Fenna accepted the drinks from Zell, examining the shot before bringing it to her lips. Manticore spit, how typical of Zell to bring back something weird like this. The liquid was much darker than anything she had seen before and the smell was, well, it was no Jägermeister. The cautious part of her was not yet convinced she wanted to try this. Zell, on the other hand, wasted no time and downed the shot. She could see the regret almost instantly and it would have been funny if she didn't have the same drink in front of her. Clive too downed the shot and seeing how the big man reacted didn't leave her with much confidence. The sane part of her wanted to refuse, put the drink aside and forget about it. All the evidence pointed to it being a very bad idea. But... what was life if you couldn't take a chance sometimes? "Here goes nothing," she muttered and brought the glass up, tilted her head and downed the liquid. It burned down her throat, shot needles into her head and left a vile taste on her tongue. "Gah," she sputtered and she coughed. "Sodeju," she croaked. "That'sstrong." She coughed again and croaked. "Never...again..."
Next time, Fenna decided, next time Zell would come back with something that sounded dubious and smelled dubious, she would not drink it. But she was glad she did, because this was something they would remember forever.

It was a few hours after midnight.

Captain Hrond Lewell, Chieftan of the Luna Clan and Head of the Elite Strikeforce stood deep under the tree line, one clawed hand on the gnarled bark of an ashwood. His nightvision pierced the darkness easily as he watched the city of Valhiem. He could smell the fear and his blood boiled in anticipation of the coming slaughter.

His team were a seperate detachment from the main force, boasting sheer quality over quantity. Every one of his number were easily as strong as any adventurer in that city, which was exactly what he needed for the task. Their job was get inside the city on their own, causing confusion and mayhem. They would spread through the streets, using howls to coordinate their pack movements as they sniffed out Source Crystal Bearers and used their tactics to single out and assassinate the adventurers in Valhiem's defense.

And if they could find and kill any of those who smelled like they came from another world, then there would be grand rewards in their future.

Hrond eventually left his position and went further back into the woods where his unit were. All were sharpening their swords, axes and gauntlets. All except one of them: Zacharius, Drinker of Divine Blood.



Hrond looked upon the Elite Demi-Jinn Hybrid with distaste but also a measure of caution. The wolfman did not like that he had to bring along a warrior who wasn't born of the Luna Clan. The Source Crystal User wasn't even a Wolfman. He just sat there, silent and still, but Hrond could sense his anticipation all the same.

In spite of lacking a Source Crystal, Hrond was an exceptional specimen who was more than a match for any adventurer of any class. In addition to his amazing physical attributes, his racial abilities included being able to use a sort of Identify Magic through simply his sense of smell. In sizing up Zacharius, Hrond believed he could take him. Zacharius would surely have the edge in terms of sheer power and Source, but Hrond was confident in his own speed and cunning. He would like to put it to the test one day, but now was not the time.

Now was the eve of battle. The signal would come soon.

They'd been warned. By James Sirius who had the displeasure of knowing Saladin well. By Adam Philips who had let them know that Saladin might well know his plans were leaked. They'd been warned to stay vigilant and closely watch for any tricks that the attackers may try to pull. But Saladin was too clever.

The assault came two days earlier than originally planned. At 4AM during a lull in catapult fire. This much was to be expected. What was not expected was just how close to the River Eisen that the assault would be. Saladin had pitched his camp on the northeastern side of city and ravaged Greenglow Woods for resources, but the siege towers he was constructing for the assault were being built seemingly to attack along the longer more easterly parts of the city walls. One by one the siege towers sprung up over the days, until there were 10 and counting. But the towers were constructed cleverly to be able to be disassembled with ease so that Saladin could reassemble them anywhere he pleased. And that is exactly what he did.

The Dark Domain ritual magic had maintained a shadowy illusion of the towers once night time came. The towers disassembled. Another shadow shield was thrown up to cover the ruse. And now suddenly there were 10 seige towers and a wheeled battering ram approaching in staggered lines, with the River Eisen at their western flank, heading right for the wall and North Gate.

.

The sound of Valhiem's siren filled the air.

.

Commander Thorn's fortified position on Citadel Mountain's north eastern cliffside began to populate with Valhiem's High Command.

.

The city began to stir in the darkness.

.

