Open Chronicles The Siege of Cregsbend Castle

[Ledhros Caur]

CREGSBEND CASTLE
LIADAIN
NIGHTTIME

The castle took a very old form, a motte and bailey some called it. Half of it was a stone redoubt on an artificially steep hill. The other half comprised a village, an encircling bailey wall, and a spike-filled ditch outside said wall. A sloped and covered walkway connected the large lower portion to the overlooking keep.

High on top of the lonely keep, Ledhros chewed on a dried eagle's eye with the lens cut out. Weak mimicry, to be sure, but enough to sharpen his eyesight for a few minutes. He needed to look beyond the anxious guards and mercenaries on the walls. The surrounding land was all shallow hills, thinly forested. A rough march northwest and you'd reach Amol-Kalit; a similar march southeast would take you to land claimed by Vel Anir. Someday in the future, Cregsbend Castle would get annexed or obliterated by one of those expanding powers.

Tonight the problem wasn't imperial ambition. The problem was orcs.

Now, Ledhros had known plenty of fantastic orcs. Drank with them, slept with them, fought alongside them. This particular band of orcish marauders had eaten an entire town. He didn't need the mimicry magic to see the smoke off to the north. It did, however, give him a decent view of the orc advance scouts waiting in the trees.

"Quiet night," said the local lord, one Baron Herriman, with entirely unfounded hope.

Ledhros gave him a scathing look and let that speak for itself. The orcs would attack at dawn, at the absolute latest. Herriman knew it, his men-at-arms and conscripts knew it, and Ledhros' mercenaries knew it.

The gates were barred and braziers lit the walltop. This backwater was as ready as it could be.

Orc horns barroomed in the hills. Ledhros squinted that way but the minor magic couldn't pierce the dark or the forested hills. If he'd had a falcon or eagle to sacrifice, fresh eyes could have given him...fresh eyes on the situation. But that wasn't in the cards. He was almost as blind as the rest of the people trapped in Cregsbend tonight.

 

[Urberus]

A wizened orc with a monkey on his shoulder hobbled over to where the Baron and his retinue stood. He had broad build to him that spoke of a once-vigorous youth, but now he leaned against his staff for support.

"Ah, Maester Urberus," said the buoyant Baron, ignoring more than a few hateful gazes his men were directing at the orc. "Come, join us. Did you find the plants you were looking for?"

"No, no," Urberus shook his head, "My search was... interrupted." He glanced meaningfully toward the sound of horns and wheezed out a chuckle, then stopped when he saw the expression on the faces of the retinue. "Terrible affair. Terrible."

 

[Ledhros Caur]

"A Maester? Of Elbion?" Ledhros looked Urberus up and down. Old but fit enough to reach the roof of the keep. Probably strong by human standards, and his attire and demeanor and title all screamed 'mage of unknown capabilities.' An asset, then. "I'm Ledhros Caur of the Silver Key. My boys don't have any true mages, so you're most welcome. The last thing I need is to go up against some orcish bloodcaster without your kind of backup."

There were torches in the woods now, almost within bowshot. Orc raiders didn't go in for stealth much.

"I'm heading down to the bailey to command the first line of defense. Whether you come with me or stay up here-" He gestured around at the dark woods and walled village below. "-where you can reach out and touch what's coming, that's up to you of course. Both courses would be valuable."

 

[Urberus]

Pale green eyes looked toward the golden-haired warrior, twinkling in the light of the braziers. A man in his prime, brimming with an ardor and alertness.

"I'm afraid I cannot hurl fireballs or lightning. I would be most useless up here. Most useless. Please, lead the way to the bailey. I will do what I can to help, but you will have to excuse an old orc's pace. I am not as swift as I once was and..." A wan smile lit up Urberus' face, "There are a lot of stairs."

Suddenly, the monkey squawked and glared at Ledhros, its tiny, dark eyes full of fury.

"Chime! Don't be rude."

It sulked, arms crossed in a very human fashion atop Urberus' shoulder. The Maester patted the monkey's leg.

