The warband sat in silence, their forms melding with the dark terrain and hiding in the tents as they waited for the return of another Infernal Legion group that would eventually come to rest. Shade’s sharp eyes caught the glint of their armor through the gate entrance, the dim light of dusk playing tricks with the shadows. But Shade, in his element, knew better. He crouched low, his form almost indistinguishable from the surroundings, a blend of shadows lacking physicality.
The Infernal Legion group moved in staggered formation, clearly fatigued from whatever skirmishes they had encountered earlier in the dungeon. Their armor bore the marks of battle, blast marks and cracks on their plating, and shrapnel wounds on the limbs, yet they maintained their discipline well for a retreating group. The warband, however, had them encircled without their knowing.
Skǫrner was the first to strike. His skirmishers surged after him from their hidden positions, blades flashing as they fell upon the group, surprising some of them and cutting off limbs. At the same time, the Legion soldiers barely had time to raise their shields before a wave of arrows and daggers from Shade’s squad hit them from the side, some arrows even piercing the cracks in their armor and maiming them.
Jorrik’s men moved in next, charging the disoriented Legionnaires with brutal efficiency, shields blown out of hands with the heavy strike of their axes and smashing the soldiers to the ground. The clash of steel and the thud of heavy axes against shields filled the air as the heavy infantry made quick work of the front line. The Legion soldiers, though highly trained, found themselves overwhelmed by the sheer speed and aggression of the whole combat.
The Legion, broken and outnumbered, tried to rally, but it was too late. Jorrik’s men pressed harder, their axes cleaving through the remaining soldiers. It was over before it had truly begun.
Skǫrner surveyed the carnage, his face smeared with blood. “Not even worth the effort. I could’ve taken them out myself,” he muttered, wiping his blade on a fallen Legionnaire’s cloak.
“Don’t get too cocky, Skǫrner. Not everything will go that easy,” Shade replied, his voice attentive.
---
As the warband cleaned up the aftermath, the air suddenly seemed to change—thickening, chilling. Out of nowhere, Vaidvėlis appeared, as if materializing from the air itself. He wasn’t alone; behind him, his eerie mages followed, their rigid, impassive presence feeling artificial and unsettling.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Vaidvėlis said, his voice unnervingly cheerful for a man who usually reeked of grave seriousness. His black robes swayed slightly, their fringes playing softly in the wind. “I see you’ve dealt with some of the trouble already. My apologies for being late, but stealth—well, not my specialty.” A statement that appeared serious and understandable as he is a mage, and yet, how did his presence go unnoticed until now? Vaidvėlis’ cold, calculating eyes returned as he looked to one of the fallen Legion soldiers that lay before him, poking it with his staff. “Though I do wonder if you were wise to jump on them so early. What if the Legion is losing terribly already and they banked on these reserves?” Vaidvėlis stated as he calmly walked toward Shade.
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"The opportunity seemed good—not too many to handle and enough to make it matter. Any later, and this returning group would've reinforced the camp, making it messier. In regards to the dungeon, I'd say they’re about three-fourths of the way through now, relying on their elite troops." Shade replied starkly.
Vaidvėlis’ eyes twinkled with something almost playful, a rare expression on his face. “Indeed. But what if you are wrong? What if the Legion hasn’t cleared the dungeon as well as you think? And what if I hadn’t decided to grace you with my presence to help finish their failed siege? With no magical support, what would happen then?”
Shade’s shadow form darkened and became clearer at the jab. "I acted because I was certain of all these factors. I know the Legion's strength as well as the dungeon master better than anyone. The only variable is that they both have trump cards reserved for the end," he said, his voice cool and measured. "Besides, if I waited for every possibility, we'd never make a move when it matters."
"I can appreciate your confidence, and it appears to be grounded in understanding of a sort, but what if that certainty has led you to disaster now?” Vaidvėlis pressed, his tone half-mockingly. "There’s always a price for overconfidence. Besides, you never answered how you were certain this old mage would grace you with his presence."
"I just did. I have a good grasp of people," Shade remarked confidently, waving aside the question.
"Do you now?" Vaidvėlis asked with raised intrigue. "Or do you perhaps have some ability to perceive another's intent?" he said, spying the shadow demon up close. "Is that perhaps your trade secret? Well, it doesn't matter—you wouldn’t tell me if it was."
"Was that all of your pointless questioning, old man?" Shade replied with annoyance.
"Stop your bickering, you two," Jorrik’s voice was a low growl, his heavy, fur-lined armor seeming to bristle as he stood between them. “I came here to seize an easy siege victory and to desolate what remains of the Legion. I intend to claim both. Your petty theoretical disputes can be resolved later," Jorrik stated with ambitious hunger. "I will take command of this siege, mage,” he shot a look at Vaidvėlis. “You’ll be the squad leader for the DPS backline, and fill me in on your capabilities. As for you, Shade,” his gaze shifted, “you’ll lead the auxiliary scouts and infiltration, meaning you intercept small ranged threats in combat and do spotting. Understood?” Jorrik's voice was authoritative and also seemed joyous, as though he missed this experience.
Shade gave a simple nod, his prior annoyance tempered now by pragmatism. "Fine."
Vaidvėlis, though clearly displeased, accepted with a begrudging sigh. “Very well, Jorrik. But don’t presume I am not experienced in this field myself. If this is how the contract goes, then for now I submit to your command.”
“Keep your petty pride for after the victory, mage," Jorrik grumbled back. "Well then, let’s get on with it. Wouldn't want to keep the party waiting.” He stated with zeal, stepping over Vaidvėlis’ prior commentary.
The forces quickly mobilized. A thick line of heavy infantry formed at the front, their large axe blades held at the head like buckler shields, their armor plating thick at the chest and with a heavy helmet but light at the arms and legs for better movement. Skǫrner’s skirmishers followed, with their mixture of typical bandit-like weaponry, from dual-wielding blades to Jaegerstock spears. The mages, led by Vaidvėlis, gathered behind them, cloaked in their dark magic and reciting arcane rhymes under their breath. Finally, Shade and his scouts flanked the mages, armed with a mixture of ranged weapons—from typical Darkland longbows designed to pierce and poison large monsters, to simple throwing daggers common in the slums—ready to react to small threats that tried to flank. And so, the advance began at Jorrik's beck and call.