Kleon, a powerful Spirit Mage in High Command, fired a giant magical flare into the air like a firework, exploding into a giant ball of light that instantly illuminated the city with brilliant white light.

.

And what could be seen in the sky, soaring towards the city was horrifying.

.







Ghouls began falling from the sky onto the northeastern quadrant of the city. The roofs of buildings, the streets, the Mage Support Platforms all began being hit with the thud and the splunking sound of corpse-flesh crashing upon it.

The assault had finally begun. The Southeast quadrant of the city that was due to start being evacuated after sunrise... the citizens there were now in a vulnerable position. Ghouls roamed the very streets where the Valhiem Garrison Blocks of 100 were designated to form up, organize and make for the walls. Chaos had erupted in the city. And outside, the siege towers and battering ram advanced.

The fight against extinction was now or never.

The platform was wider than he thought it would be, it also felt more narrow than he thought it would feel. It was the nerves he could recognize, for more than a week they had been preparing for this but for some reason, his dumb ass was caught blindsided the moment the alarms sounded to actually participate in the siege. It was funny, this wasn't his first siege but it was the first time he was on the defender's side, he couldn't say he was fond of it, unlike the nervous excitement that filled your body when you were an attacker for these last hours there were only anxiety and long periods of time sitting in silence, vigilant but with attention wavering every so often.

Already he had seen some people start to chafe, starting arguments or having quiet breakdowns in a corner.

If Zell was here he would have likely cracked a joke and improved the morale, if Mac or Fenna they would know what to say, if Kass or Clive were here their mere presence would reassure others, if Alisson was here she would probably share some obscure trick to calm the nerves.

But it was him here and he was speechless.

That is until the dead started raining from above.

He watched as the beast flew through the sky, a "Corpse Dropper" half his mind cursed, to have one of those things here... was Saladin really pulling some cards from his sleeve this early? No, it wasn't the time to think about that.

Instead, he grabbed his anchor and swung it at the closest ghoul, he had been too slow to create a barrier around his platform but he could correct the issue "To arms! Melee fighters kill the ghouls before they cause more damage! Light Domain bring down the Corpse Dropper! Earth and water target the troops! Everyone else go for the towers!"

The momentum was firmly in Saladin's grasp and they wouldn't be able to switch for now.

As much as he hated it the best option for now was to wait, this was just the opening move

What is that noise, his mind wandered for a moment. His body was too late to react, and then he realised it was the alarm. “No… Not now,” he told himself, but he knew deep down inside that there would have never been a good time for the battle to start. There would have always been more they could have done to prepare for the siege.

He donned his equipment and armed himself with his tower shield and claymore. He rushed out towards the tavern door and ran towards the chaos near the NorthEast section.

A whole swarm of ghouls, running and toppling over roofs and knocking over garbage bins and chairs, stands crashing to the floor. Hissing filled the surrounding space. They were everywhere. As he closed in on the enemy, a ghoul jumped onto his back from a crossing alleyway, marking the first combat of the day. The magelight brightened up the streets, making it visually as if daylight struck from the sun.

Barracker felt for a grip of an arm of the ghoul and swung the ghoul full pelt towards another ghoul attacking a party member of Silver Arrow from his rear. It was the tiefling, Gordon Watson, Silver Arrow’s archer. As they slayed the ghouls that they both were occupied with, they exchanged a nod and then set off in opposite directions both covering different areas of fighting in the streets.

Barracker’s goal was to get to his men and start the shield wall.

As Barracker got to the NorthGate, he was met by his second in command of ‘The Bats,’ Warren Burns. “Fuck, finally, lets get this started.” A loud confidence from Warren bolstered The Bats.

“Indeed, we shall ready ourselves,” he replied and everyone ran up the stairs to take position on the wall. Once they were in a tight formation, Barracker began shouting loud for everyone to hear. “Stick to the fundamentals and play your part.” The Bats switched into shield wall stance. Barracker stood, filling in the very end, right position of the shield wall, a position he could give tactical instructions from and as well get stuck into the action, making sure of the strength and health of the wall also. He gave Warren the same position on the second row and then bashed the hilt of his claymore against his shield. “I have faith in you all! Your training has come a long way, now for the real test. Keep in mind your loved ones! Keep in mind your neighbours! Keep in mind your priest, your councilmen and shopkeepers! This makes us strong, we are not forgotten in all this. We are the wall between them and this horde!”

