”Oh. Yessir!” Annabeth merely smiled as she was given the orders to rally Captain Cassius’s troops. Taking his sword she rushed off towards the leatherworker shop. Annabeth remembered working there once, not the most enjoyable job she’s ever done. Stinked more than the fens. Soon she’d arrive to a makeshift camp and saw a red haired man there. Annabeth let her thou serous voice awaken them. ”Wake up! Prepare for battle! Your captain has commanded you to rally to the walls!”

Of course the men were sluggish and cautious of this random woman giving them orders, so she flashed the sword towards them in the torch light. ”Surely you heard the war horns? The city is under attack. Captain Cassius has ordered us to be ready to defend the walls!” Annabeth would wait for them to get ready properly before she’d leave them. Presumably they know what they’re suppose to do.

Meanwhile the mercenary army was finally able to put out most of the fires. Without those boats harassing them the mercs could focus on gearing up for battle. While thy lost some supplies the overall damage to the forces weren’t too bad, though there was a lot of deserters. However Commander Diclonii didn’t care to pursue them; he had more than enough troops here to deal with the city and the orcs. ”Set up palings at our rear! Those orcs don’t have the numbers to try and attack us directly, so all we need is cover from their arrows. Keep the crossbowmen watching the forest when they return. The rest of you, prepare the catapults and the towers. There will be no more mercy now!”

The catapults were constructed first, and soon they would launch their payload barely an hour after the attack. They first launched over sacks of plague-infected manure and waste, to demoralize the enemy and spread disease through the town. Archers were also shooting at the top of the walls to try and kill any sentries or guards who might try and shoot back at them. All the while footsoldiers were making the siege tower to breech the walls. A few men were also hacking away at the town gate with axes, hammers, and rams. One way or another the mercenaries were going to get in.

~

After getting his wound treated, Malakaus took stock of what he had to work with. He had about sixty-seven orcs including himself, though the reinforcements were not riders. They seemed to have been a coalition of various small clans sending a mix of experienced and newer warriors. He could tell from their equipment; the older ones had their own shields, spears, and armor, while the younger lads barely had shirts and warclubs. Fortunately the plunder from the weapon caravan would help even out the differences as steel was distributed evenly. Organizing his troops by their abilities, he had twenty-seven boar riders with black bows who can skirmish and provide long-range attacks, with thirty warriors who could serve as as foot soldiers to push back the infantry and hold ground. There were ten warriors in particular who seemed even more experienced than the rest, as they had a combination of battleaxes and greatswords of excellent craftsmanship. When Malakaus spoke to them, they apparently were the sons and even chiefs of some of the smaller clans, which would explain their superior equipment.

Still, that doesn't mean they were invincible. For all of their strength, orcs were still mortals and die from wounds as much as any other man, dwarf, or elf would. And these men were not trained under Malakaus, so he can't expect them to follow his commands or know his strategies. He needed to work with their strength as oppose to forcing them to work with his. With that in mind, his strength was in shooting. So as he had his men gather up in different mobs, he went to see his second-in-command, Torkin Yarick. A son of the current Vorinclex chieftain, and one of Malakaus's closer friends. Despite being a full-blooded orc he had a similar size and build as Malakaus, which in orc society may as well be weedy and weak. But because of that, he and Malakaus shared the same interest of using cunning over brutality. In fact it was Torkin's idea to construct the Warwolf, and he's really the only orc here who knew how to use it well. Even Malakaus only has a vague idea of how to construct it, let alone operate it.

"Torkin, nyz tyim dni Warwolf cyyg?

"Ryd dy pet pymm. U zumn zi syoct secuphedi ud zudn myli dimd mnydm wuhmd, pod U gryz zi ser'd humg ud zudn dni irila my scymi dy dni suda. Nefi dy legi ifiha mnyd syord huknd?"

"Dned zi ty. Pod U dhomd ayoh mgucc. Ayo'fi piir bhesdusurk zudn dni ydnih lyticm piwyhi, my ayo'hi dni pimd pid zi nefi. Zi'cc ceorsn yod riqd emmeocd myyr my pi bhibehit dy eddesg yr la syllert. Znir U pcyz dni iekci nyhr, dned'm znir U riit ayo dy mdehd wuhurk. Ert zedsn yod wyh era iriluim em zicc. Dnimi mzelbm ehi ryd yod nyli."

"Yw syohmi pymm. Ciefi ud dy li; U'cc bhydisd dnum selb ert wceddir dy nolerm!"

"Vomd dni lihsirehuim, Torkin. Dni yrim zudnur dni zeccm U zerd dy mbieg zudn."

The two parted ways as the final preparations were made. Malakaus went back to his tent to gear up, putting on his armor, helmet, and gauntlets. His mother handed him his axe, sharpened and oiled, as he went to meet his soldiers. There was an ominous air around them; the dead of night did not make anyone feel particularly eager. The younger orcs were anxious to do battle while the veteran ones were curious to see how Malakaus conducted his battles. They had gathered in groups as he had ordered them to: each of the more well-armed warriors would lead a small team each. Ten warriors each had three orcs, thus allowing them to structure should they get separated from the rest. Malakaus had also split his boar riders into three seperate groups; he would be part of the vanguard of seven others to lead and direct the troops. Ten riders will remain in the camp to assist Torkin operate the Warwolf as well as to guard the camp now that the mercenaries may have gone into the forest to hunt them down. Eight more orcs will remain hidden but near the vanguard to switch out with warriors who run out of ammo or get wounded. Finally, there will be two orcs who's job would be to travel between the different units to give orders or run supplies. This may have seem odd for some of the orcs who are used to just being one massive horde, but broken down to their individual parts it was essentially just small gangs organized by their weapon types. Simple enough for even them to follow.

As they waited for Malakaus, he mounted his boar. His beast had also been treated for wounds and was eager to get his revenge. He turned to his orcs and gave them a rousing speech to encourage them. Off to the side, shaman women were blessing alcohol and passing them to soldiers to drink. It would give them courage in battle and heal their wounds, supposedly. If nothing else it'll numb the pain so they can keep fighting. Malakaus himself received a drink as he raised it up, and the other warriors did the same. "Myyr zi zucc ky ty peddci zudn dni nolerm ed dni suda yw Tamberle. Ur rolpihm dnia ehi khied, pod ecyri dnia ehi zieg ert syzehtca. Vomd em zicc, yfihsyrwutirsi um er urmutuyom guccih. Mdea zudn ayoh phydnihm-ur-ehlm ert ayo zucc mii fusdyha dytea!" Malakaus raised his cup into the air and got a loud and hearty cheer. But he wasn't finished yet.

"Zi ehi ryd nihi dy bcortih. Zi ehi ryd nihi mulbca dy mceokndih. U nefi phyoknd ayo ecc dy dnimi zeccm wyh mylidnurk khiedih dner vomd yoh biybci'm mohfufec yh ifir yoh yzr bihmyrec kcyha. U wuknd wyh yoh wodohim. Weh dy dni ryhdn, yod biybci nefi piir thufir whyl dniuh nolerm pa fuci nolerm. Pod zyhmi mducc zem dned dnihi ehi scerm zny nefi dni eotesuda dy degi noler syur dy pidhea dniuh yzr biybci. Dned dnia zyoct cyzih dnilmicfim dy lihi dyycm ert khyfic uw ud lierm dnia ser cufi erydnih tea. Pod U zucc ryd cid om cufi cugi piemdm! Zudnur dnymi zeccm um e noler zny U ser omi dy hikeur yoh nylicert. Urmdiet yw piurk dni mihferd, zi mnecc pi dni lemdih! Zi mnecc mceokndih dnimi shefirm yodmuti yw dni suda ert whyl dnihi zi zucc pikur yoh syrxoimd dy degi pesg zned um hukndwocca yohm! Dnum um yoh wodohi ryz!"

