Biff, Chip and even the youngster, Kipper had stayed close throughout the start the fighting. It was a hectic affair, but a general pattern could be surmised: Biff would engage the enemy in front (usually an orc,) head-on. Chip look to stab them while Biff had their attention. Kipper would stand behind and make sure no goblins moved in to try to do to Biff what Chip was doing to the orcs.

It was working decently well.

On the whole, The Lions had started exemplary. Captain Zell, the Valhiem veterans, Biff and Thomas, and a surviving soldier from Dantuin, fallen city in the east, called Jordash... these four were pushing at the front, right in the thick of things, leading The Lions against the first siege tower's orcs and goblins. Everyone else was moving up behind, staying in formation, keeping flanks covered and conservatively stabbing at the enemy. When the ladders hit, many worked together to successfully kill the climbers as they came and kept their section of the wall clear.

Thomas fell after taking a brutal hit to his side, under his arm. He was dragged back into the safety of the crowd, coughing up blood and leaking profusely. Alive - thank the Quinity - but he was out of the battle for good, without doubt. Jordash, Biff and Captain Zell maintained the tip of the spear with courage and prowess, while the least experienced Lions (minus Kipper) helped get Thomas off the wall and to the foot of a mage-platform ladder, where they could call for a healer.

For those near the orc heavies, the fighting was fierce and relentless, with no end in sight. Chip was already breathing hard as he stepped in and out, his sword-arm burning with lactic acid as he did the same move over and over, looking for an opening to critically wound Biff's opponent so that Biff could finish the job quickly. There were few weak points in the orc's heavy armour, but Chip had come to learn that the neck and also under the arm was a sure bet for his sword to meet flesh. Chip's throat was sore from the constant shouting of vile insults that everyone was taking part in - something that kept the anger flowing and the fear at bay. Biff was amazing - skilled and disciplined, taking down enemy after enemy. Chip knew that his friend was strong, but seeing him here brought a new level of respect for the big guy who was usually pretty laid back and affable.

"Take that you twat!" Kipper shouted as he shuffled around and caught a goblin trying to sneak attack Biff. The young Lion's sword sliced deep on the forearm of the goblin who reeled back and screamed. Biff saw the wounded goblin and killed him outright.

"Nice one, Kipper!" Chip shouted, eyes darting around the chaotic scene as he stuck doggedly to his tactic.

Captain Zell was utterly astounding. Chip could barely see him, the swordsman had pushed so far into the enemy. But he could definitely hear him. Shouting, roaring and grunting, non-stop - his green cloak fluttering and black sword swishing everywhere as he cut down a record-number of orcs and goblins.

As the minutes wore on, The Lions began to take more casualties. Men, elves and dwarves who were fighting for the Witch Queen started to get a footing on the wall. Another siege tower had docked at the wall, not far from them, preventing the allied archers from supporting their plight. Chip didn't see any Lions get killed but he guessed that someone must've died. Ten-fifteen of their block had been ushered out of the fighting and down the wall for healing. Their was action all around them now. The intensity had ramped up.

...

From the original siege tower that the Lions were fighting, something huge was struggling to get out, crouch walking and using a hand on the roof to pull itself through. As it's head got clear, it finally appeared and rose to it's full commanding height. It looked every bit of seven feet tall. Every bit of it. Head to toe in full-plate, helmet n all. It's sword was fucking ridiculous, making a greatsword look like a skinny toothpick. Zell thought the gangplank was going to break under the weight of the bastard. The Englishman was pretty sure he heard the wood crack.

The enemy around Zell backed off to let this monstrosity into the fight. It was... an orc... Zell guessed. But maybe half-ogre? Or just a fucking mutant? An peripheral orc tried to get a free shot at Zell who was awaiting the first move from the monster. Zell managed to parry the attack and throw and few swings in return, pushing the orc onto it's backfoot. And then Zell's attention was taken by the monstoristy again, as it engaged Jordash Sigmar, a reliable soldier, the first clash of blades knocking Jordash's sword flying out of his hand and over the battlements.

"No-!"

Zell barely got his word out as Jordash took a grizzly downwards strike from the giant orc. The man from Dantuin who had survived not only the fall of the eastern city, but skirmish after skirmish to protect the refugees and get them to Valhiem... he was dead instantly.

"Kipper get back!" Biff shouted as he tentatively stepped to take the place of Jordash.

Zell stopped him, pulling him back by the shoulder, eyes on the monster the whole time. This would be his fight. Fighting slowed almost to a complete stop in the immediate area. Everyone around was still fighting but those who were on the very front of the contact between orc heavies and Lions, had pretty-much come to a halt, watching as the mutant orc and the captain of the Lions faced off.

The monster twitched and Zell exploded into action...............

"Ready!"

MacKensie held her hand high, checking behind her to make sure the mages were casting. She could feel the tension in her soldiers as they held their bow and arrows in position. And then her delay was rewarded as a great many bows in The Rabbits' hands started to glow again. J'ai vous!

"Fire!"

It sounded like a drum roll as everyone released. A wave of arrows slashed the wind apart, comet-tails of flames on every third arrow. Orcs and goblins dropped dead or were pushed stumbling backward into the siege tower from which they appeared. A fire started inside the top of the siege tower and enemies pushed past their injured bretheren and tripped over the dead bodies to get out. MacKensie wished she could have taken advantage with another volley, but the tops of ladders appeared on the battlements, right in front of The Rabbits.

"Swords!"

Upon sighting the first opponents to climb up and onto the walls, right in front of her, she was taken aback to see not orcs or goblins, not dark elves or skeletons, but humans. She faltered for a second as her mind played her an intrusive memory of back in the Temple of Hades when she'd slit the throat of that cultist. No slaying of a mere beast. Murder. Her eyes squeezed almost shut as she summoned every ounce of determination and will power she could muster to banish her reservations.

"Give them no rest!"

The Rabbits pushed up against the battlements and fought to keep the corrupted tribesmen off the wall. Many enemies cried out as they fell all the way the ground. Some died to the defenders' blades. Some fought back viciously and stayed alive long enough to see one of their own climb up behind them and help. There was no way to stop the slowly increasing number of enemies on the walls. And now there was barely a block that were free enough to provide ranged support. MacKensie had stepped into the third rank as to not be embroiled in melee combat. She held both loaded crossbows and placed bolts in the spaces between her fingers, then activated her Deadly Flurry - blue flames dancing from her shoulders to the tips of her fingers - and then, with a blur, she machine-gunned off eight bolts in less than two seconds. With god-speed she continued, left hand holstering her crossbow, reaching into her pouch for a fistful of bolts that she released into the air in front of her. Her right hand, holding her primary weapon, came sweeping across the air, side-on, catching each bolt in the firing mechanism and letting it fly in lightning-quick succession. The entire Deadly Flurry move had started and finished within four seconds, resulting in fourteen dead enemies, each dropping with a bolt between the eyes.

MacKensie caught movement in her peripheral vision and did a double-take to see three Dark Elven Screamers come jumping off the outside of the siege tower and right onto The Rabbits. Their screams were blood-curdling and their dual wielding style was ferocious. The Rabbits on the flank didn't stand a chance. As one of her soldiers fell, MacKensie fired a shot off at the Screamer in retribution, but the dark elven woman parried the bolt out of the air and looked right at the block Captain. The three Screamers cut right through the din of battle with high pitched warcries, inciting fear. MacKensie jumped onto the battlements and ran along towards the new threat, reloading her crossbow, killing an enemy dwarf with her dagger, then firing said-crossbow, close range, at a human to clear a way. One more tribesman needed felling before MacKensie could get close enough to the Screamers to jump off the battlements and into melee combat with one of them.

The frenchwoman quickly realised that she was outmatched.

The Screamers were fast. Even without any decent armour and a wave of arrows raining down on them, they still managed to reach the wall. They climbed the siege towers from the outside and jumped on the battlements. The closest archers didn't have time to react, the blades cut through the air, skin and flesh with swift movements.

