The Great Siege of Radasanth (FQ Main thread)

[Storm Veritas]

Improvisation is a key to all elements of life, a belief Storm Veritas clung firmly to and relied upon. This was fortunate, because the best laid plans for attacking Radasanth had gone completely sideways, leaving him angered but undeterred. So proud had he been to show Shinsou the ”Welcome Wagon”, loaded with gunpowder, high grade alcohol and other cheap explosives, that he hadn’t accounted for its failure to reach the front gates.

Could have ended the whole damned thing before the fighting started.

Yes, the ordinance vehicle he had lovingly crafted could have opened the tempered steel gates of Radasanth like a can of tin, however the wagon had never reached the gates. Instead, it was stopped by some damned fool scout that the Brotherhood soldiers identified from a distance unhitching the oxen from the front of the carriage, leaving it stranded some hundred yards from the front door, like a lovely gift box left by the curb.

None would remember the magnificent arrow shot that took down this scout where he stood, because for its accuracy and lethality, the arrow came a minute late. The oxen stupidly (brilliantly?) wandered away from the wall, mooing out their hunger before settling on brush. The Brotherhood forces had advanced regardless, the siege weapons settling now four hundred yards from the impossibly square cut stone wall that cast deep shadows from its eighteen feet of growth. Behind it, the large city, rich with thatch roofs, pitch-topped flat structures and water-beaten wood structures beckoned for hellfire.

“Of fucking course someone had to unhook the wagon. Because why can anything ever be easy?” Storm spoke to Shinsou on his left and Seamus on his right, the three trading petulant barbs and jokes. Anything to cut the tension before what would certainly be a grisly scene.

“Range is ready, Cap’. The cannons are well within range, as are the archers behind them. I can move up the giants at any point, but they can’t reach from the back yet. Footmen are ready to race.” Seamus stared straight at the wall ahead, envisioning the inevitable fall.

Looking left, Storm had seen the mix of feeling upon Shinsou’s face. Shin had engaged in terrible things before, however tended towards pragmatism. This was a shared feeling, although the wizard oft felt that the more heroic Telgradian underestimated the value of raw force.

“Hayate? The people? Any way to backdoor the innocent, and give us people to rule when this is over?” Shinsou reasoned in his questions, but did not plead.

Storm listened, but his resolve was set. He pulled a small steel ball from his satchel as Vaan Osiris conversed with him, the older magician wrapping the orb in cloth and using a thumb-length of wire to fasten the cloth securely.
“To every fire, there are hordes of people running in two directions. Those that run to it, and those that run from it. We’ll have to kill the brave ones, but the chickenshits will be mostly spared. Sort of makes life a little easier if we don’t have the bold, Radasanth-loyalists pushing back after we save the city. Hell, even the brave might knock their knees enough once they see the giants.”

Without another word, Storm snapped his fingers, arcing a small flame between his fingers that caught immediately to the dried cloth about the metal ball, which now floated gently over his hand. He stared at Shinsou, the stoic warrior reluctantly nodding. In a flash, the ball was fired from the hand of Veritas at the distant wagon. Sound seemed to vanish off the face of Althanas for a moment as the ball gently bounced around the wagon, small flames gently flickering out for just a moment. The moment lingered, thousands watching with baited breath until an enormous explosion rocked the landscape, a thunderous boom that left carbonized wood debris and ash billowing out of all sides from the once-was wagon. When the smoke cleared, the ground was a near perfect circle of black char, stained only by a residual splay of red where the scout once lay.

The gate stood, resolute and defiant some hundred yards from the massive explosion, met with only some small cedar scented ash floating about it. It was not for fifteen seconds before cannon-fire began crashing into the walls and rooftops by the hundreds, a sky of fire and arrows raining hell on the front door of Radasanth.

Behind the front line, a very uneasy group of horsemen waited, the steeds giving nervous brays and pecking at the earth below with their shod hooves. They had advanced slightly behind the torrent of explosions which slowly moved upon Radasanth, watching stone crumble and fires start before them, smoke beginning to accumulate in thin whiskers above the city, slightly obscuring the red star which continued to grow in the north sky.

“I’d say we wait for counterfire; we’re at a good range to keep them pinned down for now, flood the city with fire to flush soldiers and cut them down on their open charge.”

Turning his long face to Vaan Osiris once more, the wizard spoke directly in low tones.

“She’s in there, right? Do you think she fights us here, or can Hayate get her out safely? Two horn blasts from Seamus and he’ll know to extract her. Three, and…

“Three and Hayate hears that she’s beyond saving.”

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Permission to jump ahead of Phi granted, also some minor bunnying permitted by Storm

"Yeah, she’s in there alright," Shinsou muttered his response to the electromancer amongst the cacophony of the Brotherhood's assault, "and let me tell you this; Philomel will not be leaving that city in any sort of friendly capacity. Hayate can try, but I ran into her on the way up from Tylmerande, and she made it clear where her loyalties lie. We have to prepare for that. I hope he is ready too...Hayate is strong, but Philomel could be a handful."

As he mulled over the implications of his own words, the Telgradian frowned as the cinders of the welcome wagon scattered to the wind. His irritation at his failure to placate the faun a few days prior was now somewhat dampened by the need to think about the task at hand; the siege of the fair city of Radasanth, and how best to proceed. He waved Storm closer to him as the no longer functioning wagon smoldered a good distance away from the main gate.

"I’d bet that most of the minor gates in the inner wall have been closed since your forces began encamping nearby, for security," he mused. Shaking his coat, the Telgradian trotted forward slightly, pointing at three separate points of the city wall; one east, another straight ahead, and one west. Swinging his sheath in perhaps a too-nonchalant way, he leaned toward the intrigued electromancer and continued his line of thinking.

“Those points, there, are where I think the gates are. If we concentrate on raining fire down on those parts, we’ll flush their flanks from the sides of the city into the middle because they’ll have nowhere else to go. I’ll finish off your plan and obliterate the gate to create a vent, because it won’t be long before those soldiers decide they prefer to take their chances out here with us. When they do, as you said, we’ll decimate their open charge.”

