Trinton's knee, now that he was far from danger, decided to free itself. With a sickening click, the joint released tension, and though it throbbed with pain, he found he could move it. Raising to his feet with an assortment of grunts, he marched over to the parapets and lent over. He looked not at Muiri, who was floundering wildly with her fingers to keep her grip on the wall, but past her towards the grassy earth below. 

"That was my brother's sword," he said with collected calm, "carried that everywhere with me, since he fell ten years ago in some southern shit hole." He stretched further forwards, and eyed in dismay the broken shards of his family heirloom as they lay scattered about the barbarian's corpse. His vision hovered over the panicking face of Muiri, whose grip had started to fail, and with a sigh he caught her. His right knee might be less reliable than a Karandirian whore, but his arms were strong through years of standing in a shield wall. With hardly any effort at all, he dragged her over the parapets, armour n'all, and let her drop onto the floor in a heap. 

"If you think you're getting my thanks, you'd be mistaken missy. Coulda done with you swinging that 'berd five minutes ago," he said mockingly. 

Turning to face the real saviour - a mailed soldier, equipped with a bloodied glaive - Trinton smiled, "least one of you useless maggots got some balls, that's a bonus."

The Captain cast a glance over the wall; he hadn't seen any sign of the enemy when he was looking at the shattered sword of his deceased brother, and he didn't see any now. This was odd - what was that barbarian trying to achieve? More importantly, how had he managed to get inside so easily? Sure there were droves of peasant-soldiers sent to Castle Rivergate monthly. Some were recruited into the garrison, and others was passed further along the frontier to bolster other outposts. Rosters and inspections were rushed affairs, fair enough, but someone should have enquired further when they saw the man's dark skin, and his towering bulk. 

An ear piercing grinding noise interrupted Trinton from his musings. He span on the spot and looked down at the courtyard - saw the gate starting to retract. [i]WHAT!?[/i]

"We've been had!" He yelled. Looking around in a panic, the Captain picked up a dulled hatchet from one of the fallen sentries. "To the gate!" 

Before he set off, he reached into his battered steel breastplate, and pulled out a nimble whistle held to his neck by a piece of discoloured string. Bringing it to his cracked lips, he blew four shrieking blasts. The sergeants on the north wall were already reacting to the crisis, and the Captain could see a score of soldiers making for the gate's mechanical compartment - but the giant oaken monster that kept the world beyond at bay was already six feet off the ground. Turning to the woman he was intent on not showing gratitude to, and the capable fighter that had saved him from getting his arse skewered, he nodded.

"If that gate goes up before the sergeants can put a stop to it, them black eyed bastards beyond the wall are gonna surge through. It'll be the end of us as we know it. You two head for the gate's mechanical compartment, see if you can help, I'm gonna go gather the Emperor's men in the courtyard," he paused to look up at the sun, "yup, looks like a good day to die. You got your orders, I'll see you in the clouds above!" 

Trinton grappled a ladder mounted to the inside of the western wall, and slid down the rungs. He sent several more blasts through his whistle - and men, especially the more experienced of the garrison, flocked to him. Together they headed for the gate and formed a muddled shield wall, ready to brave the onslaught if the sergeants couldn't get the thing shut in time. He shivered as the floor trembled, and he eyed through the widening gap of the gateway an immeasurable line of warriors storming towards the breach. 

"Archers!" 

"Volley!" 

"Fire at will!" 

Sergeants were barking their frantic orders on the northern ramparts. The heart rending sound of a hundred bow strings being released at once gave hope the Captain, and he saw through the gate that the first rank of the barbarians had collapsed under a weathering wall of flighted death - but more surged forwards to bury those that had fallen under foot.