Dreadlords The Siege of Wissburg

[Edric]

Wissburg
​

Edric wasn't entirely sure what he had been expecting out of a Siege, but it was most certainly not this.

Over twenty thousand people. Fifteen thousand Guardsmen, seven hundred Anirian Templar, four hundred Medics and doctors from various Orders, fifty Dreadlords, and of course an amount of camp followers that frankly seemed obscene to Edric. It was an amount of people that brought a certain discomfort to some, a pressing crush of humanity that would drive more than a few utterly mad.

What were they all doing?

They were sitting around the city of Wissburg, part of one of a siege that had now tarried on for just over a month.

Intended to be a relatively short campaign, the siege of the once Anirian City had now extended far beyond it's original scope. Much to the chagrin of the Anirian Army and the General at it's head, the defenses of Wissburg had been strengthened far beyond what they had once been. It's walls, once ordinary stone, were now reinforced through powerful magics that seem near impossible to break. New towers have risen above the ancient buildings, their very presence enough to put a feeling of unease in most soldiers.

Dozens of men line the defenses of Wissburg. Archers, spearmen, and even those with slings. Some wear full plate of steel, while others seem dressed in little more than rags. Great flags fly from banners above the city, desecration of what had once been the holy symbol of Anirius himself. All calls for surrender have been ignored, and every attack failed.

So they waited.

Circling the city and setting into the routine of a siege. If Wissburg would not surrender, and the walls could not be breached, then those inside would be starved. It was, by Edric's estimation, a sound strategy. But when it had been told to him he hadn't anticipated the abject misery which it would cause for his side.

It had now been raining for four days straight. Trenches dug weeks ago were filled with muck and mud. Canvas tents were soaked through, and everything seemed to have taken on a quality of dampness. Just about the only dry places in the entire encampment were the General's Quarters, and of course the Field Hospital.

Depressingly, neither of which Edric was sitting in.

No, the young Initiate instead found himself planted within a small foxhole, dug deep and covered with a large piece of scavenged canvas. The ground was muck and mud, but the small stove one of the others had stolen managed to keep those within the little abode warm. At least as warm as it could be. Edric himself was perched on a bed made of pieced together crates and torn pillows. In his lap was a bowl of gruel, his face twisted in grim misery. "I think I preferred being the one under siege."

He remarked quietly to himself as he stewed in quiet misery.

 

[Tarkas Verik]

Sieges.

They were a cruel, vile, and awful way to wage a war.

But war waged was war. And war was simple- as simple as one could get, at least. War was complicated in some areas, and simple in others. Complex in logistics, simple in execution. Kill your enemy. Success was measured in blood, yours or the enemy's.

His great plate armor, blue and magnificent despite the gruesome nature of the campaign, lumbered along the friendly lines, passing by the troop positions. A task he had taken to personal enjoyment, checking on each position in a very concerned manner.

He came upon one of the younger Dreadlords they took with them on the siege, finding his position rather... underwhelming. He taught them better, or at least, he believed he did. He saw him on his routine inspection of the lines, groveling and looking rather decrepit in his fighting position, hunched just inside a makeshift tent.

"Draw some wood from the quartermaster, a few planks should do. Put them at the bottom of your hole to keep the water away. And douse that fire when it grows dark."

Yes, he was a Dreadlord. But he was also Captain Verik.

"I hear they have some pheasant roasting for tomorrow's breakfast. At least we can sleep knowing tomorrow will be better, hm? Perhaps you'd enjoy that!"

He carried his shield on his back, his right hand resting on the pommel of his sword, and the left holding a stick of some kind. It was oak, polished, varnished and had an iron knob at the end. A symbol of his command, a makeshift weapon at times, and made a fantastic fire poker. And poker of people, too!

At least he seemed genuinely trying to cheer the younger man up. Morale was important in a siege, after all!

 

[Sable Pembroke]

'Miserable' didn't even begin to cut it. Some foul instructor thought Sable too focused on defense for his own preferences, and had 'volunteered' the young titan for an offensive campaign. This was, of course, ignoring Sable's actual mission dossier, which had included several raids, ambushes, assaults, and the like. No, this was merely punishment. He knew that proctor well, somewhere, somehow. This was...a follow up.

So sick was it that Sable found himself now sharing this sopping excuse for a makeshift shelter with the initiate he considered to be a terrible rival, and a grudging comrade. Edric. Perhaps worse was that he actually found himself agreeing with him.

