Forgotten Realms:
Angels and Demons
Part XXIII
War, it had come. The Orcs marched under many banners, with a fallen Aasimar at their head. Forces of the enemy only known as, The Boss. They stretched across the landscape, with rows and rows to replace any fallen. A giant wave of attackers to wash away the city of Altamar. They surged forward screaming cries to Gruumsh, and nearly drowning out each other.
Those on the wall of Altamar felt fear grip them. For many, they thought of an Orcish tribe, or maybe a few bands of marauders coming together. What they faced was more than an army, but more like a tiny nation. A vast sea of bloodhungry beings came at them, and one could understand the terror that seized at their hearts.
The Orcs rolled across the grounds, behind them lumbered huge rolling towers. The rumbling of the ground beneath their feet was felt even behind the city walls. Ground was ripped apart, as the horde obliterated the land beneath them. What was once a living area of grass and fauna became upturned dirt, destroyed and dark brown.
"Don't stand there, fire!" barked Captain Reynolds. "Let loose the first volley, second volley stand ready!"
The defenders fired, a stream of arrows streaming through the air. Like angry bees they zipped to their targets and ripped into the Orcish Horde. A second volley followed, and only the birds of the sky flew truer than those arrows. Deadly missiles, they slammed into their targets, taking out more Orcs. They fell, only to be ground to paste by the horde.
More Orcs fell, but no matter how many, more still remained. Captain Reynolds understood how this could affect his people, but also knew that there was no other choice. They had to fight, they had to forget about their fear. There were many, many people relying on them. Fear was allowed by the civilians, but to the soldiers and guards, they had to master that emotion. They had to push on beyond terror, fight on even when they wanted to run away.
"Carry on archers," he called out. "Keep firing in volleys." To one of his lieutenants, "What is the status of the portcullis?"
"Still holding, sir," the woman answered. "We have our fighters in formation and ready."
"What about the irregulars?" the captain asked.
The lieutenant smiled, "They are at the position assigned to them by Master Kirann. He says a surprise is almost ready."
Captain Reynolds was caught between wanting to know what kind of surprise the monk was talking about and knowing he'd have to ask after all this was over. That is if the whatever the monk had up his sleeve, didn't become evident. Instead he told his lieutenant to keep him appraised of any changes to the situation.
His attention went back to the battle at hand. His archers were still firing volleys, and the Orcs had finally started using shields. Using those shields, they raised them up and interlocked them, making a tunnel. Ten Orcs ran up, carrying what looked like a felled tree, towards the tunnel.
Captain Reynolds called out, and the archers changed their targets. More Orcs with shields appeared to protect the ones carrying the battering ram. The captain kept his cool, but on the inside there were curses spouting continuously. Kirann had told them that the Orcs were had adopted tactics, but he hadn't wanted to believe it would be this complete.
Then several bright balls of fire screamed through the sky. With a great concussive force that even he felt, the fireballs slammed into the battering ram Orcs. Several porcine bodies were instantly turned to ash. Others flew back into the horde, nearly dead. They were completely dead, crushed beneath the weight of the horde.
"Now pour the Scalding!" Captain Reynolds called out. At once elated at the appearance of whoever had been throwing the fireballs.
During the last few days, the citizens of Alatamar had gathered any liquid that could be heated to a high temperature. They weren't using any of the potable water sources, but oil, and other unique sources had been collected. Then left in boiling cauldrons along the wall. Now loaded into smaller containers, they flipped those containers on the Orcs below. Scalding liquids fell and the enemy was caught.
While the Orcs at the wall were dying from the Scalding, the adventurers sent by Kirann fired another set of fireballs. Part of the horde turned to face them, just a small portion. That was when lightning flashed from the sky and struck several Orcs. More of the horde turned to face as entangling roots sprouted up. More lightning blasted through the sky, and more Orcs fell.
This time the shamans of the horde replied with their own magical powers. Ice spears lashed out towards where the fireballs had come from. They were rewarded with the sound of ice hitting metal. The small break off rushed forward, to find the fools attacking them. What they found was a grand army of Dwarves, Elves, Humans and Dragonborn facing them.
The Orcs rushed forward with their fine weapons, attacking, slashing and bludgeoning all in their sight. However, the army of their enemies never lost one being. In fact, one flabbergasted Orc saw his great axe fall through a lone human warrior. Even worse, more of the enemy appeared around him. He swung his axe again, this time a Dwarf in plate fell, but cried out an orcish cry. Why did the Dwarf cry out in orcish?
That question would never be answered, as everything around the Orc went instantly bright. He didn't feel the searing heat melt skin, gristle and muscle from his bones. He died too quickly to see the Orc beside him erupt in flames. The shamans with them were blasted away, and had no defense as the elements took them.
Captain Reynolds couldn't pay attention to the whole battlefield, but the sudden lightshow had caught his gaze. He saw the magic users throwing their powerful spells, but what really confused him was the Orcs. They had started to fight amongst themselves, slaughtering each other. The guard captain could only guess this was the work of the wizards and sorcerers, that had come to Altamar's aid.
