Last Stand of the Sorcerers

Two Months Ago

In the early hours of a summer night a festive atmosphere reigned in the Great Forest. The creatures of the dark were lively in the warm climate, crickets chirping their music like an outdoor orchestra, fireflies dancing about the ponds and streams, frogs boasting as loud as any man who wanted attention from the fairer sex. More subdued, the nimble deer were content to graze quietly and enjoy the warm air.

The real festival of activities lay deeper in the forest though. Following the river that snaked through the forest, one would eventually come across the Sorcerer's Stronghold. Much effort had gone into making the long abandon fort livable again, and two years of hard work had definitely paid off. The stone walls had been fixed up, the decaying wooden gates had been replaced, barracks, stables, and storage sheds had all been rebuilt. A mess hall and garden had been added, as well as a smaller complex that functioned as a school and library for the arcane arts. What had once been a large but isolated fort was now the Stronghold, headquarters of the Sorcerers. And within its reinforced walls, a party was taking place.

"And he has no idea I'm already on the roof, right? So he finally makes it up the ladder and is just about to swing himself over the top when I say, 'Hello'. He looks up and bam! Fireball to the face!"

The table erupted into laughter as Jeremiah finished his account of the fight against the cutthroats from the river villages. The muscular, red haired Sorcerer, who had been standing and making motion with his arms to highlight parts of the tale, took a bow.

Across the mess hall and down each table similar conversations were talking place among the multitude of Sorcerers who were at the Stronghold that night. Laughter and merrymaking, casual chatter and exciting recollections of past heroics, eating and drinking.

At another table Benjamin laughed as Kirren regaled her audience with the story of how she and another band of Sorcerers had helped to put out a forest fire farther south. A few people made cracks that Kirren, a dedicated fire mage, was probably the source of the fire, but it was all in good fun.

Enjoying the good times as much as any of them was Simon, sitting across from Ben at the table and trying to avoid work at the moment. "Yeah, I heard you, I'll just take care of it latter." he was telling Julius, "Just make a list of what we need and put it on the board." To which the bespectacled man he was talking to responded with, "A board is one of the things we need to buy!"

"Alright everyone, lend me your ears!" he shouted. There was a few moments of pause as he waited for the assembled warriors to settle down. Conversations ceased, forks and knives were set down, and everyone looked to Simon.

"First things first, how's the food?" A roar of approval. "Make sure you all thank Natasha and the cooking crew tonight for this excellent feast!" There was a round of applause for the motherly blonde woman standing at the kitchen door.

"Next, another round of applause for Darius, Felix, and Hanara! Who have finished their training and have today entered our ranks as full fledged Sorcerers! Congratulations to our new brothers and sister!" Another round of applause followed by more rambunctious cheering for the trio of graduates who looked about proudly, displaying their red Sorcerer sashes for everyone to see.

"And now," Simon continued, "I'd like to say a few things to mark this day. Today, as most of your are aware, is the Sorcerers' second anniversary! Two years ago just a dozen of us gathered on this very spot and vowed to make the world a better place using our muscles, our magic, and our strong hearts! The Sorcerers were born to defend the helpless and protect the innocent and by our example the kingdom is a safer and happier place then its been in decades! I look back on when we began and am proud of how far we've come since then. From just a handful of vigilantes we've grown to over tens times that number! From chasing away wolves for a few pennies we've taken missions to drive the goblins back into the mountains. People can't wait to give us donations now! And very soon, my brothers, the king will acknowledge us as a legitimate force in the realm! A new order of knights to bring back our glory days!"

Cheering erupted once more as everyone celebrated their victories and the promise of royal acknowledgement. Simon reached down for his mug and lifted it high into the air. "To us! To our brothers and sisters abroad on missions! To the generations who will follow in our footsteps! To to hope we have inspired! To all that we've done and all we've yet to do! To the Sorcerers and a new future!" he shouted. The rest of the Sorcerers wasted no time in repeating the the motion.

"To a new future!"

Present
-Seige of the Stronghold, Day 7-

Julius Herres was killed today by an arrow through the heart while attempting to repair a breach in the barrier above the Stronghold. As his assistant, it has now fallen upon me, Hanara Clavell to be the new Keeper of the Journal. I accept this responsibility and declare before God that I will do my utmost to provide a full and accurate account of the events concerns the Sorcerers.

It has now been ten days since the palace betrayed us and the Chief Warlock murdered our leader in cold blood and seven days since those of us who haven't been killed or captured were forced to retreat to the Stronghold where we have been besieged for the past week. There are exactly 174 of us as of my last count. We have enough food to last at least three weeks. Part of the first gate has been destroyed and is being reinforced with magic. Our hidden entrance near the river was discovered and we have been forced to seal it. Benjamin Wells has taken command of the Stronghold's defenses and continues to tell us that we will get out of this crisis alive. Since yesterday he has been sequestered in his quarters with some of the senior Sorcerers. Time will tell if his promises bear fruit. But looking outside and seeing the mass of soldiers arrayed before us, I can't help but feel our cause is rapidly becoming a lost one.

A loud crash from above made Hanara look up from her writing. Opposite of the wall she was leaning on while doing her work a huge rock that had been catapulted by the army at the Stronghold hit the semi-transparent barrier made of hundreds of Shield spells. As if it had hit a real wall, the boulder dropped to the ground, landing with a thud atop another that had been launched a few hours before.

