*The year is 86 ACC*
Bartoli Adams sprints through the city streets. Heavy boots pound the cobblestones behind him. He glances back: a squad of armored knights, muskets ready.
Above, airships float like predatory birds. They drop bombs and unleash magical bolts. Explosions. Shouts. The city burns.
Bartoli ducks into an alley. The knights skid to a halt and reload. He’s breathing hard, chest on fire—a quick look around—no exit.
A roar. He peeks out. A phalanx of knights in the county colors rushes the street, clashing with his pursuers. Steel on steel. Gunshots.
He runs deeper into the alley. A bomb whistles down and lands with a deafening CRACK. Walls shake. He stumbles and catches himself. Bartoli breathes heavily in the alley, desperate to get home to his grandmother, his only living family, to make sure she is safe and evacuated. He peaks his head out of the alley and sees the fighting from the soldiers. Screams. He can see the main street now, bodies strewn like broken toys. Smoke and rubble. A child wails for her mother.
Bartoli pauses, torn. He shakes his head. Then he’s moving again, faster, desperate, pulls open the nearby sewage drain, and climbs down. Bartoli, his heart pounding, sprints towards his home, his mind focused on avoiding the giant rats that inhabit the drains. He pushes past the stench of sewage and the deafening sounds of bombs.
After running for some time in the sewage drains, Bartoli stops at a ladder. He climbs up the ladder and arrives in his neighborhood. It is wrecked with the destruction of houses all around. There was no one around him. He panics and runs toward his home. Bartoli's house is destroyed. He rushes into the collapsing structure, ignores the damaged home, and shouts for his grandmother. His grandmother returns the shouts from the basement. He runs toward the basement door, which was destroyed in the attack, and broken stones now block his passage.
More of his home collapses as Bartoli digs with his hands, rocks scraping his skin raw. His face is a mess of tears and fear.
"Nonna!" he shouts. No answer. He digs faster, frantic. His hands are bloody now, nails cracked. The sound of distant explosions mixes with the crunch of stone.
He clears the wreckage and stumbles into the basement. His grandmother is huddled in the corner, eyes wide, clutching a shawl. She doesn't move.
"Nonna," Bartoli gasps. She runs to him, arms out. They collide in a desperate hug.
"Bartoli," she sobs. "I thought—"
"No time," he cuts her off, pulling away. "We have to go."
He takes her hand and leads her up the broken stairs. The house groans, ready to collapse. They emerge into the street, now a war zone. Smoke billows, gunfire cracks.
"Where?" his grandmother asks, voice trembling.
Bartoli scans the chaos. Soldiers, rubble, fleeing civilians. He sets his jaw.
"To the river," he says. "Come on."
They run.
***
Commander Harimanna Teufel grips the rail of the Mangla's deck, her knuckles white. The floating warship lurches as another magical bomb discharges with a deafening thoom, the shockwave rattling the hull. Below, the city of Rask burns, a patchwork of flames and smoke.
"We didn't anticipate this level of resistance," Captain Atif Bluth shouts over the wind. He stands rigid beside Teufel, his gaunt face set in a hard line. "The guilds have fortified every quarter. Our ground troops are stalled."
Teufel's eyes are ice. "Stalled or defeated?"
Bluth hesitates. "Stalled, for now. But the casualty rate is higher than projected. We need more time to—"
Another thoom is closer this time. The deck sways, and Teufel steadies herself against the rail. She surveys the carnage below, the pinpoint explosions of the magical ordinance, the tiny figures of soldiers skirmishing in the streets. Her lips press into a thin line.
"Time is something we don't have, Captain. The Council expects results."
Bluth opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. A moment of silence, save for the howl of the wind and the distant, rhythmic thoom of the Mangla's bombardment.
"We can increase the bombardment," Bluth says finally. "Level the districts where resistance is strongest. It will buy our forces the time they need."
Teufel turns to him, her gaze piercing. "And the civilians?"
