General Halon looked across the field to the mountain towering over them. Loth Ringard, capital of Eva Lothi stood defiant to the last. The war was nearing its end, and now the only thing standing between himself and victory was the dwarven royal army. Five days of skirmishes and probing attacks on the mountain fortress had provided him with information, enough that he was prepared to make his move. "Is the artillery in position?" He asked.
"Of course, sir." A member of his staff said quickly. Were it not, someone, or someones would certainly feel the general's displeasure.
"And the approaches to the mountain?"
"Have been covered sir." Good.
"And our forces."
"Ready, as ever, General." Marshal Kleis said at his shoulder. The Soulless's eerie ability to move silently disturbed him, though he did his best to mask it.
"Excellent." He said, turning away to the mercenary commanders.
"Commander Gareth, are your men ready for battle?"
Gareth finished securing the lightweight armor on his dragon, then turned to the Lainir. "Ready and waiting, General. Those dwarves have fought hard and well, and it's about time we gave them an end to all this bloody war, eh?" He hoisted up his halberd and grinned.
Halon nodded, "Yes, it is about time we wrapped up this war." He turned and looked out across the fields where the Impath army had gathered, thousands upon thousands of soldiers, marshalled for the express purpose of breaking what remained of the dwarven army. "The plan is set. The artillery will break down the gates and heavily target the enemy positions. Every entrance to the mountain will be broken down and swarmed. Once we begin this fight gentlemen, there will be no turning back. The assault begins in one hour."
With that, everyone departed to their positions, the soldiers forming ranks, the airships drifting into position overhead, the artillerymen checking their firing solutions. An extreme tenseness overtook the battlefield, expectantly awaiting the coming fight. Slowly, though surely, the time for the assault came. Every gun on the invaders' side fired at once in a massive wave of thunder, blasting away at the dwarven positions. The army began to advance. The final battle of the war had begun.
"DOWN!" yelled General Damicus as he saw the artillery fire, and promptly followed his own advise. Not a moment later, the air above his head lit up with the fire of a thousand shells and was torn apart by shrapnel. He raised his head from the foxhole and saw the advancing Lainir army. Years of fighting had come to this final showdown. "Get up, men!" he ordered through the smoke and unholstered his personal revolver. "We've got a war to win!"
Across the battlefield, thousands of Dwarf soldiers raised themselves from their cover and began firing back against the Lainir. Damicus was painfully aware of how significantly their numbers had been dwindled by the artillery strike, but his mind was at least partially set at ease as he saw the artillery from the mountain fire back at the invaders.
Halon took his field glasses and began scanning the upper reaches of the mountain. Evidently, they had missed some pockets of artillery, though by and large there was a fairly accurate count of the dwarves' uppermost defenses. "Tell Marshal Weils that the mountain artillery is to be silenced immediately." A runner ran off to the communications tent and began to relay the message.
He turned his glasses to his own ranks as they drove forward against the enemy. At the front of the army were the unmistakable lines of the Black Legion, seemingly oblivious to the bullets cracking against their ranks, or the artillery firing overhead. "Gods' speed." Halon whispered, hoping that Kleis could deliver on his promise. Nothing had managed to stop the Black Legion yet, and hopefully their record would still hold against the dwarves.
Gareth's dragon troops flew overhead, dropping stones and attacking the further ranks from the sky. He glanced down below, noting the mass of fur that was their cavalry charge. He didn't let himself worry about Kiara and the others right now. His soldier's in the sky were his main worry. Besides, he had to keep the dwarves attention.
A small band of dragons swept in, the best riders Gareth had, and began to take purchase amongst the walls of the Dwarven mountain. They dropped off their passengers and departed as quick as they came, eager to join their brothers in battle. The spider riders began their descent down the mountain walls, creeping towards the enemy from above.