"Roll call!" A booming voice called out, as if completely unfazed by the attempt to rain death upon the Stronghold. One of the Sorcerers stood in the center of the compound with a scroll and quill in his hands. He started rattling off the names of everyone who was still present, getting a "Here" or something similar in response.

"... Pita Ralzona... Macon Burrson... Hanara Clavell..."

"Here!" the Keeper yelled. The roll caller checked her name before continuing on.

"... Ariadne Bluerose... Tyriel Darkwind... Micahel Willowcove... Elis Brooker... Klaus Manhaus... Gareth Sage..."

edited 19th Mar '13 2:24:40 AM by Parable

"Here and alive" says former Sister Ariadne as she stands in full armor, reporting for the ledger before running off to get a check of the current situation. She had been forced to take a break and sleep for the second time since the siege started... but now she was ready to face a new day of horror.

A dark part of her relished the siege. It gave her an immediate and effective way to unleash her grief and pain on something productive and viscerally satisfying. Most of her self, however, realized how much they needed it to end... how they needed to find a way to escape. She had trained far too many of those who remained in here... and lost just as many in these horrible weeks. Everyone of them the best that the realm could ask for... people dedicated to the well being of the fellow man, working for a cause that is nothing but just.

And now, the nobles would try to snuff up that light. Ariadne grit her teeth at the very thought, defiance rising from deep inside her heart. She would not allow it to happen. No matter what happened to her, no matter how many people would come her way... she had to protect the legacy of that man.

"They haven't killed me yet!" Klaus called when his name was read. He didn't even look back from the wall he was currently hammering a board onto a window that needed some reinforcement. After so much, he couldn't help but be cheerful despite the situation. Indeed, he was glad Benjamin Wells was the sort of person who was planning how to get out of this alive, and not about how to take out as many of the King's men as they faced their inevitable death.

And that was good. It boosted spirits. For more motivation, he'd need to remember to keep people they'd lost, good people, like Julius, in mind the next time they fought with the soldiers.

He just wished they could get lumber more easily.

Among the many remaining survivors of the Sorcerors at the compound stood Tyriel Darkwind, seemingly deep in thought. While others were more concerned about this 'war' at the moment, if it can even be called that, Tyriel was still too engrossed in his mind, thinking about what had gone wrong. Wasn't the Sorcerors supposed to be the paragon of justice, its sole duty to protect the oppressed, the helpless and the weak from the threats of the world? If so, then why didn't the Kingdom commend their efforts and had instead brutally betray them by killing Simon and spreading out lies? Or perhaps they were true after all and that Simon wa-

He slapped himself for even considering that. After all, Simon was like a father to all of the Sorcerors. To believe that his intention was not what he had claimed it to be would be the same as GRAVELY insulting the very existence of the Sorcerors.

Thinking about all of these things had reminded him that day. The day whe-

The boy's mind soon returned back to the cold, harsh reality after his name was called and, in a way, was somewhat grateful for the interruptions.

"Uhh... here," He answered in a low tone and raised his hand as emphasis. Only now did he realize that the situations were looking grim for those within the fort....

edited 19th Mar '13 1:09:33 AM by JustSomeGuy732

"...Micahel Willowcove..."

Micahel squinted at blurred blotches of blue and white. He reached up and adjusted his glasses and the blotches became drifting clouds and blue sky, slightly off-set in colour by the barrier.

He tilted his head back to look in the direction of the roll-caller and raised a hand.
"Here!" he called, and, out of old habit added, "Sir!" right after.
The roll-caller marked down his name and went on to call the next name. Micahel, meanwhile, picked himself off the ground.
Rubbing the back of his head, he readjusted his glasses once more and surveyed the ground. His notes lay scattered all around him, his pocketbook-

With a little cry of dismay, Micahel dove for his treasured possession and pulled it out out of the puddle. Holding the dripping pocketbook up between two fingers, he quickly assessed the damage.
It seemed like he'd been lucky, though. The small book had been closed when it landed in the water and so the leather bindings had protected it from the worst. Only at one corner were the pages soaked and wavy.

He scrambled to his feet and brushed down his clothes. At least, this time there were no burnholes in them. The distinct lack of sulfurish burned-hair-smell told him that he probably still had his fringe and eyebrows.

Small mercies, but in times like this Micahel took all the mercies he could get with his bows and scrapes.

In times like these.

Micahel's gut churned at the thought of what sort of times these were, exactly, and he swallowed. Every time he allowed his focus to waver from what was right in front of him and think about this whole mess, he felt sick.

So he kept himself constantly occupied and thinking about anything but the big picture. Like just now, when he'd been using his time off the defences to practise that shield-modifying spell he'd found in one of the books. It had been coming along nicely. And then it had started raining boulders and the spell had, er...failed.

Micahel forced his attention back on magic and started collecting his notes off the ground.

Gareth attention had been temporarily drawn by the latest attempt to kill them all. As a result, he started when his name was called. Regaining his composure with great haste, the young man said dully, "Here."

Two months had passed since the celebration of their second anniversary. Two months seemed a lifetime ago. Then, they had been riding high on their achievements, and nothing seemed an impossibility for them to achieve - especially as they were Sorcerers. Now, though... now they had been brought to their knees with alarming speed. He could still remember the mixture of shock, grief and anger that had shaken him when he had heard the news of Simon's death. Those feelings still drove him onwards, feeding his belief that they had to be more proactive.

