The Siege of Eluriand

Out of Character:

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?

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!"

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?”

"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.

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.

"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."

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.

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.

“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.

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.

Drizaghar traveled with the bodyguard Shin’dril had sent as a messenger. When the pair reached Elmirah’s camp, the dark elf necromancer took the lead and approached the lieutenant boldly. “Ready your Deathcasters,” he told her in a commanding tone. The woman’s eyebrow arched in amusement, but she kept her cool in responding.

“And why would I want to do that?” she quipped as Drizaghar came to a halt before her. Passing a small ledger to a guard to her left, the human folded her arms and stared intently at the drow.

“Lieutenant Shin’dril asks that you create a thick fog along the south wall,” he answered without pause. The bodyguard who had accompanied him stood behind him, arms folded as he ensured his master’s wishes were carried out. “Immediately,” the brute nodded and loped back to Shin’dril’s camp, leaving Drizaghar alone in Elmirah’s headquarters.

Turning away and sauntering over to a small desk, the necromancer traced a finger across several ornaments on its surface before speaking again. “Again, why would I want to do that? You seem to be heavy on the orders and light on the reasons, drow.” Shooting him a tempting sneer she motioned for a messenger. “Nevertheless, I am intrigued.” Then to the messenger she commanded, “Bring me Master Caruda.”

Sending the rest of her entourage out of the command tent, Elmirah stalked closer to the dark elf and began pacing circles around him. One lone finger snaked across his chin, coming to rest on his lips as she leaned beside him. With her lips mere inches from his ear, she whispered, “What’s your plan?”

~~

Remar Banniarnith paced along the top of the southern wall, his pike held tightly in his white-knuckled grip. While his compatriots battled untold hordes of undead on the eastern wall, Remar waited for word of an attack on his station. However, all through the early hours of the battle, he and his fellow guardsmen heard nothing. Scouts came every half an hour or so, reporting news from the city and from the other walls. But none ever carried orders for the station to mobilize. And so Remar Banniarnith paced the top of the southern wall and waited for his moment of glory.

“Son,” an older guard called to him. “Would you quit that? You’re driving me mad.” Motioning for Remar to stop pacing anxiously, the guard mumbled to himself, “It’s bad enough without your nervous energy.”

“Sor-sorry,” the elven guardsman stuttered. Readjusting his helmet as he stood between two crenellations, Remar turned his thoughts to the grounds below. What was happening down there, he wondered.

After a few minutes, Banniarnith realized that he could no longer see the ground. A dense fog had settled in next to the wall, obscuring vision from the top. “Uh…” he glanced around anxiously, looking for a commander to tell about the recent change. Even the slightest detail like this could prove huge in repelling the invading hordes.

Just then, a trumpet call startled Remar and he whirled about to see who was coming. Instants later, a harried scout ran up the stairs and nearly collapsed amongst the guards. “Orders,” he gasped and the elven men focused their attention. Finally they had orders!

“You are all to leave your position here and assist in the defense of the eastern wall,” the man said when he had enough breath. “Immediately.” Grumbling about the relocation, but pleased to finally see some action, the guardsmen rounded up their supplies and made their way down the stairs.

“But who will guard the southern wall?” Remar asked as he passed the scout.

With a look of trepidation clouding his eyes, the man replied, “These men will take over.” Gesturing to a line of elves carrying large sacks and shields, the scout mumbled, “May the Thaynes forgive us.” And before Remar could ask more, the man slipped down past the guards already on the stairs.

“Strange,” Remar muttered to himself, but he nodded to the replacement guards and followed his kinsmen obediently.

When the last of the defenders had passed, the lead replacement dropped his sack and turned to his fellows, “We have exactly five minutes before the commanders realized that we’ve moved their troops from this wall. The explosion must go off before then or the plan fails. May the Thaynes watch over you.” And tossing his sack against the base of the southern wall, he drew his flint.

“May the Thaynes watch over us all,” he whispered.