The brief break this initiated gave Storm a chance to fill his pipe with that familiar cherry tobacco, his blue eyes meeting Shinsou’s. There was a silent nod in agreement. The Telgradian held back for a few seconds, apparently steadying himself.

“You know, it could just be bullshit but I heard that the soldiers in there switched to rubber and leather armor once they heard it was you out here. Cute of them to think of you, really, especially as you are the quiet one of us,” Shinsou said with a grin and a hint of irony, “Seems a bit pointless, though. Rubber not only smolders, but it’s really easy to pierce with dark matter or ice. Or small, homemade iron bullets.”

Storm snorted lightly, the best he could do under the stress that chugging his pipe was putting his lungs through, and sallied forth. "Nice of them to pay me the compliment, but I don’t much care if it’s rubber, iron, wood or human shit. If they come out here for me and you, and they will, it won't matter what they're wearing. They’re only coming to die.”

"Right," Shinsou responded, "Well, if we’re in agreement, tell your cannons and ballistas to focus on those easterly and westerly points. I’m going to open that gate."

It’s been a while since I’ve done this...hopefully it puts the fear of god into whoever is standing around to watch. Shinsou thought to himself, a smile crossing his lips. Even though he could only maintain it for very short periods of time, his Starflare Pulsar was one of the strongest spells in his arsenal, able to generate such powerful gravitational force that even diamond struggled to maintain its physical form for long under its weight. The gates of Radasanth would be a sinch, and the sheer spectacle of the attack would surely give the armed resistance of Radasanth second thoughts about what they were coming up against.

The main gate could take the cynicism out of any man, at least for a few minutes. Shinsou could only compare its grandeur to the Citadel. It stood at least three times the height of the wall on either side of it that encircled the outer city of Radasanth. As he approached it, the Telgradian estimated its height as between seventy and eighty feet. Shinsou rested his eyes as an ethereal wind suddenly picked up from around his feet, howling and tearing at everything within five feet of him, with himself in the ‘eye’. Even as this localised but violent gale ensued, the inner wall never expanded inwards, ensuring that his storm never flayed his own skin, much less clip at his soul.

Fill the arrogant vessel with madness, deny the seething urge to crawl. Unite, repent, fill the ground and know your own powerlessness.

The incantation was never heard, but its effects were immediate. Manifesting in the center of Radasanth’s wrought iron front door was a rapidly expanding and viciously hissing black mass, born of a marble of dozens of distinct colors. Seven orbs of dark matter materialized above this black core, swirling and orbiting before suddenly striking the black hole with such force that everything within two hundred feet shook violently and the resulting shockwave knocked Shinsou off his feet. As the Telgradian stumbled back to an upright position, the chaotic aftermath quickly became apparent. A swirling, oily mist drifted around a super-heated heap of crumpled, twisted iron that once comprised the gate. Amongst the devastated brickwork were once finely carved statues, representing important events in the history of the city, that now lay in ruinous piles around the edges of a breach almost fifty feet across. The gloomy cloud of residual dark magic made it difficult for Shinsou to make anything out beyond the destroyed gate, but he had used this spell before, and knew the destruction would have eaten another fifty feet into the city boundaries.

Turning slowly back to Storm and his men, his lungs heaving and his muscles aching with the sheer effort of the conjuring and its aftermath, Shinsou cast his eyes over a watching Brotherhood. Some of the horses had spooked and brayed harshly. The men were slightly rattled, having only seen this once before, but before long were stoic and ready again.

“…I screwed up; used up too much damn energy,” Shinsou admitted as he limped past Storm and clasped a hand on his shoulder, “That one is tough to control and is a hell of a drain, but the gate is open. I’m going to need a few minutes to get my breath back.”

[Philomel]

There upon the wall, where darkness had bitten.

She was indeed within the city, and she was near the gate when the mighty explosion erupted.

There was a single, defying sound. It shattered what minor peace was left within the besieged city, shattering whatever hope had been held out, despite the engines of war that lay at their door. For the world now trembled, the country now shook, knowing that the enemy was truly at their door. Now, unavoidable, inevitable, resplendent.

Definitely, no longer hiding.

The gates blasted apart without mercy. Despite the wagon having never made it, the huge structures of iron and stone twisted, burnt, rent and were ruined, devastated, and blasted as the poison of nothingness, the void of destruction that appeared in a single globe (at least it would be reported later) exploded hatefully. And, just as towers and walls had been crushed by the ballistae and catapults, ancient stones that had held against Radasanth and Corone's enemies for many decades and centuries burst apart. The aged gate, strong, was suddenly gone. Stone flew, people screamed, the city cried out in a hollow, fearful voice. And the guards, so patiently and desperately guarding their home, were killed without any chance of survival.

"Oh ... my ... Drys above!"

She felt them, ripped from existence as if she had a personal connection to them. Indeed, she did, in spirit and in brotherhood, for defence of their city, but it could have been in mind and soul. Eight warriors, each under her command, were instantly killed; taken from the world and their wives and children. Taken from their city, their home and their lives. Eight - not the first to be taken, indeed, for others had been taken in the stonework that had so far been shattered by the siege engines - yet, the first so obviously, so dreadfully, so terribly.

So ...

She began to run. Directly, to the gaping wound in the walls of the city. In her wake Kerr Barren ran, the Major of the city guard who had since dedicated himself to her. In those few hours that they had been together now, he was hers. Until their possible death. As she ran she called commands as she passed warriors of the various tribes she had control of - the city guard, the Rangers of Underwood, the old imperial warriors of Corone, and those battle-trained whores of Radasanth who had volunteered. To some she told to stay and hold, to some she called to follow. Others, to the captains and generals, she gave little orders, and allowed them to use their instinct, especially the archers who would fire upon whatever army approached.

And some had approached. To destroy and rend the gates. Immediately, fiery arrows began to fill the sky, a wave as the faun of fauns ran past them. And as they came from one side of the non-existent gates, so did too they begin to rain from the other side. A volley of them, and then volley of normal arrows. Great crossbows on rotating bodies, small catapults that could not shoot as far as the siege weapons, yet fitted neatly upon the wall.

Philomel kept running. Over to the gap in the wall, where she aimed to defend what might come through with earth and sword. And as she did she called out with her mind.

