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[Vortigern]

Ansvael wandered along the rampart, lost in thought. Perianthor was a competent commander, but no more. It pained Ansvael to think of the lives that would be needlessly lost under his guidance, but Ansvael, though a cunning wordsmith, lacked any real influence over the council, and was unable to really make his opinion count beyond a powerful and moving argument. The Arcadynes would just have to wait until Perianthor sent thousands of men to their deaths before they would see the worst of him.

Ansvael ceased his perambulation at the foot of the north-western tower on the wall, and stared out over the plains and fields of Aldua. Only days before men and women had streamed along them, dragging their lives behind them. Now they lay silent and untended; this year's crop would be a disaster. Ansvael suddenly caught sight of a distant movement. On the far horizon a dust cloud was rising. Now what could be causing that? he wondered. He strained eyes and ears, hoping to catch some giveaway of what it was, from far across the silent, placid fields. A minute or so later he suddenly caught a flash of bright, silvery armour in the glow of the setting sun, he was certain. Instantly he sounded the alarm, and within only a couple of minutes Arcadynes began running up to the walls to see what the commotion was. Ansvael remained, standing stock-still, watching the approach of the still-distant soldiers. But soon everyone had noticed them, and the news was spreading. What was it? Had the Iron Empire marched on Pardol Gorge? Were they all, even as they spoke, doomed to fight and die in defence of their sacred fortress? Ansvael sent someone to fetch Perianthor and the other Kings from their chambers. The Telucid came storming out, demanding to know why he had been disturbed.

"See for yourself, Telucid," said Ansvael grimly. Perianthor glowered at him and peered out over the crenellations, and reeled back as though hit the instant his eyes caught the moving army. "It's about time you started leading, I think," murmured Ansvael, and turned away.

Edited by Vortigern, 05 February 2008 - 12:06 AM.

[Vortigern]

The captain of the Iron Legion, Nai Kakartus, smiled grimly as the walls of Pardol Gorge hove into view. He did not hurry the men into position, but let them get there at their own pace. They were the ones who had the time to spare here; Nai Kakartus and Var Shalrius, along with the other captains, had made a point of learning what they could about the Arcadyne culture and way of life before invading, and they knew that the Arcadynes would never abandon Pardol Gorge, even if they were given the chance. The infantry readied themselves and the siege weapons, and the two thousand mercenary footmen with the army began mixing their foul concoction of ochre and blood. The Parrian had some disgusting tendencies, not least of which was to eat the liver of enemies killed in single combat; they believed courage and skill came from the liver. Nai Kakartus knew that was rubbish; courage came from the guts, everyone knew that. It just made sense.

The infantry hauled up the ladders, and, under a loose hail of arrows, began to push them up against the ramparts.

- - - - -

Ansvael watched with some satisfaction as Perianthor dithered and panicked, but abruptly his demeanour changed.

"Ansvael!" he shouted. "Take every man out here and defend the walls. Nalaheld, Vaskarn, you join him!" The plains kings had just arrived on the scene, bemused but excited. Cereus meandered through the throng and up beside Ansvael.

"He's useless, is Perianthor." Ansvael grunted in agreement. "We'll never hold under his guidance. Why did you suggest he take charge?"

"Because then he'll be shown up as the useless lump of flesh that he is, son," replied Ansvael. "All men with bows!" he shouted, leaning past Cereus' shoulder. "Fire on the ladder crews! If we can stop them getting the ladders up there's not much they can do to us!" But his orders were in vain; there was still far too much confusion around the ramparts.

"We're all doomed," muttered Cereus, leaning heavily on his spear.

"Aye, you just might be, with just a puny little spear like that," said the Jomsii King. "Get yourself an axe, my boy. Serve you much better than any pointy stick you can name." Cereus grinned.

"You won't be saying that when I've saved your life four or five times by the end of the day."

