Duchy of Daele, Aethera
Magnus watched from atop the walls of the central district. The Warchief had moved in completely now. Nothing was stopping him anymore. From his vantage point Magnus could see orcs and others in the Warchief's service flow through the city streets like a sickness coursing through the veins.
Then there were the screams.
He had believed most, if not all, of his citizens had sought shelter in the central district. But from the cries and screams he had been gravely mistaken. Many seemed to have decided to stay within their homes to hope and pray for the best. A hope and prayer that never came as they were dragged from their homes kicking and screaming. Crying babes were torn from their mothers while fathers were lashed and beaten before being dragged away for who-knows-what. Sons and daughters were no better. Either dying for putting up too much of a fight or joining the rest of their family in enslavement to the Warchief.
The Duke. No, he couldn't call himself that any longer, he thought bitterly. He no longer had a duchy to rule over. He had failed his people. Where had he gone wrong, he wondered as he stared out into the massing hordes. Perhaps if he had bent the knee from the start then many of his people would have survived. Or if he had invested in the magical capabilities of his city.
He sighed. Ifs and perhaps. That was all he had now. All any of them had now. He turned around and stared at the Great Cathedral of Daele. Only the large Temple Cities under the rule of the Bishopric of the Mother Goddess surpassed it in size and grandeur.
Some 73,000 souls now filled the confines of the Cathedral, or tried to. Most of the city that had sought shelter here were either in the Cathedral itself or had spilled around the building. Pews and other unnecessary things such as candelabras were taken out to make more room for the poor souls.
He and the Duchess had offered their own Ducal residence as shelter. Some accepted, though many wished to be close to the Holy Mother in their last hours. The nobles on the other hand had barricaded and locked themselves inside their manors. In the opening days of the siege, servants would still go about their business for their masters.
That had ended as it became obvious that this was the end for them all. No more servants and maids came and went from the manors, and most of the nobles within spent their last moments locked in vaults of wealth or perhaps drowning themselves in whatever vices or hedonism they saw fit.
Magnus of Daele glanced over at the Cathedral. His wife was inside tending to the masses and wounded that had found their way there. While they had been bound within the central district he had thought many times to go and see her one last time.
But then he would push those thoughts away. He feared if he came to her for a moment of respite and comfort than he wouldn't have the strength to leave her arms. He didn't want that. The people didn't deserve to see their former ruler hiding amongst them. He was a warrior, and he needed to act like it. Even now as death came for them at last.
It pained him to think of what will become of them soon.
He couldn't bare it no more. If this was to be their final moments. Then he will meet his end on his own accord! With a determined look he descended the stone stairs. As he reached the cobbled stone ground, what remained of his men looked up and stood at attention.
Even now they still offered him respect he didn't deserve, he thought. He strode towards a marble fountain and jumped up on the rim. He turned and dragged his gaze across his men.
"I know what you all must be feeling. Dread. Fear. Helplessness. Worry for not only yourselves but those you care about. I too feel this. I too, dread for what is soon to come. The hordes of hell are at our gate and no matter how hard we fight it isn't enough. What lies on the other side for us? Who knows. Many people claim many things. But few of us truly know what awaits us when we leave this realm for the next."
He paused for a moment and steeled his gaze.
"But what I do know is I will not go quietly there! I will not cower and hide! When the enemy comes for me they will know my fury! They will know my rage! They will remember the name Magnus of Daele! I will not leave this world like those cowards that have sworn their lives to that beast on the horizon! When I leave it, it will be with blade in hand! It will be with courage in my heart! And it will be a cry of battle that they will hear the last of my voice!"
He stopped and jumped down and stood in front of the path to the Cathedral.
"I ask you this. Not as your leader, but as one of your fellow countrymen. As your fellow soldier. Will you fight with me?"
He stepped aside.
"You are free to seek shelter and comfort with your loved ones if you so wish. I do not, nor will not, blame nor judge you. Every man should have the chance to decide when and where they leave this world. You can die with your loved ones. Or you can die gloriously beside me. It is your decision. Whether or not you fight and die in the house of the Holy Mother or side by side with me. You have earned the right to choose to do so."
He marched forwards towards the gate that separated them all from certain death. He stopped and looked back at the collected men.
"Will you fight with me, one last time?"
There were maybe two hundred men left of his army. Yet not a single soldier left his side. If Daele is to fall, it will be with a rallying cry that they'll meet the void beyond with.