My darling! she finally called out.

And deep beneath the earth, something stirred.

* * *

There upon where the earth rises, where the siege engines lie.

A wide, savage crack shockingly ripped through the ground. Ten feet long it caught the base and foot of a catapult, which jerked to the side beneath the irregularity. The stone ball it had been preparing to fire rolled out of the sling, crashing to the ground upon the toe of a siege engine worker. He let out a shriek, as painful as they came as the crack began to widen.

And from the rend there burst a horror. All mottled grey, brown, and khaki green. All scales and savagery and anger. All teeth and claw and fireless breath, who came like a doom and threw his jaws right around the first catapult. Straight into the wood and iron did he bite - a creature from another world. For the underground was his home, and tremors from the assault on the city had disturbed him. Simply, and without hesitation, he ran through the wood, splintering it and then swallowing what he had bitten whole. Then he dove, right back down into the earth. His long lithe body, purely built for burying and for war, dug once down into the soil, but only shallowly.

A line in the earth followed his movement, but he was fast, surprisingly so for his thirty foot of length. He snapped at the next catapult. And ate it. And moved to the next, chomping as he went. His skin was as tough as steel, his teeth able to eat mythril. Half a second did the people have before he dove and ate what he willed, and then he paused -

And roared. And a wave of sonic energy blasted out from him. They shattered wood fifteen feet away, and the very grass to tremble at its roots.

People fled.

For Delath had been released.

* * *

There within the Hall of Steel, where the Assembly waits.

Sebastian held onto his own. And he prayed that his dear wife, Harriet, would be well.

She at least had left the city. Like the Brotherhood had demanded of the Assembly, she had even left the country and gone to stay Akashima alongside other wives and lovers. Secretly had they gone, looking as much like refugees as anything.

But he - he could not abandon his home. He held onto a long curved knife, naked in the firelight as he and the other members hunkered in the back, windowless room that they had claimed as their place of defence. One single Assembly member, Gerard Carruthers, had been selected to wait in a secret location in the basement in a public house in the city, just in case the worst situation that they would all die in the siege. Or if the Brotherhood should win, and then he would rise as a voice for the people.

But for the rest of them, they held their own, surrounded by the greatest warriors that the city had to offer. For too long had they toiled to make their country the wavering democracy that it was, culling the empire, striving through a civil war. Ten Rangers of Underwood, ten knights, who had once been in the company of the Ixian warriors, and ten holy paladins who worshipped the local gods, stood around the corners of the three chambers. They were fully armed and eyed the single doorway. Through it was another room, this one with windows, and armed to the brim with crossbowmen.

Sebastian breathed slowly, and wished he could be part of the fight. But he and the others had to survive. They had to remain in secret, up inside this fortress with towers and the best defence. Surviving on stuffy bedspreads, salted pork and dried fruit. Water was brought up from a well below, and at every point in the way checked by a guard dedicated to the city.

It was as secure as they could be. In the circumstances.

[Hayate_Amatsukami]

“Hush now my love, dry your eyes…” Hayate could hear the voice of a mother waver as she tried to console her babe, they and many others were seaking refuge within the main hall of the Steel Keep. The sounds of rolling chaos filled the air as the battle for their city had begun in earnest. With each and every crumbling rampart, dust fell from the rafters, showering the hundred or so civilians and scattered mercenaries on either side of the hall. There were a number of central facing pews filled to the brim with those who weren’t able to flee the city before the fighting, and surrounding them at all entrances were hastily build barricades of sandbags and crates as well as anything else they could push up against the doors. From here there were a few ways in or out but none that were unguarded by either the Radasanthian guard, the Imperial remnants, or some freelance mercs hired by the Assembly.

As the Shinobi sat in contemplation near the rear of the hall he watched as a few men came in and out of the way leading further into the keep, in the direction of where he presumed the Assembly to be riding out the storm. His mind raced as he tried to come up with some plan to make it past the guards, there were four men armed with the insignia of the Imperials. Knowing their past and how skillfully the Imperial army had trained and implemented before Hayate bided his time, not wanting to waste this opportunity.

As he formulated some kind of plan Hayate took notice of a handful of small dirty children gathering just off to his right. Among them were a few that looked to be no older than ten, these were by far the oldest of them. Hayate could tell they were among the street urchins of the Capital, being dressed in tattered rags and caked in grim were obvious tells, but there was no adult in sight that looked to claim them. He bit his lip, fighting the urge to give up on his mission altogether. Why the hell were these children still here, why hadn’t the assembly done something more for them then just corralling them in to wait for slaughter? He stood up and turned to face the ten or so kids before walking over and placing a hand upon the oldest of them. The small boy had short curly blonde hair and was startled as he turned to face Hataye with a face withered by fear.

“What’s the big deal!” the boy yelled as he shoved himself off of Hayate taking a step back. The boy stood tall and bravely in between Hayate and the others.

“Calm yourself son,” the shinobi said pulling off his hood and showing a concerned smile. “Tell me where your parents are?” The boy was quiet but didn’t for a moment waver. Or at least not to the untrained eye, but Hayate could see pain willowing up inside the boy child.

“Gone… just like everyone's...”

“I see,” Hayate said as he squatted down meeting the child at eye level. “Well then tell me what your name is, so I can talk to you like an adult.” Again the boy was quiet for a moment.

“Grell… and these are my friends.” He said as the others cautiously peaked from over his shoulders and behind the pews.

“You are all very brave aren’t you, staying calm down here and keeping everyone safe. The generals should throw you a feast when this is all down.” He said smiling again trying with all his heart to comfort them. Again the keep shook, startling all the little ones as the recoiled back down under the pews.

“I don’t care about that, just my friends,” Grell said fighting the urge to hide.

“That is the bravest thing I’ve heard anyone say in all my entire life. Grell, I’m going to let you into a little thing, but you have to keep it a secret. Nothing bad is going to happen to you or them, because just like you I’m strong and all I care about are my friends. And from this moment on you, all of you are my friends.”

