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.