Lord Rick looked to the horizon, as the whole world seemed to slow to a crawl, and watched another turret take the full force of an arcane meteor, lighting it up in a spectacle of red and blue fire, that mixed with the fresh debris into a deep purple haze, and plunging the immediate vicinity into an artificial night. With only a single turret still standing, the day looked far grimmer than it did this morning. Still he went forward, long sword in hand, a veritable legend in its own right, with a lifespan longer than its wielder, who was beginning to forget how many decades he'd been ruling the city, and how many wars he had lived through, even though he himself had never been a tangible part of one until today. But he never granted anyone the knowledge of such.
Castillo surged forward to the front of his formation, a position he was quickly finding to be his favorite, "That's another turret, boys! This day is ours," he bellowed forth, thrusting his blade into the sky in triumph, "This victory is ours for the taking." The lord clenched his empty fist, now prefering it over the heater shield he had dropped a good while back, and pointed over to the new ruin, "Onward to that position, we need to head further up, to the higher walls. Our troops are nothing but targets with those archers raining down on us," he rather calmly explained to both nobody in particular, and the entireity of the formation that followed close behind, who were shuffling rapidly to keep up with the estactic beast that pressed on before them, with every step being a lunge of its own. Lord Castillo suddenly stopped and raised his fist to signal that the rest should do the same, as he witnessed a line of five men marching towards them, evenly spaced to block the ramp that led up to the higher levels. In particular, he eyed the man directly in the middle of the group, with visibly greying hair, and a saggy expression that belayed an unusual mix of determination and absent-mindedness, "The one in the middle is mine, I trust you lot can handle the others."
Lord Matthius the Sixth let loose a feral bellow, as he slammed his mace into the helm of a man attempting to pull himself up a ladder, ushering forth a spray of sparks, and a screaming man from the walls. Matthius raised his boot and planted it on the ladder before giving it a push, causing it to sway back a couple feet before leaning back into the wall, "Damn it, I need a pike or something!" He looked around to see that nobody was listening to him. The only people that were around were currently engaged in a lack of motion on the ground around him, leaving the only movement in the vicinity to consist of a small fire eating a man's cloak, an errent arrow, and an irritated lord. He looked down at the ladder, at a man who was peeking back over his shield, while gripping the ladder with the other hand, just out of reach. Shouts could be heard below asking why nobody was moving, which were left unanswered.
Matthius sighed, "Have I got to do everything myself around here?" He let his mace drop to the brick floor, sending a small puff of sparks from the unique nodules in the flared edges of the mace, specifically designed to create bright flashes of light on impact. They were typically used by performers for dramatic effect, but Matthius liked them because it caused more people to look his way in a fight, as well as succeeding in making him look as arrogant as possible, a trait he took great pride in. He reached down and grabbed a spear out of a person's chest, who didn't bother to thank him, and chucked it over to the top of ladder as the cowardly shield man pushed himself onto the wall and into a crouching pose, before drawing a short sword and pointing it at the red-armoured man. Matthius scoffed lightly and curled his lip at the man before drawing himself up to a mighty stance. With his left hand holding his shield, he pointed his right hand at the enemy. He then pointed a thumb towards himself. He then dramatically punched his own shield, and held the pose, "Do you understand me?"
The swordsman shuffled to the side to allow himself the virtue of reinforcement.
"I'll take that as a 'No'," The lord put his right foot forward, and the first man flinched slightly, while the second steadied his footing. Jorun put his left foot ahead of him, and the first man raised himself up, and aquired a scowl, while the second pulled an axe from his belt loop. The Sixth then lunged his right foot into the ground in front of him and began a wild charge towards the men as a third adversary's head appeared over the side of the wall. The two enemies raised their weapons as Matthius crouched down and stuck his left foot out to slide againt the rock, scooping up the spear with his empty hand and rocketing himself forward before they could bring their weapons down upon him. A heavy, metallic clash burst forth from the red shield off the wall, followed closely by the two objects it collided with. As Matthius swung his shield, and former threats, forward, he thrust the spear into the side of the ladder, causing it to twist to the side before toppling back into the ranks below. He let go of the spear and watched as it all fell slowly before him, admiring his work, as well as trying to quickly count how many people were pointing arrows at him before taking a step back from the wall and picking his mace back up, as well as knocking a few dozen arrows off his shield, "Definitely a 'No'."