Malakaus chugged his drink as did the rest of his warriors. They tossed their cups to the ground as soon as they were done, drew their weapons, and turned to march towards the enemy. The alcohol filled their bodies with warmth as Malakaus's words gave them a sense of purpose beyond just the basic thrills of battle and bloodshed. There was something greater than themselves they were fighting for now. By the time the orcs were near the mercenaries, they had already set up wooden walls and begun firing catapults into the city. Malakaus had his foot soldiers wait by the treeline where they had cover against the crossbowmen, who Malakaus could see thanks to his darkvision. He had expected the mercenaries to be more wary now. He also didn't see the corpse of the monster boar, so he guessed it was still alive and simply drawn away elsewhere. A problem for later perhaps. Right now he needed to get his men moving. He sent his foot soldiers to take positions to the east, while he and his boar riders went to the west. When he gives them the signal, that's when they would need to charge.

The walls would make things a bit difficult since the crossbowmen would have cover, but nothing that Malakaus and his men can't handle. Quietly he had the reserve troops switch to flaming arrows while he told his vanguard to take out their oil flasks. Once they were ready they rode out as quickly as possible. It wasn't long before the karsuians heard the hooves and started firing upon Malakaus and his orcs. He made sure they rode in a staggered formation so each rider had room to dodge the arrows. Right now it was important to simply avoid getting hit over trying to return fire. They needed to be closer first, and when they did Malakaus and his riders threw the oil flasks against the wooden walls. The shattering of the clay flasks was the signal for the archers to shoot flaming arrows into the soaking walls, causing them to burst into flames. Malakaus then retreated back into the forest before the crossbowmen could return fire, switching to his war bow and firing a few arrows into the fortifications. Each arrow caused the walls to shake and in some spokes the arrows even took off bits and pieces of wood out. That ought to give the soldiers something to think about.

Avery sat by the dwindling fire of his camp, nursing away at a bottle of ale as he used a stick to tease the flames awake. He'd been put in charge, so to speak, in Cassius's absences due to Lady Maren. God, Avery hates it in Tamberle. It reeks of the fire-fens even inside the city, there's too many people - he likes a crowd, and there's still too many! - and Cassius had told them all explicitly to just lie low unless given direct orders, which is the exact opposite of why he joined this damned group. He wanted action! Adventure! Treasure! Damsels in distress! Sure, he's eaten and drank better in the last month than he has in his entire nineteen years, but still! He longed for something more. Something meaningful. Something-

"Wake up!" comes a feminine voice of which Avery does not recognize. "Prepare for battle! Your captain has commanded you to rally to the walls!"

Avery grins as his brothers-in-arms start to rouse awake. An uninvited guest! This is more like it, even if only a bit! He stands up and draws his shortsword at her, using it almost like a pointer. "And who do you think you are, woman, to boss us around? You don't know our captain!" Avery can sense two - maybe three? - of his allies coming from behind to.. well, to back him up, ha!

As this strange woman unsheathes her sword, she raises it high, allowing the firelight to illuminate and reveal that the sword is actually their captain's sword - it's hard to mistake that etched blade for any other. Avery lowers his in response, and he can sense the one of the two men take a step back, as if embarrassed for jumping to conclusions. Avery, frankly, was also somewhat flushed, and it's not just because of the alcohol.

"Surely you heard the war horns?" The woman asks, "The city is under attack. Captain Cassius has ordered us to be ready to defend the walls!"

"Alright, men!" Avery raises his voice, "You heard her - suit up and arm yourselves!" He starts to walk around, making sure his voice is getting to every man there - he gives one man a kick in the side. "Get up, William, you lazy ass! We don't have all night! They could be tearing through the city as we speak!"

---

---

It didn't take long at all for the men to properly suit up - only maybe 4 of the dozen men had a good set of steel-plated armor, the rest had light leathers. The follow the woman - who they now know as Annabeth - and Avery, swords as well as bows and arrows at the ready just in case of-

SPLAT

Three men let out a surprised cry as Avery stops mid-step and turns around. He grimaces, and then looks down at the broken sack of, eh.. fertilizer in the midst of them. One of the three behind him let out an uncharacteristically girlish shout as he frantically tries to get the manure off of his leather armor, "I just bought this, for fuck's sake!" Classic Erik.

"We need to hurry this up," another voice says - Arthurus. "if they're chucking cow shite across the wall, they're likely to bombard us with worse."

Avery nods, gesturing for the men to start running. "Other than the timing, the plan is the same - Erik, Gregory, Art, you're on the wall with the archers; Quincy, William, and Aldwin, you're at the gate with your bows; the rest of us are with the footmen. Aye?"

"Aye!" a chorus of twelve men.. and then Erik's voice chimes in, "what about the lady?"

"Does it really matter?" Arthurus retorts, "She has a war hammer- she's probably stronger than your arse!"

"Hey now, it takes strength to draw this string back!" Erik insists indignantly.

Annabeth just smirked as the men roused themselves for battle. She lead them towards the walls when suddenly there was a large explosion of stink and water. Anna covered her face in case it was oil, but it turned out to be shit. Literal shit. "Disgusting! As if this place wasn't foul enough with the fire-fens. Ugh, and to think I'm actually used to this wretched smell..." Annabeth pulled a small scarf up over her mouth to block the scent as Avery sent his men to their position. Not too far away Annabeth could hear the gates getting broken down and the town guards had already positioned themselves nearby, ready to intercept. Annabeth put her helmet on and lowered her visor, giving her a rather spooky appearance. As she hefted her hammer the other men started bickering which just made her speak up so they'd pay attention. "Those gates won't hold for long, let's get into positions!" Annabeth ran to join the town guard behind the makeshift fortifications they set up. Boxes, upturned wagons, and even a few stakes pounded into the ground. Most of the town guard had crossbows trained at the gate for the inevitable.

Back at the camp, when the orcs attacked the mercenaries were quick to take cover from their arrows and fire. News reached Diclonii quickly but he showed no concerned. "Cowards, are you afraid of a little fire!? Those orcs are just trying to bait you into focusing on them. Once we take the walls their boars will mean nothing to us. Take cover, take a few shots at them when you can, and most importantly hold your ground!" The commander turned to a couple of soldiers who were about to load up more manure when he shouted at them. "Two catapults, start loading the rocks! Aim for the city ramparts. Two siege towers are nearly complete, all we need to do is clear off any defenders and we'll be able to take the walls." All the while the soldiers were getting results into breaking through the gate. All they needed to do now was get their shock troopers ready to charge in once the gate was open.

As the catapults continued to fire their volley into the city, the gates crashed open. Arrows immediately flew through the gates towards the city's defenders to force them behind cover or else get struck by an arrow. Annabeth herself had turned away into a corner before she could've been struck. After the arrows came in the shock troopers: The Hellhound Knights. Though they were the opposite of knightly; they were the worse types of bandits and murderers that could exist. Most were criminals arrested in the Erlad Kingdom, but had been given "permission" to join the karusian mercenaries. They were meant to be cannon fodder, but many of these men were natural killers and inhumanely strong. As soon as the arrows were fired they charged through the gate and right towards the defenders. Their leader was a brute of a man with a gorilla-like face armed with a huge club, bigger than a man's body. Despite his size he was also fast as the defenders fired their crossbows at him and his horse, but he was easily able to smash them out of the air.

