“They’re fuckin everywhere.” Tadgh grumbled as he rammed into another Partholón struggling to haul himself onto the wall. He wasn’t lying. The fighting was intense. Dagda spun swinging as two men already upon the ramparts charged. Slicing through the first he used the momentum of his swing to nimbly step off the wall propelling himself into the second. Dagda had to dodge once more as Shalla, a fellow 1st gen and one he’d oft drank and trained with staggered and fell limply clutching the Milesian crossbolts jutting out of her stomach.
Underneath the Walls the Men had begun erecting hasty defensive covers allowing the deadly bolts of the Milesians to pave an opening for their climbers to exploit. Preoccupied by the battle on the walls there was precious little time to attempt to dismantle their screens down below so each Druaidii was left to protect themselves as best as they could.
Yet another ladder landed beside Dagda slamming into the wall, within seconds there were soldiers clambering up its steps swords in hand ready to attack. Dagda paused a moment allowing the ladder to be laden with bodies before he summoned fire. With one wave of his hand a fiery stream engulfed both men and ladder. The first man bore the brunt of the flame, Dagda met his gaze as he and the ladder fell to pieces, his once blue eyes transformed to a vivid red, screaming in pain and agony as the flames washed over him.
The familiar sound of Michaél’s ash wrought iron horn rang out in the frenzied bloody air. EEEEEEEEaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeee. EEEEEEEEaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeee. EEEEEEEEaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeee.
A call for help. Unsurprisingly Ardgal and Michaél had taken charge of the Castle Walls right where the fighting was fiercest atop the Gatehouse. For supposed wise old heads they seemed rather too eager to place themselves into the position of most danger. If they had had their way likely they’d of had just the two of them keeping the men at bay.
If they were sounding for help, then they must be heavily pushed indeed. Dagda looked to Tadhg and Cormac but didn’t even have to speak the words. Tadhg waved him off dismissively as he turned to impale a Partholóns man, lifting him clean into the air before launching himself at two completely stunned Milesians. Cormac was busy fighting off two legionnaires himself but used wind Omen to fling his attackers over the wall and crashing back down to earth, turning to Dagda he shouted, “Go, we’ve got here covered for now. They can’t be overrun.”
Dagda nodded and bounded away bursting through the Gatehouse, he had to skip nimbly to avoid yet another cauldron of boiling pitch being prepared to pour onto the Partholón axemen gamely hammering at the Great Door. Making his way onto the Wall guarded by Michaél and Ardgal and a few others the distress signal had certainly not been for nothing. Everywhere intense fighting was taking place as the men threatened to completely gain a foothold on the Wall, dragging ever more men up with them. A group of six Milesians had formed up and were fiercely guarding and surrounding ladders offering a safe route up for those waiting down below.
A sudden icy explosion pointed Dagda to Michaél and Ardgal vainly battling on from the opposite end to where he stood. All around him lay Druaidíi bodies, many burned and charred. BOMBs. Dagda turned to face the six.
“Tintreach”
The lightning rocketed forth crashing into the legionnaires shields, which worked to only heighten rather than block the lightnings effect. The six smouldered where they stood, Dagda lunged as the next soldier clambered over the edge cutting his head clean off, his sword flaying helplessly before him. Summoning wind he sent men and ladder both flying backwards. Dagda turned to face the next charging Milesian but the man’s progress was halted abruptly by a lann ciorcail to his head, spun so forcibly it embedded itself into his helmet. From behind appeared Michaél with Argdal, Ardgal used his own wind Omen to fling down three more charging Partholóns, giving them a brief moment of respite. Michaél spoke first, “Bloody Firebombs, we were holding our own just fine til a group of Milesians got up here, they had the damn things strapped to their bodies, whenever they were struck down their last action before death was igniting them.That’s what done in most the others up here.”
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A boulder crashed into the space just beside them, Dagda had to leap and roll to his right to avoid it as they crouched down in shock.
From the smoke and ash the sound of Partholón drums beating anew alerted them to the men’s encampment and the source of the missile became clear. As the men parted Dagda’s breath held to see an convoy of siege machines emerge from out of Belvoir’s embrace. There had been no mention of siege machines in any of the scouts reports that had been presented, evidently the men had been busy in their time apart for now they had the means to destroy without ever breaching the walls. Dagda’s eyes were drawn immediately to the men’s centre as rolling menacingly forward came a battering Ram.
Crude and rawly built, the epitome of the Grand Milesian Empire it was not. Though the quality of its appearance was not the concern, the capability to take down the Great Doors was. Hastily built or not it looked no less threatening as it began its approach, whatever about the others of the siege machines the Ram could not be allowed get close, if the Gate fell then all was doomed.
Dagda looked to the two men he most admired, “Omen is the only choice we have, we must bring it down. Give me cover and I swear I will do so.”
Ardgal placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, “No, Dagda, no one Druaidíi’s Omen will be enough to bring it down. We’d need far more than we can afford to spare. Order the Scytheta, all of them, we’ll weaken and puncture it enough so that by the time they reach the Great Door all that will remain will be to have it finished off.”
Ardgal stared him down before he could respond. “Now is not the time, we need you strong. Use your strength with wisdom not pride.”
All three of them were forced upright as the men renewed their efforts to overrun the wall. Dagda parried an onrushers frantic attacks before viciously responding with his own driving the man to the wall and ramming his blade deep into the man’s stomach. Using the man as cover Dagda directed his focus to an area of ground below containing two siege ladders. Summoning the earth Dagda strained to uproot both pushing until he felt the ground lifting to swallow up the ladders and send them sinking into the ground below.
Ardgal’s voice boomed impossibly loud across the walls as if inside Dagda’s ear, “TO THE Scytheta, THE BATTERING RAM, BRING IT DOWN, BREAK ITS ROOF, CAVE IT IN.”
His orders were interrupted by an onslaught of Milesian crossbolts, his orders left aside as he struggled to find cover.
To Dagda’s left stood what was left of the nearest Scytheta, it lay abandoned now, a broken shell still aflame. Further along the wall Dagda looked on as the first of the Druaidíi’s bolts was set loose on the Battering Ram.
The bolt crashed onto the Rams’ roof, even managing to penetrate its outer shield, however as it was reeled back in the size of the chink it had made was far less than significant. To make its escort vulnerable they would need to pierce its armour a great deal more. Most of the Scytheta currently firing were coming from the walls right, no doubt they would be under heavy attack, both Michaél and Ardgal were preoccupied by their own attackers but seemed to have regained control of their portion. Dagda decided he was needed more back with Tadhg and Cormac, vaulting over fragments of the wall and bodies alike he rushed headfirst back swiftly dismissing any in his path. The Scytheta were designed to be fired by two people but as Dagda burst through the tower house door he saw Cormac manning one single handedly. His face twisted in concentration and sweat pouring off his face, he stood aside the machine manning it without aid. Tadhg stood guard, the Battle rage was within him and his claíomh whistled through air and man, the only interruption the short bursts of ice Omen as they struck his victims. The Battering Ram was making its way over the broken ground ever creeping closer to the city walls. Dagda raced past his friends, words of encouragement could come later. He needed to get to the other scytheta, now inactive someone was needed to work it once more. He needed to bring the Ram down, the Druaidíi needed him to.