Bluth shrugs a quick, nervous motion. "Collateral."
Teufel holds his eyes for a long moment. Then, she releases the rail and walks toward the command cabin.
"Do it," she says over her shoulder. "And pray the Council sees it that way."
Bluth stays behind, watching as Teufel disappears into the cabin. His shoulders slump, and he rubs his temples with one hand. Then he turns to the nearest crewman and barks an order.
The Mangla tilts as it comes about, its broadside now facing the heart of the city. A series of hatches along the hull clank open, and a sinister blue glow fills the air. The wind carries the scent of ozone and burning wood.
Thoom. Thoom. Thoom.
The city of Rask disintegrates in slow motion, a cascade of rubble and flame.
***
Count Abner Lancaster points his sword at the throat of the Helical Guildmaster, Seventh Horn.
Abner's eyes blaze with fury as he shouts, "Liar!" His voice drips with venom, and his hand clenches around his sword, ready to strike. "Confess the truth, or I will make you pay with your life." The air is thick with tension as Abner stands, seething with anger and betrayal.
Horn is calm. Relaxed. They simply smile.
Abner’s blade glows deep red, enchanted by his fire magic. Explosions from the battle raging outside light up the palace window in bursts.
Abner tightens his grip.
Horn chuckles a low, throaty sound that grates on Abner's nerves. "You won't kill me, Count. You need me."
Abner's sword trembles, the red glow intensifying. Sweat beads on his forehead. "I need answers. Where is the Helix?"
Another explosion rocks the palace—dust rains from the ceiling. Horn's eyes flick to the window, then back to Abner. Their smile widens.
"The Helix is everywhere, Count. And nowhere."
Abner snarls, pressing the blade closer. A thin line of blood appears on Horn's neck. "No more riddles!"
Horn doesn't flinch. "Very well. The Helix is—"
A loud crack splits the air. The window shatters, spraying glass. Abner instinctively ducks, sword wavering.
Horn moves like lightning. Their hand shoots out and grabs Abner's wrist. There's a flash of blue light and a sizzling sound.
Abner screams. The sword clatters to the floor. His hand is blackened, smoking. Abner kicks Horn. Hard. They fall to the ground. Hard.
Horn stands, brushing off their robes. "As I was saying, Count. The Helix is power. And power," They flex their fingers, blue energy crackling between them, "is not easily contained."
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Abner cradles his ruined hand, teeth gritted in pain. "You... you are..."
"A liar?" Horn finishes. They step closer, looming over Abner. "Perhaps. But I'm also the only one who can stop this war." They gesture to the chaos outside. "The question is, Count Abner Lancaster, are you willing to listen?"
Abner looks up, eyes wide with fear and realization. The room fills with the acrid smell of burning flesh and ozone. In the distance, the thoom of magical bombs continues unabated.
"Well, Count?" the Guildmaster says softly. "What will it be? Your pride or your city?"
Abner's jaw clenches.
"Speak," he spits.
Horn straightens, rubbing their neck. "The Helical Guild has ways of... redirecting the flow of battle. For a price."
"Name it.”
Horn's eyes glitter. "Your firstborn child."
Silence, broken only by distant explosions. Abner's face contorts.
"You can't be serious."
"Oh, but I am." Horn's smile is gone now, replaced by cold calculation. "Magic demands sacrifice, Count. Are you willing to make it?"
"I... I have no choice, do I?"
Horn nods. "Then we have an accord."
They stride to the window and raise their arms—the air crackles with energy.
Abner watches, hollow-eyed, as his city is ‘saved’ —and his future is lost.
***
Commander Harimanna Teufel sprints toward the deck of Mangla. The crew flinches as she kicks open the door. A giant, floating 3D rune in the shape of a helix hovers outside the ship. Teufel curses, "Fuck!”
“ Bluth!" she yells. "Order the troops to retreat. Now."
Captain Atif Bluth hesitates. " Commander, we—"
"We've failed. It's too late. We can only run."
