Completed The Despoiling of Alliria

[Geladryx]

The Hill

Ballista bolt struck the Outer Walls of Alliria but were largely unsuccessful in prying free chunks of rock to rain down on the backline of any defenders that had ventured into the Aruck Slums. Mages and other allies on the side of Alliria saw to it that the wall was well protected. This was not completely unforeseen. At the moment the Dragon appeared satisfied to probe the defenses of the city.

The Battlefield was largely contained to the Slums and the Outer Wall. The Horde had not breached the frontline defenses of Alliria though the forces harassing them at the treeline and the Siegeworks had been dispersed, withdrawing after the forest was apparently lit ablaze. This did offer Geladryx renewed options.

The Warmachines, Ballistae all would see their chains reeled back in by their crews after a largely unsuccessful effort to pull chunks of the Outer Walls free and send the debris down onto the backlines of the defenders.

At this point the Trumpeter did not sound, the Dragon was waiting to see how the lines of battle began to evolve.

------

The Siegeworks
The Treeline

After Vardan and his contingent of Undead had reappeared the treeline the signal would come from one of the Lieutenants that they were to reinforce the frontlines. The Orcs and Undead assaulting the Slums needed to strength their position against the defenders

Indeed it would not be long before the Undead Lord heard the call of the Dragon in his mind, the loathesome necromancy the beast commanded assisting him in extending his will outwards across the battlefield....

"Break their palisades Vardan. Bring us to the Outer Walls so we can begin our ascent."

...the dragons hissing voice would echo in the minds of the sentient undead, those who controlled the lessers alongside any Necromancers that might accompany them or the main body of the Horde.

------

The Hill

There was more too. The Laughter of Visha Sofka hasd alerted Geladryx to her presense. After the Dragon had exerted his will on the Undead, ensuring pressure on the central lines was maintained he convulsed. Shuddering, his long reptilian body seemed to shake as though assailed by an unknown ailment. Not so though.

Foul Magic had a price to pay.

He'd lift a forelimb and used a deadly talon to begin scratching something in the dirt, muttering something under his breath as he wove the incantation from afar before hissing....

"Visha."

....his voice seemed labored momentarily but then....

"VISHA!"

...it boomed in guttural fashion, carrying across the auxiliaries....

"Burn the Walls. Burn everyone on them."

...Visha Sofka was at adherent of the Sparhawk, a worshiper really but beyond that she was a vastly powerful Pyromancer. As the Emerald Death finished scratching the last of the sigil he'd made into the earth his enormous body would have rocked forward, his maw opened and he would vomit forth a sickly mist that radiated, pulsing with an odd archaic power. The Mist whipped and wound around his feet before drifting away, seeking out the Pyromancer.

When it found Visha it would likewise whirl up and around her, starting at the ankles and moving all the way up to the crown of her head. Whirling quickly before attempting to enter her through the nose, the mouth, ever the eyes. Of course she could fight it, reject it but the mist was there ot help not to harm. It would impart a Hellish Vigor on the Pyromancer, a fragment of the dragons own vigor which to a human would amount to them being put on steroids. Fatigue would be an afterthought, endurance would shoot through the roof. Accepting this gift would mean Visha could push herself harder and longer than ever before.

 

[Elra Mistfall]

The Main Assault
Defending the Walls

Geladryx | Solon Raye | Dauner

Elra kept a close eye on the battlefield from her post atop the walls, frowning when she saw the ballistae approach. They fired a volley over the earthen fortifications and in their direction. She tightened her grip on her bow. "Mages!"

Immediately, the mages atop the walls responded, knocking the first few bolts aside with magic, others they destroyed or broke the chain off before they could pull. Still, for a moment it seemed their strategy would work and the defenders below would suffer when the chains suddenly melted away like ice on a summer day.

Elra's lips parted, wonder overtaking her a moment, even in this horrid battle. She spotted a new knight in the midst of the defenders, he must be responsible. She almost introduced herself, but no, no yet, she had something to do first. She looked out ahead and narrowed her eyes. "Use fire!"

If their bolts could reach them from below, their arrows could most certainly reach them from above. The archers let their arrows aflame and the mages readied their spells. Finally, a ballista of their own was loaded with an enchanted bolt, one that would erupt into flame on impact.

Elra drew an enchanted arrow from her quiver and drew it back, aiming high into the air to reach her target. "Make them kindling!" she called out as she released her arrow, and as she did, so did all others. The skies above the attackers soon became alight with a rain of fiery arrows.

Elra's own arrow led the way, landing square in an enemy ballista, where it burst into fire and consumed the weapon altogether. The rest of the arrows soon followed, though one might not individually set fire to a siege weapon, dozens together would stand a much better chance, those around the weapons would also be endangered. The enchanted bolt from the ballista would land between two siege weapons and, without interference, consume both.

At the same time, the rest of the ballistae on the walls would let loose a volley of ordinary bolts, these ones aimed for the less-expendable orcs, necromancers, and centaurs among the enemy ranks. Finally, the mage's spells would also target whatever siege equipment they could reach, otherwise, they'd also aim for the enemy soldiers. Only a few mages did nothing, but prepared defensive spells in case of a counterattack.

...
Left Flank
The Redeemer's Charge

Be'sennar | Khurash | Jane

The soldiers Elra had called for emerged from the left gate. As the enemy had yet to bypass the earthen walls surrounding the Areck Slums, they arrived without incident and formed ranks. Organizing themselves into a wedge formation. Designed to fight barbarian hordes.

Most of their number consisted of heavily armored infantry, most carrying shields. Mingled in with them were several Cleric's of various faiths, surrounded by the soldiers to keep them safe. Finally, a single mage walked in the middle of the formation, but he wasn't any simple mage, but a powerful one, accomplished in his craft.

All at once, they sallied out into the ranks of the undead, making their way toward the Redeemed Brotherhood. As they did, the Cleric's whispered prayers to their gods, some to weaken their foes, and others to empower their allies. Only the mage did nothing because his purpose was to counteract any action taken against them. if arrows or spells were launched their way, he'd shield them, and if a counter-charge was mounted against them he'd attempt to break their advance with his magic.

The moment they set out and witnessed Be'sennar his power came upon them and filled them with greater vigor. With purpose, they marched out to aid them in battle.