Looking at the others around him, Gareth could only hope that they understood his point of view. He could not see how victory - or even mere survival - could be secured otherwise.

"'ere!" Elis' voice was muffled by the pestle clenched between his teeth, his hands otherwise occupied by searching through an overgrown portion of the garden for the herb he needed. The mortar lay empty next to a book he was keeping open with his knee, the pages detailing a concoction that would help with minor bruises or wounds- something that his magic could already take care of, but he needed back-up for whenever what few healers they had left were too exhausted to tend to patients. Given the amount of injuries lately, a surplus of medical supplies was a must.

Eventually he pulled out a few sprigs of arnica, and quickly he started crushing the root and flowers of the plant into a paste. The menial task and fresh air kept him pre-occupied, for once allowing him a respite from troubling thoughts that had cropped up recently. He'd been keeping a close eye on their dwindling supplies, and knew from experience that their consumption was outweighing what little food they were receiving with the enemy force keeping them grounded.

It couldn't be helped of course, and given the recent death Elis felt it better that they remain cautious for the time being rather than take any unnecessary risks for food. Still, all their efforts in keeping themselves alive up to this point would be wasted if they were starved out.

Finishing the mixture Elis turned back to the book, thumbing through its pages for anything else he could make from the medicinal plants. Those, at least, they had enough of.

If Maria Annabelle Cornwallis stared at the map long enough, maybe it would design an escape plan on its own. She glared at the worn out outlines of the Stronghold on the yellowing parchment, and the little wooden blocks representing units in and outside it's walls, willing them to move in a way that would ensure victory. 20 unblinking seconds later she abandon that plan. Tossed into the ash heap of bad ideas just like the last half a dozen plans she had devised. They couldn't hole up here indefinitely because to reinforcement were coming to relieve them. The river was too wide and too rough to ford before being spotted. Their attempt to dig a tunnel outside had been detected, not to mention was taking forever anyway thanks to a lack of available earth mages. Forcing their way out was just inviting worse destruction with each passing day as the besiegers strengthened their position.

With a sigh, the young woman let her head fall to the table. Her sandy blonde hair settled about head like the ends of a rug. When she had first joined the Sorcerers, her hair had been long and lustrous, styled in a manner befitting her noble status. A distinct lack of the frivolities that had characterized her old life being present in the Stronghold had led her to cutting everything below the nape of her neck for tidiness sake. That had been one of the simpler adjustments to her life after leaving her father's house to join the Sorcerers. Still she had not regretted it. Getting a chance to live the life of one of the old heroes had been a dream come true, even if her gift with magic was not as pronounced with most of the others, despite her head start in life.

Still, balls and tea parties were looking remarkably more enticing right now then her current situation. Branded a rebel and a traitor, disowned and stripped of all titles.

Not all titles. She reminded herself while rubbing her arm. While most of the older Sorcerers wore their identifying sashes around the waist as intended, with the twin star they had adopted as their symbol facing forward, others had begun experimenting and personalizing their appearance. Maria wore hers over her sleeve, tied on her upper arm.

I'm still something so long as I have this.

She looked out the window, her eyes going higher than the ramparts. Waving defiantly above the Stronghold was the Sorcerer's red banner with its two shooting stars in the center flapping in the breeze. Maria wondered how long it would stay up there. How long until they were starved out or overwhelmed? Ben had looked to her to provide a plan with her being the sole person left in the fort with knowledge of military tactics, but all that knowledge was doing right now was telling her to surrender. Something she knew most of the Sorcerers were going to reject outright.

Sighing loudly again, Maria picked her head up and concentrating on the map again.

Ben noticed the sighs of Maria from across the room but said nothing. Trying to piece together the patches of information they were getting from the outside world was her immediate concern at the moment. The last messenger pigeon they had sent out had come back, and all the senior members of the group were gathered around Jeremiah as he magically unscrambled the letters into something legible.

"It's from Lancel Orrin." he said as the first line became clear. "He says the outpost in Mericano Town was taken, but everyone managed to escape. They made it to the Floating Mountains Outpost and now all 7 of them are hold up there. The army hasn't reached them over there yet, he says he doesn't even think they know about the outpost actually."

A sigh of relief escaped everyone present. That made 7 more Sorcerers who they could now confirm were not only alive but safe for the time being. Safer then they were, at any rate.

"Closer to home," Benjamin began informing the others, "A scout managed to slip back in last night. The Chief Warlock is sending golems to the forest. They'll be in were in at least three days."

The Sorcerers had been through too much to panic at this news. A sudden hush did descend upon the leaders of the rebel magic warriors though, as they contemplated the ramifications of the news.

Whatever they might have said at the time went unspoken for at that moment there was a bright flash from outside. A catapulted boulder had made contact with the barrier. Instead of falling after contact, momentum continued to push against the magical resistance and in this case rock beat magic. The barrier in that area was shattered. The magic shield literally breaking into pieces and collapsing, with the bits dissipating before they hit the ground.

"Shield down! Shield down! Everyone scatter!" Someone outside shouted. Punctuating his words two more boulders breaking other parts of the barrier. Sorcerers ran to the relative safety of the the walls or inside the compounds. Others, including Benjamin and those with him, hurried outside and began issuing orders.

"Stay out of the center! Keep an eye on the towers. You, you, and you, get over there and start recasting the shields!"

"Archers!"

It was at that moment the Sorcerers discovered just how many bowmen the army had set upon them when the sky was suddenly filled with arrows all raining down directly on them.

