Battle at Fort Pyre

[Alakon]

Outer Wall

Gabryn paced the wall restlessly, trying to order the confusion that cluttered his mind. In the past few days, the usually monotonous routine of life in the fort had been disrupted with his sudden promotion. News had come from the south of political turmoil, although the messenger had been poisoned by one of the many giant spiders roaming the forest and had been distressingly vague, the man died soon after.

The light from the torch bracketed in the tower threw the sharp lines of worry into relief, his face shadowed and his eyebrows drew together in a frown.
Political turmoil was really not unexpected to those in the barracks, the Alliance had been slowly fracturing in Lordaeron, conflicting demands and needs were taxing King Terenas badly. Rumours of orcs breaking out of internment camps, something about another plague spreading among the villages, it had been stretching the Alliance thin, almost to breaking point. But these weren’t issues that a simple soldier should concern himself with, Gabryn told himself, even if he was now a Captain.

He ruefully recalled the previous day when he had rushed into their home to break the good news to his wife, when in his excitement, knocked his younger daughter’s doll out of the window into the courtyard.
The ensuing hysteria of his daughter lasted until an accommodating soldier, his grin as big as his heart as Gabryn commented to his wife later, returned her ragged doll to her.

Of course his news was rather dampened in the wake of his daughter’s dramatic play, but his wife had shown the proper enthusiasm, until he brought up the subject of extended duty. He had tried to reason with her, it’s not as if he could have refused service, and now he could afford longer trips. He finally placated her with the promise of some time with the family and an obscenely expensive dress that she’d heard about from the other fashion starved ladies, though how he was going to afford it he didn’t know.
He sighed, this light-forsaken fort was no place for women or children, but the treaty with the elves dating back generations dictated that the humans must maintain an alert garrison in the pass to Quel’thalas, and there was no way that Gabryn could leave his family behind by themselves with no means of support, especially in these hard times.

Fort Pyre was constructed both as a testament of human-elven relations and to protect the elves peaceful existence from the inconvenience of any conquering armies. Of course this was during the time of the troll incursions, and the treaty was born of necessity.

It was a symbol of human-elven relations, and Gabryn could appreciate the politics of it, but he would rather appreciate it back home, sitting in front of a fire with his dog to keep him company. The fort itself was a feat of engineering marvels, and it had been crafted by many elven mages and even a few select human mages who were under the elves tutelage at the time, along with hundreds of labourers.
The fort was massive, it was built on a hill that according to various legends was the site of ancient cremations, and that the hill had risen from the fallen ashes of all who had been burned here, thus it was named Pyre. And fittingly, the Fort became known as Fort Pyre; there were three levels to the fort, it was constructed so that if the outer wall was breached, defending forces could retreat to higher ground, and the fort was cunningly built with massive stone corridors, as thick as walls that were level with each of the outer four towers, meaning that as soon as the wall was breached, those on the walls could move directly along the corridors to the next tier. The outer wall itself was the conventional four walls, in a square shape, facing north, east, west and south respectively, with the four towers, centred on each one.
The wall itself was a good fifteen meters thick, plenty of room for defending archers and footmen, although the archers understandably preferred to stay in the tower.

The second level was a circular wall with three towers built into it, overlooking the stone courtyards between the stone corridor walls. The third level was almost a castle in its own right, and it was built like a massive Tower, only unlike the others, it was flat at the top, with a number of large catapults, no one knew the purpose of these for they could not be adjusted in any way, and were they to fire they would strike within the fort walls, but the large white boulders were impossible to move so they were left.
Gabryn looked behind him at the forbidding array of towers and walls and sighed, in a place designed for war it was difficult to feel at ease at any time.
As a fort between kingdoms, and the sole barricade, both humans and elves manned the fort, although some resented it. Unlike most places though, the enforced mingling of the elves and humans had forged many unlikely friendships; but for some being within spitting distance of each other was intolerable. Most of these were recalled but some had escaped notice and caused no end of headache for the human fort commander.