 

[Vardan]

Left Flank
Behind the Lines - Observing Hillside

Be'sennar | Elra Mistfall | Khurash | Jane | Geladryx

Under a rain of pestersome arrows, Vardan relocated. The undead formerly under his command redeployed elsewhere, and the black flame abated within them. Ballistae burned as he left the siegeworks, though that would be someone else's problem now.​

​

Pillars of smoke rose from the forest behind him. The din of battle was inescapable now. As he skulked well behind the frontlines, thunder erupted from the otherwise placid sky above. That alone gave him pause. The allirians were proving to be quite tricksome foes.​

​

He arrived at whatever passed for a command station among this barbarous horde - a small hill that gave him ample view of the left flank. Just outside of ballistae range. A coterie of lesser necromancers and orcish shamans shuffled about nervously at his arrival.​

​

For the moment, Vardan paid them no mind. He produced a spyglass from a pouch, extended it, and observed the mad crush. Unpleasant business. Not suitable for him at all. Vardan would never deign approach such a nightmare.​

​

"Paladins," Vardan observed, displeasingly, "I presume this to be the cause of thy lack of progress..."​

​

Silence.​

​

Vardan collapsed the spyglass again, "No matter. Wit ye well, it shall be corrected in due course. I require a ritual circle along this spot. Bring forth the rest of thy cohort."​

 

[Blackburn Fane]

LEFT FLANK
BEHIND THE LINES - PROTECTING BONY BOOTY

Be'sennar | Elra Mistfall | Khurash | Jane | Geladryx | Vardan

Fane was a bit hazy on the details.

Which details?

The ones that led him to becoming the bodyguard of Vardan, excuse me, Ser Vardan of House Rosewood. He remembered clawing his way out of a grave. He recalled the pompous skeleton talking shit at him. He certainly recollected the way the lich's gnolls chewed on his arm.

Then there was some oversized gorilla creature that started chasing them all.

Or maybe just the gnolls, but when half the gnolls were ON TOP of you? Well. You become a prime target all the same.

Fane was reasonably sure said gorilla bit him too. Maybe that caused his recent affliction. Not the bodyguarding, that was less affliction and more frustrating pass-time. Truth to be told there was something useful about working for a necromancer when you could rise from the grave yourself.

There were always spare parts to be grafted.

"Oh, you need me to draw that uh... circle, boss?" He stepped up from his vaunted position right behind Vardan and rested next to him.

"I can draw a mean circle if you get me some chalk or something."

As always... it was difficult to decipher if the burly man was taking the piss on his boss. It seemed Fane opted away from obvious frontal mocking to a more nondescript, ambiguous way of 'messing with the skelly'. But there was just enough plausible deniability and bodyguarding competence to not have to tear more gnolls off his head.

For now anyway.

"Why are we following the dragon anyway?" Conversationally as he watched the horde lines dash against the city protectors again. "There ain't much house reclamation going on, if the whole country side gets burned down, no?"

 

[Dauner]

The Main Assault
Defending The Walls​

---

Dauner was able to recuperate successfully, in the middle of a battlefield, without any meaningful disturbance. He opened his eyes to in time to see the defenders counters the besiegers by targeting their siege weapons. He got to his feet and looked above him. To his surprise, he hadn't been struck by lightning, despite toying around with the laws of death by using its loopholes.

He remembered how he always got struck by lightning whenever he tried doing similar things. And how he kept doing them, if not only to annoy the gods and have them throw more lightning his way. Before looking back to the battlefield, he raised his right arm towards the sky, and showed his middle finger.

Not far from him was another knight, who wielded the flames to purge the metal chains attached to the bolts shot by the besieging forces. He sighed. Why did he seem to come across holy knights wherever he went? Did he get cursed by some random god without his knowledge? He wouldn't wait around for an answer, though.

He left a mental message on his newly acquired, still unconscious subordinates, asking them to come to him as soon as they awoke. He would then leap from the wall, landing atop one of the stuck metal bolts.

Grabbing the bolt with his hand, sparks of electric current would travel from his hand to the bolt, circle through it, and then return to him. The bolt would immediately turn soft. Weak. Flaccid. Having lost all its metallic energy, it would now be no different from rubber.

Dauner would then jump off it before it gave way beneath his weight. Flying over attacker and defender alike, he would close his eyes and stretch out his arms, enjoying the wind that rushed across his face. He would however be snapped back to reality, as his face would have an unprepared for reunion with the ground.

"DAMN IT!!!" he exclaimed, looking up to the undead he now faced, as he got to his feet. "Now I'm pissed!"

Vardan | Blackburn Fane​

 

[Be'sennar]

The Redeemers Charge

Be'senaar would watch as the rune burned away, interesting. Then he pressed his attack. It was the same brutality one could expect from the poorly trained.

With Nykios' aid, Be'senaar's empty left gauntlet would catch the left wrist and as dagger aimed for the gap in the barding, Jarro would swing his head down and away as the right boot kicked over head and saddle horn in a smooth dismount. If the boot didn't connect with the Orc's chest, his blade would snap quickly down to stop the dagger. There would be a thin scratch along Jarro's neck, which would be paid for as the sword swung back upwards, poised to slash across the orcs chest or even gain clearance, shoving the left wrist back and away in the process.

"We are all children of the gods. You stray from their beliefs, their teachings. You follow a false god, one whose demise will come this day. Re-enter the light, Khurash. Do not make me strike you down." Jarro had been saved, and to ensure that, he would exhale slowly, causing the wound at Jarro's neck to knit and seal shut. "Jarro, enter the city."

There would be a snort before his war horse trot away. "Surrender to the will of Astra, and you will be spared, though after you pay the price for the damage you have done."

Around them, the Redeemed would continue to make short work of the first waves of undead, with the fresh and bolstered reinforcements engaging the orcs, the battle near the earthen wall was starting to tip in the defenders favor. They were not here for the merchant Lords, whose homes would not be tarnished, they were here for the poor, the feeble, those who had everything to lose.

One of the Redeemed would fire an arrow cascading with radiant light, it would go high and far.