Hearing the cry of 'Archers' Ariadne peered out the window of the stronghold to catch the sight of the barrier bring broken in places and a flurry of arrows raining upon their courtyard "We can't remain taking blows like this. They got near endless resources to throw at us, while our strength wanes with each attack. We need to break through and make it out of here"

Micahel scrambled to his feet and bolted for the nearest shelter, ducking to make himself as small a target as possible and holding his hands over his head - as if that would safe him from an arrow.

He arrived in the shadow of a barn and pressed himself flat against the wall. The ground was already littered with arrows; several of them had struck at bad angles and shattered, others remained sticking up into the air. Micahel's heart skipped a beat when he cast a quick look at the bench where he had been sitting and found several shafts protruding from it.

Micahel shook his head and scanned the compound. He wasn't much of a ranged fighter; nothing he could do about returning the attack. But he had been working on his shields quite a bit recently.
Defence it was, then.
He released his breath slowly, inhaled sharply and pushed himself off the wall to dash across the compound to where a group of people was recasting the shields. He made sure to put his game-face on a moment before he reached them.

"Hello," he said with a light smile, "Nasty weather; dreadful downpour, isn't it just? Would you like a hand here?"

edited 21st Mar '13 3:31:33 PM by montmorencey

Klaus frowned as he heard shouting about the barrier and the arrows from outside. They were breaking through pretty damned fast, and they needed more people maintaining the shields and rebuilding, which was going to be difficult to accomplish when everyone was dodging an ancient tomb's worth of boulders and arrows.

He would keep reinforcing damaged boards and putting them back as long as he could, but it seemed to be getting worse. The best way to fix the problem would be to have less of the Army's things smashing into the Sorcerer's things in the first place. But at the moment, he simply enchanted another fallen board, and started nailing it where it would hopefully do some good.

Tyriel had noticed the disturbances just in time before the sky was filled with arrows upon arrows, each with the intent to harm or kill the Sorcerors within the fort. And that's not accounting the siege weapons and possible mages stationed just outside the fort.

Channelling his energy on both his feet, he dashed towards the nearest tower with the help of the air current produced below him, allowing him to cover the distance in a short span of time before the arrows had even hit the ground where he last stood.

Having heard orders that someone should keep an eye out for the towers beforehand, Tyriel comply and had wasted no time to climb up one of them to the top. At least he doesn't have to worry about the arrow rain while inside the tower. Boulders, on the other hand...

Should he successfully climbed at the top of the tower without any interruptions, he would walk closer towards the edge to overview the army located just outside of their bastion. But not before casting an average Shield spell in front of him, should anyone wishes to try their luck firing at the boy with spells and/or arrows.

The one good thing, he had to admit, about the current situation is that it helps to keep himself distracted from his thoughts. Back before everything went to hell, he was always known as a dreamer, constantly thinking about needless things unless he got something to preoccupy himself with. Now, with the war going on, he needed distractions more than ever. Was he, in any way, somewhat glad that the army had managed to break through their defenses? Even he himself could not tell...

edited 24th Mar '13 3:13:36 PM by JustSomeGuy732

Before Gareth had an opportunity to continue contemplating the Sorcerers' ill fortune, part of the shield broke. The enemy, unfortunately, seemed to have been waiting for just such a moment - why wouldn't they? - and were now sending arrows as quickly as they could launch them. Just barely resisting the urge to curse, Gareth scampered toward the safety of a nearby building. He briefly considered casting a shield to protect himself from the deadly rain of projectiles, but it might take precious time he could ill afford. And anyway, it appeared some of the other magic users (and Micahel) had the repair of the shield already underway.

Skidding to a halt, Gareth took a moment to regain his breath. He glowered at the arrows above him, as though he might ward them away from the Stronghold through sheer force of will. Since no such miracle was forthcoming, however, he had to make do with staying put until the torrent subsided. And knowing how many archers there probably were, that could take a while. Heaving with a sigh, the young man looked around himself to see if there was anything that needed seeing to.

The first few arrows had barely thudded into the shrubbery before Elis dropped the half-finished medicine and scrambled rather wildly for the closest shelter- that being the shadow of the storage shed mounted next to the garden (presumably for whatever tools were needed to maintain it). His back hit the stone with a thump as he worked quickly to regain his composure and assess the situation from the weak vantage point he had.

The barrier that had kept them safe was now a patchwork of holes and hasty repairs, but defense was not something that he was acutely knowledgeable on. Rather, his expertise were more for when protection wasn't enough and he needed to help with the aftermath- and until then he was content with hiding until his services were required.

Speaking of which... "Any injured?!" The first barrage of arrows littered the grounds, and amidst the chaos of rebuilding their shields it was difficult to make out what was happening with who. Regardless of whether anyone may even require his help, Elis started to murmur the first few incantations necessary for any healing spell.

"Sure, you got a spare left one I can borrow?" One of the men Micahel had run up to said gamely at his offer for a hand. He waved his own left arm near Micahel's face to show off the fact that it was, in fact, missing it's hand. Only a stump where the wrist would have been was left, with his Sorcerer's sash tied around it like a thick cloth bracelet. "Stick close and cast a - Aaarg!"

An arrow that had got through the patchwork of magical shield being hastily cast found its target in the man, hitting him in the arm that had just been in front on Micahel. He staggered backwards, screaming in pain. Other Sorcerers near looked over to him, torn whether to help of keep the shield from collapsing even more.

