Chapter III,
Red streets.
Immediately after the guards passed, the massive city gates were closed. Being amongst the last it took a while for Peter and Andrew to slow down and come to a halt near barrels of water placed for the defenders. The water was well seen as guards took off their helmets and filling them with water poured it on their faces, washing the sweat, dust and blood of their faces.
Building up the battered guardsmen morale even more were tankards of strong dwarven ale, no food of course, but dwarfish ale had this special attribute that it gave a sensation of filling the stomach, without the fatal consequences of receiving a gut wound after eating.
The two young guards were happy to place their tired bulks against the walls drinking their beer and observing other guards taking positions, the priests healing the heavily wounded or shouting words of encouragement. What broke the joy of looking were the civilians. The young guards understood that one should be sad when your homes are burned, but these specific people were actually acting as if it was the guards fault. Presented by rude gestures and even angry curses of which the most mild was, "You bastards had to have a adventure.", the survivors of the stockade battle were first shocked, than angry. Andrew got an urge to spit on the crowd, Peter's fists were starting to itch. Fortunately a centurion shouted,
'Form up in ranks! Attention!'
The guards formed up and stiffened as the mayor came towards the walls flanked by his guard. The mayor gave a standard speech in which he praised the men's valor and combat prowess and of how proud he was of commanding such men. Than he added that though they had already given much they must be ready to give more, as the foes will not leave so easily. Finishing the speech he moved on. New orders came as the guard put on the removed pieces of armor and moved to replenish their supplies of arrows before taking positions on the walls.
- ''
The city was burning, Karol looked at the necessary vandalism with some sadness, his city was burning though with good cause; the flames formed an obstacle that the attackers could not cross, giving the cities forces time to regroup.
'How long will it burn?'
'Into the morning at least.'
An officer replied to the mayor's question, no sooner had the words left his mouth when a cold wind arrived from the north west. It howled over the battlements blinding men for a second. It passed, though the chill did not; the mayor and his officers looked around to see what had happened when one cried out,
'The lake!'
All eyes turned to the lake where the wind seemed to form a cyclone above it touching the water. After a couple of minutes it returned throwing torrents of water on the city. It passed almost immediately leaving drenched citizens behind.
'What the seth was that!?'
'Fething magic, what else could it be!
Two officers exchanged such opinions as they shook water of their composite armor.
'But for what fething purpose?'
'That.'
The fire that had begun to consume the new city was extinguished, only
smoke remained and empty streets quickly filling with the dark masses
of attackers.
'Sacred seth.'
These were the only words uttered.
''
'What do you think is going on?'
Sig scratched his chin for a second before replying,
'I think the guards got licked and fell back.'
Though for some this would have been obvious being in the middle of a throng of civilians it gets hard to see such things, or anything else for that matter. The two thieves found themselves stuck between a wagon filled with sacks and a number of cages in which squawking birds sat. Sig didn't know whether to be happy or mad with the situation they were in. The attack had caused enough chaos for the duo to escape the attention of the thieves guild who no doubt now had more pressing matters on their minds. Except Sig wasn't stupid and saw the very real danger that followed the attack. He was thinking the matter over when he saw something interesting; a purse belonging to a nearby person with his back towards the thieve. With one swift movement the purse changed owners. "Even during a siege one should think of business." thought Sig.
-
The city guard amassed on the walls, wet bow strings replaced with dry ones, and drew the strings to the ear as they awaited the attack, only it didn't come. The mass had stopped on the edge of the new city where there was a hundred meter empty zone. Though it appeared only a small part of the force that was assigned to keep an eye on the cities garrison, a large number of torches had been moving around the city for the last hour.
'What in the name of seven hells are they doing?'
Andrew asked no one in particular, though Peter heard it and replied,
'Fethed if I know.'
Further along the walls Karol and his staff observed the movement, and were likewise puzzled.
'What do you think they're doing?'
'Who knows, maybe some sort of ritual.'
'If so, it's like none I've ever seen.'- Karol stated as he peered through the darkness,- 'I believe they are...'
He couldn't go further as the mass surged towards the walls with a cry, the torches currently running around the city joined those heading towards the walls.
'Archers! Loose arrows!'
Karol shouted and air was filled with the hiss of arrows once more.
''
'Have you found it?'
'No my lord.'
The dark armored being sitting on a destrier seemed nothing more than a hairy bundle as his fur covered cape almost completely covered him. Despite his somewhat un-serious look, all the soldiers surrounding him kept a distance, and carried out every order given to them. The rider looked at the city walls and said nothing, the soldier that gave the report did not see the gaze and felt a shiver down his spine, what if he was mad at him? What if.... He was pulled out of his grim thoughts as the rider pointed at the walls and said two words,
'Kill them.'
The officer bowed and shut the face plate of his basinet before going to carry out his lord's instructions. The rider looked as his army rushed at the walls, he cared little for those that fell, what were the lives of men compared to his goal?
''
'Wait for my order!'
Arrows hissed through the air, dying men screamed in agony and despite that the order was heard over the sounds of battle. The attackers had reached the base of the moat and were filling it up. Already in some places they were bringing the ladders up and throwing them on the ramparts.
'Now!'
Teams of two guards lifted cauldrons and poured its contents down. Those hit screamed in agony, melted tar is not a pleasant thing to be covered in.
'Ignite!... Loose!'
