Quest Invasion of Dhunbor

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Vyx'aria

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OOC:Drow Invasion of the Dwarf city Dhunbor in the Underrealm. Thread is open to anyone on either side!

Vyx had been searching for the Duergar city for a long time now. She was still processing the fact that she was named Queen of Zar'Ahal, though nothing changed for now. She was prepared this time, and she brought with her a company of drow. It was comprised of archers, infantry and beast riders that were already marching in formation. Zathria had been tasked with commanding the siege units - always a risky move in the Underrealm.

She fell into step beside Zathria, a foreign scent hitting her nostrils as they approached the city. Scouts had been sent ahead to scope out the city, and they were clearly not expecting an approach. The drow had been silent for a very long time, likely the biggest factor in why Maelzafen had abandoned them.

Vyx’s jaw tightened as she thought about the events that had transpired - the unfortunate circumstances that thrust her into power. She hadn’t prepared for it, and she hadn’t wanted it. Her people were fragmented, and nothing would unite them unless they had a vision for expansion.

“With any luck we will have minimal loss of lives before they yield,” Vyx said curtly as she walked. Her twin blades were already in her hands, and she mulled over her options.

“We need the eastern tunnels blocked so they can’t run further into the Underrealm,” Vyx was prepared to offer them a peaceful surrender on numbers alone, but if that didn’t work, they would begin an invasion from the north gates.

As they began their approach, Vyx could see towers lining the sides of the path that led into the city. There were bridges that extended above a lake of lava, and she knew it was going to be difficult to break into the inner sanctums of the city.

“We need to be prepared to have them use the terrain against us,” Vyx said with a grimace as she reached up and popped her helmet on.
 
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Xunari hadn't replaced her arm but she was wearing armour that disguised that fact, with the right arm and gauntlet being posed resting against her side. It was, as expected, covered in runes that would allow her to animate it should she require it later in the battle.

There was always a later when it came to battles such as this in her experience.

As they approached she listened to Vyx'aria, the acting general and leader of their people. She wasn't quite the Queen yet but as far as options went she was probably the best. Xunari's family had tried to pressure her to go for the 'top job' but she had declined.

She had far too much work to take up politics.

"I shall take and hold the eastern tunnels."
She volunteered with a wave of her hand, "I'll reinforce it as much as I can before taking my troops and pushing in front that direction once it is secure."

It would be a good way for them to fallback if things went as badly as they could go.

"Other than accepting surrender... any other rules of engagement? Blood magic?"


Had to ask these questions now rather than AFTER there were a bunch of dead prisoners.
 
Zathria walked along at the front of the army: an impressive array of equipment and soldiers as Vyx'aria fell into step beside her. She could feel the tension in her friend's stride. It wasn't the tension that set in before a battle, but the tension that came with the precarious position that the Gener - no, the queen - now found herself in.

"With any luck." Zathria didn't count on luck. Luck seemed to have abandoned them as of late just as much as their goddess. But they didn't need Zathria's pessimism right now. She knew how she was - cynical and pessimistic at the best of times - and she knew when thoughts like that were better kept in mind rather than voiced. But planning for those worst of scenarios was what made her a successful military commander.

Taking whatever we can alive will be more beneficial, she nodded in agreement. They wanted assets, not just dead bodies, and that had been made abundantly clear to Zathria. Wars were won and lost in assets and supplies as much as on the front lines.

The marching of soldiers and rolling of wheels behind them echoed down the corridor, and Zathria began to review their assets once again.

One battalion of drow soldiers. Six hundred and sixty soldiers strong, comprised of four companies. This would be the most valuable portion of the army by far. It was the backbone of the army: a mix of male and female drow trained in warfare. A mix of swords, javelins, bows, poisoned handbows, and shields offered a diverse array of weapons and tools for the battle.

Two companies of slaves. At three hundred and thirty strong, these slaves were the force that would perform the least savory actions. Borderline suicidal tasks in combat such as placing siege bridges, manning battering rams, and placing siege ladders were often left to these "soldiers." Although overtly stating that these tasks were borderline suicide was, of course, never uttered, all the officers certain knew it. Hope for freedom or success kept them in line. Hope and numbing fear of the slow death that awaited those who even thought of rebelling.

A platoon of dedicated mages. Although magic was common among many of the soldiers, those who practiced magic in a dedicated fashion as battlemages were still a relatively scarce commodity. Nevertheless, Zathria had absolutely no doubt that the forty dedicated mages in the platoon would have a critical impact on the outcome of the battle. No doubt some of the less fortunate slaves would "vanish" during the battle to feed the spells summoned by the terrifying magic wielders.

And a siege company. The last one hundred and sixty-five soldiers were devoted to manning the siege equipment that had rolled out of Zar'Ahal: twenty ballistae, four siege towers, two battering rams, four heavy bridges, a dozen light bridges, a dozen siege ladders, eight catapults, and eight enslaved trolls.

Will a squad of mages, a company of soldiers, and two platoons of slaves suffice for the eastern tunnel? Zathria suggested after Xunari volunteered to take the eastern route. Eleven mages, one hundred and sixty-five soldiers, and eighty slaves should theoretically be enough to hold the eastern tunnels while the main gates were assaulted. Of course, there were no guarantees in war.