Khurash || Elra Mistfall

 

[Vardan]

Left Flank
Behind the Lines - Observing Hillside

​

Blackburn Fane | Geladryx | Dauner

​

As a pair of lesser necromancers scurried about to carry out his orders, Vardan took note of his crude retainer - the one that had notably been absent for his sorte into the forest. Perhaps he had been busy defecating, or whatever it is the living usually got up to when not being useful. Had he the lungs to properly scoff, he would have.​

​

"Thy skills lie elsewhere, Blackburn," Vardan intoned, "Keep idle for now. When the time comes, I shall-"​

​

Vardan happened to glance to the side at the right moment and noted, much to his shock, a small and delicate man being flung from the walls. He soared with surprising elegance and then landed, quite conveniently, face-first on Vardan's lonesome hill. The undead noble lost forgot his bearing for a moment, and his lower jawbone slacked open in shock.​

​

Perhaps his retainer's services would be required sooner rather than later. Vardan watched the boy get to his feet, seemingly unharmed. His head tilted one way as he watched him, jaw snapping shut with an audible clack.​

​

"Well, what have we here? The fell stench of the void clings about thee. Thou cannot truly be of that city of cowards."​

​

With a skeletal hand, Vardan made a dismissive, shooing motion. "Avaunt, then. There is little need for business between us."​

 

[Jane]

The Redeemer's Charge​

The Redeemer and that savage orc were having a go. Delicious. Watching could of been fun (who didn't like to watch from time to time?) but Jane had duty to attend to. Oh, it wasn't like she hated what said duty, stripped of all its pretentious trappings, amounted to. Put aside the talk of honor, sacrifice, righteousness, all the rest, and what was she being asked to do when you drilled right down into it?

Kill.

That's right. Sometimes Astra and her weren't so different. And while Astra and her devout minions like the Redeemer could tidy it up, scrub the stained decks of their consciences, Jane bathed in the one thing that she didn't loathe outright.

Blood. Lovely red blood. Already the fields of the Left Flank were slick with it. Like a beautiful red carpet leading to the Areck Slums. Just the sight of it ignited that passionate desire between her thighs, greedy and hot. But she'd have to settle on biting her bottom lip for now—this wasn't a raiding party led by the Sisters, no, she couldn't just pleasure herself in the middle of a battle, Astra forbid.

Well. Time to do what she was summoned here to do. Inflict pain...and incidentally kill the besiegers of Alliria as was her compulsory duty to Astra and the Redeemer, yes, of course.

Jane rejoined the Redeemer's paladins and made a few charges with them, the lot of them trading with Orcish cavalry in several passes against one another. Her sword glistened (hhaaahh!) with blood, droplets of it flying off and sailing away with the whipping wind of her ride. There were spatters of it on her heater shield. A tiny speckle on her cheek. Ahhh...this was satisfying.

The formation of soldiers summoned by Elra Mistfall were approaching, and Jane thought the Orcish cavalry might retreat. They didn't. Ohhh, got some fight in them. She loved stomping that out of people, and her heel was hungry.

This latest charge and trade didn't go very well.

An axeblow from an unmounted orc warrior chopped off the leg of Jane's mount and the horse shrieked and toppled forward, throwing Jane. She hit the trodden and damp ground with a hard thud as the horse's head was hacked off in three brutal blows by the warrior.

Then one of the orcish cavalrymen set upon her. His Warg bit into her armored leg and swung her fiercely side-to-side, her body dragged helplessly across the churned and bloody ground, whiplash in her skull with each new arc of the Warg's thrashing. Jane clenched her teeth. She couldn't get her sword angled to strike nor her shield up to protect. The beast's massive jaws clamped into the steel of her armor and were crushing the flesh beneath, her bone set to break if she couldn't get free.

Be'sennar Khurash Elra Mistfall

 

[Visha Sofka]

THE TREELINE​

Visha. LOVED. FIRE!

And the forest around her was ablaze! Out from it she came like a composer, arms raised high and hands swinging with the tune of the crackling and popping of the flames. Her chin she held high, her cheeks risen from the manic grin which split her expression.

The sight, the smell, the heat of all this fire! It empowered her! It got her going! Her Impassioned Blaze was churning within her breast, swirling like a caged animal driven mad by otherworldly excitement, trembling euphoria spurring on quivering muscles in almighty anticipation! Pillars of fire rose from her eyebrows, from her shoulders, as if underneath her skin was nothing but a sweltering furnace and these were the fissures through which all of that searing pressure could be released.

"VARDAN! Where did you go!?" she shouted. "I'm going to aggressively read you bad poetry while I polish your skull! YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM ME!"

Wait! That's not why she was here.

Geladryxie (don't tell him she called him that!) was kind enough to remind her! Yes! That's right! She was here to burn, burn, BURN! All of Alliria she could offer to Great Maho! He'd see it all the way from the heavens, a bonfire right in the center of the world!

Visha inhaled deeply of the mists sent by Geladryx. Deeper and deeper and deeper! Big breaths! In! IN! And out...and then IN! Yes! She felt invigorated! Everyone was going to have a bad day! Eggs were part of a balanced diet and she was about to overcook ALL OF THEM!

"Surprise..." she said to herself. Sinisterly, of course. Oh, don't forget to giggle! "...it's your birthday, Alliria...!"

And Visha began to channel massive amounts of magic into herself. Flames from the forest fire spiraled from the branches and flowed toward her, into her. Her feet started to leave the ground as more and more magic gathered around her. Her staff she held in both hands before her like a branch to do chin-ups from and it caught fire in the rising heat and shattered into countless ashes and drifted from her hands.

She was preparing to do just as Geladryxie said. To unleash a massive Firestorm upon the Outer Walls.

Soon!

Vardan Geladryx Blackburn Fane Dauner

 

[Solon Raye]

Most mortals are hardly equipped to deal with what comes with wielding a power as vast and as complicated as magic. They are prone to allow their love for power and lust for simple and base concepts turn them into madmen. They begin to see themselves as closer to godhood because they wield a power that most do not have the capacity to understand... But Solon, what you must learn to fall in love with is the poetry. You must learn to look at the elements, the fabric of reality itself as a parchment. A canvas to craft your masterpiece. Fall in love with the science.

Just as you used to watch your father kill men while dancing with the spirits of the sand. Just how you told me you used to... Fall in love with the poetry and know no fear, Syr Knight.

It was impossible to not see the forest fire on the horizon. Solon could practically feel the flutter of the men's hearts next to him while his own thumped at a steady pace. These monsters were using a great deal of magical energy. How thought it strange how quickly he remembered his teachings from long ago. Magic was awe inspiring when it was used for destructive purposes. In the minds of the unlearned, it could be overwhelming. All consuming if one did not understand it's intricacies. A great deal was done to prepare what was to come, Solon knew.