The boy’s face lite up, but only to fall back down into sadness as the Steel Keep continued to rattle. He appeared to want to join the others but before he could Hayate reached into his cloak pulling out a fairly decently sized case stopping him. The Shinobi opened it revealing an array of sharp knives and signed for Grell to take the case. After a brief moment of consideration, the boy took the case, holding it tightly to his chest.

“When this is all over I’d like to ask you to do something for me,” Hayate said before letting the boy go back to the others. “Find me, no matter what you may hear, but for now I want you to do anything you can to keep them all safe."

[Paladin_Lorenor]

A Hero.

Once he was called that.

Lorenor held the hilt of weapon tightly, attempting to draw some sort of comfort and a stability. He panicked. In his mind he only saw the first time it happened, during the Demon War of antiquity. He was seeing the ravages of war play out in his head. People were screaming and dying looking for a way out..but in he was only an old man. Who had seen this very event before during The Demon War.

He was gasping in panic and fear. His eyes darted from battle to battle as the front gates of Radasanth were shattered by an all too familiar power. What do I do...? By all rights the last Ixian Knight should not have been there. His people's time had come long since, indeed he was a relic of a lost time. I can't do this on my own... Just beyond his vision he saw a familiar face.

The Vampire Urei.

Urei walked up to Lorenor and extended his hand as chaos erupted all around them. "Why are you afraid my love?" Urei suddenly asked as Lorenor reached out to his old Lover and Master.

"What do I do...?" Lorenor asked, the panic had taken it's grip on his heart. He was just an old man.

"Trust in the light." Urei said.

Lorenor nodded to Urei. The light..had never once lad him astray since Reformation with the Ixian Knights so long ago. It was at that point a dragon came forth from the bowels of hell itself...The dragon had a different agenda. Lorenor observed as it flew towards the field of battle. It was not a threat to the people directly. He was in a state of panic, but right then, he saw something else. A group of people attempting to flee the battle was suddenly crushed by flame arrows and cannon balls.

Lorenor gritted his teeth when he saw that. Rage filled his heart. ..What do I do...? Lorenor slowly walked towards the burning corpses, one a dying woman looked up at the glowing Paladin.

"Why is this happening?" She barely uttered.

Lorenor, following the ritualistic rites of his Order knelt down next to the fallen. He placed a hand on the forehead of the dying woman and began to cry for her. He gave her her final rites. No. The Last Ixian Knights was giving Radasanth herself her final rites. He began to utter the incantations that would compel the spirits of the fallen to The After of the legendary Thayne Codex.

But something happened that he did not expect.

"...Ixian..." The voice of the woman called out to him in spirit form.

Lorenor finished the rites and turned to look at the ethereal form of the woman. "You are afraid."

"I don't know what to do." Lorenor said honestly to the ghost.

"Take my strength, Paladin." She said plainly. "You know the compelling arts of your people yes?"

Lorenor hesitated. But nodded in compliance. It was his duty to tend to the dead. Lorenor finished the rites of passage and observed the lost spirits on their journey to The After. Lorenor looked at the woman, and extended his hand to her. "Come with me." He commanded in the spiritual rites of his order.

"It shall be so." She responded and took Lorenor's hand.

The spirit guided him to the location of Hayate and Grell's position. Lorenor was tired. But he no longer was afraid...he merely felt numb at that point. Lorenor and the compelled spirit stumbled upon the chamber where Hayate and Grell lurked. "Akashiman!" Lorenor was glad to see familiar markings on Hayate's person. He looked at several survivors present. Lorenor held a serious expression on his face. "Akashiman we have to get them out of here, any who wish to live. You wish to live...come with me." Lorenor walked towards Hayate. He'd been relatively near to Hayate's position and the walk wasn't that long. He saw the survivors gathered around Hayate. "We have to get them out of here." Lorenor said.

A Hero.

That's what he once was...

[Storm Veritas]

The arrival of Delath to the battlefield was no less upsetting to the armies of the Brotherhood of the Castigars than a fire in a theater, or perhaps a tapeworm on one’s digestive system. Like a great, armored mole the mighty earth dragon burrowed a channel at great speed, the ground above it rupturing earth and crust like a shark’s ten feet before striking the first catapult. Delath erupted from the ground in a great muddy eruption, a maelstrom of fangs and claws and horror splintering and obliterating the support ballast and lever arm of the great siege weapon, rendering it utterly useless. While men jumped back in exasperated horror, the spectacular dragon disappeared back into the earth no less rapidly.

“The FUCK is that thing!?” Storm was momentarily stunned before his memory recalled the great familiar of Philomel. Pulling on the sleeve of his chained armor nervously, the electromancer was frozen. He stared at the broken mound of earth for answers as his army continued to fire upon Radasanth, the steady rhythm of catapults, archers, cannoneers and trebuchets pumping wave after wave of terror down upon the walls and city alike. It was only moments before history repeated itself, and Delath completely erased a large trebuchet as a sharp knife can cut taut canvas.

He’s going to take ALL the siege weapons. Can we peel back?

Storm stood atop the great Attila aside Shinsou as he looked at the smoke-pouring city before him, and looked back at the desolation behind him. If they retreated, Radasanth would be summarily reinforced, and there was no replacing the siegecraft lost or men that would flee a failed siege. This was the only time to strike.

“We’ve got to hit those gates hard and heavy. If you’re still worn, peel back for now and get the second batallian to attack that fucking dragon. He has laid his plan; we need cover for the siege-craft. Let’s whack that mole hard the next time he pops up. “

Still fatigued, Shinsou nodded and sat upright his own steed. “Is that all, then? Just slay the magical disappearing dragon in the four seconds he pops up to eat our beautiful catapults? Anything else, m’Lord?”

The wizard smiled at his friend, understanding the absurdity of their situation. “Put my mead on ice; looks like I’m going to need a tall glass when this is said and done.” Riding off with a nod, Storm gestured to his lieutenants, who immediately rallied the throngs of soldiers into formation.

My Gods, they move well. You’d think they actually liked us if you didn’t know better.

The footmen, some cavalry, archers and cannoneers formed long ranks, standing shoulder to shoulder some thirty wide in a long row. Although focused and ready, they were far from fearless; many eyes popped back with each successive explosion of the dragon behind them eviscerating the battlefield, wiping another weapon from the world. To their left, nearly splitting them, the thin magician and General boomed his noble voice from atop his enormous horse.