"Healer! We need a healer over here!"

Part of the tower had been damaged in a previous assault. With little material left for rebuilding someone had enchanted a set of wooden planks to use levitate above each other in sequence to form a floating staircase. Everybody who went up worried that they would be to heavy for the magic to sustain their weight or that the spell would wear off and they would plummet to the ground. Tyriel made it up the stairs, ramparts, and more stairs without any trouble aside from a few arrows that missed him by a wide margin. Up the tower however, he nearly ran into a young woman wearing her sash like bandanna. She yelped in surprise and nearly jumped out of her skin as he suddenly appeared next to her.

"Tyriel! My God, don't do that! I was so scared I almost jumped off the tower!"

As the brown haired Sorcerer moved to look over the wall, a huge figure suddenly flew up in front of him from below his field of vision. The girl shrieked in fear and instinctively crouched down as if to hide her presence. Another creature followed the first through the air, then another and another, each going faster then those on the tower could count. They went up high above the wall then swooped back down towards the fort, rushing through the gaps in the barrier.

Quaking, the girl with Tyriel managed to get her shaking legs moving and crawled over to the ledge of the tower.

"G-Griffons! Griffon Knights!"

The Griffon Knights, the sky mounted warriors in the service of the king, dived into the Stronghold as soon as the archery barrage ceased. Screeching their ear piercing call, clawing at anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the talons. The riders with their long pole arms lashed out at those their mounts did not get, spearing Sorcerers who were fighting or fleeing while their comrades circling above picked off the grounded Sorcerers with arrows or magic of their own. Orders were being barked, cries for support came from all directions followed shortly by cries for healers.

A mage riding behind one of the Griffon Knights threw a fireballs in Ariadne and Gareth's direction. Another dove with down with steel armored claws towards Klaus. More bore down on Micahel and the Sorcerers he was with while others circled over the towers, attacking those exposed on the their open tops.

Ben leaped out of the way just in time to avoid a lance meant for his stomach. Even as he pulled himself back up the incantation being spoken under his breath was nearly finished. A stream of fire rushed forth from his finger, missing the griffon but succeeding in getting it to pull back.

"Everyone, stick together! Take them out!"

The Siege of the Stronghold had just become the Battle of the Stronghold.

"S-sorry!" Tyriel apologized, mentally taking notes while breathing a sigh of relief. If she really did just that, he wouldn't know how to face himself with the others.

He was also overlooking those beyond the walls when suddenly, soldiers mounted atop of griffins have undoubtedly surprised him with their presences and the girl's statement had only confirmed his worries. Great. Now we have to fight against trained knights riding on a magical flying creature. Lovely. Even an idiot could tell that the Sorcerers were at a clear disadvantage.

First things first, he quickly move himself away from the ledge, but not before pulling back the woman away from it as well. "Stay away from the edges." In this type of situation, standing dangerously close to the edge of the tower would simply tempt their enemies to gently push them over and send them towards their falling death. Oh, he knew that from his first experiences fighting against the harpies at the very end of a cliff. It was not pleasant.

Now, to deal with the annoying knights. Tyriel kept his distance from the woman, far enough to not impede his own movement with hers yet close enough to provide quick assistance should she requires it. Hopefully, she's capable enough to protect herself on her own.

Standing perfectly still with his dagger drawn(which may seem useless against those that can fly and wields a spear), he closed his eyes, shutting off his reliance on sight. Instead, he merely focused on his senses of hearing alone enhanced with magic, allowing him to better perceive his surroundings. And already, he could sense a griffon knight charging towards him at his back.

Silently anticipating for the opportunity to present itself, he waited. By the time they were near enough, Tyriel opened his eyes and quickly stepped to the side(with the aid of the wind currents on his feet), safely away from the griffin's claw and the spear wielder. However, that's not all as the wind magus turned to face the said griffon knight, perform a simple incantations and send a quick upward slash at the thin air before him, unleashing several small 'blades' from his dagger that quickly hurls themselves towards his foes, particularly at the griffin's abdomen. Since the griffon knight depends on.. well, griffon for aerial movement, crippling their pet would definitely impede the soldier during flight. That, and apparently griffon makes an easier target due to their size.

One crippled. He looked around. Annnd many more to go.... He sighed. Tyriel could tell that this is going to be a looong battle should he somehow managed to survive the entire ordeal, which he highly doubts. But at least he has been given a chance to fight back, right?

'So? That doesn't change the fact that you'll die a meaningless death if you stay with them anyway.'

'Shut up,'

'What, you still think that this'll be any different than last time? Heh, good luck with that. Now here's an advice: Run away while you still can. I'm sure they'll understand and even if they didn't, they'll die eventually for be-'

'I said SHUT UP!'

Setting aside his inner struggle for now, he eyed at the Griffon Knights around him cautiously. Whatever his mind had been thinking of lately, it can be agreed that they're all focused on one thing: Survival.

Ariadne stands before Gareth as she extends one hand to draw forth a shield wall to absorb the impact of the fireball "Everyone inside! Against walls! Don't let them crowd around you! Archers, long range casters! Let go at the skies!" cries Ariadne.

As she does, she twirls her polearm as she stands her ground, rushing to wherever the Griphon riders dive to attack a Sorcerer for her to then strike with her own long range weapon.

