[center][h3]Tautom Docks[/h3] [b]Beyond the Great Chain[/b][/center] Slow and steady the Lampert Company’s ship steered towards a Tautan guard tower at the northern end of the chain. [i]‘’I am familiar with some of the guard posted up there. Surely, once they recognize me the chain will be lifted…’’[/i] The emissary tells everyone while trying to sound reassuring. Meanwhile the ship crew could see, no, smell, the smoke from the burning ships being torched in the harbor. [i]‘’Unbelievable…’’[/i] one of the men on the ship quietly mutters. [i]‘’Hail! Man on the tower! Is Orangtos there? Or anyone?’’[/i] No reply. For obvious reason it seems whoever is tasked with manning this section of the wall is occupied elsewhere, perhaps understandable for a city under siege. The screams and clashing of metal in the distance bode ill, to say the least. It was several minutes before someone finally looked down the fortified rampart. In the meantime the crew had to torment themselves with inaction, standing by, waiting as the city fell to enemy slaughter. The Baltian sailors and their Lampert allies were all equally impatient and anxious. [i]‘’Who is it!?’’[/i] A Tautan guard could be seen looking down to their ship with a bow in hand, an arrow already placed on the string and ready to fire. Unlike most of the city’s guard, this man was geared up in sturdy chainmail with a spangenhelm on his head. Ardoiwn deduced it had to be a Viigoc -- a Tautovigoc guarding the wealthier upper commons of Tautom. [i]‘’Hail friend!’’[/i] The Tautan emissary speaks. [i]‘’I am the King’s emissary, Lulupus of Sonimossos! Is Orangtos up there..?!’’[/i] The emissary asks with a hopeful glint. Following a moment of hesitation, the Viigoc guardsman finally lowers his bow. He deadpan answers. ‘’He’s dead.’’ The emissary’s face pales, before the Viigoc guard adds;[i]‘’There’s been a mutiny in the Amalian unit. Your friend was among the casualties of their treachery. They’ve failed to capture this section of the wall though.’’[/i] The emissary goes mute. He tries to reply, but all he does is stammer incoherently. Witnessing the uncertainty of the emissary Cleph steps forward, “Be there any chance you can lower the chain?” [i]‘’I fear not.’’[/i] Replies the Tautovigoc. [i]‘’The leverage has been captured by the mutineers. They’re in control of most of the dockyard.’’[/i] [i]‘’Is there no way in then?”[/i] Cleph cries up at the guard. [i]‘’.... Wait there.’’[/i] The Viigoc guardsman disappears behind the wall. After a moment of rummaging he returns with a rope in hand. [i]‘’Here. Climb up with this.’’[/i] The guard attaches the rope to a hook, and then casts it down to the ship below his sentry tower. [i]‘’Honestly, it seems like a lost cause to me. You might want to think this through. If you want to get away with your lives, now’s the chance. If you’re really serious about saving this festerin’ dunghill of a city, well, be my guest, you dapper warriors.’’[/i] [i]“There are people who need our help, who need our steel and our courage. We must help them.”[/i] Ardoiwn states, looking over his friends and allies as he takes a grip on the ropes and begins to climb. Behind him his companions and life long friends too take the rope and begin climbing up towards their fate. One by one the Lampert delegation and some of their Baltian allies were pulled unto the wall. Admirably most of them were committed to the relief and liberation of the city, regardless of the Tautovigoc’s warning. Only the emissary, the ship’s captain and a few of the core crew remained behind. [i]‘’Lord Gastald, we will row the ship further ahead so the attackers won’t spot us… That means there will be no way back once inside the city. Good luck, sir. God guide you.’’[/i] Climbing up the wall Ardoiwn looks down to the captain, [i]“Best of fortunes to you as well sir!”[/i] Turning back to his task of climbing the man mutters, [i]“God? Guide? Hump.”