It was too soon, far too soon. The city's defenses were still down. They’d need at least a couple days to get it up and running, which meant they had no defenses against whatever hell was opening up before them. Wimbleton was god knows where, presumably with Garrote, Karfice was out and about somewhere, Sodrue was still busy, and now Leo had just run out on them. They had the forces to fight back, to defend themselves, but they were scattered, split apart like a herd of cattle. He needed to think, needed to make a decision and fast.
Trenton stooped low, scooping Millie into his arms and bolting for the door, grabbing Raligoth by the hair on his way out, “We need to run, get out of the city!” He shouted behind himself, trusting that Kiva and Gyrus would have the sense to follow.
Trenton sprinted down the winding wooden hallway of the inn's spare rooms, bolting his way forward without regard for the rest of the world. He slammed into the front door of the building, spilling out onto the shaky cobble street just as the chaos began to unfold. Above them, at the center of the swirling whirlpool of madness, shapes began to emerge, bodies woven of stone with iridescent purple crystals poking out at odd angles. They bore down as would meteors, unfurling and spreading through the city with remarkable vigour.
“Alright lads! It’s go time! Let’s give ‘em a show to remember!”
From behind Trenton, herding a line of confident, minimally armed soldiers and Leo, was Orjrus, the soldier that caught Trenton after he fell earlier. He smiled at Trenton, Kiva, and Gyrus, placing a comforting hand on Trenton’s shoulder.
“Trenton! Glad you could make it! Give us a hand, would ‘ya?” Orjrus said, patting Trenton on the back with enough force to send him sumbling a couple feet forward, wind knocked straight from his lungs. “Oh, Gyrus! That’s where you are! Been looking for you. Ready to fight!”
Gyrus stiffened into a sloppy salute, “Of course, sir! Always!”
“What’s happening?” Kiva shouted out as soldiers grabbed and lifted each of them atop their shoulders, breaking out into mad sprints towards the center of the storm by rooftop.
“No clue!” Orjrus called back over his shoulder, slamming straight through the chest of the first of the golems, which had barreled its way straight through a long line of houses to get to them.
Around them, other soldiers did the same, blasting through the massive stone creatures, tall enough to peer over the rooftops from the streets, with little difficulty, blasting them apart like they were made of clay. It was remarkable. Even as the streets swarmed with hundreds upon hundreds of these stone goliaths, they were holding their own, soldiers all across the city leaping about and bursting through vital points with remarkable efficiency. For some of the larger ones, Trenton even watched the soldiers tag team, beating them from multiple directions in perfect synchronicity with each other.
But that didn’t account for the whole of the madness. Just beneath the iris of the storm, Trenton could hear a wild fray of metal against metal, a sword fight audible from even miles out. And next to them, massive slashes like the ones Wimbleton performed back in Avar appeared, sundering the earth into massive, sheared cliffs which rubbed violently against each other, only further shifting the playing field.
Then, from the great rift overhead, one gassalian hand emerged, slamming into the ground and sending tons of earth and debris rolling outwards like a tsunami. Then another hand emerged, following the first, and finally a head, two gargantuan crystals where once eyes would’ve been. The whole creature, a mix of twisted black flesh and crystal, rended itself from the rift, leering over them with bile in its crooked, toothless smile. Around them, soldiers began to coalesce inwards, forming fortified clumps and lines around each other, keeping forward stride by slamming massive chunks of building and earth out of their way.
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The creature lifted its hand again, blotting out the very stars above them with immense form. The soldiers looked up, watching as it positioned itself to kill them, squish them like little insects, but they continued undeterred, more and more soldiers pooling together by the moment. Then, in the blink of an eye, the hand fell, divine will made real.
“Alright boys! Hold the line!” Orjrus cried.
Instantly, the soldiers fell from the roofs, spreading out evenly, arms stretched towards the sky without an ounce of fear in their hearts. They couldn’t be serious. They meant to catch it? Madmen, the lot of them, and it was all of their lives at stake. If this didn’t-the ground buckled beneath them as the hand collided with them, darkness overwhelming them.
“AND PUSH!”
Around them, each and every soldier strained against the impossible weight bearing down on them, bursting blood vessels and tearing muscles from the effort, and somehow, despite all odds, they were winning. They fell to their knees, pressing head, shoulders, arms, everything they had into the effort, quaking from head to toe, but they did falter. Even as the ground broke beneath them, they did not falter. Little by little, they pushed back against the goliathan's hand. They needed just a little more, just another solid push and they might actually be able to hold it.
Just then, moving at blitzing speeds, but a blur amidst the darkness, Arthur blazed towards them, grabbing the middle finger of the beast's wretched hand and yanking it forward as he flew. In one clean movement, it snapped backwards, pulling the hand upwards and forcing a deafening cry of anguish from the beast’s mangled lips.
In one last heave, the soldiers threw the hand skyward, forcing the creature to stumble backwards. Next to them, Arthur, Wrigely, and Sir Bolovin appeared, each one with a unique longsword in hand–legendary weapons.
“Marvelously done!” Sir Bolovin cried, hoisting his blade forward, posture perfect and grandiose. “I’ll say we see to this miscreant, and you lot,” he nodded towards Trenton, Leo, and Kiva, “would do well to see to the center. Your friend wages there as we speak.”
Wriggley looked at them, eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly puckered. “And be quick. We don’t have time to spare.”
“That we don’t,” Arthur said, stepping forward and pulling Orjrus up to his feet by the forearm. He looked around at the soldiers, many of whom had collapsed the moment the hand was rebuked. “Rise! This fight isn’t over yet! We’ll fight to the last, and die with heads held high!” Arthur raised his sword into the air, loosing a wicked battlecry from his throat, which the wounded and tired soldiers returned with renewed vigour, each with a brilliant light shining in their eyes.
Together, Sir Bolovin, Arthur, and Orjrus leapt into the air, easily clearing hundreds of feet to roll onto the arm of the creature they’d just pushed back. They were making their way up its arm, shooting the head. Around them, the soldiers all dug their feet into the ground, bursting forward to follow beneath their three leaders. And next to them, Wriggley threw his arms wide, eyes closed, fortified and ready. Frontal assault, support, and artillery. It was a perfect combo, and now it was in their hands to pull it off.
Trenton grabbed Leo and Kiva with his spare hand, pulling them into a sprint as chaos continued to reign around them, great beast to their side and mile long sword strikes falling all about them. They wove their way forward as best they could, slowed by the chaotic terrain, but determined to see their duty through. They were going to make it, just a little further. Hopefully wherever Karfice and Wimbleton were, they were alright.
By this point, the buildings were naught but rubble, destroyed from the furious clash at the center of it all and replaced with towering spires of crystal which stood ominously still amidst the earth. But just as they breached the last couple slabs of tilted earth, the sky split once again.
-Zenith Cast: Ruin-