Tag team match. In the red corner... tiredness and a hangover. In the blue corner... adrenaline and fear.

It was a one sided slaughter that may have been the quickest match of all time.

The moment the city sirens reached Zell's ears, his eyes shot open. His skin tingled from the sheer speed that his body's internal systems had gone from a state of sleep to hyper-awareness and a racing heart. He got up and sat on the edge of his bed, taking a second to try and calm his heartrate - control his breathing. It didn't do much good, so he jumped up and hastily suited up for action.

Zell was out of his room around the same time of some of his friends. He clapped the first one he came into contact with on the shoulder and nodded, seamlessly turning to rush down the stairs. Barracker was in front. He clasped the vampire on the shoulder as they made for the exit of The Mended Drum and started running through the streets.

"This is us, guys!" he shouted as they ran. "We've got this! They don't know who they're fuckin with!" Booted feet pattered the cobblestones, the group staying together until the point where their individual assignments would force them to split. "Stay swift, bro," were his words for Barracker as they parted at an intersection. "Be careful. Later," or some form there of for the others, no time for a deeper and more caring message. He could only hope that they were used to his ways enough that they'd know just how much they all meant to him.

He was on his own by the time he met any resistance. Zombies. Even on his approach, more were dropping out of the sky, somehow still alive and struggling up to their feet to join in chaos. So that's what were falling out of that thing, he realised now. He didn't miss a step and sprinted straight into the action, drawing his sword off his back. He left the flimsy lightweight buckler hooked on his hip. The shield was purely to block magic, completely useless against physical attacks and therefore pointless at the moment, but it was light enough to be of minimal annoyance on his belt, ready to punch his left arm down into the hand hold the moment he needed it.

He fought his way down the street among allies, the bright white light coming from the flare above helping him keep his bearings as he progressed towards The Lions' meeting point. In spite of the intensity in his heart and mind, the technical difficulty of the foes before them was pitiful. They were slow. And if not slow, then straight lined and single-minded. Easy work. And yet it was wildly difficult on the stamina and the senses. It didn't matter how much knowledge of melee combat and field battle that the Source Crystal forced into his lexicon, it was all just theory and could never compare to the real deal. He had to control himself. He was expending too much energy on nerves alone. But the urgency to find his fellow Lions and rally them around him was too great.

Once he was only a single street away from the meeting point, he began to see familiar faces. "Lions!"

Bit by bit, he picked them up - "Lioooons!" - his group slowly growing as they made it to a crossroads. Here there were a large number of enemy, but ruthlessly, Zell ordered his men to leave the other soldiers to deal with the mob. It had to be done. Sure, the defenders on this intersection were outnumbered, but these dumbass zombies were just a distraction. Just here to cause chaos.

The real threat was the danger that Valhiem's walls were not adequately defended. If Saladin managed to take the walls without losing the absolute maximum number of his troops then Valhiem would most certainly fall. Every layer of fortification had to be utilised to the fullest. And anyway; if Commander Thorn wanted the Centre of the Defensive Line to stay in the streets, then it would have to come down the chain of command. "Move now!"

The looks in the eyes of some of his soldiers was hurt as Zell forced them to follow him down the much safer street, away from the fighting, but the hardened eyes of a couple of his vets gave him heart. "Liooons! To meee!"

They arrived at the meeting point and formed up. Ten ranks of ten was easy enough to count and the Lions held their position to wait for the stragglers. Zell knew he couldn't wait all day, but luckily none of his soldiers forced his hand. Everyone showed up and the made for the wall.

...

Five ranks of twenty. Higher troop quality in the front ranks and the flanks. No archers in his particular block. He'd been given the assignment of a pure melee centurion, flanked on either side by The Pits and The Scarabs who would be firing at will once present and ready. The Lions stood looking over the battlements, among the first of the blocks on the walls. The view was awe-striking, the sheer scale of the enemy host was so grand that each would have to swivel his head almost 180 degrees to see it all. Amongst the slowly advanced siege towers were just fucking MASSES of baddies. A million glinting metal blades of various shapes and sizes. Armour. So much armour. Monsters. Those fucking dino-cavalry. All sorts.