"Oh dear. He hates being ignored."

 

[Ledhros Caur]

No fireballs, no lightning - Ledhros tried to keep disappointment off his face, for the sake of the other defenders on top of the keep. But a Maester was a Maester. At minimum the monkey familiar could scratch some eyes out. Pending a nod from Urberus, Ledhros fished out a fragment of jerky and passed it to the simian in question.

He found himself nervous descending the keep's internal stairs, largely because he couldn't see whatever happened outside. Arrow slits gave a poor view, and he wouldn't get a decent one until the bottom of the hill.

The keep's well-fortified gate opened onto steep, largely enclosed stairs. The slope, walls, and sentries made reasonably sure that the enemy couldn't skip the walled village to reach the keep. The open roof allowed archers in the keep to make the stairs into a zone of death if necessary.

He and Urberus emerged from the enclosed stairs at the bottom of the hill.

Judging by the noise coming from part of the wall, the attack wasn't waiting for dawn.

 

[Hath Charosh]

There was an orc on the stairs arguing with one of the guards. Across his back were a pair of unstrung bows and a light spear. An axe hung loosely from his right hand, still dripping blood.

"Who let you out?"

"You, you let me out!" Hath shouted back up incredulously. His human had never been that good, but he suspected that this wasn't an understanding of language.

The guard leaned forwards, holding up his torch. "You were that one? Sorry, you all look alike to me. Thought you was leaving."

"Was the plan," Hath replied. The scouts from the tribe surrounding had not agreed with that plan. The ones he hadn't killed had chased him all the way to the edge of the houses beyond the wall.

"And now you want back in?"

"Standing by the fucking gate, asking to be let in, yeah?" It clear wasn't a matter of misunderstanding. At least it wasn't an accidental one.

 

[Thane Jackdaw]

The soldiers had dragged him out of one of the few cells in Cregsbend Castle's dungeon murmuring how it was his lucky day. Lately, it had been far too often he heard this from guards in dungeons who let him out to do a job for a local liege.

This wasn't any different than Seluca. He ended up nearly disfiguring the faces of three drunk soldiers a few days ago, got arrested and awaited his fate in the hands of one Baron Herriman. Well, fate arrived.

With a kick in his arse by the guards, they sent him down towards the bottom of the hill. The front line of defense to report to the mercenary's captain - Ledhros something. Adjusting his armor and the sheath on his back, Thane reluctantly approached the man and his orc companion.

"The Baron sent me as another lamb to the slaughter." the monster hunter stated tonelessly with a slight hint of sarcasm. Lords loved nothing more than their cannon fodder a la mercenaries to meet the brunt of the enemy's assault. This included monster hunters.

He positioned himself next to the two giving them brief glances before putting on his gloves. There wasn't much else for him to say - he was a monster hunter, not a military strategist.

Once again - out of the frying pan into the fire.

Ledhros Caur Urberus Hath Charosh

 

[Selene Avar]

A frown flickered over her featured beneath her hood, lips thinning as she watched the dozens of lights growing in the distance.

The situation was an unfortunate one. Her stop here at Cregsbend Castle was supposed to have been a short one. A contact was supposed to have met her here yesterday, the castle being far enough out of the way of Vel Anir controlled lands that they could meet safely.

Of course, the contact had never shown, and with the tide of orcs now approaching it was clear to her why. The savages had likely slaughtered him, or worse.

The situation was made worse by the fact of where they were. Selene had disguised herself on the journey here, and that disguise needed to be kept up. Cregsbane was an independent Keep, outside the influence of Vel Anir or the new Empire in the sands.

It also wanted to stay that way.

If anyone found out what she was, that a Dreadlord was standing atop one of their walls, she would be as likely to end up in a cell as she was escaping.

Still, she had managed to talk her away into helping the defense of the Keep. She had made a claim of being a sellsword, flashing the curved sword she carried and the crossbow on her horse. The story had at least earned her a place away from the weeping women in the caverns.

The very thought of being stuck there made he want to wretch.