Sable's shield and great mace lay nearby, while he worked meager amount of oil into one of his pauldrons with a rag. Proper maintenance in this constant downpour was both intensely necessary and one of the few things Sable could do to stave off the...boredom? Not quite. It was equal parts boredom and anxiety. Sure, the forces within the walls of Wissburg seemed content to weather the storm that was Vel Anir in absolute complacency, but the threat of a counter attack was ever looming. There was always that subconscious itch that the moment Sable truly allowed himself to relax, their camp would be under attack. And so he remained at the ready. Ever vigilant. Ever draining.

Sable glanced up as the equally massive man that was his commanding officer approached and addressed the initiates that occupied the foxhole. Water pattered with an unnatural buzz off the small, magic barrier Sable maintained above his head like a visor.
"Yes sir." The giant of a young man managed.

So the hunters had managed to catch something edible, wonderful. Knowing how things had been around camp, the bird would wind up in a flavorless stew, the same as everything else. Proper cooking wasn't something that anyone really considered when supplies needed to be stretched among twenty thousand over a span of what may likely be months.

Fetching some wood might at least be a change of pace. Going out into the rain wasn't even all that dreadful of a thought anymore. They'd be wet no matter where they went, after all.

 

[Noel]

At the beginning of the siege Noel had found genuine joy. Various siegeworks that the Guard used were constructed from a mixture of wood and metals. She was being whisked from catapult to trebuchet to a variety of other strange contraceptions for repairs and upkeep as her allomancy warped the iron back into its ideal state. Then she'd repeat the same routine the following day, ensuring the weapons of war were constantly in tip-top shape.

Of course, this period of the Guard treating her like a prized possession came to an end the moment the General signaled the end of the bombardment. Now they kept Wissburg surrounded, crossbowmen trained at the gates, and waited for the inhabitants to starve.

Noel found herself sleeping the dirt, shivering on cold nights, and going hungry. A stark difference from the pampered treatment she received at the start of the siege.

Even worse than the misery they all suffered through now? The boredom.

It was the only reason she paid the Guard Captain any attention at all. "I'll help put the planks down," she opened her brown eyes and spoke up. At least it would give her something to do.

Though the captain was out of his mind if he thought she was going to allow Edric or Sable or anyone else in the foxhole to dim their heat source. She'd shivered herself to sleep one too many nights already. If the enemy wished to come towards their encampment it would only prove to end the siege swifter, so far as she was concerned.

 

[Samantha Black]

Three days ago a young Anirian Knight arrived to call Ralene away from that fox hole. She'd not returned since.

After a brief meeting in the forward command camp with the General of the Army and Anirian Knight Captain Holstag, Ralene found herself relocated to a makeshift smithing station with nearly half a dozen other smiths. She recognized two of them as her own direct contacts within Vel Anir proper. The one she often sought out for supplies, the other she'd learned under at the Academy for several months. Both looked utterly miserable in the rain. They were busy - mending armor and weapons, pieces of machinery that Noel herself wasn't able to mend on her own - setting and resetting horseshoes that were pulled in all this muck ... but she wasn't sent here for any of that.

"Black," she recalled Holstag waving her in to the General's tent from the deluge of rain outside, "tell us again about the men you and Edric dealt with in there. The Priests."

They wanted to know about the magic employed by whoever was running things inside those walls. Mind control and influence. Hive patterns. Powerful magics that she'd managed to afford Edric the ability to ward against with her own hastily fashioned amulet.

"We need you to make more of those amulets," the General commanded her.

"How many do you need, Sir?"

"As many as you can make."

So for two whole days she'd been doing just that. Only this time she was better supplied with superior tools, resources, and workspace. These amulets would be better, stronger, and hold a longer duration. She'd been studying more on warding enchantments and learned how to automate them - no more activation words necessary. And now she had a better idea of the process and the runic formulation for a protective mind ward.

On the third day Holstag arrived with further news. Scant details to get her team prepped to move out. He didn't know when, they just needed to be ready to move at a moment's notice. Not so different from most days, really, but lately there had been a lot of hurry-up-and-wait going on. Ralene packed up her finished amulets, taking only just enough for the team, and handed the rest off to her Captain before setting back out into the rain and making her way back to that wretched foxhole.

 

[Edric]

Edric stared blankly at the Captain.

It was hard to work up the motivation to do anything. It wasn't like he was depressed, nor was he starving or cold like any others. At this point it was more of a fact of frustration. He wasn't made for sitting around. They had taught him to kill, to fight, sitting and waiting wasn't exactly one of the chief preparations wrought into them by the Academy.

A year and change ago he could have just ignored the man. Dreadlords had been outside the chain of command, and the Guard had as much authority over them as the wind did over a mountain. Things were different now though. The Captain had given an order.

Slowly, almost painfully Edric pulled himself up from the small alcove with a nod. "Yes sir."