Zell was lost for words. For a time, he'd forgotten his place. He wasn't captain of The Lions. He was plain old Zell Brooks, stood in awe with tunnel vision as fire, ice, earth and air and plenty of arrows were traded between the mages of both sides. "Christ," he muttered shakily under his breath. He didn't even realise he was shaking his head slightly, his thoughts betrayed by his subconcious body language. His men and women stood faced front, so hopefully none noticed that their captain had frozen. Still... they were waiting for some words of encouragement from their boastful, boistrous beacon of courage, who usually carried himself like he was a legend of the Mythic Age.

And then...

Zell's eyes flared as a big firebolt came like a comet toward their position.

"WATCH-" there was not even time enough time for Biff in the front rank to get out the warning.



Zell appeared on the battlements with his buckler up, a millisecond before the firebolt struck, angling his shield in such a way to take as much off the punch as possible. There was an explosive crackle as the bolt was deflected in a high arc way over everyone. Zell was blown off the battlements into his men who didn't have any time or choice in catching him. The collective strength of a dozen or so Lions managed to cushion Zell's momentum and thankfully no one was knocked flying off the wall or anything. The firebolt went soaring into the background and landed on a distant empty section of wall south of them. Another stroke of fortune.

Zell's entire left arm was numb and shivering. He was breathing heavy and he was still yet to fully come to the realisation that his efforts had paid off.

"Captain," Chip said in a tone that spoke of great awe and gratitude. There was a similar sentiment from others as Zell was helped to his feet.

Thank fuck for that, Zell thought. He could not, under any circumstances, take casualties before The Lions had gotten some kills of their own to bolster their morale. It was terrifying enough just having to stand there and wait for those siege towers, with plenty of time to think about just how daunting the task in front of them was.

He felt like his arm was about to fall off, but thought of a great way to hide his pain. Aswell as capitalise on this close call.



...And the siege towers rolled closer.

The alarm sounded. Fenna jolted up. At first she was confused about what was happening, it was too soon, it couldn't be the attack. But what enemy would stick to their schedule if they could use the element of surprise? She cursed under breath as she quickly put on her armour, grabbed her bow and spear and rushed out of the room. Zell was there — of course he was — and clasped her shoulder. He nodded to her and she nodded back. Of course he shouted words of encouragement, Fenna wasn't sure if he really believed it, but it was good to know that at least one of them was confident. Or, in the very least, acted confident. It helped. Sil joined her and flew alongside her.

As she ran to the appointed place, horrors rained down on the town. Ghouls. Fenna looked up to see a creature fly overhead and for a moment thought about shooting an arrow, but she didn't even know where the weak spot would be. Instead, she bashed in the skull of one ghoul and stabbed another as she moved through them. every ghoul that came on her path met one of the ends of her spear. City militia approached to deal with the ghouls and Fenna saw fire balls and lightning bolts being fired at flying creature.

Along the way their group split up, but Falcons joined her. When she reached her appointed location a part of the Falcons were already in position. Others arrived and quickly took place. When Sil soared over their heads, they cheered. As Fenna gave them a moment to assemble, Fenna climbed up the battlements to see what the situation was, and cursed. So many enemies, siege towers approaching, and they needed to somehow win this? They had to, it was fight or die, and Fenna was not about to die in some far-away land.

'All right,' she said, turning around. 'We'll have to give it everything we got.' Her eyes moved over her troops. Some people were missing. Were they late? Killed by ghouls? Had they deserted and fled the city? She turned to her second in command. 'Make sure to write down who didn't join us,' she told him, and after receiving a confirmation she turned to the troops again. 'As we planned. Arrows first, when they get too close the archers fall back and we'll use spears, when they get within reach we use swords. We will fight them with every step they take. Get ready!'

There really wasn’t more time.

Between the work at Golden Tree Park and the lumbermen politely forcing Adam to a celebratory dinner for his newest achievement, he wasn’t able to meet MacKensie like he wanted. And now, the siege had begun. No time for searching.

4 AM wasn’t an especially early time for the Druid, who was an early riser anyway. He went down to the lobby of the Drum, wanting to talk to the Ranger in case he didn’t make it, but she was nowhere to be found. Nobody from Second Chance was there, in fact. That or he was just too distracted by what was to come to notice. That notion annoyed him; it would not do to be unaware when it was time to fight. So briefly, yet intently, the man meditated. Whatever his personal feelings were at this time, they would not overcome his desire to help the people of Valheim.