A tear in space rips open. Giant flying octopuses pour out, dropping monsters as they head for Teufel's fleet. Alarms blare. The crew scrambles.
"Retreat at full speed!" Teufel commands.
The ships lurch, engines roaring. The octopuses close in, their monstrous cargo plummeting toward the decks. The fleet speeds away, but the creatures gain ground.
Teufel grips the railing, eyes locked on the helix rune. She knows it's over. Her knuckles whiten as she grips the rail. The Mangla shudders, magical engines straining. Behind them, the sky writhes with tentacles.
"Faster!" she barks. Bluth relays the order, his voice cracking.
A wet thud. Screams erupt from the stern. Teufel whirls to see a writhing mass of limbs and teeth already tearing into the crew.
"Repel boarders!" she shouts, drawing her sidearm. The pistol hums with stored energy.
More thuds. More screams. The deck tilts as something massive latches onto the hull.
Teufel fires. A bolt of crackling energy lances out, vaporizing a chunk of writhing flesh. The creature shrieks, but more pour in to replace it.
"We're overrun!" Bluth yells. "We need to—"
His words cut off in a gurgle as a tentacle wraps around his throat. Teufel watches in horror as he's yanked over the railing, disappearing into the chaos below.
She turns to run but stumbles as the ship lurches again. A tentacle slams into her back, pinning her to the deck. She struggles, gasping for air.
The last thing Commander Harimanna Teufel sees is a maw of razor-sharp teeth descending toward her face.
Then darkness.
***
On the ground, Bartoli and his grandmother stumble through the chaos. Bodies litter the streets. Buildings crumble. The air is thick with smoke and screams.
"We're almost there," Bartoli pants. "Just a little further."
His grandmother wheezes, struggling to keep up. Bartoli half-drags her along.
A roar from above. They look up to see octopuses swarming the airships. Monsters rain down on the city.
"Madre di Dio," his grandmother gasps.
Bartoli pulls her into an alley. They crouch behind a dumpster, hearts pounding.
A creature lands nearby with a wet *splat*. It's like nothing Bartoli has ever seen—all teeth and claws and writhing tentacles. It sniffs the air, turning toward their hiding spot.
Bartoli holds his breath. His grandmother trembles beside him.
The monster takes a step closer. Then another. The creature's shadow looms.
A piercing shriek. The monster whirls. Down the street, a woman flees, dragging a child. The beast bounds after them.
Bartoli exhales. His grandmother circles herself, muttering a prayer.
"We have to move," he whispers. "Now."
They emerge from the alley. Fires rage. Bodies everywhere. In the distance, more creatures prowl.
Bartoli and his grandmother creep along the shattered street, hugging the shadows of crumbling buildings—the air reeks of smoke and blood. Distant screams punctuate the ominous silence.
They round a corner. The river glimmers ahead, a silver ribbon in the chaos. Hope flares in Bartoli's chest.
"Almost there, Nonna," he whispers. "Just a little—"
A guttural growl freezes them in place. Bartoli turns, slow and terrified.
The monster looms, a mass of writhing tentacles and gnashing teeth. Its eyes—too many eyes—lock onto them. Saliva drips from razor fangs.
Bartoli pushes his grandmother behind him. "Run," he hisses. "I'll distract it."
"No, I won't leave—"
The creature pounces. Bartoli dives, rolling across broken glass and debris. Pain lances through him. He scrambles up and snatches a jagged metal pipe.
The monster whirls, tentacles lashing. One catches Bartoli's leg, yanking him off his feet. He slams into the ground, pipe clattering away.
His grandmother shrieks. She hobbles forward, swinging her cane. It connects with a meaty thwack—the monster roars.
Tentacles wrap around her frail body. Bones crack. She screams, then goes limp.
"Nonna!" Bartoli wails. He claws at the ground, desperate to reach her.
The creature's maw gapes wide. It lifts his grandmother's broken form.
Bartoli lunges for the pipe. His fingers close around it. He swings with all his might.