Flaming arrows sailed downwards igniting the tar, burning figures ran screaming sowing panic in their ranks as men tried to push out of the way only to meet a solid mass of bodies. Despite the tactic the assailants pressed forward throwing siege ladders up and began forcing their way up. The gates of course became the main targets and as such the most archers were assigned to protect them. A death zone was established, as even shield walls turned out to be too weak to hold against the arrow storm falling down. However, the attackers found a way to counter this. A blast of light tore some archers off the tower flanking the main gate a moment before a second flash turned the draw bridge to cinders, The force attacking the city reminded the defenders that they possessed mages. Though magic proved little use against the gate itself, protective runes were stamped into the iron strengthening it. Apart from that clerics appeared on the walls bringing there god's grace on the defenders, doing their best to counter the magic used. Though now that a gate had been weakened the attackers pressed their advantage filling the moat, mostly with the bodies of the fallen, and brought up a ram and began to systematically pound at the gates. Peter and Andrew found themselves in one of the calmer areas of the wall, they rained arrows at the mass, suffering almost no casualties as the main fighting was waged near the gates. The state of semi-calm was soon ended. The decurion that had replaced the one fallen from the hands of the berserker walked along the wall gathering his men and leading them to a different theatre, the gate attacked with magic to be exact. Here they filled a gape in the walls. The arrows being shot here by the attackers were almost as intense as those shot by the defenders. From their position the two guards could hear the rhythmic thuds of the ram smashing the gate, on the inside spear and shield wielding guards were getting ready to meet the attackers once they broke through. The gate opened with a crack and the horde rushed in with a snarl. The spearmen were ready for them, with thrusts they impaled attackers on their spears, the second ranks thrusting their spears from behind the first rank to give those in front time to push the bodies off their shafts. The attackers found a way to battle this as well, berserkers came through the gate and paying no attention to the spears thrust into their bodies and threw guards aside with sweeps of their weapons, smashing armor and bones with equal ease. Another unit of guard was running to the gate, but judging from the speed the berserkers were dispatching off their opponents they would be too late to stop the horde from entering the city. The decurion also noticed this.
'Swords!'
'He is planning to do what I think he is?', asked Andrew as he drew his sword and his suspicion was soon proved right.
'Charge!'
Bellowing like mad twenty guards rushed from the walls against about a dozen berserkers, hardly favorable odds for the city guard. Blood stained the stones as the berserkers continued to cut down their opponents. Though they did begin to slow down as their rage passed, they were still dangerous. Peter failed to dodge a blow that sent him sprawling to the ground, fortunately it was the flat of the blade that hit the guard, though the blow was strong enough to daze him, blood filled his mouth and trickled from his nose, his teeth felt loose and he hardly saw the berserker raise its two handed sword to finish him off. His wits returned after a few moments and wondering why he wasn't dead he shook the stars away and looked around. "His" berserker was dead, a guard pulling his spear out of the barbarian's throat, and a group of spearmen had filled the gateway holding the attackers off. A cleric walked up to him,
'Are you wounded?'
Peter shook his head instead, as he was still somewhat dazed. The
armored cleric pulled the guard to his feet before saying,
'Than join the defenses and may Torm help you.'
''
The moon reached its zenith and yet its light was pale compared to that thrown by the flames rising from the base of the walls of Saltmain. Due to the obstacle, the attackers placed most of their attacks on the gates. Bearing in battering rams they pounded continuously, slowly yet steadily breaking them down. Where the gate had already been taken down a continues flow of humanoids pressed at the defenders. Arrows filled the air with a rain of death. The siege had turned into a war of attrition, both sides were trying to kill enough of the enemy to force a retreat. Here the attackers had an easier job as their numbers allowed them to soak up casualties, but the defenders had already used up most of their reserves. From his vantage point Karol Gryfline looked as another gate fell and the horde rushed in encountering a thin line of guard. He still saw himself somewhat lucky; the enemies magic users appeared to disappear and the flames at the base of the walls stopped scaling them.
'What reserves have we got?'
'Fifty city guards and your personal guard.'
The mayor didn't answer immediately, he stood on the tower of his home looking at the fight. Altogether he had a hundred men in reserve, but how many at the gates was anybody's guess.
'Send the city guard to that gate, dispatch four decurions of my guard to strengthen those fighting, one to each gate.'
The orders were received and sent, soon one could hear the thump of feet as the assigned soldiers rushed to their positions. A half hour passed when it happened, a messenger arrived with news that the men defending the Banker's gate were on the verge of breaking. The mayor slammed his visor down before turning to the others.
'Sirs, it is time to show that we are not only officers, but soldiers as well. To the gate!'
Silently they followed their leader to their destiny.
''
Peter barely stopped the attacker's blow, his whole arm went numb at the devastating strength of it. If he would have been alone, he would have been killed not being able to stop the next blow. Fortunately for him he wasn't. A guard slashed the opponent across the chest, above the front plate of the mirror armor worn by the now dying man. There was no time to thank him, as a spear was thrust punching through the mail covering the throat. Peter rewarded the spear wielder with a blow to the groin, sending him to the ground before dispatching him. How long had he been fighting; it seemed like eternity, though his reason claimed it was hours. Happy for a moment's respite he leaned against the wall breathing hard, wondering if these bastards would ever run out of men. And where in the seven hells was Andrew? No answer came to his questions, only a new wave of attackers that rammed into the guards like a storm, many sent to the ground by the force of the impact. Peter readied himself for the fight, though he wasn't ready for what actually came. Up to this moment the attackers came in a mob, relying on their numbers to break through, now they marched through the gate in disciplined ranks, shields forming a wall as they steadily closed in on the guard. Something else made this group stand out amongst the hoard. Every one of them had an identical symbol on their shields, a black hand. The same hand was presented on the a banner of red. Except for some of the clerics none knew what the symbol meant, yet all were afraid of it, those few that recognized the symbol more than any. With a roar the armored attackers launched themselves at those that had so far held up there numerous attacks. The first to die were two guards that stood in their spots, thrown to the ground by the charging host momentum and trampled under their iron shod boots. Decurions bellowed frantic orders, though none listened, they simply stood watching as the armored attackers hacked down any who were in their way. A sharp hiss was heard and bolts slammed into the first rank, a few falling presenting holes in the shield wall, another volley of bolts punched into these gaps bringing down more attackers. Peter looked back and immediately forgot the sense of doom that had overtaken him, as a group of the mayor's guard, retired mercenaries with at least a decade of combat experience dropped their crossbows and drawing swords ran to join the fray. A swirling melee followed, bones snapped under vicious slashes, the plate armor could withhold the damage, but the bones beneath could not. Foes appeared on the walls and the press in the gate grew too great even for the mayors guard, they broke ranks and began to fall back, and then ran. They didn't run far as more reinforcements arrived, the mayor and the rest of his guard.