Immediately running towards his assigned position after that, Adam held some acorns in his hand. Seeing ghouls here and there on the way, the red-eyed man had a fully-grown oak tree for each one, splatting them into oblivion. This was certainly a different variant of the phrase “hit and run” - there was no time to linger, not when there were bigger fish to fry in the northeast part of the city. Or in this case, a monstrous bat-like thing that was dropping enemies from the sky. Strangely, the first thing he felt was pity towards the creature, clearly suffering in some way. Perhaps this was like putting down a sick farm animal, in an odd way. And on the bright side, James was approaching the platforms there also, swinging his anchor and shouting commands at his men.

To arms! Melee fighters kill the ghouls before they cause more damage! Light Domain bring down the Corpse Dropper! Earth and water target the troops! Everyone else go for the towers!

The American knew he wasn’t Light Domain, but he did know how he could help stop the abomination. He also knew he formally had command over some troops - a mage of each Domain and a few melee soldiers - though he felt less qualified on that topic. An 18-year old fresh out of high school was not going to kill others with his inexperience.

“Mages, follow his commands,” Adam said, gesturing to James. “Soldiers, protect me please.” Basic orders only, yes. These were grown men and women, they didn’t need to be micromanaged. Now he could focus on what he was good at; plant magic. Without saying anything else, the spellcaster held his hand up, carefully aiming at the Corpse Dropper. Once he felt confident, he fired a Natural Energy Beam at the large creature.

Whatever the result of that was, he would then focus his attention on the slightly more conventional forces invading Valheim. Specifically, the parts of them made out of wood. His “nature sense” gave him an advantage in this way, knowing what vulnerabilities of each structure to target specifically. A siege ladder? Snapped in half, leading to troops falling to their deaths. More advanced siege towers? Wheels slid off to stop them in place. Flaming logs fired by catapults towards the good guys? Stopped mid-air and sent back to their place of origin. Some of this took more time and effort than others, but these efforts would hopefully help the city stay safe.

Peter Harathian sat squat in the dank, dark tunnel below the city. His mind was swirling with anticipation and frustration. For the past four days, he was stuck in here, waiting for the enemy to finally show their cards. He missed the sun, the smell of booze and coffee, of fresh air. But his role was an important one, probably one of the most important ones if he had to figure. The boss had come up with a clever plan, a bold one, that might just get him killed. He grinned to himself under his hood for what must have been the tenth time that day.

A faint shrill of a siren echoed down his tunnel, interrupting his musings. It was time. Olaf stirred across from him as did the rest of his chosen men. They all wore brown rags and cloaks, obscuring their outline and hopefully blending in with their surroundings of where they were meant to go. Olaf grunted.

"Early. That's worrisome," he said in his usual matter-of-fact tone. Pete shrugged as he checked his satchel and weapons.

"Not so bad. Was scared we'd be breakin out in the day. Afta bein in this tunnels like, we'd be blind as babes steppin out. Best slows us down, worse leaves us about as helpless." Pete said with his usual upbeat tone and rye grin. It was true though, what both of them had said. Pete was worried that the town may be more vulnerable than planned. It didn't matter now, they had only three outcomes. Come back alive, be in the bowels of some abomination, or come back to a dead town.

The group moved further down the tunnel before reaching the filled-in entrance. Carefully, Pete disarmed the trap he had set with Alison. What a terrifying bit of genius this trap was, and Pete couldn't help but feel pride as he slowly disarmed his trap. After the wires were safely away, he and Olaf began digging, with Pete muttering a count. "24... 25... 26..." he muttered before they both eventually came to a stop. Only five more shovel loads away before they gradually would start to break out. They sat in complete silence, the battle raging distantly overhead.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Finally, Olaf solemnly nodded to Pete and spoke up as he readied his shovel. "If we survive attacking that camp and wipin it off this gods forsaken world. I'm proposing to Kerensa."