Hands racing to his ax like lightning, Klaus prepared himself for the Griffon when he heard a screech. His mind raced as he recalled his life before joining the Sorcerers. Memories of the otherworldly screams of the men, women, and goblins who were cut down. In his mind's eye, he saw the fires consuming his hometown. He saw the goblins. He saw the blood. He saw the death.

He had come to call this place his home, and he certainly would protect it at any cost. All men must one day face their death, but Klaus would be damned if he faced it like a coward. Never again. He stood firm where he was, his hands drawn back, ready to spring. When the moment was right, he swung his ax at the approaching claws with all his might.

A spray of warm blood hit Micahel's face and he stood stunned while his mind got busy with processing the dark sprinkles on his glasses, blotting out part of the scenery. Noises got drowned out for a couple of instants, leaving him with his ears ringing as if he were suffering the effects of a very loud noise very close to his ears.

People were running about, thrusting their hands up to point at something in the air; their arms flailing, their mouths ripped open to shout commands he didn't hear.

People fell to the ground, speared by poles and torn by talons, bleeding, writhing in pain.

What in rotten hell was he doing here? How had he gone from being the heir to the Willowcove clan to this...this...

Madness.

This insanity that involved a man at his feet with a wooden shaft protruding from an arm that was missing a hand? What sort of nightmare was this and what did it take to make him wake up from it?

Noises returned to him like bubbles of air to the surface of a pond, bursting against his eardrums to release the sounds. The commentary made the puzzle pieces fall into place, completing the picture for his sluggish wits. The totality of the situation hit Micahel like a sledgehammer, stunning him once more.

What was he even supposed to...how...what...?

-Indecisiveness and hesitation are weakness. Good God, adapt to the situation, boy, or you'll be eaten alive by the other party-

The cold, detached voice in his memories jolted through him alongside the face of the man it belonged to and kick-started his mind.

The other party, bearing down upon them from the skies. He had to adapt to survive.

Micahel dove down and grabbed the fallen man by the scruff of his neck, shouting a command of his own; keep working on the shields. He himself hadn't started on them yet, it wouldn't interrupt the process if he dropped out.

His fingers dug firmly into the fabric of the one-handed man's shirt and he dragged him backwards across the ground, even closer to the wall, underneath a tree, while he chimed in on the shouting for a healer.

Heaven's knew if one was available. So many injured.

Micahel quickly checked the man's injury. The arrow stuck in the wound prevented it from bleeding too much, even though he was evidently in a great deal of pain. Micahel hesitated for a split instant – get on with it, you selfish bastard – before he took off his expensive silk scarf that had been a gift and wrapped it around the man's biceps to tie off the blood-flow.

He could have used magic, but he was saving his resources for something else and this would do for now.

Even while Micahel knotted the scarf, he peered up at the Griffon Knights, mapping the air above the stronghold.

He licked his lips in preparation and tasted salt. The taste of another man's blood on his lips, on his tongue, in his mouth. There was a violent wrench in his gut.

Yes, that was exactly it. Get busy throwing up while a comrade is hurt and others are in danger. That will really show them that you're one of them; nice plan, Master Willowcove.

He swallowed a couple of times to get the nausea under control. When he thought it was safe to open his mouth, he started reciting an incantation.

“Move!” he shouted at the Sorcerers casting the shield spells. “When I give you a sign, move!”

He finished the last part, his hand already suspended in the air in anticipation. As he said the last word, he thrust it up and waved it.

The air above his head started twisting and shifting. He could not produce any sort of clearly defined images on such short notice and with so many people involved, but he could distort the view from above ground, and only above the ground. Hopefully, it would be enough to confuse those Griffon Knights and prevent the Sorcerers casting the shields from becoming sitting ducks.

In some corner of his mind he noted that, through it all, he had apparently managed to keep his game face on. He was still smiling. One lesson that had stuck.

He started muttering another incantation under his breath, still scanning the grounds for a medic. It was more than he had ever attempted, but just maybe he could manage to cover the entire area above the stronghold.

edited 28th Mar '13 11:15:24 PM by montmorencey

When fighting had befallen their village Elis' mother had urged him to stay hidden, to traverse the shadows and backalleys of buildings rather than stand and fight against the conflict that wasn't theirs. He was a healer, not a fighter, and if his mother could have ensured anything before her death it would've been the safety of her only child.

Goodness knows what she would have thought about their current situation. Hearing the call for help he scanned the area again before ducking around to the back of the shed, trying his best to keep low and non-discreet as he made his way over to the small group. The panicked cries of his comrades and the screeches of... whatever was attacking them now (focused as he was on the ground rather than the sky) made it hard to concentrate, but eventually he managed to stumble over to the wounded man without incident.

Elis could tell on sight that the wounds were severe, and that the man would require proper medical attention soon if he wanted to live another day. However, with the enemy keeping them grounded and the action of crossing the entire grounds to be comparable to suicide, he'd have to make do with rudimentary aid until then. The amputation was already covered, so Elis instead used a spell on the tree to slowly maneuver one of the low-lying branches to a position where he could rest the man's arm on it- keep the wound elevated, above the heart to reduce the blood flow. A lot of blood had already been lost, but every drop counted.

The arrow was serrated, and if given the choice Elis would have wanted to leave it in until he had proper medical supplies on hand. As it was, he simply mumbled an apology as, carefully as he could, he pulled the arrowhead out of the wound. Not fast enough for it to snap off, but just enough that the amount of pain would be minimised. He nearly tripped over himself a few times in trying to use a healing spell and bandage spell in quick succession, but eventually he was able to do a hasty job of sealing the wound without too much blood being lost in the process.