'To the sides! To the sides!'
An order was shouted and they followed it, a volley of bolts tore into those going through the gate, and another, and another. The archers added their shots to the volley, forcing the attackers to advance cautiously under the protection of pavises and other large shields, yet advance they did.
'Defenders of Saltmain! Forward!'
Yelling like mad the mayor attacked, followed closely by his guard, other defenders joined the attack. The hoard broke ranks and charged forward, meeting the defenders head on under the statue of the cities founder. The mayor was a sight to see, no armor protected from the blows of his sword forged by elves in the distant past. Plates of steel parted as if it was leather; soon the mayor was covered in gore as no man nor humanoid could stand in his path. His guard fought just as hard trying to keep up with their paymaster, the citizen levy and city guard fighting harder than ever under their mayor's influence. For a few minutes it looked as if they could win, the attackers started to fall back. Through the gate a new man appeared, astride a destrier appearing to be a mass of fur- the leader of the hoard arrived. The attackers stopped falling back and stood their ground. The rider dismounted and cast aside his cloak, revealing massive plate armor. His head was covered in a great helm. He drew his sword, a massive blade with ancient runes beaten into it. He strode confidently to where the fighting was the fiercest, his armored servants stepping out of the way and keeping the defenders back. Karol Grifline suddenly found himself alone standing in front of the attackers leader, his men held off by the cities attackers. The mayor returned a salute received from his anonymous opponent and charged but his blow was blocked, his opponent hitting him with a fist sending the mayor back a few staggered steps. Karol lifted his shield to stop a blow and looked with fearful awe as his opponents blade slashed through the shield with ease. Another blow came, Karol blocking it with his sword, a light burst forth blinding many as the two ancient blades hit each other and then the light stopped, the mayor's sword fell to the ground, shattered to pieces. Apparently the magic in his opponent's sword was stronger than in his. He did not get any more time, an armored fist grasped him around his mail clad throat. Karol grabbed the hand with his left and tried to tear the fingers off his throat, he could have equally well tried to tear a star from the heavens. His right hand went for his dagger, he even laid his hand on the hilt when his eyes dimmed and he coughed huge quantities of blood, the sword of his opponent went cleanly through his chest plate and through his heart and lungs. Lifted high Karol tried to catch even a mouthful of air before he passed into darkness. His slayer stood holding the body high for all to see, before tossing the corpse into the defenders ranks. For a second nothing happened, and then the defenders broke ranks and ran for the final time in this battle.
'Kill them! Kill them all!'
The now victories leader of the attackers shouted, his men did not need to be told twice.
''
The streets ran red, stained with the life source of many. Many civilians that did not listen to orders and stayed in their own homes were soon dead. Those that did not die were running to the area were they were instructed to go before, blocking the streets and making it impossible for the city guard to regroup. Many people were crushed to death under the feet of others. Screams filled the air, buildings caught fire and the civilians in their panic saw enemies everywhere, which in fact was not far from the truth. The priests of Helm ran around the temple gathering artifacts, the enemy had entered the city. The last objects were hidden. Each of the all-seeing god's servants carried a bag filled with the most important artifacts and of course large quantities of money. They entered the streets, armored clerics pushing aside the residents of the city, they were trying to force their way out of the city, but in vain. With howls the attackers poured out of the alleys, attacking the priests and the civilians. The clerics put up a fight, but they were not soldiers, soon they lay dead, their treasures besides them and their killers went in search of new prey.
- ''
Sig was choking, in the mass of people he found it extremely hard to breath, also he couldn't move as he was carried by the mass. All he felt under his feet were bodies. All he could do was to try to force some space for himself and not getting separated from Anita, something that under the circumstances required inhuman strength from the both of them. Sig cursed his foul luck, a few days ago they came to a rich city planning to fix their financial situation and all of a sudden they were in a middle of a besieged city whose defenses have fallen. Proof of this soon appeared, as a band of the attackers appeared and proceeded to cut through the mass of civilians. Sig watched as the attackers came closer, at the swords rising and falling followed with trails of blood, at the screaming forms soon silenced. The mass around him grew thinner, thin enough for him to grasp the hilt of his dagger and he watched one specific bandit as he moved closer and more specifically at his sword hand. With one quick movement he grabbed his target's arm and pulling himself out of the crowd stabbed into his opponent's chest and drew the blade downwards widening the wound. The man fell with a surprised look on his face. Taking the short sword he blocked a blow and delivered his own, stabbing into the side of his foe's neck and pulling the blade towards him, tearing out the throat. He moved to dodge another blow, but slipped on the ever growing puddles of blood and hit his head on the street hard. He saw white, red and black before he regained his sight, he was very surprised to be still alive. He was more surprised when somebody began to lift him up and only relaxed slightly when he realized it was Anita. Once he was on his feet (though still supported) he looked around and saw why he was still alive. One of the attackers lay a few feet away with one of Anita's knives in his throat, the rest were being dispatched by armored men in the blue and white of Saltmain. For the first time in his life Sig was glad to see representatives of the law.
