The Siege of Eluriand

[Deus di Eclave]

Here we go:
Closed to Homunculus.
Continued from The Tagalong General.
Drizaghar can be bunnied at will.
Have a good day.

Standing atop a hill near the raging battle for the city of Eluriand, Drizaghar Maena’triel reflected on his life since his banishment from the Underdark. Traipsing through Raiaera and slowly expanding his necromancy powers had been a tedious task, but time and patience had reward the dark elf. Just before he had been exiled for practicing the dark magic, Drizaghar had merely been able to draw on another’s life force. The past weeks had seen that power grow immensely and new abilities emerge as well. One of the greatest discoveries had been an underground library secreted away beneath the Red Forest. There the drow had found a tome detailing the skills needed to manipulate a person’s very soul. Once he finished with Xem'zûnd’s war here in the elven capital, Drizaghar planned on practicing these new skills.

With the knowledge he possessed, the dark elf necromancer felt confident that he would be able to effect great change in the region. The Forgotten One’s movements fell perfectly in sync with his own; therefore his allegiance to Xem'zûnd was merely out of convenience rather than loyalty.

As Patrol Torris thundered down the hillside, eager to join the battle, Drizaghar closed his eyes and extended his mind into his ranks. He and his pseudo-ally had infiltrated the ranks of a patrol in the tunnels beneath the Red Forest. The berserk creature he had begun to rely on had somehow killed their leader and taken on the man’s image as his own. Drizaghar still wasn’t sure just how his maniacal companion had done it, but it had been a great help in their overall plan to get closer to Xem'zûnd. Now the dark elf commanded some of the undead of that very patrol in a battle to destroy the elves’ capital city.

How far he had come.

As tendrils of power slid into the fragile minds of the zombie warriors, Drizaghar began to let his necromancy take control. Acting out of instinct, he lashed out vicariously any time one of his undead beings got close to an elven defender. The living defenders were tiring quickly and even the sluggish zombies could hold their own. Remaining behind his patrol, the dark elf glanced across the field of battle to find his bestial ally. The man had a necromancer’s body, could he use the former leader’s powers as well?

[Abomination]

Homun stayed behind with Drizaghar, still mimicking the appearance of the General Shin'dril. It was a fragile figure, whose power rested entirely on his skill of necromancy. Other Lieutenants could hold their own in battle, but Shin'dril seemed like a one-trick pony. Although, he was able to control far greater swaths of undead than some of his comrades. It was obvious to Homun how he could be subdued so easily, and he had to fear that tactic in case it was used on him. All they had to do was separate his bodyguards from him and he was dead. Still, to be able to control many zombies was no easy feat. Homun was unsure whether he could mimic such an amazing ability; he could barely control the zombies he had now.

The ones out fighting where Legion Gelucious; the zombie horde, Legion Clades; The wolf men, and Legion Celes; the over-sized muscle-bound human troop. Some of the last remained in order to act as personal bodyguards to Homun. The first thing Homun did was immediately looked around for Xem'zûnd, who appeared to be nowhere in sight.

"You," he said, pointing at one of his bodyguards. "I want you to find a Lieutenant and find out what our status is, and The Dark Lord's position. Now."

The grotesque creature ran off, running a lot faster than he looked for his massive size. Homun briefly considered omitting the portion about The Dark Lord as it wasn't in Shin'dril's character, but he figured there would be no harm in it. He could easily play it off as a concerned subordinate. His zombies clashed with the elven defenders far from the city walls, allowing the tide to be turned in Xem'zûnd's favor. Weapons clashed, bodies fell, and ultimately things seemed to be going well. Although, Homun had yet to prove his worth in this battle. He felt like something was... expected of him.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and quickly turned around, seeing a familiar face. It was a young-looking woman with a purple-ponytail, several weapons on her sheath, and fully armored. She smiled while Homun nearly had a heart attack.

She was jovial in her words, "You finally came, I see! And here I was worried you finally died of old age."

"I can't die yet," Homun replied. "Not when I'm so close to immortality."