Edric answered, his voice hoarse.

"I'll go get the planks." It wasn't like they hadn't tried before. None of them were morons, but when Ralene and Edric had gone to the Quartermaster beforehand the man had simply turned them away.

The Word of a Captain would go a long way though. He marked the man's face and name in his mind, and then slowly pulled himself out from beneath the tarp and stepped into the rain. The steady drizzle soaked through the dry patches of his clothes quickly, and with slow steps he began to make his way through the muck of the camp.

Shockingly as he walked Edric heard laughter. Men and women both enjoying themselves, some telling jokes, others singing. He could even hear a lute being strummed.

Edric tried to ignore them as he made his way. As if resentful they were keeping some sort of secret.

 

[Tarkas Verik]

Tarkas was a valiant sort, as he furthered down the line. And he discovered something quite cross- the Quartermaster had not given out a single plank to the men on the line!

That, and none of them knew the quartermaster had planks to give. Tarkas made a mental note for their next great siege to have more planks available, or perhaps have the soldiers bring their own planks.

He walked with Edric, letting the rain simply hit his armor. He led the man to the Quartermaster tent, opening it for him. The quartermaster was actually a veteran himself, a Guardsmen who was not overtly fond of Dreadlords.

"Captain." He only addressed Tarkas directly, giving the younger man only a stare.

"Sergeant Varn, this young man would like some planks." The Sergeant grimaced and reached to the wagon that was covered by the tarp, and produced two planks. "He gets some." Tarkas looked over at Edric, then back to the Sergeant.

"Sergeant Varn, could I have a word-" He motioned for them to step outside the tent.

Sergeant Varn complied, a stoic expression on his face as Tarkas held open the tent flap, leaving the Dreadlord alone briefly inside.

And then, it happened.

Perhaps the loudest noise the Dreadlord could have heard come from a human being, was that of an angry Tarkas Verik, Captain of the Guardsmen of Vel Anir.

"YOU STUPID MOTHER FUCKER WHEN I GIVE-"

The rant continued on for several minutes. Tarkas ripped into the Sergeant for treating the Dreadlord differently. "I AM NOT SOME LOWLY KNIGHT OR SOLDIER, I AM A FUCKING CAPTAIN-" And so on and so forth.

Then at the end, a reminder of why Tarkas was respected, and loved. "-he is one of us now, like it or not. He doesn't get any special treatment, nor do they expect any. So I expect you, Sergeant, to treat them with respect in the same vein."

He lifted up the flap, and the two went back inside- wet from the pouring rain. Sergeant Varn went back to the cart, and produced three more planks.

"Sorry mate. But this is all I can do for a single position." He said, looking at him, then slightly down in shame. It seemed the correction and conversation (very one sided) either had him have a change of heart, or perhaps, more realistically, not wanting Tarkas to verbally (and perhaps physically) rip him apart.

"Come on then, son." Tarkas hefted the planks, laying them in Edric's arms.

"Sorry about that. Just, you know. Still new for a lot of men. A lot of them harbor ill will after the Dreadlords treatment of the Guardsmen for so many years, after all." He breathed in deeply. "Suppose that'll change."

"Now let's get your position nice and set up so you can be a bit warmer and a lot drier!"

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Edric was a strong fellow, and if ever he wasn't strong enough, Sable was well aware that Edric was willing to "borrow" more strength from anyone unfortunate enough to be near him. He needed no help, but Sable needed something to do to break this monotony. This pauldron was oiled enough, and Noel was unlikely to let Sable participate in laying the planks down.

So, into the rain it was, after Edric and the captain. He, too, heard the odd sounds of merriment coming from the camps around them as he trudged through the mud. There was something admirable, perhaps even noble about the way the guardsmen managed to keep their spirits so high. Sable couldn't help but wonder what they had that he lacked; he'd tried to keep a stiff upper lip about the situation at first, but time had taken its toll. Perhaps they'd just grown more used to it? Sable could only speculate.

It was in the rain beyond the quartermaster's tent that Sable spotted Ralene, apparently making her way back to the fox hole. The young titan waved her down as Tarkus excused himself into the tent and Sable, distracted, was utterly blindsided by the sudden outburst of his superior.

Tarkus was...intimidating, to say the least. Not just because of his penchant for blinding fury, but because the similarities between himself and the captain were not lost on Sable. It was a bit of a dark mirror, and he didn't much like it.

Thankfully, the Captain seemed to completely ignore Sable's presence as he exited the tent, the quartermaster looking pale as a ghost in the bried moment Sable managed to catch sight of him. Sable caught Edric's eyes and shrugged as the captain ushered him onwards, quietly apologetic for whatever he was about to endure.