High in the mountain, artillery officer De'cal was fighting for his life. The spider riders had reached their position and artillery crews around the face of Loth Ringard were being attacked. De'cal, considering the close quarters of the artillery hollow, had drawn his sword to face the attackers. A spider jumped at him, and he rolled to the right to avoid it's fangs. It's rider shot at De'cal with a handgun, but the round bounced harmlessly off the Dwarven Steel armor. De'cal spun around to chop at the spider's legs. He felt the blade connect, and the spider hissed and fell. The Changling was put off by the spider's spasm, and De'cal took the opening. He bashed through the enemy's flimsy guard and plunged his sword into his heart. As the Changling died, De'cal looked around to see how his comrades were fairing. It seemed that they would actually fend them off. Just as he was about to Whoop in celebration, he heard the whistle of an artillery shell, and a moment later the artillery position, like many others across the mountain was filled with fire and shrapnel.
Down in the trenches, Master Knight Arcturus charged the Black Legion, flanked by two younger Knights. He fired three rounds from his shotgun before dropping it and drawing his sword. It was one of the Hundred, and shown with holy light in the darkness. One of the undead lunged at Arcturus, but the corpse was no match for a Knight's agility. He ducked under the attack and, using his own inertia to carry him forward, sliced the zombie's torso in two. Before it even hit the ground, Arcturus had already severed the heads of eight more zombies. The other Knights in the charge were doing equally well, but they were quickly being over run. Arcturus took a breath and shot a stream of lightning from his finger tips. He swept it around the advancing enemies, who caught fire and fell apart.
"You'd better have something to do about this situation, Kleis." Halon said, watching the ranks of the Black Legion crash against the dwarven trenches. They were still holding a spirited defense. That wasn't good.
"Patience, my dear general." Kleis said, keeping his eyes on the army, "Have I ever failed you? My forces are more than ready to break the dwarven ranks in more ways than one. In fact," He looked to his watch, "Another one of my projects should make itself apparent quite soon.
***
Wilhelm ran forward, pressed behind the ranks of the Black. The dwarves were still fighting, this wasn't good. Not good at all. Marshal Kleis would not accept this. Fortunately he had a plan, rather the Arcanist forces had a plan, and he was going to initiate it, he just needed to get a little closer. Instinctively, he ducked as a bullet whizzed by his head, almost taking him in the ear. He was almost at the forefront of the fighting.
Wilhelm took out the scroll and began reading the bloody glyphs, shutting his eyes, trying to silence the war around him, focusing on the magical energies swirling about him. He began shaking as the power began to well up within him, releasing it against the dwarves. As the magic receded, he breathed a small sigh of relief, preparing to fall back to the rest of the arcane forces and fight from a safer distance when an artillery shell exploded nearby, hurling him several feet away and knocking him out, but what was done was done. Moments later, thousands of dwarves began freezing in place, running away and shouting incoherently, overtaken by a powerful curse of fear.
All around General Damicus, his men were falling into a state of madness. Not all were effected, but those that were either dropped their weapons and ran, killed themselves, or opened fire on the other Dwarves. With the defenders losing their wits, the Lainir army was cutting through the trenches like a hot knife through butter. Although Damicus hated to admit it, they had to pull back.
"FALL BACK!" he shouted, and sent runners to spread the word. Under a hail of gunfire, Damicus lead the surviving troops into the city. The last sane Dwarf ran through the gates, and the great iron doors clanged shut. Damicus knew it would only buy them a few seconds, but he'd take any advantage he could get. The Dwarves settled in and waited for the Lainir to come in after them.
Halon stood there for a moment, shocked. The campaign thus far had been effective, devastatingly so, but this...this was something else entirely. "What have you done, Kleis?" He whispered. The dwarven army had all-but entirely collapsed in the field, many dying, others simply driven mad by whatever power had broken their minds.
"My job, general." Marshal Kleis responded, "The dwarven army is scattered, as you requested."
"This is a massacre."
"This is war, my dear general. Have you forgotten the landings already? The siege of Kamjet? These people do not surrender lightly. You should be thankful that I was on hand to help facilitate their demise."
Halon looked out over the fields, at the great mass of dwarves, broken, in body and mind, those both alive and sane were being gathered up and taken to the back as prisoners or to the medical tents to be treated. There were few of those, though.
"Messenger!" General Halon shouted, turning quickly and walking down to the tents, "Send word to the commanders, ranks are to be reformed and they are to stand by for a renewal of the assault on the city. Another message goes to the artillery, I want a firing solution on the gates of the city!"
