Helcêh's Corruption - The City of the Kalkechián

[Br3admax]

Yalveni held out an arm and tried to concentrate, "Do these people look like mages to you? If they were, don't you think that they get common sense. You focus on killing things and I'll focus on giving orders to those under my command." He launched a wave of fire at the shaman Navar had tried to kill.

[POMC S117]

The City

Yalveni's chain of fire whipped forth from his hands, driving forward like creatures tearing away from a houndmaster's whip or the snapping jaws of a hunting wolf. There was a plume of smoke as the ork's shield began to weaken under the powerful flames. This was enough to draw the shaman's attention from the wall and to Yalveni, or whoever was using the spells. The shaman did not know. He could not fight back, but he would be damned if he were going to do nothing. He raised his hand to channel Yalveni's spell, his palm swallowing the magic as if it were the snapping jaws of a dog being fed its dinner.

[The SheoDovah]

Navariësé nodded as she released another arrow as soon as a volley of arrows was launched into the horde. She knew she would run out of arrows soon and would be unable to help to defend the wall untill the orks were on the wall itself. But for now, she would aid in the volley of arrows.

[Rook]

Gailen struggled to fire quickly, he was used to picking off individual targets. Nevertheless, he kept shooting into the seething mass of bodies.

[Br3admax]

Yalveni was up to the challenge, he raised his other arm and started channeling more magic. Trying to concentrate, thinking of the spell consuming the world. Though a scary thought, it helped him.

[Dirty Spaceman]

"Alright, take cover wherever you can along the wall!" Ronin directed his men, pointing to all the potential cover spots he'd noticed. "Archers, prepare to fire at the orks! We're useless against those shamans, but aim for whatever non-magic leaders you can spot!"

[POMC S117]

The City

The orks were shaved down, their ranks thinned, but still more came to take their place. Many of them had routed, only to be whipped back into the battle by their overseers who now stood guard at each entrance to the city, ready to avert any absconders.

The shaman twisted. His concentration was broken from the shield and turned completely to this new challenge, to the one who dared to take up arms against him, to insult the impiety of Norkel, to insult the darkness of shadow, to insult the eternity of corruption. The fire snaked and pulsed forward and the shaman took the spell into him more, feeding off of the magic, empowering himself with his enemy's force, like some rapturous wraith draining energy from life itself. And then, the shaman was torn up in flames, ash forming around him, the red glare of death approaching, the rats of hell coming through from the rifts below and swallowing him in fire. Yalveni was released from the magic and fell back as his own returned to him prematurely. One shaman had been slain, but seven more stood firm and waiting.

[The SheoDovah]

Navar continued to assist with the volleys by firing her arrows at the same time as the others. She would continue to do this untill either the orks were too close for the volleys or she ran out of arrows.

Hidden:

POMC, this is the last post from me untill something else happens as i can't do anything else.

[POMC S117]

The City

Spoiler:

I have decided that the shield makes for a rather boring battle. Time to collapse it.

The shield was holding steady, holding firm due to the constant flow of magical energy being placed into, due to the continuous buzz of electricity, of movement, surging into it. The shamans were working away as quickly as they could, but at this rate, the shield would hold well into the next day. The legion would have arrived by that time and the orks would have been crushed, driven away by the well-trained and expert legion. But Norkel had other ideas for this battle, other ideas for his army, as so a great storm was conjured up above the city. The clouds were ripped from their positions in the sky and dragged into the air above the shield, grey and black tendrils stretching for miles as the clouds were strung in. A great swirling mass, a maelstrom, an evil tempest. Then, a great rumble that lasted for a whole minute and made the ground shake as if it had been ruptured by many great earthquakes.

Flash!

Bang!

Boom!

The clouds unleashed their deadly, incandescent payload. Cascading lightning. Glowing orbs. Shimmering disks. They smashed into the shield, causing it to fluoresce, to scintillate. Holes appeared in it. It was a very porous structure now, almost honeycomb-like. Then, it dissolved completely. Starting from its zenith, from the tip of the dome, it retreated into the ground before it dissipated in a wave of freak energy. And the orks were upon them.

The ladders, the towers of rickety wood that had stood impatiently outside the walls of the Old City, were thrown down, their metal clamps gripping on tightly to the stone of the walls. They had learned from their last encounter. No longer would the soldiers be able to kick down the ladders. No longer would they be able to push the ladders away. The ork horde could ascend on them. Unadulterated by death, unaltered by blade or arrow. The battering ram was readied. The orks carried it, an elite cohort, clad in armour, dragon helm, black armour, like ancient black statues, like malevolent daemons, like wraiths or shadows. The ram was put down, its strings readied, stringent sinews. It was tautened, pulled back, waited. It was released, it was pushed, it smashed forth into the door, barely denting it. Again. Again. The same result. The fourth time, a small crack appeared.

[The SheoDovah]

"What in Nature!?" Navariësé exclaimed as she watched the tendrils destroy the shield and regained her footing after the shaking had stopped. She put the bow away and waited for the orks to come within range of her blades. She would swing her left sword at the nearest's ork's arm and thrust her right at the ork's forehead.