There was a sudden commotion in the tower behind him as another cheat at dice was uncovered, this was not uncommon, but seldom welcomed.
Gabryn sighed and looked out at the land, under the pale light of the moon it felt as if he was on the oasis of rock in the middle of a bleak sea. Two vast walls of trees washed up on either side of the pass on tall hills that obscured the sea, and any pleasure Gabryn might derive from it.
The trees looked ghastly and pale under the moon, washed with the pale white of bone that bleached any warmth or friendliness from those greens as they stood sentinel, brooding and unyielding.

In the distance he could faintly make out a glow, on clear nights like these you could see the faerie lights of Dalaran, Gabryn frowned slightly, the lights seemed somehow slightly discoloured, must be fog he decided.
A faint tune carried to him on the breeze, and he smiled as he recognized the raucous bawling of old Murn, no doubt dancing a merry jig with a jug in one hand and a pretty lass in the other. It was in the commons that elves were truly appreciated, even the more surly ones became quite friendly, for elven music was pleasing to any ear.

He turned at the sound of a footstep behind him and he turned, intending to berate the soldier for breaking his ‘post’.
He closed his mouth instead as he recognized the figure all cloaked in blue.
“Tion” he greeted the elven mage warmly, “how’s the celebration!”
“Loud” the young man grimaced “and disconcerting”
“Cornered by Winphrey’s daughter were you?” Gabryn grinned knowingly. Winphrey was the human quartermaster of the north barracks.
“That girl has a determination like a harpy, and the brains to match”
“Don’t let Winphrey catch you speaking so, or you’ll be out herding sheep”
“At least they could give me more intelligent conversation”
“Well, she’s a sweet enough girl, maybe she’ll grow on you” Gabryn remarked, Tion snorted at the notion.
“So why did you come up?”
“Same as you I guess, fresh air, excellent view, and no people”
“Uh-huh, well unlike you sir, I have a duty on the wall tonight. Privileges of being Captain”
“Congratulations, I didn’t hear about that’ Tion said with a straight face’ unless that was what your wife shouting about so enthusiastically down the hall after you, I believe something about your duty in the kitchen? In fact, hang me if the whole corridor didn’t hear about it”
“I may take you up on that” Gabryn growled under his breath.
“Where were you going in such a hurry anyway?”
“Oh shut up” Gabryn said in response to the sly smirk, he felt his ears going red as he remember that particular argument. Using your promotion as a reason not to do the dishes is a very poor argument as his wife pointed out. Gabryn shivered slightly as the air chilled, he began to feel a little edgy.
“What’s that?” Tion broke through his thoughts, pointing out to the grassland below.
“What?” Gabryn peered intently but couldn’t see anything.
“Nothing I guess-“he broke off suddenly as something suddenly whispered past his ear.
“What the hell?” Tion gasped as a shriek pierced the chill night. Tion felt the chill embrace of fear, and ice lanced through his heart.

A black shape leapt up at Tion, seemingly out of thin air, with a startled oath Tion blasted it into oblivion with magefire.
Gabryn wasted no time, “Sound the alarm! We are under attack!” he shouted, as another shadow dislodged itself from the night.

Gabryn barely had time to bring his blade to meet it, distantly he heard the alarm go up and the fort scrambling into action, all merriment forgotten. Gabryn slashed out at his foe, there was a sickening crunch and a foul odour rose in his nostrils.
He went to turn away, sickened, but the thing moved unaffected; horrified, Gabryn stabbed and slashed at it blindly, unable to see what it was he was hitting only the shock of impact on his chilled bones told him that he was in fact hitting something. Soldiers burst out of the tower behind him with commendable quickness, swords leaving their sheaths with a steely hiss, and they quickly surrounded the beast, which had finally faltered at Gabryn’s feet.
A chance ray of moon light fell across it’s body and they drew back as it was revealed for what it truly was, it crouched like a beast, thick drool oozing from it’s lips, it’s beady eyes studied Gabryn in hatred, and hunger from underneath a filthy mat of thinning hair. Gaunt as a skeleton, oozing ichor from a mass of pulsing body wounds, it’s limbs bent oddly where bones had broken; it grinned, it’s terrible smile stretching up and down the throat, splitting its face.
With a choked cry he kicked the skittering abomination from the wall.