She rolled her eyes, "You're always serious business."

Legion Celes almost attempted to kill her, but they were on the ground before they even knew what was happening to them. As they got up, Shin'dril motion for them to stand their ground. This was no ordinary female; she was another Lieutenant and a fierce fighter at that. Many questioned whether she was better at necromancy or combat.

"And here I thought you'd loosen up a bit after Carnelost."

Homun retorted, "Did you come here just to spout your nonsense?"

While appearing cool on the outside, Homun scrutinized his next words with great detail on the inside. It felt... natural to speak the way he did, and that's what he went with. It seemed like that was the correct choice, at least.

"Fine, fine. Here's what's going on: After we took the bridge, we assault their ground forces outside city. They outnumbered us greatly, and even The Dark Lord got a scratch on him! You guys got here in the nick of time, as well as all the other Patrols. We've lost several of the other Lieutenants as well, so we've been a little short-handed."

"Thank you," said Homun. "That's why I brought this guy." He pointed to Drizaghar.

She took one look, squinted her eyes as if it was hard to see him, and then turned back to Homun. "Thinking ahead, eh? You were always good at these sort of things."

Her name was Elmirah, and that name struck fear into elven hearts after Carnelost. Through that battle, she became great friends with Shin'dril. Homun was uneasy however, because he nearly predicted the next words out of her mouth.

"I'm tapped out," she said. "So, how about that old Shin'dril magic? Let's really make them pay now!"

She wanted Homun to use his ability. He hesitated for a moment, but then turned to the battleground and took a few steps forward. He didn't have a choice in the matter, he had to succeed. Before him were countless bodies strewn across the grassy fields before the city, on the many dirt roads that lead to the city, on the farmlands and at the edge of the river. Homun raised his hands and began conjuring in a forgotten tongue. He didn't know what he was saying, as it was entirely beyond his understanding even as Shin'dril, but he did it anyway.

Suddenly, the bodies- elven and zombie alike- began stirring. They raised their bodies, grabbed their weapons and shields off the ground, and began marching into the battlefield. Homun was amazed with himself. This was the true nature of the reinforcements. All of the war-hardened Generals and the extra Lieutenants were there to bring the fallen elven warriors back to life and pit them against their former brethren. Each new elf that falls essentially joined Xem'zûnd's army. It was an unstoppable plan.

Elmirah flicked the bangs out of her eyes and said, "There you go! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be heading back to my unit."

With that, she speedily ran off, almost pulling the wind with her as she ran. She looked back for a moment, wondering why Shin'dril was acting so strange, but shrugged and continued on her way. Homun dropped his arms, his mind in pain from controlling so many undead.

"Damn it, Drizaghar!" he yelled, still facing the battlefield and not the drow. "Take some of them off me!"

[Deus di Eclave]

As the Shin’dril imposter drug the fallen elven defenders to their feet once again, he called out to his lieutenant. Drizaghar heard his command and acted as swiftly as he could. His necromancy was still growing, but so long as the zombies were under another’s control, the dark elf would have no problem taking over. Slipping thin probes into the undead elves’ minds, the drow removed his ally’s control over them, leaving him energy for more important matters.

The tide of the battle began to shift in the favor of the dark forces and the dark elf couldn’t help but feel as if he had been a crucial part of it. However, he knew that was foolish for it was simply the nature of their army that turned things to their favor. For every fallen elf, Xem'zûnd gained a soldier. And it required nearly twice as much effort for the Raiaerans to dismember a zombie enough to render it useless. The drow grinned wickedly, marching down the hill to remain in contact with his soldiers.

Fighting with undead forces required very little actual concentration after he had touched them with his power and so the dark elf took time to scan the battlefield and take stock of the situation. Most of the attackers left standing were the zombies; many of the humans had fallen earlier when the elves had pushed back against the incoming wave of evil. A few lycanthopes from Legion Clades were attacking a small contingent of elves, but Drizaghar was sure they would break their defense soon. For the most part, it seemed as though the Dark Lord’s army had won the day!

