The Six Siege Catapults ((Anyone can join))

[Izvilvin]

((Slight explanation here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?p=40790#post40790). Anyone can join to help out, and I'll need a few people. Jump in wherever you like and find a way to help out. Assume that there are enemies everywhere that you can fight, or wounded you can help. If you're evil, you can also try to stop Izvilvin.))

The Icarus ring's effect ceased just as Izvilvin's feet touched the ground. Before him was the wall of the Keep, then half of the river Attireyi, and finally beyond that were six siege weapons manned by three dozen Cult soldiers. Whether he could find help or not in dealing with the powerful weapons, he didn't know, but he could not sit by as the Keep was brought down.

Above him, harpies soared into the open windows of the structure, looking to slay all who dwelled within. They didn't seem to pay any mind to him, which was a good thing considering the small amount of time he thought he'd have. A loud twang filled the air, and an arrow twice his length flew over the wall and into the Keep, cracking stone but bouncing off. It hadn't struck well enough, but it did some damage.

Izvilvin dove into a roll as the massive projectile fell, nearly crushing him. Breath heavy, eyes darting every which way, the Drow ran off toward the Keep gates, not sure what he'd see when he arrived.

[Letho]

Letho was glad that it was the Rangers and not the Corone Armed Forces regulars that accompanied him on board of the Niema’s Wind. The soldiers of the CAF weren’t necessarily a bad bunch as long as they had a wall to walk on or a building to patrol around, but when it came to something other then that – going beyond the call of duty type of something – obedience and solidity gave way to reluctance and arguments. Letho couldn’t really blame them though. Nobody really liked going to war and that dislike doubled in strength when it came to war on foreign soil. Fallien was an unknown for most Coronians, a picturesque southern resort for the rich and a vapid uninviting desert for the soldiers. They had no reason to fight for it, especially since it wasn’t another nation that attacked it, but rather an unruly army of local bird-things that decided a civil war was a better solution then the status quo. In short, it was a Fallien problem and Fallien people should be dying while dealing with it.

Of course, such an approach wasn’t terribly diplomatic. Luckily, The Assembly and the ministers of the Government of the Corone Republic had more then just vacuum between their ears. They could’ve just ignored the whole matter, yes, coming up with an excuse as to why they were unable to aid the Fallieni in their plight. It probably wouldn’t hinder the diplomatic ties with the desert land and after the storm quieted down, they would send some help. However, if they acted sooner, they would be able to strengthen the same ties with an insignificant loss to their own army. That was what politics always were; weighing and measuring the risks and potentials and making the right decision at the right time.

And the decision was to assemble and send a small brigade that would carry the Corone banner. It would mostly be a token brigade, a bunch of men-at-arms that would join the city defenses just so Corone could say that they were there when Fallien was at its knees. The Grand Marshal Aidan Johnston would have none of that folly. He said that if Corone is sending such a small number, they should send their finest, those that wouldn’t just huddle behind the wall, but rather stand on it and defend it. “What good is waving a banner if a craven waves it?” the Grand Marshal said and the rest had no choice but to agree. So they gathered the deft and the wiling, boarded them on the fastest ship in the fleet and sent them southwards. The captain of Niema’s Wind, a hardy stoic man of indeterminate age, said that the whole ordeal would be done by the time they reached Irrakam. Once they entered the delta of the Attireyi river and proceeded towards the capitol, he realized they got just in time to meet the chaos face on.

“Starboard side! More of them coming!!!” Captain Theon Onassi bawled from his spot behind the helm and about a hundred of Corone Rangers reacted instantaneously, spinning on their heels and knocking arrows into their longbows. The harpies plummeted on top of them for almost an hour now, but the closer they got to Irrakam, the more of the winged creatures came at them. Two of their sails were torn already, the captain performing a miracle as he directed the modest frigate a stone’s throw from the shoals and the river bank with just one operational sail. This time there were at least fifty of the feathery abominations and they seemed keen on tearing down the remaining main sail.

“Wait for it!” Letho shouted, keeping the bowstring of his composite bow taut, his eyes trying to pick a target in an abundance of them that was coming at them like a rain. He opted for one that didn’t zigzag too much; his prowess with a bow wasn’t worthy to be a shadow of his sword skills. Still, when the harpies were in range and he shouted “LOOSE!”, it didn’t matter. A hundred arrows took flight, decimating the oncoming winged creatures, sending them screeching and spiraling into the river. And they were safe again... for a short while at least. They maybe didn’t look like much – a bunch of vagabond look-alikes in mismatched uniforms and rugged armor of studded leather – but it was common belief in Corone that each ranger was worth at least five knights, more if riding a horse. Unfortunately, there was no room for horses onboard Niema’s Wind, but the rangers were there and they didn’t come to watch the battle from afar.

“That ought to teach them.” one of the marshals said, a lean gray man as old as an oak tree and as sinewy and tough as its root. Branden Umber was his name, and alongside Letho and stocky Geowan Arryn, he was the only marshal. Best shot in the lot as well. Letho couldn’t vouch for his arrow, but he could bet all his money on the fact that Bran’s found a target. “They can’t mess with... TAKE COVER!!!”

The old man threw himself on one of the younger rangers, pushing the youth out of the way a fraction of a second before a fifteen-foot arrow came crashing through the main deck, sending splinters around as big as a human arm. A couple of rangers got scraped by the wooden projectiles, but most came away unscathed. Which couldn’t be said for Niema’s Wind. While the first missile merely made a rather large hole in the main deck, the second one struck the frigate from the side, tearing through its hull mercilessly. It took several seconds for one of the carpenters to emerge from below, but Letho didn’t need to hear his report to know they were taking water. If the proceeded at their current course, they would list and sink before long.

“Another one of those and even I won’t be able to keep her afloat, Marshal!” Theon Onassi said in between the shouted orders to his sailors. Letho figured as much. He could see the scorpions on the far bank of the river, five of them bombarding the Keep while the sixth seemed keen on preventing them to reach ground. They were still some way from the Keep, but the Outlander’s quarter was passing by their larboard even now.

“There. Run her aground there. You’ll have to go through the Outlander’s Quarters on foot, but you should be able to reach the Keep.” Letho shouted, pointing towards the collection of more modest buildings outside the majestic wall that surrounded the very core of Irrakam; Jya’s Keep.

“What about you, lad?” Branded asked in an ancient rough voice that reminded Letho of his father.

“I’ll take care of those siege weapons.” he responded, checking all the leather straps that help his weapons tied to his body before he gave one last order to the rangers. “Give me some cover!”

When he jumped from the deck and into the river, he swam one way and the ship went in an opposite direction. The scorpion arrow whizzed above his head, striking the outer hull of the Niema’s Wind once again, but this time catching the wood at an angle and merely imbedding itself in the hull harmlessly. Several harpies saw easy prey in Letho, but none of them got a chance to come close enough to sink their talons into his flesh. By the time he reached the far shore, sopped and heaving for air, his comrades were already disembarking and making their way to the Keep. They had their job now and he had his.