[/i] That same hour, most of the reinforcements managed to get up the wall with the help of the Viigoc. They number close to eighty men. It can hardly be called an army or even an expeditionary force. It is Ardoiwn’s personal Lampert war band. Getting a view at the environs, Ardoiwn spots a largely empty section of wall connecting to the guardsman's sentry tower on which they stand. It seems this Viigoc is the only one of the Tautan garrison that mans the sea wall. The wall section connects to another tower, which is the only way down into the harbour. The door of this tower has been barred shut by a tall stack of crates containing arrows, rations, supplies and whatever else the man could find. Presumably the Tautoviigoc moved them there as barricade against the Amalian mutineers. It shows, considering they’ve not taken the sea wall yet. [i]‘’Good. Your ship’s reinforcements is inside now…’’[/i] The Tautovigoc guard begins to address the foreign company surrounding him, his voice more hushed than before. [i]‘’Honestly I was about to look for a means of escape myself, but with you lot being here, we may actually be able to drive them back!’’[/i] The man chuckles, though it was of a nervous sort to cope with the very dire straits they’re in. [i]‘’I don’t think they could’ve spotted us. Your presence should catch these mutineers completely by surprise. That said, time is really of the essence. By the looks of it the Chlotars are already inside the central commons and are advancing on the Palace. If I had to guess, they want to get to the King. Your best bet is heading straight there. And doing that…’’[/i] [i]‘’Let me guess, we’ll have to make a path through the mutineers.’’[/i] Cleph finishes the Viigoc’s line. [i]‘’...Yes.’’[/i] [i]“Very well then.”[/i] Ardoiwn states as he makes his way towards the barricaded door. [i]“Disloyalty and treachery are foul beasts, things to be put down. We shall draw up and closely as we can before springing on the enemy and taking as many as possible. At that point we cut down any who get between us and the palace.”[/i] Pulling a crate away from the door Ardoiwn also adds, [i]“Don’t forget, we’re here to save the city. If anyone should come across those in aid do what you can.”[/i] Shifting a final large crate out of the way Ardoiwn opens the door and allows Cleph the van, following not far behind and then followed by the rest of his band. The Lampert warband descends down a narrow set of stone stairs in the tower’s interior. At the bottom is a small barracks. A close iron door leading outside, a table at the center with empty chairs, and in an opening behind the stairs a bed where a Tautan guardsman is resting motionlessly. Were Ardoiwn to look closer, it becomes apparent that the poor man is dead. His throat had been slit in his sleep. Apparently some of the mutineers had already passed through here. [i]‘’Typical Celesean cowardice.’’[/i] One of the Lampert warriors mutters to himself. The war band of eighty men all gathered in the cramped confines of the tower, ready to barge out when the Gastald gives the signal to attack. After Cleph did a headcount, ensuring everyone was assembled, he nods to Ardoiwn. The Gastald raises his spear. ‘’My friends, ahead of us is glory! Let us take it!” The company of warriors roar and cheer in choir, and grasping their swords, axes and maces, rush out through the door, aching to strike down any man foolhardy enough to come upon their path. Meanwhile the Amalian soldiers were busy; flames had begun to light up every inch of the docks as shadows moved from jetty to jetty, ensuring that no boat could be used to escape the city as the timber constructions were torched. The soldiers, only about twenty in all, had all gathered to watch the flames, some had even removed their helmets. There was no joyous cries from them as the orange glow bathed their somber and hard set expressions, glinting off of their armor and shields, some well aware their only escape was now crumbling into ash and falling into the water before them. The stern expressions were suddenly broken by alarm, most of the soldiers spotting movement as a tower door was opened a few hundred feet away, watching as soldiers began to stream through into the open. [i]“Fuckin’ hellfire! Those bastards are rallying!” [/i] [i]“We cleared that tower, who the fuck are they?!”[/i] [i]“They’re gonna hit our rear!”[/i] Suddenly a sharp voice cut through the confused tones, an officer with a red crested helmet started grabbing the nearest soldiers and shoving them towards the new threat as he roared at the top of his lungs. [i]“THEY’RE YOUR NEXT MISSION SOLDIERS! MOVE, MOVE, I WANT THOSE SHIELDS UP IN FRONT OF THOSE BASTARDS NOW BEFORE THEY GET THROUGH TO THE GATES!”