"Archers, get back! Regroup on that end!" Fenna ordered. "Melee on the battlements."

As the archers moved back to the appointed location on the far right side of the wall, from which they could still fire at troops trying to approach the wall or those climbing on it, more soldiers came onto the battlements. Spearwielders positioned themselves between the Screamers, and others pouring in from the siege towers, and the archers to keep them safe. Swordwielders moved in to attack.
Two soldiers moved in against one Screamer, but the dual-wielding enemy was perfectly capable of dealing with two enemies at the same time and stabbed both of them.

"You three on her, you three take the second. Always make sure you are attacking with three." Fenna locked eyes with the third. "That one is for me."

With her spear ready, Fenna moved in as the soldiers around her stepped back and focussed on other enemies instead. The Screamer grinned with bloodlust in her eyes. One blade came down, Fenna blocked. The other came down, Fenna used the other end of her spear to block that too. For the first part of the fight, Fenna deflected any attack the Screamer made, who jumped around to try and get an opening. Fenna turned to move with her.

The sword came down, Fenna blocked and swung the spear around to hit the Screamer in the side with the shaft, hard enough to let her grunt and delay her next attack for a couple of seconds. Fenna used that opening to attack with the tip, but the Screamer was nimble and moved out of the way. With a series of quick thrusts, Fenna's aim was to keep the Screamer in the defence. The Screamer jumped up and aimed her blades at Fenna as she came down. Fenna activated the boots of light feet, pushed the spear down on the battlements and threw herself up. The air domain enchantment made her lighter and made it easier to jump. The blades of her opponent cut through air and the sudden miss made her stumble when the Screamer landed. Halfway through the jump, Fenna activated the second ability of her boots: heavy feet. The boots seemed as though they were made of stone and pulled Fenna to the ground, right on top of the Screamer who was turning to meet Fenna where she had projected Fenna would land.

They both fell to the ground. The Screamer let out her high-pitched scream as she tried to slash at Fenna with her sword, but with Fenna on top of her she couldn't put a lot of force in the swing and the blade scraped over Fenna's leather armour. Fenna grabbed her dagger and pushed it in her stomach.

The trees and roots Adam had created would help defeat any enemies, he had hoped, creating a barricade that would allow him to take on multiple foes at once.

Nope.

What he didn’t count on - really, couldn’t have expected - was the stone battle axe of Zacharius, destroying the majority of the defenses in one fell swoop. The rest were aimed straight at the Druid, attempting to cut him up into pieces. This was certainly no wolfman.

The red-eyed man didn’t have much time to think beyond what the heck is that? and this guy reminds me of- before he had to react. Somehow, miraculously, he was able to dodge the next two strikes. Narrowly, but successfully all the same.

The next? Not a chance. This new enemy had cornered Adam, and the American knew he was going to get hurt.

Not, however, without making this metal menace pay. So, as Zacharius slashed the adventurer’s stomach with his axe, the Druid slammed two trees into him like a pair of cymbals, then pushed him away from his bleeding self. This would inflict some damage upon him, and more importantly, give Adam a chance to prepare what was next. With one hand, he fired a natural energy beam at his opponent, and with the other he grew more trees to prepare for the inevitable counter-response.

Something (perhaps the significant pain of the first attack) had told the caster that the magical blast would not be enough to defeat this new foe. With that in mind, he had said something before launching his magical blast.

“Hello, Zigmund.”

He knew it was inaccurate, but maybe it would get this guy talking. Anything that would give the Michiganer even the slightest increased chance of victory would be worth it, and he intended to find and take whatever advantage he could get. It took all of Second Chance to defeat the water ninja, and now Adam had to fight one of them himself?

Yeah, any advantage would be great right about now.

The haunting sound of blades whistling through the air seemed to surround Alison as she retreated from the wolfman captain's onslaught.

"Dammit!" she thought to herself as she leaped back from another slash, "There goes our element of surprise! We'll have to fall back, draw them in deeper." After gaining sufficient space from her attacker, Alison called out to Kerensa, "Kerensa! Launch the signal, and fall back to the secondary position! Disengage!"

Kerensa had been doing far better at managing her pacing with the lieutenant, using the curve of her blade to hide its striking distance. Already, her opponent was missing fingers on one hand and sporting a deep, near-fatal slash under the same forearm. Tendons and sinew fluttered in the flames as he attempted to rabidly lash out in desperation, but Kerensa was a cold and skilled swordswoman. She fainted a thrust upward before, in the blink of an eye, flipping her blade in her hand to face the curve downward and in one swift motion, swung the blade around, from top to bottom, then up under the wolfman's sword arm. He had little time to react as the blade severed the arm clean from the body. He stared in disbelief for a moment, watching his arm drift through the air, as Kerensa rolled her grip again, taking his head in a clean follow-through swing.

It was at that moment, the rear guard flooded into the street from behind, rushing towards the pair. Kerensa pulled a short cylinder from her pouch, aimed upward, and pulled the fuse. A red then green flare shot upwards, and all around them, the surviving thieves disengaged via smoke bombs and flash grenades.

With this distraction in place, Alison broke off her fight with the Captain and attempted to lead him down a side street while Kerensa and the others drew away the rear guard down the main avenue. The wolves, relieved to be in the far more familiar position of hunters once more, gave chase to the group while the Captain, ever the seeker of the foreign Source users, chased after Alison with a small cadre, leaving the rest to hunt the survivors.

---

Alison dashed down the alley, a firm grimace on her face. She had not wanted to get separated, but in the confusion, here they were. As she ran she ducked down another narrow alley filled with trash and junk from the surrounding houses. Thinking fast, she ducked behind a ruined crate and threw up her hood and veil, letting the mystical cloak's ability activate. Light shimmered ever so slightly, then went still as she faded into the wall and rotting wood. She felt the familiar whispers in her ear again.

"Coming... closer... careful... may smell..." said the distant voice. She drew a long, four-sided roundel dagger and held her breath. She prayed that between the smell of garbage, the burning city, and the poor light of the alley, her cover would not be blown...

---

Captain Hrond barreled through the alley. What had happened? They were the ones meant to plunge fangs and claw into the backs of the unsuspecting Source users! They were the great hunting pack, who would fall all in their path! So what had happened?!

Hrond turned the corner and practically smashed a crate to splinters before abruptly stopping. He stared warily down the alley, ears flicking, eyes narrowing. No, rash anger was for the orcs, the mindless beasts, and the inexperienced fools in the army. He did not reach the rank of captain, nor form this pack through berserking rage. He readied his claw blades and crept forward. If that woman was going to ambush him, now would be the time. He gestured with his head to one of his pack members to take point. He wielded a hand axe and began creeping through the alley ahead of him.

He could sense that ever strange miasma of source that followed that one. That did bother him. And now it seemed to saturate this whole alleyway. Yet it was odd. They were now nearing the exit of the path, spilling into a plaza. Perhaps this cloud was a diversion? What a mess, being led like newborn pups by their noses. However, just as his pack member reached the exit, something stirred in the corner to his right...

"You fools...!"

---

Alison felt her blade scrape against the ribcage of the Captain as she plunged the dagger through his side, ramming the blade upwards, in quick succession, she yanked the blade back, then stabbed down between his shoulder blade, again, feeling the blade scrape against bone and bite into flesh. With a mighty howl and much to her surprise, the wolfman slammed his armored claw into her stomach. She felt the air leave her lungs as she was flung down the alley, crashing into the lead wolfman and throwing into the plaza. Alison clutched at her chest as she gasped for air. She felt her ribs to be broken. Yet, there was no time to recover, as the wolfman she had tumbled with leaped upon her, swinging the axe down. A warning loudly whispered in her ear, she caught the falling axe by the handle with her left hand, the impact sending a shiver through her left arm. With her right hand still holding the dagger, she drove it upwards under the muzzle of the wolfman.