The messenger ran off, disappearing into the mass of soldiers. "Shall my own forces be allowed to participate in the next assault?" Kleis asked.
Halon glared, "Be at the ready. We're taking the city."
Kleis chuckled, "I was hoping you'd say that, my dear general."
Three hours later, the Impath lines had reformed, and the guns had been repositioned, now targetting the outer gates of Loth Ringard. Many of the Black Legion that had fallen during the initial assault had been raised, and were once more ready to charge the enemy fortress. As the sun reached its peak overhead, another rumble of artillery was heard crashing into the gates of Eva Lothi, followed by a loud cry and the distant clattering of an earthquake as the Impath Army charged into the dwarven capital.
With little resistance meeting them now, Gareth took his dragons to the mountains in full force. The entire wing settled down amongst the wolf riders and they stormed in amongst the Impath soldiers. The dwarves were beaten, but not broken. But as they continued to fight, he began to notice how few losses they were taking. It was as if some force was watching over them, swaying the battle in their favor. He shook the thought from his head. A foolish dream. Still, it seemed he wouldn't need the knife he carried after all. He grinned and swung his halberd again as his dragon swiped at another dwarf. He didn't mind getting bloody, and there were plenty of soldiers left to go.
General Damicus roared a fierce war-cry and fired his pistol as the Impath charged into Loth Ringard. The time for words was gone. Now was the time for action, for heroism. It was clear that they would die here, but they would die with honor! At least that was the General's last thought before a sniper round pierced his skull.
"Got one." Seral said, reloading. She was one of several thousand snipers scattered throughout the Impath army. If war was to be fought, it was to be fought the lainir way, with subtlety, subterfuge, and assassination. She finished reloading and brought the scope back to her eye, looking for another target. This was a way of war the dwarves had no familiarity with, and only served to give the lainir a critical advantage.
It was difficult to make a shot with the Changeling cavalry charging through the gap in the dwarven defenses, but she got of several more before reloading again. In spite of the chaos of battle, Seral thought briefly on the oddity that it seemed she couldn't help but hit the dwarves with every shot.
On the main street, Master Knight Arcturus and a company of Knights battled ferociously against the Lainir and Changlings. Their firearms had long since ran out of ammo, so they used their swords and axes against the attackers. The artillery had been set up along the main road to block the Impath's advance, which helped the defenders manage them. But numbers were numbers, and several positions had already been overrun by either the Lainir soldiers or the undead horde.
But Arcturus still fought. As a squad of Lainir charged by an abandoned cannon, the Knights jumped on them. He tackled one of the taller beings, who fell to the ground and met his blade. The others turned and fired, but the bullets were easily deflected. Arcturus rolled forward and turned his block into a strike to another's midsection. Before he could pull his sword back out of the foe, Arcturus felt a bullet cut into his leg. He cringed in pain, but was able to reestablish his defense before any more could hit him. Another Knight joined the fray, and together they made short work of the squad. But although the army's advance had been retarded, it was by no means stopped. The Knights along with the rest of the defenders, fell back to their final line of defense, the Royal Palace.
The combined armies let out a great cry as they stormed the city. The dwarves were falling back in their hundreds, the better part of their army had been destroyed, the capital was overrun and their resources had been almost wholly abandoned in the field. Mortars were being set up while the armies reformed. They were drunk on victory and dreams of wealth to be plundered from the palace.
As the mortars fired, breaking open the doors to the palace, a lainir colonel no one quite recognized ran ahead of the rest of the army, pistol raised overhead, "Charge the gate! Victory is at hand! No one can stop us!" He shouted, as the combined forces rushed in after him, firing into the last of the dwarven defenders, as Isond the Warmaker, in mortal guise, led the last charge of the Battle of Loth Ringard.
Gareth leapt onto his dragon and the two roared out in twin blood lust. His men, riders and beasts alike, roared and howled after him. "May the death god welcome our enemies with open arms!" he shouted, and all charged with the Impath. He felt the fires of war burn within him like never before. Battle was in his blood and death was his escort, and many gifts lay before him to give her.