Zathria nodded to the queen's final words.

They'll retract or dump the bridges. We'll need to bring down, burn down, or ransack the guard towers first, she said. She knew that the alarm would go up regardless of what they did, but the army couldn't pass under arrows and attack from the flank and behind while trying to march on the walls.

The lava moat was what worried Zathria most. She would have preferred to have four times as many light and heavy bridges to make it to the city walls, but that just hadn't been feasible in their timeframe. They would have to make due and hope that the bridges weren't destroyed in the course of the attack. That was, unless they could find a way to salvage the bridges that the duergar were likely to try to retract or destroy.

The hunt was afoot, and Zathria could feel her heart begin to quicken. The cold spikes of adrenaline began to suffuse her arms and legs and she remembered once more that in many ways, this was where she felt most at home. She ran one more check over her gear. Armor, bow, swords, knives, she thought as she eased the bow from her back. All was right where it should be. Everything was as it should be.
 
Quiggy scampered through the lines of warriors preparing to attack the Guergar city, picking a pocket here, tossing some dung into a boot there, having fun and spreading mischief everywhere. She was no warrior, she didn't much care for conquest or high ideals. But she couldn't resist the opportunity to slip into the Dhunbor and steal some bread. She had heard their bakers were particularly skilled, their bakeries stacked with the most exquisite wares. She could not let slip an opportunity like that, specially if she would have an entire army's worth of pockets to pick along the way.

She wasn't the only thief among the tag-alongs following the army, but she was one of the more foolhardy ones. The assault was about to begin, but here she was right near the frontlines. Everyone was on edge, their focus on the enemy up ahead, on the rivers of lava, on the machines of war, on keeping themselves alive. No one would notice a tiny goblin scuttering about underfoot. There was the risk involved with getting stabbed, or stamped on, or even getting hit by an arrow. But that risk just made it more fun.

"Elvesies, dwarfsies," she sang softly to herself as she moved towards the very front of the army, "smelly trolls! Fighting next to burning shores! Stab them, hack them, till they're dead. Coins in pocket, rings on heads, all are mine to buy some bread!"​
 
Half-horn plodded along with rest of the army at the very front. He had never seen so many drow, but to be honest, he thought them died until some of them came around to hire him, as long as willing to pay he would fight for them, though he was a bit reserved going to under realm, he didn't know if his goal could go rach Tor Unaim through the thick rock above him, he didn't plan to find out.

he did get some funny looks from the drow, not unexpected most 'civilised' lands gave him the same look and elves were always pompous pricks, he guessed drow were no different from there surface brethren, can't recognise over 7 feet of peak performance when it was staring them right in the face.

“where do you want me?” he asked the one's that seemed to be a charge of the whole operation, not caring formalities, all they had to do is point him in a direction with an objective and he'll do it.
 
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The air was alight with the energy of hundreds of women and men, standing strong in the cavernous underground as they stared down the city of Dhunbor as lava glowed upon its walls and buildings with a brilliant orange hue. Bridges extended over lakes of molten rock, lined with towers filled with archers and ballistae.

To conquer the city in its entirety would require the death of many of their lives, to the striking of blows or to the burning depths below them. The Duergar army was well trained, sharpened like a treasured sword. They will not fall easily, not within the depths of their very citadel. Victory would require cunning as much as strength.

Defeat would only lead the Drow closer to their fracturing. A fate that the Queen had sworn never to let see occur. Surrender was possible, for their numbers were great. Yet the dwarves were a stubborn race, and such a hope is never to be taken for truth. They would be prepared for whatever may come, be it peace or war.

Lythrani stood at the head of the army, lingering beside Vyx'aria. "My Queen, my hands and eyes within the city are ready for your orders when you give them." After all, a spymaster was nothing without her spies. What had once been a passive infiltration operation escalated into intensive preparations for the oncoming conquest for expansion, and a silent network of agents remained within the city. Though there was only a small number so as not to arouse suspicion, they held enough of a position within Dhunbor to potentially destabilize the city's defenses or alert the Drow army to any enemy movements.

"As for your call for surrender, it can be amplified across Dhunbor so all can hear of our mercy," she added, her hands weaving through the air as if to use her magic. It could serve as a message to be broadcast—but also a tool of intimidation, to hear a booming voice behind your walls.

The dark elven women parted her lips to speak once again, only to be halted by a certain set of grubby hands by a rather musical goblin. Her hand immediately went to grab the hand of Quiggy, her measured expression carrying with a glare of annoyance. "Goblin, do you not think your services are better spent not on the front lines? And your hands better kept to yourself, not other's pockets?"

Oddly enough, it didn't sound like a question.
 
Salazar had thought it was beyond time he ventured into the Underrealm. He had been impersonating a Drow for so long, it was due time he explored their home and learned of their lands.

"Great timing," he thought to himself as he came upon a mass Dark Elf army. He had never seen something so massive as this. Granted, he had never really seen a true army before, but he knew this was impressive regardless. "This could be pretty fun. I should have visited this place ages ago. They know how to party!"

