hand, as if it came from the purple shield itself strikes of lightning shot towards the foes.

 

[Lord Skavius Drytail]

The masked guards looked pleased with their work as the gas spilled out. The eerie haze struck their enemies, and for a moment they thought they had won outright. Surely no matter how well trained or how powerful these warriors were, they could not defy their own biology.

Apparently, they could. The man with the strange sword breathed freely, and soon the woman who followed enclosed herself in some sort of glowing bubble. The heavily armored men had begun walking forwards, prepared for a clean sweep of the dying and retching enemies that the gas usually produced. They found no such battle.

Instead, they were struck by purple lightning, much the same as that mage woman had been using. What was her name, Tiffany? Yes, it was probably something like that. They fell to the ground, killed instantly.

The gas was still filling much of the hall, and the small enclosed hallways meant it would not dissipate quickly. However, there was now only a lone masked guard between the dreadlords and Woodtongue, and he simply let his weapon fall. He sat down against the wall, and held his hands in the air, indicating that he'd much rather not die today, and that Zana and Ashur could carry on as they pleased.

A few rous came choking out of the building, those that had been too far behind to be shielded by Zana, but too close to the gas to avoid its effects. They clawed at their throats and fell to the ground wheezing, and where quickly removed by Drytail's other men.

A small price to pay.

Woodtongue, the tall man, the goblin, and the two heavily armored guards that remained in the sealed room could not tell what was happening beyond the door, but they noted that it had gone rather more quiet than before.