After they both passed, Sable approached Ralene.
"Well...that was certainly, uh...eventful?" The young man muttered, still wary of being the next subject of the captain's ire. "Where have you been, anyway?"

 

[Noel]

Noel watched as Edric left with the Captain in tow. It'd just be a game of waiting until they returned now, counting the seconds until she could have something to do, and then once that was finished she'd go back to waiting around in the cold. In the mud. With a belly only half filled.

To her surprise Sable also rose to his feet, without a word, and exited their little foxhole.

For a time she just sat there waiting until the booming voice of Tarkas rang out. Her ears perked up to listen to the muffled shouts of a man who'd been stuck in this god awful siege for weeks now. Though Noel couldn't make out the exact nature of his grievance it wasn't surprising to her that the Guard would be filled with hotheads.

Less discipline than the Dreadlords, less skilled, it was no wonder the old system hadn't worked out. Dreadlords couldn't command this rabble, it had to be the rabble commanding them. Though Noel was certain that if her kind were in charge this siege would've ended in a week.

Sure, a lot more members of the Anirian Guard would've perished, but the pride of Vel Anir had always been its strength. There wasn't any way to demonstrate that strength better than by mercilessly crushing the opposition.

Finally, she thought to herself as the Captain and Edric returned. Unaware of whatever Tarkas and Edric had previously discussed or what had upset the Captain so badly that he had thrown a tantrum that half the camp could likely hear. Noel rushed to grab hold of one of the planks before going towards one of the edges of the foxhole.

"Any trouble?" The question was less an accusation than it was simply curiosity as she measured and placed the first plank, manipulating some loose platinum she kept to nail it securely into place. This task wouldn't distract her from the hell they were in for nearly long enough.

 

[Samantha Black]

With her helmet under one arm and the satchel of amulets in the other hand, the armored figure of Ralene cut through the rain and the muck and the moving bodies of the rest of the Anirian guard. Much like everyone else, she was soaked to the bone and a hundred miles away from anything remotely resembling content. But if you knew Ralene, and really only Holstag and the other Initiates did, then the look on her face was not so very unlike the look she usually conducted herself with.

Ralene Banick had a strong resting bitch face. It was what met Sable as he moved to intercept her on the way back to the foxhole.

She blinked through the rain at his remark about an event but gave no present response. Out of all of the team, Ral likely had the most experience working directly with the Guard. The yelling wasn't uncommon in large gatherings of ranks and soldiers. So long as it wasn't directed at her, she paid it little mind.

As for where she'd been?

Ral glanced to the bag in her hand and then back to Sable, "Working," she said as she fell into step beside him, armored boots squelching through the mud and rain pinging off her pauldrons, "General's orders. I need to talk to everyone - are they still in the hole?"

 

[Edric]

Edric spent the entire exchange with a blank face.

It wasn't like he didn't appreciate what the Captain was doing, but in his mind it felt mostly like an empty gesture. Dreadlords were not, and would never be well liked. For hundreds of years they had been the best, the strongest, the most powerful.

They had spent years looking down on Guardsmen, seeing them as lesser. Using them as canon-fodder. Edric didn't blame the men for hating them, didn't blame any of them for...well anything that they did. They were just men, ordinary, plain. Most of them were still more scared than anything else. He could see that in their eyes often enough.

"It's alright, sir." Edric said simply as the Captain spoke to him, his arms wrapping around the planks. "We're used to it."

After all, Edric was not a Dreadlord, not yet.

The last years of his life had been nothing but abuse. A few harsh words and ill-treatment from some Guardsmen hardly compared to the torture they'd all endured at the Academy.

With his new friendly commanding officer in tow, Edric made his way back towards the small encampment on the front lines. When he returned, he saw Sable break off from his stride and head over to what looked like Ralene. Edric instead moved back towards the foxhole, stopping in front of Noel. "No."

Edric said, still feeling the sting of raindrops and not wanting to prolong things by talking about what had happened with the sergeant. "Let's get this to use."

He said, echoing Tarkus' words.

 

[Tarkas Verik]

"Change is slow, but change is inevitable. My Guardsmen will shape up, just like the Dreadlords have."

He said have, simply because he implied that there was no other option. It wasn't exactly a secret that Tarkas- a lowly Guardsmen prior to the Civil War, held the line against the Dreadlords and traitor Guardsmen. Dreadlords fell to Tarkas' mighty hand and sword, his awful capability of violence on display to the Dreadlords that stood against the King.

In the end, the Civil War did not end in his favor- but he survived. Against Dreadlords.

"Now, if we get that fire heated up nice and hot, well. The clay just a few feet below the dirt here could be good insulation."