“It’s alright men, I’m scared too. Soak in the fear. It quickens the pulse, and focuses the eyes. Let it sharpen you, make you lethal.”

“Death is coming for us all, and for some we meet him today. For some of our brothers, we bring the chance to free the greatest city in the world of tyranny. Breathe for just a moment, and relish in your legacies.”

Smiles and nods, men beginning to puff their chest and flare their nostrils.

“Today, you have a choice. You can fight hard and live forever, or lay it down, dying as sweat-stains in a history book. Pretty fucking easy choice, you think?”

At this, the front squadron of soldiers began hollering, clanging shield to sword in thumps and bangs. Fear had no place among the terrified.

“Shields up and cannons at the ready. Radasanth only thinks they’re ready for the Castigars; it’s time to bring hell to their fucking doorstep!”

At this, Storm and Attila charged ahead, the mighty black steed pumping hooves into the earth. The men broke from a walk into a charge as he pumped his sword forward, joined by Commander Brackett’s identical signal opposite him on the right flank of the great line of men.

As they entered a range of four hundred yards, the distant command of Radasanthian Army leadership echoed faintly, and a barrage of arrows littered the dark sky like little stars, flickering as they moved through the light paths of assaulting fireballs, moonlight, and the ominous red star growing before them all.

There’s so many. So goddamned many.

“Shields up!”

In a single motion, a ceiling of iron and wood emerged above the batallions, as shields were raised to stop the oncoming arrow fire. Metal-tipped barbs, Storm was able to easily wave off the two dozen arrowheads that had been positioned for him. The majority of arrows aimed at Seamus bounced off his horses armor, although one barb struck between his thigh and knee plates, forcing a furious roar from the old man.

Between them, the shield-covered men were not so lucky. The arrows largely found purchase upon shields, however the vast numbers were far too heavy. Errant shots snaked between gaps in the shield ceiling or upon the sides, dropping men as though they fell through thin ice. The roars of horror were drowned by the larger cry of charging men, and the falling soldiers left large gaps for more arrows, which quickly fell as the charging wave trampled the just dead.

Gods…

Knowing he could not protect his beloved mount, Storm reared Attila and hopped off, shooing the beast back to the tent-grounds as he effortlessly flipped away the second wave of arrows. Some men hesitated as Lord Veritas had stopped, and he pivoted his icy gaze towards them venomous. “Move! What I’ve got behind you is much worse than the men before you!!”

The wave of men hit the gates fast, thumping headlong into a steady wave of pike and sword wielding Radasanth guards. The defense buckled but did not yield, the screams of unidentified men lost in the madness of cannon fire, dragon assault, and battle cries.

“Cannons! The Wall! Hit the battlements!” The great Commander Brackett boomed from his horse, blood forming below the arrow he had snapped above the knee. For no less than two hundred yards from the gate in each direction, archers continued to pepper the wave of men, now bottlenecked at the gate and dying by the dozen with each progressive round. The old commander was shielded by the massive tower shield he held above himself, but was felled as a stray bolt struck above the hoof of his beast. Sad and furious, Seamus limped up on his weak leg, holding the tower shield high and listening to the ting-ting of countless thwarted attacks.

“Storm, we’re pinned! We need you!” Brackett backed into the wall of men, who moved to surround him as a human shield. Desperate eyes sought out to the wizard, irate with the terrible turn of events. A singular thought dominated him, one which his stoic visage refused to share with his men.

We’re completely fucked.

Eyes on the wall, he grew weary of waving away the ceaseless barrage of arrows heading his way. Without a word, he broke hard left, his hand raised to the wall as he moved in a full sprint, breaking across the perimeter of the battered defensive wall as archers shot wildly at him. In the center, blood was pooling a the feet of the soldiers as their own men died around them, and they struggled to move the dead to their own perimeter to serve as makeshift meat-shields for the helpless.

“He’s running away!” A Castigar troop uttered, despondent in his fate, stranded without hope at the gate as more and more men fell, and the front line surged forward into Radasanth so impossibly slowly.

“No, he’s going to hit them. Haven’t you heard about him before?” A grinning fool pointed towards the seemingly suicidal adventurer as Storm Veritas was sprinting towards the wall now, wider than the men had been positioned. There were still a few men where the lunatic was heading, however they couldn’t hear the shouts from their commanding officers. With a single pulse of electromagnetic energy upon his metallic gear, Storm Veritas was propelled high and gracefully at the wall some two hundred and fifty yards from the gate.

These men don’t need a gambler or a trickster; they need a god. I can’t be merely GOOD, I must be godlike.

Storm’s maniacal idea was what he configured as his only hope, a desperate and reckless idea to save his men from the trap he had charged them into. As he vaulted to the top of the wall, he was met with two men pulling their arrows towards the surprise invader. They almost made it, before a twin pair of electric blasts ripped through them with a loud CRACK-BANG that left his signature odor of ozone in its wake. They fell peacefully to the ground, innocent children laid to rest one final time. To his left, there were no men in sight, but to his right, a tremendous row of archers that had never expected his arrival.

There were hundreds of them, perhaps thousands. They were men no better or worse than his own. They were men with parents and brothers and sisters and wives and children. Storm was able to suppress his humanity as the first line of four or five had pivoted to fix their arrows upon him.

An arrow carved through his right shoulder as his eyes flashed white, the projectile cutting through his thin chain from this distance without much effort. The fury magnified the rage of the legendary wizard, who proceeded to unleash hell like never before. With a scream, he erupted an enormous, pulsing beam of white and blue lightning down the length of the passage upon the wall’s top, fragments of energy splintering off effortlessly in it’s hate-fueled wake.

Get down. Get down. Get down.

Completely exhausted, Storm saw only smoke before him, the thick fumed obfuscating him from the horror his incredible attack had unleashed. Had he killed ten men? A thousand? There was no time to examine the wreckage. If even one lived, they could claim him if he collapsed atop the wall. His eyes on smoking Radasanth, Storm witnessed a thatch-roofed building that had yet to catch fire. Before the smoke cleared, he tripped as he tried to jump to the roof, crashing through the thatch into the darkness of the building below.