~~

“General Saba!” Finwë Telperiën called into the command tent where the temporary leader of the dark army resided. “We have a plan!” He strode confidently up to the headquarters and pushed the flap aside, peering into the darkness inside. “General Saba?”

His eyes adjusted to the low light quickly and he saw the form of the General sitting in his large command chair. “Ah, General… a word?” He let himself in the tent, allowing the flap to fall behind him. After one step into the tent, he saw a second form just behind the first. A Bladesinger.

With blackened sword held to Dhenu Saba’s throat, the elven assassin waited until the realization struck the dark elf’s face. “No!” he called out, but in vain. With a quick slash, the ninja’s sword carved a crimson trail across the neck of the dark army’s leader. The poisonous snake rattling its tail at Eluriand had just lost its head.

Finwë lunged for the chair, trying to catch the elf in his grasp to unleash a spell, but the assassin slipped away into the darkness. Cursing the miserable Raiaerans, the drow necromancer fumbled his way out of the tent and toward the spot where his fellow lieutenant waited.

“He agreed?” Alassë Sîrfalas asked.

“He was killed,” her dark elf companion responded. “Alert the Dark Lord and send for Haraldur. He assumes command. In the meantime, we begin our plan. The charges will be set in a matter of minutes; we have little time.” Grimacing at the news, Alassë nodded and set off to find a messenger. Reeling from their loss, Finwë clenched his jaw and stared defiantly at the elven bastion before him. “You will fall regardless,” he whispered. “Saba’s death can’t stop that…”

The scorched grass covered the scene of the fallen Thendor, with four dead Bladesingers scattered mere meters from his body. Even in death, his grin was plastered on his face and his bloodshot eyes continued to thirst for blood. All over his body were cuts and holes, and his runes that glowed so brightly were now dull.

Over in the other camp, Lomixsazon struck through the Bladesinger in front of him with his spear, splattering the elven blood all over his face. The body dropped, and the remaining two Bladesingers had disappeared. They had retreated? Lomix looked around, bewildered, his muscles aching and his breath hoarse, and then noticed the dark elf running over to him.

"You're..." he said, trying to catch his breath. "One of those two. The..."

Finwë cut him off, "The General is dead. He was assassinated mere moments ago. What about Thend--"

"He's gone," Lomix interrupted. "I felt his spirit fade from this world, but I still feel like his rage is echoing across the plains..."

Due to Thendor's death, the entire push of the eastern wall had all but halted, with the remaining forces backing off. Lomix was ashamed of his failure, but more importantly he feared the retribution by the Dark Lord.

Finwë spoke up, "We still have a plan! We've dispersed messengers to our remaining three armies, and if they get there in time we can overtake the wall. We need you there as well."

"And the new general?" Lomix asked. "Haraldur, I assume?"

"Yes, now assemble your forces and go join the attack on the southern wall!"

The southern wall? Lomix was bewildered at why they were attacking the strongest wall, however he wasn't in any position to question orders. His pride was already shattered, and even then he failed to die to the assassins. The least he could do was kill as many elves as he could.

~~

2 minutes ago...

Homun's voice rang out among his forces, "Charge! Topple the wall or die trying!"

Homun's, or rather, Shin'dril's army was still the same as before; consisting of revived undead, wolf-men, and modified humans. However, new to his arsenal were various siege weaponry. The muscle-bound humans charged with Homun all the way in front, carrying an enormous steel wedge that Homun ran behind. The wolf-men tried scaling the wall, while the undead forces were banging at it with whatever weaponry they had. Charging through the fog, they were all running blind, betting it all on the promise of those dark elves.

