A Pyrrhic Sword; Kal'Valen Falls

[HappyShackles 886]

 

 

10th of the Grand Harvest, 1542

 

The thunderous march of the armies of man resounded through the frigid air of Avar, the cold wind slicing through the Emperor as he sat atop his massive destrier, surrounded by his entourage of generals, lords and knights.

 

The siege engines slowly turned towards their target; the fortress of Kal’Valen called standing ominously in the distance; a challenge far beyond what the armies of Oren under John the First had faced in the previous battles against the dwarven menace.

 

Engineers stood ready by the trebuchets lined up stoically inside the Orenian siege camp, the siege teams lining up their boulders, adjusting their payloads. An eerie silence fell upon the battlefield.

 

And finally, it was broken.

 

“FIRE!”

 

On cue, boulders launched through the air, casting imposing shadows over the snowy ground as they sailed towards Kal’Valen. The exchange had begun. Urguanite missiles crashed into the Orenian siege camp while imperial boulders smashed into their foes walls, crumbling the mighty defenses of Kal’Valen.

 

Yet the torrent of stone and arrows was found both ways, and the siege camp of man was nearly eradicated in the coming hours. Each team of engineers lost their trebuchets, one by one, as the dwarven ballistae smashed them to bits, leaving the armies of man with a singular option remaining, though they had made no significant breach in the castle itself.

 

And the charge sounded, and the horns blew.

 

The Imperials swarmed the treacherous walls, propping their ladders against the stony surface and clambering up. A fierce melee erupted on the battlements of the foreign fortress while archers exchanged fire, men seeking their way into the upper walls.

 

Upon Vespasian de Sola making an offering of five-hundred minas to a pagan skygod shrine, the remaining siege team, with Prince Charles and Vespasian commanding, rushed to the looming hulk of a dwarven catapult. Wood elven archers picked off dwarven arbalests, protecting the Imperial siege team commandeering their new machine of war to breach the final wall. Yet it was for naught, as if by divine intervention of Yemekar himself, a boulder fell from the sky and crushed said trebuchet.

 

No matter, the Imperials had GOD on their side. They would find another way in, and that’s exactly what they did. Doors broke, hallways crumbled, wood splintered. And a roar resounded.

 

The final melee erupted atop the peak of the fortress with the pair of Oscar Lancefeld and Rhys Roke soaring first at the helm as brothers in arms....

 

When all the commanders had fallen and the battle seemed lost, Rael Acker rallied the disoriented and stuck warriors of the Empire. Leading one final and savage assault, doors were kicked open and the dwarven defenders squealed as pigs as the rallied and reinvigorated men of Oren slaughtered them, hailing Rael as a hero of Oren.

 

A meager group of young Orenian men standing amongst many levels of corpses in the macabre aftermath of a costly battle.

Yet no cost was too great, for victory was the Empire’s, and it would certainly not be the last.

[mmat 7460]

"The noose tightens." says Baron Oz.

[GloriaPreussens 798]

John the Lesser recalls Ser Rael in fact taking commander after so many fell, finding it odd how the notable warrior who had earned the Emperor's favor is left out when Charles was carried wounded from the castle

[AGP 3169]

"Bread from wheat," mutters Bertrand, pausing his farm work to trace a lorraine cross in the air before him.

[HeroTech 55]

Ser Rael the Unburned, of the House Acker, would recall the end of the battle much different. He would recall bashing in the final Dwarven skull with a glorious yell, before he had lead the charge with an "AVE". Not this Oscar or Ryhs folk.

[ThatWeirdGirl 432]

A mali'ker woman with blotchy skin doesn't join the victory cries, still feeling rather detached from the battle.

[idiot 502]

Garsto holds his scimitar to his chest, remembering those commanders and men who died... so many...

[sneLf 314]

"May God honor those who have fallen..."

[lawnmowerman 3040]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZZUY32iCzU

 

Rhys Roke stood beside Oscar, his gaze drifting towards Ser Rael Acker the Unburned, as he crushed the last dwed head mercilessly. He'd murmur to Oscar, dragging in a sharp inhale.

 

"They never said winning was easy."