Suddenly there was more of them, black furtive shapes against even blacker night, slipping over the edge of the wall. Gabryn led his footmen in action, they fanned out cautiously to engage the enemy. Gabryn shouted some words of encouragement, but they were lost in the storm of battle, the furious bellowing and cursing as they struggled against a foe they could barely see.
The black shapes seemed to be every where, and they would strike out of no-where, a footman screamed as his head was suddenly torn from his shoulders, but by the time his comrades reacted, the shadow was gone.
Then light flared about them as Tion joined the fray, his hands glowing with incandescent power. The fiendish ghoul-like creatures suddenly became excited and leapt at the mage. Startled, he fended them off with a blast of ice, the ghouls fell senseless to the ground. Gabryn took advantage of this to dismember one, and fatally wound another, the footmen stared at the rolling bouncing head, but they were seasoned soldiers and quickly followed his example.
Throughout this, the ghouls remained eerily silent, which Gabryn found un-nerving, and still they came.

“Footmen! By me!” Gabryn bellowed, they obeyed instantly, forming up by Gabryn, hemmed in by more dark shapes creeping in. They darted in and out, trying to take down the footmen by surprise, but they kept their defence up. Each time Tion’s magic flared, their eyes would brighten with reflected greed, but they slunk guiltily around the edges, also wary of the mage’s power.

Gabryn shouted exultantly as his blade took one of them in the throat, and twisting his sword there was a snapping sound as the frail spine was crushed.
Grey, desiccated limbs and body parts littered the ground as they hacked the ghouls to pieces, and the ground grew thick with ichor, making it hard to keep good footing. In the midst of this savage melee, Gabryn glanced quickly at the other walls; they were also under attack, soldiers were swarming everywhere in an effort to combat this new menace. Gabryn saw with pride that the soldiers were taking position bravely and were holding back these strange spawn, but it was with grimness that he wondered briefly at the size of the enemy that they could so easily surround the fort.

Another ghoul out of nowhere snapped his attention back to where it belonged, and he slashed his blade along its ribs, it continued in it path seemingly unaffected but it crumpled in a loose bag of rotting bones immediately as it hit the ground and black blood drooled down it’s sides.
"Archers!" Gabryn heard the familiar bellow of his commander, even over the noise of battle, the rest of his commander’s words were lost to Gabryn but the wall was suddenly bright with the orange glow of torches, as they flared into life on the towers.
Arrows zinged through the ghouls as they struggled to gain the wall, and some were hurled from the stones. Archers picked their targets carefully, for there were friendly soldiers among the enemy creatures, the pressure slackened slightly off Gabryn and his men.

Gabryn was sick to see how his ranks were thinned in so short a time, every one of five men had been swallowed up in the initial storm, but courageously, his men held their ground.
The torchlight made it much easier to see, but as Gabryn pushed his men outwards to push the enemy off the wall, a movement by his foot caught his attention, he glanced down to see a gruesome head with one attached arm, groping for his ankles. His sword plunged down and split the grinning skull in twain.

Tion pushed out of the circle heedless of personal danger, his entire countenance grim, he raised his hands even as the ghouls saw him, the ghouls scrabbled for him, claws reaching out greedily, and withering away under an intense blast of flame. Tion’s eyes were alight, as he moved forth, sweeping the wall with fire, the one-time awkward mage apprentice now seemed a powerful mage in his own right, seemingly limitless in power. Even the footmen drew back from him slightly. The ghouls were picked up and tumbled with great gouts of flames burning at their flesh. Their rotted mouths opening in silent anguish as they were consumed. The ghoulish bodies fell off the wall to the ground below, fire streaming behind them, little meteors illuminating the night. Then the flame stopped and the blackened wall was bare, but Tion’s gaze was elsewhere, as were everyone else’s.
The glow of the fire illuminated the wall, revealing an entire army of the black things marching spider like up the walls.

And beyond on the plain, the ground seemed to ripple and undulate; a ball of light appeared in Tion’s hand and he cast it over the field. Gabryn choked back an oath as the light revealed a vast wave of Undead, far as the eye could see.
He could almost hear the collective gasp of the entire fort, he certainly heard his footmen. There was a scream, and Gabryn whipped around to see the east wall, clearly in his line of sight, being slowly overwhelmed, the black things were already spilling back onto his wall.
“Back into the towers!” Gabryn roared, and there was no need for a second cry, as the footmen all began withdrawing into the tower, under the cover of Tion’s magic.
As the door was slammed shut and barricaded Gabryn looked at his friend with discouragement showing clearly in his eyes.
“There’s no hope is there?” Tion whispered, his eyes on the sluggishly moving blackness that was the Undead army.
Gabryn clasped his shoulder “there is always hope” but his eyes betrayed him.