A lycanthrope came sprinting back from the direction of the city, ready to report what it had found. Shin’dril had apparently followed not too far behind the drow, for the lycanthrope stopped and began his account, “Dark Lord say we start siege. No can get in wall. Reinforcements surround city. Wait for instruction.” The rows of dangerously sharp teeth garbled the thing's words something awful, but Drizaghar understood the basic idea. His spirit lifted at the thought that they had the elves running to hide inside their pretty little Eluriand. A laugh almost escaped his thin lips, but he held himself in check.

Turning about to address his leader, the necromancer wondered, “How long does he expect this siege to last?”

[Abomination]

"Sir!" yelled the elven scout, running up to the group of men huddled around in a circle. "Our fallen have risen up and are attacking their former allies! Our warriors can't tell friend from foe! All our units are being flanked and the escape routes are being blocked! We've completely lost the western front!"

"I know, damn it!" said the elven commander as he turned around.. "Wait a moment." He turned back to the other battle commanders. "Where is General Fingolfin?"

One of the others replied, "I don't know. He, along with several others, simply vanished. We'll be cut off from the city if we stay any longer, so we must decide here and now."

Weapons clashed against weapons in the battlefield ahead. Elven bodies fell by the hundreds, their corpses reanimating mere moments later to attack their fellow brethren. Morale was dropping dangerously low, any longer and the battle lines would start to cascade into disarray.

One of the more reserved commanders spoke up, "We're going back."

The other leaders glared at him, none of them dared speaking up.

He continued, "We must regroup our forces. If there's one thing that General Fingolfin taught us, it's that their real power lies in their Lieutenants. A prolonged siege will give us ample time to formulate plans to eliminate them. At this rate, they'll just push on through into the city as we all die."

"Understood," said the original commander, turning back to the scout. "Pass the word along. Start from the top. Tell everyone to fall back to the gates."

"Yes, sir!" saluted the scout, running back to where he came from.

"The High Bard Council is not going to be pleased with us..."

Elsewhere, Homun advanced his forces and flanked several groups of elves, felling them easily. Being the invisible hand in the back didn't seem so bad. At least, it gave him some perspective as to the usefulness of others. However, he couldn't full concentrate due to the issue of The Dark Lord. The bodyguard he sent away to retrieve information returned, telling him that Xem'zûnd had left the battle up to the current forces and left. Homun almost dropped all his mind links when he heard this.

"What?! Why?!"

The bodyguard replied, "Uh, um, somethin' about the battle being over and him having more important things to do."

"Grr..." Homun grumbled, shooing the bodyguard back into a position to defend him.

It seems that his search was far from over. However, he couldn't reveal himself. The Legion Celes would simply tear him apart right then and there. He decided to stick to his original plan of having Drizaghar introduce him after taking over.

At about this time, the lycanthrope reported to him and the drow, who asked an impatient question. How long would it last? Homun was sure that even Xem'zûnd didn't know that.

He interpreted the wolf-man's orders in his own words, "So, they want us to cut off their escape. And here I expected them to fight to the last pointy-eared elf!" He chuckled, moving his hands to indicate a massive shift in where his forces were going.

Looking at Drizaghar out of the corner of his eyes, he said, "We'll probably be here a while. Eluriand is more of a fortress than a city."

The wolf-man went on his way back to his unit, and Homun looked at the sky. The dark clouds had blocked the moon entirely, leaving the city as the only illuminating beacon of light among its surrounding bloody fields and farmlands. Even Homun could feel the power emanating from the city. If he wasn't so fixed on Xem'zûnd, he would've realized the kinds of opportunities that were in there.

[Deus di Eclave]

It seemed as though the very hillside lurched forward as the undead forces slowly gave chase to the living defenders. Drizaghar was beginning to tire, the additional forces he had taken control of we taxing the limits of his abilities. The news about a siege had been welcome; he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up appearances. I’m no match for these Lieutenants, he thought bitterly. His arrogance and fierce desire to exact his revenge on the city of Eluriand had drawn him hastily into a battle where he did not belong.