[/i] The small squad began grabbing their helmets, hurriedly trying to pull them on as their faces grew white. The officer, a grizzled and broad man with several medallions on his chest declaring his experience, snarled and slapped the nearest soldier around the head. [i]“Leave the helmet Triscus! I SAID LEAVE IT! GO!”[/i] With the initial shock over, the soldiers left helmets and their equipment behind, sprinting with their shields to get between the advancing Lamparts and the rear of Quintus’ detachment. As they watched, more and more soldiers began to spill from the tower, it wasn’t long before a sickening realization dawned on them, that they were outnumbered. [i]“Triscus, RUN! WARN THE GENERAL!”[/i] Triscus stared, dumbfounded at what was happening in front of him, the words falling on deaf ears as the soldiers assembled in front of the Lamparts, shields locked as tireless drilling took over their thoughts and actions, but even the soldiers extensive training and experience never prepared them for a fight with such poor odds. [i]“Triscus I swear with Godas as my witness I will SODOMIZE YOU WITH MY FUCKING FIST! PAY ATTENTION!”[/i] [i]“Sir?!”[/i] Triscus snapped back to reality, looking to the officer as he tightened the grip on his own blade, having fallen in at the rear of the formation. The officer reached out, grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back, growling in his face, the thick smell of olives washed over him and Triscus couldn’t help but wince. [i]“Get to the general. Warn him we have one hundred swords advancing on their rear, we’ll fight a beating retreat but we’ll need support!”[/i] [i]“I… I…”[/i] [i]“It’s not optional. MOVE IT!”[/i] The officer simply shoved him back, and then stepped into his place. The men all stood with shields forward, ready to face the charging horde as the officer began to shout encouragement to the men, some of whom were already looking over their shoulders to the safety of the gatehouse, but the majority knew it was far too late to try and outrun the enemy. Triscus blinked, taking one last look at the twenty or so men he had spent years fighting with, eating with, living with. Then he turned. And ran. The Lamperts wasted no time seeing how unprepared they caught the crew of mutineers. They must not squander this opportunity. [i]“Cut them down!”[/i] cried Cleph, pointing his mace at the Amalian crew being hastily assembled in a pitiful attempt at obstruction. [i]“Break through these mutts. No quarter!”[/i] The war band rushes forward letting out terrifying battle roars as they engage the mutineers. The Lamperts were upon them with such speed that there was barely chance for the Amalians to form a cohesive formation. The battle had begun. The Amalians use their spears to attempt and hold the incoming crowd at bay, but they were utterly swamped after failing to set up a solid line of defense. Mercilessly the Lamperts bludgeon their way through the men. [i]“Stand fast! Stand fast!”[/i] the officer exclaims in an effort to stem the flood. But when the strait gets too dire he himself joins the crucible and hews his blade into the nearest barbarian, which slides off his helmet and hits then into his shoulder. The struck Lampert warrior recoils sideways. The officer takes the opportunity to bash the staggering enemy with his kite shield, who loses balance indefinitely and stumbles into the Lamperts adjacent him. For a moment there is an opening for the Amalians who waste no time to jab their spears into the disoriented opponents. The Lamperts on the left flank have been repulsed! Then Cleph appears besides the officer, and his mace batters his unguarded side before he even thought of raising his shield in defense. And before he could question how the Lampert got past his unit, the officer observed how the right flank had collapsed. He and ten of his remaining men are now completely surrounded. [i]“Reform into circle formation! Shields out you wretches! Do not let up! AAAARGHHHH!”[/i] The officer screams wildly ignoring the bleeding wound made on him. [i]“DO NOT LET UP! GODAS OBSERVES THIS DECISIVE MOMENT!”[/i] For what felt like an age the Amalian circle held its own. Some dared to hope they would make through to see a new dawn. But they soon found this hope sadly misplaced. After several minutes of stubborn hand to hand combat, the officers head was finally struck by Clephs mace. Hard enough that the officer’s helmet went flying, ricocheting over the cobblestone tiles. The remaining soldiers lost heart. And soon they were no more. With the bloody deed done, Ardoiwn raises his crimson stained spear. [i]“Onwards! We cannot stand still, take the gate!”