Her head half turned as bells began to ring, a signal of attack on the west side of the Wooden walls, opposite where she stood.

 

[Ledhros Caur]

(View facing north: keep is on the east, front gate faces west, orcs mainly coming from the north and west.)

The guard at the front gate was under the strictest possible orders not to open said gate, but he sent down a rope to let Hath Charosh back in.

That particular guard promptly took an arrow to the chest. His torch had made an excellent target. The same was true for others foolish enough to carry light sources on the walls. On the plus side, plenty of attacking orcs carried torches too, and walltop archers returned fire.


At the base of the long stairs to the keep, Ledhros flinched as a stray arrow rattled off stone. "So you're the prisoner," he said to Thane Jackdaw. "Lamb to the slaughter, eh? Alright, Lamb, we can definitely put you to use. The main attack's taking shape around the north and west walls. West is the gatehouse so let's call that the priority right now."

 

[Urberus]

The monkey devoured the jerky ravenously.

By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, Urberus looked rather winded. He leaned heavily on his staff for support and merely nodded a greeting to the ex-prisoner. The orc fished in a satchel bag he wore around his shoulder and pulled out a vial, which he unstoppered and drank before putting the vial back into the satchel.

He licked his lips and seemed to stand a little straighter, exhaustion slowly disappearing.

"Yes, the gatehouse. The gatehouse."

The Maester produced two more vials from his satchel and handed one each to the two warriors. They were filled with a sludgy liquid that looked incredibly unappetizing.

"Here, take these. A special draught, for when your own strength is insufficient."

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath had never climbed onto something as quickly as he did that wall, not even a willing female on the night of the Great Rites. An arrow had clattered against the stone just inches from his ear.

The guard went tumbling down past him. Hath felt remarkably little sorrow for the loss as he cambered up onto the wall.

As soon as he was up there he strung his bow. One end was pressed into his foot and he pulled and pushed with two hands to bend the stave and push the string into the groove.

Despite orcs rushing for the moat he did not loose an arrow. Not yet. The humans arrows would be too short for his draw. He needed to conserve what he had.

If only they had let him leave. Instead they had decided that his tribe wasn't the kind they liked and then tried to eat him too.

 

[Aratus Seldomus]

He'd been travelling across the place for quite some time now. Thelios had called him home, but he still had a manner to attend to in the lands south of his home. The warm port city seemed thousands of miles away. Now, he was caught in a war that he had no intention of being a part of. The petty squabbles of barons, orcs, and rebels, vagabonds and knights concerned the man little.

But surviving the onslaught, did.

Shield on his back, sandals walking calmly admist the storm of arrows. The warrior had no qualm with fighting, taking life, or killing. He just wanted to be asleep now more than anything. Fear gripped some men here-

But Aratus was annoyed by the prospect of an orc attack more than afraid.

Aratus evaluated the defenses of his temporary housing. Gatehouse. Walls could be scaled. But Orcs probably didn't want to take their chances with seizing the fort over the walls. He wouldn't. Didn't have the supplies to lay true siege, more than likely. From what he knew of orcs, at least. This could be different, but the randomness of the attack and the lack of identification from the defenders told him what he needed to know. So, for the moment, the man with the distinct sword crouched near the gatehouse, staring out at the darkness, pushing the tip of his sword in the wet soil.

Just waiting.

 

[Selene Avar]

Selene hefted the crossbow that she had carried to the top of the wall, moving the small quiver on her back and adjusting her scythe like sword to ensure it did not get in the way.

As the sounds of battle exploded on the opposite side of the fort, The Dreadlord quietly filled with the string of her crossbow. She had not used the weapon in well over half a decade, at least in battle. There had been a few hunting excursions with lesser nobles, but other than that she had always preferred magic.

It was so much easier to burn a man to death than fire a crossbow.

Still, she remembered her training well enough, and after a few moments she pulled the draw string back and latched it into place. From her quiver she pulled one of the steel tipped bolts, inspecting it before placing it into the housing.