Pete nearly stumbled at that. He blinked twice at Olaf then slowly shook his head. "'fraid that's not gonna be in the cards Olaf, Keren is likes the boss. Men and women like em are married to their dreams like. Their goals. They're not the kinds to die old on a farm with grandkids around em. Till death do em apart, and them dreams and drive tend to live lots longer. No ole man, you best findin else who's got a thin for short bald men" he said as his shovel dug into the loose earth in front of them. Olaf glared for a moment but sighed and started shoveling alongside him.

As Olaf did, he grumbled,

"Not like we live much longer either."

---

Irregular warfare is chaotic, multidimensional, and yet a unity of effort. From air to ground, from back alleys to the very halls of power, an irregular war is waged through fronts both seen and unseen. Thus, to fight an irregular war, one must have the unity to cover those dimensions, to know those halls, those alleys, and be able to maneuver without issue through them.

This was the life Alison had been devoted to for over ten years. Her wars were never as simple as "us versus them". Nothing as unambiguous as total annihilation. They were deals with those the public would think enemies, the targeting of what would have otherwise been friends. The enemy was in those halls, those backrooms. In the wires, in the crowds, whispering and poisoning the well while blaming their targets for it all.

That was the war she fought.

And now, she was faced with the other side of it.

A sickening sucking noise came from the ghoul as Alison drew back her dagger. The creature staggered forward, snarling as if the stab was merely a slight, before finally collapsing as the timer ran out on the wretched thing's life. The sound of flesh being cut echoed behind her as Kerensa finished off her ghoulish opponent. Alison sighed, looking around the street that had been cleared. It had come as both a shock and something familiar, and she had dearly wished someone had told her. The enemy air-dropping zombies into the city was harrowing and genius. Chaos raged around her, as the garrison became distracted with the threat. Civilians ran in terror for their lives only caused further bottlenecks and confusion. No matter what, she had her priorities. This would have to be dealt with by the soldiers.

"Let's get to the observation post," Alison said and darted down the street with Kerensa close behind.

Reaching the building, it stood only slightly taller than the others and otherwise seemed unassuming. But this "observation post" had become a secret bastion for those of the Thieves Guild. A few select buildings had been quietly modified at her behest. Bricks were discretely removed and turned into firing slits for ambush. Cloth-covered holes hiding spy glasses. The bottom floor was filled with a series of traps, and secret roof hatches were added for escape.

Alison and Kerensa entered one of those secret hatches in the Southeast where the enemy was beginning their assault. She peered through the glass and saw the chaos below. Militias fought with as much ferocity and desperation as their undead foes. That's the thing she hated about wars like these. When faced with utter annihilation, there is no room for schemes beyond killing the enemy. Everyone knew what the result would be, so like cornered animals, people would begin to either shut down or fight like mad.

She saw the Second Chance members manning their stations where they could, fighting a desperate fight. She watched in astonishment as Zell deflected a flaming bolt of magic, saving the garrison and himself on the wall.

This was the hard part.

Taking a deep breath, she began to scan again, watching, waiting.

From the whispers in her ear, she knew the shadows of the enemy were coming for her comrades, but with some luck, they would have failed to notice that they were the ones being hunted.

Alison only hoped that trump card she had been given at the Academy would be enough.

Why? Of all nights to fall asleep in the halls of the Citadel... it had to be the very same night that the assault would begin. MacKensie pushed through the crowds of citizens and militia in the hall, ignoring the calls for calm and order. One hand was up, leading her way, a gentle push here, a turn of the shoulders there. Her other hand held - tightly to her side - her weapons belt, hanging from which was her two crossbows, dagger and pouch of bolts. Strangely, she felt the missing weight of her cloak that she'd given to the boy. Perhaps it was just her paranoia and caution in the wake of battle, making her feel naked without it, or in some way lesser. No matter. As long as she had a weapon - any weapon - her required presence as a leader bid that she hurry.

She barged through the door without stopping to close it, out into the cool night air, finally clipping her belt around her waist and adjusting it so that her weapons were at the ready. She hadn't any idea what time it was. She only knew how far she was from the Rabbits' rendezvous point, which was to say; Extremely far. About as far away as one could be, in fact. The streets atop Citadel Mountain were chaotic as mages, guards and the citadel soldiers rushed around. MacKensie was about to stop someone for directions when the light of the flare shooting into the sky caught her eye. "That way," she said aloud to herself.