And for the next several minutes, Tarkas went over the intricacies of how to make the perfect home-away-from-home, an entrenched position during a siege! He detailed the importance of a drainage line, how to build a cistern for rain water, and the proper placement of the boards, what to brace the wall with, and how to lay the bedrolls out. And then he ended on a cautionary tale of morning frost and touching a sword bare-handed.

The Guardsmen who lost a good number of his fingers supposedly worked one of the bell towers. Didn't require too many fingers to pull the string.

He smiled at the Dreadlords, before standing and nodding at the younger soldiers.

"Let's pray the siege ends soon, hm? I miss my poetry nights."

He wasn't kidding, either. Tarkas was well known to host Elvish poetry reading parties.

 

[Sable Pembroke]

The others were seemingly unfazed by the captain's rage, but that was to be expected. It was an everyday occurrence by now, and it wasn't like Tarkus was the only one out here barking orders and hollering reprimands. Hell, there had been proctors in the past that behaved similarly. It might've just been the fact that this was a real commanding officer out in the real world that bothered Sable so much. He'd have to work that particular hang up through later.

For now, Sable met Ralene's cold glare with his own stern and somber gaze. Water continued to pitter and patter off the small, arcane barrier above his head even as it fell down in rivulets across Ral's face. Nothing ever seemed to bother her much. Still, a part of his brain nagged at him until he quickly worked out the somatic components of another barrier, this one orbiting over her head like a little umbrella. He trudged onwards, not expecting any kind of response to the act.

"Noel was there when I left. Edric is just ahead of us, along with Captain Tarkus." He replied plainly. There wasn't much room or time for small talk, and he'd gathered that Ral wasn't much for it anyways. Tarkus would be giving one of his lessons shortly, and it was best not to be on the receiving end of one of his rants should any of them screw up.

Sable would follow what instructions he could whilst staying out of Noel's way. Best not to get her worked up either; Tarkus would come and go, Noel he had to live with. The only thing Sable could think of that was worse than endless hours of mind numbing boredom in pouring rain, was mind numbing boredom in pouring rain while Noel simultaneously chewed his head off for placing a board down inappropriately.

The titanic initiate didn't even realize how much he'd slipped into his own thoughts until he heard the captain utter the word "poetry." That nugget of information might've been well known among the guard, but it was news to Sable. It wasn't exactly his wheelhouse of reading material, but the idea of a man as big and hardass as Tarkus enjoying a haiku or two struck some latent spark of humor somewhere deep in Sable's mind. Sable decided not to let it show, lest he was serious.

 

[Samantha Black]

Good. Everyone was still in one place.

Ralene walked along with Sable in silence, already soaked through her many layers of armor, leather, and linen, she barely noticed the lack of rainfall on her form due to the overhead barrier. As kind a gesture it was, it made little difference for her at this point. She remained silent as she trod down into the foxhole to the sound of Tarkas' little lesson on siege survival. Something all of them had learned quite early on in their education at the Academy but not something often put into practice by all of them.

Not everyone got sent on siege or battle missions, but everyone knew how to survive.

She refrained from rolling her eyes as the man treated them like children, if only for the fact that so few of the Guard really even bothered to show them any kind of decency. And why would they? Having lived under the heel of Dreadlords for centuries, Ralene wasn't expecting the attitude to change in a single year just because some pompous noble that had never seen a speck of mud or blood in their life said so.

Without having to be asked or told, she fell into the motions of assisting the others with setting up and waited until all four of them were in relatively close quarters, putting on the finishing touches before speaking up.

"We won't likely be here much longer," she said just loud enough to be heard over the rain, "I've just received word from the General and Captain Holstag we're to be ready to move out at any time. I suspect they intend for us to run a break-in because the General put in a large order for these..."

Ralene produced the small leather satchel and pulled the tie open, pouring half a dozen finished medallions on chains into the palm of her gauntlet, "Each of you take one and wear it beneath your armor. It needs to make skin contact to work. Ed-" she shifted a knowing look at him, "you take one, too. It's an upgrade from the original."

"The Priests in the city use mind control powers. These medallions should protect you from them long enough to kill them." At least, that was the theory. Edric's original medallion had been far more crude and far less effective and he'd managed to make it out of the clutches of the Priests alright.

 

[Noel]

Noel stopped working after the first plank. Initially it was because Sable re-entered the tent, this time with Ralene in tow, but then it was for another reason. The indication that they would soon be moving out and the entire purpose of laying the planks might now be moot.

Great. So instead of a warm, dry, night of sleep for once in weeks she'd be up all night bashing in skulls. At least it would solve the boredom issue.