"Aye, and you won't be saying that when I've killed a hundred more Forgelings than you." They both grinned in anticipation. Old though he was, Ansvael was still excitable when it came to battle. He had never got over the adrenaline rush, although he was careful never to let it rule him. The first ladder crashed against the wall to the right of where they stood, and Iron Legionaries began swarming up it. Ansvael strode over and grabbed the top of it, pushing with all his might. He let out a mighty roar as the ladder toppled backwards, sending the heavily iron-clad soldiers tumbling to the ground.

"To arms, men!" shouted Cereus, in lieu of their high command, who seemed to have vanished.

"To arms and to the walls!" echoed Vaskarn, re-emerging with his sword and shield on his arms, fully armoured.

"To arms, to the walls and to death or glory!" shouted Nalaheld, following the spirit of the day. He launched his first arrow from there in the courtyard, and it arced high over the wall to land aimlessly in the grass, but the symbolism was there. The Kings were here to fight and to die if necessary, and no Forgelings would stand in their way.

[some_weirdGuy]

Malaki was flying towards Pardol Gorge when he noticed from his high vantage point dust, he soon saw that a great army was coming
"The Iron Empire! quick dusty, fly!" the wasp went into a steep dive, to land on the wall of the fortress, he went to the nearest guard
"You! listen to me, the Iron Empire, their army is marching in! you have to get ready!..."
but the guards rudely snapped him off
"How did you get here! do you really think i would beleive you? the Iron Army here already!? Pah! your probably a spy! and as such i will be taking you to the dungeon for interrogation!"
"What!?" said Malaki, he couldn't believe his ears
"Why would i lie about something so important! and a spy!? do i look like a spy to you!?"
"That! is for the interrogators to decide!" yelled the guard back, all the commotion attracted more guards
"Where did he come from?" said one "how did he get up here?" said another. almost as if to answere that question, dusty came from around the battlement
"Ahh! what is that!?" said the guards as they jumped back "i heard of things like that in the deserts of the Telucid!"
"yes yes! i have come a long way, and im telling y-... a messenger ran to the guards
"Quick, ready everyone you can, the iron Empire is coming!" at this the guards looked at Malaki, they had been caught out
'... who is this guy?" said the messenger
"..err, some Telucid, he was.. claiming the iron empire were coming..."
"dont just stand there gawking! get to arms, i'll help spread the message, then i need to see my king..." at that Malaki jumped back onto his Stead Wasp, flying down the battlements yelling out the news...

"The Iron Empire is Coming! Ready Yourselves!"

[Vortigern]

((Come on guys! Do something, someone who isn't SWG or me! I can't push this whole thing through on my own! ))

[war_angel]

Alastor, and the other men from his village were closing in on Pardol Gorge, there was no more than 50 of them, but they could still help, As they drew up to the massive wall, they could see in the distance, an army of men.
"The Iron Empire..." whispered one of the men.
"Alright men," shouted Alastor, he was not their leader, but this was not a formal body of men, their tribe's army was off with the king, and Alastor decided to take charge.
"we need to help these guys, this is why we are here, look," he pointed into the distance along the wall, "there the army that protects Pardol Gorge is already forming, we will join them."
He looked around the men all on horses, half of them were war veterans, and half had never fought before, they all nodded,
"Hiiyaa!" his horse galloped on towards the lines of defending men, Alastors men alone would not fend them off, but all together, these armies stood a chance, he hoped!

((i wasn't really sure how the gorge thing looked, or what side i was coming from, but oh well, if you have any problems just say))
((Vortigern: EDIT: They're actually all inside the castle already, that's what needs defending, not the plains behind it. You can still get in through the eastern gate, as the Iron Empire are only on the western side. But yeah, that's the sort of thing. Go join them and go shoot people. We'll say that there are forces still coming in through the gates, and you're going to join them.))

Edited by Vortigern, 09 February 2008 - 01:34 PM.

[Fire Ze Missiles!]

((OOC: Well, Vortigern's gone, but I'm living up to my promise. Let's try to keep this moving shall we? Here comes the next wave... PS, Please note that I've created a character here simply for the purposes of this post as my Character is not here right now.))