"Is that all you got!? I AM KRUSH THE RAVAGER! And I'll enjoy smashing all of you men and women alike! Ga ha ha ha ha!"

Skurr had waited and watched as the first volleys from the mercenary catapults struck. He had heard stories about this kind of thing, trying to create disease and weaken the will to fight. But, the Karusians seemed to lack even this knowledge. They were storming the city without giving any chance for disease to occur.

They were impatient. It made them easy to read.

They had two towers for attacking the walls but they weren't complete and would need to be moved to the wall after they were finished. It would be at least an hour for them to move such things across the sucking ground of the fens and since the moat was still present the towers shouldn't be able to reach the wall without help. Flinging waste into the city was little more than a distraction but it did mean that the catapult crews knew their ranges and could hit the walls if they aimed for them.

Skurr grabbed his basket of weapons and hoisted it on his back, taking his spear in hand, before beginning to run along the wall toward the gate at as low a crouch as he could manage. He would stay up high and keep the battlements behind his back to block the enemy's arrows and sight. From there he should be able to throw his missiles down upon the backs and heads of the forces that were certain to breach the gate. He approached the section of the wall above the gate as the clicking of crossbow bolts against the stone of the battlements became an unnatural rhythm. He had barely set down the basket when a large stone smashed through a small section of the battlements along the wall. The hit was at some distance but it did strike another of those who had been waiting to guard the wall.

The man's fate was... clear. But, there would be time for coping with the mess later.

While he had been distracted by the state of the walls, the gate had been under furious assault. His attention was wrenched back to the matter at hand by the tremendous crack of the gate splitting to allow the enemy in. The leader was a brute, he attacked like a wounded shark. He seemed to protect himself only so as to harm others. Savage and strong. It would take those with other skills to stop him. However, the men behind him were a bigger threat. They followed his lead, slaughtering those who were stunned or distracted by the leader's powerful charge. They were causing more death than that brute was.

The gate had to hold. All of the other attack methods would take far longer than this one. This was the priority and the fish were all gathered below Skurr, oblivious to the threat from above. He took up a javelin, aimed, and threw. Four paces behind the leader, one of the attackers fell with a gurgle as his pierced throat failed to serve its usual purpose. Another javelin followed, and another. The basket had been a little heavy but it still could carry only so many weapons. Eight javelins brought down eight enemies. Five harpoons also found their marks before one of the attackers raised the cry about the attacker above. That one could have dodged, Skurr aimed for the leader instead, hurling one of his last three harpoons at his low back. It was one of the hardest places to protect and an usual target for most. But, for a fisherman, the lower spine was a great target. If you could hit it, you could keep your catch far fresher and make better money at port. Besides, this guy wouldn't go down from one harpoon and a fisherman didn't need glory. He just needed to make the savage a little easier for the others to kill.

Several of the attackers had found stairs and were charging up to attack him. He had two harpoons left and precious little time to throw them. He quickly tossed one in a long, high arc over the wall. He hoped it would hit someone still crossing the bridge but he couldn't spare the time to look. If nothing else, it might stick and trip someone into the moat. There were things in the waters here that got... aggressive... when agitated. His last harpoon he trained on the head of the stairs, hurling it the moment his gut told him to. It hit a shield made of simple wood. They had known what to expect of a ranged fighter. But, they had failed to factor in one key difference between harpoons and arrows. Harpoons were as heavy as any other light spear and barbed so that they could not be pulled out. The lead mercenary found his light shield to suddenly be quite a bit heavier than he remembered. It slowed him down and threw off his balance. Skurr's sudden lunge with his short spear caught the man in the face and sent him screaming back toward the ground.

Then the fight began in earnest.

Maren Trevoste

For all her thinking, and planning Maren was not ready for the anarchy of a full blown siege. The mercenaries had momentarily beat back the orcish raid and now focused their assault on the city. The siege towers that Maren had watched grow ever larger with each passing day did not seem a threat at the time. Surely they would become bogged down in the fire-fens?. But Maren had underestimated the Karsusians. One of the towers lurched forward with the grunts and straining cries of the men and horses pushing and pulling the wooden monstrosity. Maren expected it to tumble into the marsh immediately, but it miraculously remained upright. Bastards must have filled the fens with rocks or wooden planks.. she thought. One of the towers seemed to be struggling to advance however and it would surely be an hour or more before they reached the walls.

A booming crash sounded from the gatehouse just as a volley of missiles soared over the city walls. Maren ducked instinctively. The gate exploded with such force Maren saw a dozen men tumble back. Then the enemy was through the gate and the battle ensued. She turned to Cassius.

"Defend the city Cassius! I am no use here on the walls. I will go to the Chapel to see if I can help with the wounded!"
Maren hurried down the stairs just as a large rock smashed into the wall nearby crushing a defender instantly. She grimaced. She had not seen such carnage up close before. The blood seemed to rush from her head as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Maren felt suddenly very, very tired. Her vision blurred. She looked up and saw a man flinging javelins into the mass of mercenaries hacking their way into the city. Then Maren collapsed at the foot of the stone stairs and fell into darkness.

It didn’t seem like the soldiers were going to risk coming out to chase the orcs. Wise of them to hide behind their walls but it’ll only be a matter of time before the orcs can get pass their defenses. But before Malakaus could go for another run, a couple of the foot soldiers charged out from the woods to attack some of the soldiers busy with a siege tower. Malakaus sure cursed his lucky; those fools know that they weren’t suppose to charge until he gave them the signal!

The orcish warriors at least had the ah fly to not shout their battlecry out u til they had already stared attacking the humans, surprising them and getting a few kills. However their surprise attack quickly turned for the worse. Before the orcs were able to send the soldiers running because none were prepared for battle, but this time they were ready. Even after they lost a few of their own, they attacked the orcs with their superior numbers. Even the veteran warriors were quickly stopped as pokes skewered their limbs and legs, and swords hacked their bodies apart. This caused the younger warriors to lose moral seeing the more experienced and powerful warriors quickly cut down. They were about to break and flee when suddenly the siege tower was smashed apart by a large boulder.

An eagle screech cut through the night. Malakaus didn’t want to have to do this before his men softened up the enemy, but no plan survives first contact. At least Torkin’s aim was true. The boulder sent wood and body parts scattering around the soldiers as Malakaus sent a barrage of arrows to kill the men. He didn’t care if he struck his own orcs; he had gave them explicate orders to wait for his command and the fact they broke it made them traitors in his eyes.

As Malakaus and his archers rained arrows upon the soldiers he blew another horn that emulated a wolf’s howl. This was the signal they needed to hear to start charging. As the arrows tore through the mercenaries Malakaus lead a charge into the camp itself. He sent a few boar riders as a distraction to draw crossbow fire, losing one of the boars in the process. But as the crossbowmen would be reloading Malakaus and his riders charged the rear walls, shaking the defenses with the sound of their hooves and the shock from their arrows.

The palisades couldn’t withstand the strength of an orcish Calvary charge and soon the walls came tumbling down. The Karsusian mercenaries would barely have time to react as Malakaus and his warriors cut them down with their blades and spears, grumbling anyone they could personally kill underneath their pigs. By now Malakaus could also see the catapults shooting rocks into the city, so Malakaus blew his eagle horn again to signal Torkin to change his targets. All the while the orc footsoldiers poured in from the forest to finish the job at the other siege tower, using their own numbers and sheer aggression to crush any resistance.

Malakaus would need to meet up with his infantry soon, to avoid friendly fire from the Warwolf. He had his men throw oil around the tents and set fire in order to create further chaos and get the soldiers off their tail, allowing them to join up with the infantry and assist them in killing any soldier who could pick a fight.