He followed behind the army, always staying in the shadows. He knew he wanted to be a part of whatever was about to happen. He just had to be sure to pick the right side. For Salazar, the right side was the winning side, so he just had to figure out the best play. As the legion arrived at what he assumed was their muster station before the big battle, he could see a large under earth city in the distance. It was a grand place, with sturdy walls and bridges over... is that lava?!

He could tell the city's defenses were something to be feared. He wondered if these guys even had a chance.
"If those towers drop their bridges, these guys are in real trouble. It will be that much harder to get people across, and that moat looks a bit too warm for my taste"

Salazar thought on this for a while. He could easily leave them to their devices. No skin off his wings, and it wasn't like him to side with the underdog. He thought he heard some singing off in the distance. The sound was funny, yet almost inspiring. The idea of someone keeping merry before what will obviously be their death. "What the hell? There's no fun in a one-sided battle"

Salazar knew if he could incapacitate the bridge tower guards, the bridges would remain in place. So off he went. Keeping on the outskirts of the great battalion, he snuck from rock to rock. Nearing the lava river, feeling the immense heat get more and more intolerable. "What am I doing??"
 
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Hulgor Bonebuster was sharpening his axe when reports came of a drow party upon his doorsteps. He didn’t react at first, chiseling the edge of the blade as sparks began to fly. He paused only to reach for the pipe he had been smoking, inhaling deeply before blowing out a puff of thick smoke.

“‘Bout damn time those little fairies showed up,” He rose to stand then, swinging the great axe around and resting it on his shoulder. His thick, white beard fell to his chest. He was already adorned in armor, and there was a glint in his eye.

“Tell everyone to get to their stations!” He said as he put the pipe away and put on his helmet. There was no fear in his eyes and surrender didn’t even begin to cross his mind. He paused for a moment before he left his quarters, only to glance down and run his thumb over a very shiny ring on his finger.

“Zharr protect us,” He muttered before he grabbed the horn of his ancestors and blew into it. It was a deep, booming sound that would echo throughout the entire city.

And it would be a clear message to the drow before they even began to ask for a surrender.

---​

Dwarves were on the move from all sides, infantry carrying large pikes. Two hundred of these dwarves were sent to the Eastern Tunnels to stop anyone from coming in that way. The party was a mix of pikemen and a hundred archers that marched behind them. Duergar by nature were less resistant to magic, and they relied primarily on their melee tactics.

“Fall into formation!” The thunderous voice of the leader of the company echoed as he drew out his hammer, “I’ll be clobberin me some fairy skulls today.”

---​

The bridge tower guards were on alert thanks to the horn that was sounded. They had their arrows trained on the bridges, ready to pepper anyone that began to walk through. Of course, this meant that they weren’t watching their flanks just yet.

The towers were high and had arrowslits on all sides. The dwarves inside were operating in rotation to monitor each opening. This allowed only tiny lapses in between rotation for anyone to intervene.

---​

As soon as she heard the horn, Vyx knew that the surrender talks would never happen. She sighed and pondered for a moment, the weight of the imminent casualties of her people pressing on her shoulders. She had never felt this weight like she did today. Today she wasn’t leading just another army, today she was leading the drow. She was leading her people.

She gazed up ahead at the lakes of lava beneath the bridges, knowing that rushing in would only see them annihilated. Vyx also knew that they had to at least get past the tunnel they were in - and it was dotted on both sides with towers.

“Lythrani,” She turned to the woman, “I need you to create the illusion of an army marching forth through the tunnel.”

Vyx whipped around to address her soldiers, “When the dwarves begin to shoot at the illusions and come to the arrowslits, I want you to attack them with everything you have! Magic, arrows, knives. We must get through this tunnel!”

She turned to regard the minotaur that had asked for a command, “Charge in to meet the dwarves that await us at the end of this path.”

Zathria At'Arel Lythrani Undraeth Xunari Auceus Salazar Abydros Quiggy Trovik Half-horn
 
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Even as they spoke, a horn rang out over the cavern. It was a universal language that Zathria knew well. It meant there would be no surrender and no negotiations. There would be only war and death.

People should know when they're conquered, she said quietly, looking out over the city. The Drow would take this city even if they had to wade through a river of blood and lava to do it. The only question was how many would have to die before the battle was done.

She turned on her heels and marched swiftly toward the siege company.

Bring the catapults to the front of the company! she shouted in a voice that brooked no objection.

Load them and get them in range of the towers! she ordered. Without delay or hesitation, the soldiers began to force the siege engines forward. The range was nearly 500 meters, well outside the range of the archers in the towers, and she had every intention of capitalizing on their advantage. The siege company would remain at the rear of the formation for this part of the push, but she closed inside the effective range. The last thing any of them needed was a stray boulder landing short and taking out a squadron of their own Drow.

You! Come with me! she ordered, pointing to a squad of the mages. Ten broke off and followed her. There were many uses for magic in the conductance of siege warfare, and a siege engine's effectiveness could be amplified considerably by their skills.

They began to carve runes into the boulders, imparting them with the power of lightning and amplifying their devastation. Unfortunately, something went wrong with the spell. What exactly happened, Zathria never saw, but with an earsplitting crack the sound of thunder rang out and a flash of lightning tore through the air. Two of the catapults erupted into flame and two full squads were charred in an instant.