More of the horde peeled off from the host to confront these attackers. That was when Altamar's naval ships unleashed their barrage. Cannons fired out deadly projectiles, that exploded. The small offshoot of the horde was obliterated, yet more Orcs came. Despite the shelling of the naval ships, the horde had more to spare.
The adventurers took that time to flee back into the wilderness. The naval ships would give them cover, and they would rest. The plan was to keep up the harassment, keeping the horde distracted. So far the first foray had gone well, but war had a tendency for the chaotic. All the success now could be for naught in the end, and many of those fighting now could end up in the ground.
For the next few hours the tides of battle continued on just like that, with the defenders pushing the invaders back. Those adventurers sent to harass the massive horde, kept up the hit and run tactics. Losses were minimal, and a small stirring of hope sprang up in each of their hearts. The Orcs even pulled back, with the Pied Piper watching from a distance.
Night began to fall, with the sun falling on the horizon. Its color changing from the vibrant, bright to a muted blood red. The invaders sprouted up fires, which illuminated the massive numbers of the horde camped outside of Altamar. As more and more fires flared to life, that little hope vanished. A sea of fire spread across the land, and caused trees nearby to ignite.
The defenders watched helplessly as a new sound came from the gathered forces of Orcs. A horrendous sound, one full of dread and malice surged forth. The oppressive nature of it blanketed the defenders, and drug their hearts towards suffocating darkness. Many fell to their knees, a sense of nausea overwhelmed some. Others felt an immediate need to run, fell from the coming evil.
Chanting from the Orcs strengthened as dark clouds rolled in and thunder rolled across everything. The non-caster Orcs howled and screamed their defiance. Dark lightning struck the ground, throwing dirt up into the air. From each strike bony hands burst from the ground, undead moths erupting from their earthly cocoons.
Skeletons and earthly elementals rose from the horde, making their way towards the walls of Altamar. In the skeletons' hands were weapons made from bone, sharpened into blades and spears. Their undead grins ever plastered on their skulls, with empty dark sockets for eyes. They shambled forward in a march of the damned, remembering the motions from previous lives. However, their shamble was off, like a creature that remembered marching, but couldn't any longer.
Their earth elementals walked as only a pile of boulders can, with massive stone hammers for fists. Their foot falls rumbled and shook the walls, their massive dark maws produced howls unnerving. Every third stepped the elementals crashed their hammer hands against, sending waves of ground towards the defenders. Behind them, more Orcish howls cheered the new additions on.
The cheers changed. Slow at first, but it started with one Orc, then passed to another, and then another. Silence fell over them, blanketing the horde in the absence of all sound, except of their thralls. Before them, a single light flared into existence. Small, almost a candle size, but it kept growing and growing till it lit up the area like a new sun. A tiny sun, but one that bathed the defenders and pushed back against the darkness.
The light sprouted wings, even as the Orcs watching turned their eyes away from the light. So bright to blind them, they couldn't see the man in the center of the glow. They heard his command, the same command that called out the waiting priests and wizards behind the city walls.
Divine magic spilled out amongst the encroaching undead and elementals. Most turned away in fear, others fell to dust. Those that managed to continue found themselves flung through the air as a fiery blast hit in their center. The elementals shook off the attack, as fire didn't really harm their rocky skin. Those skeletons not thrown, were obliterated.
About halfway to the walls, the elementals fell. Their connection to the ethereal plane snipped. Behind the walls, numerous wizards fell unconscious from the effort it took to break the connection. Around them the defenders cheered, echoing back to the invading army at their doorstep.
"Foolish, bring the rest in!" the Pied Piper called out.
The darkness returned, even as Kirann's light blasted out into the night. Flying fiends and gibbering imps materialized from hellish portals. Monsters of all sorts came from the wilds, a mishmash of scales and crocodile like skin. They rushed forward, at the city and the promise of serving their masters' wills. A dark tide rushing towards the rock that was Altamar, in this battle between Good and Evil.
They met hastily summoned creatures and monsters. Familiars reported back to their masters, directing the magical response. Rangers shot out arrows, while those trained as Arcane Archers spat out magic infused arrows. Light and explosions carried through the surrounding area, a testament to the struggle at hand. Druids shot out their nature spells, countering the best they could. The battle thus far was reliant on the ranged abilities and close up defenses of the city. Each knew the possibility of melee combat increased, if they couldn't hold the line.
Throughout the night the battle raged. Darkness and light pummeling against each other, neither taking the victory, but none the loss either. All the while, the lone figure of light remained. His flaming sun beams taking out monsters, just as the fireballs and lightning blasts of the wizards and sorcerers. As dawn came, the rising sun illuminated the battle wrought ground.
Beneath the illuminating vibrance of the sun, the full chaos of the nightly battle showed. Monsters and creatures littered the area between invader and defender. Arrows dotted the landscape, deadly flowers planted into the ground. Curling smoke and blackened craters marked the severe magical battle.
Altamar still stood. The people they were protecting were still safe, and fresh replacements replaced those who had been fighting the whole night. Meanwhile the Orcs reformed back up into attack formations. Day two of the siege was starting, and neither side was ready to fall. The Pied Piper watched as the Sunsoul Monk vanished behind the walls, and his blood boiled. This fight wasn't over yet.