Gabryn moved away from the door, his sword hissing out of its sheath, there was a terrible shriek and groan as the reinforced door began to buckle under the onslaught, they could hear the mad scrabbling of claws and teeth rasping along the door as the Undead strove to gain entrance through sheer weight. Splinters of wood broke and flaked off, and the wooden door began to twist obscenely, pulling away to one side, arms came scrabbling and clawing though the narrow gap.
Tion positioned himself so his back was on the opposite side, but was facing the door squarely, preparing some arcane spell with the look of a desperate man, while Gabryn and three other men moved to flank him.

The bar splintered under a heavy crash, and they all braced themselves for the next crash to burst open the door. But it never came, they looked at each other with astonishment as the pounding ceased, scrabbling and hissing of claws scratching away and then fading into nothingness. There was no sound at all except for the eerie howl of wind, causing the door to creak slightly.

Gabryn heard a frightened shout from above in the tower “Captain, they’re… they’re retreating!” Gabryn frowned, and motioned the others behind him. Warily, he pulled away the remainders of the bar, and eased the shattered door open; he leapt back as the blustery wind threw the door aside, sweeping into the room with icy fingers clutching at them, sending violent shivers down his spine.
An eerie feeling touched him as he moved out onto the wall, and as he looked around it was confirmed, the wall was completely devoid of any hint there ever was a battle, no dead ghouls or men, not even a splash of blood of ichor to be seen. It was as if the wind had swept away all vestiges of battle and death. And it chilled Gabryn’s blood.

[Alakon]

There was a raucous cheer taken up by the men as they came out, and it was echoed throughout the Keep but it was half-hearted and it soon stopped, as everyone went to peer over the edge of the walls, not understanding what had happened.
“Ho, Gabryn!” came a hearty boom “we beat the cringing dogs back, cowardly beasts!” Grimh, Second Captain proclaimed confidently, but his pale face belied his words.

Another soldier came up to Gabryn, a confused expression across his face “Do you think we scared them off sir?” he asked hopefully.
“I doubt it’ Gabryn said cheerlessly ‘but we can pray. Spread the word to expect another-“he broke off as his sharp ears caught a distant peculiar clunk, and a faint whistle, growing louder by the second.

They looked up and saw an ominous shadow falling towards them, something strange about it’s shape, almost looks- any further thoughts of Gabryn were halted as he had to dash aside to avoid it. It landed with a wet thud on the wall, and a gagging stench emanated from it. It was a greatly daring soldier that approached it, holding his nose, and his guts.

“By the light, it’s Jarlak!” with a convulsive jerk the pale faced soldier pushed the defiled corpse over the edge.
“Those foul demons!” Grimh growled “will their evilness never cease!?” he said hefting his battle-axe threateningly, his red beard bristling with anger.
Gabryn felt a grim resolve come to him, and he knew that he was locked in a battle that went beyond the boundaries of human war, beyond the imagination in the violence between men and men; this was a fight between the shadow and the light. And there could be no surrender, no pleas, no mercy.

The sky was suddenly seemed full of dead bodies, and those soldiers who had bravely defending the fort were plagued by the sight of dead friends, and a few were smashed screaming over the wall by impacts, and they were assailed by something no mortal could defend again, fear.
Gabryn himself was almost thrown off the wall despite his fir stance, by a heavy body striking his shoulder, but he was saved by Grimh’s quick reflexes.
“My thanks” he breathed gratefully.
As the bodies fell, somehow, in some evil twisted fashion, were already rotting and black, Gabryn sensed a change in the scheme of things. A quiet outside his circle of shouts and groans seemed to have spread all around the fort, barricading it in an impenetrable black wall of silence, more effective than any siege.

