“Mountains heed my call, stone of the great hall.
Our forges burn bright, our spirits brighter.
The enemy comes again like darkening tides.
O’ mighty mountains, heed my call.
Bless your children who fight under the Amber Sun.
Bless your children who stave off the dark tides.
O’ mighty stones, grants us the strength to persevere.
By the fires of our anvils and by fires of fists.
Grants us the strength to smite this evil.”
- Dwarven Runic Inscription of Strength “Blessing of the Amber Sun”, Inscription Found On Shield
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“Hissez Haut!” The admiral shouted from his perch, his voice booming across the harbour.
Upon his command, the three frigates dropped their sails and advanced with the wind out into the waters of Cyndralia. Drums, music and fanfare accompanied their deployment and a plethora of songs carried along the winds. Though their fleets were small, there was still a sense of awe and respect that came with the majesty of bearing witness to warships leaving harbour. In a similar vein to their army, the parade that followed the deployment of troops, or in this case vessels, was always a welcome distraction to the harsh realities before arrival at a battlefield.
Gratia was a state located on the main island of an archipelago aptly named Fluainn Tranoire, or River’s Crossing in common. One large landmass was surrounded by a dozen smaller islets and sat in between the rivers that flowed down from the Starhollow Mountains, and those that flowed from both the Evenspire Peaks and Kraka Mourn which fed into The Evening Lake that bordered Gratia’s eastern coasts. Here, Gratian, Potomian, and Ostian ships often patrolled the large expanses of water in order to ensure the steady flow of trade, an agreement that extended even into the civil war. Making the naval realm, ironically one of the only places in which the Free Gratian State and the Gratian Kingdom do not fight in. Of course, small scale skirmishes do occur but those are few and far between after the first and last major engagement at the onset of their now decades long civil war.
What was unacceptable to the Free Gratian State or colloquially known as the Gratian Republic however, was the interception of a stray messenger pigeon which carried a letter indicating the return of a Gratian Noble. Worse yet, was the supposed presence of one of the original Montroi royals was returning to stir up trouble, an act that might reignite fervour for the royalist cause and an unacceptable affront to the hard fought freedom of the Republic.
Thus the Council of Citizens gathered together and for the first time in a long time, unanimously agreed that something should be done. Whilst an army regiment remained on standby in the harbour town of Nordmer in case of trouble, it fell to the admiralty to handle this unwelcome incursion. Operating under the knowledge that no ships had been dispatched from the Kingdom, they knew they had to strike first. The operation thus fell under the command of the Republic’s second Sea Lord. Sporting a well trimmed beard and the physique of a warrior, Admiral Allard was a pragmatic veteran who was no slouch when it came to the defence of his homeland. A natural candidate to lead the Republic’s southern naval forces.
With most of his fleet still out on patrols or beyond reasonable reach, Admiral Allard had mustered what patrol ships he could and refitted them for a search and destroy mission. The Republic might have a meagre fleet in comparison to its neighbours, but each captain it had were veterans from the days when the fledgling republic had to ward off both the royalists and intrusive neighbours from Traxia. His only worry therefore, was not the crew but the quality of his aging ships in being able to accomplish their tasks. Three, he therefore surmised would be more than enough to stop one errant royalist ship. With ramming manoeuvres if necessary.
The governor’s mansion provided him easy access to carry his voice into the harbour and overlooked the rover approaching the Potomian landmass in the distance. According to Republic spies, the enemy ship had passed the Trato-Potomian checkpoint yesterday and was sailing at speed forward, passing this sleepy little harbour town on its journey. It was also where the parade served a secondary purpose as he ordered both the town, the ships and the people to throw on a parade. One that would almost look regal as if holding a welcoming ceremony in the hopes of luring the royalists to make a mistake. For now, he watched through his spyglass as his frigates maintained a friendly facade. For now.
His assistant then tapped him on his shoulder to redirect his focus. Admiral Allard turned his spyglass over to settle in on a medium sized ship passing up the waterway from Potomia. Breaking out of the usual trade lanes, the ship seemed on a course bound directly for Nordmer and the Admiral gestured at his subordinate to alert the army troopers. His attention went back to analysing the ship on approach and determined it to sit somewhere between a frigate and a sloop. A corvette perhaps, or a blockade runner. Definitely a fast ship. To his surprise however, the royalist ship looked nothing like a Gratian, Traxian or Potomian ship. It seemed completely foreign in design and upon noting that, Admiral Allard suddenly had a grim thought cross his mind. We barely even considered the possibility of foreign backers for the royalists. Damn. What if there are ships hiding in the trade lanes? Just waiting for us to pounce just to attack? What if the royal isn’t even on this ship? What if it isn’t even this ship?