Shoving the fresh corpse off herself, she rolled backward up onto her feet, just in time to see the Captain's bladed gauntlet stab into the ground where she had just. Standing up straight, he glared at her, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth, breath heavy and panting. His two other squad members came out of the alley behind him and formed up on his left and right, shortsword and claw weapon at the ready.

"Who are you?" the Captain said in a deep, growling tone. Alison's eyes widened in surprise. So they could talk...

"A data analyst," she responded between gasps of breath before dashing forward. She had to take the initiative in this fight, thought Alison, or she would be quickly overwhelmed. She made a play to strike low, seeking to knock the captain off balance while preparing to dive under his squadmate's strikes.

@xenon

Where was Adam going?

The thought kept repeating again and again as the man ran away from the platform, the explosion earlier! Was he directed or was he acting on his own? Did it matter? He had half expected that something like this would happen, backstabbing was one of the Marquis's favorite moves for a reason. But now with Adam going there... should he support him? Unbidden his hand went to the handle of the anchor before he tore it away.

No, not yet.

Instead, he refocused on the battle, Kass was holding but Zell was worrying, they hadn't managed to get the materials for the ritual again and the sword was obviously affecting him. It made him angry, now it would be harder to separate him from that fucking thing.

"Agh!"

He felt himself flinch as the man closest to him was downed in an instant, an arrow sticking from one of his eyes, still open in horror. The bile rose from his stomach but was pushed down thanks to the experience half of him possessed, distraction was death and he couldn't afford to lose more people.

Then it happened in an instant, some unseen point tipped and more towers made contact, melee units advanced and the fighting became furious. Now the lives of his friends were being targeted.

It was time.

Both hands went to the handle of the anchor with his holy symbol grasped tightly.

"I call to you Lord Undaya, Ruler of the seas and King of the ocean, bestow upon us your blessing, to be as cold and unwavering as you are in the deep below!"

Once, twice the anchor hit the platform, a simple tap but he could feel the ripples of faith, similar to throwing a rock in a lake. It was the third trap that saw his anchor striking the floor of the platform with considerable force, sending the generated ripples of faith towards each of his party members, he hadn't noticed it before but with the last days learning of Hacking some things started to make sense with context, now he could guess the party system ingrained in their Crystals was helping guide his Blessing towards his party members almost effortlessly.

He just hoped they received it in time.

His attention returned to the fighting, and his Light Beam joined the magic being thrown around, they were close to another tipping point, he could feel it.

Now they just had to resist.

The first crack materialized in the wood of the North Gate.

“Commander Thorn, sir.” The Strategos lowered her spyglass and turned to Thorn. “The gate is almost breached.”

Thorn nodded grimly. He had hoped that they could hold the walls for longer than this but luck was not on their side.



“Hello Zigmund.”

“Hm?” Zacharius grunted in confusion, surprised to hear the name. It caught him off-guard enough to distract him from the threat and he couldn’t get out of the way of the Natural Energy Beam that fired his way. The steel-clad Demi-Jinn did his best to brace and took the magical blast dead in his chest. “Grrr…” His boots scraped the pavestones as the beam of Source pushed him backwards, before Zacharius’ strength gave in and he was sent tumbling across the street. “Raaahh!”

Zacharius was more angry than hurt, though it was clear that the Drinker of Dive Blood could indeed feel pain. As he got to one knee, he slammed the butt of his battleaxe on the ground angrily and then stood up properly. Smoke rose from his chest plate, but the enchanted armour was barely scratched.

Back before Zacharius had given up his humanity, he was a Paladin Class adventurer with a heavy emphasis on defense over offense. This emphasis characterized the pact he’d made with the Djinn he’d Soul-Fused with. His weightless armour was almost completely impervious to most of the typical types of physical damage and had strong magical resistances too. This is what made fighting Zacharius such a deadly puzzle, especially when combined with the powerful and relentless attack style that he now took advantage of.

Then it hit him. Zigmund? Why would this adventurer know the name? Those who met Zigmund rarely lived to tell about it. And now Zigmund was missing in action. Failed to return after being sent to deal with the heroes from another world. “You…” Zacharius said to the Druid. “You are one of them, aren’t you?” He didn’t need an answer. It became clear when assessing Adam’s strange clothes. Zacharius growled and then roared before charging at Adam.

He swung at the injured man, missed and his battleaxe smashed a hole in the brick wall of the building. He pulled his weapon free, creating more damage and launched into another attack at Adam, every swing with all of his might intending to finish the fight in one landed attack.

When Adam managed to create some distance, Zacharius summoned a spell that charged his axe and he slammed it onto the ground, causing the street to crack open with a series of explosion that created a straight line of destruction heading right for Adam.



A Data Analyst? There was no time to even begin understanding Alison’s answer as the rogue exploded into an attack. She closed half of the gap before Hrond’s wolfmen could react and when they did, their weapons hit nothing but air as Alison ducked under them while seamlessly attacking the Wolf Captain’s leg.

Hrond’s speed and reflexes had been compromised by his injuries and he barely avoided the attack, but in avoiding it, he was off balance and on one leg, feeling like everything was in slow motion as his eyes followed her sweep around his other side until they could follow no more.

“Argh!” She sunk her dagger just above one of his kidneys. He stumbled toward his wolfmen who dashed past him to engage her and Hrond span about to watch. Seeing her occupied for a moment, he took this time to charge up and trigger one of his Racial Abilities: Light of the Luna.

Hrond was framed by a glow of white light. His strength and speed increased by half. And now he knew how she moved, how she fought. It was time to show this woman the true power of the Luna Clan.

He flew back into the combat, knocking one of his own out of the way to interrupt. A quick jab hit Alison in the mouth, before he slashed her weapon-hand, forcing her to drop the dagger. His combo continued to grab her slashed hand, swung her into the wall, then follow it up with a stab before throwing her to the floor.

He picked up her dagger and tossed it to her.

“You’ll be needing this…” He snarled smugly, feeling quite in control now. “...Data Analyst.”



Source shimmered in Commander Thorn’s eyes as scanned the flags of the various blocks of infantry on the wall and began booming orders.



The aforementioned blocks began to fall back off the wall, while everyone else fought to defend their retreat. Soldiers were pouring down the steps and into the streets to fall back the closest choke points to the North Gate, one of which was a 100m stretch away from where The Bats had formed up.

The idea would be to secure the nearby choke points so a full retreat to The Bazaar could be executed without all the defenders being cut down as they ran. The Bazaar was a strong defensible island in the middle of the city, protected by water and bridges, capable stopping the enemy forces for a small amount of time.



The Right Wing had to be given up as the defenders on the wall thinned their numbers. The Left Wing had to stay the strongest. They could not lose that gate yet.



Another smash from the battering ram saw the gate almost buckle completely. There were enough holes in the splintered wood that The Bats could now see through to the outside.

And then a final smash saw the gates fly open.

The trolls slowly wheeled the battering ram away and off to one side. Then horns sounded. An open lane between the river and assaulting army was now being filled with a charging column of Lizard Cavalry. Clouds of dust kicked up into the air as the clawed feet of half a hundred beasts thundered towards the North Gate. Hisses, warcries and horns sounded off.

Up on the mage platforms, the Clerics and Spirit Mages threw all their power into layers of protection enchantments, resistance blessings and magical barriers for The Bats. Then they fled to The Bazaar for further orders.

MacKensie was in trouble. Her opponent could match her speed, outclassed her in skill and the high-pitched shrieking was spiking her senses at all the wrong moments. Every defensive move was suboptimal, doing nothing to swerve the momentum. Every attack was punished, resulting in torn leggings and a ripped tunic highlighting both light and heavy lacerations.