He whispered a few words to the gods.

Something to bless all of the men on the wall so that their hearts might know peace in the face of certain death. So in tune was he with the magic of Life that he could feel the hearts of man and beast flutter in moments like these. When doom was on the horizon and the sky was thick with dust and the cries of dying men. Their heart beats slowed. Life flowed through them as their teeth ground and their grips on their weapons tightened. Their heart beat was the same as the Knight asking for blessing.

"Is tha' comin' this way? A fuckin' firestorm? what the 'ell are we going to do?" one of the soldiers along the walls whispered, almost as though he were trying to figure out a solution that was far beyond him and not out of fear. There could be no fear when the gods gripped and slowed your heart that way. He simply lacked understanding.

"We stand fast, friend," Solon responded calmly and breathed deeply. "And give me a bit of room to work. We will survive this."

Some solutions to large problems required a simple touch...

 

[Mercia]

FOR JUSTICE MY ASS
[they’re coming straight up from Alliria’s center idk]​

Lyra wanted what any high-maintence girl wanted: to not work and to only receive. But here she was, working, and not in the way she was used to working by dancing and singing and looking pretty and taking her clothes off. No, instead, the little Rootrock duo that made up her boyfriend and his equally altruistic nephew, had somehow convinced her that she needed to save Alliria, a place she had once called her home when she worked at the Lilac Lounge.

Okay, fine, it was really because she realized that if the city was destroyed and ransacked then she couldn’t retrieve her favorite pair of heels that she had somehow left behind in the city and really, she needed those shoes. And if those heels got a single scratch on them because of some nasty, gnarly orc man that smelled like a dead fish then she would burn Alliria down to the ground herself.

If she couldn’t have nice things then no one could have nice things.

“Hurry up.” She snapped, getting down on her hands and knees. In recent times it had proven to be much easier to have the kobolds mount her while she was still in her human form before she transformed into her true being: an extremely long silver dragon that resembled more of a snake than it did some bumpy, grumpy lizard with wings.

Too bad not all dragons were as pretty as her, but that was why Lyra drew the eye toward her. The moment the two kobolds were on her back, the air around them froze and then shimmered so bright it must have been seen from all around them. The air grew heavy with strong magic as Lyra transformed, a bright iridescent flash and then there she was in all of her glory: silver and sleek and star bright than anything else in the world. The air around her fizzed, due to her plasma-like body temperature and then she shot up into the sky, a snarling, fearsome, vicious—

Scratch that, she flew into the sky, radiating and stunning and gorgeous (yes, much better, much much better) silver river, her crown glinting as her blue topaz eyes looked down into the fray from her position at the city’s center, airborne. (Now that’s how you write a lady.)

“I’m not saying for justice.” Lyra reminded her knight in shining armor as her body sinuously coiled up its near hundred and eighty foot length.

 

[Methuselah]

Before the Siege​

"Are they close?" A small voice was all he could hear.

Some people had fled the city, some had taken up arms to fight the encroaching evil, but there were those too young or too old to risk the travel. These people had responded to the coming siege in many ways. Large groups of mostly defenseless people were packed in areas where they could try to avoid any fallout from the attack. The city had actually swelled in size as outlying countrywomen and children had made their way to the city proper. Hoping to hide behind its thick walls.

Methuselah found himself within one of these bastions of safety before the assault had started. He looked over the crowd of people and felt a sorrow that they'd somehow gotten trapped in a battlefield. People that had just wanted to make a livelihood.

The Knight had always been known for a lighthearted disposition and positive outlook on the world at large.

"You have a darkness in you, Methuselah. You've been through a raw deal, so I get it, but you can't let that darkness decide your fate."

He'd always tried to embrace the dark with the light, and use both for what he saw as right. Some days it was harder than others. He squat next to the child who asked the question earlier.

The boy looked part scared and part in awe of Methuselah as the knight asked, "Do you like birds?"

The little child looked confused at the question for a second but cautiously nodded in affirmation. The knight let out a high and clear whistle that reverberated through the chamber. From a small crack in the door flew a small crow that came to perch itself on a finger he held up.

"This is Malgamortious." Methuselah motioned for the boy to hold out his hand, "He's a smart little crow. He'll keep watch outside, and if anything is going to get near he'll come let you know."

"D-- do- Does he speak?" The boy stuttered out as he let Malgamortious sit on his finger.

Methuselah had already stood back up as he responded over his shoulder, "When the need arises. He is shy, though."

The Dark Knight had left familiars throughout the city to warn citizens. It was a small investment of magic, all things considered. He was much more comfortable with conjuring familiars than he was with his skills as a necromancer, although the other was considered his more potent magic. For some reason, as he left the building and approached his horse, he felt as though today would be one of those days. One of those days where the hope of peace failed and he would have to embrace that darkness that he tried so desperately to keep away.

The trot of Kadmos' feet echoed quietly in an oddly hushed city. The great gasp of silence before the roar.

Several Hours Later
​

It was a host the size of which he'd rarely seen before. His hand clutched at his sword, as if his blade alone could fight back the hordes that now beseeched them. If only it were so, he'd be more than willing to lay his life down to prevent the inevitable destruction that would be wrought today. He had no desire for violence. It had never been his style, but he would embrace it when the time came.

For now, he was much more useful as a forward scout. His familiars were silent eyes throughout the sky. They turned and twisted with little notice from the enemies as crows were all too common in these parts.

He'd taken up post next to Solon for the simple fact that he knew the man, and trusted his instincts. Information was only so valuable as it was able to be properly utilized, and he could always get messages to other defenders if need be. For now, he felt that unity within the Knights would be the best strategic plan. Especially, since he intended to make more supportive efforts until the fighting became closer at hand. His powers of necromancy paled in comparison to this Emerald Death. It was of no consequence, though. These were reckless, unmindful creatures. Careful planning and thoughtfulness always won out in the end. Or so he thought.

"Is that a bloody dragon?" He blurted out as he was alerted from one of his scouts.

"Your crows just notice the big green bastard on the treeline, aye there Methuselah?" A particularly quippy soldier was brave enough to ask.

He gave him a scowl that he immediately realized was hidden by his helmet as he said, "What? No, from the city. Is that thing on our side?"