What he had done would be remembered, but certainly not completely by his own accord.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

He hadn’t even been aware of it, but Shinsou had actually fallen asleep for a few seconds. The momentary rest in the wake of Delath’s assault was less than soothing; abruptly ended by the snapping of Storm’s deadly electricity some hundred foot away from the splintered remains of a supply cart the Telgradian had propped himself up against. Shackles of fatigue bound his arms and legs as he dragged himself groggily along the bog-like field outside of the city gates that was now littered with the smoldering debris of their siege engines. The massive loss of these essential weapons compounded the other problems now facing the co-leader of the Brotherhood. The first one was the massive wall of Radasanthian men he could see through hazy eyes. They congregated and clustered at the maw of Radasanth’s lost gate, fighting for their lives against the Brotherhood soldiers Storm had sent in after his attack.

The second was morale. In the face of all the brutality and the killing, the soldiers were trying to weather the shitstorm of having both lost their weapons and the leadership of the electromancer, who had disappeared over the wall. Shinsou, wrapped in his signature white greatcoat, could see the guarded look in their eyes whenever the back line glanced his way over their shoulders. They needed something, anything, to give them a push. They needed to know that the Brotherhood hadn’t broken. The Telgradian could see past the marauding ranks, through to the defending Radasanthians. He could feel all of those eyes stabbing at him with their doubts, hate, and ill will.

Look at them. These soldiers here are sheep, feeling compelled to defend because it validates them. Is it because they live in a society where their contributions are routinely ignored, and their wellbeing neglected? Is it escapism? Either way, it plays into the Assembly’s hands. This show they are putting on is one meant solely to garner their hatred of us, to deflect from the idea that there is another way for this country to be run.

It felt as if, in that moment, all of Corone was screaming at Shinsou. A harsh wind now assaulted his face and white garbed body, and newly formed tears of rain settled translucent on his clothes. Watching as his struggling men looked for positive reinforcement, something snapped to life within the Telgradian. There was no point wasting any more time or men for the sake of hiding his true power, when not a man or woman alive would gain anything from just seeing it. Embracing this second wind, Shinsou flicked a mass of saturated brown hair from his face.

“Come, Enpera!”

In response, spirit particles manifested and smothered the palm of his hand. An intricate arcane glyph smoldered in the flesh as the Telgradian’s sword violently snapped into existence. He curled his dirty fingers one by one around the green cord of the katana and, as he did, Telgradia’s most powerful warrior rose to his full height. Cramped muscles spasmed into life as whorls of malicious light enveloped his entirety. The Brotherhood soldiers in the rear of the assault noticed the enormous, disquieting release of energy and those not fighting started to break to the flanks. Some of those stragglers stared in awe, whilst others looked at each other reassuringly. Their leader was famous for his reserved approach to fighting; never wanting to expend more energy than required. Even when fighting someone he considered an equal, the Telgradian was not known for pushing himself beyond his first few gears. Now, though, they watched the prelude to something that only a handful in existence had ever seen.

Shinsou’s Hakai.

Storm would have been proud, had he not been napping inside a house within the city limits. There was no silly spoken incantation accompanying Enpera’s release. There were no gestures, dances, or ceremonial motions. No filler, and no bullshit. What there was, was a sword big enough to cleave a horse in half extended before him, overlaid with a pulsating kaleidoscope of black and purple arcane electricity. Power surged like adrenaline at his every whim. Hakai had activated with such force that Shinsou found himself stood in the center of a small foxhole; the earth beneath him forced into cragged clay.

Then, golden eyes steeled on the Radasanthian wall of men, he stepped forth.

Two silent footfalls disguised the rest of his movements. As Shinsou careered towards the center of the wall, his hands flashed to his sides, palms downwards, and Enpera’s hundred and eighty centimeter blade carved a perfect diagonal arc across the wall of men. There was no discrimination in the chaos – most of the Brotherhood had seen fit to move out of the way, knowing what was likely coming, but a number of the front runners couldn’t keep up with the breakneck speed of the Telgradians movements and succumbed to the devastating slash. At least, for them, it was instant. A chaotic clatter of slashed armor, dropped weapons and pouches cascaded with their owner’s blood-soaked corpses to the cold stone archway of the crumpled gateway. A wall of purple backwash pierced the light, dazzling and disorienting, disappearing almost as soon as the sword stroke finished.

It was only a fraction of his power in this form, but the strike had wrought havoc on the living blockage, casting a dark flash into the high vaults and recessed alcoves of the entryway and most importantly had carved a path through the blockade into the city. The rows of soldiers that once stood in their way now parted slightly, their eyes alight with the remnants of their hatred for Shinsou but unsure of the wisdom of confronting him. The Telgradian knew they would converge and attack again at any minute, likely more feral than before, but all he cared about now was that he had unlocked the defense for his brethren. He could hear their cheers around him, a cacophony of rousing shouts and screams; the sign of a depleted force not willing to just lie down and die.

They could take it from here, and he shouted as much back to them before cutting his way through another small group of soldiers. There was a much more important matter to attend to; a meeting that had been destined for such a long time. As wind wafted through the limp strands of his sweat soaked hair, Shinsou reached out.

He reached out, and with his senses, he found her location. Judging from the sheer strength of her energy, as well as Delath's unexpected participation in events, Shinsou reckoned that she was nearby, in the heart of the action. After all, she was Radasanth's greatest defensive asset.

There was no question that title belonged to her. Philomel van der Aart was comparible to him on every level, and held a terrifying command over a number of forms and a working knowledge of geomancery. That was before taking into consideration her powerful familiars Veridian and Delath, who were equally as bent for revenge against him. The only way that the Telgradian was ever going to truly get near her was Hakai, but he had sincerely hoped it would never come to that.

...Because if i'm using Hakai in a fight, it means that things have gotten so bad that one of us is going to die...

[Philomel]

Already their city was burning. Already innocents were being murdered and it was falling to ash. What little could be done, was being done, but the enemy was at the door - no, through the door - and there was only so much that could be done to keep the two mighty and magical warriors with their thousands-strong army from doing the least amount of damage.