There was a lull of falling monstrosities as a new sound became apparent. A voice.
A vast rolling thunder built out on the plain, it’s coming apparent in the tremble of the ground, an apt description of the men’s morale.
“Kinsmen!” the voice declared powerfully, and Gabryn knew instinctively that this voice was being heard by every soul within the fort.
“My kinsmen!” the voice repeated “today is a sorrowful day; for you are the unfortunate souls to have been tricked into serving a cause not your own!”
Suddenly something seemed to illuminate on the plain, and a figure could somehow be clearly seen, by the same dark arts that thundered the fiend’s merest whisper. The figure was powerful, tall and straight; and shockingly, it was human! It bore itself with an instinctive arrogance, and blond hair shook as he turned, revealing a cold breath of light at his right hip.
“It can’t be…?” Grimh growled incredulously, and simultaneously Gabryn was hit with a wave of chill recognition. It was Arthas! By somehow changed since when Gabryn had seen the Prince as a lad; what a hero he had seemed, a glamorous icon to all youngsters, the promise of a great ruler. And now…

“But all is not lost! For I, your Prince, can save you. Stand aside now, and allow those elves who you thought your allies be duly punished for their crimes!” There was a strange magic behind his words, Gabryn could feel it, the words insinuating themselves into his mind, obvious lies made into truths. Gabryn could see it sweep over his men like a wave, even Grimh seemed to have discarded all of his usual belligerence, and listening attentively.

“And what crime have we committed so foul, fair prince? That you would shackle yourselves with these cursed beasts from beyond the grave to destroy us” an elven warrior stepped forward, he was familiar to Gabryn, he was Alhael, cousin to the Elven King, and every bit as proud in his bearing as Arthas. Although Alhael’s firm voice could not possibly have reached down to the plain, Gabryn knew that by the same arts, were Alhael’s words heard by the Prince.
“It by your treachery that I am forced with these creatures! Do not hide your vicious lies behind reasonable words to subvert my countrymen and kin! They will not stand for any more of your insults elf!”

To Gabryn’s horrifying disgust, despite his every determination, Arthas’ words, groundless and obviously false, stirred a deep hatred within him. A very ugly air was forming among his men, human soldiers started edging away from elven, or pushing in belligerently with accusing stares.
“Tell me, Prince. How fairs your father?”
The figure on the plain seemed to twist angrily, “better than you and your kind elf, if you do not surrender and step aside now!”
“Even in the tranquil lands of Quel’thalas has word of your treachery spread!’
You have slain your father, a just king who ruled his people as wisely and well as he was able; and now you seek to do likewise to us, by spreading your treachery among good and honest men!” Alhael rose his sword into the air “Well, come and claim my life, Prince, if you can!” he roared defiantly.

And just like that, the spell was broken; and the Prince that the humans had once served was now their mortal enemy, and the elves, who had also known nothing of the human Prince’s dark betrayal, looked upon him with loathing mixed with a terrible apprehension.

“So be it” came the Prince’s fell whisper, and he disappeared in the newly urged army, surging forth, until even they were indiscernible in the abyssal dark.
When they came they came thick and fast, Tion blasted the first black fiend clear off the wall with a dazzling bolt of lightning, the glowing smoking corpse drifted away into the blackness, and charred flesh was added to the smell of decay and death. Almost before anyone had time to think the wall was full of them, clambering over each other in their eagerness, and no longer were they silent, it seemed the night itself was full of staggered breathing and sick hissing gurgles and growls; they swarmed over the wall in a wave of scrabbling and hissing, apparently frenzied by the smell of death. At least a dozen footmen fell beneath the struggling mass, stumbling over dead bodies or simply forced under by sheer weight; but the beasts seemed far more interested in the dead than the living, so some few managed to crawl back out ,wondering at their fortune, but the unlucky ones who couldn’t get out of the way in time were torn apart.

Shocked into action, the footmen staggered into a tight knot around the three men, Gabryn, Grimh and Tion, moving sluggishly in front of the tower door to block access to it, as there was no one to block it from within, even if they could somehow hold the destroyed door.

Fiery arrows whooshed from above, desperately trying to thin the enemy’s numbers, and perhaps panic them into retreat, but for every one that burst into flame, three more would claw their way through, and the ghouls didn’t even heed the dead. But the arrows were creating gaps, for no ghoul would go near flame, however brief it lasted, for their skin would burst into flame instantly.

