Forgotten Realms:
Angels and Demons
Part XXV
Altamar's harassing forces interjected themselves into the Orcish lines. This distracted the invading force, splitting off tiny portions to take on the harassing forces. Arrows flew through the air, but unlike the previous days, hit shields. During the night, the Orcs had been delivered crudely made, but usable shields. As a result, their casualties were reduced by a third.
The front of the Orc line was made up of two rows, each holding up the jagged, blackened new shields. On these shields were iron spikes, barely attached by primitive welding. These massive shields would have been more effective, if they had formed them up like scales on a snake. Instead the Orcs used them more for personal protection, explaining how some of their numbers fell to the defenders.
One particularly nasty looking Orc taunted the defenders with the most profane shouts. It didn't matter that they couldn't hear him over the din of the other Orcs. He still went about belittling those defenders behind their walls. He even stopped long enough to drop what passed for his trousers and shake his naked front at them. Laughing, he pulled up his pants before decapitating a nearby Orc. He wanted blood, he wanted flesh and he wanted those soft things behind the wall. What he planned on doing to them, would have made many commit suicide to avoid.
"Move your puss bollocks infested hides!" the nasty looking Orc screamed in their profane language. "I want my trophies. I hear this city has such soft beasties inside!"
More Orcs cheered at the nasty looking Orc's words. They rushed forward, laughing as arrows bounced off the front's shields. Behind them, magic users and Gruumush priests cast their spells, with at least one warlock calling down the powers of her patron. She raised her spear into the air, bone jewelry rattling as she did, and a specialized Eldritch Blast smote one of the defenders on the wall.
The poor victim was reduced to ash, gone in an instant. The other defenders nearly broke from their positions in fear. Luckily the captain had put veterans with each grouping, veterans that could take charge and reinvigorate morale. This veteran pulled his people back together, and kept them attacking the invaders marching up to the wall.
Meanwhile the tiny splinter sent after the harassers, which numbered about fifty, chased after the two group of adventurers. This was the repeat of the previous day, so the adventurers weren't too worried. They had kited a similar group yesterday for most of the day. They had been tired, but had kept the Orcs off balance. Their kill count was lower than the defenders, barely cracking two dozen. They had earned the ire of the Boss, though, and didn't realize he had a plan for them.
Running and fighting, the harassers almost didn't see the sign that was their imminent doom. A loud crash and flashing light threw several of the harassers to the ground. Those not thrown nearly lost bowel control as another group of fifty Orcs crest over a hill. They were caught between the two groups, with no place to retreat to.
Spears fell from the sky like deadly rain, these missiles piercing armor and shields. Two melee fighters were felled, but still lived. One wizard managed a protective shield around them, that stopped several spears. What it couldn't protect from were the charging Orcs, complete with weapons ready to end them. The harassers were in for a world of pain, caught between death and destruction.
One wizard stepped forward. A lone woman in practical robes, with blond hair and brown eyes. The human wizard quickly cast her spell, a massive ball of fire and force slammed into the oncoming Orcs. Invaders were blown into the air, others were reduced to ash, and the remaining Orcs stopped in their tracks. She didn't stop though.
Ever since she was a little girl, Emily had dreamed of discovering the secrets of the Weave. The source of a wizard's power, they pulled this energy out of the Weave to power their spells, producing wonders. Her parents had sacrificed much to find her a teacher, and eventually she was proficient enough to apply for a wizard college. Unfortunately, she needed money, and to get it, had joined an adventuring band.
She cast Magic Missile, followed by the grease spell. By this time, her melee companions had stepped up to give her time to cast. Even as Orcs fell flat on their faces, or dropped dead from the arcane attacks, her attention was casting another massive fireball spell. Emily could feel her strength waning, pulling too much magical energy at once. Yet, she couldn't stop, her new family needed her.
After joining with them, the group eventually became like a second family to her. It wasn't overnight, but over the days, that led to months, they had grown to depend on each other. They had faced many challenges, and overcome defeats, as well as challenges. She had been with them during heartbreaks, and even as they found love.