Then, through the fog, there was a bright flash of light in one direction. From all across the fortress-city of Eluriand, the white flash was seen by all. For several hundred meters, the back of the southern wall was destroyed by explosives, causing cracks and weak spots in the front of the wall. With the defenders still distracted on the eastern wall and the paltry defenders driven away by espionage, Homun had a clear shot at the wall. He ran behind the enormous wedge, and when he saw the wall, he yelled at his bodyguards to jam the wedge in as hard as they could into the enormous new crack in the wall. As they did, Homun used one of Shin'dril's spells and pushed the wedge from behind using some sort of telekinetic force. As the tip of the wedge crashed into the wall, hundreds of cracks came from the spot being breached, creating weaknesses all along that section of the wall.

With the weakness of structure behind the wall, and this new entry point in the front, it was only a matter of time before the entire thing came down.

"Yes!" Homun yelled. "Bring it back here and let's do it again!"

Homun looked around as his bodyguards prepared another strike, trying to find Drizaghar.

"He should've been back by now..." he mumbled.

His forces continued doing damage to the wall virtually unmolested, but then the elven guardsmen returned and tried to put up a defense from atop the wall. Among them was Guardsman Remar, who had rushed back to the wall as fast as he could when he saw the light.

Clenching his fists as he stared over the wall, he lamented, "Damnable creatures! You'll get into this city over my dead body! Quick, get your spears! Stop those siege devices!"

Remar and the other returned elves started throwing spears down into the attacking forces, trying to subdue as many as they could before help came. Then, a part of the fog cleared and he saw Homun, who he immediately assumed was some sort of important man.

"Take this, fiend!" he yelled, throwing a spear down into the clearing. Several other men followed suit, all aiming at Homun.

Then, a shock coursed through his body, and he looked down to find a sword sticking out of his torso.

"Over your dead body, you say?" said the saboteur, pulling the sword out and letting Remar's body fall to the ground. He spit on the body and then noticed the fireballs piercing through the fog, flying right at him. He dodged out of the wall and disappeared.

* * *

Homun's fingers twirled with the invisible strings of his undead forces, all chopping away in unison at the weakened wall. It was like a chorus of souls to him, all dancing to his bidding. However, the clearing in the fog caught his eye and he looked up to see several spears flying his way. He could only widen his eyes as the spears skewered his body, sending him falling backwards. In his vision, he could see the top of the wall, clear as day. The telekinetic force of pushing the wedge must have cleared the fog around him. As he fell and his vision blurred into darkness, he saw the bright fireballs of Elmirah's deathcasters hitting the wall and the area atop the wall, sending chunks of rock falling down and burning alive the spear-throwing defenders. If Elmirah was here, so was Drizaghar! As Homun lost consciousness, fully putting his fate into his unlikely ally's hands, the voice in his head spoke again:

Soon our evolution will proceed to the next stage. We will both be part of something greater.

In his last moments, the voice agitated Homun, but with the loss of Shin'dril's memory, he was also losing the memory of that voice. Despite fighting hard to keep the memory of the voice in his head, he lost it as he fell unconscious.

((Can't post anymore, so I'll edit in whatever conclusion I can come up with.))

Homun's eyes opened suddenly. He raised his hands and noticed the edged fingernails. He was back in his old body, his old clothes! That had to be his longest assimilation yet. He was in some sort of tent, and he could see tall, wide shadows standing guard outside. They must've thought that Shin'dril was in here. Unfortunately, it seems that they were aware of Homun's awakening. As they strolled inside, unaware, Homun leaped up and slashed the first one's throat with a blade that came out of the palm of his hand, parallel to his outstretched fingers. As he fell backwards, Homun jumped over him and kicked down another one of those massive brutes. He felt faster, stronger, and the ogres seemed sluggish in comparison. The rest of them surrounded him, brandishing their clubs, axes, maces, and whatnot.

Homun was getting ready to take them all down when Drizaghar yelled, "Stand down! Homun is my special guest. He is to be treated with respect!"

The bodyguards, somewhat confused, put down their weapons, disregarding their fallen brethren. Soulless, heartless creatures they were, despite being formerly human.

Drizaghar continued, "Join the main plundering party, as your master has slipped away and is tending to other matters that do not require your protection."