"Defend the city Cassius! I am no use here on the walls. I will go to the Chapel to see if I can help with the wounded!"

Cassius nodded, following Maren down the steps - it's the closest set of steps down - going to get his dagger from his belt-

But then the noblewoman tumbles, fainting. Cassius catches her before she can possibly knock herself in the head on the stone steps, gently setting her down on the ground instead. He kneels close to her, checking her pulse and her breathing before cursing under his breath. She's alive, she's just exhausted. She has every right to be, she hasn't been sleeping well, and then all this? It's too much for this woman's heart and mind to take.

His duty, as a hired bodyguard, is to protect her first, any orders she gives come second - if he were to leave her there, she was an easy target for the Karsusians and they - nay, Mago - will have won. He has to take her to the Chapel. Surely they'd have the sense and morality to not attack those protected by those walls. Surely. It'd be the greatest offense if they breached those walls..

He picks her up and puts her over his shoulder-

"Captain?" a familiar voice calls from the back of the defending force - William.

"Will? Oh thank the Gods- William, abandon position, I need you to watch my back!"

William releases one more arrow to the fight before running to his captain. "Is that Lady Maren? Is she alright-?"

"Yes, she's only faint. She needs to get to the walls of the Chapel."

William nods, "I've walked the city a bit, I know a possible safe way 'round to the Chapel, just in case the Karsusians get through the first round of defenses."

"Stay close behind and guide me, then."

---

---

After ducking into cover with Annabeth, Avery was frozen. This is what he had wanted, fantasized about, dreamed of! But being in the midst of it? This is insane. This is insane.

His breathing was shallow and he was partially deaf to the chaos only just to his left. He didn't want this! His knuckles are white from gripping his sword's handle so tightly, but he didn't have the sense to draw it from its scabbard. Avery stood there, listening-but-not-really to the chaos at the gates, stomach in knots and unable to force himself to move.

It was a slaughter on both sides. The Hellhound knights made quick work of the townguards as they tried to put up a valiant fight. Some stood their ground and tried to hold off the brigands with their spears, others fired their crossbows, only to get slain or crushed underneath the hooves of the war horses. But just as well, Skurr's spears found their marks and killed many of the horsemen before they even realized that there was an actual threat. However the spears he sent towards Krush failed to harm him; even though he didn't see Skurr he was able to react quickly enough to not only avoid getting impaled, but even grabbed one of the spears out from the air. That being said, the other two skewered the bandit leader's horse, forcing him to dismount as his beast fell down. It was in that moment that Annabeth came out from her hiding spot and went to attack Krush, but even despite his tumble he was able to raise his club and stop Annabeth's warhammer from connecting. "Ga ha ha ha! Yes yes yes struggle, scream for me! Oh I do love it when they're lively!"

Skurr would soon find more of the Hellhound knights take notice and swarm his position. They didn't seem to care that their own allies were being killed by him, as if they simply didn't think of him as a major threat. No, these men came at him with the sort of furor a pack of hungry feral dogs would rip and tear at a wolf; they didn't care for the danger as long as they got their bite. The second man to reach Skurr had a heavy flail on a long chain. He gave it a small whirl around his head as he sent the spiked ball right towards Skurr's chest. He wanted Skurr to try and block the flail, knowing that on these narrow ramparts there was hardly any room to dodge. And if Skurr did try block the attack, he'd find the flail would've wrapped around his spear. More knights were coming armed with vicious looking bludgeons and axes, some getting killed by arrow fire, but that didn't do anything to put a dent in their madness.

Cassius would hear the hollering of some Hellhound knights as they broke into a home nearby. The screams of the family inside made it clear that whatever they were doing, it wasn't just looting. A few more knights came around the bend and caught a glimpse of the captain and the comatose princess. "Hey, I see someone over there! Don't let em get away!" Their torches burned the night as well as anything else flammable that was nearby. Avery wouldn't have it any easier either as two soldiers charged at him with their halberds, wanting to turn him into a nice mince meat.

Meanwhile back at the camp the orcs were now attacking. Commander Diclonii turned to see that there were more orcs here than before, and he was growing very tired of the interruptions. The Siege Towers, or at least the one that was left, was slowly making it's way towards the wall and drawing arrow fire. It would take some time but at least it wasn't bogged down. After all there was a reason why there was so much bags of sand in the camp. "Blasted orcs! Men, form up around me, we're going to get rid of those swine once and for all!" Taking whatever soldiers weren't currently occupied with something Diclonii went to fight the orcs. He had his soldiers form a shield wall to block any arrows and had pikemen stab any orcs that tried to get close. Once he was in the fray Diclonii went all out. He flourished it steel-shod staff and delivered a flurry of blows onto any orcs within his range. With a single swing he could easily shatter their shields or crush their skulls. Even if they dodged, blocked, or parried his attacks, each swing fed the momentum into the next one, creating a human hurricane of destruction. Left and right he crushed the barbarian warriors with brutal efficiency, like cutting wheat with a scythe.

Skurr had dealt most of the damage he could. There were few defenders on this part of the wall, most had gone below or fallen to crossbow bolts. He was almost entirely alone. That wouldn't bother him normally. Most tavern brawls were much the same. However, he had gathered far too much attention. For all his ability as a fisherman, he was no soldier and certainly no hero. He didn't care to die and staying here meant death.

He had killed his last opponent at the top step of the stairs on this side of the gatehouse. Of all the places to use a flail, fighting up a slope is one of the worst. If the man had succeeded in getting to the top before he used the flail then Skurr would only have had about two feet on his sides to use for dodging. But, the man was still below him on the stairs and was flinging his spiked ball up that slope at Skurr. The fisherman, used to bad footing and small boats, had the entire length of the wall on either side to use for evasion. He simply took a step to the side and then lunged before the man could react.

But, this time he didn't go for a kill.

These men were acting feral, they were mad with battle and the only way to stop them would be to either break them from their madness or kill them all. He couldn't kill them all. But, just maybe, he might be able to have a greater effect by inflicting suffering... permanent suffering. He lunged low and deep, piercing the man's torso just under the ribs of his left side. The tip of his spear emerged from the man's back smartly in the center, through the spine. The wound could be fatal, but death was not guaranteed. However, the man would never use his legs again. The shock and confusion on the man's face as his legs seemingly disappeared out from under him made Skurr's gut twist but he had no time to hesitate. He kicked the man off his spear, causing him to tumble down the stairs into the legs of the men behind him. The resulting confusion and falls brought about many injuries and a delay of nearly a full minute before the next reached the top from that side. He didn't wait that long. As soon as the crippled man began his fall, Skurr began his flight back along the wall, staying low and fast while seeking a good way down off the walls.

The other stairs by the gatehouse were less effectively defended.

A couple men had managed to make it to the top in spite of the remaining defenders and their best efforts. Several of those who had tried lay dying or had fallen below. But, the defenders were being forced toward Skurr's side of the gatehouse. They would be pinned soon if they didn't move. Thankfully, one of them had the wits to call for a retreat from that position and the perception to realize that they had to flee along the wall. The two who still stood followed that order and disengaged from battle but one wasn't fast enough and was cut down from behind. The smart one and the survivor were pursued instantly. Still, they fled quickly and were able to catch up to Skurr, instinctively forming an improvised squad.

The two men were wielding a sword and a spear that had lost some of its shaft. The swordsman also had a small shield but it was split and nearly useless. But, in spite of the poor condition of their equipment, they still had fight in them. They reached a place where a small stairway descended from the wall. The two soldiers were still following Skurr but they turned down the stairs, calling for him to return and follow them.