A fire began to blaze in the rear, and the soldiers scrambled to get it under control but even so there was no way that the siege units would be ready to fight again and there was no recovering the dead soldiers or the equipment that had already been destroyed.

Massive amounts of swearing erupted from Zathria's lips as she scrambled to try to organize a way to put out the blaze.
 
Salazar had finally reached the bank of the lava moat. The heat was unbearable. He had never felt anything like that from the comfort of his damp, jungle village. His plan was to use his expert agility to climb underneath the bridge and up the nearest tower. One wrong move, and he'd plummet to the molten rock below. If need be, he could always fly, but revealing his true identity surrounded by possible enemies was a risk he'd rather avoid.

"The things I do for a thrill," he thought to himself. Well that's what he told himself at least. The truth was, he really wanted to help the Drow. His people were, in fact, part Dark Elf. He felt a kinship with them, and he wanted to aid them in this time of need.

The first challenge would be to get from the rock face and grab underneath the bridge. Just as he readied his lunge, a horn blared throughout the caverns. It caught him off guard, and Salazar slid down the rocks towards the lava below. "Not good. Not good. Not good," he muttered to himself as he struggled to grab any rock he could hold onto. He knew he was seconds away from certain death. He shot his hand out to his right, jabbing it down onto a hefty stone. he winced at the pain of the rock stabbing his hand. He had just missed falling into the flow, but he was still close enough that he felt burns on his left thigh.

After taking half a breath, Salazar pulled himself slowly up the side of the embankment. He had definitely had worse injuries. It was just that they generally came during battle, not prior to it. Once he was back standing up, he took a second to regain his composure. He knew he had one more chance to make it across, while his adrenaline was still pumping
.

As he went to leap for the underside, a gigantic lightning crack erupted over the Drow. Slightly losing his momentum, Salazar reached as far as he could for the bridge. He was able to snag some rope, albeit with his injured hand. He let out a profound "Gah!" from the pain. Luckily he was able to hold on and gain his balance. Both arms and legs soundly in place. He was under the bridge, but he knew there was no time to spare. "Where the HELL did that lightning bolt come from? Did they just attack themselves?!"

Getting across the bridge seemed almost too easy, after all the trip ups back on land. Salazar made it to the base of the tower. If the bridge dropped, he would be okay at this point. He looked up at how high he had to climb, and all the constantly guarded arrow slots he'd have to pass by/use. He sighed. He hoped his earlier troubles wouldn't be a sign of things to come.
 
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Xunari smiled at Zathria when she allocated her some forces and it was not a pleasant smile at all. Of course it wasn't so much directed at Zathria as it was showing her happiness at the situation. She shuddered a little bit with excitement.

"Oh that will do perfectly fine."


She had her forces form up and break off form the main body of the troops, flanking around the edge of the city out of the range of the firepower bearing down on them, toward the dwarven forces holding the eastern tunnel.

Pikes and archers... not a bad set up.

"See how they cower?"
she spoke loudly and clearly to her forces, "See how they seek to stand in their armoured shells and weather the storm we shall bring forth? Mages - prepare for a Push."

Arrows were being notched as she drew a series of runes into the dirt in front of her soldiers and mages. The slaves were to the flanks and they weren't going to be as safe in this next moment... but what did she care really? The arrows were loosed and as they rose into the air she activated the rune, a great curved wall of stone and mud rising to stand between her forces and the oncoming arrows.

Some of the slaves were not so lucky but she didn't care.

"PUSH!"


The eleven other mages thrust their hands forward, telekinetic force slamming hard against her barrier and cracking it, sending chunks of it spiraling through the air toward the enemy lines, crushing several of them as she pushed forward.

"Advance!"
she ordered firmly, "We must push forward so that we may control the pace of the battle!"
 
The horn rang out like an ominous, looming roar over the caverns. The sound hung in the air, lingering long after the dwarf's breath as it echoed across cave walls. Every soldier in the army knew of what the message it sent entailed for them, and each warrior gripped their blade tighter as a result.

The sound of war.

It was at the behest of her Queen that Lythrani nodded, her face bearing no sign of surprise at the call for battle. Her doubts of surrender were known; airing them out was of no service to the Drow now, this moment called for action rather than words.

So it was with a silent nod and subtle weaving of her hands in the air before them that an army of spectral illusions stepped into the realm of reality. A copy of the Drow army marched down the tunnel, the sound of their footsteps ringing out across the underground battleground like war-drums.

it only took moments for the Duergar to take notice, archers quickly rushing up to the arrowslits as they readied their bows. A hail of arrows suddenly rained down upon the illusory army, with many only passing through empty air as illusions feigned death—though their numbers never truly dwindled, with more apparating with each 'loss.' Still, some stray shots pierced the illusions and struck Drow flesh.



At the sound of the horns ringing through the city, Lythrani's network of spies quickly set about the agreed-upon preparations. They rushed toward the walls, silently and quietly sabotaging the lava-buckets that lied in wait for the army while ensuring there would be no witnesses to their actions.
 
He smiled at his orders and gave a simple nod in confirmation to them. They were plain and simple and that's how he liked them, go fight the dwarves across the bridge. He stretched arms before unsheathed his rhomphaia at his hip and charged forward with the illusionary army towards the dwarves.