The bodyguards obliged, and Homun looked at Drizaghar as if he was meeting him for the first time. The way they all listened to him with such loyalty was impressive. He must've truly managed to master controlling Shindril's forces in the time Homun was out. As for how long that was... it must've been at least half a day, as dawn was rising and the battles had long ceased. The Homunculus looked toward the southern wall, and found it was mostly gone. All that was left was a pile of rubble on two sides and a cleared path for the army to traipse across.

The city of Eluriand had been razed. Every building was being defiled, desecrated, and demolished. The only structure that seemed impervious to this mayhem seemed to be the middle one. Even Homun could feel the aura radiating from it, partially obscuring his vision as the air around the towering building warped and bended. It was like it was in another dimension. It didn't matter to Homun however, as he was done with this nonsense. His target, the lord of darkness or whoever, was not here, and it seems for now the undead armies were not going to attack him. Discarding Drizaghar as quickly as he had befriended him, Homun slipped off into the shadows. It was only inevitable before everyone here would be his enemy, 'special guest' or not. He needed to continue evolving, keep moving, and find his purpose in the world. Even if it is to destroy it.

((Note: I spoke to Sighter before all of this. He thinks it fits in with the canon. Plus, there was no formal timeline of events for the siege, so I created one. ))

Ladies and gentlemen, I shall be your esteemed judge of this fine thread. My notes and scores are as follows, and I hope you find them to be fair and insightful. Any questions on this judgment can be PMed to me.

Story: 19.5/30

Continuity: 6.75 /10


Deus di Enclave: Your introduction starts out at a strong pace but covers a lot of story efficiently. You often left things unsaid to pick up where Homun left off, but this somewhat lessened the continuity between your own posts. Touching on his past more helped give your character a bit more realism, and round him off as a person. There was hardly any ending at all in your last post, though, and I even expected you to post again.

Homonculus: You never really go much into your characters past, or the events which led him where he was. The fact that he is after ‘The Dark Lord’ is mentioned, but never the why of it. The short scenes portraying the other side of the battlefield helped give a deeper sense to the battle, though. The elven troops also seemed to react realistically to the situation. You tie those scenes together fairly well. The voice in your characters head after he sent his partner off to spy on the other drow was an interesting bit of foreshadowing that was never really explained.


Setting: 5.5/10


Deus di Enclave: You mention the setting mostly in passing, and more to relatively position the soldiers and other people than to give any real image of the world. In describing the tides of battle you can get fairly poetic, but there’s still very little ‘eye candy’ in your posts to give readers a clear mental image of the scene.

Homonculus: There’s very little physical description of the setting outside of the basics. You occasionally employ some good imagery in your description of the lieutenants, and other people, but still leave the setting around them almost blank, though you do acknowledge its existence.


Pacing: 7.25/10


Deus di Enclave: You pick your post up right after your partner leaves off, and this aids the pacing of the thread overall. Your posts also read relatively quickly, and though this is sometimes at the cost of some imagery or further depth of the story, you present necessary information concisely and don’t dwell on anything unimportant.

Homonculus: Your posts are generally longer than Deus’, though you do tend to give more information that helps round out the thread as a whole. Still, the pacing does slow with each of your posts. Some are more concise than others, but in most cases some different wording could’ve eliminated some of the excess.

Character: 20.75/30

Dialogue: 7.5/10


Deus di Enclave: Your character doesn’t speak much, but he’s to-the-point when he does. The exchange of words between your character and his brethren displayed both their nature, and his. You really bring out the tone of a conversation, rather than simply listing what was said, and I thought that was well done.

Homonculus: Your dialogue remains appropriate, and thoroughly contemplated in the narrative when ‘in disguise.’ He definitely lets his frustration slip out when he heard his target had left the battle field. Outside of what your character says, though, most of the dialogue in your other scenes is revealing, but somewhat plain.