Too late.
Teeth rend flesh. Blood sprays. His grandmother disappears down the monster's gullet.
Bartoli screams, a sound of pure anguish. He hacks at the creature, pipe rising and falling. Gore splatters. The monster shrieks.
A tentacle catches him across the chest. Ribs shatter. He flies back and slams into a wall. The world spins.
Through blurring vision, he sees the monster's approach. Its maw yawns open, reeking of death.
Bartoli closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, Nonna," he cries.
Teeth pierce flesh. Bones crunch.
In an instant, Bartoli Adams is gone, swallowed by the horror that devoured his city.
The monster lumbers away, leaving only blood and silence in its wake.
***
Operation Rask Reclamation: Pre-Invasion Assessment:
Commander Harimanna Teufel, Council of Magic Naval Forces
Date: 18/10/0085
To: High Council of Magic
CC: Captain Atif Bluth, Mangla's Deck
* Overview
Operation Rask Reclamation will commence at dawn on Eesk 8th, 86 ACC. Our objective is to neutralize the growing threat posed by the Guilds of Unbound Sorcery on Amir Island, with a specific focus on securing the city of Rask. This report outlines our strategic assessment, potential challenges, and recommended course of action.
* Intelligence Summary
* Enemy Forces:
* Estimated 500-700 combat-capable sorcerers affiliated with various Guilds
* Unknown number of civilians potentially hostile to our cause
* Possible magical creatures or constructs at their disposal
* Key Targets:
* Helical Guild Headquarters (Priority Alpha)
* House Lancaster's Caster Citadel
* Guild training facilities and research centers
* Defensive Capabilities:
* Advanced magical wards and barriers around the city
* Potential for summoned creatures or enchanted defenses
* Guerrilla-style resistance is likely in urban areas
* Our Forces
* Naval Assets:
* 1 Command Vessel (Mangla)
* 5 Heavy Assault Airships
* 12 Support Skiffs
* Ground Forces:
* 1,000 Council Knights (magic-enhanced infantry)
* 200 Aether Mages for magical support and countermeasures
* 50 Siege Golems for heavy assault
* Magical Ordnance:
* 500 Arcane Bombs
* 200 Ward-Breaker Missiles
* 100 Nullification Fields
* Battle Strategy
* Phase 1: Ward Breaking
* Commence bombardment of the city's magical defenses using Ward-Breaker Missiles.
* Deploy Aether Mages to create access points in the defensive barrier.
* Phase 2: Initial Assault
* Once wards are breached, launch an airborne assault on key Guild locations
* Deploy Siege Golems to create entry points for ground forces
* Phase 3: Ground Invasion
* Council Knights to secure strategic points throughout the city
* Aether Mages to provide magical support and counter enemy sorcery
* Phase 4: Secure and Contain
* Apprehend Guild leaders and high-value targets
* Secure magical artifacts and research materials
* Establish Council control over city infrastructure
* Potential Challenges
* Civilian Casualties:
* High risk due to urban environment and potential use of civilians as shields by Guilds
* Recommendation: Utilize precision strikes and Nullification Fields to minimize collateral damage
* Unknown Magical Threats:
* Guilds may possess powerful, experimental magic unknown to our intelligence.
* Recommendation: Maintain flexible strategy and prioritize adaptability in our forces
* Political Fallout:
* Invasion may strain relations with neutral territories
* Recommendation: Prepare a comprehensive media strategy to justify our actions
Conclusion
The invasion of Rask represents a critical juncture in our ongoing efforts to maintain stability and control over magical forces in Atherton. While the operation carries significant risks, the threat posed by unchecked Guild activity necessitates decisive action.
I have complete confidence in our forces' ability to execute this mission successfully. However, we must remain vigilant and adaptable in the face of unbound magic's unpredictable nature.
May the wisdom of the Council guide us in this crucial endeavor.
Respectfully submitted,
Commander Harimanna Teufel