After what felt like minutes he finally let a breath out, satisfied that his work would keep the soldier alive a little while longer. With the immediate danger of death out of the way he actually looked around to properly take stock of the situation, asking a question that in hindsight was rather silly of him (and that he would put down to tiredness from the continuous spell usage). "What's going on?"

Ariadne's loud and commanding voice struck a cord with those Sorcerers who had still been too surprised or scared to have done anything earlier. Many unable to fend for themselves out in the open rushed towards the safety of the compounds. From atop the walls Sorcerer with bows turned inward and shot at anything with fur and feathers.

Keeper Hanara was one of those who was running towards the barracks where Ariadne was. Legs pumping with all their might, she dashed across the open yard towards safety. An experienced soldier would have run along the walls, staying close the stone barrier for protection from at least on side of attack. Hanara had no such experience and so exposed herself to several of the mounted enemy warriors.

A griffon came up from behind her, something the terrified girl was very much aware of once it's screech vibrated through her ears. Claws made a grab for her cloak but dumb luck intervened at the last second; Hanara tripped over her own feet. Instead of being eaten by a griffon, Hanara was eating dirt as she skidded across the grass, stopping about four meters from Ariadne.

Nearby, another griffon was attempting a similar move against Klaus. The monster swooped down on the woodsman Sorcerer, its rider not leveling his lance, instead ready to let his mount do all the work. He grinned savagely as he saw Klaus preparing to make a stand and urged his griffon to go faster. In this game of chicken neither opponent wavered and armored claw met magic ax in a clash of blood and iron.

The griffon bucked upwards with a shriek of agony as one of its talons was cut into. Ignoring orders from it's rider, it took flight again to escape the pain from below. This was not as effective as it might have hoped since the ax was stuck in its front claw. The weapon, and the wielder, began rising up with the griffon.

Micahel's spell did indeed cause confusion among the Griffon Knights still above the Stronghold. While it did not cover as much of the area above the Stronghold as he might have hoped, it did cause trouble for the airborne enemy. Their targets were suddenly much harder to target though a few threw down javelins and arrows at random points below. The Sorcerers on the parapets and towers had no such illusionary camouflage however, and continued to be assaulted by the winged beasts.

Tyriel's magic projectiles hit the underbelly of the griffon, the unarmored and weakest part of the animal. Individually they did not do much harm, as a group they felt like a swarm of angry hornets. The beast bucked and lurched in the air, crying out in pain. So much of its attention was caught up in violent screaming that it didn't notice when it flew headfirst into the tower Tyriel was standing atop of. The griffon and the knight plummeted to the ground.

The young woman with Tyriel stood motionless for a few moments before crawling over to the edge of the tower and peering over. Her eyes confirmed the enemy was dead on the ground.

"Woah. That was really - " A second griffon came up from below the tower, causing her to jump back with a start. From above, a third monster gave itself away with an angry screech. Both Sorcerers would have to duck down to avoid its talons. The girl did not react quickly enough. Without even time to cry out, she was knocked off the tower.

Below the mirage Micahel had cast, Sorcerers put the time he had given them to good use and continued to work frantically to recast the barrier while others among them fought off the Griffon Knights who dived under it to continue their attack.

Elis provided field aid to the man Micahel had brought off the barrier line with some help from a peach tree the Sorcerer's green mages had planted a while back to practice their spells on (which was why all the peaches were a very pale purple).

"What's going on?" Elis had asked.

"Someone got impatient. Looks like they want to settle this right now instead of waiting for us to surrender." Benjamin replied. Having seen the injured among the barrier team, he rushed over to help along with Jeremiah, nominal second-in-command of all the Sorcerers, and Maria, the noblewoman who had somehow wormed her way into Ben's inner circle.

"Ariadne!" he shouted. "Get a team to keep the barrier spellcaster safe. Tell the water mages to stay near the building in case the enemy tries to burn us out!"

"Get him to the healers' quarters." Ben told the two Sorcerers helping the one handed man. "We'll keep them off your backs."

The appearance of the Griffon Knights did nothing to improve Gareth's mood. The destruction they were wreaking was horrific. If nobody stopped them, it was possible that they would be able to scour the Stronghold clean all by themselves. Large balls of flame roared toward Gareth, and just as he prepared to jump Ariadne protected him with a magical shield. The scorching heat as they were blocked provided an uncomfortable reminder of what would have happened had he or his fellow Sorceror been too slow.

He had recently come to appreciate having someone like her with the Sorcerors - her will to stop the traitors was something that they could use more of. Much, much more of.

"Right away." His thoughts returned to the present. Foebreaker, for obvious reasons, wouldn't be an option; that left only his bow. Swiftly retrieving it from its usual position on his back, Gareth slid an arrow into position and steadily drew it back, his eyes fixed on one of the Griffon Knights that had tossed a fireball at him. He wouldn't need to use his magic to get a better look for now, at least unless the knight decided to climb higher.

The bow was pulled right back now, and satisfied that he'd get a reasonably accurate shot Gareth let it go. The arrow flew upwards, and Gareth took a brief opportunity to see how well he did before retreating slightly and moving towards one edge of the building. "I'll have to apologise; I think my arrows will be of greater use out here."

He kept this up, drawing an arrow then firing it and then changing position. If he kept moving, then hopefully the Griffon Knights would struggle to be accurate with projectiles.

