Battle for the Bridge

From Atlantic Roleplay Wiki

Octavius the Storyteller

A dark shape moved in the shadows. The pale moonlight reflected, for a fraction of second, on the metal of the axe. A log fell, smothered by the forest's soil. The shape moved further away, heavily.

Not far away, they were preparing. Only the repeating song of the nightly insects could be heard, apart of the breath of horses and calm footsteps. By the old wooden bridge, one of the necromancers was meditating, his face hidden under the shade of his black wizard's hat. He looked gloomily at the thick water below him.

The river itself looked anguished, disturbed by the presence of the sinister troop. If the flow had not naturally pushed forward, it would have flown back immediately. The silence was oppressing.

A warrior approached and nodded at the sorcerer. A short glance showed him undistinct forms over the bridge, motionless under the slight nightly breeze. They would not pass. He had commanded himself to trap the bridge, one was never too cautious. A crow moaned somewhere on a tree. He didn't pay attention. Everything was ready. He nodded back, and the armoured warrior armed her heavy crossbow with a fierce shine in her eyes.

At the other side of the bridge, the soldiers waited for the baroness to command the assault. She had told them to be very careful, for she expected, once again, to be tricked by the dark cultists. A captain drove his horse to the little hill where the baroness and her archmages awaited.

'The men are impatient, milady. I fear i will not be able to retain them for long', he whispered.

An arrogant knight frowned and pulled out his precious sword. 'We are numerous. There's nothing to fear, my liege. Are we going to stop and wait for hours before every clearing just because of your paranoia ?'

The baroness slapped him in the face with indignation. 'Do not tell me what to do, Varlan !'

She met the disapproving stare of all the men around her, and sighed. Something wasn't right. She knew they were somewhere, hiding and waiting. But it was already the third time tonight, and nothing had happened. It seemed only her could feel the presence of the necromancers, and she cursed her generals for their blindess. Embarrassed, she nodded at them, and raised her sword to give the assault signal. They rushed at the bridge.

Suddenly, glows of fire burnt the air. Screams spouted out as walls of fire envelopped the first horsemen over the bridge, and their horrible moans of pain mixed with the furious breath of the deadly flames. The army stepped back immediately, leaving its most impatient knights burning to ashes in general indifference.

They were all staring at the huge firewalls, faces painted with horror and amazement. The captain ran at the baroness. 'They have blocked the bridge ! it is all blocked with rocks and it exploded ! We...' He sobbed, terrorized.

Baron Ragnar frowned. He could see forward his most brave soldiers trying to force the passage on the bridge. The horses were mad with terror, and their riders sometimes fell in the fire. Others were trying to move the rocks enough to clear a way through. He saw one of them being literally transpierced by a crossbow bolt before exploding in front of his team. The entrails spouted out everywhere and a sinister smell of burnt meat flew around. Several soldiers turned away to not see. Ragnar looked up and strenghtened his grasp on his spellbook with anger. Another yell from the bridge attracted his attention. Out of the howling black smoke, a confused group of men were carrying a corpse. He rushed at them with a bad feeling.

One of the archmages was already started to utter magic words of healing. Worried faces looked at the laying body of the baroness. Her leg was badly damaged, and blood poured from her chest where a violent impact of energy had melted her chainmail. She was already unconscious. It was more than enough. Ragnar ylled at his personal guard to follow him. Out of the infernal place, where blazing fire and magic spells where tearing as one the remains of the Barony's expedition, the squad of knights galloped away.

Lord Smogg Azalin was grinning with satisfaction. He moved his hands over his head and another lightning striked the other side of the river, with a cracking sound almost hidden by the screams everywhere. The plan had worked beyond his expectations : once again, the Barony was humiliated and held away. At his side, the cohorts of the Cult blasted arrows and bolts towards the melee, while his sorcerers yelled incantations and bashed the air with glowing palms of death.

Suddenly, the bushes on his right opened and a small group of horsemen rushed in with war cries. Their faces looked desesperate and the blaze of the burning bridge reflected on their silver platemails. The Cult leader instantly protected himself with a magic reactive armour, then stepped back, as the closest warriors of the Cult ran and surrounded him to protect their master. Two of the attackers fell within a few seconds, until their leader commanded to run to the forest and prepare to assault again. Already, some necromancers had abandonned the bridge and came spitting a rain of fireballs at the running knights. They stopped when they disappeared in the depths of the woods. Lord Smogg quickly evaluated the situation.

In spite of the position they held, the Cult was now caught between two fires. He spoke a few words to the nearest magus with his low voice, and one by one the cultists retreated, taking advantage of the confusion.

He didn't want to lose his warriors for nothing. The Barony's troops had treacherously attacked by the rear, and they were too numerous for the necromancers to handle two fronts at once. Sooner or later, the infect swarm would manage to cross the bridge.

A necromancer opened a moongate and they vanished one by one into the portal. Behind them, the ennemy was still fighting, this time alone. One of the sorcerers had an evil laughter, which echoed alone in the distorted space as the moongate disappeared.

Little by little the firewalls extincted and the wind blew the smoke away. Only desolation was still holding the other side. The Barony's sergeant commanded to his few remaining men to pause. Was it a new trick ? His beating heart didn't know what to do. He sighed with relief when he noticed baron Ragnar standing beyond the river, with his guards. He wanted to shout victory, but his throat could only croak half a prayer. The land was theirs. They had defeated the dark armies... at least that's what he thought. What he wanted to think. He sat on a rock and stayed silent. There was almost nothing left of his squadron. He could only see smoking corpses and agonizing friends. Now the moon and retiring and the Sun began his rise. The sergeant hid his face behind his hands.