Whatever the case, he silenced his thoughts as he reassessed the situation. None of his doubts mattered right now, the die had been cast and the next phase belonged solely to the fleet captains on how they would take care of the royalist ship. The overall battle plan was simple enough. One to blockade, one to harass and close distance, the last one performs the boarding actions. Each aspect is managed by a captain in ascending level of seniority respectively, ensuring the greatest chance of success. Worse comes to worse, they had orders to simply sink the ship if capture of the royal wasn’t possible.
The ship passed by the first set of buoys that indicated proper entry into the Gratian sphere of influence. On the balcony above him, his signaller looked down for confirmation and Allard nodded. After a moment, the signaller pulled back and began waving flags around in a pattern to signal for the operation to begin.
The Morette, Merle, and Colombe broke out of their cruising formation and spread out, sailing forward at full speed with the wind at their backs. The frigates surging forward seemed to bring no noticeable change in the behaviour of the royalist ship however, so Allard turned his spyglass back to the shipping lanes. No unusual movement yet. To them this probably just looks like an average coast guard interception. Just an hour to go.
It was a tense wait as both sides drew closer, but after what felt like an eternity. He could tell the ships were within combat ranges. Allard raised an arm and gestured for his signaller to alert the town.It wasn’t long before the festive drum beats below changed to a more rhythmic one as the republic’s troops got ready for a fight. A chilling breeze blew past him and Allard shivered at the sensation as he watched the two sides raced directly towards each other. He was surprised by the fortitude of the royalist captain, on some levels, this was a hopeless situation for them. They were in a brig or blockade runner up against three frigates, and too far in to escape given the manoeuvring required in order to avoid the frigates.
Stolen novel; please report.
Allard’s anxiousness turned to horror when he spied two figures walking up to the prow of the blockade runner. He couldn’t tell who they were but judging just from what he could see, he could tell one was heavily armoured. The blockade runner seemed dead set on a collision with the Merle when he saw a purplish glow begin to emanate from the runner. Get out of there! He wanted to yell.
He blinked and he missed it. Something had happened to the Merle and it failed to manoeuvre to intercept the blockade runner, leaving the Morette and Colombe to chase after it. His gaze turned to the two frigates as the Colombe dropped its anchor and tacked to perform a terrifyingly sharp turn in an attempt to halt the runner’s advance. Allard winced as he could imagine the groaning of wood and metal at the stress that the frigate was going through from the manoeuvre. Yet just as it seemed to prepare to board, armoured figures leapt over the sides of the blockade runner and smashed onto the side of the Colombe, embedding heavy gauntlets into the hull and climbing up like some demented monstrosity.
Admiral Allard kept his cool and gestured to the signaller. The man seemed surprised at his new orders but saluted back, beginning to wave his flags around in an attempt to warn the town. There was a tense silence as nothing seemed to change until the town’s bell towers all began ringing in a pattern that signalled imminent conflict.
A flash of light caught his attention and he turned just as a spell smashed onto the wards protecting the town itself. Before he could ascertain what it was, a dozen more seemed to appear out of nowhere and smash into the harbour’s defences.
Frantic footsteps sounded from behind him and he saw the concerned faces of the governor and his entourage rushing over.
“Admiral! What’s happening? I thought the battle was to be out at sea! And those ghastly lights, was that the arcane?” The governor asked.
“That’s the plan. I’m simply just having everything ready in case of an emergency. Everything is under control.” Admiral Allard reassured the portly man, “The royalist has just been confirmed hostile and-”
“Admiral!” The signaller shouted from the other balcony.
Allard turned to follow the voice but it was too late. The wards protecting the town exploded under a brilliant purple light, the magic shockwave making even the earth rumble beneath their very feet. Impossible! Their magic overwhelmed the wards? From a ship!?
Another boom shook the town and this time he was thrown to his feet alongside the governor and his entourage. More bright flashes of light filled the sky as a sickening feeling twisted a knot in his stomach. The air was heavier, denser and more purple than he remembered. Grah! Siege mages, glorious. As if we didn’t have enough problems.
Before he could recover, something else smashed into the side of the governor’s residence and he felt the entire structure shake as bits and pieces started falling off.
“Evacuate the structure!” He yelled.
The governor and his staff acquiesced at once and scrambled away. Two marines rushed into the room as the staff exited, casting worried looks at the admiral only for him to shoo them away. He turned back to gaze at the sea only to find the Colombe disengaged and seemingly joining the blockade runner in its journey. Dammit! They’ve been taken down! Blasted royals!