- ''
Peter followed his "unit" through the burning streets. Now that the city had fallen everybody was falling back to the late mayors home as ordered, only the civilians were blocking the way. So Peter along with five guards and seven members of the city levy moved through alleys fighting of smaller bands and running from big ones always heading towards the castle like building that belonged to the mayor. Entering one of the streets they heard screams clearer than before, a group of the attackers were currently slaughtering a throng of civilians. The members of the city guard being mostly residents of the towns and villages surrounding the city would have probably tried to move past but the city levy, being residents of the city fearing that their loved ones were amongst that group threw themselves at the attackers, the city guard willingly or not followed, Peter amongst them. At first they were unnoticed as the attackers were paying attention to one of the civilians that was putting up a fight, half of their number fell before they even noticed the soldiers at their backs. Soon they were dead. Peter breathed hard, he and the other guards stood for a second catching their breath. The city levy ran amongst the dead looking in fear of finding someone they knew. Peter looked at the two civilians that had participated in the fight, a girl almost completely lacking a feminine figure and a man with a canny look to him. Both dressed in black close fitting clothes and hoods, the only way for it to be more obvious what there profession was would be both of them having a sign labeled "Thieves" on their chests. Under normal circumstances Peter would have arrested them just to be safe, but these were not normal circumstances.
'Are you all right?'
The guard asked the male thief,
'I'm fine.'
Came the reply. Any further discussions were halted. One of the militia grasping the form of a woman, or maybe a girl it was hard to see as the body was practically unrecognizable, though it appeared recognizable enough for him. Despite the surrounding cacophony his cries seemed louder than any noises of the dying city.
'Shut up! You want every one of those bastards on us?'
Other militia moved and tried to calm their comrade in arms, without
much success. One of the guards stepped up to the man and delivered a heavy blow to the side of the head, which seemed to bring the man to his senses, instead of howling he began to mutter some prayers.
'Get him up, we have to reach the mayors place before...'
The decurion stopped as a single blast of a horn was heard,
'Feth it! Were too late!'
To make matters worse the noise of many iron shod boots were heard coming up the street. The decurion stopped swearing and shouted an order,
'Move!'
'Where to?'
The decurion stopped, where to? A calm voice gave a suggestion,
'To the lake.'
The guard previously being comforted stood up and tried to wipe the tears of his face and succeeded in covering it in blood before continuing.
'We can go to the lake, boats should be there.'
For a second nobody said anything, until the decurion decided, "To the lake" and the guards, militia and two thieves ran towards the lake, though Sig came last. He was still somewhat dazed and moved slower. His eyes were on the street as he tried not to fall over the bodies when something caught his interest, gold. Some had slipped out of a travelers bag lying next to an armored body. Sig scooped up the bag, jugging from the weight and shape of the bag their were other things in it besides coins. Deciding it would be better to sort out the contents latter he hurried up and caught up with his group.
''
The gate leading towards the courtyard of the mayors estate was closed and locked, the centurion reported this to the new leader of the garrison, the mayors wife. She nodded and gave an order,
'Get the survivors from the city to the catacombs.'
The order was swiftly carried out and soon woman, children and the surviving guards were moving through the mortal remains of the cities rulers to a point were the former wife of the mayor revealed a secret passage. Built by the cities founder near five hundred years ago it was meant as a way for the ruler to escape if the city should fall. It lead under the lake to the other side were a secret stable was kept, a perfect escape route should anyone wish to leave the city unseen. For the first time since the cities founding it was used.
''
This was definitely not Andrews day and he cursed every minute of it. He stood with a liberated shield waiting for the attackers to break down the temple door. He and about seventeen other guards and three clerics were the only ones fit for fighting amongst the numerous people who sought safety inside the temple of Torm. With a crack the doors were beaten down and the attackers poured in, met head on by the few guards. A short and brutal fight followed, Andrew cut the first attacker across the leather covered chest, blocked a blow with his shield and slashed upwards, splitting a hobgoblin from the groin upwards. A spear punched through his hauberk into his thigh. He struck back sending the spear wielding attacker back, blood spewing from his opened throat. Another blow sent his shield to the side, he couldn't bloke the next blow. An axe punched through his mail into his stomach. The force of the blow made him bend over, he barely saw the blow of the mace that sent him flying backwards. When he slammed into the floor he merely gazed at the ceiling with unseeing eyes and listened to the screams with unhearing ears.
''
'Have you found it?'
'No my lord, though we are still looking.'
'It might not be in the city.'
The hoards leader turned and glared at the one that had spoken. A thin, regular lined face along with almond shaped eyes and slightly pointed ears betrayed the elven blood in him, though his body build, height and the stubble proved him to be of mixed blood.
'You suggest that I made about the location?'
The half elf palled slightly but answered confidently,
'I meant to say that it might have been carried out, some people escaped across the lake, while the mayors residence was completely empty though shut from within.'
Silence fell as nobody dared speak, finally the armored leader barked
out,
'Ragnar!'
One of the barbarians, wearing the pelt of a snow wolf like a cape
snapped to attention,
'My Lord?'
Gather your riders, hunt down those that escaped. Do not dare show
yourself without the helmet.'
The barbarian bowed and left. The leader of the hoard looked around at
his officers.
'What are you waiting for? Search the city!'
They bowed and went to carry out their lords command, the half elf
amongst the first. None wished to risk Velgath's anger .
''
Once again a dictionary; Composite Armor: Mail armor with a small amount of plates usually covering the chest, lower arms and shins. Destrier: A horse specially bred for military purpose. Strong enough to easily carry a armored man, hardy enough to survive situations that would kill a Arab (the horse not the human, though maybe the human as well ;)) and though not a racehorse, quit fast. Mirror armor: Four metal plates forming decent protection for the chest, back and the sides. Often combined with a mail shirt. Popular in eastern civilizations.