Hidden:

Rewrote post as i made a minor mistake.

[POMC S117]

Spoiler:

Navariësé is on the west wall of the Old City. The gate is at the north.

[The SheoDovah]

Hidden:

Rewrote post. Had forgotten she was there and not where I thought she was.

[POMC S117]

The Wall

The surge of orks came over the wall, slouched over, wearing half-sacks, backs higher than their heads, mouths twisted, eyes weeping pus, with axe and sword and club. And Navariësé and the legionaries and the militia and the guards met them head on. Navariësé's sword drove into the shoulder of an ork. Her other sword pierced its skull. Then another one took its place, nay, another two, like an ugly hydra, many ugly hydras, that kept on coming, spat forth from the jaws of hell itself, from the fiery maw of death.

[The SheoDovah]

Navariësé swung her left sword at the ork's leg and swung her right at it's neck. If it blocked either strike, she would give it a powerful kick.

[POMC S117]

Spoiler:

Do you want to control the outcomes of your fight, have me control the outcomes of your fight or do the first until you get bored and then I take over?

[The SheoDovah]

Hidden:

Rather have you control them otherwise, i'll just be replying to myself most of the time.

[Dirty Spaceman]

"They're going to break through the gate!" Ronin exclaimed. He looked to see if he and his men would be able get all the way to the north gate by going along the top of the wall.

[POMC S117]

The Gate

Spoiler:

You're above the gate.

The Wall

Spoiler:

Understandable.

The ork was hewn down before it had even fully scaled the ladder. Its leg hit the ground first. Its head followed. Then the rest of the body was slumped on the ground at the foot of the ladder, where many orks now swarmed in an effort to climb to the top. Navariësé was only one woman. Although she could hold this part of the wall for hours on end, there were too many ladders for all the people on the wall to guard. Just in time, she noticed an ork approaching her from the right, ready to spring forth and assail her.

[The SheoDovah]

Navariësé turned to face the ork and charged at it. As soon as she was within range of it, she would swing her left blade at the beast's leg and swing her right blade at the orc's temple then give it a powerful kick.

[Dirty Spaceman]

Hidden:

Well, I'm dumb.

"Shoot those orks holding the battering ram!" Ronin instructed his archers. "Try to get your arrows past or around that armour, if you can!"

[Rook]

Hidden:

Where exactly are Gailen and the rest of the Baron's men? I've kind of lost track.

[Br3admax]

Yalveni went about trying to attack the rest of the shamans. "We can't falter!" He let loose more flame.

[POMC S117]

The Wall

Navariësé was already in range of the ork when it jumped. She was unable to bring her weapons to bear on the ork when it attacked her. At the best, she managed to block the orks attack, long enough for a legionary to run to her side and stab the ork. The legionary was in no condition to stop for a chit-chat and a thank you, however, as the both of them were attacked by a trio of very large, very angry orks, of the same kind that had stolen Navariësé's weapons.

One of the shamans had scaled the wall (well, by scaled, it would mean flew up there on the wings of a black shadow) and was zapping legionaries left, right and centre with his dark magic, causing many of them to have heart attacks or other fatal diseases. Yalveni was confronted by it. At such a close range, its presence bristled with a tempting darkness, a darkness that spoke sweet nothings in Yalveni's ear, that tried to win him over, that tried to taunt him, to tempt him, to twist him.

Spoiler:

Gailen and the baron's men are on the same wall as Navariësé and Yalveni.

The Gate

The legionaries with their javelins readied their pila for the first wave of orks that came over the ladders. Those with arrows listened to Ronin and fired upon the orks, trying to target their weak points (which happened to be many as the orks did not see the point in armouring their soldiers when they could just overwhelm the enemy with thousands upon thousands of homogeneous grunts. The first group of orks escorting the ram were slain by the arrows (accompanied with the arrows of other groups on the wall), though another bunch of them were eagerly waiting to take their place. They were similarly killed. People didn't seem to like the orks much and nobody could think why the orks looked so happy to be next on the line to be slain. Then some people thought of what orks' wives looked like, and then they knew why the orks were eagerly jumping up to be killed.

[The SheoDovah]

Navariësé recognised the orks and said "These are more aggressive then the others." to the legionaire. She knew it would be a tough fight. She barely survived her first encounter with the one with her weapons. She attempted to kick the nearest large ork in the knee with a powerful kick and would attempt to thrust both swords into it's stomach and neck.

[POMC S117]

The ork was unfazed by Navariësé's kick. With its shield, it blocked her attack and then rammed forth with the flat of the wooden surface. Navariësé was forced back by the impact. A second of these orks charged the legionary, stabbing at it with the sharp part of its axe. An explosive grunt came from the legionary as his armour was pierced by the weapon. A bit of blood spurted from the wound, but it had not penetrated any vital systems. Thus, the legionary was able to take revenge and stabbed the ork in the shoulder.