Kiara shot another dwarf down before stabbing at another with her bayonet. Her wolf bit out at another, dragging the body into the air with her jaws before dropping it, teeth stained red with blood. She howled when she heard Gareth's dragon, though Kiara did not. Something was overcoming the others, but it was dangerous. Powerful, helpful even, but infectious. She could see it spreading over them, Changeling and Lainir alike. The only ones it did not touch were the dead, who were safe in the hands of Zareth, even if only for the moment, judging by the way the necromancers scurried about. "Gareth!" she cried out, but he was lost to her. She saw his wicked grin as he charged into a group of knights and was knocked off of his dragon, vanishing into the midst of the battle.
In the royal palace, all hell was breaking loose. The Dwarf's hastily made defense was demolished by the final Lainir charge. Throughout the ancient building, walls and balconies crumbed under mortar fire and doors burst open as the invader's swept the structure.
In the basement, a Knight worked a large wrench against the wall. Two other, younger knights flanked him, on the watch for any Lainir. But they seemed preoccupied on the higher floors, at least for the time being. "There we are." the Knight with the wrench said, and grunted as he lifted a metal plain up and away from the wall, revealing a hidden tunnel. "Alright, get going. I'll watch out."
But the other Knights didn't move. "I don't know, Arcturus." said one of them. "I don't like the idea of leaving like this. It ain't right."
Arcturus sighed. "I don't like to leave our comrades behind either. But we have a job to do. They will die in honor, and I wish we could join them, but the coming age will be hard for our people. The Dwarves will need the Knights of Order, now more than ever."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." the other conseded. "Does make it any easier though. With that, the trio disappeared into the tunnel. By the time the Lainir found it, they were long gone.
The dwarves fired everything they had left, but it was a futile last effort. Their manpower had been obliterated, their supplies had been lost to them, and what was left of the royal army made one last stubborn show of force to sway the tide of battle, but it was too little and too late. Those who still had their weapons fired at the encroaching force of lainir and changeling troops, those without grabbed what they could and attempted to charge the enemy, joined by those without ammunition, they were cut down almost immediately. Even in as bad a shape as they were, the remnants of the dwarven military still held a strong defensive position and it took the better part of two hours and desperate room-by-room fighting before they finally broke, though by then most had been slaughtered.
After the battle, General Halon and his staff made a tour of the city, ending in an inspection of the ruins that had once made up the dwarven palace. The victory was total. After the tour, the military retinue broke off, leaving only Halon and Kleis in the throne room.
"A fine victory General." Kleis remarked as Halon slowly limped to the throne and eased himself down. "People will speak of it for years to come. Across the world, people will learn that the great general, Halon Tenair, toppled the dwarven kingdom."
"What are you on about now?"
Kleis shrugged, "Oh, nothing. Just trying to understand you, general. This is what you wanted, wasn't it? A great war, and grand victory? Your name emblazoned in the annals of history?"
Halon leaned forward, "What makes you think that you know what I want?"
"I just have a knack for guessing. What's the next step from here?"
"Peace." Halon said, producing a small piece of paper from his pocket, "I've already wired the capital with news of our victory. Within a day they'll send our terms for peace to the dwarven government at Val Gren."
"Given that their army is now dead in the field, I take it that these 'terms' read like a list of demands?" Kleis took the paper from Halon, "Let's see...Blah blah blah dwarves cede all western Eva Lothi to the Lainir Imperium...Dwarves acknowledge a debt to lainir for war costs...That is a big number...Dwarven army must not exceed 50,000 soldiers at any time. This the most gratuitous list of oppressive demands I've ever read. Well done."
"It's necessary." Halon said.
"I do not deny this." Kleis said, handing the paper back as he turned to leave, "Anyway, this was entertaining, however it is time for me to go. Permission to leave general?"
Halon rose, pushing off from his cane, "Granted, Marshal Kleis." For the first time, the Soulless saluted his commander. "Before you go, I'd like to thank you, for your help in the campaign."
A smile played on Kleis's lips, "Don't. I have a feeling that this war was only the prelude to something much bigger. Things like this don't end quite so cleanly, general."