Immediately after the guards passed, the massive city gates were closed. Being amongst the last it took a while for Peter and Andrew to slow down and come to a halt near barrels of water placed for the defenders. The water was well seen as guards took off their helmets and filling them with water poured it on their faces, washing the sweat, dust and blood of their faces.
Building up the battered guardsmen morale even more were tankards of strong dwarven ale, no food of course, but dwarfish ale had this special attribute that it gave a sensation of filling the stomach, without the fatal consequences of receiving a gut wound after eating.
The two young guards were happy to place their tired bulks against the walls drinking their beer and observing other guards taking positions, the priests healing the heavily wounded or shouting words of encouragement. What broke the joy of looking were the civilians. The young guards understood that one should be sad when your homes are burned, but these specific people were actually acting as if it was the guards fault. Presented by rude gestures and even angry curses of which the most mild was, "You bastards had to have a adventure.", the survivors of the stockade battle were first shocked, than angry. Andrew got an urge to spit on the crowd, Peter's fists were starting to itch. Fortunately a centurion shouted,
'Form up in ranks! Attention!'
The guards formed up and stiffened as the mayor came towards the walls flanked by his guard. The mayor gave a standard speech in which he praised the men's valor and combat prowess and of how proud he was of commanding such men. Than he added that though they had already given much they must be ready to give more, as the foes will not leave so easily. Finishing the speech he moved on. New orders came as the guard put on the removed pieces of armor and moved to replenish their supplies of arrows before taking positions on the walls.
- ''
The city was burning, Karol looked at the necessary vandalism with some sadness, his city was burning though with good cause; the flames formed an obstacle that the attackers could not cross, giving the cities forces time to regroup.
'How long will it burn?'
'Into the morning at least.'
An officer replied to the mayor's question, no sooner had the words left his mouth when a cold wind arrived from the north west. It howled over the battlements blinding men for a second. It passed, though the chill did not; the mayor and his officers looked around to see what had happened when one cried out,
'The lake!'
All eyes turned to the lake where the wind seemed to form a cyclone above it touching the water. After a couple of minutes it returned throwing torrents of water on the city. It passed almost immediately leaving drenched citizens behind.
'What the seth was that!?'
'Fething magic, what else could it be!
Two officers exchanged such opinions as they shook water of their composite armor.
'But for what fething purpose?'
'That.'
The fire that had begun to consume the new city was extinguished, only
smoke remained and empty streets quickly filling with the dark masses
of attackers.
'Sacred seth.'
These were the only words uttered.
''
'What do you think is going on?'
Sig scratched his chin for a second before replying,
'I think the guards got licked and fell back.'
Though for some this would have been obvious being in the middle of a throng of civilians it gets hard to see such things, or anything else for that matter. The two thieves found themselves stuck between a wagon filled with sacks and a number of cages in which squawking birds sat. Sig didn't know whether to be happy or mad with the situation they were in. The attack had caused enough chaos for the duo to escape the attention of the thieves guild who no doubt now had more pressing matters on their minds. Except Sig wasn't stupid and saw the very real danger that followed the attack. He was thinking the matter over when he saw something interesting; a purse belonging to a nearby person with his back towards the thieve. With one swift movement the purse changed owners. "Even during a siege one should think of business." thought Sig.
-
The city guard amassed on the walls, wet bow strings replaced with dry ones, and drew the strings to the ear as they awaited the attack, only it didn't come. The mass had stopped on the edge of the new city where there was a hundred meter empty zone. Though it appeared only a small part of the force that was assigned to keep an eye on the cities garrison, a large number of torches had been moving around the city for the last hour.
'What in the name of seven hells are they doing?'
Andrew asked no one in particular, though Peter heard it and replied,
'Fethed if I know.'
Further along the walls Karol and his staff observed the movement, and were likewise puzzled.
'What do you think they're doing?'
'Who knows, maybe some sort of ritual.'
'If so, it's like none I've ever seen.'- Karol stated as he peered through the darkness,- 'I believe they are...'
He couldn't go further as the mass surged towards the walls with a cry, the torches currently running around the city joined those heading towards the walls.
'Archers! Loose arrows!'
Karol shouted and air was filled with the hiss of arrows once more.
''
'Have you found it?'
'No my lord.'
The dark armored being sitting on a destrier seemed nothing more than a hairy bundle as his fur covered cape almost completely covered him. Despite his somewhat un-serious look, all the soldiers surrounding him kept a distance, and carried out every order given to them. The rider looked at the city walls and said nothing, the soldier that gave the report did not see the gaze and felt a shiver down his spine, what if he was mad at him? What if.... He was pulled out of his grim thoughts as the rider pointed at the walls and said two words,
'Kill them.'
The officer bowed and shut the face plate of his basinet before going to carry out his lord's instructions. The rider looked as his army rushed at the walls, he cared little for those that fell, what were the lives of men compared to his goal?
''
'Wait for my order!'
Arrows hissed through the air, dying men screamed in agony and despite that the order was heard over the sounds of battle. The attackers had reached the base of the moat and were filling it up. Already in some places they were bringing the ladders up and throwing them on the ramparts.
'Now!'
Teams of two guards lifted cauldrons and poured its contents down. Those hit screamed in agony, melted tar is not a pleasant thing to be covered in.
'Ignite!... Loose!'