 

[Ignisa Aravell]

The Main Assault
Defending the Walls

When Tarnossë Aravell sent their trade delegation to Alliria, most powerful and elaborate of the cities that Tarnossia engaged in trade with, they had not expected for the city to be subject to an attack led by a dragon, nor an entire horde of orcs that had somehow not been tracked down and destroyed. For the White City was a city of wealth, and that wealth was jealously hoarded, guarded by the finest guards that money could buy. And any threat to that power, in all the centuries that Tarnossia had engaged Alliria in trade with, had been quickly and easily extinguished. That such a large force had somehow managed to gather and march up right on the doorstep of perhaps the largest city in all Arethil was a stunning oversight of whoever had been managing the defense of the city. Perhaps the person in charge had been in the pay of the raiding force? That they'd get a share of the loot when all was said and done?

Ignisa did not know and did not care. Nor did she care to see the city looted and burned, nor access to the nearby Portal Stone that facilitated trade between Tarnossia and Alliria fall into the hands of raiding parties that could then jump at will into the kingdom of Tarnossia. Tarnossë Sharion already had enough problems guarding against the territories of Vel Anir without yet another enemy to worry about.

Thankfully however, regardless of however the raids had managed to get this close to the city boundaries itself, the defenders were rallying, with mages and warriors aplenty rising to the defense of the city that they shared a stake in. After all, money bought magic, and magic bought money. Ignisa would not be surprised to find some of the best mages from the College of Elbion hired here for a variety of reasons. But she would not be surprised to find some here as Battlemages, even if they paled in comparison to the Dreadlords of Vel Anir.

But Tarnossia and Vel Anir had been engaged in skirmishes along the borders of the Falwood ever since the end of the Second Elven war. Though it had never escalated to full-blown war, with Vel Anir unwilling to test the Elves a third time, the Tarnossians had learned harsh lessons from their initial victory and subsequent defeat. Though they had no force equivalent to the Dreadlords specifically, almost every elf of Tarnossia was gifted with some affinity for magic, and Tarnossë Ermaya had spent centuries learning to exploit the gift of magic that the elves were blessed with.

"I sense pyromancy." Ignisa heard Aorion call from the side, striving to be heard above the fray. There were fifty elves on the wall, all a part of the trade delegation that Aravell had sent to Alliria a week or so ago. Standing no more than a few feet from each other, psions stood at the back, protecting the rest of the elves with invisible shields of pure force against which arrows and projectiles clattered harmlessly against and fell back to the ground below. An orc who had somehow managed to make it past the defenders' magic spells and ballistas charged the wall, somehow believing that a single person would become the hero of the raiding party.

Ignisa snorted and snapped a finger. A thin needle of fire shot from her fingers and stabbed through his brain, and the orc dropped like a stone, muscles still twitching.

And then she felt it, the build-up of pyromancy magic that swirled and crackled, a raging, barely checked torrent behind the armies that sallied forth and died against the barrage of spells and projectiles. It was magic that mingled with the forest fire beyond, drawing upon it and feeding upon it, yet in turn fueling it to incredibly dangerous levels. But such a concentration of magic was hard to ignore, and Ignisa glanced at the clouds above, the smoke and heat from the blazing inferno beneath triggering convection. And from there, it was just a bit of an effort to ...

Lightning danced amongst the clouds, illuminating the armies below, before several bolts lanced right down into the heart of the burning flames at the source of the fire.

Visha Sofka
Geladryx
Elra Mistfall

 

[Dauner]

Left Flank
Behind The Lines​

---

Dauner took a quick look around him. He was now behind enemy lines, but not too far from the frontline. Should the need arise, there was enough space to retreat to friendly waters.
He then looked towards the dragon. It was still far ahead. Getting to it would prove to be tricky. His eyes finally settled on the undead warrior that blocked his path.
He wasn't sure if the void Vardan referred to was the void between worlds, or if it was just another name for demonic energy on Arethil. But one thing he was sure of, was that he didn't like the skelly's attitude.
"How disrespectful" Dauner sighed. It wasn't often that he got spoken to so dismissively by an undead. If the guys back in his home world knew about this, they'd probably die of laughter.
"Ok, listen up, skelly. I'm only here for the lizard, so as long you don't stand in my way, I can let you live long enough to play a few more rounds with the kids back there. Deal?"
Although Dauner was confident in carving a path to the dragon himself, he wasn't confident in his stamina holding up long enough to see him slay it.

---

The Main Assault
Defending the walls​

---

One by one, the resurrected soldiers opened their eyes, once again facing the battlefield they had just lost their lives on. They remembered clearly that a moment ago, they were crossing into the underworld, but then were pulled back by something.
Somehow, they felt much different from before. Their senses were sharper and they felt stronger too. What was the cause of this transformation? They wondered, but what they wondered more about, was how they were even alive.
It wouldn't be long before they all hear the message lingering in their minds.

"Meet me on the battlefield"​

They began to feel a strong compulsion, forcing them to follow the instructions, and they could do nothing to resist it. If they tried, they would be assaulted by immeasurable pain in their heads. A few of them soon found out about this the hard way.

Vardan​

 

[Meepo]

Two weeks ago...

"Uncle Meepo.. You'll be in charge for this outreach mission. Last we heard, Solon and Methuselah should be in the region should you need aid.. and I mean it.. no making waves." Helena would say with a gentle tone and her ever so serious gaze, which she could never hold for long.

Meepo puffed out his chest as he hopped onto her desk. "Meepo and Beowoof make.. no waves." She smiled, he howled, they hugged, and he went on his merry way.

Present...

Alliria, the gem of the East? Well, it wasn't that far east.. it fact it was west for them. So definitely the gem of the West. It also happened to be one of the dens where the Tales of Meepo had made their way (or it could have been the Merchant Lords he saved in the wild, or his rescue of Lyra) so though he didn't have a statue, he had a plaque. Meepo had brought a band of squires and a few knights to Alliria to see the sights, spread the word, and do some good. In reality, his big booty dragon goddess needed to return home to reclaim some belongings and dragons needed their treasure and he lived to worship he-dragons. Well, metallic dragons.

Beowoof would be the first to smell it.. the stench of Stinking Evil. It was unforgivable.. and so as the enemy marched on the walls, Beowoof would bark, leading Meepo and Lyra to an overlook where they would find Ark and the rest of their party.


"O-wooh!" Meepo would howl. "Look who yous found Woof, with your unerring sense of corgi direction! This is a reunion of heroes-ooohhh!!" Another heroic howl. "All evil will quiver before us like so much rancid jelly!"