The thrill of seeing the Dark Lord’s forces sending the pompous elves scurrying back to their city sent a chill of delight down the dark elf’s spine. He reveled in his power; forcing the zombies under his control to move faster to trap the elves’ escape. If they could convert even more of their forces…

A sharp pain shot through his head, making him gasp in shock. Looking across the battlefield, he saw that bards protected the retreating elven army with their trademark song magic. Whatever spell they wove rent the tendrils of power Drizaghar used to control the undead and sent their power hurtling back on him. His dropped to his knees and clutched his head in agony. What was happening?

It ended as soon as it had begun and he inhaled as deeply as he dared. Feeling tentatively into the zombie forces, he reestablished mental connection and assessed the damages. Every undead warrior seemed fine; they marched on as though nothing had happened. What had happened?

He still didn’t know very much about the art of necromancy; he used his power out of instinct rather than learning. It had served him well up until now, but he was finding that his lacking knowledge led to brutal consequences.

Regardless, the gates were closed and Eluriand sealed shut as tightly as a barrel. “What’s the plan now?” he wondered. How do we execute a successful siege on a fortress? He looked to Shin’dril for advice.

[Abomination]

"And on we'll see, and on we'll see, and on we'll see..." chanted the elven warrior Tatharin, holding the line so that his comrades could escape. "To the foregone tree, our destinies intertwine with her branches..."

He cut through swaths of zombies, dismembering them with a single stroke each. Then, he saw a familiar face.

"Amras..." he said, his lip quivering and his hands steady on his two longswords.

Amras, the undead elven warrior that had been alive just minutes ago, held his weapons up and had an empty look in his eyes. The elven warrior knew, just from looking into those eyes, that there was nothing behind them. There was nothing within him. Just darkness and evil.

"Goodbye, Amras."

They crossed blades, but the elven warrior proved superior to his fallen brother. As Amras fell to the ground, the elven warrior found he was surrounded by the rest of his fallen brethren.

"Go ahead," he taunted. "Do your worst."

Elsewhere, the elven forces had assembled at the mighty gates of Eluriand. Bards and other spell-casters atop the walls concentrated their magics onto the enemy necromancers, trying to break their grasp to buy time. There were more aggressive casters there as well with devastating abilities, but they were waiting. This whole time they couldn't do anything due to the friendly forces they would invariably hit, but soon they would be able to unleash their fury. That moment was coming soon.

"It's all ready," said one of the commanders in charge of defending the walls. "Wizards, let loose your bolts of white fire. Engineers, open up the walls. Get our brethren inside."

As the gates of Eluriand opened on the three sides where the remainder of the elven forces had gathered, a great roar rang throughout the zombie horde. It was a signal for the greater invasion, a premonition of the rampage that would ensue. All of Xem'zûnd's forces advanced, pushing through the elven forces that couldn't make it to the gates. A rain of fire fell to the ground between the elves and the zombies, igniting the hordes and some of the elves as well. The wizards were pained with the task as they knew some of the warriors had not made it out in time, but nonetheless they had to save the majority. They poured everything they had into preventing the zombies from entering. The earth split open, great waves erupted out of the ground and washed the enemies away, and quagmires of fog and poison covered the field. Tatharin, surrounded by enemies, looked up at the sky and dropped his weapons. He raised his hands up to meet his fate, to thank the gods for sparing him having to fight his former brethren.

"Damn it..." Homun muttered, feeling the mental strings of his zombies snap by the hundreds.

He had no choice. He pulled the remaining zombies back. The elven remnants made it inside the city and the gates closed, locking the city away from the rest of the world. Dropping his arms, the Homunculus relaxed a little bit, since the number of zombies reduced dramatically it was not as tasking on his mind.

He walked over to Drizaghar and said, "Looks like we're gonna be here a while."

For some reason, Homun found himself almost... bound... to Xem'zûnd. As long as he was Shin'dril, he felt almost dominated by the fierce loyalty the man had for his master. Maybe it was that loyalty that kept his assimilation lasting so long? That infinite determination that brought back the general's spirit from beyond the grave and onto this battlefield. He looked behind him to where all the supplies and tents were left behind in the heat of battle.

