[h1][u]Act One: The Defense of Relouse[/u]____  __  _   _[/h1]
[h2][u]Chapter Three: Hellfire[/u]_________  __  __   _   _[/h2]
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[hr][hr][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFoOZ4z-_ZA] 𝅘𝅥 [/url]  [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTPDmZx3gKk] 𝅘𝅥 [/url][/center][hr][hr]
[color=D3D3D3]The sun set, leaving curtains of moody orange, fuchsia, and purple behind. As these graduated to midnight blue, the Eskandr offensive died a horrible death upon the beaches of Relouse.

One is told to fear old men in a profession where men die young, yet these ones died without posing much threat at all. They fought honourably. They fought ferociously, in many cases. They earned their places in Gronhall. Yet, they fell to the Perrench defenders and, were this the quality of the entire offensive, there was little doubt that the Quentics would hold out.

As the Eskandr on the beaches petered out, the defenders grew in confidence, shouting paeans to the gods, taunting their failing enemies, and striking directly against the seemingly endless fleet that approached, bottlenecked for some time by the wreckage at the cape. Yet, those strong enough in the Gift or perhaps simply clever enough, soon realized that something was wrong. It was around that time that panicked reports began flashing in from the Witch Wood of a large force making land there, scaling the cliffs or using the Gift to bypass them entirely. For some, visions of Vitroux danced in their minds' eyes. Others maintained that it was a diversion and that the main attack was on the beach. Yet, while there were longships, there were no more invaders. They simply stopped coming. The ships themselves, instead of sliding up against the intertidal cobble, dissipated once they reached land.

That was when the [i]real [/i]panic began to set in. Columns abandoned the beach in droves, rushing north to where the small contingent of yasoi and Drudgunzeans were badly outnumbered. Some, however, opted to stay the course. Contradictory orders were shouted. Perrench soldiers, knights, and lords argued. Units became tangled up in each other. For all of its mighty size, the Grande Armee was a nightmare to actually command.

Yet, it was not long before riders arrived from the cape, including Baron Arslan himself, demanding an audience with the king. They swore that the Eskandr force was far more spread than what could be seen from the city, and that it had split. They urged people not to abandon the beach, for worse was coming: [i]far[/i] worse. 

Then, it happened: first, a massive lightning strike that battered the town's walls. Then another, a third, and a fourth. Sheets of it ripped across the sky. Tendrils splintered and spidered along the aged stone, blackening it. Onagers, catapults, and ballistas splintered. Thatched and wooden roofs burned.

But there was the rain, and the fires did not last against it. What had started as a persistent drizzle had been given time tor grow, to be nourished by a hundred other users of the Gift. It was now a mighty tempest, providing not only nourishment for the heaven-splitting thunder attacks but also drenching the the battlefield, lashing attackers and defenders alike with powerful winds, battering the fast-approaching longships.

Suddenly, they were real again. The first few defenders were caught unawares. Most of the beach's traps and preparations were gone. The first wave had lived and died solely for the purpose of exhausting them. When the ships did not dissipate and real flesh and blood Eskandr leapt from them, it was a cold shock to those who thought that they were merely here to guard and mop up. Less so for the prepared.

The city's defenders rained hellfire from the walls, then. Those on the beach organized and kept their shape, but this, now, was the [i]true [/i]strength of the Great Heathen Army that they faced. Walls of flame rolled out from the approaching longships, decimating much of the small, tangled mangrove forest that had grown there over the past few hours. Chains and blades scythed across obstacles, defanging them. The water itself went nearly still where the ships sailed and massive agglomerations of energy made themselves felt. Then, the wind whipped back, reversing rouce into the defenders' faces. The air grew cold and the ground frosty and hail replaced rain. This came screaming at the Parrench now, blinding and pelting them. The Eskandr were nothing if not masters at using their environment to their advantage.

Still, the lightning came, the frequency of the strikes dizzying, and the city suffered. From the walls, arcane mages returned fire, smashing Eskandr ships before they could land, lancing through chests, limbs, and heads with beams of light, sending great roiling fireballs out into the night. The Tourarre horsemen raced back and forth, dodging enemy fire as they went and fighting when forced to as they relayed messages. It was heavy going and the Parrench found themselves pushed back to the harbour, the seawall, and the Porte-Bonheur.