An explosion would sound behind them as spells from the enemy streaked overhead and Meepo would look after them.. "Kenric, Paffa, go helps them!" The other Knights and most of the squires would run off to do as ordered.

Meepo's gaze fixed on his nephew. "Ark! We shall deal a considerable wallop of justice!"

"Hurry up."

His lady love would snap and Meepo would waste no more time scrambling up his goddesses shapely rear and clambering up to her shoulder where he gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other would draw his sword. "Buttkicking for GOODNESS!!!" he would shout, howling as she shifted into her dragon form. Evil beware, for they are about to star in ¡¡¡¡THE ADVENTURES OF MEEPO THE MAGNIFICENT AND LYRA THE MAJESTIC!!!!..and Ark.

Now clinging to her crown heroically (obviously), the enchanted clothing he got her would make the saddle that Ark could ride in. Then he saw it... the chromatic and his eyes narrowed. "JUMP ON MY SWORD WHILE YOU CAN, EVIL! MEEPO WILL NOT BE SO GENTLE!!"

Below, the people cheered, today Evil would know fear..

Lyra Arkobold

 

[Arkobold]

"I hurry, I hurry!" Arko called out, a basket full of bolts strapped to his back and a the fancy crossbow Roki gifted him being cradled in his arms like a baby. It made hopping onto Lyra... difficult to say the least. And when she transformed into her great beautiful noodly form, he near fell off. Luckily, his uncle had prepared a pretty nifty contraption just for him, and he managed to latch on to the saddle before the rush of air knocked him clean off.

Eyes squeezing against the surge of atmosphere, the squire managed to work his small and scaly self onto the saddle without dropping his crossbow. He had lost a few bolts, sure, and that did suck. He had crafted them himself! But, he had plenty left over. And a rack of six locked and loaded in the finely tuned weapon that sat so firmly in his lap.

A yelp and a scratchy little screech escaped his throat, as they road up and up and his uncle shouted his war cry.

There was a big dragon! That was scary. But Lyra was big too, so... no that was still scary. And down bellow there were so many bodies and shapes and things happening. Arko felt his lips tingle with electricity as Lyra coiled and struck a pose. She moved so fast and coily and wriggly! Like a fish. A really long noodly fish.

"Uncle," Arko said weakly, little claws clutching tightly to his loaded crossbow as bolts rattled and shook in his quiver basket behind him. "I think I will be sick," a burp escaped him, and webs of lightning sizzled about his tiny toothy maw.

Lyra Meepo

 

[Vardan]

Left Flank
Behind the Lines - Observing Hillside

Blackburn Fane | Dauner | Geladryx

"'Skelly'?" Vardan echoed, perhaps out of a gentle shock more than anything else. He shook his head. "Thou seeks an audience with Geladryx, then - the Emerald Death, and master of this dread host. I shan't belay thee."​

​

If this baseborn imbecile managed to kill Geladryx, then he had never been worth serving in the first place.​

​

Behind Vardan, a pair of lesser necromancers chalked out a ritual circle on the barren earth, muttering incantations to themselves. They had hesitated when Dauner landed, but seeing that Vardan and Blackburn had not reacted with violence, resumed their activities cautiously.​

​

Vardan spread his hands, "I am sure he will be fain to make thine acquaintance. But thou wilt have little luck in reaching his roost alone."​

​

He looked to his retainer. "Blackburn. I shall abide alone awhile. Escort this blackguard to the master."​

​

Vardan did not wait for confirmation. He waved, again dismissively, and would let the lowborns figure it out among themselves.​

 

[Jason Chronicles]

In the Spine, when the winter snows are deep and all huddle in the long houses before the hearth fire’s glow, they sing of the deeds of heroes. Warriors of great renown who by their force of arms and guile brought glory to their tribe. These mighty ancestors looked down upon the actions of their children’s children.

Khurash could feel them watching.

He had failed them once.

The climb to greatness was not easy, full of loose rocks and made slippery by the ice of weakness in mind and body. He would not fall from the path again.

The paladin’s hand came up and pushed Khurash’s strike aside. A dismounting kick - impressive for one clad in full plate armor - sent the orc backward and a sword stroke cut a thin line along his chest, drawing blood. Had it been a more focused blow it would have cleaved him in half.

The man knight began to speak many words. So many words. All said in the way such men in armor speak. Foolish and full of hot air. They did not know the cold of the mountains, nor the sudden stillness of the pines. What did their gods know? Why would he serve them when his own had seen him bestowed with thirteen scalps in two battles?

Khurash paced before him as he talked, a circle formed, an absence, as wargs - protected by runes - crashed through magic shields and collided with cavalry and began to tear the horses apart. They had hooves, yes, but fang and claw would win this day. What hope did prey animals have against the predator on even footing? The battle began to tip in favor of the orcs as their mounts proved more than capable of bringing down a full warhorse mid stride. Even the new reinforcements pouring out from the city would likely have difficulty navigating the slums, especially as warg riders began tossing torches into hovels, setting the place ablaze.

Above their heads, a shot from a defender arced high into the air. Some overzealous orc archer raised his own bow and - desperate for a feat - managed to shoot it out of the sky. Something to boast of that night around the fires.

Khurash, weary of the slew of words from the man-knight, charged in, swinging axe and knife in a flurry of blows meant to crush weak joints in the armor and thrust through gaps.

Be'sennar

 

[Blackburn Fane]

Left Flank
Behind the Lines - Observing Hillside

Vardan | Dauner | Geladryx

Blackburn Fane stared at the creature plopping down right in front of them with something of skepticism. Why was it that any time a blackguard horde of evil doers tried to sack a city a whole gaggle of renegade miscreants showed up to protect said city?

"Sure, Ser. But uh..." He leaned in to whisper something to Vardan. "You do realize the city's probably gonna win, right? They got a whole gaggle of diverse characters. That's usually a winning format. 'Unlikely allied misfits band together to save town', how often have we seen that before. You sure you don't want to retreat while we still can?"

It was all the same to Fane.

If he died now, he'd wake up again in some freshly dug grave no worse for wear. Vardan might be already dead, but trying to bind himself to another set of bones would probably be a pain in the arse.

Anyway.

It was clear that Vardan was quite set in his quest, so Fane sighed and shrugged at Dauner.