But before he could reach the end to engage the dwarves, a bolt struck his pauldron, sending his shoulder recoiling from the impact and onto one knee. He took hold of the bolt and pulled it from it's lodged position, it's tip was fresh with his own blood. He let an almighty roar before standing, now he was pissed and ready to remove some stunty heads.
 
Quiggy was enjoying herself immensely, and maybe it was that sense of joy that made her careless. Or maybe she had underestimated those around her. She was reached up on tip-toes to try and pick another pocket when a sharp pain ran up her arm as one of the warriors caught her hand. She was both surprised and impressed that she had noticed her, most big folk had their heads turned so high up into the air that little ol Quiggy was even worth paying attention to.

"I.." she began, trying to appear chastized, though in her head she was cataloguing the elve's face to memory to steal her bread at a later date. She never stole valuables from those that had irritated her, from them she stole their food, what was truly valuable. "You're right, of course, of course. I'll be off then, better served elsewhere. Yes, yes!"

With that she ran off towards the back of the lines, away from the lady who had noticed her. There would be time aplenty to steal, for now it was better to avoid getting killed by a stray arrow.​
 
The order came down the ranks, the fight had begun, and a wide grin appeared on the tall Tiefling's face.

"So it begins!"

He had been waiting for this moment for a very long time, a very, very long time. They were finally making their move, taking the first steps in the long trek that would get him what he most desired.

As the dwarves finally started showing themselves Zahel sheathed his sword and grabbed a crossbow from one of the soldiers near him, a charming smile was all it took to make him comply. That and the unspoken threat in his eyes. He had long learned that a smile and a sheathed dagger worked much better than a naked blade.

Taking aim at one of the dwarves that poked his head out to shoot at the illusions, he let loose. But the crossbow was not his own, and the fool he had borrowed it from had not maintained it well. The arrow shot out, and it did hit its target, but the crossbow itself backfired, whatever mechanism maintained its tension breaking and stinging Zahel's arm with a sharp pain.

With a curse Zahel tossed the now ruined crossbow back to its owner and noticed him cover in fear. He often forgot how submissive most of these Drow men were. A grin appeared on his lips as he waved the man away and drew his sword once more. He would do this the way he knew best, at the tip of his sword.

Zathria At'Arel
 
Salazar figured he had taken enough of a breather, here on the ledge at the bottom of an enemy's tower. Only feet above a river of lava. He looked up at the treacherous path that lay above him. Under the best of circumstances this would have been a difficult challenge. Currently he had an injured right hand, injured left leg, there were countless enemy archers patrolling the exact slits he needed to use to climb, and who knew the next time the exact army he's helping would unleash another devastating spell upon THEMSELVES. "This is why I hate magic!"

Before he'd need to worry about sneaking past enemies, he'd just need to climb to a higher ledge. Easy enough he thought. He reached up to pull himself, but had done so on instinct alone. In doing so, he attempted to pull up the full weight of his body with his injured hand alone, and quickly crumpled down onto the lower ledge, wincing in pain. "Damn. I'll need to be more careful than usual."

Being much more cautious about how to best utilize his muscles, Salazar reached the upper ledge. From here he would need to climb from arrow slit to arrow slit, without ever being detected. "Well this should just go swimmingly. In that I'll probably be swimming in molten rock pretty soon..."

He watched for a pattern in the guard's movements until he felt that he had gotten a pretty good idea of their routine. There seemed to be five levels of guards, each with four guards rotating between what Salazar counted as eight slits per floor. He was pretty sure each guard was covering two openings at a time. After all of his joking, he actually started to think that the climb would be the easiest part of his mission.

Counting to three in his head, the Dagyt began his rapid ascent. His people were extremely nimble, a fact that would be necessary to complete his task. Leaping and climbing, he made it up past the first two levels with relative ease. The occasional arrow would loose from an opening next to him, and he used these moments to help him calculate the next jump. Sometimes he would need to cross to the side, before he could go up, but he was always cautious not to completely bare himself to the battle on land or the other towers. Before he knew it, he was reaching the fourth level.

As he went for the next opening, something in his gut felt wrong. His ears picked up a change in vibrations. The guard was returning to the very opening for which Salazar was reaching. With his wing under his cloak, Salazar pushed himself to the side at the last moment, and avoided the guard's detection. Finally, he reached the top level of the tower. This floor was fully open, and it held the bridge drawing mechanism. Salazar stayed out of sight until a Dwarf archer aimed an arrow above him. Salazar reached up with his black blade, Fang, and stabbed the guard through his wrist. Dropping his bow, the guard began to wail, but it was over before he realized exactly what was happening to him. Salazar using the Dwarf as leverage, swung up to the ledge above, simultaneously sending the Dwarf over and down to the river below.

Perched on the edge, Salazar was looking into the eyes of three very confused Dwarf archers. "No ticket?"
 
Arrows rained on Xunari and her forces, many of them piercing drow flesh. The dwarf forces did not back down, pressing forward with their pikes now leveled and angled.

“Hold!" The dwarf commander shouted in his native tongue as the stone barrier was raised before them, “Shield wall!!”