Due to the position of the defending army and the assaulting force, the fact that Saladin vastly outnumbered Valhiem was playing out as extremely heavy pressure on the endurance of the defenders. Valhiem's forces spent their energy dispatching the invaders, only to face fresh new enemies every time. But on the Right Wing, things were far, far worse. With his siege towers and ladders, Saladin was able to leverage his superior numbers by stretching out the assaulting line along the wall far beyond what the Right Wing was capable of defending. Once the fighting grew chaotic and everyone was occupied, additional ladders had Saladin's soldiers scaling the undefended walls further along, without resistance, and now the Right Wing was being crushed by the weight of envelopment.

The Rabbits, the Hornets and others nearby, all fought bravely but had begun to suffer casualties at an untenable rate. Things turned from bad to worse when MacKensie took grievous bodily harm. One of the Screamers' long daggers caught her flush, slicing deep into her forearm and travelling all the way down, past the elbow and through her tricep. The frenchwoman screamed in pain and dropped her dagger, narrowly managing to dodge an attempted finishing blow from the dark elven woman's second dagger. The enemy did not give up and chased down MacKensie with vicious strikes, one of which, MacKensie was forced to block with her crossbow, resulting in said-crossbow being destroyed completely. As she quickly ran out of moves to make, all looked lost until Sergeant First Class Gregory Grimes made a timely intervention.

"Grimes." The relief in her voice outshined the pain as Grimes fended off the Screamer, giving MacKensie a chance to retrieve her dagger from the ground. She had to do so with her left hand, for her right arm was completely non-functional. It hung limp and bloody from her shoulder - she couldn't even get her fingers on that hand to twitch. The only thing she could feel was the blood pulsing out of her tricep and the faintest sensation of soaking wetness all down her arm. She may as well have had it severed completely, for all the use it was.

The chaos of battle consumed the Rabbits and as she tried to return the favour and help Grimes with the Screamers who were now double-teaming him, she kept being attacked by goblins and corrupted tribesmen. Desperate parries were followed by her throwing herself into risky counters, diving upon her foes to sink her dagger into their skulls. Her one-armed balance was poor and she stumbled or fell with every attack. Her only desire was to get to Grimes before it was too...

"Grimes!"

In managing to kill one, Grimes could not free his sword from the corpse fast enough and was felled by the other Screamer, being stabbed and slashed multiple times even as he fell to the floor. Her second in command was a superb fighter but the combined might of the Screamers was just too much. The surviving Screamer turned to see a furious MacKensie facing her down. The third Screamer joined the side of her sister and both stared at MacKensie like predators looking upon wounded prey. MacKensie was not skilled enough to beat these women one-on-one, with two working arms. There was no one to help - everyone already had more than they could handle. The odds were stacked to a hopeless degree. But MacKensie would not be beaten. She would have her revenge for Grimes.

The Screamers restarted their high-pitched shrieks and then pounced. In a flash of inspiration, MacKensie activated her final Deadly Flurry of the day - blue flames appeared along her arms - but instead of sheathing her dagger and reaching for her crossbow, she repurposed her Godspeed.

It was not supposed to work. Nowhere in her mind did the Source Code say that her ability could work with anything other than ranged weapons.

She forced it to work.

As the two Screamers fell upon MacKensie with rapid dual-wield combos, MacKensie's left hand whirled her dagger in figure-of-eight motions at a speed barely-trackable by human eyes. She backed up one step to keep both Screamers in her field, metal on metal sounds ringing into the air as she parried every attack. But something else happened too. For those four to five seconds that MacKensie Deadly Flurry was active, she'd become a veritable food-blender, not only parrying all attacks away, but also counter-striking the hands, wrists and arms of the Screamers an innumerable amount of times. Suddenly the shrieks of the Screamers were not just warcries, but shrieks of pain as they were violently disarmed.

MacKensie's Deadly Flurry ended with the dark elven women stumbling backwards and away. MacKensie launched her dagger at one. Before it had even sunk into the face of her foe, the frenchwoman was leaping at the other Screamer. Mid-air, she fired her grapplehook. The beam/wire latched onto the hilt of Grimes' sword. And in a sweep of poetic justice - of cosmic karma - the grapplehook reeled in the sword right to MacKensie's grip and she thrust it, with all her might and fury, into the heart of the last Screamer.

"Grimes!" MacKensie fell to her knees beside her second in command. His eyes were open - he was alive - but all at once MacKensie realised he was not long for this world and there was nothing she could do. Tears welled up in her eyes and fell rolled down her cheeks with her very next blink. "Grimes, stay with me. We're going to get you help." She looked both ways, then tried to scoop her left arm under him to lift him so she could begin to get him off the wall. He resisted her and pulled her closer.

"Focus, ma'am." His dying whispers were the last of his strength. One final lecture. "You have a duty to the Rabbits. There's no time for this... flailing." It was over for him. He knew it. She knew it. Her tears fell on him. "Save them. Save as many as you can. I have faith in you."

And he was gone.

It hurt. It hurt so bad.



But there would be no time to grieve.



The Rabbits would remain, she realised. They had to hold off the enemy to protect the retreat. She gritted her teeth and got to her feet, right arm dangling useless, fighting all around her, the clash of steel against steel and shouting not enough to silence her. "Fight! Rabbits! Fight with all your strength! Fight like it all depends on you!"

Her grapplehook once more shot out and latched onto her dagger, pulling it free from the face of the dead Screamer. It flew into her grasp and she found a way into the front line and rejoined the fight. With her adrenaline raging, she did not realise that she had lost a dangerous amount of blood. Each time her vision began swimming, her anger forced the shapes back into sharp focus. Her heart thundered. And she lost more blood.



MacKensie backed up and out of the fighting, then moved through the ranks and hopped up onto the battlements to get her bearings. Once she could see properly; "Rabbits!" She pointed the way. "We fight our way to the Centre Line!" She shuffled along in that direction. "Come on! Fight!"

As she made to get down, she had a lapse in consciousness and fell. Luckily she was caught by one of her soldiers and she awoke immediately, disoriented but determined. The soldier, a woman named Helga, was shocked to see how ghostly-grey her Captain was. Then she realised that MacKensie was losing a frightening amount of blood from her arm, which was soaked red and dripping. Helga was about to shout for help, "The Capta-!" But MacKensie, with her working left arm, clasped her hand over the mouth of Helga to silence her.

"Not yet." MacKensie used Helga to help herself up properly and shook her head at the other woman. "We need to move. Now." MacKensie spotted Corporal Maviel nearby, his thick, curled Tiefling horns making him easy to pick out in the crowd. “Maviel!” He disengaged from the fighting and came to her. “Go to the head and keep everyone moving towards the Center.” He nodded and left, starting to shout commands. MacKensie moved to the rear to help protect their back. Helga, worried for her captain, went with her. The rear was intense, with enemies staying on their tails and giving the Rabbits no rest, and too corrupted tribesmen appearing on the battlements and jumping down onto them. “Stay together!” MacKensie shouted as she shuffled backwards with the back rank, focusing on defensive fighting only. “Do not fall behind!”

They covered the distance successfully, but the Rabbits had lost a lot of soldiers since the tipping point of the battle. Covering the tactical retreat had cost them dearly.

MacKensie stumbled for the umpteenth time, Helga keeping her upright once again. The frenchwoman’s dagger was bouncing off enemy swords dangerously. Her strength was waning. “Captain, you can barely stand. Next time you fall, I fear you will not get up. Please… go and get healed before it’s too late.”

MacKensie had to blink away the black spots in her vision and constantly refocus her vision. Her only working arm was jelly. She couldn’t even feel the dagger in her hand. She had to give in to the concerns of her comrade. “I’ll be back,” she promised. “Just as soon as I’m patched.”

They exchanged a nod and Helga helped MacKensie to the closest stairs. MacKensie however, turned her sights up to the mage platforms and squinted as she scanned the tops. And she saw the face she was looking for.

