Snippet #1580612

With a very unlady-like grunt, Mikana yanked her hammer from the ribs of the last guardsman within the interior wall. The elf had sustained a wound along her left arm and was limping slightly, but she still had energy enough to cast a sideways glance at Caine. Since her youth in the ranks of an Ashenwood elven community, she had been told of the barbarity of humans compared to the rest of the Civil races. Out of all of them, they were the most wild and unpredictable of them all, having the greatest capacity for kindness, cruelty and barbaric acts of depravity. Looking at Caine now, it was hard for the elf to think otherwise.

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, the paladin moved into a small alcove. Within the sectioned off area a four-pronged crank attached to a chain was drawn taught. Mikana began turning the wheel and a mechanical grinding could be heard outside...

---

"Troops, move in!" atop the wall, Sid activated her second voice-amplifier enchantment. The gate had been raised mere moments ago and the bulk of the army was finally moving in. Around one-hundred soldiers atop the wall were to maintain their current positions. The rest, were to make their way off of the wall and assist in taking the city. Those few enemies remaining topside were quickly being put down and already the troops were chatting about victory as if it was a part of battle that came naturally. Don't count your chickens before they hatch guys...

Surprisingly, the defensive circle of blackguard was the most heavily contested part of the wall remaining. A quartet of Children were using their superior speed and maneuverability to avoid the pulping fists of the constructs and had already immobilized two of the eight. The greatest of which, a hooded orc, even matched one of the golems in raw strength. With a loud growl the orcish child locked hands with the blackguard and forced it back a step before his companions melted it's heels, sending the construct toppling over the side of the wall.

Thoroughly shocked by the lost of such a mighty creation, Thanaros scarcely noticed the healing energy flowing into him. When the pain of his wound suddenly ceased, the half-orc turned and regarded Faera with an unreadable expression. At the end of it though, he nodded his thanks and smiled before pulling himself up and hefting a battle-axe from a fallen soldier. He was about to rejoin the battle when a familiar, bellowing laugh met his ears. Thanaros visibly paled at the sound. Slowly, he turned to regard the source of the laugh: The hulking orc child.

"Brother...been a while." Junte Hellstriker shrugged off his hood and flashed an all too wide grin at his half-brother. Thanaros was speechless, his weapon slack in his hand as his once-lost brother approached through the broken line of constructs. "Oh, what's the matter little Thana? Didn't expect to see your brother, one that you left for dead, so soon?"

The larger orc suddenly lashed out with a heavy mono-bladed axe in a sweep that would have readily cleaved the flat-footed Thanaros in half had another blade not clanged against it. Ferka now stood between her two brothers, blade locked with Junte's axe and hatred burning in her yellow eyes. With customary orc strength the female forced her brother back several steps and raised her bastard sword into a high guard, regarding the sibling she thought dead during their first battle as legionnaires. She noted his cultist robes and the fervor that made him so very similar to the other fanatics. Ferka spat in derision. "You are no brother to us."

His wits about him once more, Thanaros joined his sister in the charge to engage their traitor sibling. Just before moving though, he pointed out another situation that might require Faera's aid further down the wall.

"Dead-gods damn you deep human, what is it with you and getting hurt?" Pel almost smacked Kisikoni in frustration as she began administering a mixture of healing prayers and medicinal herbs to stave off infection. She was aided somewhat by the live-leather's ability to regenerate it's wearer's wounds to a degree, but the deep human was going to have a hard time not passing out or throwing up with that much skin missing from his frame. She looked to Talae, who had finished off the last of the enemies in the immediate area and called for her attention. The halfling pointed at a nearby trio of legionnaires who were crouched over a small area on the edge of the wall. "Go with them, you'll be more useful in the assault than fretting over him. That's my job anyways..."

The three men arose from their little project with a hurrah, which was echoed at several points along the wall of Herrick. Small rappel posts had been staked into the stone and were ready to begin deploying troops speedily down into the city proper to join the rest of the army.

---

"Fall back, fall back to Flourspar Street!" Asera ducked another crossbow-bolt and returned fire with her great-bow, pinning the offending legionnaire to the side of a building. She took grim satisfaction in the astonished expression that accompanied the elvish man's death rattle. There was little time to relish the small victory however, as more and more soldiers of the Legion were pressing into the streets of Herrick. The elf Child had been tasked to escort the civilians that had been helping to put out fires to the bunkers where they would be safe from artillery attack.

Asera bit her lip as she urged the score of city-goers on through the alleyways, pondering the fate of her senior Blessed at the Wall. She knew that to die in service of the dragons was the highest honor anyone could ask for, but still she felt a small pit of loss well up within her chest for her friends who were most likely dead or dying. Her thoughts were cut short by a hurled spear of ice that the Child only just barely managed to evade. Down at the lip of the alley a mage of the Legion and several warriors were filing in to pursue the fleeing townsfolk. Drawing up every ounce of her resolve, the junior Blessed moved in a blur, her arrows screaming down the confined space into the legionnaires.

What should have been a slaughter soon proved to be little more than a good laugh as the arrows clattered harmlessly to the ground off of an unseen arcane barrier. The mage resumed his inexorable advance and began chanting for another spell as his allies patiently marched behind him. Aser cursed loudly and began a swift retreat. Thankfully, the end of the alley was near and the last of her wards had made it through. She peddled backwards while maintaining a steady stream of suppressive fire to slow the mage's casting. Having succeeded in that endeavor, the very moment her foot touched down on the sidewalk Asera called upon the might of the Great One's for aid.

Please, please... the fire had never come to her before, and rarely ever came to those who had not undertaken the Rite, and honestly the elf only hoped to delay the legionnaires further with a bluff. She was as stunned as the enemy when a great stream of dragonfire flooded the alley and raged against the armor of the unprotected soldiers. All except the mage and one warrior(both of whom were badly wounded) lay still on the blackened cobbles. Asera looked on in shock and glee, and almost forgot that she was on a mission. With a self-satisfactory smile the elven child turned on her heel to resume her duties as a protector of Herrick.

A gauntleted hand clasped against her mouth and slammed Asera into the stone wall with such force that the elf thought her skull split. An orc sporting wicked ebon plate stared into her eyes as he drew a dagger from his belt. Past his cold visage, Asera bore witness to the legionnaire's slaying the last of the poorly armed townsfolk she had been so close to granting safe haven. Still, the young elf's last thoughts were not of her failure, but how she would soon embrace her new gods in eternity.

---

So, my little fairy has learned some new tricks? Xeron dusted himself off as he arose from his perch and regarded Neira fondly. The dark elf seemed to be considering something when he finally clapped his hands and stepped out onto open air, using mental energy to keep himself aloft. Alright. For each time you impress me during our exchange, I will allow you an answer to any question I can possibly answer. Of course, I will expect the same of you. Ready? Go!

Without any visible movement a mental construct of titanic proportions came into being just behind the airborne Xeron. It was scorpion-like humanoid, something straight out of a horror novel that radiated power enough that any psionically aware creature would be wary to even be near it. Xeron had energy enough to make it bend it's house-sized head closer and grin at Neira before reabsorbing the power for later use. Xeron tilted his head and appraised her with his single usable eye with a rightly arrogant light. What is your favorite color?