Snippet #1500693

Gigundelarex roared in more fury than pain as the pale scales along his neck were torn open by Alistair's trident. The dragon moved with horrifying speed as it lashed out in an attempt to knock the harpy aside with force enough to break bones. Mind clouded by pain and rage, Gigundelarex launched from the tower back into the air to meet the oncoming swarm of flying golems. Having seen the demise of his kin however, the black dragon was ready for the storm. Within seconds the air above the wall became an indistinguishable blot of ebon wings, metal and sharpened edges. Blood and bits of shrapnel rained down on those combatants fighting below.

Some distance down the structure the final dragon, Jakanther loosed a hiss that sounded disturbingly close to human laughter. With a motion akin to a dog shaking water out of it's fur, the great beast shook itself free of the pinprick attacks the fleshlings were so keen on laying upon him. Jakanther was particularly intent on the pale one, who stared at him so intently...the dragon immediately recoiled in horror. It was an unfathomable fear that took root somewhere in the darkest recesses of his mind, one that the hatchling knew to be irrational but was completely unprepared for.

Within three seconds the fear had lost it's grip on Jakanther and he gathered himself for a wicked roar. Having lost touch with reality in that brief period of time however, an attack on three fronts had materialized. Steaming blood hissed down his neck onto Kisikoni, a heavy blow from Mikana's enchanted hammer upon his large ankle tripped up the reptilian and the axe of one battle-crazed orc--Ferka--biting deep into his foreleg. Jakanther jerked away from the ground, beating his wings once and buffeting the troops with a gale of pressurize air. Before gaining any true altitude, thick coils clamped down on the junction between the hatchling's wing and shoulder. Turning his head at an awkward angle Jakanther stared with one plate-sized eye into the grinning face of a crimson-haired lamia wrapped around the weakest part of his left wing.

Iriana laughed and began stabbing at the joint mercilessly, careful to avoid her own scaly hide. Jakanther slammed down onto the wall from his rearing position and snapped at the lamia while swiping at Kisikoni and Talae. The dragon's hate-filled gaze was reserved almost fully for the deep human and dark elf, and he lashed out with a barrage of lightning-quick slashes. Each and any would kill them with no more than half-contact.

On the first of two flights of stairs, the only way to get up onto the wall besides the much slower ladders, Thanaros zipped from foe to foe. The half-orc a sizeable chunk of the enemy reinforcements from reaching their allies with broad sweeps of his pole axe and did not seem the least bit tired while defending a ten-foot long entrance. On the other flight of stairs a a small, slowly moving barricade had been set up. Bodies littered the stone staircase, each holding a quarrel in it. Periodically one of the enemy soldiers would peek up from behind their protection and Sid would rack up another kill from her hidden sniper position. Down below in the streets Children of Fire roared out orders for more mobilization and a small platoon of more well trained Children began climbing the wall. Each had a mouthful of dragonfire waiting to be released.

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Ugh...that hurt bitch. Xeron's silibant voice invaded Neira's head once more, followed immediately by a mental crush. The attack was of a mastery the nightmarian herself could only have attained had she taken her psionics to heart, instead of as a suppliment to her physical ability. As a result she would feel a massive pressure in her skull that threatened to press her brain into a blood little ball if she did not resist well enough. The Silenced did not waste any time engaging their psychic battleground once more. Hehe...you're a fucked up little fly, aren't you?

A desert. Xeron, whole and without stitching and scars stood some three yards away from Neira in the mindscape. With obsidian skin, a shock of white hair and a flawless face the dark elf could have passed for the image of some deific being. He was donned in nothing but a red robe open in the front and smiling at Neira. In the mindscape, the nightmarian would feel twenty times heavier and five times slower. In the time it took to blink an eye the air around her was filled with a thousand red pricks of light. The psionic torture would induce pain that grew exponentially for each speck of energy she came in contact with. Xeron smiled. "Like moving through burning syrup, no?"

In the physical ream the red-clad Silenced was cloaked in invisibility once more and scaling the wall back up to Neira with his natural abilities. With Each step a scene within the battle of their minds played out, and the bitch's death grew that much closer. Without even the slightest indication of pain he finished snapping his head back into place.

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Over the lip of the canyon the first forces of the main army emerged from the Akaldai. It would be only a few more minutes before they were ready to attack, but the Black Guard was on the verge of being overwhelmed. Wrath was nowhere in sight.