The skies over the city of Olysium had darkened. 
The rumbling of Thunder and roaring of machines filled the air. 
When the barrage of explosions stopped in order for the guns to reload, the cries of dragon and men alike filled up the silence.
Forces of Nature and Warcraft clashed and collided accompanied by the bright flashes of fire and lightning painting the Skies. 
The Hearthguard had dug in deep, holding the line trying to stop the enemy from even stepping onto Belisio’s soil. 
Vaim’s invasion force had come up from the Deep Sky, ready to carve out a new victory. 
Ready to conquer the stronghold of the old enemy.
Sack the Blue Opal, their fabled capital and break the back of the resistance.
Once they had been so close to conquering the world of Ith. Their Sorcerer King would have reigned supreme, if it hadn’t been for the coalition of nations. 
Belisio then had been the sword to hold off their hammer from coming down on the rest of the other nations.
Nations such as the Isles of Sacheron or the smaller kingdoms of Leonix and Arfalle.
They would crumble and fall without the support of mighty Belisio. 
Therefore Vaim would not make the same mistake in underestimating this old rival besides who would you turn to when your biggest player gets swept off the board. When your strongest ally gets Humiliated and Subjugated…
This was what the generals were told and as a good soldiers they would follow the command of their betters and do the will of the Empire.
They would succeed where their forebears did not. 
They would break the resistance's back and crush the enemy. 
For the glory of the Empire, for the Future of Vaim.
The Sky rumbled again as lightning cracked and cut through it, as mages aimed it at the approaching frigates. The Steel beasts opened their hatches and unleashed their holds. 
The hordes of soldiers, flying on contraptions of cloth, wood and steel, flew out to engage the enemy. Fighters to swarm and tackle the dragon riders, keeping them occupied whilst the large gun turrets on the frigates slowly rotated lining up to prepare a volley.
Smaller Belisian vessels bravely charged in, knowing that only constant movement would give them a chance against the colosal behemoths of the Empire.
The Knights rode out on their dragons taking a frontal charge towards the enemy’s line, knowing they needed to get a way in only to scatter and be forced to break up their formation by the approaching fighters. 
Brave soldiers picked up the weapons and jobs of their fallen comrades, watching Hell be unleashed upon them. Mage, Knight and Soldier were not spared, they were blown to bits and blasted to shreds, their limbs and lives torn from their frail bodies. Standing and Falling over and over.
The Hearthguard itself had set up their defense at the edge of the city, taking a huge gamble, but figured they needed to make the most of the little time they had to prepare. They send out everything they had when it came to heavy weaponry. Large Cannon and Catapult, Ballista and Trebuchet had been brought out and fired to the point where they had shaped the very earth around them.
Blood, Sweat, Piss and Tears mixed with Earth, Metal and Flesh as spells and ammo filled the skies and lifeless bodies littered the soil.

“HOLD THE LINE!” Angry shouts cried out as leaders tried to rally their troops. 
“Send them to HELL boys!” One of the Knight cried before he was obliterated by a salvo of one of the large frigates.
The Knight Commander attempted to maintain order in this extreme chaos as he picked up rookie and traumatized veteran alike forcing them back to their posts or sending them out to hold a position.
His current concern was the railgun that now remained silent because the crew operating it had been literally mowed down by gunfire.
“Keep Firing! You hear me! FIRE that damn thing!!” He shouted ordering a crying rookie into the position at the railgun. The Knight Commander shoved him towards the lever.
“Don’t you dare cry you piss-ant!” Grab ahold of your f*cking balls!” The man intimidatingly ordered.
When the boy didn’t quit crying quickly enough the Knight Commander backhanded him. This snapped the boy out of it and made him look up in terror at the Knight Commander.
“What are you waiting for an invitation! Fire that thing and make them pay!”
The poor boy that barely had the fuzz of his first beard, held a hand to cheek where he had been hit only to nod to the Knight Commander before he moved into action again. He had to step over the corpse of his fellow soldier, a man twice his age to be able to operate the thing.
“FIRE! Keep Firing that thing until it melts!” the Knight Commander yelled again as the boy turned knobs and activated the loading of the gun, attempting to start it up again.
Thus the barrage continued, Dragon riders danced a deadly dance with the Vaimese Fighters up in the air as lance and gun went up against one another.

Meanwhile on the bridge of the largest of the Vaimese vessels; The Imperator, an elderly man took stock of the situation. 
He was tall, dressed in dark armour, safe for his helmet which was held by his aide. 
He was a man carved and formed by the battlefield. Lines and wrinkles were etched into his face as well as a large and deep scar that ran from the top of his forehead over his eyebrow and cheek downwards.
His eye had been replaced by a simple cold milky white stone to fill up the hole and had been sown into place.
Dark grey hairs were sleeked backwards as his one eye was focused on the viewing screens in front of him. They were displaying different sights of the battlefield.
“Where are you, you old bastard?” Was the softest question whispered over his lips, clearly he was looking for someone before another armoured soldier approached him drawing his attention away from the screens for a moment.
“General, the Guns are ready, do you wish we fire them upon the city?”
“Not yet. We shall wait with that until ‘he’ shows up. I want to see the horror in his eyes when I carve out his heart and force him to choke on it.” The man spoke in a deadly and calm manner.
“As you wish Sir.” The soldier replied instantly.
“For now keep concentrating on the Centre of the Hearth Guard’s Defense, if we manage to rip their lines apart their once mighty and famous resolve might falter and we can swoop in for the killing blow. Also tell the Arsenni Brigade to take out that railgun it could become a nuissance later.”
The soldier nodded and bowed in reference before passing the orders along to the rest on the bridge.
The cold calculating eye focused again on the screens as another aide handed him a goblet of wine.  
He swirled the goblet’s contents before taking a first taste, he could hardly suppress a sadistic smile, they had brought him Belisian wine, known for its deep red colour and its flavourfull rich earthy undertones. 
“One could easily imagine that one is drinking the blood of one’s enemies, like those tales of old.” He commented before he eyed the screen again. “Though there is only one enemy who’s blood I would bottle up and drink for sake of vengeance.” He spoke darkly swirling the dark red liquid again.
As he lifted the goblet to take another sip his eye was suddenly glued to the screen and his arm stopped moving halfway up. 
“There you are…” his voice held eagerness and surprise, as he moved in closer to the screen to see his old enemy properly again.
“Venray!”