The dwarves rapidly got into formation and slammed their shields down, layering them so they became impenetrable. A moment later, the stone wall shattered and blasted towards them. Debris rained and slammed into the shields and the yet the dwarves held their ground, skidding back on their feet against the cold stone.

“Hooooold!” The commander called, “Hooold my brothers! HOLD!” And they did, shouting in unison and pushing back against the force of the blast. A few of them fell in the process, toppling back and getting crushed, but not all.

“NOW!” They charged at once and in unison. It was a sight to behold as the drow rushed forth. Right at that moment, the shields parted to give way to the limber dwarves that sprang forth with their pikes. They moved in perfect concert, piercing several drow and slaves rapidly.

Xunari would learn this day that the duergar wouldn’t bend so easily. She would learn that the dwarves had prepared for this. She would learn that this tunnel wouldn’t be breached so simply.

----​

As Trovik charged through the tunnel, a group of dwarves were waiting on the other end. They had their hammers drawn and were not afraid of the charging minotaur.

“Let’s go clubbin’ boys!” One of the dwarves shouted as he and four others surrounded the minotaur and began to swing their weapons. Two of them tried to sweep his legs and slam into his knees with their heavy hammers.

---​

“Wha’ the hell is that?” A dwarf archer said with wide eyes as he gazed at the dagyt - a species he had never seen before.

"I dun care what it is, it killed Ulfred!"

Without thinking, he shot an arrow at him. The other two dwarves followed his lead, loosing several arrows to pepper the uninvited guest on their tower. The dagyt had moments to avoid certain doom.

---​

Vyx was focused on the tunnels and began to make her way forward when some of their siege weapons caught on fire. She gasped at the sight, whirling on Zathria.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Anger boiled in her veins and she almost considered hitting the woman. However, her distraction cost her as a dwarf came in with a hammer and swung it into her torso. The blow cracked her armor and her vision went blind for a moment. Vyx hunched over and coughed up blood, stumbling back a few steps to reel from the sudden attack.

She was vulnerable at that moment and the dwarf raised his hammer to land another blow. This one likely to be fatal.

At the end of the tunnel, Lythrani would find herself in danger of being peppered with arrows. Dwarves that were part of the same group that were attacking Trovik now went after her, swinging their hammers and axes. Anyone at the end of this tunnel would face about fifty dwarves that were hellbent on stopping them from emerging on the other side of the tunnel.

The dwarves were attempting to push the drow forces back towards whence they came. This would force them to become fish in a barrel for the towers on both sides that still had some dwarves manning the arrow slits.

Lythrani Undraeth Zathria At'Arel Trovik Half-horn Salazar Abydros Zahel Bashere Xunari Auceus
 
Zathria was irate, and with the mage having vaporized herself with her own spell, there was no one for her to take it out on. She couldn't blame Vyx for being enraged with her, but she wasn't going to stop now. Forward. Always forward even in the face of failure.

One of the other mages - eager to cover up for the mistake of her now dead squadmate - quickly smothered the flames with a blast of ice that covered both catapults and ended the immediate threat.

Get those other catapults in position! she shouted, watching them pushed forward before her eyes flicked back to the battlefield. She could see Vyx'aria in a bad place, and acted without thinking. Years of training kicked in and one of her sabers flicked free of its sheathe.

She ran forward, magic flowing freely through her as she acted. She dropped the bow from her other hand, and closed quickly on the dwarf engaged with the queen.

Her left hand reached out, and seized the handle of the hammer as it began to rain down once again. She then threw her body in the opposite direction of the bow, swinging in the air as she did and using the shaft of the hammer as a pivot. Dwarves were naturally strong and hardy folk, and she didn't fancy a tug of war with one where the stakes were the Queen's life, but they had short arm spans, and Zathria was able to have her body on the entirely opposite side of the dwarf and still reach the weapon.

Completely off the ground now, she slammed her feet into the back of the dwarf before ramming her sword through his back. The dark steel blade didn't even seem to notice the strain applied to it by her magically enhanced blow and simply burst through the chest of the dwarf as he fell to the ground.

She wrenched her blade free of the still-coughing dwarf as blood poured from his mouth. He would be dead in moments, and she didn't have a spare moment to spend worrying about him.

She could see that the towers were still raining arrows and she looked back to see the catapults had finally made it into position.

Release! she shouted the order over the clang of the battle. Two of the catapult arms slammed forward, accelerating lightning-carved stones into one of the towers. Stone splintered against stone and a mere moment later, the lightning detonated: a flash of pure white that vaporized the defenders and tore a massive chunk out of the building.
 
Sweat dripped down Derg's bald head, glistening in the forge's light. The Forgemaster gripped adamantine tongs with heavy leather mitts, fishing in a flowing lava trough that traveled the length of his forge's wall. Gingerly fishing out a glowing gemstone from the trough, its rune carved surface glowing with heat, Derg turned with it to his work table. The Forge Gauntlet lay waiting, one lasts rune etched relief to be filled with another glowing jewel, six in all once the final one was placed. With a swift strike of his hammer, the last stone was sealed in its place. The slowly cooling gem flared for a moment, before joining its brothers in a steady simmering glow. The hammer strike almost drowned out the sound of invasion bells. almost.