Skurr had passed the head of the stairs by only a short distance and did turn. But, he turned to attack. They still had pursuers, three of them. The leader had a sword, the second had an axe and the third was carrying a pair of oversized cleavers. All of their weapons were bloodied. This was a risk, but if Skurr kept running then he would end up being the fish instead of the fisherman. A deep lunge allowed him to strike the leader through the center of the chest before he could understand that his preferred prey were now merely a distraction. The spine was still the target and the strike was good, but this blow was higher. The man would not be able to breathe. It would not be a quick end for him. The ferociousness of the remaining two prevented any hesitation and Skurr was forced to jump backward to avoid a deadly slash from the axe. He had lost momentum but gained time and claimed the attention of these two enemies. They were focused on him now and heedless of the fact that with a few careless steps they had passed the top of the stairs and left their backs open to an emboldened charge by the two soldiers who had headed down below.

The resulting skirmish was brief and the two soldiers and the fisherman headed down the stairs and into an alley during the brief lull in the action that surrounded them. However, they had little chance to catch their breath. One of the soldiers spotted the princess being carried down the street. He also saw that she and her guards were being pursued. The soldiers were worried and lacked confidence in their ability to help. It showed in their faces and in their hesitation. Skurr broke the tension quickly.

"What're your names?"

They looked at him and blinked for a moment before they gathered their wits enough to answer. "Rod Kalehew." Said the one with the damaged spear. "Longton Ash." Said the swordsman with the damaged shield.

"Skurr Nippledbottom. Well met. Head back to the gate and help the best fighter you can see. Get attention and buy time. Stay alive. I'll help her." Skurr said flatly. He wasn't feeling great. His breath was ragged. His skin was pale. He had the blood of strangers on his spear. His bare feet were sticky with blood and worse, and was trying to not think about the fact that his odds of surviving this battle were dropping. He might need to flee and seek refuge on one of the ships before this was over. But, he had to try and achieve something or he wouldn't be able to gain passage. Even in these times, merchant vessels rarely did anything for free. He would need collateral or connections. Collateral was difficult to run with. Connections... if he could make an impact protecting the princess's life he might be able to secure his own survival at the same time. He pulled himself up straight without waiting for a reply and quietly dashed in pursuit of the men pursuing the princess's guards.

The attack was going good so far despite initial mishaps. Once unified the orcs did a proper job staying in formation, watching each other backs, and wiping out the opposition. Malakaus made sure to have his riders harass any enemy away from the bulk of his warriors and/or chase down any fleeing soldiers less they return with reinforcements. However things did not last.

As his warriors pushed closer towards the catapults it looked like the mercenary commander had personally joined the fighting. He was definitely a cut above the average soldier. Many of Malakaus’s orcs fell to his attacks, even the more experienced warriors could barely keep themselves alive, let alone fight the man. Malakaus knew he would personally had to fight this knight himself or else he may end up routing his warriors alone. Malakaus called for his riders to clear the soldiers around the enemy commander, as well as had his messenger head back to camp and tell Torkin to adjust his aim to destroy the siege weapons. Malakaus warriors could deal with the soldier once he defeats the leader.

The warlord charged towards Commander Diclonii as he was tearing through his forces. Bodies both orc and men laid around him. As two veteran warriors were trying to withstand the commander’s onslaught, Malakaus rose up behind the man quickly and leapt off his boat, taking out his axe to sunder the commander in half from head-to-toe while he was distracted. A classic helmsplitter technique.

Hark walked through the dim lit halls of the Durum grand hall as he made his way towards the throne room where Lord Barnard would be awaiting him. He was more than a little annoyed at the short notice he received from Lord Bernard . Hark was in the middle of a short break from his constant assasination mission he and his men were given to try and put down anyone who was sympathetic towards the kings sister, Maren.

As Hark turned the last corner he came face to face with 12 of the Lords crown guards who were waiting to escort him into the throne room. He let out a snort of annoyance, even though he was unarmed and the Frostbourn stronghold has been one of Bernard’s got to mercenary groups for over a decade he still showed distrust. ”Halt!”, a commanding voice came from the crowd as a figure stepped out. His marking of gold on his armor signified him as the commander of the small troop and Hark stopped as the man walked up to him to do one final inspection for weapons or anything that could harm the king.

After the commander of the guard was finished patting down Hark and was satisfied there were no weapons he stepped back out in front of him. ”One last thing”, the guard started, ”You will remove that mask before you speak with the Lord.”. Hark took a few steps back and clenched his fists, of all the stupid things they wanted him to remove his mask. ”You can take my weapons but You’ll have to kill me before this mask comes off my face.” Hark too a step back to brace himself if they tried to forcefully remove his mask. It was a sacred tradition that the grandmaster of the Frostbourn don’t remove their mask outside of the stronghold. The mask was a symbole of authority and respect that gets handed down to each new grandmaster to wear until he is killed or become too old to fight. He watched watiently as the guards exchanged glances before the commander spoke, ”Very well you may enter without the removal of your mask.”

The commander nodded towards the two guards manning the door and they turned around and pushed the two massive doors that opened up onto a grand room that held the throne. As Hark entered he was flanked by the troop but before they could get more than a few steps into the room a demanding voice came from the figure laying on the throne, ”Leave is Comander Riker this is a private meeting.” Hark looked over to his left where Riker stood and he looked as if he were about to argue but he knew better and kept his mouth closed and did a small bow and led his men out of the room.

Hark and Bernard waited in silence until the guards cleared the throne room and closed the door before Hark asked ”So my lord, what was I summoned so urgently for?” Bernard didn’t respond right away instead getting up and walking over to one of the giant stained glass windows and ran his fingers along the crown that was depicted on the glass.

”As you know I had a spy in the mercenary camp that was to send constant updates of anything changed in the camp.” Bernard said, ”we received our last letter from the raven that reported that those bastard orcs attacked from their flanks and all hell broke loose and they had to start the siege prematurely. The chances of the siege being a success at this point seam slim to none. I want you to gather your best warriors, rangers, and trackers and go to the fire-fens and track down and bring Maren to me alive if she is not already dead so I can present her to King Mago as a show of my loyalty and strength. You may go now but remember if she is still alive you are to ensure nothing is to happen to her until she is brought to me and I can present her to Mago

Hark just have a small nod to Lord Bernard and headed out of the throne room to collect up his weapons before heading out to find his men who were scattered among the many whore houses and pubs Durum was home to. Jeez the men aren’t going to be thrilled about this Hark thought to himself as he sheathed his many blades and prepared to gather his troop.

"Hey, I see someone over there! Don't let 'em get away!"

"Captain!" William's voice is a frantic whisper, looking over his shoulder and the men coming closer - oh please don't be going after them, please-? "Go left, go left, go left-"

Cassius does so, dodging into the alleyway William had so eloquently demanded he go into - then they run. William keeps glancing over his shoulder- one knight is tailing behind them uncomfortably close, horrid grin and wide eyes locked on them. Where did the other one go-?

The captain lets out a gasp and forces William to stop as well, drawing his bow back, trying to step back but Cassius is holding firm.

"Aww, lookie here, Caulder," the one in front of William says. Trapped like rats, these uns."

The other one - Caulder, apparently - just giggles like a twisted child. Cassius goes to draw his sword, but he had given it to that blasted woman. He quickly adjusts his aim and he gets his dagger instead, holding it out in front of him. William is pointing his arrow directly at the face of the knight behind them. This is hopeless. The two men stand back to back as the two knights speak. Cassius can't think of any possible way to handle this. He can feel William shaking from fear, but he can guess William's face is blank.