Immediately she pointed her gauntlet and fired the beam/wire of blue light up high. It was a scuffed ascent to the top of the platforms, not nearly as graceful as what she was known for, but she managed to reduce the swinging and absorb the worst of the bumps with her feet and ended up making it. “James!” She hung on to the platform with one hand, using her feet to struggle up and get her elbow and forearm on, then she got help from some mages who pulled her up. “James. Can you fix my arm?” Perhaps she would have joked and asked for a few pints of blood too, but she was struggling to keep conscious now that she was out of immediate danger. “Please hurry, my friend." She was panicking, aware that she was fading quickly and might be forced to retreat without the Rabbits. "I need to get back down there.”

No. She would go back to the Rabbits, no matter what. Even if it meant death, she would not abandon them.

The clash from the battering ram caused cracks in the wood of the gate to splinter and come loose from the hinges. The gate was coming down after a few more attempts. The Bats did not have much time to recuperate before the next serious attack took place. Barracker raised a hand up. “Ready yourselves. Take a short time out to focus on getting your breath back.” Barracker walked towards the gate and took a long look through to the danger and an eyeful of what sort of enemies were beyond the gate. His face dropped a little. Thank the gods they cannot see my expression right now, the Paladin thought about his troops. His unit could not see what he was seeing, on the other side of the gate, but soon they would. For the first time, doubt filled his mind. Would he and his unit be able to step up to the occasion? This was going to test the mind, body and spirit of his women and men. The Bats had incurred only a handful of serious casualties so far. The shield wall formation had done its work. But even the strongest and most experienced spear unit would likely be crippled here.

The battering ram’s next hit smashed a giant hole in the gate and everyone in Barracker’s block were looking clearly at the giant stone gargoyle dragon's head staring down upon them. Barracker was the only one with his back to the gate as he moved around his unit, making adjustments to each rank. Their shape. Their posture.

“You, back a step… You, dip further down on that knee. A low centre of gravity will give you the edge you need. The very ground will be your defense. Drive the bottom of your shields and the butts of your spears into the cracks between the pavestones. Remember to stay low.”

He kept tending to his men, even as the dragon-head of the battering ram backed up out of view and out of the hole in the gate. Men and women in the block started glowing again, different shimmers on their weapons, on their shields as many enchantments were blessed upon The Bats. Casted magical barriers,like a semi invisible wall, popped up in front of them. The Dire Stags were ready to aid the Bats once the charge was over, they stood around the corner from the gate.

Once the final ram hit, it outright flung the gates open. The trolls looked fierce enough, but they ignored the defenders and occupied the battering ram, wheeling it back and out of view, into the fog outside. Barracker took his place, front and centre, in front of the shield wall and drove the tip of his sword into a gap in the pavestones, to free his hand so he could cast his own barriers. He did not cast the barriers in front of himself as one would expect. Instead his barriers appeared on either side of him, making the vampire a one-man front rank to the shield wall. Hopefully all this magic would increase their survivability enough that they could take this titanic charge.

Barracker muttered the incantation for his transmutation spell, “Stoneskin,” as the final piece of magic to complete the preparations.

Warren, out of view of Barracker, had to place his arm around his fellow comrade next to him, to calm their nerves and solidify their resolve. Things were on a knife edge right now, if even one man broke and ran, it would probably cause a full rout. The silence screamed volumes. The waiting was unbearable.

Barracker looked straight ahead. He could hear it. First the horns, then the rumbling beyond the fog. It was as if a horde of giants were zoning in on Valhiem’s position. He could hear the footsteps, then the monstrous hisses growing louder and then louder. I hope this is enough.

Hades protect us.

Lizard cavalry, they looked like small wingless dragons that stood at a whopping ten feet tall, trodding on two legs, with a muscular physique. Their heads used as battering rams and the riders wielding halberds out of reach for the bats to touch them. These were the elite cavalry.

As soon as the impact happened, the contact made the vampire’s shield-arm feel crushed under the weight from the scaly beasts. His feet were ripping up concrete bricks from the path, heels sinking into the ground as if it was mud, such was the force impacting him. Due to the vampiric strength and resistance of his stone skin form, he was just about able to withstand the pressure, but he was sent skidding back towards the Bats. Magical barriers started to shatter immediately as riders barreled their way through easily. Barracker kept sliding backward and was about to reach the first rank when it happened… the familiar feeling he felt when outside the Temple of Hades, when their Leader James had used his blessing on him and the rest of Second Chance. His endurance peaked, his strength accelerated and he was able to stop himself sliding back.

For the whole unit of spears and shields, the crash of the cavalry charge was like an explosion. Some were crushed down upon and were ran over. Some were sent flying twenty feet. Some were impaled on the long halberds of the lizard riders. But most survived and managed to do damage back, tripping some lizards over and sending their riders flying. Some lizards ran onto the spears of The Bats.

As the lizard cavalry charge slowed down to a stop, The Bats rose to their feet and began stabbing up at the beasts and their riders.

A fierce battle began, with the Dire Stags block running in for support.

The dagger clattered to the ground in front of Alison as she clutched her freshly wounded hand. It was a bad cut, running across the back of her hand, but if she hadn't pulled back then, Alison suspected she'd be clutching at a stump. Her whole body ached, and now she had an inkling of how a chew toy might have felt. That damn captain had thrown her around like a ragdoll and it was any wonder she had maintained consciousness. But the pain was soon forgotten as the blade slid in front of her. Alison looked up, stared, blinked twice, and picked up the blade as she stood.

Was he stupid? Why on this alien world would you ever give back a weapon to your enemy?! The ego of this wolfman utterly took Alison aback.

---

Captain Hrond growled in... satisfaction. It seemed his prey finally realized its place. This woman, tenacious as she was, was clearly in awe of the overwhelming power he now had over her. Her expression told him everything, despite no scent of fear filling the air. That damn miasma of Source was all over the place, he could barely smell his kin. No matter, in his heightened state, his eyes and speed were more than enough to end this wretched distraction. He watched as the woman slowly stood, picking up the blade before...

"What?!" Hrond audibly shouted. She ran?! She fucking ran?! This woman! He had clearly challenged her to a duel, had shown his superior might, and she ran?! "Typical prey to try to run when cornered..." he thought to himself as he and his remaining pack member took off after her as the woman barged through the door of a nearby shop.

---

Alison slammed the door closed and dropped the bar. Small miracle it hadn't been bared up before, but the suddenness of the attack must of caused the owner to flee before he could lock up the shop. Thinking fast, Alison quickly glanced around for anything useful, anything at all! She found she was in some sort of herbalist shop, the smell of dried herbs burned her nostrils as she desperately searched the shelves. Her hand found its way around one jar and after taking a sniff, she smiled. As the door smashed down, she threw it.

---

The wolfman easily reacted as the jar came hurdling at him, but before Hrond could warn him, he smacked it with his sword! The jar burst open, filling the air with a burning smell that caused his pack member to cough and gag hard on the herbs. He saw as the woman darted from the side and slammed a long tub down into his companion's throat. Before either could react, she yanked the cord and to Hrond's horror, he watched as his pack member screamed in utter pain and suffering as the flare ignited down the wolfman's throat. In a matter of moments, his skull boiled his brain as a hole was burned through the back of his neck. The fresh corpse now tumbled to the side.

Captain Hrond caught the follow-up jab that came, shock and horror replaced with a deep, frothing rage. Too many times had he seen his pack be cooked, hacked, and cut down like mere dogs in the streets! They were the Luna Clan, masters of the hunt in the shadows and he would not tolerate this any longer. No more games, no more tricks.

Twisting the blade, ripped it from her hand and slammed his clawed fist into her stomach. He felt a blade pierce leather, then cloth, the finally skin as the blades plunged into her flesh. With a mighty roar, he punched her through the shop's back walls sending her flying across the back alley and into the warehouse behind it.