Gabryn grunted as they held off the Undead with their backs virtually to the door, he kept them and bay with lethal strikes and lunges, swift and sure as a viper, and Grimh seemed to determined to beat them into complete submission with his powerful axe, smashing skulls and bodies with a thick crack into the ground, but even he displayed skill and cunning, with accurate swings, so that no footman was endangered by his aggressiveness.

Tion was drenched in sweat, as he tossed fireballs and all manner of spells into the fray, and blasting down enemies who battered footmen apart for an instant to get at him, until the footmen could stagger back together again.
The wall itself seemed to groan as there were a series of sharp detonations in the air that seemed to go off inside their skulls, as Tion cast thunderclaps to disorient the enemy.

Grimh, tired of his defensive slashing, pushed ahead of the circle, engaging the Undead with a shocking rage. His battle axe cleaving and crushing he was undaunted in a furious tide surging against and around him, his powerful frame heaved with his mighty efforts.

Gabryn realised that the pressure was letting off them as the Undead recognized Grimh for the greatest threat and threw themselves against him, trying to break him, but they could not get past his axe, two or three ghouls leapt from all sides, and were unfailingly struck by Grimh’s axe. Crawling, struggling or leaping, Grimh was tireless in the face of this terrifying, strange enemy, encouraged by Grimh’s fortitude, the other soldiers rallied and fought their way to his side, spreading out, pushing the Undead back on all fronts away from the door.

Gabryn was now free to look around and he saw to his left, two men were backed up against the wall, stranded in the middle of the Undead.
They were fighting with the desperation of doomed men, ghouls lay dying or dead at their feet, but more pressed in, and sure death was scant inches away for those two men.
“Tion!” Gabryn said urgently, his voice carrying above the noises of battle, Tion saw and gave him a short nod. Ever since the conflict began a strange calm seemed possessed in the fledgling mage, and he seemed to command reserves of power that even the elven warriors around him, who took magic as a way of life, seemed a little awed. Gabryn was worried for his friend.
Tion seemed to brace himself, as if preparing for a mighty struggle, his back rigid and apart, and a glazed look in his eyes, Gabryn could not pause to contemplate this because a startled cry alerted him that the Undead were pushing them back, Grimh’s valiant efforts could not continue indefinitely and the ghouls were held back only by virtue of sheer muscle and steel armour. Still, blood flowed freely down soldier’s arms, legs and necks, where horrid claws had scrabbled.

The air seemed to grow chill, a chill beyond the already paranormal cold of the night, this chill was something baser, more elemental, then, just as suddenly, the cold blossomed into stifling searing heat, and the soldier’s seemed to wilt, except for Alhael, who had remained close by Gabryn’s side, he seemed to be looking at Tion expectantly. Gabryn looked painfully at Tion, Tion seemed hunched over in what seemed to be a colossal effort for one already spent.
Gabryn slashed a gaping hole in the ribs of another ghoul, revealing blackened bones and half destroyed organs, black ichor splattered across his face and arm, but he had long gotten used to that.

Tion cried out, and the air grew even hotter, it was all they could do to defend themselves, Gabryn wondered if maybe Tion was trying to burn them out with air alone, an impossible task, even for an elven mage from what he knew.
He looked in stunned wonder as crystals formed on Tion’s outstretched hands, and a cold steam wafted from them.
For once, the ghouls actually faltered, although they appeared unaffected by the heat, the two footmen took advantage of the lull to slay a couple more, unable to see what it was that had made the ghouls wary.

A shriek ripped from Tion’s throat, suddenly, shockingly; and his face was terrible to behold, his head seemed to sage lifelessly to one side, and his eyes were solid whites. He raised his frosted hands to the heavens, lightning glanced through the air to strike his palms, in quick succession they came, blue white streaks flashing into a growing orb of gold and white suspended on his palms as he combined the elements of fire and ice.
Then he body seemed to arc with spine breaking intensity as he lowered his hands again. As if sensing imminent doom, the Undead struggled to reach the mage, not in eagerness but in desperation.
A blistering sheet of ice and lightning ripped through the ghoul’s, flashes of lightning revealing one final agonized look, as they were consumed by a fire so intense that even in their state of immortal pain they felt it.
Shards of ice tore through rotted flesh and decayed bones, and the wall was suddenly littered with bits and pieces of twitching ghouls.
Tion lowered his violently trembling hands to his sides, and promptly collapsed, completely spent from his raw display of power.
Gabryn caught him and gave him to another soldier, “Take him inside, see if you can help him” the young soldier swallowed convulsively and nodded, Gabryn could see the mixture of fear and relief beneath the helm as he looked at the mage.
“Good man”