But then her skin crawled as Ral began to pass out the tokens and her mind churned into gear to remember the initial briefing of this assignment. Mind Control. It was part of why they'd laid siege in the first place, part of why they hadn't just rushed a squad of Dreadlords in to slaughter their foes.

Their priests could burrow into ones mind. Prying in and learning secrets or simply controlling limbs.

"What sort of sick individuals would devise a magic that allowed them to control minds?" Noel hastily looped the necklace around her neck, tucking the cold metal of the medallion into her armor and allowing it to rest itself against her chest. "Definitely will want to kill any priest quickly. And without warning."

Not that she'd have had it any other way. She was efficient and didn't enjoy toying with their foes like the more sinister Dreadlords did. But there was something so off about not being control of ones own body. It was why Noel had always despised Talea back at the academy, why she'd hoped that the siegeworks would've brought a hasty surrender weeks ago.

 

[Edric]

Edric, like the others, did not point out to the Captain that each and everyone was well aware of how to build a proper defensive position. They’d all been trained, had that sort of thing drilled into them, but oddly enough he couldn’t blame the man for thinking otherwise.

All of them were still young, children in the eyes of many. The Academy had always kept it’s secrets about just how and what Dreadlords were trained it. It was a process that even high ranking Guardsmen were unaware of. Tales permeated of course, but truths rarely slipped past the grasp of the Proctors.

Why did Edric stay silent on that fact?

He couldn’t have really said. Perhaps it was because it was nice to have someone care even a little bit. Or maybe it was just because it was less effort to stay quiet.

When Ralene stepped into the small enclosure Edric’s hand froze in place on one of the boards. HIs head swiveled up to face her, features contorting in an unreadable expression as he pulled himself up to sit properly on the one slat that had been placed down. ”Thats hardly the worst thing going on in Wissburg.”

Edric said dryly, taking one of the new necklaces that Ralene had crafted.

He quickly slipped it over his head and around his neck, letting the medallion settle right besides it’s lesser twin.

”Least there’s no redheads to save this time.” Edric remarked, then wondered just how they were supposed to get over the wall. Trebuchets had been next to useless against the enchanted walls, and those Dreadlords in the Artillery regiment who were capable of massive assaults of magic had remarked much the same.

Of course, it was on the heels of that thought that Edric came to a realization. ”Fuck.”

He exclaimed, forgetting about the Guardsmen Captain sitting there. ”They’re going to make us crawl through tunnels.”

Edric moaned, already picturing the claustrophobic space they were all doomed for. He hated tunnels.

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Relief washed over Sable like a warm bath after these endless weeks of rain and mud. He gratefully took up the medallion, affixing it just as Ralene had instructed. Any thought of making some sort of progress put the young warrior's mind at ease. He wasn't built for drawn out sieges; stories of legend never depicted these grueling things, but the hard and fast all-out assaults he was accustomed to.

Sable listened to the others converse over the task at hand and drew in the information. Noel's comments about mind control seemed odd given that he was fairly certain at least one other initiate could do it, and there was a Proctor that specialized in hypnosis before the revolution. Proctor Ordo, wasn't it? He seemed to recall her getting arrested for war crimes once the dust was settled. Oh well.

The titanic fighter pursed his lips at Edric's "redhead" comment, unsure if that was a jab at Meredith or not. Given that there were a multitude of gingered initiates at the Academy, that one was also promptly let go, despite the sour look on Sable's face.

What really earned Sable's attention was Edric's final comment. Tunnels.

"No...noooo, can't we just go through the gates? Blast them to smithereens and charge through?!" He groaned. Never mind the fact that he was significantly bigger than the average person and knew that he'd likely be scraping his pauldrons against the walls the entire way. "There's no honor in sneaking in!"

 

[Samantha Black]

Metal claws closed around the remaining three amulets in the palm of her glove. Ral carefully dropped them back into the leather satchel before securing it back inside the beltcase. There were likely to be others joining them - a full Dreadlord or, more likely, several soldiers from the Guard. Holstag wouldn't be joining them, he'd be too busy leading an infiltration team from the other side.

While the others got their thoughts in, Ralene remained silent, her eyes tracking to each of their faces as they spoke and her brow furrowing with each subsequent remark. It was unlike Edric to complain ... much, but he'd seemed to grow more comfortable in speaking his mind over the last few months. Noel had never been much on holding back her own opinions and Sable? Well, his honor was going to get them killed.

Ralene reached over and grabbed the front of Sable's chestplate, pointing out in the direction of the city that fell well beyond any of their sights down here in this mudhole.