[/i] Lowering his weapon and giving a sigh of relief at this initial success. Cleph runs up to him, his mace crimson but himself seemingly unharmed. Nonetheless the look on his face was dire, [i]“Who?”[/i] Ardoiwn asked. [i]“Daufer, three spears to the chest. What will we tell his sister?”[/i] Looking over the water, before turning his head up towards the city Ardoiwn replied, [i]“Nothing, not yet. We need her focused on the battle ahead of us. Don’t let her know until after the day is done.”[/i] As Cleph ran off to coordinate the men, the Viigoc guard from before walks up to Ardoiwn. [i]“Lord Gastald, bypass the columns and warehouse to the right and follow the street through the white arch. There you will doubtlessly meet the bulk of the defenders.”[/i] With a nod Ardoiwn placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, “Thank you. Without your aid this city and its people would be far worse off. Try to find somewhere safe, with your family if you have any. Otherwise, feel free to fight with us in glory, you have earned that right.” The Viigoc gives a nervous smile, then looks over the harbor. All the great ships have already been torched or rendered unseaworthy. Only a few smaller vessels remain that the mutineers seemingly overlooked, or had not the chance to destroy. None of the mutineers are in sight. They must be trying to link up with the Chlotar Army in the central plaza. The coast is clear. [i] ‘’..I don’t think escape is an option at this point. There’s no way to bypass that chain. ...I might as well try to make it inside the Royal District with you.’’[/i] With no time to waste and having already emerged victorious from the initial skirmish, the emboldened Lampert company march through the harbor streets. The air about the place smells of fire, charred wood, salted fish and now the smell of deathly decay. From expired fish more so than slain Tautans. But the screams heard in the distance are a grim reminder that time is truly of the essence. And so the foreign warriors head straight for the northern district past the corridor. But as they come closer, they are met with a dreadful surprise. The mutinying forces are not at the plaza at all, but were right there at the far end of the street, as if waiting for them in the arches leading to the Royal Quarter. They could just make out one of the mutineers running up to the group. [i]“Sir! Sir!”[/i] Quintus turned to look as he heard a hurried voice pant out behind him. The officers surrounding him all scowled as they looked on Triscus, doubled over and red faced, struggling to catch his breath [i]“Sir the Tautans! They’re in the docks sir! They’re killing us!”[/i] [i]“What?! WHERE?! How many!?” [/i] [i]“Behind me! No more than uh… One hundred? Maybe two?”[/i] Quintus gritted his teeth and grabbed the young soldier by the neck plate, pulling him close as he growled. [i]“Think man! THINK! How many?!”[/i] [i]“Uhm… One hundred sir!”[/i] Quintus released him and immediately started barking orders to the officers. [i]“Vitellius, I want the first, second and third Centuries on me now. The rest are to remain here and guard the entrance to the docks. I will send runners with information.”[/i] Vitellius nodded to Quintus, pulling his helmet over his head, he and two other officers began jogging to sections of soldiers, all waiting eagerly, already their shouts were being drowned out by the sounds of screams and shouting from behind then, the sounds of battle. Quintus ground his teeth at the thought of an enemy force sneaking behind them. How? As far as he knew the docks were practically sealed on all fronts. He reached down, pulling his sword free and spat on the floor. He could find out later if there were any survivors. Behind him, there was a cry. [i]“Soldiers. About face! You will advance on my command!”[/i]. Quintus drowned the words out in his mind and began walking through the ranks of soldiers, the first Century and it’s officer, Vitellius were now facing where the supposed threat of the enemy was coming from. Already the sound of fighting were growing quieter. It wouldn’t be long now before the grey cobbles would be thick with blood. [i]“SOLDIERS. ADVANCE!”