With a grimace, Derg fastened the gauntlet on his left hand. The heavy metal glove seemed to boil with energy, the heat barely contained from burning his flesh. With a heavy sigh, Derg looked around his familiar forge for a moment. Just a moment, before turning to the door and the waiting battle. Spell-forged chain and plate would keep him safe, and his weapons would slay many enemies, ax and sword and hammer. But Forgemaster Gherdro couldn't shake the doom he felt, that he may never see his forge again.

Derg's boots pounded as he rushed to the Outer Wall, the first defense between the outer tunnel and the city of Dhunbor. His steady pace brought him through abandoned districts as he approached the battle, the hard duergar in the city preparing to mount a defense of their home. His approach brought him to the gatehouse, where he paused for a moments breather. Just a moment, before huffing it up the stairs. Through the doorway into the gatehouse proper to check on the lava cauldrons, Derg was met with a scene that brought rage to his heart.

"Saboteurs!" Spittle flew from his lips as he shouted, his voice booming with an unnatural loudness, before rushing in at the pair of traitors that were trying to sabotage the cauldron's dumping mechanism, drawing a wicked looking falchion as he charged over the corpses of his fellow grey dwarves who had not survived the treachery. The pair of duergar's forms seemed to shimmer and flicker as Derg mounted a mental attack on them, their disguises faltering as his mind lashed at them in rage. The pressure of his mind would build inside their heads even as his first strike fell, a wicked slash that would cleave through the chest of the first saboteur. Before the blow could land however, the world shook for a moment as one of the nearby guard towers exploded in lightning. The explosion sent the target of Derg's wrath sprawling to the ground, saving his life for a mere moment.
 
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Things happened quickly as the dice rolling in Zahel's mind, the first time it had happened since this campaign had begun. So even though the chaos of combat engulfed his surroundings, he kept his eyes peeled for whatever was about to happen. Something important, something that would need his attention. He did so as the dwarves let loose with their arrows, by luck or skill avoiding getting hit.

Scanning the warfront, his eyes finally fell on the tunnels, where the Queen was leading the charge. He saw the dwarf attack her, too late to warn or help her. He cursed as he realized that he was going to be too late to do much of anything as the dwarf was preparing for another attack. Thankfully others were faster than he had been, and another Drow was able to stop the dwarf and incapacitate him before he could make another attack on the queen. An appreciative smile appeared on Zahel's lips as he watched the drow deal with the dwarf, overcoming their disparity in strength with her own strengths in terms of reach and movement.

"Clever girl!" He muttered to himself as he made his way towards the two of them, preparing to provide some healing to the Queen as he summoned the deck of cards into his free hand. He didn't do this out of a sense of loyalty or connection with the Queen, but out of greed. He needed her alive, to drive this conquest forward, to take them to the surface, to the people who had wronged him all those years ago. She was the path to his vengeance, and for that he needed to keep her safe.

Fortune though was in a playful mood, and as he flicked a card into the air it danced in front of him revealing an intricately drawn picture of an old and battered door. He felt the cut on his arm from the misfired bolt flare up, pain shooting up his arm that was stronger than what he had felt before. Not a horribly bad draw, but not the best, and not what he was hoping for.

Nonetheless he came to a stop besides the queen, holding out his free hand to pull her to her feet. If she took his hand then the magic of the draw would seep into her, reinforcing her body for a while, making her sturdier than she had been. But if she refused his aid then he'd let the magic take hold of him instead. With Drow you never knew, no help might be better than help from someone like him.

Once the Queen was back to her feet, with or without his help, he would step up besides the Drow who had protected her moments earlier and prepare to cut down any Dwarves that came their way.

Rolls: 18 (d20) - reacting to the dwarven charge
Drawing a card:
2 (d4) - Defensive draw
37 (d100) - Barely a success. You succeed in your end goal but take some sort of negative in doing so

Zathria At'Arel Zathria At'Arel
 
Salazar had just made the treacherous climb up the tower, and already had an arrow en route towards his wonderfully squishy head. Luckily his reflexes were naturally faster than most dwarves' arrows. Moving his head to the left, he felt the cool breeze of the projectile pass through where he had been less than a moment prior. "Should I have knocked?"

It was his turn. Using the natural dexterity of his people, Salazar was a black and silver blur as he lunged for the remaining archers. The dwarf before him began to reach for his blade, but the bearded figure's speed was no match for Salazar's. Using his left hand to push back the guard's unarmed hand, Salazar drove his black blade, Fang, into the dwarf's chest. The guard let out a brief, yet final call as he fell backwards to the ground. Had the dagyt focused on what was behind him, rather than ahead of him, he would have noticed the dwarven hammer headed for his back. Unfortunately, he had been caught up in his current take down, and it wasn't until the blunt object nailed him directly in the center of his back that he realized that some of these dwarves might be quicker then he had thought.

Between the fact that the dwarf acted quickly and rashly, and Salazar had plenty of padding between his leather armor and cloaked wings, the blow didn't break his back. It did, however, send him tumbling forward to the floor. He would need to react quickly if he were to recover from this attack.