"Whoa there whaaaa-lright," Klaus said, being lifted up. If he had let go of his ax, he wouldn't currently be in a situation where he could risk plummeting far down to the earth below, but....

He couldn't lose his ax. It was his.

Which meant he was now up beyond the point of no return, with just his grip on the ax's shaft keeping him from his death.

Dangling from the handle, he kicked his feet back once, going the way the ax was lodged.

When he reached the height of the swing, he kicked again, this time kicking forward, against the ax's . He kicked with all his might. He kicked with the help of fragments of wind and levitation magic he could muster.

Klaus yelled as he swung forward, pulling the ax with him as he went upside down. He reached for the griffon's rider with his legs, while bringing his ax in from the side.

Whatever Tyriel had been planning before was interrupted by the woman who had completely disregarded his warning. Is she trying to turn herself into an easier target?! "Idiot!! I told you to loo-"

The screech of a nearby griffin caused the wind magus to stop midway by the time he noticed that it attempted to pierce them with its claws. Instinctively, he ducked just in time to avoid the vicious strike.... but the same can't be said for the girl.

Granted, it was clearly her fault for letting her guards down and allowing the attackers to use that to their advantage, but Tyriel was not thinking of that. He doesn't care to remember if the griffin's talons had managed to pierce through her flesh or only pushed her away, because what he witnessed next had practically assure him that she was doomed anyway.

She was falling. From the tower. Which could only lead to two possible outcomes if any assistances aren't given soon. Best case scenario, she'll suffer from severe injuries and many broken limbs due to the impact of falling from such height. Most probable case? Death.

Unconsciously, he tried to raise his hands thinking that he can still reach out in time. But stopped halfway.

'What do you think you're doing? 'Cause if you want to act like a hero, then please stop.'

'But...'

'But what? It's her own fucking fault for exposing herself in the first place. True, she's a Sorcerer just like you. But is that really enough of a reason to highly risk yourself in the process?'

'...'

'See? Heck, I probably won't be too surprised if the Griffon Knights will use THAT exact opportunity to eliminate two birds with one stone. So instead of making the Sorcerers waste two possible members, why not preserve yourself?'

Tyriel still stood there with his arm outstretched, torn between his thoughts. Even as he thinks, the woman was no longer within view, possibly plummeting at the ground right this sec- 'Eh?'

'Oh, well would you look at that. Looks like your slight hesitation had took quite some time. Not that I'm complaining, of course.'

"?!" He had nearly about to jump out, but his realization of the fact that it was already too late stopped him. At this rate, even if he did enhance his fall with magic, he doubt that it'll be enough to reach her given the time that had already passed.

Clenching his upraised hand in complete anger at his indecisiveness that may have cost someone their life, he questioned himself once more... And recklessly made a dash towards the said edge where she had fallen, trying to see her falling figure.

If she had still not make contact with the ground, then Tyriel will aim one of his hands towards her and started casting his very first basic spell that he had learned after joining the Sorcerers which was the Levitation spell while hoping, HOPING, that he can at the very least reduce the impact upon her landing.

If she did made contact though.. well...

edited 3rd Apr '13 8:27:24 AM by JustSomeGuy732

You could only learn so much from old tomes where magic was concerned. Many of the lessons taught to the more recent Sorcerers was based on the trial and errors of the original group when they had first begun practicing their craft. Among these lessons where that living creatures were harder to levitate then inanimate objects. Another was the trying to cast a levitation spell on something in motion was a lot more difficult than doing so on one at rest.

These had been hard learned lessons following the Sorcerers first defeat in battle against a swarm of bees that had made their hive in what would be the Stronghold barracks. The humiliating route of the Sorcerers from their own base had taught them that magic shouldn't be used to solve all their problems. Also that they shouldn't try to set bee hives on fire when said hive was in a wooden building.

Tyriel undoubtedly knew this even as he cast his levitation spell. The girl probably knew it as well as she frantically started the same spell to cast on herself as well. Her whole body glowed with a green light for a moment as both spells latched onto her. The light disappeared as her body crashed into the wooden roof of one of the building below. Wooden planks cracked at the same time human bones did. The wind was knocked out of the young woman upon contact, no cry escaped her before she made contact with the solid surface below. Wordlessly, she slid off the roof and onto the ground below like a lifeless pile of limbs, her exact landing point obscured by the distortion illusion Micahel had set up.

Above, another griffon was circling around the tower, preparing another attack.

Down below, Gareth's first arrow hit a griffon in the wing, causing it to shriek and retreat. Staying close to the buildings inside the complex and changing his position regularly seemed to work as the Griffon Knights sought targets that were more vulnerable and in the open like the shield casters. Some arrows hit armor or missed entirely, others found targets and sunk themselves into griffon flesh. At least one hit a griffon on the eye. Another hit a Griffon Knight in the eye and the man plummeted to his death.

Gareth would move to his next position in time for the young woman from the tower to drop to the ground and crumple right in front of him.

Higher than Gareth but lower than Tyriel, Klaus' arial acrobatics earned him the stare of several Sorcerers on the ground and several Griffon Knights in the air. Most surprised, obviously, was the Griffon Knight who found himself with a Sorcerer on his chest. The griffon beneath them bucked and shrieked in pain and protest of the extra weight.

Some people tried to intervene but were stopped by those closest to them for fear that they might hit their own comrade. Klaus was on his own.