[/i] Ardoiwn had transitioned towards the van of the moving warriors, and thus was among the first to notice the enemy line. Looking over the enemy they were both more numerous, and far better prepared than the last group. [i]“We can’t just charge through that.”[/i] A warrior next to Ardoiwn said, almost to himself. The Gastald had to agree. [i]“HOLD!”[/i] Ardoiwn shouted to his warriors as he pushed ahead. The Lampert band halts, forming a thick mass of muscles and weapons behind the Gastald as he took a few steps ahead. Perhaps if Ardoiwn could single out and defeat their leader the main body of soldiers would rout, or surrender. Three strides past his men, Ardoiwn stared over the enemy line before slamming the metal capped butt of his spear into the stone tiled road and shouting out, [i]“Hail! A Gastald of the insurmountable kingdom of the Lamperts stands before you! I will have words with your leader, should he not be a coward!”[/i] Several laughs and cries from Ardoiwn’s band punctuate the point as the Lampert leader stood awaiting response. The marching tramp of studded boots didn’t falter at first, shields hiding the bodies of the men behind them, helmets catching the daylight as swords poked through the strong shields like some kind of spined animal. As the word “Coward” was called out, there was a sudden cry from the ranks approaching the Lamperts. “Centuries, HALT!”. [i]“Are you certain?”[/i] Quintus glared at Vitellius, his brow creased in a mix of anger and yet excitement was clear in his eyes. [i]“Aye sir. He said Lampert. I’d wager a month’s pay on it.”[/i] [i]“If you’re right i’ll GIVE you a month’s pay…”[/i] Quintus responded, his face lifted towards the lines of the enemy, several ranks of men stood between him and Ardoiwn. A Lampert. The men who had slaughtered, raped and nearly annihilated his home. The men knew it too, many of them were already whispering in the ranks, casting sidelong looks at each other. Quintus brushed it off, his mind racing. After all this time, here presented a chance for retribution. A prelude to the long war to retake Amalia, that he and his men had always hoped for. Here was a prize worth solidifying their alliance with the Chlotar forces tearing through Tautom behind them. Then he felt it in his heart, a burning hatred and passion to end this creature’s life. With one outstretched, open and waiting hand, he discarded the rational thoughts in his mind, and gave in to his anger. [i]“Spear.”[/i] The ranks of the Amalians stood still, Quintus had made sure he’d picked only the best, and it showed. But even now as word spread through the ranks that before them stood Lamperts, even some of the older veterans began to shift, twisting their weapons, hatred clear in their eyes. The mood of the Lamperts meanwhile was the reverse, almost jovial as several of them threw jeers and taunts. Cleph tried to keep the host controlled as Ardoiwn awaited response, but one man can hardly hold back eighty. Suddenly, there was movement. Small, thin, invisible perhaps to those without the eyes for such. Indeed, Ardoiwn would have missed it had he not been staring at the enemy line intently, waiting for a sign of a departing commander. A javelin flew through the air, whistling death aimed at the Gastald. A half dozen hurried steps back into his war band and the spear lodged itself in the dirt where the man once stood. Sighing in relief Ardoiwn stepped forwards again, examining the weapon. It was nothing remarkable, a simple javelin which had desired his life. A lone weapon, thrown from an unseen enemy. The thought brought a fury to the breast of the warrior, someone had sought to kill him in so indignant a fashion! The men around the Gastald held similar thoughts, and the jeering and merry threats turned sour and fierce. [i]“Not just a cowardly leader, but an entire band then.”[/i] A sigh escaped the Gastald’s lungs. He had hoped for a parley, a few words, maybe an honorable duel that would allow the defeated to leave with a semblance of honor intact. [i]“Very well. If they wish to see blood spilled.”[/i] Ardoiwn’s voice rose as his introspection turned to rallying cry, [i]“If they wish to meet cold iron and blazing hearts, if they wish to know the fury of the Lampert, than who am I to stop them!? Such weak men will only be kindling to the likes of us, their numbers merely further glories for us to claim! To me warriors! Death to God!”[/i] His warriors cried alongside their leader, and charged the enemy line with fervor.