Then, the King appeared, in full regalia, standing atop the parapets. A great bolt of lightning snaked across the sky to strike him, but disappeared before it could reach its target. Arrows disappeared. Eskandr as far away as the Witch Wood and the final few ships rounding Cape Redame collapsed, clutching their heads, chests, and throats. From his sheath, Arcel pulled Sanguinaire, the legendary sword of Echeran. [color=00aeef][b]"Hommes et femmes de Parrence,"[/b][/color] He roared and, somehow, everybody on the battlefield, no matter where they were, could hear him, [color=00aeef][b]"tenez ferme contre l'ennemi! Les dieux sont avec nous!"[/b][/color]*[sup]1[/sup] With a grunt, he deflected another lightning bolt, this one aimed at the Harbour Gate. [color=00aeef][b]"Allez à la plage,"[/b][/color] he urged. [color=00aeef][b]"Défendez la ville!"[/b][/color]*[sup]2[/sup] 

As he spoke, the soldiers of Parrence found themselves almost preternaturally buoyed. Fresh vigour flowed through their arteries. Doubt and fear dried up in their minds. Those near the beach found themselves further lifted as Queen Eleanor joined them, clad in shining plate armour. She waded into the thick of the onrushing barbarians, and their attacks, both mundane and magical, seemed to have little to no effect. Yet, the Southmen, how they flocked to her, each seeking the glory of having brought down the enemy's queen in open combat, each eager to sit near the head of the table in Gronhalle. By the dozen, she deflected them, pummeled them with great bursts of force, and flung them back into their allies or the frothing waters. The Parrench rallied around her banner, pushing back against the onslaught and defending the gate. They gained ground.

That's when the shouts started: [color=7bcdc8][b]"Le roi!"[/b][/color] screamed one. [color=7bcdc8][b]"Le roi tombe!"[/b][/color]*[sup]3[/sup] Some turned quickly and witnessed the sickening sight of the young King Arcel tumbling from the top of the walls, an enormous lance through his midsection. Limp and bloody, he fell into the river and sunk out of sight. A cry went up from some. Others, unengaged, rushed for the spot and dove in. There were those who reached out for the energy that might've denoted his presence, but it was extremely difficult in the heat and press of battle.

From a stillness in the storm emerged a great dark ship, twice the size of the others, with black and gold sails adorned with a horned kraken. A young woman with silver hair leapt off, streaking through the air on blazing tail of fire and landing in a crouuch. An old man in simple robes was next, clutching a gnarled staff. The very trees seeming to bend and lean towards him. There came a berserker next: lean, shirtless, and corded with wiry muscle, rushing past the others, two axes in hand and another four whirling through the air about him. Finally, there was Hrothgar. 

The Eskandr king of kings stalked forward, great shadowy bats and vultures circling him, enfolded in spreading tendrils of darkness. His eyes glowed demonic red and the air itself seemed to recoil from his presence, cold and gusty. The darkness spread to engulf Parrench knights as they screamed and writhed, and when it touched his own soldiers, they swelled and howled, turning into snarling, slavering beasts.

Directly in his path stood Genevieve Chalamet, Baroness of Chambroix, and she was not cowed in the slightest. Lightning to rival that of the the as-yet unseen Eskandr master leapt from her palms and the sky alike. This struck the figure of Hrothgar and, for a moment, he stilled. It arced and sparked from his body and smoke rose from him. Then, he continued his march, drawing a great poleaxe and an even greater amount of energy from the sea behind him. The first he wirled efoore him, ever faster. The second, he slammed into her with such force that she hammered against the city walls and went limp. For a moment, the young baroness stuck fast, crumpled armour and ruined stone holding her up. Then, the battered figure slid down, leaving a trail of smudged blood, and dropped into the river.

Hrothgar cast his gaze about the weakling Greenlanders and there were those who stood in defiance. Yet, many shrank from him, their soft Gods unwilling to reward the glory of a death in battle. He seized upon the Queen's position and began drawing.

