LitShark
Predator
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2002
- Posts
- 3,440
It began with a bang—an explosion from inside the city gates just after dawn that woke everyone in the mercantile district with a start. The drawbridge was down, in spite of the royal decree that the city was to remain locked down until the full scale of the looming threat could be exposed. This threat had a name, a name on the lips of every principality and small village surrounding the capital city—the infamous Warlord Klaus and his black army of The Glorious Dawn.
When the portcullis was breached, it became apparent that the malfunction with the drawbridge and the explosion from inside the city were both parts of an elaborate ambush strategy by Klaus and his horde. The threat of a siege was heavily on the minds of the royalty, and in preparation for an invasion had drawn most of its’ formidable elites into the high castle to strategize and prepare to fend off the coming threat—the threat had come sooner than expected.
It seemed that the parley between Klaus and the royals had been little more than theatrics, a stalling technique to keep hope for peace alive while his forces prepared for war. Now, on the first dawn after peace talks had failed the Glorious Dawn’s shock-troops were already inside the city walls.
*Clang*
*Clang*
*Clang*
“You’re slow!” the Gate Guardian taunted as she parried several of the Shock Troop’s best attacks, “our reinforcements will be here before you can even touch me with those clumsy swings—take this!”
*Clang*
The Gate Guardians, like most of the Royal Militia were female, trained in the Castle District’s esteemed Martial Academy—each knight who earned the honor of bearing the royal crest on her armor was highly disciplined and deadly. This Guardian showed it as she swiftly ducked under the Shock Troop’s slash and swept her curved blade upward to collide with the visor of the Shock Troop’s black helm. The strike knocked him backward a few steps and also knocked his helm off of his head, revealing him to be a young man, no older than 22. His comrades knew him as Armon, a distant nephew of Klaus himself.
“You may be fast, but you’re too weak to harm me,” Armon smirked, changing his grip on his sword, gripping the hilt with both hands, “this time, I’ll slash right through you.”
*Clang*
*Clang*
*Clang*
Armon unleashed a flurry of overhead slashes with all of his might, trying to hack through the guard of the skillful Guardian, who was forced backward by the impact of each blow, unsettling the dust underneath her armored boots. Just as she looked poised to respond with her own flurry of strikes, a towering presence appeared behind her and before she could even turn her head, the large man in uniquely imposing armor slipped a jagged blade between her breastplate and shoulder pauldron. The second man’s wrist arched as he turned the blade inside the Guardian’s chest and as she opened her mouth to cry out in agony, blood sprayed from her lips and the only sound that escaped was a wet gargle instead. When she turned her head, still reaching back with her swordarm to try and find an angle for a deathblow on her murderer, the mystery assailant’s longsword slid over her breastplate and cut deep below the visor of her helm, spilling her life’s blood across her polished steel armor in a sheet. She died before her knees hit the ground.
“You ought not to interfere, uncle,” Armon snarled, driven to rage by the other knight’s interference, “I had her in the next two passes. I needed no help from you.”
The tall assailant wrestled his blade from the lifeless corpse of the once formidable Guardian’s body, and then lifted his visor to reveal himself as the Warlord Klaus himself. The rest of the Shock Forces streamed into the city around him as the other Gate Guardians were quickly outnumbered and slain in much the same way.
“You forget yourself, nephew,” Klaus warned Armon sternly, “time is our primary advantage at this point and we’re rapidly running out of it. She wasn’t bluffing about reinforcements, more like her are coming, and once we meet the bulk of the defense force, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to test your metal. For now, practice that overhand swing with your hatchet and break down the rest of that portcullis. We need room for the siege machines to pass. Don’t rejoin the vanguard until you’ve sharpened your sword again.”
The siege continued onward, overwhelming the scant forces that had been left at their posts. There was a small force of militia troops who made a valiant mess of engaging the invaders, but they were no match for martial trained, fully-armored shock troops. The city wall had fallen and in no time archers were raining fire arrows into the city as primary infantry raided homes and shops alike, wresting any occupants into the street to be taken as captives. The looted and vacated homes and buildings were painted with the word “DAWN,” to distinguish the buildings that had been ransacked from those that had not.
On the steps of the community church, an ad hoc gallows was set up to execute peasants who were deemed to be worthless as captives. The first to hang was the pastor of the church himself. The noose was tightened around his neck and he was lifted off of his feet by several infantrymen on the other end of the rope. The pastor wasn’t given the benefit of a decent drop that would have broken his neck and given the mercy of a quick death—instead he was left to strangle while the city burned around him. He kicked and struggled against the rope, clawing at his throat and digging gashes into his chin as his struggles turned to death rattles and his eyes rolled back in his head. His hands fell to his sides last as he slipped into death.
By now, Klaus and his insurgency team had established a forward base in the courtyard of the church, within earshot of the castle walls. Other members of the clergy and city government were being fitted for nooses as Klaus called up toward the castle walls.
“Won’t you rejoin negotiations now, princess? You seemed so certain that you’d never consider my terms when we spoke yesterday, perhaps now you’ve had a change of heart. Another!” Klaus turned back to his men as he called for another, this time it was a nun who’s rope was pulled taught and tied off, she was kicking as Klaus continued his entreaty, “I’ve got no shortage of bodies to lay at your door, princess. My men came equipped for a siege, while you were caught in the middle of preparing for one. I’ll continue raping and slaughtering your subjects until you come out here and put a stop to it. Another!”