---

Timber walls and wood piles, as Alison had been learning recently, do not make for comfortable fall breakers. Dust filled the air as Alison tried to pick herself up. Her hand went to her stomach and came back with blood. Her mind whirled from the impact as she shook her head, trying to shake the disorientation off. Head somewhat clear, she stared at the blood now dripping from her waist, her arm, and the new cuts in her head. She felt splinters digging into her body and knew running was no longer an option. She had to figure out a way to end it...

Seeing the glowing figure now stepping through the hole in the building, she quickly limped deeper into the warehouse, getting behind a timber pile and catching her breath as her mind raced to figure out a strategy. She stared at her cloak, knowing she only had one use left... But in her state, it would be useless. She was dripping blood, couldn't control her breathing right, and was covered in dust.

"Coming... closer...!" desperately whispered the voice in her ear. Time was running out. It was then she remembered the wrapped weight on her right arm, and one last desperate plan began to form...

Something worked, which relieved Adam quite a bit. Specifically, the Natural Energy Beam combined with his Zigmund ploy had caused Zacharius to actually get hit.

And then, the relief disappeared as the enemy got up, hardly hurt at all from the blast. This guy might be even stronger than the water ninja, the Druid thought, hoping to be wrong. Just then, the metal man spoke up.

“You…you are one of them, aren't you?”

“Yes, and-”

Adam wasn't even able to finish his thought as Zacharius charged at him. So much for being able to bluff his way out of this. It wasn't like he could defeat him like Zigmund was anyway, since there was no team for him to fight with this time. Being bait certainly wasn't fun.

After a few narrow dodges, this new opponent casted magic that charged his axe. Then he slammed it onto the ground, causing the street to crack open with a series of explosions that created a straight line of destruction heading right for Adam. The red-eyed man jumped out of the way, but the impressive display of power was actually a feint. Right after that strike, Zacharius charged straight at the Michigander, swinging his axe from the top to cut the Druid up like a log.

There was no time to dodge. Only one option presented itself.

Right at that moment, Adam transformed into his bear form, using his newly-enhanced jaw to grab the sharp part of the weapon. This ran so against anything Zacharius intended that he briefly stopped his attack out of surprise. This was enough for the fisherman, who yanked the weapon away from his opponent and slashed him with a bear claw. A bear claw, that much to the striker's dismay, did nothing to the Zigmund lookalike.

And as the enemy was harmlessly struck, he did something - maybe a spell, Adam couldn't tell for sure - that made the axe disappear out of his mouth before it reappeared in his hands. And seemingly instantaneously, Zacharius attacked again with a swing of the axe. This time, there was no way for the bear to dodge, and he was sent flying back through a nearby building. And this was no ordinary attack; whatever it was, it forced the American out of his ursine form and back into his bleeding human one.

Adam knew that if he hadn't been transformed, that hit would have killed him. He also knew that there was only one way he was going to defeat this opponent. And fortunately, being hit as hard as he was created some distance between him and his attempted killer for him to try this plan.

So, as quickly as he possibly could, the Druid began casting. He knew he would only get one chance at this, and he was not going to waste it.

There was a delayed reaction when Zell decapitated the giant orc. There was a small section in the back of Chip's mind that wondered if everyone was as shocked as he was.

This part of Chip - which seemed to operate with soberness and logic whilst the rest of his body was engulfed in the nerves and adrenaline of the loud battle - this part in the back of Chip's mind had been really rather uncomfortable as Chip stood by Biff and Kipper, watching the duel between the two Captains of each side. Uncomfortable and speechless. Who was this man and what had he done with Captain Zell?

Zell Brooks: A man with an easy laugh, an easier smile, a charming arrogance and witty lines. A man who had made the Lions feel about as confident and secure as they had any right to be, in the days leading up to the battle. He'd brought them all together instantly, by giving them a reason to call themselves Lions. By talking them - mostly strangers - into loving eachother like family.

But this was not the same man. All of those qualities were replaced by one dominant force... rage.

And were Chip's ears working correctly? Did he hear the name 'Baphomet' out of the mouth of his Captain? When Zell teleported, behind the mutant orc and onto the battlements, only to jump off into a 360 slash that took the monsters head clean off, Chip was sure Zell had called out to the Devil. Maybe it was just in Chip's head - a figment of his imagination mixed with the sensory overload of battle and the shock of seeing Zell in this rage-state.

What was not in his imagination, however, was what Zell did during the delayed reaction as the mutant orc's headless body fell to it's knees and then keeled over. With the thumb and palm of his gloved left hand, Zell, in one smooth motion, wiped the blood from his katana and then... licked the orc blood from his glove! One giant lick of his tongue, hand moving across his face, staining his mouth, nose and chin with ichor. And then he looked at the Lions who were watching and Chip saw the crazed wide eyes of a frenzied madman. Like a Wildling from the Badlands of the Southeast. A soulless menace, devoid of thought and fuelled by nothing but fury. Horrifying.

He roared. Like the Lion he was. And Biff, Kipper... Chip too... they roared with him.

And just like that, the delayed reaction was over. It had all lasted mere moments - even the duel itself was only, roughly, a minute long - but it had felt like forever. The Lions charged before the orcs on the other side of Zell, giving the defenders the momentum in their small portion of the chaos on the walls of Valhiem. Once again they were fighting like everyone else, incited and enraged alongside their Captain. Chip was once again loud and bloodthirsty, eager to slay these disgusting creatures who dared threaten to destroy his home.

The shock of seeing the dark side of Captain Zell, faded into insignifance.

"Aghhgg!"

Multiple lacerations all across the torso, most shallow but a few had managed to penetrate deep in the Adventurer blessed flesh, forcing warm blood to soak into torn gambeson and gleaming mail. Were this man a mere normal warrior he would be already dead like so many others, instead his vitality forced him awake even as his life force seeped into the ground. The man spasmed in agony even as a few others helped him pin him down as some of the clerics cast their spells on him, the poison flowing from open wounds as the man cried, he was lucky to have received Ascension enough times to deserve this treatment, there were many others already on the solid underneath who weren't as lucky.

After a small eternity, the wounds of the man were fully closed, and without a word, he rose and went to rejoin the fight. Already he could see the next patient entering the small area they had set to tend to the few lucky wounded that were valuable enough to be considered assets.

He grunted as he lifted his anchor again and went to observe the situation again, the retreat had been sounded and they were engaging in retreat, it was... irking to yield ground but he was aware of the plan, already he could see some of the retreating mages preparing the next stage. The worry in his gut was staggering, like an empty abyss that ate everything else and threatened to split him right down the middle, but he swallowed it down like old bile. Doubt was a slow poison, and he had no time for it. The battle had no time for it.

“James!” She hung on to the platform with one hand, using her feet to struggle up and get her elbow and forearm on, then she got help from some mages who pulled her up. “James. Can you fix my arm?” Perhaps she would have joked and asked for a few pints of blood too, but she was struggling to keep conscious now that she was out of immediate danger. “Please hurry, my friend." She was panicking, aware that she was fading quickly and might be forced to retreat without the Rabbits. "I need to get back down there.”

The scream forced the blood in his veins, the only reason she could be here...

He forced himself to look anyway and was drowned in relief and worry in equal measure, the damage was bad, but it was also mostly concentrated on the arm, so while she was at risk of losing too much blood it was an easily solvable problem.

He still reacted appropriately.

"Shit! Mac!"

He was by her side in a second, listening to her blabbering (A concussion? No, blood loss) with one ear but mostly focusing on her arm. It was a mess, but a fixable mess, no broken bones, and the lack of strong smell (Besides the blood) suggested a lack of poison. Not that he was going to risk.

"Leave it to me!" Immediately he directed his attention to one of the mages he recognized "Ghunter give me a red and a green quickly" For a moment he feared the other cleric would bring up the fact that those supplies were meant for the mages but thankfully the other men complied.