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In the woods to the north, however, the concerns of the beach and the city walls were too distant to be relevant. The Eskandr were landing in ever greater numbers, probing deep into the forest. Their veteran rangers, under Vali the Twice-Born, called on all of their skills and power to survive the garden of horrors that had grown here and the relentless guerilla strikes of the yasoi in the trees. The very forest itself stood against their march, harbouring poisons, grasping thorns, and relentless illusions to confuse and terrify them. The storm above their heads struck at them with lightning, much of it redirected lovingly by the yasoi thunder practitioners hidden in the branches. The rangers did not lose their cool, however, and struck back where they could, even mustering illusions of their own to inflate their apparent numbers.

Yet, the real armies were coming. The majority of the cliff force, at least a couple thousand strong, arrived under Kol, the Death's Hand, and these followed his blood brother into the forest, a smallish, handsome man with gold hair and a cruel smile racing ahead with blinding speed, daggers in hand. The Strumish king's presentiment that they were marching into the web of some great spider proved correct, however. Among the yasoi lurked the someday-baroness of Loriindton, Talit'yrash'osmax. As she moved towards her enemies, the very fabric of reality seemed to come alive and follow her directive. She would appear, out of nowhere, in one spot and then in another - sometimes even seeming to be in two places at once. The roots and branches of the trees leapt out at Eskandr, dagger-tipped, to tangle, stab, and skewer them from every direction. Knives of hard water lashed up from the puddles, bogs, and ponds that had been born in the storm. The rain itself turned hard and sharp: a thousand tiny daggers that punctured skin, eyes, and eardrums. The water turned red with blood and the roots of the Blackbriar Trees grew engorged upon it. Those strong and brave enough to launch attacks saw them batted away effortlessly, the yasoi only having to lift a hand from her crutches maybe once or twice. Yet, the Southmen kept on coming and it was clear that this was no mere diversion. For the dozens that fell at the fifth-wheel witch's foot, came dozens more, each eager to claim for him or herself an honoured place in Gronhalle. 

Elements of the Grande Armee, peeled off from the beach, drew near now and engaged the Eskandr in earnest. The king among them roared his battle challenge and carved a swath through his enemies. Yet, now his force found itself at an increasing disadvantage as numbers were concerned, even with some of the Grande Armee turning and rushing back towards the beach as the main invasion force began to land there. It was clear that the Parrench and their allies would have to hold the Eskandr here, else the city would be attacked from two directions and its already-battered defenses split. It was equally clear to the Eskandr that they would have to do something - anything - to alter the tide of the battle to the north: one where they were outnumbered and outgunned. Then, they came face to face: the king and the 'spider' he had sensed. At least... for a moment. Then, she was nowhere to be seen.[/color]
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[hider=Translations]1) Men and women of Parrence, hold firm against the enemy! The Gods are with us!"

2) Get to the beach! Defend the city!

3) The king! The king falls![/hider]
[hider=Notes]1) There are four mighty warriors of the Æresvaktr present, and each will need to be dealt with if you are Parrench or an ally or assisted if you are Eskandr or an ally. They are:
[list][*]Thorunn Silverhair: crown princess of Heglelich, her father was the one who was sent to the Visitor's tale in the opening chapter. She is in competition with her two brothers to distinguish herself in battle and win the crown. A complete pyromaniac, she is the arcane witch who sent that wave of fire forward that wiped out much of the forest.

[*]Olaf the Aged: an elder shaman, Olaf has survived countless raids and battles. He is a master of the forest and the weather, a weaver of spells and poisons, and a healer of the land and its people. Chanting paeans to the gods, he has landed on the beach, turning much of Nettle's work against her allies.

[*]Hrolf Bloodaxe: A tall, wiry berserker, he has leapt from his ship and raced ahead of his allies, cutting a swath of destruction through his enemies. He is an absolute wildman: extremely quick, nimble, and vicious. He dual wields axes that he both chops with and throws, calling them back to his hands with the magnetic powers of Thunder magic. He generates further crude axes by Blood drawing from fallen enemies and forming them. At any given time, there will be at least four (and up to ten) other blades under his control, forming both an offensive and defensive kill zone.

[*]Sweyn Thunderspear: The foremost Thunder warlock of Eskand and perhaps the known world, the stern, towering figure of Sweyn, with his great forked beard and bristling eyebrows, remains hidden, as he is also an illusionist of some ability. He continues his relentless strikes against the city and any targets wearing conductive armour. His power and precision are not to be underestimated.