Action: 6.5/10


Deus di Enclave: You portrayed the meeting of the Lieutenants well, and your characters thoughts and analysis thereof. You play the elves very well, and give a distinct personality to each even in passing. I enjoyed your imagery in describing the battle, and though it was sparse, I felt like the action was well done.

Homonculus: During the battle you employ some nice imagery, and do well to try to show the action from both sides. When describing individual confrontations, you tend to become somewhat utilitarian, and focus more on the direct actions than any kind of mood or emotion. That makes them easy to imagine, but almost a little dull compared to the overall battle.


Persona: 6.75/10


Deus di Enclave: You describe your character’s personality well enough in your narration, and your actions and thoughts are fairly well explained. His thoughts on the battle showed his loyalty to the side for which he fought. Further into the thread it seemed more that your character’s friendship was a matter of convenience for his own goals, though in his thoughts it seemed to be more repaying a debt.

Homonculus: You keep a constant awareness of the charade your shape shifting character is performing. I believe you do that fairly well, but that seems to be what you focus on most. Despite not knowing much about his past, you give him a fair bit of personality. However, you give much more to the other characters in the thread, including those across the battle lines. Instead of focusing on them, you should’ve brought the spotlight more to your own character. He almost took a back seat to his own story.

Writing Style: 22.5/30

Technique: 6.75/10


Deus di Enclave: Though it’s a small point, asking a direct question of the reader changes the tense to second person. You’ve got a good use of imagery, especially the ‘hillside lurching forward.’ You use ellipses sparingly, but to great effect, and you also use repetition sparingly but effectively. Try to use stronger verbs, though. I’ve seen a lot of ‘making’ and ‘seeming to.’ This is where ‘show, not tell’ comes into effect. Other than that you have a solid and concise style.

Homonculus: You occasionally repeat a descriptive word in close succession to a negative effect. You also overuse ‘elsewhere’ to transition from scenes, and hardly denote the start of those ‘scenes of the enemy.’ Later into the battle your transitions become less noticeable, but in your last post you finally started denoting your scene changes. You often switch tenses accidentally, ending a verb in an ‘s’ rather than the ‘ed’ of past tense. Your style is fairly long-winded, and heavy on the dialogue, and you could remove some of the excess narration and fit in some more descriptive elements without sacrificing the pacing. Your closing thoughts really wrapped the thread up and brought it back around full circle, though. Well done, but you’ve still got some polishing to do.


Mechanics: 8.25/10


Deus di Enclave: Along with almost immaculate spelling, you employ good grammar without making it overly thick. There may have been a few errors in your posts throughout the whole thread, but for the most part they were pretty flawless. Well done.

Homonculus: There are occasional errors in your post, more so than in your partner’s post, but they only averaged maybe four to five per post. None of them were so bad I couldn’t figure out what you meant, so there wasn’t a big hit on clarity, but a little proofreading is all that keeps you from a perfect score in this category.


Clarity: 7.5/10


Deus di Enclave: You denote the transitions between different scenes well, and I hardly had to re-read anything in your posts. There were very few errors, and your wording was consistently legible and concise. I have no complaints here.

Homonculus: For the most part your posts are legible. The occasional typos in your posts, or strange wording, make them harder to understand at times. When Remar was killed it almost seemed like your character had been stabbed, due to the wording. Small things like that cause a fair bit of re-reading, but I can always work out what you meant.


Wildcard: 3.25

For the most part this was a fairly basic thread with a fairly basic premise. There were a few good parts, but it wasn’t exceptional. I enjoyed seeing the battle from both sides, though, and the story of the thread was somewhat original while fitting in with canon.


Total: 66/100


Deus di Enclave recieves...

2,000 EXP!

and

500 GP!


Homunculus recieves...

2,500 EXP!

and

500 GP!


Your rewards have been doubled for completing this thread before the FQ Chapter deadline.

EXP and GP added!

Homonculus is now level 3!