His spyglass then landed on the Morette just to be met with a curious sight. It seemed to have anchored in place, coming to a halt far behind where the blockade runner and Colombe were. The Merle was in much worse shape, he could see strange misshapen beings wandering the decks and could only conclude that whatever magic was unleashed had devastated the ship. Hold on, that’s the same magic used on the town!
Peering over the balcony he didn’t need to use the spyglass to see that the harbour was in rough shape. A dark purplish haze hung over the areas around sea level and bodies littered the streets just below the governor’s mansion. There were some distant sounds of fighting as the republic army troopers held their line somewhere, but for the most part, Allard could only hear the screams of the dying and the unnatural shuffling of creatures in the alleyways.
“Admiral, we have to go.” One of his marines tugged at his sleeve, the two soldiers having also spent the moment observing the carnage.
Stunned and completely caught off guard by the scale of the devastation, Admiral Allard mutely nodded. The two marines hurriedly held him by his arms and started physically dragging him out of his stupor. By the divines, we’ve failed. And the royalists… what dark sorcery are they bringing to the field now? This… this miasma and darkness. It is unnatural. And that glow… for a moment it was like a star was in front of us, yet, for it to bring such destruction… The council and army must be warned. The Republic must prepare, the war’s going to kick off again. Heavens help us all.
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Meanwhile, Deep Below the Highwall, Arteria
A fusillade of clockwork cannons thundered in the distance, their glorious roar bringing out the divine power of the Stone in all its glory. Carnage and death followed every belch of fury as explosions blanketed the cavern approach. One shell even struck down a dark fiend; the house sized creature letting out a roar even as the top half of its twin moose-like head was nothing but blood and bone.
Bolts and javelins followed the explosive volley and slammed into the oncoming horde to great effect. Ranks of shimmering shields steadied themselves as the unceasing tide continued to flow forwards without stopping. Like the beat of a marching band, the second rank of clockwork cannons let loose another volley of death. So great was the sound throughout the caverns that the screams of dying creatures were drowned out by the mighty roar of the cannons.
Horns sounded from atop the great battlements, the noise spurring forth its defenders as the shieldwall advanced. Pikes bristled out from the shielded formation, the tortoise like formations moving as trained squares of death as they met the dark horde.
Their armour glistened a warm orange gold under the backdrop of the Amber Sun. The large spherical representation of the Stone itself, hung high above the caverns, lighting up untold miles of the deep. As if the God had cast one eye to the workings of his people. To inspire fear and reverence in equal measure. An unblinking, uncaring observer.
Limbs, arms and mutated appendages were torn off with prejudice as the armoured squares impaled anything and everything that went close to their positions. Those that bypassed them found themselves meeting with a wall of axemen that wasted no time in hacking down the foulness that assailed them.
Another thunderous boom echoed from the cannon line as the first of the clockwork creations had successfully reloaded. This time, the explosions targeted the greatest of the creatures; a titan standing as tall as six stories that had emerged from the shadows beyond. Explosions riddled its body as flesh, bone, and blood burst forth in a crimson shower from each impact. Fleshy chunks the size of people were blown apart as the forest of strange bones splintered into a deadly shower for its own kind below. The creature barely had time to let out a gurgling death rattle when the second rank of cannons fired as well.
Once, it had been a creature filled with a plethora of strange bones, then the amalgamated flesh of hundreds of creatures. Once it had been a monstrosity, fuelled by darkness and a lust for the souls of the living. Once, it had dozens of arms, a terrifying reminder of all those lost to the dark. Once, it had been a walking horror, flesh dangling from its form as exposed remainders of where yet living creatures were fused to its very form. Now, it was nothing more than pockmarked craters and exposed organs, a wretched failure.
The manifestation of echoes stood unmoving for a few seconds, the creature busy trying to comprehend the violent fury unleashed upon it. When it finally did, it crumpled in on itself as the darkness fuelling it evaporated into nothingness, leaving the husk of a monster behind. The smaller servants of darkness retreated at once, their baleful panicked shrieks bringing great joy to the defenders. Those less capable of cognition continued their mindless charge, their existence brought to a swift end by pike and shot.
A cheer echoed from the defenders, the dark tide had been stemmed once more, its wretched flow cast asunder as the Amber Sun bloomed brighter than ever. They had survived the onslaught of chaos, the manifestation of evil contained. Yet it would only be another week or so before the darkness returned. For much like the tides, there would be no respite.
But the dwarves were content. Today, they survived. Their unending duty performed as they always have. Throwing back the darkness that stretched deep into the earth. They had earned their brief reprieve. For that was what the oath of the Sentinels bade them to do. To hold back the echoes of the past, to stand their ground against the dark, beneath the star that loomed ominously above them, the Amber Sun.