As Perianthor strode round the outer courtyard, bellowing irrelevant orders to his dark-skinned cavalry, Galmon the Black watched sadly. He was stood next to the Kings Ansvael and Cereus, and had overheard their musings. He knew that Perianthor and his men would surely die, and despite the man's blustering, he knew that Arcady needed every King it had in these dark times. As the King's conversation turned to the battle to come and the enemies they would slay, Galmon ceased to listen and turned his attention out over the wall. As he leant on his spear, the grizzled warrior's keen eye quickly picked out the individual units among the Empire's forces and where they were going. But what he could not decipher was exactly what they were doing.
The professional soldiers were lining up in some kind of incredibly tight shield wall, with the howling mercenaries arrayed in loose groups behind them. Galmon could see the ladder carriers littered about the men, but how were such tight-knit formations supposed to climb ladders and survive?
It was as he thought this that the enemy began to move. They advanced until they were just within bowshot, and several eager troops began to loose a hail. But Ansvael's powerful voice quickly stopped this - Galmon knew that it was a waste of arrows when the enemy were so far away. As the hail stopped, as the Iron commanders must have known it would, the units advanced once more, their strong shields impervious to projectiles. Galmon heard Cereus curse in frustration. Ansvael laughed a reply involving the words "More for us."
Suddenly, the shields of the Iron soldiers broke apart, and the barbarians behind them began to stream through the gaps, surging up the ladders that were quickly brought slamming against Pardol's ancient walls. Galmon looked around him, and grimaced. The scattered defenders could never hold against this many enemies...
It was then that the clarion call resounded, and the thunder of hoof-beats could be heard through the Eastern Gate. Reinforcements had finally arrived! ((That means you War_Angel)) With a new, fierce determination in his heart, Galmon raised his spear, knowing that he would run through the first savage to set foot on these walls. The Iron Empire would not take this wall...

[Cheshire Fox]

((I think I'll actually show up just after or near the end of this battle as a doctor...))

[Fire Ze Missiles!]

((...well that wasn't very enthusiastic from anyone. Not impressed guys! Come on, just kill somebody I'll post again on Thursday hopefully, but I don't intend to fight this by myself y'know.))

[war_angel]

As Alastor and his men charged towards the gates, the soldiers defending the gates roared and flew forward, and Alastor quickly yanked the reins to the right, swiftly turning the horse towrds the battle, as he drew close he raised one of his javelins, poised for the kill, and his men behind him drew thier bows, "YAAARRGGHH" roared Alastor as he threw his arm forward, sending the javelin hurling through the air, it hit straight into the head of the first attacker, who was brought straight to the ground, and then all the men around him were hit by the arrows and then the storm of men protecting the gates.
Alastor threw himself backwrds off of his horse, tapping it with his right foot before he hit the ground, with this the horse turned and fled back to the gate, all his men did the same, "Draw your swords men, we're here for the whole fight," he shouted as he drew his own blade, he ran towards the massive line of men fighting to the deaths, addrenaline filled him up as he took his first slash, killing a man straight out, this was truly war!

[Fire Ze Missiles!]