Flaming arrows sailed downwards igniting the tar, burning figures ran screaming sowing panic in their ranks as men tried to push out of the way only to meet a solid mass of bodies. Despite the tactic the assailants pressed forward throwing siege ladders up and began forcing their way up. The gates of course became the main targets and as such the most archers were assigned to protect them. A death zone was established, as even shield walls turned out to be too weak to hold against the arrow storm falling down. However, the attackers found a way to counter this. A blast of light tore some archers off the tower flanking the main gate a moment before a second flash turned the draw bridge to cinders, The force attacking the city reminded the defenders that they possessed mages. Though magic proved little use against the gate itself, protective runes were stamped into the iron strengthening it. Apart from that clerics appeared on the walls bringing there god's grace on the defenders, doing their best to counter the magic used. Though now that a gate had been weakened the attackers pressed their advantage filling the moat, mostly with the bodies of the fallen, and brought up a ram and began to systematically pound at the gates. Peter and Andrew found themselves in one of the calmer areas of the wall, they rained arrows at the mass, suffering almost no casualties as the main fighting was waged near the gates. The state of semi-calm was soon ended. The decurion that had replaced the one fallen from the hands of the berserker walked along the wall gathering his men and leading them to a different theatre, the gate attacked with magic to be exact. Here they filled a gape in the walls. The arrows being shot here by the attackers were almost as intense as those shot by the defenders. From their position the two guards could hear the rhythmic thuds of the ram smashing the gate, on the inside spear and shield wielding guards were getting ready to meet the attackers once they broke through. The gate opened with a crack and the horde rushed in with a snarl. The spearmen were ready for them, with thrusts they impaled attackers on their spears, the second ranks thrusting their spears from behind the first rank to give those in front time to push the bodies off their shafts. The attackers found a way to battle this as well, berserkers came through the gate and paying no attention to the spears thrust into their bodies and threw guards aside with sweeps of their weapons, smashing armor and bones with equal ease. Another unit of guard was running to the gate, but judging from the speed the berserkers were dispatching off their opponents they would be too late to stop the horde from entering the city. The decurion also noticed this.
'Swords!'
'He is planning to do what I think he is?', asked Andrew as he drew his sword and his suspicion was soon proved right.
'Charge!'
Bellowing like mad twenty guards rushed from the walls against about a dozen berserkers, hardly favorable odds for the city guard. Blood stained the stones as the berserkers continued to cut down their opponents. Though they did begin to slow down as their rage passed, they were still dangerous. Peter failed to dodge a blow that sent him sprawling to the ground, fortunately it was the flat of the blade that hit the guard, though the blow was strong enough to daze him, blood filled his mouth and trickled from his nose, his teeth felt loose and he hardly saw the berserker raise its two handed sword to finish him off. His wits returned after a few moments and wondering why he wasn't dead he shook the stars away and looked around. "His" berserker was dead, a guard pulling his spear out of the barbarian's throat, and a group of spearmen had filled the gateway holding the attackers off. A cleric walked up to him,
'Are you wounded?'
Peter shook his head instead, as he was still somewhat dazed. The
armored cleric pulled the guard to his feet before saying,
'Than join the defenses and may Torm help you.'
''
The moon reached its zenith and yet its light was pale compared to that thrown by the flames rising from the base of the walls of Saltmain. Due to the obstacle, the attackers placed most of their attacks on the gates. Bearing in battering rams they pounded continuously, slowly yet steadily breaking them down. Where the gate had already been taken down a continues flow of humanoids pressed at the defenders. Arrows filled the air with a rain of death. The siege had turned into a war of attrition, both sides were trying to kill enough of the enemy to force a retreat. Here the attackers had an easier job as their numbers allowed them to soak up casualties, but the defenders had already used up most of their reserves. From his vantage point Karol Gryfline looked as another gate fell and the horde rushed in encountering a thin line of guard. He still saw himself somewhat lucky; the enemies magic users appeared to disappear and the flames at the base of the walls stopped scaling them.
'What reserves have we got?'
'Fifty city guards and your personal guard.'
The mayor didn't answer immediately, he stood on the tower of his home looking at the fight. Altogether he had a hundred men in reserve, but how many at the gates was anybody's guess.
'Send the city guard to that gate, dispatch four decurions of my guard to strengthen those fighting, one to each gate.'
The orders were received and sent, soon one could hear the thump of feet as the assigned soldiers rushed to their positions. A half hour passed when it happened, a messenger arrived with news that the men defending the Banker's gate were on the verge of breaking. The mayor slammed his visor down before turning to the others.
'Sirs, it is time to show that we are not only officers, but soldiers as well. To the gate!'
Silently they followed their leader to their destiny.
''
Peter barely stopped the attacker's blow, his whole arm went numb at the devastating strength of it. If he would have been alone, he would have been killed not being able to stop the next blow. Fortunately for him he wasn't. A guard slashed the opponent across the chest, above the front plate of the mirror armor worn by the now dying man. There was no time to thank him, as a spear was thrust punching through the mail covering the throat. Peter rewarded the spear wielder with a blow to the groin, sending him to the ground before dispatching him. How long had he been fighting; it seemed like eternity, though his reason claimed it was hours. Happy for a moment's respite he leaned against the wall breathing hard, wondering if these bastards would ever run out of men. And where in the seven hells was Andrew? No answer came to his questions, only a new wave of attackers that rammed into the guards like a storm, many sent to the ground by the force of the impact. Peter readied himself for the fight, though he wasn't ready for what actually came. Up to this moment the attackers came in a mob, relying on their numbers to break through, now they marched through the gate in disciplined ranks, shields forming a wall as they steadily closed in on the guard. Something else made this group stand out amongst the hoard. Every one of them had an identical symbol on their shields, a black hand. The same hand was presented on the a banner of red. Except for some of the clerics none knew what the symbol meant, yet all were afraid of it, those few that recognized the symbol more than any. With a roar the armored attackers launched themselves at those that had so far held up there numerous attacks. The first to die were two guards that stood in their spots, thrown to the ground by the charging host momentum and trampled under their iron shod boots. Decurions bellowed frantic orders, though none listened, they simply stood watching as the armored attackers hacked down any who were in their way. A sharp hiss was heard and bolts slammed into the first rank, a few falling presenting holes in the shield wall, another volley of bolts punched into these gaps bringing down more attackers. Peter looked back and immediately forgot the sense of doom that had overtaken him, as a group of the mayor's guard, retired mercenaries with at least a decade of combat experience dropped their crossbows and drawing swords ran to join the fray. A swirling melee followed, bones snapped under vicious slashes, the plate armor could withhold the damage, but the bones beneath could not. Foes appeared on the walls and the press in the gate grew too great even for the mayors guard, they broke ranks and began to fall back, and then ran. They didn't run far as more reinforcements arrived, the mayor and the rest of his guard.