"Y-you ever been in battle before?"​

Her gaze shot up as one of the militia archers spoke up, his voice identifying him as young in years. Red eyes settled on him for a moment, and then slowly she nodded. "I have. In the south."

It was kinder than she usually was, but anything she could do to distance herself from the image of 'Dreadlord' would help her now.

"It's not so bad." She lied to the boy. "Breath. Stay in control, and never turn your back to the enemy."

The boy was shaking, but as Selene spoke he slowly nodded.

 

[Ledhros Caur]

Ledhros accepted the small bottle from Urberus with a nod of thanks. "Don't die, Maester. I get the feeling we'll need your kind of help again before dawn." Not that dawn would drive away the orcish hordes or bring an end to the siege, but these were the kinds of things you were supposed to say.

He tucked the bottle in a belt pouch for a time of need and headed for a small armory station. A Silver Key sergeant, a scarred half-elf, fell into step beside him.

"Where do we stand, Menhir?"

"Holding steady against the main push to.the north and west. A handful of independent sellswords have joined the fight - an orc and a Nordenfiir at the west gatehouse, a red-eyed woman to the east. Where'd you send the blond, sir?"

Ledhros glanced back at Thane Jackdaw, who'd soon be in the same area as Aratus Seldomus and Hath Charosh. "West, if he goes. Prisoner."

Menhir shrugged fluidly. "Where else is he going to go?"

"Fair point." The Silver Key had set up a stock of weapons in the stables. Ledhros picked out a bow and slung a quiver of arrows over his shoulder. "Do me a favour - assign someone to help the old orc I just left. His name's Maester Urberus and he's an alchemist. Bring him anything he asks for."

"I'll make sure of it. Where are you bound, sir?"

Ledhros pointed straight up. "Ridgepole of the stables for now. Clear view of the whole perimeter wall. I saw you've got a couple of archers up there already. Good call."

 

[Thane Jackdaw]

Thane gave the mercenary captain his usual cold stare but said nothing. Referred to as Lamb seemed a bit more comfortable than the time an inn patron complimented his backside.

He nodded as a thanks to the wise looking orc and opened the vial, smelling its content. Through the mix of odors, Thane recognized that of verbana. Whether it was shat on prior to being taken, given the unappetizing appearance, remained a mystery. He set it safely inside his jerkin.

Ledhros something was approached by his aide, a half elf, and the man quickly dispatched the orders. Luckily for Thane, the Baron was not as quick to decisions as the mercenary, otherwise the hunter might've been headless rather than free now.

"Not wrong." he shrugged. Thane really had nowhere to go. Without further words, he headed towards the western gatehouse where ranks were being mustered. There was a growing stillness in the air. The salvo of arrows becoming rarer and the stomping and rattling of the ground becoming prevalent.

The monster hunter unsheathed the steel sword from his back and approached a man dipping his sword in the wet soil beneath his feet.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Thane Jackdaw

It would be a stretch to call this motte and Bailey a castle for Hath after seeing the walls of Elbion. They were common and relatively easy to make. However, the moat, slope and fence would only delay an orc. They could not stand on the wall and pluck away all day.

Hath suspected that it would be chaos soon. In that swirling mess if the defenders decided to flee to the keep on the bailey then there was a good chance the defenders would turn on him. Not deliberately, but in that carnage he would be just another orc running towards the keep.

There would be opportunity to. A better chance to slip away through the orcs. If they wore paint to distinguish themselves then it was only a matter of killing one and spreading some across his own body.

"Here they come," he grunted. Flickering flames reflected in the dark eyes of scores of orcs. They wasted little time before charging into the moat. The first cries were from spikes, not arrows. Hath drew and let loose with his first arrow. He sent an orc tumbling back down the slope, she rolled through several spikes, collapsing them to stop at the bottom in a heap of bodies. Unfortunately her body cleared the way for several more.

Every arrow had to count.

 

[Arianrhod]

Arianrhod stabbed down a final time and twisted. The human convulsed and stopped moving. She pulled out her dagger and licked the hot blood off the blade, closing her eyes to better savour the taste. A delightful giggle escaped her.