The blue-painted barbarians surged up the walls like the animal force of nature they were. They had no orders, yet they moved with a strange unity, as if every man knew precisely the situation of every other. The effect was disconcerting, almost enough to make Galmon's first spear strike miss its intended target. Almost, but not quite.
But even as the unfortunate mercenary tumbled to his demise, three more swarmed to take his place at the walls. Galmon struggled to keep them at bay as they dived and slashed, screamed and yelled. With a powerful feint and thrust, he ran one through and leapt forwards, pushing him and the others back to the battlements. This gave the grizzled warrior enough time to draw his sword, giving him some chance of contending with the rest.
As the first man slumped to the floor, the other two advanced warily towards him. They split apart, left and right, bringing themselves around to Galmon's flanks. He circled slowly, his eyes flicking back and forth as he struggled to keep both in view. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead as the murderous men feinted at him, rushing suddenly forward and leaping backwards, unleashing shrill whoops of bloodlust. Suddenly, they charged as one without stopping, their blades held high, their cavernous mouths wide open. Galmon's move was swift; swift enough to slay his foe on the left, the unfortunate's face forever frozen in a rictus of hatred. But he was not swift enough to save himself.
The second warrior shouldered him to the ground - Galmon felt the harsh collision driving the breath from his lungs. The man was poised above him, sword raised, ready for a back-handed plunge into his Galmon's chest. He knew then that he would die, he could see it in the every movement of the warrior. He could hear it in his own wheezing breath, he could feel it in the soft wind rustling his face; he could taste it in his bloodied mouth.
As the blow began to descend, Galmon's life did not flash before his eyes. He saw only what was around him, in brilliant, dazzling detail. He noted the sweaty, bloody sheen of the mercenary's skin, the soft arc of an eagle swooping low over the battlefield, the sun glinting beautifully of the axe-blade swinging out above him...
His world turned red. Screams. A squelch. A grunt. Galmon wiped the back of his hand over his eyes, the blood slowly wiping from him. Ansvael, the Jomsii King, stood triumphantly over the mangled corpse of his would-be killer, the axe in his hand.
"C'mon, lad." he said, extending his free hand to the prone Galmon, "No time for lying about now." The miraculous man pulled Galmon to his feet, grinned, and charged back into the heat of the battle. Some men, he reflected, retrieving his spear, were utterly alien to the rest of mankind...

[war_angel]

Alastor was in the heat of battle now, fighting along side the protectors of Pardol Gorge and anyone else who didn't want to see it fall into the iron legions hands. He swung left, slicing the arm off of an incoming soldier, then decapatating him where he stood. He quickly turned right bringing his blade up through the chest of another soldier, he could see his men fighting around him, they were skilled with their blades, but were being overwhelmed. Alastor glanced behind him just in tim e to see a blade about to crash down on his head, he raised his sword and held it strong, the enemy blade came smashing into it with alot of force, but Alastors grip was strong and he forced it to the side, delivering a sharp kick to the mans stomach, and bringing the blade down onto his head.

Ther was a brief moment where no one was attacking Alastor, and he had just enough time to draw his used javellin from the floor, he had been keeping and eye on ti since he had thrown it, he raised it up, searching for the most appropriate target. From where he stood he could see a man, possibly a general shouting at his men, he poised the javelin and let it fly,it went straight through the masn chest, and as he flew backwards the mighty axe of another soldier smashed his fdace into the ground. Alastor then drew his sword, and again began to kill.

[Vortigern]

Ansvael grinned savagely as he landed blow after blow on the invaders, smears of blood painting his face crimson. He had saved the life of more than one of his fellow Arcadynes already, and was encouraged to see Cereus doing just as well, defeatist though he was. The Alduan Prince seemed to be fighting with a single-minded bloodlust, risen no doubt because of the annihilation of his people and his homeland, which from the wall he could see stretching out before him, plagued now with Iron. Ansvael thundered his axe into the chest of a ochre-skinned warrior, hurling him from the wall, and gained himself a moment of reprieve in which to survey the battlefield. The line was holding. The fresh contingent of Trivantes were definitely helping, and Pardol Gorge looked safe for the moment, though Ansvael refused to rest for longer than a few seconds while the sacred fortress was in jeopardy.

A horn blew out across the plains, and the naked warriors on the wall paused, giving the Arcadynes a chance to crush them, which was taken with dramatic malevolence and a sense of vengeance as no Arcadyne had ever before encountered. Those mercenaries still on the plains below had retreated, and let the profesionals come forward, towers at the ready. Quickly Ansvael serached for fire to ruin them, but there was none. The braziers of Pardol Gorge were stone cold.

"Cereus!" he shouted. "Form as tight a line as you can. They'll be coming in the shell thing." That was as close to professional tactics as Ansvael could be bothered to remember. After a minute of breathless anticipation, the first tower neared the wall, and the gate crashed down, releasing the Legions, hungry for blood.