Her fireball launched from her hands, and Emily fell to one knee. Her mind slowed, and became foggy. She really needed to take a breath, rest, but the Orcs had reformed. More were gone, but her people were still outnumbered horribly. Instead, she chanted the spell that shot lightning through the gathered enemies. More of her strength left her, and a coppery taste flowed into her mouth. She was pushing herself harder than she knew was wise.
The priest was by her side, pulling her up. She gave him a pained smile, and a thought occurred to her. He wasn't bad looking, a thing she hadn't noticed before. Maybe it was because of his piety, but more because of how he teased her mercilessly about her arcane studies. She wondered now, if he had been doing that because it was his way of flirting with her.
Picking at her because he wasn't sure how to talk to her about his feelings. Growing up in a pious monastery, he wouldn't have been around much women if any. His formative years lacking in dealing with the uncomfortable feelings she brought out in him. Now, seeing his worried look for her, she understood. He had feelings for her, and they had wasted so much time in fighting.
Without thinking, she reached up and kissed him. He wrapped her in his arms, a plea to his deity still on his lips. Emily felt his warmth, and how he melded into her. So much time gone, when they could have been happy. His god didn't even have a thing against his priests marrying. If they survived, she was going to correct this mistake, immediately.
The moment ended too soon as the priest was struck by an arrow. He fell in pain, and she looked on in horror as blood seeped from his holy vestments. Worse was his cry of pain, he was normally more stoic when injured. She turned, knowing her talents lay less in healing than in restructuring the elements. Anger flared in her, the exhaustion fleeing from her boiling rage.
Acid was flung through the air, fire streamed at the incoming Orcs and lightning flashed from her fingertips. One lucky Orc got passed the others, and she smashed her staff against the head of the Orc. She fell, while Emily the Wizard cast a spell, giving her thee magical stones. Pitching these, they exploded against the Orcs, while she cast more.
Their situation was untenable though. Already two other adventurers had been felled. Their dead bodies were being trampled over by incoming attackers. It was only time before they were overrun. The defenders back at Altamar wouldn't be able to send a rescue force, as they were still fighting the main body. Their only hope would be the merchant ships that had been ferrying them. However, she couldn't say that any of the captains would be willing to risk their crews for such a rescue.
Emily readied another cast, feeling her exhaustion surpass the adrenaline in her system. That was when the booming explosion of a cannon surprised her. The projectile fired exploded amongst the Orcs, and she stole a look back. There, precious yards away were small dinghies. Behind them was the merchant ship that had delivered them.
"Come on ye scallywags, get in!" one of the sailors called in.
The merchant ship fired again, and the Orcs pulled back. Even with the new shields, they were no match for a cannonball. The adventurers took this time to retreat, running haphazardly back towards the waiting dinghies. Emily pulled at the priest, but their fighter easily threw the wounded man over his shoulder. They raced towards the waiting sailors.
An army would prepare for such a retreat. They would have fallen back in stages, with those holding shields covering the retreat. Those with bows and magic would have stopped at the water's edge and fired back into the invaders. This would have kept the invaders back, and protected those rushing up to meet them. An orderly retreat is what they would have practiced, but these weren't soldiers. These adventurers were heroes in their own right, but their training was in smaller group tactics.
The priest was tossed into the waiting dinghy, Emily jumped in right by him. The survivors managed to all pile into the waiting small boats. However, their enemies had raced forward very quickly. Now the Orcs were in range to use their spears and crude bows on the fleeing adventurers. Emily acted, knowing that her friends were still in danger.
Standing up, she threw a massive acid ball towards the Orcs. Despite the fact that she nearly passed out from the effort, she lasted long enough to see the effect. Many Orcs fell screaming to the ground, their skin and muscle slowly melting off their bones. She managed a smile, knowing that she had done all she could do. That was when the spear hit her in the center of the chest.