High on the high Delath roared as retaliation abounded upon him. His steel hide fended off as many attacks as it could before he started to bleed. Despite his speed, with the second or so of time of warning that the catapultists had before he rose from the earth, he was one beast against many swords. He broke down many of the siege weapons, ripping them out of existence and devouring some whole, his jaws working like that of a snake. They did not unhinge, but they came close, extending and snapping around with the ferocity born in him of a true dragon warrior that he once had been, before he had lost his wings and become akin to a wyrm. Yet, dragon still lived on in his heart, and so he fought.

He fought, even when the pikes speared him, and his red rich blood soaked in their clothing. He fought, even as one misfire caught him on the flank and sent him sprawling. He fought, even as hammers and cannon fire - damn those loud booming things - resounded around him. It was only when he felt the energy begin to drain out of him, when he had swung his tail into the line of a ballista, that he knew he need to retreat. Down he buried back into the earth, calling out to the one he called mother.

Many destroyed, he hissed. But need to rest now.

•~•

Other explosions. Other crumblings of the wall. Other breakings of hearts as bodies were thrown into the air, across the chaos of the city that was dying, screaming, yelling.

People didn't see the other tunnel being created in the wall. Or those that did were dead and dying. Instead they concentrated on the gate, where the hero of their time, Philomel van der Aart, ran along the walls to hold up the defence there. They cheered - or they cried out. And died. Fed to the fires of fate as the Telgradian strode through the horrors that were.

Of course the warriors eventually found the wall. As longbowmen took up their stance, and mages with them, the breach was found. They hailed down one of the riding messengers and troops were momentarily set up to hold that small breach.

Others would be found, in time, and the soldiers would do their best as their general ran. Orders filtered through what was becoming known as the Assembly army. They came back to the ears of majors, and were sent through them, but the General had her own task.

•~•

As Philomel vaulted off the walls she nodded and communicated back to him. Over her shoulder she heard the explosion as the section of the wall that had held the archers with their fiery arrows was splintered. The whole section of archtechiture was torn asunder - not into a void like the gate, but it was so savagely destroyed by some dark and storm-laden magics that she could taste the very deaths in the air of the soldiers.

She had to pray that the others on the opposite side of the ruined gate could hold it all. For now.

Or not.

"General!" screamed someone, somewhere. A soldier, on a dashing horse. "They are coming - coming into the gate!"

Though she was only an honourary general, she knew he meant her. Turning, Philomel barely looked at the man as she landed before him, her hooves catching on the ground. She stood straight and drew both her blades at the same time. Both white, both haunting, both having brought so much death.

"I and this battalion," she gestured with a blade behind her as those she had called upon - soldiers of the city guard, Underwood rangers, and Lily whores now warriors - during her run came down into the city and off the walls via a rudimentary staircase. Broken and stone. It had suffered damage, much like everything so far in this battle, but it still held solid. "We will hold them off. Tell the others to gear up the calvary. Expect to assault. And -" she searched around. "Kerr?"

Kerr Barren saluted her as he rushed to her side.

Apologetically she smiled at him. "You will need to go back up the stairs. Hold them off - we lost half the archers there. Get the longbows - and the battle mages. Keep as many as you can at bay for as long as you can whilst we amount a defence. Can you do that?"

The human she had been put in charge of, he of the city guard, paused, before he nodded. Then he turned, running as fast as his long lithe legs could carry him. Soon, from behind the broken walls a further rain of arrows would be shot. This time they would be barbed. And they would be fierce. They would come down on whomever they met to hold back the Brotherhood for as long as possible, to defend their city. And above them, in the skies, hovering, would be the few battle mages that had given themselves to the Siege effort. Short range warriors with simple striking force abilities. A further line of artillery fire. But they would hold for as long as they could, and up in the air - well they were fluid and able. They would provide cover whilst the innocent bystanders of the city gained into the inner walls, and the cavalry prepared.

And Philomel ...

She looked around her, seeing her small gathering force. There were just two hundred of them, but they would do. They would need to do. They included as well a small group of undyingly loyal Lily members. Some of them eyed her, and a redhead amongst them spoke low to the others. Philomel heard the words, "protect her until death."

Raising her blade she growled, feeling in the earth for Delath, where he rested, and trying not to think of Ioder who was still beyond the wall somewhere, having given himself with his battalion. Dead or alive, or lost, she did not know his fate.

But current war was not a time for mourning. Gathering her wits she turned to run again, her hooves easily out-pacing any of her companions. She managed to get to the void in the walls before they, where the glorious gate had once stood, where Radasanth had once claimed herself impenetrable. Now, it was ruined, and she had a good feeling who was behind it. Who - or what. For he was nothing but a thing to her now.

Sweeping up her right blade, which shone with the light of a star, she summoned her magic. Around her were the ruined stones - she savagely called them to her and thrust her arm forwards. The power of Drys filled her, and shot out at her will. Rock rose, that had just recently been the wall just destroyed and began to construct a new barricade before her. Small, and rudimentary, it was only a few metres long and one high, but it barred the way between the enemy and her for now, and would force them - when they came - around the sides, after they came through the gap. Like a funnel. Where her small mixed and multi-talented army could pinch and kill.

She swept her arm again. The wall got bigger. Her platoon of newly formed front line defenders gulped in awe, before they were given short and sharp orders to construct themselves into defensive shield walls.

"We must hold until the cavalry is ready," she growled, trying not to think of him. Damn him, he had to have gone and ruined everything, did he not? Behind her the distant hooves of the messenger who had spoken of those coming through the gate could be heard, alerting the Radasanth mixed horsemen to prepare. She began to climb the barricade she had just made, deciding not to jump, but rather clamber, shoving her swords straight into the rocks and thinking that she was plunging them into his flesh.

She heard similar sounds and looked over her shoulder to see five woman following her. All Lily whores turned temporary warriors. The redhead was not amongst them. In fact she seemed to have disappeared. But Philomel did not have time to worry about that. So the five women were following her. Likely to show their loyalty and commitment to her. That might be a good thing.

She got to the top of the wall and stood there. The five, who would later be called the Gilded Quint, stood there bold and made their stand. An archer, a minor earth mage, a swordswoman, a crossbowwoman and a healer.