Alex stopped in his tracks as a single person stood before him on his way to the lower walls. He raised his dagger before him, and turned his body to the side in a duelling pose he'd seen others use, while eyeing the opposition. The other man had his face partially concealed by the hood of a robe that lay underneath leather armour, and hid it further with holding up a buckler, and drawing a thin rod from a loop in his belt.
"I'll have you know I'm a mage. You don't stand a chance!" The hooded man cried out as he raised the rod, which was almost a dull silver color.
Alex tried to think of something witty to say in kind, but found himself to less than an eloquent type in far less stressful situations, let alone being threatened by a force of magic. Or at least a practitioner of one. He swallowed lightly and strode forward, keeping his stance.
"I'm warning you! I could destroy you in an instant!"
At that, Alex stopped, "Then why aren't you?"
"What?"
"If you can destroy me, why haven't you? You're threatening me, but you don't look very magical to me."
The other man lowered his buckler slightly, giving a sideways glance to some passing embers that hadn't quite decided where to land, "Well, could a mundane do this?" He slammed the rod into his buckler, and a bright flash of light blinded Alex, causing him to step back instictively and shield his eyes with his free hand, but still keeping watch on the figure. After a brief moment, the light returned to normal, and the buckler was wreathed in a chaotic, blue flame. He stood there, unsure of what it was, before quickly realizing that nothing further seemed to be happening.
"Was that it?"
The hooded figured opened his mouth, and stopped. He closed it again, and looked down at the minature inferno in his hands before resuming the attempt to speak, "Um, yes?"
Alex shifted his glance to the side, then focused again on the magician. It didn't make sense. If he was some sort of battle mage, clearly he'd be more destructive, or at least impressive, than this. But this was someone who seemed to be almost as incompetant about the situation as Alex was, and then it dawned on him, "You were part of a catapult crew, weren't you?"
The figure eased his stance slightly, and straightened his back, "Ok, I'll admit it, I'm an enchanter. I only know one spell, and I have to use a scroll to make any use of it. But at least it's a useful spell, and-" the enchanter stopped talking suddenly, as if remembering something important, then quickly swore and threw the buckler to the side, before it exploded in a shower of embers and splinters, "Forgot about that."
Alex and the enchanter stood silently for a moment, watching the pieces fall still, oddly quiet in the midst of a raging battle.
"I'm Gelid, by the way."
"What?"
"My name. Gelid. Technically, I'm not supposed to even be here, but my catapult got hit by a ballista bolt so they ordered me up here. After that, the other catapults started getting taken out, and-"
"Wait, you were with the first one that got hit?"
The enchanter stopped for a second, and confirmed the question, before Alex let out a small laugh, "I was the one that took out your catapult."
"Really?"
"Well, actually I'm just the spotter and the guy who reloads the thing, but yeah, we took you down. The guy who actually fired it is unconscience, because our tower got hit, so..."
They stood silent for another awkward second before Gelid spoke up, "Guess we're in the same boat, then?"
"I guess so."
Lord Castillo slowed his charge to what seemed like a crawl in comparrison. His men were already engaged with the men of his adversary, leaving the two of them more or less alone on the battlements.
"Well, if it isn't the lord in charge of this city."
"I know who you are, and why you've come. You won't control this city, even if I'm six feet in the sandy grounds it lay on."
Castillo scoffed at that, "It's a shame, really. King Adaji in control now. His great-grandfather wasn't even from these lands, they came from the glaciers up north, across the sea."
"Everybody knows that."
"Yes, they do. But not everybody knows who it was that ruled these lands before he arrived. The people who rightfully deserve to reign over this region. Isn't that right," he smirked, "Prince Rick."
Lord Rick laughed openly at that, "Funny. Although despite your attempt to talk me down, or win me over, or whatever is your intention, I know something you don't."
"Really? And what's that?"
Rick righted himself to his full height, "I know I'm not supposed to be on the throne. Because if I was, I wouldn't be here to kill you now."
"That's a good one, Prince," Castillo stopped and chuckled, "I'll be sure you're buried seven feet deep."