Before the nun was even finished with her death throes, an alter-boy of no more than sixteen joined her above the church steps, strangling to death and turning blue as Klaus’ infantry began setting campfires and setting up tents for a protracted siege.
When the portcullis was breached, it became apparent that the malfunction with the drawbridge and the explosion from inside the city were both parts of an elaborate ambush strategy by Klaus and his horde. The threat of a siege was heavily on the minds of the royalty, and in preparation for an invasion had drawn most of its’ formidable elites into the high castle to strategize and prepare to fend off the coming threat—the threat had come sooner than expected.
It seemed that the parley between Klaus and the royals had been little more than theatrics, a stalling technique to keep hope for peace alive while his forces prepared for war. Now, on the first dawn after peace talks had failed the Glorious Dawn’s shock-troops were already inside the city walls.
*Clang*
*Clang*
*Clang*
“You’re slow!” the Gate Guardian taunted as she parried several of the Shock Troop’s best attacks, “our reinforcements will be here before you can even touch me with those clumsy swings—take this!”
*Clang*
The Gate Guardians, like most of the Royal Militia were female, trained in the Castle District’s esteemed Martial Academy—each knight who earned the honor of bearing the royal crest on her armor was highly disciplined and deadly. This Guardian showed it as she swiftly ducked under the Shock Troop’s slash and swept her curved blade upward to collide with the visor of the Shock Troop’s black helm. The strike knocked him backward a few steps and also knocked his helm off of his head, revealing him to be a young man, no older than 22. His comrades knew him as Armon, a distant nephew of Klaus himself.
“You may be fast, but you’re too weak to harm me,” Armon smirked, changing his grip on his sword, gripping the hilt with both hands, “this time, I’ll slash right through you.”
*Clang*
*Clang*
*Clang*
Armon unleashed a flurry of overhead slashes with all of his might, trying to hack through the guard of the skillful Guardian, who was forced backward by the impact of each blow, unsettling the dust underneath her armored boots. Just as she looked poised to respond with her own flurry of strikes, a towering presence appeared behind her and before she could even turn her head, the large man in uniquely imposing armor slipped a jagged blade between her breastplate and shoulder pauldron. The second man’s wrist arched as he turned the blade inside the Guardian’s chest and as she opened her mouth to cry out in agony, blood sprayed from her lips and the only sound that escaped was a wet gargle instead. When she turned her head, still reaching back with her swordarm to try and find an angle for a deathblow on her murderer, the mystery assailant’s longsword slid over her breastplate and cut deep below the visor of her helm, spilling her life’s blood across her polished steel armor in a sheet. She died before her knees hit the ground.
“You ought not to interfere, uncle,” Armon snarled, driven to rage by the other knight’s interference, “I had her in the next two passes. I needed no help from you.”
The tall assailant wrestled his blade from the lifeless corpse of the once formidable Guardian’s body, and then lifted his visor to reveal himself as the Warlord Klaus himself. The rest of the Shock Forces streamed into the city around him as the other Gate Guardians were quickly outnumbered and slain in much the same way.
“You forget yourself, nephew,” Klaus warned Armon sternly, “time is our primary advantage at this point and we’re rapidly running out of it. She wasn’t bluffing about reinforcements, more like her are coming, and once we meet the bulk of the defense force, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to test your metal. For now, practice that overhand swing with your hatchet and break down the rest of that portcullis. We need room for the siege machines to pass. Don’t rejoin the vanguard until you’ve sharpened your sword again.”
The siege continued onward, overwhelming the scant forces that had been left at their posts. There was a small force of militia troops who made a valiant mess of engaging the invaders, but they were no match for martial trained, fully-armored shock troops. The city wall had fallen and in no time archers were raining fire arrows into the city as primary infantry raided homes and shops alike, wresting any occupants into the street to be taken as captives. The looted and vacated homes and buildings were painted with the word “DAWN,” to distinguish the buildings that had been ransacked from those that had not.
On the steps of the community church, an ad hoc gallows was set up to execute peasants who were deemed to be worthless as captives. The first to hang was the pastor of the church himself. The noose was tightened around his neck and he was lifted off of his feet by several infantrymen on the other end of the rope. The pastor wasn’t given the benefit of a decent drop that would have broken his neck and given the mercy of a quick death—instead he was left to strangle while the city burned around him. He kicked and struggled against the rope, clawing at his throat and digging gashes into his chin as his struggles turned to death rattles and his eyes rolled back in his head. His hands fell to his sides last as he slipped into death.
By now, Klaus and his insurgency team had established a forward base in the courtyard of the church, within earshot of the castle walls. Other members of the clergy and city government were being fitted for nooses as Klaus called up toward the castle walls.
“Won’t you rejoin negotiations now, princess? You seemed so certain that you’d never consider my terms when we spoke yesterday, perhaps now you’ve had a change of heart. Another!” Klaus turned back to his men as he called for another, this time it was a nun who’s rope was pulled taught and tied off, she was kicking as Klaus continued his entreaty, “I’ve got no shortage of bodies to lay at your door, princess. My men came equipped for a siege, while you were caught in the middle of preparing for one. I’ll continue raping and slaughtering your subjects until you come out here and put a stop to it. Another!”
Before the nun was even finished with her death throes, an alter-boy of no more than sixteen joined her above the church steps, strangling to death and turning blue as Klaus’ infantry began setting campfires and setting up tents for a protracted siege.