She reluctantly got to her feet, kicking the corpse over. She was never good at gauging their ages but she wagered the human had seen more than twenty summers. He'd been lightly clad, dressed for swift travel. It hadn't done him much good, they'd caught him barely two hundred yards from the wall. It didn't matter who the messenger had been sent to, they weren't going to be getting word anytime soon.

Curse Dearbhaile's aim! Her shot had been a killing one and ensured that their quarry was poor sport. He'd have died in the next few minutes even if they hadn't caught him. At least they had the body, they'd still get something out of it. Meat if nothing else.

"You take the head" she told Dearbhaile. The other elf bowed her own in acknowledgement before stooping to start decapitating her prize. There was a murmur of protest from the others but a simple look from Arianrdhod quelled any dispute.

Her foot lashed out at Dearbhaile, sending the elf sprawling onto the ground. Arianrhod planted her boot firmly on her neck, just enough to cut off air. "And watch your aim" she growled. She'd cost them an evening's entertainment. Turgeis was an expert at making a captive's screams sing.

She released Dearbhaile and turned to study the castle. More of a ruin in her eyes. Arianrhod cared little for strongholds but it never ceased to amaze her how humans seemed to butcher even basic architecture. Her eyes flickered to the lights of the orc camp. Not that her temporary allies were much better.

Animals. Little camp discipline and their war council had resulted in two brawls. This band's tactics could be ground down to 'Straight up and at them'. An escalade then, running in a screaming mass for the walls while other volunteers (the lunatics had actually clamoured at the chance to go for the gates) used felled trees to batter at the gatehouse.

"D'arvit" she muttered, stringing her bow and moving into a long loping run. Her band fanned out in a skirmish line. They were aiming for the darkest part of the walls, moving to within bowshot before they began shooting in an effort to keep the defenders' heads down.

 

[Aratus Seldomus]

Thelios bred warriors, soldiers.

Hiding behind walls was a foreign concept for the Athallian. Thelios had no walls, only strong defenders- and so far, had been unattainable by any power coming for it. Orcs had come before to take Thelios. That year, their grain grew tenfold, thanks to the blood the orcs so kindly provided.

It explained why Aratus was so eerily calm in the midst of all of this. He dropped to his knees, armored shinguards digging into the mud. He adjusted his gear, vambraces and the iron cuirass that protected him. He reached to his side, donning a rather ornate and unique helmet. After all, he was an oddity here. Men did not wear skirts here- and Aratus wondered how they moved comfortably. His feet found purchase in the ground, and he rose to a stand, ripping the sword out of the ground.

No time for prayers, caution, or hope.

He looked over at the white-haired man to his right, but found no reason to say anything currently. He had a growing suspicion that the man shared the sentiment as well. No use wasting breath, and nothing was to be said currently. Aratus reached to his back and removed the circular shield, lacing his arm through the bindings on it. It was a part of him, more or less at that moment. Where the shield went, he went. Thelios was not known for it's walls- but it was damn well known for it's shields, and it's defenders wielding them.

It was then that Aratus got a view of the attackers.

Sloppy, undisciplined, lacking uniform, lacking hygiene.

And the Athallian began to laugh, a hearty, honest laugh. He seemed less than worried.

 

[Urberus]

"Yes, set the cauldron down right here."

Thwock.

"Oh dear, more arrows. Sounds like they're beginning in earnest."

The gruff serjeant from the Silvery Key free company blew out his cheeks as he and another mercenary set the cauldron over a fire pit.

"Thank you, thank you," wheezed Urberus.

"How long is this going to take, anyway?" asked the serjeant.

"Alchemy is as much art as science. It cannot be rushed," then the old maester shooed the mercenaries away while he began dumping things from his satchel into the cauldron before igniting the logs beneath it with a snap of his fingers.

Fireballs, no. Sparks, yes.

 

[Selene Avar]

Selene stood quietly on the wall, holding her crossbow and narrowing her eyes into the night.