Magnus and his two hundred men formed ranks for the last time.
"Raise the gates."
"RAISE THE GATES!"
The order sounded and the portcullis rose. Magnus saw across the bridge as orcs looked up to see what the commotion was about. Feral grins split their faces as battle loomed once more.
"It's been an honor to serve under you Duke Magnus." A soldier stated.
"Magnus." He clarified.
The soldier turned his head a fraction with a questioning look.
"We may have started this war as Leader and Soldier. But we will leave it as equals. If that is alright with you?"
The soldier nodded his head with a smile.
"Aye. Then it's been an honor to fight beside you, Magnus."
"Aye lad. It's been an honor to fight beside you as well. Beside you all."
His soldiers readied their weapons and armor one last time. Straps, bows, and swords were all checked as they made ready to fight once more. Magnus drew his sword. How many lives had it taken in these past weeks, he wondered. It had only tasted blood of the black-sailed corsairs before this war. But soon it's gluttonous feast would come to an end.
Magnus marched forward, and Daele marched with him. The gate closed with a finality as they left. A last act of spite for the Warchief.
The orcs across the bridge sounded a battle horn and made ready for combat. Even as they did, creatures of the deep lunged out of the water nearby. Soldiers died to tentacle and claw even before they even reached the orcs.
But that didn't deter them. They were going to die anyway. Magnus slashed his blade through a claw joint of a giant crustacean before stabbing at the things head. It gurgled before slumping over dead.
The orcs soon grew restless and worried that the sea beasts would take all the fun of their combat! They roared and charged the dwindling remnants of the men of Daele.
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Magnus slashed across the face of some sort of half-octopus half-human creature before moving to engage the greentide. The orcs had a couple heads in height on the humans. But it still didn't matter to them.
Magnus roared as he cleaved his blade in an upward swing that sliced the studded leather of the orc as well as his chest. Red blood spilled forth from the wound as Magnus returned the blade back down and cut the beast's throat. Cutting of it's guttural howl of pain.
A simple thrust pierced the head of another that rushed him soon after. A spinning swing freed the blade and sent the head of another falling from a orc's shoulders.
As they fought, the sea beasts were beginning to attack even the orcs as blood and battle filled the air. A satisfying sight, Magnus thought as his blade vivisected a razor finned flying fish.
He brought his blade down onto a green meaty shoulder. Severing the thick length of muscle that used to be attached to it. The orc roared in fury even as Magnus stabbed his blade down into the knee and through the orc's calf.
The air was knocked from him and his vision blurred slightly as he was thrown back from the orc. He looked up from his prone position as he watched the orc pull his blade from his flesh. He glared at the blade then at Magnus before he limped his way towards him.
Magnus made to get up, but his head was still ringing from the impact and was slow to react. The orc neared him and raised his own blade to finish him off. His life was only prolonged because of the soldier he had spoken to before. The lad had charged the orc with a sword and shield.
It may not be enough to kill the orc. But it was enough to buy Magnus time to get his bearings and stand. He picked up a nearby spear, it's owner no longer needing it. He yelled as he rushed towards the orc and jammed the spear into the beast's chest.
It roared and tried to wrench itself free. The soldier hacked and stabbed as Magnus fought to keep the beast steady. Eventually it ceased long enough to drop his sword. Magnus rolled and retrieved it before bringing it down and severing the beast's head.
He breathed heavily and turned to give his thanks to the soldier that had saved him. But no longer found him by his side. Many of his men were no longer at his side.
He looked about as barely a handful remained. They were beaten and bloody. But they were as determined as he was to finally be at the end. He held up his bloodied blade and looked between it and the next wave of orcs that were rushing towards them.
He gave a rallying cry once more as he and his last men charged the orcs. Time seemed to stop as blades and axes froze mid swing.
I'm sorry, he thought. He should've said goodbye to his wife. He should've told her he loved her one last time. He should've done so much more for the people he cared for.
I'm sorry.
-----
The Duchess walked among the huddled masses as they cried and prayed amongst one another. She had done the same off and on over these past few weeks. The former when she had a moment to herself. The people needed someone to remain strong. Her husband was out defending them, but she was here and they needed to see that she was as strong.
