Harmony of Chaos; Chapter 6: They're here.
 

It was raining. It was fucking raining. Whatever high overlord of power that controlled the weather was a sick bastard. A REEEEEAL sick bastard. Of all sickness.


But seriously though. Elves stood waiting on the walls. Cirith flew overhead, Draich walked amongst the troops, and everyone was edgy. The Khahalan back-up hadn't arrived. They hadn't even been seen. Their entire city was empty, and there wasn't a sign of a single soul on the path from there to Naggaroth.

Oh, and it was raining. In the middle of the night. FROM ONE CLOUD.

Kal wanted to kill something. At least, that was what he thought...right up until he saw the enemy army starting to approach. Then he was worried, even though they had a hundred ninjas with them. Apparently Thomas' father had gotten hold of the note and stopped all he could.

And to make matters worse...there wasn't really anything else. There was a giant army of all doom and death approaching, and they didn't have the option to run.

AND IT WAS BLOODY RAINING!

Kal muttered under his breath, "This does happen in real life..." He could see his breath. Which explained why he felt cold.

Argriv wanted to hide, but apparently, all hiding places he found were occupied by either venomous snakes or equally venomous drow. <Damn the clasp!> He'd have no choice but to wait and see what happened. <Why hadn't the fricken army arived yet! Hopefully they fell for it. Cirith said they looked as if they had. Why weren't they here!> And then there was the rain. <In all the stories, it rains when nature cries over about to be lost> he mused, <but these were no tears> the cloud and the rain were almost mocking. Like the fact that it was raining on the city more than anywhere else. The poison would soon drip off most of his weapons, after he drew them, and so he countered this by partially filling his dagger scabbard with poison, and keeping it benieth a water-tight skin. He'd done the same for his crossbow bolts. Nothing to be done about the sword. He'd need it to often to sheith it. Since he was used to using a dagger as a defensive weapon, Argriv took the measure of attatching a bucker to his wrist. He could use it reasonably well. Well enough, at least. Nothing to be done but wait. Sit and wait for the worst to come

(OOC: SS, have you posted the existance of a new thread on the last one?)

Thunder claped overhead. "SHUT UP!!!" Peter yelled at it. They had left their packs in their room. They didn't need the extra weight. They wore all their throwing axes on bandoliers around their surcoats. James was cracking his neck. Peter stretching his legs. They were readying for war.

Kishan was cursing. Fervently and inventively. "....fucking rain....fucking from a desert country....godamnall fucking rain.....whoever invented rain should be run through with a rusty nail.....multiple times...."

He was not a happy camper. Sleeping on the Frying Pan 'o Hope, as he'd taken to calling it, (now hanging at his belt) had not improved his disposition.

OOC: Hey, if ghost has the frying pan of hope, can we cook up some eggs of destiny for breakfast? *coughbadjokecough*

Vace stood, as stoic as a statue. The rain didn't bother him, getting a little wet was no problem. He silently watched as the massive army from the north came closer and closer all the time to the castle, and knew that this would be an ugly battle.

Yuniko stood in the rain, focusing. For once she wasn't wearing her cloak, it would get too weighed down by the rain. She looked up, letting the rain drench her face and hair.
The she reached for her weapon, mentally readying herself for the coming battle. <Let them come.>

(OOC: oh, how dramatic. ^_^;; )

Zorha was in the back of the base, waiting for the battle to begin. The medical area was getting ready for injured to come, and Zorha was waiting with Grey, so he could get around faster.

OOC: Assuming everyone isn't combat medics...

The elves looked at the approaching army. It stopped. A slathered on mass of black, steel, stench, and steam. Balistas, seige ladders and towers, and trolls. Ogres, Orcs, goblins, and Trolls of all things. The Drow raised their Repeater Crossbows, making sure the packs were in. The High Elves drew their bows with a fluid and practiced motion, and set arrows to the strings.

Ahead of them, the various commanders roared, then fell silent. There was one very very specific figure that everyone could make out very clearly.

Red, crude, gore decorated armour. Heads of people were on his belt, his massive horse had matching armour and had sprouted horns, and his sword seemed to writhe with a golden energy. It was the same man that Kal had seen in his dream. Exact the very last detail.

It raised it's shimmering sword. The tension in the air shot up to insane levels. The sword pulsed, and two Por'Hui grew out, landed and scurried to opposite sides of the massive army.

Those that didn't have missile weapons on the walls drew their sword and various other weapons.

The herald of all evil looked over his gigantic assembled force, and roared. They could hear it on the walls.

With that, two things happened. One, the shadow on the ground moved forward, charging straight for the city, and Two, arrows fired. With missile weapons of elven craftsmanship, the distance was only a minor hindrance.

A chunk of the front row fell. Arrows were reloaded in the bows while the Repeater Crossbows had the bolt just drop down and shoot. The barrage kept up, firing madly.

But one thing was apparent. The enemy was closing.

OOC: Just fight around, and try to toss in problems that you need to solve that would happen during a seige. Like Seige towers.

OOC: Does Zorha have to be a combat medic, or can he stay back? His problem could be a poison that he has to make a cure for...

A Grappling hook landed near the twins. They looked at it for a moment. "Hold on to something." Peter said as he mounted the wall. James grabbed his belt and the wall. A large ladder was moving upwards carrying a large group of orcs and trolls. Peter hacked at the rope cutting it loose. The ladder fell back into the army. "Take that you dirty sons of whores." James yelled down, pulling Peter back from the battlements.