"Whatcha think, Caulderrr?" the first speaks again, voice thick with.. something. Neither Cassius or Will want to name that emotional. "Kill 'em right here, or tease 'um?"

"Princess!" Caulder replies, gesturing to Lady Maren. His voice is freakishly high-pitched. "Make her squeaall like a lil' pig, ehehe.."

"Yes, of course, but what of th-" A steel-tipped arrow directly into the head forces the first knight to silence. He looks at William with rage in his eyes before his light is snuffed out. As the knight crumbles to the ground, William grabs Cassius by his sleeve and they run back from whence they came. William nearly falls into the street as he rounds the corner - Caulder, for whatever reason, does not immediately follow.

"Forget safest, we need fastest!" he gasps out.

"No joke," Cassius replies.

---

---

Avery lets out another cry of fear as two Karsusians come at him with their axe-spears, drawing his sword just in time to block a hit that could have easily cut his head into halves. The redhead shouts again as he is pushed backwards into the alleyway, like anyone could even help right now. He's on his own - he draws his sword and keeps stepping back - oh this is so much worse than training. This is so much worse. This is horrible. He's going to die-

The soldier in front stops walking, causing the second to sort of bump into him. Avery's expression shifts to hopeless fear to confusion.

"What is the meaning of-"

"He's barely older than us-" the front soldier starts,

"What does it matter?!" the second interrupts, "Kill him, Tiberius!"

Tiberius grimaces, looking at Avery for a moment before turning to his comrade, halberd lowered, "Kedrick, I can't-"

Kedrick pushes him aside, glaring at Tiberius like he's the dumbest person on this planet. "Then I will. Oh, the commander will not be happy to hear you're still soft-" When Kedrick turns his head, he can see that Avery has started to climb up the wall.

"HEY!" Kedrick goes to throw his spear, but Tiberius grabs it, yanking it from his ally's hand and turning it around. He uses the wooden handle to knock Kedrick in the head - the man stumbles into the wall.

"You traitorous cur!" Kedrick growls, turning his halberd onto Tiberius.

"Better than a murderer!" Tiberius screams in response.

As Avery frantically climbs up and over the wall, he can hear the two fighting amongst themselves. The last thing Avery sees before he drops back down on the other side of the wall is Kedrick driving his halberd into the Tiberius's chest.

Annabeth and Krush exchanged blow after blow, with neither able to land a clean hit on one another. But while Annabeth was going all out trying to overwhelm or overpower Krush, he seemed to just be playing with her. His simple wooden club moved quickly to parry her blows but attacked with a lot of wind up just to intimidate Annabeth. She wasn't shaken, but his defense was certainly hard to get pass. Things weren't looking good for everyone else either; while the city guard was holding their own Annabeth was pretty much alone at the gate. Occasionally a Hellhound knight would try to ambush her, but Annabeth or even Krush would end up killing them with nary a glance before continuing their duel. "Goddamn! What does it take to kill this bastard!?"

Slowly but surely Annabeth was getting weaker. She can't let this go on for much longer or else she won't even be able to put up a fight! All the while Krush twirled his club like a toy and smelled the air. "Aaaah! Smell that? Blood, gore, and chaos! Not just the stink of the fire-fens either! Excitement and Enjoyment, that is how I do things. This was fun, little girl, but I think it's time I go after that pretty princess." Krush slammed his club down with thunderous force, fast enough that Annabeth barely caught it. She was only able to dodge fast enough to avoid getting her own head smashed, but the attack caught her arm and nearly ripped it off. Even still it shattered the armor on her gauntlet and broke her arm. She screamed in pain as she stepped back and fell onto one knee. No one was here to help her. The town guardsmen were either dead or on their own. Last she saw of Avery he was getting chased off. It seemed like Annabeth had no one to rely on but herself and she was about to lose.

"Scream for me, little girl. Just one more time! I'll make it quick, I promise! Buwa ha ha ha ha!" Annabeth lowered her head in pain as Krush continued to gloat and taunt Annabeth before picking her up by the head, nearly crushing her head with his grip. He squeezed tighter just to get a response from her but she didn't dare give him that satisfaction. She struggled as he brought is club to Annabeth's chin, bracing it so he could crush her head with his head. His dirty, ugly face laughing right at her. But then underneath her skull-faced helmet, Annabeth laughed back. This made Krush stop for a moment. And then suddenly, blood came out from his mouth as he looked down. He'd been stabbed in the neck by Cassius' own sword. He tried to crush Annabeth's head with his final moments but she didn't let him, and instead she trust her blade out through the back of his head and decapitated him with one blow. Annabeth fell to the ground clutching the sword while her broken arm hung limp and bleeding. With the leader of the Hellhound Knights dead, all they needed to do now was beat back the brigands from the city. "Easy... Yeah..." Annabeth grew lightheaded as she dropped the sword and stabbed Krush's head with a pike, propping it up at the town's gate so everyone could see the dead leader. With that done, she picked up the captain's sword and then collapsed.

---

The knight who was chasing Cassius almost followed but stopped after he looked at his dead ally. Two against two would've been a decent match, but he wasn't so foolish as to try and face off against the both of them himself, even with Cassius carrying the princess. So the knight, Caulder, went to get more reinforcements. It would be easy enough since the rest of his men were pretty much running rampant in the streets, torching houses and pillaging shops. "I found the princess! Follow me, we'll have fun with her, let's go!" Caulder would manage to get five more Hellhound knights to follow him to where he last saw the princess, though he doesn't have much luck finding her or Cassius at first. But then he hears some townsfolk saying they were going to try and sneak to the temple. This gave the vile knight an equally vile idea as he and the others kidnapped the family and had them lead the knights to the temple. When the eldest daughter tried to resist Caulder stabbed her in the stomach with a dirty piece of broken wood, making it clear that he wasn't asking for their permission. They threw the dying girl into a puddle and forced the remaining family, a mother and her two young children, to guide them to the temple or else share their sister's fate.

---

"Commander Diclonii!"

As the royal knight was tearing his way through the orcs one of his soldiers warned him of Malakaus's ambush. He was easily able to turn his staff around and knock away the half-orc's axe, followed by another blow that would shatter his skull.

When Malakaus's axe was deflected, he followed it off to the side, narrowly avoiding the staff and rolling to his feet. He turned towards his orcs and shouted at them to leave the knight to him; the others would just get in the way. Malakaus smirked at the royal knight but his arms were shaking; his attack nearly knocked Malakaus's axe out of his hands and would've really killed him if Malakaus had chosen to disengage at that moment. Glancing over his weapon Malakaus could see a notable dent in his axe's blade; another blow like that and it could sunder his battleaxe in twain. "Hah... So this is the power of a royal knight! I'll make sure to send your remains back to your family." Orchid stood and flourished his blade, walking in a circle around the knight. "I am Malakaus Ralthavar Vorinclex, son of Aeon Archange, knight of House Trevoste."

The commander didn't care to give this orc filth the satisfaction of his name; as far as he cared this bastard was just another stain on his staff. "Impudent swine! You and your disease riddled mutants should have stayed in your caves and swamps where you belong. There's no victory for you!" Diclonii began to spin his staff again, quickly building momentum as he leaped forward to smash Malakaus's kneecaps off.

