[Mkguild] A little preview - Last Stand

[christian okane]

   Ok. It's late at night and my brain is working in odd mode. I have an odd
fascination with the fall of Maractania set in Cr150. It's ancient history
in Metamor Keep terms but its fall still effects the valley 550+ years
later. You can read that story on the archive here
http://metamorkeep.com/story/The_Fall_of_Maractania.php .

 

  I am writing a large story set during the fall of Metamor Valley to the
Lutin invasion in cr150. Below is a small, unfinished scene in it. The
Lutins have breached the wall around the city of Camulodunum. There is no
escape and they know the city's fall is only minutes away. 

 

    It brings to mind an odd thought. How would your characters respond if
caught in a last stand and could not escape? How would you respond?

 

 

   Anyway - here is the scene - I call it simply   'Twenty'

 

 

  The city moat, deep and wide had stopped a dozen other attacked over the
centuries was only a momentary delay. Lutins rushed forward tossing timber,
rocks and earth into it. Arrows, spears and javelins from the wall and
towers took their toll but it did not slow down the attack. Soon the moat
was nothing more than a shallow depression that the attackers raced across.

 

   A giant as tall as a tower lumbered forward tossing boulders that
weighted a ton a piece. The massive rocks smashed walls and towers sending
rocks and debris tumbling to the ground. 

 

   A ballista on the roof of one of the gate towers sent a javelin five feet
long and as thick as a human arm into the giant's chest. The monster
stumbled backward and vanished from sight. But two more giants stepped
forward. And the first boulder they tossed smashed the tower and its massive
siege engine.

 

   They smashed away at the wall with massive hammers and mauls ignore the
arrows and spears that reigned down. The dead and wounded were ignore and
soon with a deep rumble a section of wall collapsed creating a breach wide
enough for a pair of wagons to roll through side by side. Lutins poured
through the breach in a solid mass.

 

   "They've breached the walls," the officer announced. "We can't stop them
here. Fall back on the Argunta Comandio. It's walls are strong enough to
hold them off."

 

   "NO!" The paladin had a shield in his left hand. One of the large
rectangular ones the legion was famous for. "We can't fall back there. We
have to hold the breach."

 

   In the breach pandemonium reigned. Screaming and shouting hammered at
their ears as the smoke and flaming debris filled the air making hard to see
far. Everywhere people were fighting and struggling. Edmund with a dozen
legionnaires behind him charged out of the smoke. "HOLD THE BREACH!" The
paladin shouted and waved his sword overhead. Then he charged straight into
the chaos.

 

   The archer stayed on the wall, at the top of the steps leaded down. From
there he had a perfect view of everything below him. Wherever he looked all
Stealth saw was Lutins and more Lutins. "We're trapped. What do we do now?"
The scout asked as he nervously counted his arrows.

 

   Edmund turned a full circle looking at all their options for escape.
There weren't any. "We die," he responded. "Again."

 

  The first dozen  lutins through the breach died in a hail of projectiles.
Others simply swarmed over the rubble and the bodies without slowing down.

 

   The archer stood his ground and calmly  snapped off each arrow as fast as
possible. Sending each little messenger of death off to a lutin destination.


 

   Nineteen.

 

   Eighteen.

 

   Seventeen.

 

   He kept careful track of each arrow he used. Not out of vanity to know
how many he had killed but how many arrows he had left. He knew all too well
that his quiver held only twenty arrows. All the rest had been used.

 

   A trio of lutins charged out of the smoke, screaming as they brandished
long swords with wickedly curved blades.

 

   He grabbed a trio of arrows and nocked, drew and released them all at
once. Two of the lutins tumbled to the ground. The third kept coming.

 

   Sixteen, Fifteen, Fourteen.

 

   The archer snapped off another arrow.

 

   Thirteen.

 

   He paid no mind to the previous target as the lutin gurgled and twitched
on the ground before it died. The man spied two Lutins fighting another
human.

 

   Twelve.

 

   Eleven.

 

   He felt more then heard something behind him and he ducked and dodged as
he spun around. A lutins with a massive scimitar was drawing back for
another swung at the archer. He never got the chance.

 

   Ten.

 

   A Lutin in heavy armor climbed the rubble and paused for a moment. He
turned and looked behind him and beckoned with his sword. His armor was
thick and should have made him invulnerable but the archer noticed a
weakness. When the leader raised his sword a second time he revealed that
there was only simple leather protecting his arm pit. A well aimed arrow
went through the leather all the way up to the fletching.

 

   Nine.

 

   A group of lutins clustered around their dead leader and made the mistake
of standing still for too long. Three fell in quick succession before the
rest scattered.

 

   Eight. Seven. Six. 

 

   A score or others replaced the fallen. Stepping over the still warm
bodies of their compatriots. A ragged line of legionnaires met them with
swords notched swords and battered shields.

 

   Lutins and Legionnaires clashed amidst the rubble and the archer picked
his targets carefully.

 

   Five.

 

   Four.

 

   A spear slammed into the ground in front of him. It's sharp point slicing
through the armor on his legs. A quick glance down showed him the wound was
small. He ignored the pain and looked back to his work.

 

   Three.

 

   There were fewer soldiers now. Only two still fighting. "The end is
soon," he thought to himself and took aim.

 

   Two.

 

   Another arrow sank into the flesh of his hip and he cried out in pain but
he still kept his aim steady. He looked where the arrow had come from and
found the archer who had loosed it.

 

   One.

 

   He looked at the arrow for a moment. Taking in its smooth shaft and
carefully crafted fletching. Slowly and carefully he nocked it to his bow
and pulled the weapon to full draw. He saw a dozen lutins charging straight
at him. He clearly could see the features of one. The scar along one cheek
and the gold ring dangling from his left ear. He loosed his arrow and the
projectile raced off and buried it's point in the creature's chest.

 

   The other lutins hesitated for a moment and the archer used the moment to
sling his bow across his back. The man drew two gladius; the short swords
that had served the legions well for centuries. "Let's finish this." He took
a deep breath and charged.

 

 

   The end?

 

 

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