'To the sides! To the sides!'
An order was shouted and they followed it, a volley of bolts tore into those going through the gate, and another, and another. The archers added their shots to the volley, forcing the attackers to advance cautiously under the protection of pavises and other large shields, yet advance they did.
'Defenders of Saltmain! Forward!'
Yelling like mad the mayor attacked, followed closely by his guard, other defenders joined the attack. The hoard broke ranks and charged forward, meeting the defenders head on under the statue of the cities founder. The mayor was a sight to see, no armor protected from the blows of his sword forged by elves in the distant past. Plates of steel parted as if it was leather; soon the mayor was covered in gore as no man nor humanoid could stand in his path. His guard fought just as hard trying to keep up with their paymaster, the citizen levy and city guard fighting harder than ever under their mayor's influence. For a few minutes it looked as if they could win, the attackers started to fall back. Through the gate a new man appeared, astride a destrier appearing to be a mass of fur- the leader of the hoard arrived. The attackers stopped falling back and stood their ground. The rider dismounted and cast aside his cloak, revealing massive plate armor. His head was covered in a great helm. He drew his sword, a massive blade with ancient runes beaten into it. He strode confidently to where the fighting was the fiercest, his armored servants stepping out of the way and keeping the defenders back. Karol Grifline suddenly found himself alone standing in front of the attackers leader, his men held off by the cities attackers. The mayor returned a salute received from his anonymous opponent and charged but his blow was blocked, his opponent hitting him with a fist sending the mayor back a few staggered steps. Karol lifted his shield to stop a blow and looked with fearful awe as his opponents blade slashed through the shield with ease. Another blow came, Karol blocking it with his sword, a light burst forth blinding many as the two ancient blades hit each other and then the light stopped, the mayor's sword fell to the ground, shattered to pieces. Apparently the magic in his opponent's sword was stronger than in his. He did not get any more time, an armored fist grasped him around his mail clad throat. Karol grabbed the hand with his left and tried to tear the fingers off his throat, he could have equally well tried to tear a star from the heavens. His right hand went for his dagger, he even laid his hand on the hilt when his eyes dimmed and he coughed huge quantities of blood, the sword of his opponent went cleanly through his chest plate and through his heart and lungs. Lifted high Karol tried to catch even a mouthful of air before he passed into darkness. His slayer stood holding the body high for all to see, before tossing the corpse into the defenders ranks. For a second nothing happened, and then the defenders broke ranks and ran for the final time in this battle.
'Kill them! Kill them all!'
The now victories leader of the attackers shouted, his men did not need to be told twice.
''
The streets ran red, stained with the life source of many. Many civilians that did not listen to orders and stayed in their own homes were soon dead. Those that did not die were running to the area were they were instructed to go before, blocking the streets and making it impossible for the city guard to regroup. Many people were crushed to death under the feet of others. Screams filled the air, buildings caught fire and the civilians in their panic saw enemies everywhere, which in fact was not far from the truth. The priests of Helm ran around the temple gathering artifacts, the enemy had entered the city. The last objects were hidden. Each of the all-seeing god's servants carried a bag filled with the most important artifacts and of course large quantities of money. They entered the streets, armored clerics pushing aside the residents of the city, they were trying to force their way out of the city, but in vain. With howls the attackers poured out of the alleys, attacking the priests and the civilians. The clerics put up a fight, but they were not soldiers, soon they lay dead, their treasures besides them and their killers went in search of new prey.
- ''
Sig was choking, in the mass of people he found it extremely hard to breath, also he couldn't move as he was carried by the mass. All he felt under his feet were bodies. All he could do was to try to force some space for himself and not getting separated from Anita, something that under the circumstances required inhuman strength from the both of them. Sig cursed his foul luck, a few days ago they came to a rich city planning to fix their financial situation and all of a sudden they were in a middle of a besieged city whose defenses have fallen. Proof of this soon appeared, as a band of the attackers appeared and proceeded to cut through the mass of civilians. Sig watched as the attackers came closer, at the swords rising and falling followed with trails of blood, at the screaming forms soon silenced. The mass around him grew thinner, thin enough for him to grasp the hilt of his dagger and he watched one specific bandit as he moved closer and more specifically at his sword hand. With one quick movement he grabbed his target's arm and pulling himself out of the crowd stabbed into his opponent's chest and drew the blade downwards widening the wound. The man fell with a surprised look on his face. Taking the short sword he blocked a blow and delivered his own, stabbing into the side of his foe's neck and pulling the blade towards him, tearing out the throat. He moved to dodge another blow, but slipped on the ever growing puddles of blood and hit his head on the street hard. He saw white, red and black before he regained his sight, he was very surprised to be still alive. He was more surprised when somebody began to lift him up and only relaxed slightly when he realized it was Anita. Once he was on his feet (though still supported) he looked around and saw why he was still alive. One of the attackers lay a few feet away with one of Anita's knives in his throat, the rest were being dispatched by armored men in the blue and white of Saltmain. For the first time in his life Sig was glad to see representatives of the law.