He clasped Grihm briefly on the shoulder before they plunged forward into the surviving ghouls at the magic’s edges, scattered like leaves before a storm.
The ghouls were quickly cut down, and Gabryn grabbed one of stranded soldiers by the arm, “Quickly now, brother”, and hastened the stunned footmen along, already the wall edge was being encroached on by black shapes, but they moved strangely cautiously.

“Captain, look!” the newly rescued soldier cried, pointing to the east wall. The guards had fallen, without the benefit of magic, and the undead massed over the wall, swarming up into the towers, down the wall like a swarm of black insects, casting a deadly shadow over whatever they touched.

“Alright. Soldiers fall back to the second level, fall back!”
“Are you mad?!” Grimh hissed, “we have regained the wall, we cannot lose this wall!”
“The wall is already lost Grimh! And the battle is no longer out here, it’s in there” Gabryn said pointing to the courtyard far away below them, where men had hastily armed themselves had charged out to meet the enemy, but their undisciplined defence was quickly falling under superior numbers and savagery. When the elven architects and magi had designed the place, they built it to be as costly to the enemy as possible with minimum loss to defending troops, and in that they succeeded. However, the designers had never anticipated an enemy that could climb walls.
“It is but mortar and stone, our soldiers are of flesh and blood, which are being torn and spilt every second we hesitate”
“Fall back!” he shouted at soldiers slow to retreat. Grimh turned away angrily, obviously unconvinced, but unwilling to degrade the men’s morale any more by disputing it further.

The soldiers had used the brief respite to form up in front of the door, while the rest moved through; they had become experienced men simply from surviving the battle so far, that they didn’t even need Gabryn’s command to do so.
Already the Undead were overcoming their initial timidity, satisfied that no more ice or fire would be hurled against them.
He heard a brassy horn, as someone finally located it, and the commander had also seen it was time to fall back to a more defensible position.
They all slipped in to the tower two at a time under the cover of arrows as the Undead grew ever more bolder.

Finally two elven swordsmen, clad in the armour and tabard of the Elven Guard, the more elite of all the Fort’s troops, held the shattered door as Gabryn backed through, just as they were trained when the horn sounded. Gabryn had entered last with Grimh just in front of him, and the elves gave him a respectful nod as he moved to close the door, such as it was, and as they moved to defend it, to buy the retreating troops some time, all Gabryn could think of was the dark Prince, fallen so far from the glory he had once enjoyed, so far below on the plain.

“Light help us all” Gabryn prayed.

[Alakon]

Hey dudes, had nothing else to do, so I found part of an old story I had and typed it up. Hoped you enjoyed it, maybe I'll finish it eventually too.
Btw, Hurricanes rule! And it doesn't matter if you have no idea what I'm talking about! :grin:

[Jondar]

Btw, Hurricanes rule! And it doesn't matter if you have no idea what I'm talking about! :grin:

Hockey fan?

[Alakon]

New Zealand rugby! Lost against the Crusaders though :( in shocking conditions. You couldn't see anything through the fog, and I mean literally anything.
I turned off the tv to listen to it on the radio. I wonder if anyone's heard about Tana Umaga whacking Chris Masoe with a lady's purse? Funniest thing I ever heard, the lady sold the purse for $22,500 on Trademe. Chris Masoe apparently was rolling drunk and punched a random bar patron, and Tana tried to calm him down by whacking him twice with the handbag, and Chris broke down in tears.
Apparently a very emotional hour at the pub. Never let your mum tell you that drinking never pays! She's doing very well for being at the right place at the right time.

[Chells]

Please do finish it.. or at least add some more. Really good read. :thumbsup:
Thanks

[Alakon]

Cheers, although I'm afraid my story isn't nearly as creative as yours. But I'll possibly write the next section soon... :afro: love that emoticon

[Niderin]

One year later