"Nothing about anything happening in that city is honorable. It's full of cultists that have warped our religion and the minds of their followers. We have reason to believe they were using children as sacrifices and have other Dreadlords under their mind control. There were seven dead Dreadlords strung up on a tree just outside the city limits two months ago, we can't afford to be honorable."

She released him and turned her hardened gaze to Edric while passing a hand over her head to push the rain-soaked hair from her face, "We all might be needing that redhead's medical skills by the time we're through here... maybe not you."

Her attention then shifted to Noel, "Most everything they armed their militia with was iron, but the Priests were in some special kind of armor. Didn't look like anything I've seen before."

 

[Noel]

Noel nodded at Ral's comments. Iron was good, she could bend weapons or maybe even crush foes if they were encased in the stuff. But whatever the priests were wearing... if it wasn't iron or platinum she'd have to resort to driving her spear through their face. Worst case it was bewitched and did Anirius-knows-what.

"You two afraid of getting muddy?" Her voice was calm but it was difficult to contain the excitement she felt in that moment. They'd been stuck in this stupid fucking foxhole for more than a week. Anything was better than just sitting around in the cold and waiting.

Even if she didn't think the idea of clawing through a tunnel sounded very appealing.

The onyx-haired initiate grabbed ahold of her pack and her armor affixed itself to her. Her spear curled into a shape around her body and her shield practically melted into the grooves of her armor."The sooner the better."

Noel wasn't sure what would be worse, going through the tunnels first or bringing up the rear. Neither sounded too pleasant but she wasn't going to join the other initiates in their whinging. "If the militia are in iron maybe it's best to let me handle them. You three can deal with the priests."

 

[Edric]

It wasn’t really the mud that bothered Edric. He didn’t mind getting dirty, that was a matter of course. It was the tight press of earth all around him. Ducking his head, pressing himself tight against the walls.

Not to mention if they got into a fight down there. The whole thing would and utter nightmare. Plus, Sable was near a head taller than him which would make the whole encounter even work. Although, that did give him a slight idea. ”Sable.”

Edric said. ”Your magic.”

It was a novel thought, given that they hadn’t even been given the mission officially, but Edric knew that he was right. Tunnels was the only thing that made sense at this point. There was no way to break through the walls, and going over wasn’t much of an option either. So down below it was.

”If you go first with one of your wards ahead of us, It’ll-“ Before he could finish the sound of a whistle echoed out. Heads immediately swiveled, and Edric recognized the tune as a call to attention. Another whistle came next, and then two quick repeating songs. It was the call specifically for Dreadlords; for them.

Edric leaned down, pushing away the wooden plank he had been putting down and snapping up his own gear.

His shoulders rolled as he stepped up and out of the foxhole. ”Guess you called that one.”

He told Ral as he began to walk towards the assembly point.

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Sable grimaced as Ralene yanked him by his armor. Ralene was rough and tumble, this one, especially compared to the other young nobles that had joined the initiates at the academy. She seemed to have a solid sense of right and wrong, but Sable could never quite pin down how much it lined up with his own. One thing he'd learned for certain: Ralene didn't mince words.

"I'm well aware of what they've done. All the more reason not to let our own principles slide when it conveniences us." Sable contended, gaze stern. Of course it wasn't feasible to go in the front gate. He knew that, deep down. If it had been so simple then the siege would not have lasted until now. That didn't stop him from hating what was coming. "I'll yield to whatever we're ordered to do. I know it's for the greater good."

That much he would concede to Ral. He just hoped that the 'greater good' wouldn't cost him his soul in the process.

"You two afraid of getting muddy?"

The imposing initiate just cocked a brow at Noel. They were literally sitting in mud as they spoke. Edric seemed to get it if the look on his face and initial reluctance were anything to go off of. Tight, subterranean corridors weren't exactly the most suitable environment for someone Sable's size.

At that, Edric seemed to have a spark of inspiration. He was admittedly curious to follow his peer's line of logic, but the call to duty cut him short.
"Don't worry. I always go first." He finished for Edric, hefting the large slab of metal that was his shield and slinging his maul over his shoulder before stepping out into the rain with the others.

 

[Samantha Black]

It wasn't convenience, Ralene knew well enough, it was necessity. The Priesthood of Wissburg had earned what was coming to them so far as she was concerned, and what was coming couldn't happen soon enough. Now was not the time for bleeding hearts and honorable men.

Ral's gaze skated to the gleam of metal as it wrapped itself around Noel like some pretty little dress. That trick never got old and it never failed to impress the rune mage when she saw it. A faint smirk mirrored Noel's thoughts on the matter, and though she would have liked to add more to the conversation the shrill whistle called for their attention and attendance.

She followed Edric out of the foxhole and back into the pelting rain.