"Alright Legion Celes, set up some accommodations."

Homun was worried. Since this was going to be a prolonged siege, that meant he had to meet with several other Lieutenants. It would take just one of them to see through his ruse for him to be dead. However...

"Drizaghar, go to the other Lieutenants. You saw where our scouts kept running to, so get to it. You already know what one of them looks like, so that's enough. Tell them I'm too busy to come. Find out our plan of action and if you find any opportunity... where The Dark Lord has gone."

[Deus di Eclave]

The Lieutenants of the undead army currently surrounding the elven city of Eluriand were an interesting bunch. Each had at least basic skill in necromancy, but many were masters in that field. However, and much to Drizaghar’s surprise, some were far more skilled in other arts. He walked to the command tent which had been pitched just over the hill from where the siege was taking place. It had to be out of range of both archers and songmages who might get it into their minds to attack from the city. Xem'zûnd had taken every precaution.

The dark elf slipped into the tent after a brief look-over by the guards and took his place between Elmirah and a large barbarian with runes tattooed all across his flesh. His eyes darted around the circle, taking stock of all in attendance. Several minutes passed before a human male strode into the tent and stood at the center of the circle.

His guttural voice rasped over the din outside the command tent and Drizaghar strained to extract the words from the man’s thick accent. “Our Lord is attending to matters elsewhere,” he offered as a meager explanation before giving orders, “Thendor and Lomix, your forces will be the frontlines of our next assault. We push once more against the walls of Eluriand until the elves fall beneath our might.” He clenched a gauntleted fist in anger and beat it against his dark prevalida armor. The tattooed barbarian grinned wickedly at the mention of tumbling walls and Drizaghar could only assume he was one of the lieutenants ‘lucky’ enough to lead the assault.

A half-demon across the circle licked his lips, the same gleam apparent in his eyes. So those two are Thendor and Lomix, the drow noted. The acting general continued, addressing the two other dark elves in attendance, “Finwë and Alassë, you will search the defenses for even the smallest weakness. Find it, expand it, and notify Lomixsazon.” Here he indicated the half-demon, “When you have a point of entry, his forces will enter the city.” Drizaghar was beginning to see the plan forming in the cold, calculating mind of their temporary leader. Xem'zûnd had recruited some brilliant military strategists. But he wondered what their reason for loyalty was…

The armored brute consulted a scrap of parchment before finishing his orders, “Drizaghar, Elmirah, and Haraldur, bulk up the forces and reinforce the line wherever needed.” After brief deliberation, most of the lieutenants returned to their patrols, but the two drow remained behind. Drizaghar eyes them warily, unsure of their intentions.

“Standing in for Shin’dril?” the female called Alassë asked him. He merely nodded and the male called Finwë sneered derisively.

“That incompetent fool commands a drow?” Drizaghar felt the hair on the back of his neck rise in anger, but he held his tongue. No use matching wits with those who actually belonged in this tent. “Obviously his small skill is greater than your own.” The two dark elves laughed and turned to leave.

“We’ll see whose patrols prove their worth,” Drizaghar snapped at their backs. Finwë made no motion that he had heard, but Alassë turned her head. Her grin told the necromancer all he needed to know about her feelings on the matter. Drizaghar whirled about and marched straight back to where Shin’dril waited. Matched against such skilled mages, the dark elf found himself wanting to prove them wrong.

He finally had some motivation.

[Abomination]

Homun relinquished control of most of his forces. He was beginning to feel like the assimilation wouldn't last much longer. The fact he even lasting this long was amazing, since he exerted so much of his energy in this form. As he looked at the city from afar, he started contemplating how he could make his graceful exit from this position and back to normal. When he saw Drizaghar coming back to him, he still hadn't thought of what to do.

The drow told him of what happened and Homun looked at the city once more, saying, "Thendor Wolfsbane and Lomixsazon... they're essentially guinea pigs. Send the muscle at the wall, and see what happens."