"Perhaps the actuator was faulty?" She heard Dylan murmuring to himself as he scratched and scribbled on a piece of paper, his brother sat nearby watching and would grunt to make sure Dylan knew he was listening. It had been yet another trial to keep him from rushing off again to "help" the troops.
He would get a "flash of inspiration" and would try to dart of to his workshop in the city to build some sort of new contraption that would "turn the tide" as he put it.
But the handful of soldiers that were stationed with them had been quite insistent that they remain here for their own good. Everyone had thoughts of much the same. Prayer and talk of going to their homes to retrieve swords or other family heirlooms and go join the Duke in defending their city.
But their loved ones were quick to dismiss such thoughts and would convince them to remain with them. The Duchess had similar thoughts. Either to pick up a sword and join her husband or to drag him in here where they could hold one another as their deaths neared.
She held back tears at the thought that her husband might be dead already. That they were just waiting for the inevitable call that the gate had been breached. That they would soon die.
A murmur rippled through the Cathedral as a voice sounded from the entrance. Then she heard the words that broke her heart.
"The Duke has fallen! The gate is under siege!"
Cries rose as families joined together in a last embrace. The only soldier they had looked conflicted, even a bit guilty. The Duke had died bravely while they were here guarding people that would surely die anyway.
No-one would fault them for thinking such. Even now some wished to take up arms to avenge the Duke and defend Daele. As the voices and cries reached deafening levels a single clear female voice sang seemingly from the air itself.
The cries and voices all hushed as a wave of calm fell over them. The voice uttered a single word.
Sanctuary.
Then a crack of thunder sounded as the wall behind the alter to the Holy Mother Goddess split open with a radiant golden light. The whole Cathedral stared at the gap with awe and fear.
The Delta Guard that remained and the other soldiers readied their weapons for any possible threat they might face that emerged from the hole. But none came. The Duchess walked forward cautiously. As she neared she could feel something. A chill air blew from the hole.
She knew of few places that would be cold this time of year. But it wasn't a harsh cold like from the mountains or even the biting freeze from the wastes. It felt like their home would during the harvest months when the weather began to grow cold.
She was terrified. But she couldn't show it to her people. She stepped forward and slowly stuck a hand into the hole. There was a slight tingle that pricked her skin. She wasn't sure if it was from the magic or the cold coming from the other side.
She turned to her people with a determined look. Then she stepped into the gap. When nothing happened immediately it was like a spell broke and the masses began to drive towards the hole, their salvation within reach!
She and the Delta Guard who were now HER personal Honor Guard led them through the golden passage. Slowly at first but then faster at the thought of safety being at the end while death waited behind.
-----
A large wooden log with a heavy iron ram was bashed against the gate again and again. The orcs believed it would be easier now that the defenders were gone, but the gate operators were being absolute pests to them. Throwing rocks and oil as well as the occasional arrow.
It wasn't going to stop them. But that didn't matter to the spiteful gatekeepers. Anything to inconvenience or hinder the orcs was enough. As a rock sailed through the air and banged against the iron helmet of a grunt, the One-Eyed appeared with his apprentices.
"What is taking so long?"
A grunt turned to the elder shaman.
"The gate is strong and its taking time to breach."
A rock rained down on the grunt as he spoke.
"And those infernal cowards won't cease their pestering!"
The One-Eyed gazed up at the men atop the portcullis.
"Move your men."
The grunt called his men back from the gate. The gatekeepers cheered and jeered as the orcs retreated. Then the air grew tense and crackled with energy. The One-Eyed murmured in an orcish tongue as his apprentices began to chant. He raised a gnarled finger towards the gate.
As the chanting got louder electricity arced along the ground and through the air. The grunts and soldiers nearby yelped as they were shocked from the currents being drawn.
When the chanting ended the air popped as a bolt of lightning sped from the gnarled finger and into the portcullis. A boom rang out as dust and debris billowed from the aftermath.
The grunts looked on in awe as they saw nothing but ruble where the thick gate once stood. They cheered and yelled as they saw the remains of the pesky gatekeepers amidst the ruble. They surged forwards with battle cries, ignoring the worn and tired form of the One-Eyed. His apprentices helped him stay on his feet as they followed after the tide of greenskins.
As they neared the Cathedral cries rang out from nearby houses and manors as their inhabitants were dragged forth. They were all brought before the One-Eyed as he inspected them. He sighed as he dismissed all that were brought to him. None had what he needed.