A second whistle summons went out, leading the Initiates to a tent further down the line. Stepping between various soldiers and warriors busily moving about, Ralene glanced a group of Knights and a few Dreadlords waiting just outside the tent. The General wasn't there - the man with the whistle was one she had never met before.

He was calling names off a list as he stood beneath the overhang, a few names Ral recognized as seasoned Dreadlords: Gravitz, Heathren, and Ilverstein (did Proctor Ilverstein have a sibling?). The next group of names spoken brought forth several Anirian Knights and a woman bearing the dark armor of the Blackguard.

"Initiates Ralene, Edric, Sable, and Noel," the man bellowed and Ral pressed forward through the line of those already assembled and he assessed them silently for several moments, as for certain she felt everyone else doing.

"Everyone assembled here has been supplied a medallion on a chain, wear it securely beneath your armor and against your skin. Should you encounter a Priest, your orders are to kill on sight."

 

[Noel]

Edric and Sable had formulated a plan that Noel could live comfortably with. Having Sable go through the tunnel first was obviously preferable for her even before one considered his magic. He was large enough that even without his barriers he looked like he could shrug off a few blows.

That strategy was dampened along with every strand of her hair as the group stepped out into the rain.

It was pouring, which was obvious from the sound of droplets hitting the tarp but being in it gave one a much better perspective of just how bad it was coming down. Would make for poor footing if they encountered any foes inside the tunnels themsel-

She shot to attention as her name was called along with the others. Noel gave a curt nod as the instructions finished and she checked that her medallion was in place once more, shivering at both the cold rain and the thought of some priest crawling around inside her mind.

"Shall we?" Killing the priests on sight was of no bother to her. She was more concerned about any other strategies priests with mind-controlling powers could pull off.

As she bent into the tunnel behind the leaders of their little squadron her knees sank into the mud and, despite her earlier jest, she felt extraordinarily uncomfortable being covered up in the stuff. It was one thing to be covered in mud, trying to get yourself warm with a flickering flame, and another thing entirely to tell one's mind to simply adjust to the cold of the earth.

 

[Edric]

Edric's face remained impassive as he heard their names called, though in his mind he was playing over what he already knew of Wissburg within his head.

He tried to picture the layout of the city when Ralene had left it. Tried to remember where the buildings were, how they had been situated against the wall. For one of the first times in his life Edric tried to actually think tactically.

None of them were leading this particular mission of course, but that didn't mean they couldn't contribute.

"Our job is not to take the city."​

Dreadlord Gravitz said as the small squad threw themselves down into the muck of the tunnels. A discomforting squelch echoing out from boots as they sunk into the mud. Edric turned his head up to look at the man, his stern face half hidden by a heavy black cloak protecting him from the rain.

"We find a weak-point in the wall and break it, that's it. Nothing fancy. Understood?"​

Edric nodded his head, adding to the chorus of sound offs as he grabbed one of the bare torches and moved into the tunnel behind the others.

It was not long before the patter of rain was lost behind them, what little light the sky had provided disappearing as the darkness surrounded them. Wooden supports kept the cramp tunnel from collapsing, and all around them on the walls one could see signs of both picks and magic having done it's work.

As the group crawled forward, the quiet of the earth surrounded them. Only the sound of armor gently rustling against itself resounding out. As they continued, Edric felt an odd roll of goosebumps running over his flesh.

Lips thinned for a moment, and quietly he whispered. "We're below the wall."

The others would feel it too. A strange dulling of their magics, a sense of oppression. As if the weight of the world above them had somehow grown heavier.

 

[Sable Pembroke]

Medallion affixed, Sable took point as the group trudged their way into the tunnel. It didn't seem like it was all that long ago he had been stuck in that swamp alongside Trix and Kalix doing something remarkably similar to this. Yet that all seemed markedly more enjoyable than the venture his current group was embarking on. The stakes were much lower back then.

Only up to his shins in the tunnel's muck, a privilege afforded to him by his height, Sable cast an array of barriers to his front and sides. The dim light that radiated off them shone their amber rays upon the undeveloped walls and ceiling.

So much of this assignment felt so odd. Why send initiates beneath the wall if all they were doing were picking out a weak point to make a breach? Why not send sappers? Why weren't the denizens of Wissburg aware of the tunnels and trying to collapse them? Questions upon questions all drowned out by simple orders, yet that nagging sense that things were about to go from bad to worse only increased with each step forward.

The flickering of Sable's wards and the sensation of being suppressed as the group passed under the wall only served to boost his paranoia...would the amulets even work under an effect like this?
"I've got a bad feeling about this..." He muttered as the shields of energy dimmed around him, glancing over his shoulder to check on his compatriots.