"That arrogance suits you. It matches that hollow sense of honor!" Malakaus assumed his stance and quickly took the effort to avoid Diclonii's attacks. He had too; any effort he would try to mount and offense would just make an opening for the knight to crush Malakaus. He had superior reach with his staff, and at the speeds he went even if Malakaus could get the swing first, chances are that staff would hit Malakaus before he could even scratch the knight's armor. But there was one thing Malakaus could take advantage of; all of Diclonii's attacks were coming from one direction due to how he was spinning his staff. Now that there wasn't any distractions Malakaus could easily track the direction his staff was going. If he could time his strike right, he could get a blow in before Malakaus could get struck down.

After a sweep to the legs Diclonii saw the orc try and catch him in between his swings. Had he been younger and less experienced the orc might've actually landed a blow, but Diclonii was a veteran of many battles against enemies more cunning and quick than the orcs. Just as the axe sailed past Diclonii's staff, he suddenly reversed the direction of his swing to smack the axe out of the way again. Using the sudden rotation the commander rotated his body to deliver a mighty shoulder tackle to knock Malakaus down to the ground, followed by a very powerful slam with his staff onto Malakaus's body with enough force that it would shake the ground near the point of impact.

Malakaus hadn't expected the knight to be able to change the direction of his attacks so fast and with so little wind up! There was nothing Malakaus could do as commander Diclonii bashed his full body into Malakaus, sending him flying a fair bit away. Malakaus could only keep tumbling to get out of the knight's reach and eventually rolled onto his feet. He coughed out some blood as stood back up, a smile on his face but with fear in his eyes. He definitely broke a rib or two and it felt hard to breath; he hoped he didn't break a rib in his lungs or worse. Malakaus' armor was also notably dented now to the point it was useless. It was almost completely concave and could very well kill Malakaus if he didn't take it off, which he immediately did.

Looking at the knight, the warlord needed a new approach. This guy was faster than he looks and Malakaus could barely keep up. Without his armor he couldn't risk another frontal assault and come out of it unscathed. But he couldn't drag on this fight for long either; while Malakaus's warriors could no doubt take care of themselves, if any of the mercenary soldiers came by the odds would look very bad for Malakaus. He needed to do something, anything, to get a decisive blow on the royal knight. But what?

And then as Malakaus watched the knight come at him, he knew what he had to do.

"Coward! For all your bluster and bravado, you orcs are all the same. You won't dare face a true knight, and can only prey upon the weak and stalk from the shadows like the vermin you are!" Diclonii roared as she began to build momentum in his weapon again and charged at Malakaus. This time he won't let the warrior get away; he would start with a flurry of blows to keep Malakaus on the defensive, then go to disarm the orc and finish off with a wide angle sweep, one that would knock the orc into the moat as well. Once the orc was dead Diclonii could easily clean up the rest of his forces and focus on razing this town to the ground. "Just die already!"

"Middle Stance, interceptor." Malakaus thought back to his experience learning how to fight. he never had formal training per say; while he watched his father practice he was never allowed to pick up a sword to train alongside him. His skills came from observation and practical application. Compared to other knights Malakaus's form lacked refinement and played more like a savage emulating what a knight does. This isn't untrue. But Malakaus's strength came from the flexibility in which he can apply these techniques without being locked into the usual weaknesses they have; even if he can't make the most of his attacks, he won't sacrifice anything for them either. That's why Malakaus's middle stance is perfect for intercepting attacks; it doesn't give him any chance to put his full strength into an attack but it prevents the enemy from getting any openings onto Malakaus. And sometimes, in a controversial opinion for an orc, you didn't need your full strength to win.

When Diclonii went on the offensive Malakaus intercepted and dodged, parried and generally stayed on the defensive. It wasn't until Diclonii went for the disarming blow that Malakaus struck; with all of his force dedicated to the attack, Malakaus took the blow head on but instead of trying to force a deadlock Malakaus swung his axe against Diclonii. Not against his staff, but against his hand. Malakaus had realized that all of the power from the commander's attacks came from the wide yet swift swings of his staff. But the one point on his staff where there was little to no strength was where his hand held the staff itself; there was where the force was weakest. Using his intercept stance to get close Malakaus was in the perfect spot to smash his axe into Diclonii's hand and ensure he can't try to reverse his decision. With the commander putting everything into this attack Malakaus intercepted his fingers and would cleave them with his blade.

"What!? Impossible!" Diclonii had expected Malakaus to run away as he always did, to try and avoid getting within range of his staff or any danger at all. When he instead got close Diclonii braced up confident that his armor could deflect any blow, but the armor around his gauntlet wasn't strong enough to take the full force of an orc's battleaxe. Diclonii's fingers were cleaved clean off and all of his momentum stopped as he stumbled back and clutched his hand. Diclonii cursed up a storm against Malakaus, Tamberle, Maren, and everything else in the world for putting him into this horrid position. The pain was unbearable and yet Diclonii stayed on his feet. On his knight's honor he could not let himself surrender, not to these beasts!

Taking heavy breaths Malakaus looked at commander Diclonii as he couldn't fight back properly now. With his likely dominate hand destroyed all Malakaus needed to do now was kill him. His body was exhausted but his work wasn't done. Taking on his high stance helmspliter, Malakaus rushed forward to finish the commander off. In a single chop he cleaved Diclonii's head clean off his neck, his helmet rolling around the ground. It was around this time that Malakaus's own forces were routing the mercenaries off, and a huge stone destroyed the last siege tower. There was still a matter of the enemies inside of the city but for now, the orcs had won the battle at the encampment. One of Malakaus's riders came up to him with reports of success so far. "Kyyt. Nefi dni hutihm snemi tyzr dnymi zny wcii ert legi mohi dnia ehir'd e dnhied. Nefi dni wyyd myctuihm kednih pesg dy dni whyrd kedi nihi. Zi mducc nefi lyhi iriluim zudnur." Relaying his commands, Malakaus went over to the dead knight and made sure his remains were covered for now. Savage as the orcs can be, Malakaus at least could try and follow human traditions and make sure the body of a noble is sent back to their respective homes. If Malakaus wanted to create peace between his people and the humans, he must first understand and be willing to respect their culture, and they the same.

With the death of the commander many of the mercenaries abandoned their post. Malakaus’s riders went to cut them down while his foot soldiers secured supplies and the catapults. He sent a runner to have Torkin end the bombardment and remain in standby. Many of the ircs began looting the battlefield but Malakaus roared to get their attention. Their battle wasn’t over yet. Replacing his battered breastplate with one that fit and wasn’t so damaged Malakaus had his warriors rally with him at the front gates. He made his speech short and simple for anyone hearing.

”Our job isn’t done yet. We still have enemies within! But we are not taking this city! Our enemies are these men,” Malakaus raised the corpse of a Hellhound knight. Everyone looked at him and made sure to recognize the armor and uniform. ”Remember this man! Kill anyone who looks like him! If any other human attacks, stop! They fight in fear. They are not your enemies. Take nothing but the lives of our enemies! Let’s go!” Malakaus raised his axe high into the air to rally his warriors for one more charge, giving the orcish war cry which is known within all orcs.

”WAAAAAAGH!”

With a blood curdling roar the orcs charged into the city to hunt down the Hellhound knights. With superior numbers, strength, and courage the orcs would easily hold their own and stomp the depraved brigands to the ground. The orcs left the civilians and city militia largely alone; while they made no effort to assist the wounded or dying they still avoided doing any further harm or any looting within the city. As quickly as they came the orcs left, taking the lives of many Hellhound’s with them. They stripped the battlefield outside the castle walls of valuable plunder, even taking the corpses away. Only Commander Diclonii’s body was left relatively untouched, and Malakaus still chose to take his armor as personal plunder. His remains were put into a box and sent back to the kingdom via a sole survivor who Malakaus has specifically allowed alive for this expressed purpose. He was given a cart, a horse, and a message. Short and to the point: ”Craven King we bring war.”

