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Tales from Tabletop
Session 10.2: Battle for the Hollow

Session 10.2: Battle for the Hollow

Chapter II: Stand at the Wall

Preparations were swift, and the people rallied. Soon, Argent and the others were sent to their posts. Argent, surprised to find a past comrade in arms, requested to stand by the Garrison of the Wall with their Captain.

Men from the Garrison were already rushing about when he arrived. Some were heading to their posts, while others were double checking fortifications, in particular the upgrades they had made to the gate. Where iron bars once rested, now only a thick sheet of dwarven steel stood in its place. It was decided by the Council that it would be best to shore up the only weaknesses in the wall. Hopefully, that would force any attack from land to come over the wall, where the opposition would be the strongest.

As Argent passed by, many turned to gawk once they noticed him.

Argent paid it no mind, he expected as much when he decided to leave behind his travelling clothes to reveal the armour beneath. Though much of it remained hidden by his travelling cloak, the armour’s ethereal nature was sure to draw stares. It was not often he wore it proudly, but this day required he stand by those he would one day call brothers-in-arms.

I will let them know they stand side by side with me. Hopefully, it might act as a boost to morale, even if they know not the stories.

The armour of his people was always a sight to behold. Blue silver gleamed like moonlight. Though sturdy, it was remarkably thin, clinging to his body as though a second skin. Upon the shoulder was his own mark of craftsmanship: a black moon with shining runes upon it, and two white, vertical cuts slashed through it.

All in all, he knew it to be an impressive sight, one that had stunned kings and left experienced soldiers in awe. Many here on the Wall were quite green, and would have stood gobsmacked if not called away by other duties.

If Selene were here, I imagine she would gawk as well. Probably say something about how it looks like something out of one of her stories.

A smile played at his lips, but he pushed the emotion aside. He was here for war.

He reached the top of the staircase, finding countless men running about and preparing munitions or other stores to use in a siege. Smoke from nearby bonfires were swirled through the air by a faint breeze.

Karsich Braigh, Captain of the Wall, stood by the battlements, attempting to peer through the haze toward the city beyond.

For now, all was still calm.

As with the other troops here, he already stood dressed for war. His plate was of a finer quality than most, however, and bore the mark of the dwarves. Due to their unique refining methods, it appeared more a gemstone hewn from mountain rock than normal steel. Sharing an appearance akin to polished topaz, it was only blemished by the scars of war. Scars that were worn with pride by its owner. A massive hammer was slung over his shoulder, it was well maintained, but a sharp eye could see that it, too, bore the marks of past battles. Both were well tested and trusted allies for a veteran such as Braigh.

Not many are gifted arms so fine as that… Argent thought, studying the fine artisanship of the dwarven armour. A good thing, too. Otherwise I might not have recognized him.

Argent approached the dwarf, “It appears we fight together once more, old friend.”

“Aye, brother,” he said gruffly, eyeing the horizon. “A pity the circumstances are so grim.”

Argent shrugged, “When are they not? Last time we fought together, I believe we were outnumbered three to one.”

Braigh’s facade broke for a moment as he let out a hearty chuckle, “Aye, but I was far too drunk to notice. Ebna won’t let me have a drop today. Says I’m too old to be drinking before a battle.”

“She’s not wrong,” Bastion called out from atop the top of the staircase, “Most of us get worried when we see our commanders drink in excess.”

“Bastion!” Braigh said, his stern expression returning, “Report. Any news or signs of change from our scouts?”

Bastion, grinning but a moment before, swiftly straightened his back and spoke in a professional tone, “No sir. It appears they still have not returned.”

“That’s what I feared,” Braigh sighed, turning back to the view of the horizon, “This damned Lendrig wants us blind before he strikes.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“So what should we do, sir?” Bastion asked, “Do we leave those men to die?”

“No, they’re already dead,” Braigh said, eyes downcast, “We have no time for ceremony, but mark them as the first among the dead of our Brothers on the Wall in this battle. I suspect they will be the first among many. The rest of us must return to our posts and—”

“Wait,” Argent said, cutting Braigh short, “Do you hear that?”

Both Bastion and Braigh held their tongues, motioning for men around them to do the same. Once quiet, all listened intently.

The faintest sound echoed throughout the ancient ruins, approaching from a great distance.

“Marching?” one of the soldiers whispered nearby.

Argent shook his head, “No, it’s something else.”

A thousand battles over millennia or more, Argent knew the sound of marching well. Well enough that he could often determine the size of the force or even the formations they might have used.

This sound was not like any sound Argent heard before battle, but it was one he recognized.

It was the sound of crashing water.

In the distance, a flood of water could be seen, surging towards the gate.

Many were gobsmacked by this revelation, but Argent remained unfazed. “Karsich, can the walls hold?”