Emily fell, breaking the spear as she did. It had passed through her chest and out through her back. The blood covered stone tip snapped as she landed on it. The shaft was snapped, but this was by her party's fighter. She felt cold, and there was this warm liquid pouring around her. Over her, the priest was screaming. She didn't understand his words, but she felt lighter. It was almost as if she was standing outside of herself. Next came the warm, comforting light.
Kirann stepped out of the doorway leading to his mansion. The scene he came to was the same chaos he had left hours ago. Soldiers ran back and forth, resupplying those on the walls and relieving others. Behind him was Raven, and she looked rested. He smiled, glad she was there with him.
Something was off, and he had a sudden urge to dodge. Following it, he sidestepped, which prevented a fist from connecting to his face. There standing was a wounded priest, with several others running after him. The man looked between depression and unending rage, topped off with a broken shafted arrow sticking out of his shoulder.
"You killed her, you son of a.."the priest threw another punch, but found himself lying on his back.
Kirann had the flipped priest by the arm, and locked the arm. The priest wouldn't be getting up, but also wouldn't be harmed any further. The monk looked up, and stopped the priest's companions with a glare. Under him, the priest flailed, reopening his wounded shoulder.
"What is going on?" Kirann asked. "What happened?"
"You killed her!" the priest screamed again, but it was the fighter of his group that really answered.
The fighter explained, "We got ambushed by the Orcs. It was as if they were waiting on us. We lost our wizard, we lost Emily."
The priest screamed in pain, "You sent us out there. This is all your fault."
Kirann pulled the priest up, "I'm sorry for your loss."
"I don't want your apologies, I want her!" the priest yelled, before he broke down into tears.
"It's war, I know that doesn't help, but the monk didn't have anyway to know," the fighter said. "Emily went out saving us, don't mar her memory like this."
The priest fell to the ground, "To the Hells with you."
"No! I know she was special to you, she was special to all of us," the fighter explained. "She was my sister in arms, just as you're my brother." The fighter pulled the priest into a bearhug. "Her kindness was unexpected to someone like me. She treated me like a friend when I was used to people seeing me as a monster.
You listened to me and guided me, protecting my soul. Now you're in pain and I don't know how to help you. I want to make this better, I want her back too. Just tell me what to do, and I'll do anything. Attacking this monk though won't bring her back. You know this. This isn't how she would want us to be, not what she sacrificed herself for."
"Priest, let's get you healed," Kirann said. "I would like to hear more about your friend. Our companions are special and should always be remembered."
"No," the priest shook his head.
KIrann understood, "That's fine. When you need to talk, I am here to listen."
The fighter led the priest away. Raven watched Kirann, seeing the monk's face tighten. He blamed himself, because it was his plan. She could see him holding onto this, letting the weight bring him down. That was something that he didn't deserve. The plan was the best they had, and had been approved by Lord Wallace and Captain Reynolds.
"You know it's not your fault," she said.
Kirann shrugged, "Fault or not, someone was killed following my plan."
"I think it is a little more complicated," Raven said. "This whole mess is more convoluted then it should be. Powers greater than us are in play, and it's like we're all little pieces on some grand board game."
Kirann sighed, "I think we should check in with Captain Reynolds."
However, before he could move, Raven stopped him. "Look at me. You may save everyone that you meet, but you can't be responsible for all of humanity. You are just one man, a good man, but just one. Not alone, though. You have us.."
"I know," he gave her a brief smile. "Let's go and see what we can do to save more people."
"That's my monk," Raven said, before realizing what she had said. Freezing, she looked to see if he noticed, but he didn't give any indication. Letting out her breath, she followed him out.
The portcullis melted. A robed figure walked away, not needing to be nearby as the acid ate away at the defensive protection. The guards stationed near this entrance lay dead, their faces frozen in various incarnations of rage or fear. Beyond the portcullis the Orcs marched forward, following a glowing light beaconing on the arch of the portcullis. This was their way in, and the beginning of the end.