The following treatment was harrowing, the first point was the application of the tourniquet to stop the blood loss and prevent hypovolemic shock, he ended up needing help to restrain Mackenzie as it was applied, luckily one of the nearby clerics had some numbing agent but it was still an agonizing if quick procedure. The next was the cleaning of the wound, a grotesque necessity interrupted only by the direct application of blood production and anti-poison potions. Once the limb was clean the next step was the recordation of the limb, he had to be aided by some of the most experienced clerics to make sure the arm was properly aligned as they proceeded to bandage it, one of the special bandages produced by the Druids in preparation for the siege, its hardening properties were meant to help guide healing bones but Mackenzie's arm was so ruined the extra help was needed.

Then, and only then could he finally cast his Lesser Restore, had he skipped all other steps they would have run the risk of shock happening or worse, the arm healing wrong. As it was the arm would be close to unusable for at least a few minutes, but by that point, he hoped the potions would have helped Mac regain enough of her vitality.

When the Screamer was defeated, Fenna took a moment to assess the situation. The other two screamers had caused casualties, but the order to stay on them with three at all times had worked. With two arms they couldn't defend three sides at all times and spear wielders had been able to find an open spot to stab them.

They barely got a moment to catch a breath. The order to fall back to the center was given. It felt wrong to abandon this side of the wall and allow the enemy to take it, but an order was an order and she wasn't a military expert. She had to trust their decision. She repeated the order and the Falcons moved back, killing enemies as they moved back to the center, stepping over already fallen soldiers of the factions that had been stationed here. The Rabbits, Fenna realised. MacKensie had been stationed to her left on this section of the wall.

At least MacKensie wasn't among the fallen soldiers.

"Reposition! Ready swords!"

They were close to the Rabbits. Fenna searched for MacKensie but couldn't find her. If needed, she'd assist the Rabbits, but they seemed to do well. She focused her attention on the Falcons and directed their repositioning so they could take a stand against the incoming enemies.

In the Rearguard position, surrounded by his elite bodyguard, Saladin watched the battle unfold with a stern expression. Inside, he was satisfied with the progression of his forces. His second in command walked forward to stand by Saladin’s horse.

“Might I go for a stroll now?” the vampire asked, bored.

Saladin stroked his chin. After some time to think, he answered. “Yes.” Then he pulled out a computer from his saddlebags. He tapped and turned the golden cube, then the holo screen appeared above it. “Now that we have broken their poise, we will flood the city with the Bone Legions. We have as many skeleton warriors as they have defenders. The Dark Riders will go in behind, sack and burn the city, kill any who did not flee to the mountain. The mountain however will require our elite squads. Even with the defenders exhausted, that mountain will make their last stand strong. That is where you come in.”

The vampire ran his tongue over one of his fangs, his expression one of sadistic pleasure. “I guess I’ll inform my entourage of the good news then.”

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by an explosion behind them. Everyone turned around to see the besieger’s camp going up in flames. Then the camp alarms could be heard.

“We’re under attack?!” Saladin exclaimed. It made no sense. He had scouts set about the region. Even if an enemy army could have somehow made it here in time to help Valhiem, they would not have been able to get here without Saladin knowing about it. Not without The Wellsprings. “How!”

Saladin shut the computer down, rendering the golden cube inert. He put it away and the hordes of skeleton warriors known as the Bone Legions remained statue-like.

“Dark Riders, to the camp!” was the order transmitted through the magical relay to the Dark Rider Captains. They blew their horns and shouted orders that saw their units reforming into wedges and flying from their position near the North Gate of Valhiem, across the fields to the camp. “Men of Rudiger, you aswell! Fell Knights with me.” Then he turned to his second in command. “Hold the rest of us here and be ready for my command.”

The vampire was no longer playful but deadly serious. If this army had gotten by the scouts then it was skilled and well-commanded. This could be trouble.



Whatever Pete and Olaf of the Thieves’ Guild had done, Alison’s insurgency operation had done enough to at least temporarily stunt the progress of assaulting forces. The pressure was still heavy on the walls and the battle for the North Gate was intense, but that pressure had stopped growing heavier and heavier, at least for now.



In her moment of desperation, as her mind formed a last gasp plan to overcome her superior foe, Alison would feel the hum of her Source Crystal - The Gift - as it called out to the very fabric of existence. The lifeforce of her dead enemies faded..

That last wolfman was a lifeforce just strong enough to fill her Source Crystal, which shone purple to signify:

Ascension - The Rogue had ascended to a new level of strength. Her class-specific attacks would be innately, significantly more powerful. Her body could handle more damage, and her resistance to slashing, piercing, crushing or elemental injuries was considerably higher too. Her current abilities would grow, new capabilities would be born, and a higher capacity to learn more powerful things was apparent.

Ascension - The true power and realisation of The Gift of the Source Crystals.

Pathetic.

This was the overall sentiment of Zacharius, not just of the people from another world, but of Zigmund Mugba-Zarak. 

“Such a pathetic thing you were, Zigmund,” he said, talking more to himself than to his opponent. The metal man sighed, then swept away a group of trees with a swing of his axe as he walked closer to Adam. Predictable.

“Always so prideful in your skill, your power. And you couldn't even kill someone as weak as this?”

More trees. And with that, another literal motion to destroy them. Almost effortless.

“Really, it was just borrowed strength anyway. It was never really yours.”

The same thing, again. With the same result. Zacharius could hear heavy breathing from the Druid. It had to be desperate at this point.

“No matter. I will do what you couldn't, Zigmund. I'll kill this odd man and all of-oh, what a surprise.”

This last, he said thick with sarcasm, again using his axe to destroy the trees sent his way. But what the man didn't realize until after he had swung was that there really was a surprise headed his way; an entirely new plant hidden behind this arboreal cluster. A strange one he had never seen before, which had the shape, size and pattern of a whole watermelon, with the stripes being an almost black-colored hue of blue and the rest being a slightly lighter red. It would be impossible to dodge this. Zacharius realized just now that Adam had been timing his earlier strikes, making sure that whatever this was would hit him the first time. No matter. It would be be useless, just like-

“YEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”

The agony! The pain! Oh, the soul fusion was nothing compared to this. The strange plant was actually an acid bomb, one that exploded on impact with his metal skin. The bright green liquid that was currently melting him alive was beyond anything he had felt before, that was for sure. He had underestimated this Druid, and now he had paid with his life.

Pathetic.

Adam watched Zacharius die with a mix of relief and a slight amount of pity. Despite knowing the latter would kill him given a tenth of a chance, he knew what kind of suffering he had gone through. There was no time to dwell on that though; the city was still in danger. The monster had been dissolved completely by the acid bomb, so there was no need to worry about that anymore.

…but what had just appeared in Adam's hand?

"I couldn't save him," MacKensie mumbled, at her closest to death. Grimes. His face was in her mind as the end neared. He'd saved her and yet she could not save him. It hurt so bad.

She'd gotten to James just in the nick of time. Her ghostly grey colour quickly began to tinge with peachiness as blood platelets began to multiply rapidly in her veins. Her adrenaline was gone and with her ascent back to healthiness, the worst pain came back to her arm. Then, the Lesser Restore began to take hold and her focus and conciousness strengthened further. She blinked twice and looked up at the furrowed brow of her friend, then sighed with relief and checked her arm. She would get another chance. Another chance to save The Rabbits and Valhiem.

"You are a godsend, my friend," she said to James. She found herself able to stand easier than she expected - the incredible power of magic - although she could barely move her right arm properly. Uncertainly, she looked at James and told herself as much as she told him, "I can still fight." But he informed her that her arm would be fine in a few minutes. Her brow furrowed, nonetheless she nodded with gratitude and relief. A few minutes was a long time to stand around during a battle. "The retreat is going well?" she asked Second Chance's leader, looking down on the battle. Then she realised that very few mages were left. It was worrying that James was left with so few melee combatants or attacking wizards around him. "You should be going too, no?"