"Damn, Drys-cursed," she swore. And tried to not think about him.

But it was impossible - for in no time at all it was he who came striding through the streets. Around the back of the wall.

Through the city itself.

[Ioder_Horvat]

The brazen star hovered overhead washing the capital in its crimson light, the sky itself turned the color red as the war for Radasanth continued. Hundreds or more unrecognizable corpses riddled the land, friend and foe alike the casualties were undoubtedly massive. It was unlike anything Ioder had ever seen, far surpassing mother dragon, the bastards of the Brotherhood put Moonwing's rampage to shame. How on earth would the capital ever recover? How could the people forgive those responsible for such a bloody night? The aging wizard continued to fight as if his life depended on it, he and a handful survived the assaults of both Storm Veritas and Shinsou though it was now a fight for survival.

Ioder and the others had taken refuge behind a large pile of rubble, formerly the eastern barricade, as Shinsou advanced taking down the archers on the postern wall. Gingerly the spellsword peered from cover as the rest of the Brotherhood soldiers began to spill into the city following their general. Ioder looked back at the twenty-five or so soldiers still standing behind him. He thought to himself that maybe three or four of them looked to be well enough to still make a stand, but the others wouldn't be much help. They had to do something or the city would fall, their moment was nigh.

“Ser,” one of the more wounded soldiers at Ioder’s command spoke up as he limped his way forward. “We’re not dumb, those sons of bitches are gonna kill us all at this rate.” He and the others looked up to Ioder as the captain gazed back at them knowing what was going to happen.

“What are you saying soldier?” Ioder said hearing the truth. He may have a chance but the others, he wouldn't be able to save them. “Have you all given up?”

“No Ser, if we all die tonight, then we will all die on our own terms.” the man said as he rose his sword high in the air as Philomel did on the wall. The others behind him did the same as they all accepted the reality of their grave situation. “I had my chance to flee, we all did, but what kind of men would that make us!”

“Brave words coming from the bruised bunch of ya, who am I to stomp on your spirits!” Ioder sais as he turned to face the horde of soldier stampeding beyond the rubble and into the city. He brought both his swords up to share the moment before wiping them violently to either side. He studied the enemy ranks, watching the bulk move past the eastern barricade and a number of thinner streams of men following behind. Though he had mastery over many arcane arts Ioder was never one for tactics, relying on others in most cases and executing their orders. But now it was his moment to lead, and he formulated a rudimentary strategy.

“As they begin to stagger we make our move, halt the forward movement of the supply lines, finish the work on the siege and see if that dirt dragon is still kicking about. If we even manage half of that then you will have all died with honor.” Ioder finished as he turned back to his men, determination in his eyes.

What happened next could only be described as a masterful display of complex spellcasting intertwined with ages of experience. Ioder from amidst a crimson glare vaulted over the rubble landing in the middle of brotherhood grunts slicing those closest to him asunder. His twin blades quickly made work of the surprisingly well equipt infantry, but who could really prepare for everything. As he slashed them down one by one dark ether leaked from his very soul hardening like plate mail over his skin. Finally, in an explosion of energy, he reared back his ancient dragon bone sword and with a mighty forward swipe let loose a volley of blades. Like ghosts, invisible swords flew from the tip of his masterwork weapon ending the lives of the enemies around him like a violent unblockable typhoon.

“Nows our chance, don't hold anything back!” he yelled as the others joined the fight. “Straight for the siege!”

[Hayate_Amatsukami]

This post is subject to change as i struggled immensly writting it, will probably edit some things but the idea and spirit of it will not change so procede writting.

For ages, Hayate had been a well-respected authority in Akashima, the head of a powerful merchant clan and league of assassins, yet today he had been reduced to this. A man standing by a cause he doesn’t believe in, guilty of atrocities he never foresaw himself doing, and nearly beyond redemption. In the eyes of the government, he was a traitor and rebel, a sworn sword of the Brotherhood an enemy of the state. He didn’t think much better of himself at this point but for some unearthly reason, none of that mattered. In this very moment with the world seemingly ending around him the young son of Akashima had only one desire. The past few years have been building up to this moment and despite how much he wanted to finish his mission it was drifting farther and farther from his first priority. Hayate saw himself in the eyes of the young orphans; it hadn’t been that long since he was in their shoes.

“Run along now, keep all your friends here and the mean guys outside won’t touch ya. You have my word. “The shinobi said as he caught a glimpse of a stranger approaching him from behind. “It looks like I have a friend to talk to.”

He introduced himself as a paladin working with the capital in a very similar fashion as he did. After a moment Hayate considered himself grateful that he hadn’t been found out as Brotherhood general. He had assumed that would have been relatively common knowledge and he was already working with borrowed time but it seemed that while the Imperials and Radasanthian guard were up to date the others weren’t. At least, for now, it meant he had a chance to breathe before he would have to finally decide how he wanted this whole thing to end.

“You’re here to protect the people, as am I, but do you really know what that means? Any moment now the Brotherhood is going to march their happy asses up the street and gut every last one of us. You know what it means to stand here; you know the risks as I do.” Hayate said as he walked past the paladin. His heavy metal army brushing the stranger as he did, an unintentional accident. “It not much but when the time comes we will have to lay down our lives to defend them because they cannot do it themselves. The star overhead was merely a single flare for them; they have no intention of halting until the entire assembly kneels to them. You understand we are just a stepping block before them.” The more he talked the more he felt sick over all the crap he had already done to help propagate this massacre.

He ushered for the paladin to follow him as he once again dawned his hood to hide while he pasted the guards. They didn’t pay him any mind anyway but it was more of a habit at this point. The steel keep was massive and well-fortified, but with the main forces were still a good ways out so the front gate wasn’t yet completely closed off. Maybe they didn’t expect them to get this far, or they had it open to help out the last citizen as they came seeking help. Either way, Hayate knew what he had to do, and what it would mean for him when the time came. Standing with his face turned up to gaze upon the crimson sky the Shinobi was ready. He didn’t know who or what would come his way first but the Brotherhood had to be stopped and held accountable.

The blood will stain their hands forever, his included, he thought as the Steel Keep closed behind him.