Homun wondered if General Dhenu Saba's plans were the reason why so many Lieutenants died in the field fight. The general was an accomplice of Shin'dril's at Carnelost, a human male who earned The Dark Lord's trust with his brilliant tactics. However, this was an arena for strategy, not tactics. Using Shin'dril's intellect, Homun did not predict good outcomes for the two sent at the walls. That's when he thought of it. The plan! Homun looked around, making sure his bodyguards were out of sight. This far away from the battle he did not need them.

"Listen to me, Drizaghar," he instructed. "We are the real strike force. As Lomix and Thendor distract the elven forces with pure might, those two conniving drow will determine the real way to bring down the walls. That is where we come in. Essentially, what I want to happen is for me to 'die'."

Drizaghar blinked at this notion.

Homun continued, "What I mean is... I think I'm at the point where any sort of extreme damage will revert me back to what I was. If I get severely injured, you will order the minions to carry me into a nearby tent, where I will 'die'. You will then assume command, I will sneak out of the tent, and you'll introduce me as Sergeant Homun when I find you."

Homun had nothing to say after that. He wasn't sure what he would do exactly after he's back to his original form, but it was likely that he would have to finish the siege before he could go on his own business. Various flying objects were hurled into the sky far from the battlefield, careening on a crash course towards the city. The problem was the strong magic users that were in the city, as they redirected everything flown at them back towards the outside. The various catapults and other makeshift siege devices were thus put to rest, and the assault of the barbarian and the haidian began. Giant, grotesque creatures ran through the fields, shielding by the zombies at their sides, carrying large logs and slamming them against the wall. From above, devastating spells were cast upon them and stunting most of the progress. Archers and other projectile-flingers tried to distract the wizards and engineers atop the wall, but everything they sent was redirected and used as a weapon.

The barbarian Thendor oversaw the battle, sending in waves and waves of units at the wall. Even if hundreds of warriors fell, a tiny crack in the wall was progress to him. Lomix was nearby, his own strategy bearing a similar sort of sacrifice endorsement. He had Haidian spellcasters create a thick fog in the air, shielding Thendor's troops from harmful wizardry. Although, this progress was greatly stifled by the bards, who infiltrated the spellcasters' minds and dissolved the fog repeatedly. Boiling oil was poured upon the attackers from above, elven archers aimed high-altitude arrows that rained upon the zombie hordes.

Homun watched from afar, trying to discern the situation. It seems as though the elves wanted to stay inside, but if anything they couldn't stop came at the wall, they would have to deploy some sort of specialized unit to stop it.

"The Bladesingers," he mumbled to himself.

Finwë and Alassë were nowhere in sight. Their mission, to find a weakness in the wall, seemed like a much harder task than the assault itself.

"Drizaghar," he turned to his dark elven subordinate. "I want you to try to keep an eye on those two drow. They'll provide the means for us to enact our plan. I'll reorganize our portion of the army, you keep track of the battle."

Elmirah, Haraldur, and Homun were the actual attack force. At the rate Lomix and Thendor mounted casualties, their forces would be out of the picture soon. Elmirah aside, Haraldur was another brilliant tactician. Homun expected nothing less than genius on the battlefield from that Salvaran male. As for the weakness of the wall, Homun considered how efficient it would be to concentrate entirely on scaling it rather than knocking it down. The elven forces could only cluster so many warriors on the top of the wall itself, and they also had to share space with ranged units like the archers, bards, engineers and wizards. However, the means to scale the wall eluded him. Maybe that is what the two spy drow would determine? That, or an alternative way to breech the infrastructure between him and the elven city. Underground wouldn't work, as the wall descends nearly a hundred feet below.

As Drizaghar left to investigate, the Homunculus felt strange. It wasn't a problem with the assimilation or anything, but it seemed like there was something disturbing his mind.

Soon... very soon...

Startled, he looked around. Did he just hear a voice in his head? Impossible! The bards were out of range! He shook his head and ignored it for now. He had to reassemble his forces, lest the other two lieutenants he was meeting up with have reason to suspect him.