There were those Dreadlords who could enhance themselves with magic enough to see as the Elves did, but her talents did not lay in such places. She could have lit the entire night's sky, but the method of doing so would have been too obvious. Everyone would know what she was, so instead she simply stood on the wall and waited.

The boy besides her seemed to shake and jitter, his hands gripping tightly on his now as he looked back towards the west where the sounds of battle were still echoing. He looked dlike he wanted to run.

"Shouldn't we go and he-"

"No." Selene answered curtly. This was no regular army, but it didn't change tactics. You didn't abandon you potion, not even if battle was going on elsewhere. If there was a call, yes, but so far none such call had been made.

Slowly Selene went down to one knee, letting her crossbow rest on her leg as she let out a small yawn.


"But they're fighting over there. We should go hel-"

The boy had turned around to look towards the other walls, his words suddenly cutting off. Selene looked. Up at him, spotting the arrow that had lodged itself through his mouth an in his throat. Her lips thinned in disgust, and then she heard the slap of flesh against rock. Her gaze shifted, and she saw the graan palm of an Orc grasping onto the side of the palisade. Her crossbow raised, and the bolt shot in an instant.

There was a loud thunk and then a scream as the bolt pinned the Orc to the wall. "ORCS! ORCS TO THE EAST!"

Selene bellowed as loud as she could as she reloaded her crossbow.

The orcs had been smarter than assumed. They'd used the attack from the north and the west as a distraction, hoping the defenders to the east would be blindsided and allow for a stealthy night time attack.

 

[Thane Jackdaw]

In the midst of trying to slice off orcish limbs trying to climb over the wall, Thane noticed a slightly different pattern to the salvo of arrows being let loose. Freezing in one place trying to figure it out, the proof of his pondering grazed his left arm and landed right between him and an orc bowman (Hath Charosh). An arrow, but vastly different to the rest. He plucked it off the ground and inspected it.

Elven made.

What the hell is going on?

He snatched a mercenary running by who tried to protest unsuccessfully. Thane's grasp was tight as Anirian chains.

"Tell your commander there's hostile elves somewhere out there!" the monster hunter ordered. The mercenary attempted to protest once more but Thane's glare ended the negotiations. If Ledhros Caur wasn't aware yet from his vantage point, a messenger soon would notify him.

If that wasn't enough - a cry broke through the commotion. Heard only either by veteran soldiers who could make out whispered orders in the heat of battle or those with supernatural hearing. Thane fell in the latter category, for worse.

There was no other 'messenger' he could use to send notice to the mercenary chief. It hardly mattered, he would've probably heard the cry anyway.

He stood his ground here until there was a change of orders.

Like a Lamb to the slaughter.

 

[Aratus Seldomus]

Elves working with orcs. He'd barely been out of Thelios for a month and had seen a lot of new things. But the prospect of dying to an elf only enraged Aratus. Orcs came over the wall, seizing a gap in the line. While momentarily breaking from fighting with the white-haired monster hunter, Aratus sprinted full-force at the orcs, shield first. The shield, clambered off the face of an orc. Bone, blood, and teeth splattered over the battlements, and sent the orc tumbling over back to his comrades outside the castle with a sickening crunch.

Like at the coronation of Gerra, Aratus fought like a demon, or the devil himself. His attacks were vicious and calculated. His movements were that of a professional soldier. By the time he made it back to Thane Jackdaw, he had killed almost a dozen orcs. The sword he used was particularly useful- flat at the end, larger to allow for a better slashing motion.

An arrow caressed the faceplate of his helmet, sending sparks and a light trickle of blood. Arnor turned to face it the shot, raising his shield to block the next salvo. Aratus, not well versed in the sounds of the people here- turned to face the monster hunter- staring him down, before facing the orcish onslaught-

and then he spun around, catching an Orc on the battlement by the throat with his shield. He looked over, eyes narrowing. His people were bred for war- but even seeing at night was not something they did particularly well. But he heard the cries, and could make out the words 'East' being repeated.