Not that the soldiers cared, more slaves to work or to satisfy themselves with. Then the sounds of battle rang out. The One-Eyed ordered his buzzing apprentices to follow after it.
They turned a corner and were met with a brief skirmish in front of the Cathedral. A few humans were fighting fiercely against the many orcs that circled them. One of the Cathedrals mighty wooden doors were cracked open. From his spot the One-Eyed could see a radiant golden light coming from inside.
"Hurry! Deal with them and get inside there!"
The orcs grunted in confirmation and began to make short work of the lowly guards. They broke through the doors and the pitiful barricade they had erected against them. The entryway was empty save for some belongings that seemed to have been left behind.
The orcs rounded the corner, one was met with a arrow to the shoulder as a few guards remained to but the fleeing people time to get all the way through. The One-Eyed turned the corner as the guards were quickly dealt with. He saw a hole in the opposite wall that golden light poured from, and that the citizens of Daele were fleeing into!
"Stop them!" He ordered. Whoever made it must be here somewhere, he thought.
Dylan and his brother were the last ones in the Cathedral other than the guards and now the orcs. His brother grunted and gestured to the orcs as they closed in on them.
"I know! But it has all our plans are on it! I can't leave it for these savages to find!"
The gnome looked about hurriedly for the notebook he had that held all the schematics and ideas he had had over the years. He saw it as the last guard was cut down. He grabbed it just as Alban grabbed the back of his brother's shirt and dragged him back as an axe blade planted itself into the tile where his hand had been moments before!
The orcs roared as the two sped into the crevice. One threw his axe at the two fleeing Artificers. As it reached the boundary of the hole it slammed shut with such force it shook the entire building. Where the gap had been was now solid masonry, and an axe that was seamlessly embedded into the stone as if it had been there all along.
No matter how hard the orc tried to pull it wouldn't budge from its new place. The old One-Eyed shuffled forwards towards the wall. He ran a hand along as he tried to feel what kind of magic had just appeared.
Everyone could sense magic to some degree. But it took someone who was especially talented or trained to know who, or what, had cast the magic and what kind it was.
Draconic was obvious, he thought. The power of the dragons saturated the place now. But he caught a couple of other things that piqued his interest. A bit of the divine was there too. Though that could be because of the holiness of the building. Then there was something else. Like an after taste. Something... other.
"Interesting." The old One-Eyed uttered as he gazed at the spot the chasm was moments before.
"Very interesting."
-----
The Duchess ran towards the light, her people close behind her. As she neared the end she felt a shake come from the other end. She and the others hurried at that sign.
She breathed deeply of the chill air as she reached the end of the passage. She looked around, her Delta Guard did as well. Weary of any signs of danger. But they found none, nothing obvious that is.
Her people began to pour behind her as they too emerged from the passage. Before long the flat land they found themselves in was soo occupied by the remnants of an entire city.
"What is this place?" Someone asked as they all looked around their new environment.
She wished she knew, thought the Duchess. They stood there for many minutes trying to decide what to do. Then a strange thing rumbled as it neared them. It flashed lights of red and blue as it neared the large mass of people.
The Delta Guard readied their tridents as the police car neared. A man dressed in tan clothes stepped out of the vehicle and looked at everyone with a shocked gaze. He shuffled forwards and spoke in a calm voice, though a hand was on his holster.
"Can I help you folks?"
The people all shuffled and murmured as to what to do and who the strange man was. The Duchess strode forwards and dipped a light bow in greeting.
"Greetings sir. I am Duchess Helena of Daele, me and my people are looking for a place called Sanctuary. Are you from there or know where it might be?"
The man scratched his head as he looked at the mass of people.
"Don't know nothin' 'bout no Sanctuary. But Somewhere is just 20 minutes east of here."
The Duchess scrunched up her face in confusion.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Somewhere. That's the name of our town over yonder." The man said as he gestured to the east towards the large mountain range in the distance.
The Duchess wasn't sure what to think, of the man nor the events that just happened. But her people needed food and shelter. So while it might not be called Sanctuary, it would hopefully be one anyway.
She called her people as the deputy drove away in his car back towards town to notify the Sheriff.
"My people! We have had trying times as of late! Now, we have hopefully found salvation! Found Sanctuary!"
The mass migration murmured excitedly and followed after the Duchess as she headed "20 minutes east".