"Sure, lad. I will show you to our uh... 'Master'." You could practically feel the quotation marks. Sure, Geladryx was mighty impressive and powerful, but what had he done lately for Fane?

Or Vardan for that matter.

He really wasn't sure why they were fighting for some evil talking serpent. Was there not a better way to figure out an evil pecking order?

"So, what do you do in your spare time?" Fane's attempt to start up a casual conversation was a bit awkward, but that was to be expected. What did you have to talk about with some fancy dark-cloaked guy who dropped out of the sky out of nowhere and reeked of black magic?

The weather?

"Besides trying to defend some rich arse city anyway. Got any hobbies?"

As they walked Fane waved away a set of guards that were guarding the perimeter around Vardan's ritual. If the boss man wanted Dauner to meet Geladryx? Who was Fane to argue.

 

[Rob Yew]

Galen didn’t recognize himself anymore. Helping an army led by a dragon attack one of the largest cities in the world. But Geladryx… he had seemed so convincing. There was something Galen needed from the city. Something they would never let him have willingly.

You are learning, child.

The voice seared through his mind like a hot iron and he physically flinched. No use trying to talk to him though, he had been down that road before.

Smoke rose from the trees and burning siege engines. The smell hung thick in the air, along with the distant sounds of screams and the clash of weapons.

The young warlock, who only wore simple traveling clothes and a satchel, walked through a crowd of chanting shamans and toward a lone Lich.

“Hey.”

Vardan

 

[Be'sennar]

A wargs charge was indeed mighty, as were their runes, but so too was the blessing of the gods, and those could not be defeated by mere markings. Many of the Paladins were still armed with lances, so when the Wargs leapt for their horses, they would either be forced to skewer themselves on lances or pull back on the charge, along with the rows of speared infantry now jointing them. With the Paladins and their allies bolstered by their gods, the lines would hold firm. The slaughter that should have been, didn't. The ground gained by the decimation of undead was getting turned back by the wave of orcs. Such was the ebb and flow of battle.

The slums ablaze? That would have been a tragedy had they not been evacuated prior to the strike, nor had they not prepared water for when it was fired. It was the most base of attacks. The Allirians had done all the preparation they possibly could have done and the straw thatching was smeared with mud and would hopefully keep from the fires getting too large to maintain.

Now as the Redeemer looked across at his foe, he would begin to recognize the symbols and the markings. It had felt as if it had been many lifetimes since he was last in the Spine, where the Day of Ascension was celebrated, the day of his rebirth.

The veracity of such a young man as he charged forward, Nykoria would give him the strength to weather the storm and experience would guide his blade effortlessly through the first string of attacks. The next flurry would lead to dagger scraping along the cuirass. He knew in a match of pure strength, an orc could surely overpower him, but God's above, the Paladin did not stand alone. "I don't doubt your heart, son. I worry for your soul." These orcs weren't the undead, they had known a life threatened by man, life taken advantage of by the predatory dragon. The undead could find peace, escape from their suffering, the orcs could find redemption.

He would shift his stance, and bow into more of his skill as the orc continued to add more strength to his attacks. Catching the axe, he would sidestep and twist, attempting to throw Khurash off balance with his own weight, before aiming a slash at the orcs side, and if allowed, carry it to the spine. He preferred to not kill this foe, but to incapacitate him would be a good start.

As the orcs arrow collided with the radiant arrow, it would flash in a brilliant at bright array, the sparks that fell from it would shower down on some undead, turning some to ash. Mages on the wall would begin to erect a wall of fire amidst the ranks of wargs in an attempt to trap some and cut them off from their fellows. Though the flames were intense and the heat near blinding, the brave could surely jump through.

Khurash Elra Mistfall

 

[Geladryx]

The Hilltop
Auxilliaries at the Rear Line

The Ballistae had been largely ineffective against the Outer Walls. Orcs that crewed the war machines were fast at work reeling in the chains that remained functional and loading new projectiles to fire. As the Allirian Defenders loosed arrows from the walls the Trumpeter that stood near Geladryx would sound the alert.

Amongst the back ranks of the Horde were Archers, Auxiliaries, etc. As the warning sounded many of them took cover behind pavices that had been constructed for exactly that purpose. It wasn't uncommon for Archers and others in the back ranks to create defenses against attacks at range. The Ballistae Crew weren't in a much different position, when the trumpet sounded many of them scattered.

Of course there were injuries, deaths, etc. Orcs who were unable to find cover or were just unlucky were struck down by the flight of arrows. Furthermore some of the Ballistae were lit aflame, a single arrow was hardly a threat but these were arrows in a multitude.

When any survivors from the barrage of arrows regrouped they would return to their stations. For the Ballistae Crews that meant several Orcs taking up buckets and water from stores kept during the crossing of the Allir Reach. Water once meant to quench the thirst of warrior and beast now helped to snuff the flames that threatened many of the Ballistae.

-------

The Hilltop

Geladryx had no fear of the arrows. At the distance the Dragon had placed himself it would take more than the arm of a mortal man to fire an arrow that would reach him and even though it would take more than that to penetrate the scales that lined his torso. Narrowing his eyes the breast of the dragon rose as he took a breath, keen senses alerted to a change in the atmosphere as Vardan and his cohort let an interloper pass.

"Signal another volley."

...the words hissed from the dragon and the Trumpeter sounded again. As this was occurring Geladryx, who remained on his haunches with his tail swishing idly at his rear pinpointed what he was looking for.

Vardan and the Undead that he commanded were not terribly far from the Dragon though Auxiliaries remained dotting the landscape between them, putting some bodies between Geladryx and Dauner. Even at a distance where to a mans eyes Dauner may have seen small to Geladryx, his senses and eyesight surpassing the norm zoomed closer allowing him to examine him.

The Dragon, his right forelimb lifting and turning so that pad was upright would have had hissed...

"You've come a long way, just to fail. Perhaps I can offer an alternative."

...the hiss, almost silent as Geladryx spoke the words would resound through the battlefield and wind into the minds of those nearby almost as though it were an echo. Spittle, a dirty bile leaked from the maw of the dragon into the upturned pad of his forelimb though its purpose at this time remained unknown and unseen by anyone except those closest to him.

-------

The Hilltop
Auxiliaries at the Rear Line

As for the Ballistae not all them could be saved. Flames claimed some of them, others were extinguished and still more went untouched by pure happenstance.