There was no time to use the long-winded roads to get down from the mountain. She made a beeline northeast, running as fast as she could, making her way between buildings, climbing walls, jumping gates, until she found herself looking out onto the city, a steep drop before her. She stopped to briefly scan the vista ahead and the mountainside below, then burst into action.

Straight down to the city.

It started with a few jumps down the slopes to outcroppings of rock, but quickly became a straight sprint - almost vertical - down the cliffside. Pure footspeed, mixed with some smart skipping and face-down abseiling with her magical grapplehook - This is what kept her stuck to the mountain. But defying gravity this way only minimized her acceleration, it did not stop it completely, and soon she was approaching freefall speeds that even her feet could not keep up with. And so - in the blink of an eye and a single step - she bent her knees, planted her feet and sprung from the cliffside into a soaring nose-dive.

One hundred feet above the rooftops? Two hundred feet? Five hundred feet? Who knew? Whatever it was, it was a distance that quickly vanished when falling through the air. With pinpoint precision and timing, MacKensie fired the beam/wire of blue light at the corner of a tall building, turning her fall straight downward into a curving swing that took all the speed and momentum of freefall and turned it northbound, her grapplehook releasing so she could fire again, ahead, as she soared through the air, and swung again. She had truly become like Spiderman.

Don't think... feel.

This was the mantra that allowed her to manage this new sense of speed, agility, reflexes and perception. Thinking rationally was far too slow to govern her body when dealing with the upper limits of the magical gauntlet's function. It had to be instinctive. The magical grapplehook and beam/wire was attached to her very nervous-system. To try and use it like a tool would be like having to actually think to control one's breathing - it was simply untenable. But to master it as an extension of herself was what made MacKensie Trydant no ordinary Ranger. No ordinary adventurer. She was a hero from another world.

Don't think... feel.

The northern wall ahead was reached in a few swings - between each swing she sailed a great distance too. And as she sailed, she managed to look to her right and see the chaotic magical battle that had begun along the northeastern sections of the city walls. The northmost, tallest building was when she fired her grapplehook to the roof and held on tight as she swung around the corner, the centrifugal force threatening to tear her left arm from her socket. Her body found the eastward vector she was looking for and the grapplehook released, sending her once more sailing through the air at high speed toward her destination.

Not long now...

For the part of Gregory Grimes, Sergeant First Class and second-in-command of The Rabbits… he was keeping the soldiers in line and cohesion. The Rabbits moved around the vicinity of the rendezvous point, keeping clear the streets of any ghouls that hot-dropped into the area.

When the blue breeze that was the captain was the one to appear from above, Grimes was quick to act.

“Ten Hut!” he shouted powerfully. “Captain's here!” MacKensie ran over to the block and Grimes anticipated what she was about to say from the look on her face. He cut her off before she could apologise. “Your orders, Captain.”

She stumbled over her apology and he shot her a glare - one so complex with warmth and well-meaning, but urgency and demand. She seemed to get the message and hardened her expression.

“To the walls!” was the command. “Let’s go! Remember your positions!”

Grimes couldn’t help but feel a note of pride in his heart for the strength and steel of her voice. The hero from another world had always had it in her, but Grimes had helped to bring it out of her in their time together. She was ready to lead them. And with her innate power, he had some hope that they might just survive this threat.

But he was an experienced soldier and one who had already seen battle in this war. He knew that the odds were slim. This would not be easy.

.

Power beams of white light began to fire up from the mage platforms, among them the powerful Sprit Gun of James. The Corpse Dropper could not dodge them all. The giant bat-like creature was technically not an Undead, but it's flesh was rotten like one and it's body was powered with the Dark Domain's necromantic magic. This made it just as vulnerable to Light Domain attacks as any Undead.

The Corpse Dropper swayed and strafed in the air to dodge but several beams were direct hits, burning straight through the wings and weak belly bursting out of the other side. The Corpse Dropper screeched as it felt a new level of agony and it almost fell out of the sky.

Adam Philips choosing to delay his attack in order to aim carefully was worth it, as the creature turned onto a flight path towards the mage platforms and made Adam's attack considerably easier to aim. And now it was injured. Adam's Natural Energy Beam fired between the 1st and 2nd wave of Light Beams, and the Earth Domain user's attack was easy to spot as something different, not pure white light but a kaliedascope of colours, pure energy. It hit Corpse Dropper in the head and took off an ear along with a slice of skull.