As for the city of Tamberle, Malakaus didn’t feel the need to have his troops stay nor assist in cleaning up, but he did leave something: a single messenger. One of the few orcs who Malakaus could trust and had a grasp of the human language that was not mangled. He carried Malakaus’s standard with his clan crest and his father’s banner. He was tasked to seek an audience with Maren to open up negotiations as soon as she was able. Meanwhile the rest of his warband returned to their camp for some well deserved rest. They would have a lot more work to do once morning comes.

Morning broke over the city of bridges and the light of the dawn revealed the chaos of the evenings attack. The north garrison had crumbled completely, the broken hexagonal towers reduced to little more than mounds of stone, timber and the slain. Karsusians and city militia alike had fought to a man there and died in the dark save for the light of the ever-burning marsh. The fetid stench of the marsh mingled and mixed with the air of battle, the smell of blood and dead hopes. Smoke drifted skyward as the slain, too numerous to bury were heaped into piles and burned, a grim offering to the gods above.

The walls had taken little in the way of damage. Only a few battlements had been lost, but many of the city militia had fallen to the Karsusians bloodlust. On the north shore, the mercenaries camp had been utterly destroyed and supplies and weapons abandoned. The attacking army had been completely routed, or died at the walls, or fled into the hills.

Maren opened her eyes. The morning light shone threw the shattered stain glass of the temple. She found herself in a makeshift bed of hay and ragged cloth. She winced, pain suddenly surging through her shoulder and back. Then she remembered the city wall, Cassius and the strange warrior woman. The battle. All of it. The orcs. Rushing down the stairs and then...darkness.

Oh...gods. I'm so foolish!

Maren had exhausted herself. Barely slept since the flight from Erlahd Castle. They had spent weeks on the road, always evading her brother's patrols. Gathering those to her cause where they could. Restless nights in tavern stables. Sleeping in the wilderness. She was a princess, not accustomed to this sort of thing. She steeled herself against her bruised shoulder and sat up.

She was in a small chapel, an annex of the larger temple. She was dressed in a light tunic, stained with dirt and ash. Beside her bed lay her tunic and robes, neatly folded. Her dagger rested on top. She snatched the dagger and slowly pulled on her tunic and robes. She looked around the room. A few beds, some occupied, some not were scattered around the room. Beneath the eastern window was a small altar with the idol of Askari, the Healing Mother. "Healing Mother," she whispered sitting up in bed, "Your care will be much needed today," She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the bed beside her.

There was a man. Eyes wide and staring. Dead. He wore fine clothes, a tunic of dyed silk and around his neck was the silver chain of the merchants guild. The man looked east, towards the statue of Askari and the shattered stained glass. He may have been handsome, but the bandaged wounds and the grimace on his face uneased Maren. Maren felt queasy and looked away.

"Viago, my most hated rival," said a weak voice. His words were fluid, with the accent of the distant sea kingdoms. Maren tensed, and gripped her dagger reflexively. In the furthest corner a man sat upright in his own bed. He too wore the merchants chain, but his clothes were simple, dirty and stained.

"Who are you?" said Maren.

"A very fortunate man, M'lady," said the merchant. He pulled his tunic to show Maren a jagged wound, sutured up and already reduced in swelling. "The monks here are very skilled," he said weakly.

"Not for Viago, it would seem," said Maren.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, away from dead Viago and glared at the merchant. "I asked your name sir, not your destiny,"

"My name is Iago Vontclaire," he said. "And you are Maren Trevoste," he said with a grin.

Maren scoffed. "No you are mistaken, my name is..." she began, but was cut short as the chapel door opened and there appeared a monk in dark robes. He said nothing as he entered the chapel, and approached the bed of Viago. He touch his brow, and then the deceased and said a silent word, closing the mans eyes. He lifted the sheet over the body and lowered his head in prayer. Maren and Iago watched in silence.

Annabeth would awaken in the temple of Askari, no longer wearing her armor and her left arm in bandages. She dared not see how much damage that madman’s mace did to her arm, and as she tried to stand up her head hurt a bit too. Seemed like she had suffered more damage to her head than she realized. The smell of the herbs and medicine was bitter but Annabeth didn’t mind it. It was meant to heal her.

She drifted off to sleep and woke up an hour later. By now things were much more active. Annabeth’s own wounds stopped hurting though only enough that she could stand up and move on her own. Her arm was still too hurt to use so she put it into a sling before walking around. As she did so, she took the captain’s sword and lashed it to her swordbelt. She ought to give it back to him when he could.

First thing Annabeth did was get some breakfast. Because of all the wounded the meal was very simple: a bit of bred with a small bowl of broth. Smelled like chicken. Eating her meal quickly Annabeth spotted Maren in a bed a bit away. Asking the sisters of the temple for some more bread and broth Annabeth went over to the female royal. Seeing the monk do a prayer for a recently departed, Annabeth waited until he had finished and left before she approached Maren. ”I see that m’lady is awake. You should eat something and gather some strength back.” Annabeth knelt and held the platter with the bread and soup for Maren.

Cassius was sat down on the steps of the chapel, still in his armor, fidgeting with his dagger. He watched how the light reflected from the metal in an attempt to soothe his frantic thoughts.. As the sun rose that morning, word spread how the orcs and the city guard had successfully killed or driven out the remaining enemies, and the captain's thoughts were a jumbled mess because of it. He was of course relieved it was over, but he couldn't stop imagining how it could have gone wrong.

Maren could have easily been killed on impact as she tumbled down those stairs if she had hit her head wrong or bent her neck in a bad way. That Hellhound Knight could have easily hacked off William's head if not for his being distracted by antagonistic banter and William's quick wit. All of his men could have died easily that night, but Erik had come to inform him that, actually, his men were celebrating. Nursing wounds and battle-shaken, sure, but drinking and celebrating the victory back at their camp nonetheless. It felt too good to be true, which just made Cassius more uneasy-

He stops fiddling with the dagger, instead leaning forward and ruffling his own hair in some vain attempt to release the pent up fear in his chest with a huff.

Skurr walked slowly toward the chapel from the direction of the docks. The fires in the city had loosed enough sparks into the winds that the sails of several vessels had caught. There were few ships that sank for this reason, but several had, and others had suffered significant damage. Skurr had spent the night after the battle helping to douse fires and rescue the people who were stranded on burning ships.

But, that was only after he realized that he couldn't achieve what he had set out to. He had been following the princess and her guards, picking off the enemies chasing them one at a time from behind, but he had never been able to kill the last of them before they called for more. It had been a rough run through bloody streets. When they reached the chapel, he realized that he wouldn't be much use trying to hold a fixed position. He hadn't been able to do enough to really tip the scales at the gate and he hadn't been able to eliminate the pursuers of the princess. He hadn't even been able to... well... it had been a long night for everyone.

He passed the corner of the building and found a crate sitting against the wall. He leaned against it and slowly slumped to sit against it, letting his spear slide until it lay across his lap. His working leathers were covered in blood, soot, and worse. His bare feet were black with all sorts of vileness. His hair was matted with blood from a close call with an axe. It hadn't even hurt until he sat down. But, the throbbing was getting troublesome.

Skurr looked at the chapel without really seeing it. His gaze was blank, exhausted, and lost. He wasn't blind, though. The man sitting on the steps of the chapel, opposite his own resting place, was the very man who had been carrying the Princess to safety. Though, it did take him a moment to recognize him. Oh, gods... his head hurt...