East.

Aratus motioned for Thane to follow him, taking his sword and banging it across his shield, gathering attention. Aratus made for the eastern portion of the wall, aiming to catch the would-be intruders in a brutal counter-attack, and garnering attention by banging on his shield as a way to get the defenders to rally to him.

 

[Ledhros Caur]

The large stable's roof gave Ledhros a clear shot at the north and west, where, until now, the orcs had devoted most of their force. Shouts and messengers indicated an attack to the east as well, perilously close to the base of the stairs. He had a very limited reserve, a dozen Silver Key axemen with short bows. When he sent a whistle-arrow soaring over the east wall, they joined Aratus Seldomus to reinforce Selene Avar at the east wall. That was a good killing ground: the orcs would be under flanking fire from the keep high overhead while they charged the spiked dry moat and the village wall. With hope and luck, they'd hit the wall in earnest around the same time as the reinforcements arrived.

The north remained a problem, the kind of problem that was rapidly depleting Ledhros' arrows. With a grimace, he skidded down the roof and a splintery ladder.

Baron Herriman's pride and joy was a massive boar, the sire of innumerable piglets. The pig weighed as much as two soldiers. It reigned over its pen supreme. When Ledhros wrapped Urberus' little bottle in jerky and tossed it in, the boar accepted the offering as its just due.

When Ledhros put an arrow through its eye, the boar felt immeasurable surprise.

Time mattered. Ledhros hurdled the fence, slipping in the slop, and cut the boar's throat. Rank blood sloshed out by the bucketful. He rinsed his hands in it and wiped it across his face, drawing on the mimicry his Elven mother had taught him once upon a time.

This sacrifice was no dried bird's eye. No indeed.

 

[Selene Avar]

The odd scythe like sword she carried wrenched itself free from the orc's throat with the grotesque sound of ripping sinew.

Selene kicked the creatures flailing body from the wall, sending him tumbling back down onto the ground and into his fellows. Another quickly climbed up, taking his place and swinging his axe high to cleave Selene in two.

She quickly stepped to the side, catching the man's belly and slicing it open in one smooth stride.

A curse left her throat as that orc crumpled onto the wall and fell into the fort. Another of his compatriots immediately climbed to take his place, not getting as far as his friend as Selene sliced off his hands at the wrist.

In the dark she could not see how many orcs there were left at the base, but the constant hail of arrows that attempted to reach her was telling.

More than a few defenders around her had fallen, Milita men that had been ripped by saw-toothed blades or bitten into by jagged arrowheads. Frustration bloomed inside her, and she realized as they became more and more pressed her choices would become more narrow.

If things kept up she would have to reveal herself.

 

[Urberus]

Urberus picked up the monkey from his shoulder and held him out over the now bubbling cauldron.

"I believe it is time. Yes, yes. It is time."

The monkey let out a delighted squawk, then Urberus dropped him into the cauldron.

"In you go, Chime."

The Maester began muttering under his breath and drug his staff in the ground as he made a circle in the grass around the cauldron. He took handfuls of powder from a bag and tossed them in once, twice, three times, each time causing an explosion of fire from the cauldron and a puff of red smoke.

Something was squealing inside the cauldron. Probably the monkey.

But as the squeals continued, they grew in depth and volume, becoming howls, then earth shaking roars.

The cauldron shook, vibrated, then blew apart as an enormous ape-like creature unfurled from its midst, coated in a slick and slimy substance. It stood taller than any orc or ogre, with grotesque bands of red musculature pulsating along its body. External bones covered its ribcage and in place of fingers on its massive paws it had claws as long as swords. But in its unusually small head and massive black-white mane stared two beady eyes of familiar rage.

"Hello Chimera." Urberus smiled.

The monstrosity roared.

"Go on."

It bolted away, tearing up the ground as it moved on all fours, jumped onto the roof of the granary, then leapt onto the bailey, then over the eastern wall.

The sound of screaming and horrible noises like ripping meat rose from beyond the palisade.