Karsich appeared equally unfazed, studying the approaching flood as he stroked his beard in thought, “They should, plus we added hardened steel to the gates, so I don’t believe it will have an easy time flooding the whole place either.”

Argent nodded, confirming his suspicion, “Then this is not the full assault…Lendrig must have more up his sleeve.”

The waters sped through the streets unchallenged. From their vantage on the top of the wall, they could tell the waves were near tall enough to cover the lowest rooftops.

A wave this size, even if it failed to break the wall, would be enough to shake its foundations.

“EVERYONE BRACE YOURSELVES!” Bastion cried out, as he gripped the wall tightly.

Like the oncoming tide against a stone, the wave met the wall with a violent crash. The wall shook as the water was rebuffed, shooting up high into the air. Many were soaked by the spray, but none were worse for wear.

Silence, save the lapping sounds of water against the wall, soon followed. Peering over, Argent was surprised to find it resting a few feet below the parapet. The water was dark, too dark to see beneath the surface.

Yet…he could sense something beneath, rising to meet them.

Tendrils rose from the murk, Argent recognized them immediately as the same ones he fought in the throne room. Before anyone could respond or prepare, they lashed out. Sweeping across the top, they sent countless men over the edge to meet the hard ground behind them.

Dozens more were snatched, pulled into the briny depths before them. None would ever rise above the surface again.

Argent grabbed the men nearest to him and pulled them down before they, too, were either pulled to the depths or cast to the ground below.

We can’t fight like this. Argent thought, gritting his teeth.

It was then that the cry of a great owl rang above the clamour.

Looking up, Argent saw a flash of snow white wings. As befitting the winged predator, she held her wings close to her body as she dove toward the world below.

Even from this distance, Argent could see the ice beginning to form around her wings as she plummeted to the ground at breakneck speeds. Before she hit the water or the tendrils could react, she pulled out of the dive. Frost flew from each flap of her wings above them, freezing the waters and tendrils within. The tendrils writhed as they froze solid, freezing in various poses of duress.

Ari did not stop, and Argent could see her continue along the distance of the wall.

Seeing the tide turn in their favour, the remaining warriors rose up and cheered at the great white owl as she crafted an icy barrier between the wall and the waters.

“Thank you, Ari,” Argent whispered as she faded from his view. You just gave us a fighting chance. For now.

Captain Braigh eyed Argent and knew this was not the end, but the reprieve provided an opportunity to rally the troops. He rose up to his feet, then spoke in a booming voice. It echoed above the din of celebration. As the men around them heard him speak, they fell silent, turning to face him.

“MEN, BROTHERS, WARRIORS OF THE WALL. MY PEOPLE BELIEVE THAT A PEOPLE ARE BORN FROM SWEAT AND SOIL. TO BUILD YOUR HOME IS TO BUILD YOUR PEOPLE. I BUILT THIS WALL WITH YOUR BRETHREN AND FOREBEARS. WE CARVED ROCK AND MOULDED STEEL. BY THE VEINS AND SOIL OF THE EARTH, WE ARE UNITED.

“NOW, THE THING WE FEAR THE MOST HAS HAPPENED. OUR PEOPLE NOW STAND ON THE BRINK, BUT WE HAVE BEEN GIVEN A FIGHTING CHANCE, AS WE ARE JOINED BY WARRIORS OF LEGEND AND STRENGTHENED BY THE FIRES OF THE SPIRIT. THIS ATTACK WAS NOT THE LAST, MORE WILL COME. BUT WILL WE YIELD?”

The soldiers around them screamed, “NO SIR!”

Braigh nodded, a wry grin on his face before he bellowed back, “THEN KNOW THIS. IT IS NOW TIME WE STAND TOGETHER. SONGS WILL BE SUNG OF THIS DAY BY OUR CHILDREN AND OUR CHILDREN’S CHILDREN. FOR THEIR SAKE, AND FOR THE SAKE OF OUR HOME AND OUR LOVED ONES. STAND WITH ME BROTHERS, THAT OUR BULWARK MIGHT STAND IMMORTAL, BOTH NOW AND FOREVERMORE!”

The clamour of shields and battle cries could be heard across the wall. Whether they heard the speech or not, all stood together as one, ready to face the threat.

Argent joined in the cry. I just hope I still deserve such a title as legend, old friend.

As the din died down, Braigh turned to Argent, chuckling softly. “Gotta say, your friend ain’t ever disappoint. Never seen magic quite like hers, before or since.”

“Yeah, she’s one of a kind,” Argent said, a slight smile playing on his lips.

A moment later, the water past the frozen tendrils began to bubble. Argent’s hand reached for his longsword, but decided against it.

No, I’ll save that for later. When things are looking far more dire, he reasoned, drawing his two shortswords instead.

We have not yet seen all this Magus has waiting for us, and it may be what saves us all.