Then came the 2nd wave from the Clerics and Spirit Mages. More direct hits, taking chunks out of the Corpse Dropper and burning up the ghoulings inside it's belly. The Corpse Dropper was full of holes and barely hanging onto life as it came crashing down onto abandoned buildings in the northeast sector of Valhiem. Loud cheers filled the air and many of the defenders raised their fists in triumph.

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The singing rose above the din of battle all of the blocks across the central line joined in the song, replacing the word, 'Lions' with their own name. The Pits, the Scarabs, the Snakes, the Horses, the LoneStars and more. Such was the power of the message that morale in the Centre of Valhiem's defense rose considerably. Many hands that held bows became steadied by courage. Some deaths caused by the magical battle, instead of hurting morale, only served to strengthen the resolve of the soldiers who witnessed the deaths of their friends, filling them with a desire for revenge and the grit of determination. Zell Brooks, with one simple song, had stengthened the Centre considerably.



Commander Thorn's voice suddenly echoed like thunder in the sky and there was no person in the entire city who could not hear him. Up on Citadel Hill, High Command were watching the battle with spyglasses, commmunicating troop movements to the central figure who was at the very top of the Chain of Command. Commander Thorn.

When Commander Thorn inhaled deeply to shout, the special enchantment cast upon him would activate and the faint outline of a giant magical megaphone appeared in the air several feet in front of him, the shimmering Source that outlined the megaphones shape big enough to be seen from distance. And when he shouted, his voice boomed across the city and even the fields all the way to Saladin's camp.



The ram was blasted with fire arrows and fire magic. It was built not just with wheels so it could be pushed, but a hut-like roof so it could protect the orcs who pushed it. In spite of the fire-proofing hides and magic that covered the ram, there was simply too much fire from the defenders when counting the dozens of fire arrows on top of the magical attacks. The battering ram set on fire and the roaring flames spread all over it, burning the orcs who ran out from blazing siege machine. The ram had been brought to a halt and burned to disfunction before the enemy could extinguish the flames.

On the right wing that included elite archer units like Fenna's Falcons and MacKensie's Rabbits, many bows loosed arrows upon the Dark Elven Screamers. Screamers were a female unit of elite warriors that dual-wielded long daggers and wore zero armour. Had they been allowed to ascend the wall, they would have been deadly in close quarters. The kind of fighters that could win a close-quarters skirmish all on their own. But they were vulnerable to arrow fire and that's exactly what they got. The archery training drills that Fenna and MacKensie had made sure their blocks did everyday were paying off as elite units of the enemy were cut down.



Along with James Sirius' direction of Air Domain Users and the help of Adam Philips, now the Centre of the Defensive Line added the power of their arrows and bolts to the counter fire against the siege towers.

When Adam managed to de-wheel one of the towers and temporarily bring it to a halt, everyone saw the weakness and turned upon the siege tower. Whirling clouds of condensed air, along with lightning attacks barraged the tower, weakening the structural integrity of machine. Fire arrows forced the attackers down low to deal with the flames instead of getting the wheels back on. Eventually, the tower came down and another triumphant cheer filled the air.

But this was the only tower to come down. Of the other 9 towers, the advanced construction and Counter Spell enchantments were enough to fend off damage that would otherwise immoblize them. The 1st 3 towers reached the walls and iron doors fell open onto the wall, releasing armoured orcs and goblins within, aswell as other unit types from Saladin's army.

Close-quarters combat on the walls had started.

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The defence had started promisingly well. But in the southeast, where city guards had managed to clear the ghouls and begin evacuating the last of the citizens to Citadel Mountain, something terrible happened.

An explosion went off at the South Gate of Valhiem, making a breach.



A combination of stealth from the wolfmen and a lack of manpower in the south meant that Captain Hrond Lewell's elite taskforce was able to go undetected for long enough to make their move. Now Hrond howled as he led his team into the city.

Screams of terror sounded and people ran. The city guards closest to the gate ran to meet the threat but they were no match for the Armoured Wolfmen. Hrond and Zacharius in particular would effortlessly cut down any defenders without breaking stride.

The citizens were defenceless for the moment.