The Trumpeter had sounded again thanks to the Emerald Deaths command and the Ballistae and Archers responded. The Archers would dip their arrows into pitch this time before torchbearers moved ahead of the lines, lighting those aflame. Bows were angled high and a volley was loosed. Unlike the defending volley that came from the wall the Orcish Archers did not even try, their arrows would arc overhead and come down to the rear of the Defenders lines in the Areck Slums igniting a line at their flanks. It would serve the dual purpose of ensuring the Defenders could not easily retreat while making it equally hard to reinforce them from inside the city.

And the Ballistae, the ballistae fired too. New arrows were loaded, these ones without the chains attacked and the size of a small tree, capable of skewering great beasts in a single shot. The Ballista Bolts were tipped with naptha too. When the Ballistae fired this time the angle was higher, the power of the war machines ensuring the bolts carried high and well over the Outer Walls.

If the Outer Walls stood defiant amidst the battle of the Slums then the Horde would sow chaos in the Outer City. The Ballista Bolts passing over the walls would come crashing down, the naptha would ignite and magnificent explosions would be the result. Soldiers waiting behind the walls would find no shelter. Buildings would suffer damage, those taking cover would be lost in the blasts. No one was safe in Alliria.

Khurash Visha Sofka Elra Mistfall​

 

[Dauner]

Behind Enemy Lines​

---

Dauner had thought he'd have to fight his way through the horde, starting with the undead, but to his surprise, Vardan didn't seem interested in standing in his way. Perhaps there wasn't as much loyalty going around in this merry band of pillagers.

Dauner offered Vardan a smile and a thumbs up. "You're much smarter than I thought" he said looking at the other undead. "At least much smarter than those. Anyway, see you around, skelly" he finished, tapping Vardan on the shoulder, as he followed Fane.

"So, what do you do in your spare time?"

Fane awkwardly tried to strike a conversation with Dauner. Dauner didn't mind the awkwardness, though. He was an open guy who would totally have a very friendly conversation over a cup of tea with someone he'd be trying to cut down in the next coming minutes. To him, the difference between friend and foe was self-interest. "Aside from gathering gold, I like playing around and picking up pretty girls" he said casually. "My charm helps a lot with that" he chuckled.

---

The Hilltop​

---

Upon arriving, Dauner would be welcomed by Geladryx himself. The dragon's words were just about as clear as their meaning. Was the dragon trying to poach him? He wondered, amused. He wanted to slay a dragon, albeit in his weakened state, but he could still listen to what it had to say. Who knows? If the price was right, he might be willing to cooperate with the dragon. But he was still going to kill it in the end, less the dragon presented him to another of its kind for him to do battle with.
"Hm, interesting" he said. "So, what do you propose?"

---

Blackburn Fane | Geladryx​

---

 

[Jane]

THE REDEEMER'S CHARGE​

The world was thrown left and right and left and right in great, heaving arcs as Jane was thrashed. Her face skidded along the ground. She tasted dirt in her mouth and it stuck to her teeth.

The thrashing suddenly stopped.

And the unmounted orc who'd slain her horse was above her—upside down in her vision—his axe raised over his head and ready to deliver a killing blow. Down it swung. Jane desperately lifted her shield, its edges suddenly rimmed with silvery Holy light, and there was a brilliant spark. The axe was repelled and retributive energy stunned the orc, sending him back reeling.

Yet Jane's leg was still caught in the jaw of the Warg.

And, damnable luck as the tide of battle between the orcish riders and the paladins shifted, another Warg and its rider assailed her. This new Warg came rushing up and clamped its maw onto her sword-arm, since her raised shield prevented it from popping her head clean from her shoulders.

Then the two riders conspired maliciously. Their two Wargs, one biting into her left leg and the other into her right arm, began to pull back away from each other—a partial drawing and quartering. Jane screamed her agony aloud. Blinding red pain seared her vision as her leg and her arm felt as though they would at any second be torn from her body, armor and all.

Paladins were coming round for another charge, but Jane couldn't see them. And even if she could, she would have feared that they might be too late.

Be'sennar Khurash Elra Mistfall

 

[Visha Sofka]

THE TREELINE​

Power!

Such! Raw! POWER! And it was all hers. All hers! Now it was her turn, her turn, YES, her turn! Great Maho had passed the torch onto her, she knew it! All she needed to do was find the right cause to get behind and she could show him her magnificent flames! YYYYYYES! Geladryx and his Horde was that cause! The Great Green Dragon wanted to burn Alliria, and Visha was the spark! Once she got done channeling all of this glorious, glorious power, she'd let the Firestorm go and it would wreck havoc on the walls and blow open the city and Great Maho would notice her! Notice her! NOTICE HER!

She just needed to finish gathering as much power as she could. She'd never done so much all at once! It felt like she was balancing a mountain in each hand and one on her nose—and soon she'd have to juggle them! Flames swirled madly around her and she was like the core of a falling star. ALLIRIA'S DOOM!

"Witness me, Great Maho!" Visha said as her arms, her legs, her whole body struggled—even with the Dragon's augmentation—to contain such vast amounts of power coursing through it. She turned her head skyward, emphatic glee splashed across her visage. She called out like a zealous supplicant in the throes of reverential bliss beseeching earnestly their god. "WITNESS ME!"

And it was at this moment that the lightning struck her.

The electricity wracked her already strained body and she lost control of her channeled magic completely. The flames around her went spiraling off chaotically in all directions, striking into the ground and cratering it and into the burnt trees and splintering them and even into some of the orcs manning the Ballistae in the backlines and scorching them. Pops and crackles and explosions thundered all around her. Unbalanced power coalesced critically on her left side.

A great BOOM shook the Treeline and Visha went flying like a payload from a catapult. Her back slammed into a blackened tree and she bounced off of it and went spinning through the air and came to an unceremonious landing flat on the ground.

Her entire left arm was gone. Severed. It had flown the opposite way and lay elsewhere among the trees. The ribs of her left side were exposed through the charred remains of her shirt. Her left breast had been mutilated by the explosion, cut open as if crudely dissected, the edges blackened.

She quivered and spasmed on the ground as her body reeled in the aftermath of the lightning strike and the uncontrolled backlash of her own magic.

"I was...unworthy...of your gift...Great Maho!" she gasped. "I'll...suck less...in the future!"

Ignisa Aravell Geladryx Vardan Dauner Blackburn Fane