<html xmlns:v="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:vml" xmlns:o="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" xmlns:w="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:word" xmlns:m="http://schemas.microsoft.com/office/2004/12/omml" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"><head><meta http-equiv=Content-Type content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"><meta name=Generator content="Microsoft Word 12 (filtered medium)"><style></style></head><body lang=EN-US link=blue vlink=purple><div class=WordSection1><o:p> </o:p> 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 .<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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. <o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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?<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p><o:p> </o:p> Anyway - here is the scene - I call it simply 'Twenty'<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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. <o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> "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."<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> "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."<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Edmund turned a full circle looking at all their options for escape. There weren't any. "We die," he responded. "Again."<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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. <o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Nineteen.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Eighteen.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Seventeen.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> A trio of lutins charged out of the smoke, screaming as they brandished long swords with wickedly curved blades.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Sixteen, Fifteen, Fourteen.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> The archer snapped off another arrow.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Thirteen.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Twelve.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Eleven.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Ten.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Nine.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Eight. Seven. Six. <o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Lutins and Legionnaires clashed amidst the rubble and the archer picked his targets carefully.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Five.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Four.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Three.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> There were fewer soldiers now. Only two still fighting. "The end is soon," he thought to himself and took aim.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> Two.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> One.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p> 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.<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p><o:p> </o:p> The end?<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p><o:p> </o:p></div></body></html>