- ''
Peter followed his "unit" through the burning streets. Now that the city had fallen everybody was falling back to the late mayors home as ordered, only the civilians were blocking the way. So Peter along with five guards and seven members of the city levy moved through alleys fighting of smaller bands and running from big ones always heading towards the castle like building that belonged to the mayor. Entering one of the streets they heard screams clearer than before, a group of the attackers were currently slaughtering a throng of civilians. The members of the city guard being mostly residents of the towns and villages surrounding the city would have probably tried to move past but the city levy, being residents of the city fearing that their loved ones were amongst that group threw themselves at the attackers, the city guard willingly or not followed, Peter amongst them. At first they were unnoticed as the attackers were paying attention to one of the civilians that was putting up a fight, half of their number fell before they even noticed the soldiers at their backs. Soon they were dead. Peter breathed hard, he and the other guards stood for a second catching their breath. The city levy ran amongst the dead looking in fear of finding someone they knew. Peter looked at the two civilians that had participated in the fight, a girl almost completely lacking a feminine figure and a man with a canny look to him. Both dressed in black close fitting clothes and hoods, the only way for it to be more obvious what there profession was would be both of them having a sign labeled "Thieves" on their chests. Under normal circumstances Peter would have arrested them just to be safe, but these were not normal circumstances.
'Are you all right?'
The guard asked the male thief,
'I'm fine.'
Came the reply. Any further discussions were halted. One of the militia grasping the form of a woman, or maybe a girl it was hard to see as the body was practically unrecognizable, though it appeared recognizable enough for him. Despite the surrounding cacophony his cries seemed louder than any noises of the dying city.
'Shut up! You want every one of those bastards on us?'
Other militia moved and tried to calm their comrade in arms, without
much success. One of the guards stepped up to the man and delivered a heavy blow to the side of the head, which seemed to bring the man to his senses, instead of howling he began to mutter some prayers.
'Get him up, we have to reach the mayors place before...'
The decurion stopped as a single blast of a horn was heard,
'Feth it! Were too late!'
To make matters worse the noise of many iron shod boots were heard coming up the street. The decurion stopped swearing and shouted an order,
'Move!'
'Where to?'
The decurion stopped, where to? A calm voice gave a suggestion,
'To the lake.'
The guard previously being comforted stood up and tried to wipe the tears of his face and succeeded in covering it in blood before continuing.
'We can go to the lake, boats should be there.'
For a second nobody said anything, until the decurion decided, "To the lake" and the guards, militia and two thieves ran towards the lake, though Sig came last. He was still somewhat dazed and moved slower. His eyes were on the street as he tried not to fall over the bodies when something caught his interest, gold. Some had slipped out of a travelers bag lying next to an armored body. Sig scooped up the bag, jugging from the weight and shape of the bag their were other things in it besides coins. Deciding it would be better to sort out the contents latter he hurried up and caught up with his group.
''
The gate leading towards the courtyard of the mayors estate was closed and locked, the centurion reported this to the new leader of the garrison, the mayors wife. She nodded and gave an order,
'Get the survivors from the city to the catacombs.'
The order was swiftly carried out and soon woman, children and the surviving guards were moving through the mortal remains of the cities rulers to a point were the former wife of the mayor revealed a secret passage. Built by the cities founder near five hundred years ago it was meant as a way for the ruler to escape if the city should fall. It lead under the lake to the other side were a secret stable was kept, a perfect escape route should anyone wish to leave the city unseen. For the first time since the cities founding it was used.
''
This was definitely not Andrews day and he cursed every minute of it. He stood with a liberated shield waiting for the attackers to break down the temple door. He and about seventeen other guards and three clerics were the only ones fit for fighting amongst the numerous people who sought safety inside the temple of Torm. With a crack the doors were beaten down and the attackers poured in, met head on by the few guards. A short and brutal fight followed, Andrew cut the first attacker across the leather covered chest, blocked a blow with his shield and slashed upwards, splitting a hobgoblin from the groin upwards. A spear punched through his hauberk into his thigh. He struck back sending the spear wielding attacker back, blood spewing from his opened throat. Another blow sent his shield to the side, he couldn't bloke the next blow. An axe punched through his mail into his stomach. The force of the blow made him bend over, he barely saw the blow of the mace that sent him flying backwards. When he slammed into the floor he merely gazed at the ceiling with unseeing eyes and listened to the screams with unhearing ears.
''
'Have you found it?'
'No my lord, though we are still looking.'
'It might not be in the city.'
The hoards leader turned and glared at the one that had spoken. A thin, regular lined face along with almond shaped eyes and slightly pointed ears betrayed the elven blood in him, though his body build, height and the stubble proved him to be of mixed blood.
'You suggest that I made about the location?'
The half elf palled slightly but answered confidently,
'I meant to say that it might have been carried out, some people escaped across the lake, while the mayors residence was completely empty though shut from within.'
Silence fell as nobody dared speak, finally the armored leader barked
out,
'Ragnar!'
One of the barbarians, wearing the pelt of a snow wolf like a cape
snapped to attention,
'My Lord?'
Gather your riders, hunt down those that escaped. Do not dare show
yourself without the helmet.'
The barbarian bowed and left. The leader of the hoard looked around at
his officers.
'What are you waiting for? Search the city!'
They bowed and went to carry out their lords command, the half elf
amongst the first. None wished to risk Velgath's anger .
''
Once again a dictionary; Composite Armor: Mail armor with a small amount of plates usually covering the chest, lower arms and shins. Destrier: A horse specially bred for military purpose. Strong enough to easily carry a armored man, hardy enough to survive situations that would kill a Arab (the horse not the human, though maybe the human as well ;)) and though not a racehorse, quit fast. Mirror armor: Four metal plates forming decent protection for the chest, back and the sides. Often combined with a mail shirt. Popular in eastern civilizations.