He didn't. The second of the remaining dwarves was to his side, almost as if he'd been waiting there for him before the blow had ever landed. Had this one had a hammer, Salazar very well be in the land of the dead at this point. "Luckily" it was a blade he wielded so the extent of the damage amounted to a decent slash on his left shoulder. The dagyt let out a wail in pain. A second slash, but there was no element of surprise on the dwarf's side this time. Salazar used Fang to stop the dwarven blade. Using his injured left leg, he managed to kick the dwarf back and roll up back onto his feet. It was two vs. one, and Salazar had admittedly felt better.
 
Ah the dwarves were cunning foes and hardy ones at that. She sighed as some more of her forces were struck down but did not falter. Waving her hand down, she sent her own forces to engage in a counter-charge.

It was a holding action more than one that she expected to actually yield positive results. The drow were fierce fighters and her mages would assist but they needed something else. They needed an edge.

Rushing to the right flank, she ducked under a few arrows that sailed in her direction with a growl before using the tip of her armoured finger to draw runes in the dirt. She could see that the pikes were taking a toll on her forces but still she waited.

Until the pikes were committed.

"Second line fall back!"


The second line of drow fell back, leaving the front line engaged with the enemy. Slamming her hand onto the rune, she activated it and watched as a large section of the road ahead of her fell into the deep, opening up into a deep chasm. Drow from the abandoned first line fell, holding the dwarves with them in locked combat. She lost a good couple dozen of her elves but she had cut through almost eighty of the pikemen.

"Push the attack!"


Half of the road was still passable and the pikemen wavered, their friends and allies now falling into the abyss half a step away.

Based on a d20 roll of 15

Vyx'aria
 
Based on a d20 roll of 3

Arrows rained down upon them, piercing the army's flesh with sharpened heads. Lythrani was in the midst of yet another spell when a stray arrow struck her in the shoulder. A pained grunt left her lips, interrupting the magic in a bout of abrupt pain as her hand darted over to hold the wound.

She gritted her teeth, snapping off the arrow's wooden shaft as she began to walk backward. She danced out of the way of other arrows as she tended to her own wound. Getting shot was a rookie mistake, she should've known better than to entrust Lady Luck with her own life. Being so reckless was a recipe for disaster in the midst of such a battlefield—she hoped a single wound was the extent of it.

Yet Lady Luck was a cruel mistress, as nearly fifty dwarves came forward to prevent the drow's entrance. A moonlit sword apparated in her hand, batting away axes and dancing away from arcing swings of dwarven hammers. One by one, the men fell through delicate gashes and elegant swings—at least, that was what she hoped for.

Yet the onslaught only grew more intensive and the situation more dire when Lythrani found herself pushed back by the group of Duergar, back to where she knew archers were lining up yet another shot at her. Fighting back wasn't working, not on even ground at least. With a mental word of command, her cloak flared to life as if blown back by a sudden wind. The starscape depicted on the cloak's patterning stretched outward enveloping her and her attackers in an impenetrable, arcane orb of darkness in which only she could see.

May Lady Luck be as generous as she is fickle.
 
The traitorous duergar's life was saved from Derg's blade by a nearby explosion that rocked the gatehouse for a moment. Just a moment. Derg's charge disrupted as his feet came out from under him, it was a simple task to fall forwards, blade first leaning right into the saboteur's heart. Rolling over the now drowish form there was a sickening crunch as the falchion was torn free from Derg's grasp, its spine caught on the Drow spy's ribcage.

Coming out of the roll unarmed, Derg was faced with a grinning grey dwarf who approached with a wicked drow blade. The spy probably thought himself lucky, his foe unarmed and unsteady before him.

"THALDRUXJA!" The command rolled from Derg's lips as the spy's blade came down, and the Forgemaster's gauntleted left hand rose to meet it. The rune-carved gemstone in the gauntlet's palm flared, and sparks flew as the drow blade met the blazing fire axe that Derg now wielded. Parrying the surprised duergar-disguised drow's blade, the Forgemaster wasted little time between the parry and planting his new blade in the spy's shocked face.

Leaving the conjured axe to melt away in a pool of slowly hardening lava, Derg turned back to his falchion, a disapproving glare leveled at the stuck blade. Pulling the rune etched blade free with a grunt, Derg was blade in hand when reinforcements arrived, his shout having rallied them to the gatehouse.

"Disappointing." The Forgemaster muttered as he glowered at the fresh troops who were quick to clear the drow corpses and man the battlements. Shaking his head, he took a peak through an arrow slit at the chaos below.

(D20 Roll = 14)
 
Poor Lythrani Undraeth needed some help it seemed. The Nameless One wandered through the battle as archers fired their arrows. Some went passed him but those that thought it would pierce his body, their arrows went through him. Leaving no mark. The ghostly dark elf with pale skin just kept on walking and used some wind magic to vault himself up the wall.

The dwarves all scrambled yelling at each other as they tried to pelt him with arrows, but once again they went right through him. Their dark dwarves went pale seeing that and they started to try to retreat.

He did not speak, for he could never be heard. If he did try to speak only he would hear it and no one else. So why bother? The elf draws a rune in the air and an explosion of fire spewed forth. Incinerating the dwarves as they ran or stood their ground in fear. He would wave at Lythrani with a smile before he continued his silent walk into the city to hunt down its leaders.