Children of Terra

~Dawn of the battle~ ~Triton-tainted Land~ ~Castle Siege~ ~Vykan, Korybant~ Once readied, the siege began with a circled advance by archers; the days prior filled with arrow-rain. Now was a suppression storm upon the barricade-balustrades. Triton mages chanced the exposure less and less, as the archers used simple sharpened wood sticks from the surrounding crag-trees. Without fletching, without point, the arrow gained two qualities: -- one, severe unpredictability, this caused a failure of Triton to guess where to defend -- two, absolute cheapness, sourced from the crag-trees; and thus maintained perpetually.       A signal was given to the ram-shielded Korybante, and they began the push-advance. The gnashing whoosh-by of magic bolts upon archers began fading as attention focused to pelting the ram. Burnt bark-smell assailed the noses of korybant as they pushed to castle gate. Murder holes opened to drop burning coal or fire rock on the ram, setting the top ablaze. It would hold maybe an hour at this burn-rate. Acceptable to the Ephoroi.       They reached the castle gate, and began the drawing back the ram upon its harness.       Boom! A deeply sonorous vibration rang the gate, causing dusting to fall from the stones around. Frantic voices above the murder holes heard even through the gnat swarms of arrow-fire.       Boom! The gate began to yaw, light cresting between splinters. It appeared already the courtyard was a no-man's land. Vykan signaled of this, telling them to ready their buckler-shields.       Boom! The gate crunched against the stone floor, a scrape that caused adrenaline-rush in Vykan. He began to laugh, loud, as the ram drew back for its final battering.       He coiled his legs as the ram harness tensed under tensile force. Korybant began to mirror this, ready to blitz the no-man's land. Focused on the impact point, Vykan breathed inward as the ram crashed into the gate, battering the defense beams into flying splinters; Vykan a scant second behind. The Triton knew this would happen, but underestimated fanatic zeal. The first magic volley whirled the korybant wave, crashing into shield, into armor, some managing to deflect missiles with blade. Vykan analyzed the courtyard as he ran over ditch, around spike barricade -- prodding himself in the thigh with blade point to overcome glancing burn-pain from magic blow.       They destroyed all the stairs, and surely barricaded the keep door. The only thing keeping the no man's land from a graveyard was arrow-storm; which felled some wall guardians into the courtyard. The bodies looked like pincushions. Vykan hatched a simple plan, shouting to korybante: "Get into groups! Get the fallen, bring them as sandbags to the keep gate! Dead will absorb magic!" As he finished this, he dove for a body, using it as shield from magic-fire. The flesh bubbled as it took bolt and bolt, Vykan dragging it to the keep gate. Korybante gathered around 5-7 in bunch, using a crude phalanx as they did the same. The bodies of fellows and defenders both were used.       From above, the scene looked like the inside a petri dish; minute things slowly crawling along the inside to moldy bread, steadily forming a mass at the keep gate. Dozens of bodies stacked like cord-wood, braced by korybant around the gate. Gaps were filled by buckler-shield. This will do. Vykan drew a breath, looking at the faces of his fellows. He nodded before speaking. "We do it the old way. Join shoulders friends, this gate won't open by naked woman this day!"       The courtyard behind looked like myrmidon lines; korybant bunched in groups as they withered fire, gathering dead to the keep gate. A group of the most massive korybant joined as living ram against keep gate; the bashing slow, thankless work comparatively. This is damned work! The fibers of wood groaned as centimeter purchase made, bash after bash; the only give being scrape-lines below the keep door. Every bash made gaps that could peer through: looking like makeshift barricade in the keep. So, not enough time to prepare, then.       As increasingly more korybant made it to the body-wall, more focus could be given to the beating of the keep gate. The body-wall smelled nauseating, some getting so hot that eyeballs popped and flesh sizzled like grill-sear, the mages fervent. After what was surely the penultimate bashing, Vykan shouted out for 'ready.' Same as the korybant rallied and beat the gate wide, a great swarm of mage-volley flew to meet them. Many fell back, burned too much to stand. Some immolated into screaming shapes, rolling as mage-flame broiled them alive. Vykan himself had dove at first chance, rolling to the side and looking to the scene.       Upturned tables and cabinets served as pillbox bases for mages and trident-retinue. Vykan rushed up and began a scything whirl to the first line, his korybant wave spilling forth, sowing chaos.       The resistance at the balustrades visibly lessened, signaling to the Ephoroi that the korybant had breached the keep. With cries of command, the main korybant host rushed the castle, shielded by the volley-swarms of archer fire. Thousand-strong poured in, some falling to mage fire, some from murder hole magma; but tide flowed nonetheless.       Vykan had sewn his crop fair; he charged Triton line, batting spear aside, beating mer-men about the face with shield, cutting them down with slashing through-cuts. The korybant made steady progress through the keep, mage-lines falling back lest they fall to blade. Once the greater tide rushed in, full retreat began. Room by room went the bands of slaughterers, traps triggering to take some korybant out, but more yet stepped past. The archer-fire outside remained steady, wailing down upon the defenders whom increasingly saw the happening tide within-keep.       Morale of the Triton had broken, the desperate chancing a dive over the castle walls only to be met by executioner-waves of arrow fire. Some plead for mercy from korybant, met only by neck-slice or beatings to death. None would survive, the very last being slaughtered, tied, and swung from the balustrades as gruesome banners of victory. Shouts from both the korybant and the surrounding armies echoed through the land proximity: this was a great day! ~That evening~ ~Triton lands~ ~Newly-Telkhine castle~ ~Ephoroi Command~ Celebrations had begun throughout the castle, the food and winery stores broken into, and permission granted for korybant to imbibe and partake.       The Ephoroi above had gathered to discuss the after-battle summaries, and refine strategy if needed. The armies Telkhine had; lost a hundred or so archers, half that hoplite defenders, from mage-retaliation. As expected, most of the korybant brunt losses, bringing their numbers down to around 800-850. Mepholon himself ordered a watch for the troubling one, Vykan, and got an unfortunate report he still lived. It seemed that he had taken burns all over his body, only falling to a pike pelted through his gut. The korybant protected him like some bestial pack, making it hard to rid that issue with subtlety. Mepholon sighed.       Reports came in from archer-bands that roamed the outskirts during the battle: many Triton fled in the first place, assailed by the errant wanderers. Last minute supply lines had been harried, and the rear flee-way had been found and trapped. The Ephoroi wondered how many must have been buried trying to get out.       It would seem the simple front push had caused a desperate hope to take the Triton leadership; they did not yet ascertain the pariah intention of the korybant strategy, and worse off they were for it.       All in all, the Ephoroi were satisfied, pleased too strong a word for such losses, but balanced since the dead were korybant. They would hold and reinforce the castle until more could arrive, word already sent back to Telkhine, and began strategies for the push into Triton-heart: Pelagia. ~Meanwhile~ ~In the Keep~ ~On makeshift cots~ ~Vykan, Korybant~ Vykan lay in rest, his body burnt with second-degree burns over arms and legs. This paled to the pain in his abdomen, where a pike had been thrown by damned fish-men. It paralyzed him, severing his spine, so he yet again couldn't see battle through. Vykan knew only to protect vital organs; his head, and cluster of the upper torso. His eyes sunken gaunt from the energies required to infirm these wounds, and so he lay, smiling, as his korybant celebrated. Fellow korybant-injured would try to join in shouting jubilee, or even get up; but they all were lame. Such men would have been sent home had this been life.       Adrenaline faded from his blood, and weariness took its place. For the first time in a long time, Vykan found himself asleep. His final thoughts were of battles to come, the Triton plague like doom ahead.