[*] Horik the Gold: a deadly illusionist and assassin, Horik is small, wiry, and muscular, with long golden hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He uses powerful Force magics to boost his speed to inhuman levels, and Essence magics to suffer no ill effects while rendering his enemies, sluggish, ill, and impotent. Fading in and out of sight, he kills with knives and shortswords, licking the blood of his enemies from them in a macabre ritual. He has landed alongside Kol and Vali near the Witch Wood. 

[*]In total, the Æresvaktr is made up of:

1) The Nashorn
2) Horik the Gold
3) Hrolf Bloodaxe
4) Brunhilde of Hegelo
5) Sweyn Thunderspear
6) Olaf the Aged
7) Thorunn Silverhair 
8) Kol, Death's Hand
9) Gudrid Fangtooth
10) Bjørn Coldfist[/list]

2) Queen Eleanor is a Priestess/Paladin type and an absolute defensive powerhouse who focuses on protecting her allies from harm. A near-fifth wheeler, she is very potent, but less versed in single combat with others of similar power. She will provide Force and Blood shields to anyone near her in need of them. If you'd like your character to slip up or nearly die without consequences during this chapter, now is a good time. She'll give all Parrench and allies one get-out-of-jail-free card via a shield.

3) In addition to his fiendishly strong Force abilities, Hrothgar is a grandmaster level illusionist, and he has a team of fellow illusionists, hidden within his forces, who are helping him to enhance his display. They are employing both Internal Essence (brain chemistry) and Arcane (light-bending) in this endeavour. This plan would be known to any Eskandr who attended his small council before the ships set off. He is much fond of psychological warfare and trickery. Some say that he is an avatar of the lesser god Joken, the trickster satyr who taught Sister much of her magic.

4) Not everyone has seen Arcel fall. It appears to mostly be high-ranking individuals who will give orders and affect the tide of battle. Those who dive into the river will not find a body. Eskandr in the distance continue to mysteriously drop dead. The death toll is over two hundred now. Some have started praying.

5) Nettle's storm around the beach is too far for her to directly control, so it has been co--opted by the Eskandr, particularly Olaf the Aged, and has been used against the defenders to a significant degree. If you have a character who can fight back and retake control of it, this is their time to shine!

6) Hildr the Red, a Kressian Knight of some renown, has declared for the Eskandr side and is present in this battle. However, she is not wearing her distinctive armour and heraldry and will be difficult to spot among the regular troops. Beware.

7) Lady Tali, a fifth wheel caster, has rolled a natural 20, 19, and 20 on her three big attacks and a 15 on her defense. The dice have spoken. If you are an Eskandr player in her vicinity, you are advised to be [i]very [/i]careful and avoid facing her directly. There is a real chance of serious injury or character death. She needs to be stopped, from your side's perspective, but trying to overcome her with brute force is going to backfire disastrously.[/hider]
[hider=Action Opportunities]1) For Parrench-aligned players, feel free to have your character engage with either mooks (which can be killed without approval) or the Æresvaktr. Just make sure that, if two or more people are going for the same target, you coordinate.

2) For Eskandr-aligned players, it is time to support your king(s)! Kol is under attack from the yasoi monster known as Lady Tali and could probably use an assist, despite his own legendary strength. Hrothgar is marching up the beach, crushing the Parrench as he goes, seemingly invincible, but he will not only be fighting Queen Eleanor, he will be a target for all sorts of opportunistic attacks. Don't forget about the assassin, Sir Rodric, and the many player characters.

3) For yasoi, the baroness has struck the enemy a mighty low and given you some breathing room, but the Eskandr keep coming. Now, the relief force from the Grande Armee is arriving. How will you capitalize? Will you fight your own battles, assist Lady Tali, or take on a dangerous enemy in single combat?

4) There are still plenty of PvP opportunities and I encourage this over fighting NPCs where possible. Just make sure that you collab and determine your ending.

5) The main thing this round, aside from reactions, is to pick your fights and start playing them out!

[center][h3]Sorry for the delay, and happy posting![/h3][/center][/hider]
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