[Deus di Eclave]

“Gladly,” the dark elf muttered under his breath as Shin’dril issued orders. He was to find the two drow lieutenants and keep an eye on them, and although the necromancer wasn’t sure why, he knew that his companion had a larger plan in mind. And so he would shadow Finwë and Alassë as commanded.

As Drizaghar strode across the hillside in the direction he had last seen the pair leave, he reflected on the events of the past few days. From being a lonely wanderer in an unknown region to commanding forces for one of the Forgotten Ones; it had been quite the journey since he had been exiled from the Underdark.

Though the drow knew little about his traveling companion, he had come to trust the creature since they had fought in the subterranean tunnels not too long ago. Opportunity had brought them together, unlikely allies, and now the dark elf had come to rely upon the knowledge of the other. I only hope I can return the favor, he thought. Being indebted to anyone was not something he was interested in.

The necromancer continued walking, refocusing himself on the task at hand. He was to find Finwë and Alassë and determine what their plan was. Then, he would tell Shin’dril who would use the knowledge to aid in his own death. It was an odd strategy, to be sure, but following his orders had worked so far. As long as things continued to go smoothly, Drizaghar likely wouldn’t question his companion.

Besides, soon he would have control over the undead forces. Then the wretched Raiaeran elves would feel the scourge of his wrath. How their pretty faces would twist in pain as their beloved city fell! With chills running down his back, the drow realized that voices sounded up ahead and he slowed his pace.

“L’Obok Linthar Blada uriu yllui'th,” the female voice stated. The High Bard Council has agreed.

“Sweer, vel'bol nin?” the male voice asked. Excellent, what now? Drizaghar smiled as they spoke; the pair just over the hill were obviously the two he was looking for. But what exactly was their plan?

“L’Obok Linthar Blada orn quarth nind kyorle ulu sevir l'werneth reibe,” Alassë Sîrfalas explained to her fellow necromancer. The High Bard Council will order their guards to leave the southern wall. “Then we will attack.” Drizaghar furrowed his brow in confusion, why was the High Bard Council cooperating with the Dark Lord’s forces?

Finwë Telperiën laughed malevolently, “Eluriand will be taken by surprise when our forces practically march through the front gate!” The female drow joined his laughter, the pair obviously reveled in serving the elven capital to their lord on a silver platter. Even Drizaghar had to admit, their plan was cunning.

Shin’dril had likely expected a magical attack of some kind to breach the wall, not simply subterfuge from within. Regardless, the dark elf had the information he needed and so he cautiously backed away from the crest of the hill. The two lieutenants would never know that their plans had been overheard; giving Drizaghar an edge over them.

The necromancers might all be on the same side in this battle, but who knew how long that would last. Evil sorcerers had a difficult time operating together; sooner or later the status quo would break. And when it did, Drizaghar planned on showing the two dark elf lieutenants just what he was capable of.

But our victory will be delivered by the very elves we are fighting, the drow necromancer realized. Troubled by the thought, Drizaghar made his way back toward the place where Shin’dril waited.

[Abomination]

Fleet of foot, the Bladesingers were dispatched faster than the eye could see. Leaping over the walls adjacent to the north-western fortress (somewhat north of the wall that was being assaulted), they didn't even leave marks in the grass as they swiftly and near-invisibly made their way toward the two commanders of the attack: Lomix and Thendor.

Elsewhere, Drizaghar had made it back to Homun and explained what he heard.

Homun tried to make sense of what he'd heard as he said, "The southern wall, eh? It is the most protected part of the wall, so it would be quite unexpected if it were to fall, not to mention demoralizing. I never imagined the High Bard Council to be so scheming, though. Like all the worthless leaders short of The Dark Lord, they only think of themselves in the end." Looking at Drizaghar, Homun saw his opportunity. "That's it! We'll spearhead the attack on the southern wall! Elmirah and Haraldur will end up trailing behind me, leaving plenty of time for me to..." He noticed that he was not speaking in total confidence, and after glancing around he said, "To have some fun."