She would of course accept his response. James was a brave man and proven to be extremely capable. Who was she to urge him to retreat? Regularly the frenchwoman would try to open and close her fist on her right arm. It is taking too long!

When she saw one of her Rabbits fall, enough was enough. "I can wait no longer. Adieu, mon amie."

She hopped off the edge of the platform into a straight drop, feet first, making sure to fire her grapplehook at the edge of the platform so she could control her descent. As she hit the floor, she burst forward, two steps all the time that was needed to reel in the blue beam/wire back to her gauntlet, then fired again at the wall where The Rabbits were fighting.

The unfortunate orc to break MacKensie's flight, got a dagger in its head as she crashed into it. Once again, she only had her left arm to fight with, but she was no bleeding out, no longer fatigued and her right arm was slowly coming back to life. She fought ferociously. And The Rabbits fought even harder when they realised her presence. "The Captain is back!"

"Fenna!" she blurted out in sheer exuberation when she saw her friend so close by. The Rabbits and The Falcons were now next to eachother. MacKensie fought her way over to the other Ranger and began to fight around her in synchronicity, covering her back and being covered in return. The two Rangers - Captains - the strong duo that linked both blocks together, began to clear the wall with speed.

A little bit of pressure eased in the localised area of the wall, freeing more soldiers to lend their swords elsewhere.

It was a tactical battle between not over reaching and leaving a gap in the shield wall but to find their target, positioned with such a height advantage difference. To stray too far from their friends would leave them surrounded by these scaly beasts and that would result in certain death.

The ferocious lizard towered over the top of the troops in close proximity, the monster’s head luring over them. The eye contact must have been terrifying and what was more was when it snapped towards a fellow comrade and chewed a chunk of bone mixed with flesh, removing half the soldier's neck from his body before it flung the meat away. As one body hurled away in mid air like a ragdoll, Warren watched as the row became frantic with their attacks, fear misplacing their spears. One lizard stepped onto a soldier, the massive green monstrosity drove its weight upon their shield, crushing them under its clawed foot.

Warren shouted out words of encouragement, reminding the soldiers how well they have fought up to this point. He told them that their enemies will not take their lives without paying in blood. Some grew in heart to listen to his words. The best of them did not need encouragement, but it still bolstered their own spirit and resolve, pushing them to fight on. But some of the new recruits and young ones seemed to succumb to fear and a rare few even stayed behind their shields, dropping their spears all together and cowering. This was why Barracker had always known to protect his weaker members in the center of the formation.

Barracker had fought his way into the thick of the enemy and unintentionally separated himself from his group, out of desperation to draw as many of these green monstrosities onto himself, all in a bid to lessen the burden on his group. This now meant that he was unaware of what was happening behind himself hoping it would not descend into tragedy without him there but he had confidence that they had Warren. Warren was not just a soldier but a capable seasoned Paladin who had always shown promise in the school of Paladin’s Respite. Anyone could put their trust into the man, to follow as their leader.

The Dire Stags charged in an abundance of power, joining the fight and relighting the fire of the defender’s energy and boosting morale with their presence. It was a blessing and the next thing needed to push the battle into their advantage.

Barracker was surrounded by scales, teeth and halberds. This was not anything new for the former monster hunter. In the midst of battle, he shuffled his feet, twirling his body in a dance to avoid the halberd's strikes and snapping jaws. In an explosive display, he shield-bashed a lizard in the snout, rocking the monster's brain at the same time as knocking the vampire away and into jumping, crushing kick off that knocked a second lizard over. Bouncing like a pinball, he pushed off that kick and up into the air before bringing his weight into a sweeping down-slash upon the neck of another third lizard. This constant movement kept him as safe as his tower shield did.

Barracker slid underneath a bite of another giant lizard, slicing the stomach open along and popping back onto his feet. Before the lizard came crashing down, Barracker was met with a halberd strike towards the back of his head. As Barracker turned around, the strike just came into view and the Paladin shield-parried with such force, it sent the halberd flying away into another rider. Barracker skewered the weaponless rider, then used the leverage to drag the enemy off their mount and flung him into another rider, knocking them, toppling off.

Drink. Rend. Reap.

The goblin was skewered with such force that the hilt of the Black Sword hit the creature's abdomen. For a split second before death, that goblin would come eye to eye, nose to nose with Baphomet's Champion. In this moment, with red eyes full of pain and fear, and green eyes full of rage and hatred...

It was difficult to tell who the monster was.

"...Rrrgghaaa!" Zell lifted the goblin off the ground slightly as he kept pushing and charged a few steps into a group of corrupted tribesmen. A two-handed grip switch to one-handed and he smashed his fist into the ugly green face of the lifeless corpse that slid off his sword. The sequence saw him spin, his green cloak whirling into the face of one tribesman, temporarily blinding the wall-assaulter, while Zell freed his sword in time to block an incoming strike from another. They could not resist him. One by one, he put them all to slaughter. All who stepped to him.

While it looked like Zell was an invincible wrecking ball, racking up a kill score worthy of a professional Call of Duty player, upon closer inspection, one would see that the brand-new steel pieces of his armour were full of nicks. The leather parts were full of cuts, some stained with Zell's blood. His aggressive approach - (that had progressed to careless and now full-on beserker) - was not without it's drawbacks. Fortunately for him, Zell had always been a meathead gym-bro. He was strong and tough, and this magical world had saw fit to accentuate those characteristics of his. But it was not just his front line adventurer Class that was powering him now. With every day that passed, it would seem that the Oblivion Prince of Might saw fit to dripfeed Zell more of his power. The angrier Zell got, the easier it was to ignore pain.

Unbeknownst to the Captain of the Lions, things had gotten hairy on the wall, with the sheer weight of numbers beginning to crush the retreating defenders. Sure, Zell had heard the orders for the tactical retreat, but he was not about to bother himself with the overall strategic picture of the battle. As long as The Lions were to stay on the wall, Zell's only concern was killing. And so Zell did not notice that when the defensive line was stretched too thin and the Right Wing were ordered to close ranks with The Centre, friendly faces were nearby.

"!!!" When he saw Fenna, it was like static-shock sounded off in his brain.

All of the anger drained from his face and he stared at the Captain of the Falcons for second as he started to realise all of the important things about who he was and why they were in this situation. It actually amazing that he'd even forgotten - or maybe 'shoved into the very back of his mind,' would be a more appropriate phrasing. He had friends, he had a mission to figure out why they were all in this world. He had mother, a sister, a father... he was a goofball macho dumbass. He was halfway in love. How had all this so easily just faded into distant memory?

"Agh!" Quick reflexes, but not quick enough. He'd grabbed the wrist of the dwarf and stopped the dagger going into his waist too deeply, but nevertheless it pierced flesh. Notably, it actually hurt.

Zell managed to twist and drive his sword into the dwarf, whose strength waned quickly after and Zell was able to pull the dagger free from his waist. "Dammit."

No time for standing around staring. Back into the fighting. But now with sobriety. He had a city to defend. He had his Lions to lead. He had friends to see at the end of this.

Fenna directed her Falcons when needed, but the fight had turned to the more chaotic "everyone for themselves". There were too many enemies on the wall to truly strategize. They had to fight, kill as many of the enemy as they could.
"Watch your defence, don't give them an opening!" Fenna reminded a few soldiers who were getting into a too heated fight with the enemy. "You guys, close up ranks. Don't let them get through!"

When a familiar voice called her name Fenna only briefly looked up to verify it was MacKensie, before turning her attention on the battle. It was a huge relief to see her friend wasn't dead, but one she couldn't focus on. She nodded to MacKensie when she joined her and they stayed together. Attacking the enemy, defending each other. Enemies fell where the two rangers went.

Falcons and Rabbits started to mix. That was fine, there wasn't anything strategic about this part of the battle anyway and Fenna didn't stop them. They formed a block like their captains. Both teams had suffered losses, but combined they had the manpower and strength to slow down the invaders on the wall.