[center][h2]Curtain Wall of Tautom[/h2][/center]

[i]“Open the gates.”[/i]
[i]“Do we have to?”[/i]
[i]“If you don’t he’ll start screaming and make us parade march again.”[/i]
With a sigh of frustration, the guardsman’s friend walked off in the direction of the gatehouse. Taking a moment to stare back into the city of Tautom a flurry of things flew through his mind; he longed to be off duty. Just a few more hours, and then he could return to the roaring nightlife of Tautom. Oils, incense and perfumes; play-fighting with the local rapist and every other worldly delight he could imagine. Wistfully he let the thoughts fade and returned his gaze to the band of warriors trudging up to the gates, Quintus at their head. He didn’t like Quintus. As far as he was concerned Quintus did nothing but stand in the way of his fun, apart from finally relenting on making them wear armour. It felt good to be free of those metallic constraints. Still, it could be worse. He’d sent a bunch of men into the docks for some naval exercises or something. He didn’t really care, he’d gotten enough of those pointless busybody jobs from his downer of a commander to last a lifetime. Let somebody else suffer it he says, life should be for pleasure!  

The weight of the great gate shifting could almost be felt atop the wall, slowly creaking open at the hands of several men, and a rudimentary pulley system. The guardsman kept an eye out on the treeline that more or less now marked the only border Tautom had left. Land beyond those trees teemed with the Chlotar hordes, the kind of boorish people he would never want to tangle with. All the more reason for Quintus and his patrol to hurry back in, and hurry in they did. The guardsman crossed the wall to glance down at the men now inside, yelling to his comrades in the gatehouse.
[i]“They’re in! Close it!”[/i]
Quintus, hearing his voice, tilted his head all the way up to the top of the wall, having to shout for his words to be made out. 
[i]“The Laelae flows free again! And we found a trophy in the process!”[/i]
The guardsman wanted to disdainfully reply with sarcasm, but held his tongue. 
[i]“Sounds like good news, sir!”[/i]
Quintus nodded, pausing to say a few words he couldn’t hear to the patrol that was spreading out around him, presumably making them resume their watch on the walls as they made their ways to the towers which encased the stairs up and down. It will take a lot of foot rubs before they’ll walk happily again, thought the guardsman. Quintus drew his attention again.
[i]“I am off to oversee the docks. Make sure that banner hangs nice and high so the Chlotar dogs know what’s been done to them!”[/i]
Chlotar? Hadn’t it been bandits? Chlotars resorting to banditry, most likely. No surprise. They probably didn’t even know how to grow or hunt their own food, it’s a wonder they even have any kind of a civilization. 

The patrol piece by piece got back onto the walls, filling in the more vacant spots of the skeleton garrison Tautom could scrounge up these days. He got a close look at a few of them as they walked by, patting some sympathetically on the shoulder as he noticed their dejected demeanor; being near Quintus made him depressed too. The banner they brought with them did shock him a great deal however as it was in the red and black of the despised Baltavigoc Guard. If Quintus had managed to grab one of those, Cauroman won’t be happy at all. The image of Cauroman enraged, slapping away uselessly at Tautom’s impenetrable walls, made the man practically giddy. The banner was hoisted directly over the gates, hung like a corpse made an example out of. The guardsman might just actually spend the rest of his watch happy for once. That only lasted for a few minutes, until a dagger cut so deeply and ruthlessly into his throat it severed his vocal cords. 

The Tautan watchman fell like a sack of potatoes, head smashing with a crack onto the flagstones as his hands grabbed for his throat in a hopeless attempt to staunch the bleeding. Vetericus glanced to his left, checking the progress of his fellows. All along Tautom’s southern curtain wall the garrison was cut to ribbons quickly and efficiently by the five hundred Baltavigocs now spread out amongst them, with the majority of them focused on the three southern gatehouses. Sure that the plan was unfolding smoothly, Vetericus quickly took off to the right, through the third gatehouse and the collapsing bodies of the Tautan guard, Baltavigocs already working to drag the gates back open. Knowing now that the hardest fighting would begin along the wall to the Tautovigoc Gate, Vetericus rushed to stand alongside his kin. 

Concealed in the trees, the combined Baltavigoc and Chlotar army had split into three groups. First Captain Crocus was to take the left gate, his command composed entirely of Baltavigocs. The hosts of Chlotaringen were split between the two remaining gates, Palace Mayor Vierland taking the centre and his second set for the right-most gate. The sight of the red and black banner hanging from the wall was their cue to get ready, Crocus watching the gates like a hawk. Minutes dragged by, a mixture of excitement and subdued nervousness contending with each other. At last, the first of three gates started to open. Vierland could be seen tearing out of the treeline alone for a few seconds before the stomping charge of his soldiers followed in his heels, Chlotaringen colours sailing by in their wake. Crocus glanced around at those nearest before standing, turning to face the thousands behind him.
[i]“The wait is over! We are taking the head! Let not a single Baltavigoc be beaten into that city by any man alive!”[/i]
Crocus, not being the youngest man, was by no means the fastest, but Tautom city being so close to falling without its defenders even realising lent him speed. Out of respect his pace was not exceeded, which indeed turned out to be a wise decision as the gate ahead, at that moment seeming a hundred leagues away, had not yet begun to open. 

The fighting in the gatehouses was confused and sometimes pathetic. Some within the Tautan garrison at first thought it was spontaneous mock fighting. Baltavigoc determination showed them the error of their assumption, and Vetericus charging into the third gatehouse helped put a swift end to their resistance. A Baltavigoc glanced through an arrow slit, picking out the red and black warpaint of the host approaching their gate with ease. Knowing time was of the essence, he moved to rush the gate’s mechanism open, joined by several others quickly. Ahead of their gatehouse shouts, ringing of steel and splintering of wood made it clear the first resistance had finally been encountered, Vetericus bounding out after it with a slightly shorter axe he’d managed to find as a substitute for the one left temporarily with Crocus. 

At last the two gates started to open, and with enough haste so as to prevent any need for waiting. The narrow bridges, the only crossing points in Tautom’s great moat, would have proved a terrible bottleneck had their combined army tried to cross at once. With it split into three groups, Baltavigocs and Chlotarians alike streamed into the streets of Tautom, the bewildered citizenry near the gates quickly retreating deeper into their quarters and locking themselves inside their houses. Spreading out so as to ensure their foothold, like water rushing through a riverbed the Baltavigocs led the way through the Amalian quarter. Moving the line forward, sometimes with assistance from the Chlotar-sympathetic Amalian population, the Chlotaringen contingent cut down any foolish enough to resist in the rear. Baltavigocs in the towers leading up to the walls opened the way for reinforcements coming through the gates. In mere moments the grand curtain wall of Tautom, impossible to assail frontally, had been utterly compromised. Now all that stood in the way of the palace district was a single tower of the Tautovigoc gatehouse, certain to not hold long against the assault. 

[center][hider=Siege Status][img]https://i.imgur.com/pZ9sN1o.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]