Turning to one of his bodyguards, Homun issued the order: "Tell Elmirah to have her spellcasters create a fog, and that it's extremely important to do it immediately." Homun was going to move his forces through the fog toward the staging point below the southern wall. It wouldn't take long for her to figure out that Homun was on the move afterwards, but it would be enough time to launch an attack. As the bodyguard was dispatched, Homun looked over to to the raging battle far away. Little did he know, something terrible was about to happen.

"Push through the wall!" yelled Thendor, slamming his foot down onto the grass and creating a small crater from the impact. "Knock it down! Faster! What is wrong with you weaklings?!"

Naturally, he was not found of losing. Formerly a proud barbarian, Thendor wanted nothing less than total victory. There were several tents erected in his vicinity, with various sub-commanders debating which units to pull out and which to send in next. They looked frantic as they knew that the army was starting to run thin. The most numerous unit of reanimated elven soldiers and older corpses was useless against the wall, whereas the heavy hitting units and siege weapons were irreplaceable. Once they ran out of these special units, it would just be like throwing meat into a grinder.

It was Lomix who first noticed something wrong. Sitting on a tree stump, balancing the tip of a dagger on his finger, he had a premonition. He was the only Haidian commander The Dark Lord's forces, and that was mainly due to his insight and tactical prowess. He could feel the way the battle was flowing, and do what was necessary to keep the tide going in his favor. With short hair and a small rat-tail, sharp eyes and sharper eyebrows, his snake-like glance was turned toward the north. His unit was slightly south of Thendor's, but what he felt didn't match what he had been feeling this entire battle.

"Ward, I want to ask you something," he said, his decisive stare weighing down upon his human ward's soul.

"Y-Yes, Master?" the ward stumbled out a reply.

"Why would we be sent out here first? Surely, my forces are not the strongest in the army. If we really wanted to forcibly knock down the walls, we would've sent in Haraldur's Ogres, or Elmirah's Deathcasters. The only thing my company is good for, in this situation, is buying time."

"But master!" the ward interjected. "Don't you believe in The Dark Lord's appointment of the General?"

"It's not that..." Lomixsazon's gaze fell to the ground. "I just feel like something's off. Tighten up our defenses, report anything unusual to me. Any little thing."

"Yes, sir!" saluted the ward, running off immediately afterwards.

While Lomix had some preparation, Thendor was caught completely off guard. Suddenly, the outskirts of his camp had reported missing guards. Before he could issue any substantial orders, his own central camp was attacked.

Thendor roared, "Come out, elven scum! I know you're there! Running around like mice!"

Before he knew it, he was surrounded by six Bladesingers. Cloaked from head to foot in tight-fitting ninja garb, the only thing visible were their piercing yellow gaze. Their weapons of choice were long, double-ended warglaives. They were only half of the Bladesinger contingent, the other half already en-route to Lomix. Thendor's bodyguards and other units were in disarray, most of them already vanquished by the new elven assassins.

Thendor laughed heartily, "Only six? You elves amuse me! I'll make you regret underestimating ME!"

The runes all over Thendor's body glowed, giving him absurd amounts of strength. From his right hand he launched a pillar of fire, which was dodged deftly by the two Bladesingers in that direction.

Over in Lomix's camp, he had already received the report that Thendor was under attack.

"Damnable elves!" he slammed his fist into his palm. "Don't let the forces in the front line be deterred by this! This is a common tactic of theirs; to pick off lieutenants!"

Lomixsazon prepared various traps along the ground as quick as he could and backed up. Right after he finished, he noticed something above him and looked up. The sharp end of a warglaive was crashing down above him, and he dodged just in time. The Bladesinger landed and then disappeared immediately. Their speed was unreal. He would've been impaled in the direction he dodged into by another Bladesinger, but one of his traps went off and froze the Bladesinger into a solid cube of ice. Lomix was far craftier than Thendor, and when he realized what Thendor would probably do in response to these assassins, he started worrying deeply, or at least he would if he wasn't too busy fighting for his own life.