Seige of Aresgate

Collection of scenes from the final confrontation of the campaign.

[Sidax Addresses the Party]

"Ah, finally. The Morons of Mobius have arrived. I see you've brought friends. So have I. Tor, it's good to see you again. I hope you know our little situation back in the day was nothing personal - I saw an opportunity and I seized it. I don't think you would've done the same in my shoes, but you were never very bright. Despite all you've done to harm me, I grant you the opportunity to leave now and die later."

"It's a shame you didn't bring your vermin paladin. Too dimwitted for subterfuge, eh? What am I saying, that goes for all of you! I bet you thought you were clever, convincing that silly Aquian to lie to me." Sidax raises a claw, gesturing to a stripped, beaten and crucified Alonso, barely alive and on display in the courtyard. "Desperate for power, that one was. He was caught wandering through the sewers, searching for gods-know-what. I think he's still breathing, if you wish to punish him further."

"How do you like the venue? I would've preferred our rematch in the arena, but it's more of a kennel at the moment. At any point I may summon my hound and spell the end for Feylin, but my time as Warfather instilled within me a spirit of sportsmanship. Xengral will be here in spirit, as I sup of its boundless energy and crush every single one of your fragile mortal bones."

"After I kill you and reclaim my honor as Warfather, I'll have finished my business here in Aresgate. I've sucked this city dry. It's time to move on to the rest of the world. I'll start by plunging Advent into the sea. Then I'll send my hyenas into Fenside to savage any and all they can find without restriction as a reward for their loyalty. Don't worry, though, I won't be allowing anyone to die. I intend to use Xengral's power to revive, transform and merge them all into a colonial organism. Their souls, once fused, will allow me to reach directly into heaven, pluck out your immortal essences, and cast them straight into the void. I will be as a God, and you will be as shit beneath my heel. You stupid motherfuckers. You shit-eating worms. FUCK YOU."

[Siege - Aresgate's Shore]

A cadre of goblin archers escort a large church bell onto the shore northeast of Aresgate. The vessel it rode in on lays beached on the sand, still blanketed by a thick fog conjured by the royal mages. The bell is framed by a palanquin, carried now by the rowers who brought it here. It's quickly affixed to a wagon under the direction of Father Uvier. Glob draws his scimitar anxiously, eyeing the trees between them and the city.

One of the sailors grumbles. "What's the point of the mist if we were just going to announce our arrival with a fuckin' church bell anyway?"

Father Uvier shoots him a withering glare. "The mist was protection for the journey. The bell is protection for the arrival."

Suddenly Glob shouts, "Hyenas!" as a dozen furry shapes descend upon the landing party from the trees. Arrows are loosed from the goblins' bows, most making contact with the charging beastfolk, who make no attempt to dodge or hide. Some fall but rise again within seconds with new and terrible features.

Uvier hastens to remove the dampeners from the brass bell as soldiers charge to meet the Xengrans in melee combat. The hyenas don't fight with any particular skill or grace, but they make up for it with unwavering confidence and reckless abandon. They fight as women who don't fear death.

"Heretics!" shouts Glob as he joins the fray, "Denizen take you!" He hacks and smites a rabid beastfolk, the light of his blessed strikes illuminating the fog like a halo. Even so, the creature is only stalled, not stopped.

Uvier removes the final dampener and loops a rope around the bell's yoke. "Let's provide Denizen with a some direction," he declares as he tugs the rope with all of his strength.

Bong.... bong.....

The clapper's impact emits waves of multitonal reverberations. The hyenafolk pause their assault, trying to grasp the bell's portents for a moment before continuing unabated. It is only when the next one falls that they witness its grim effects. One hyena's arm is severed by Glob's scimitar, and rather than a new limb emerging from the wound, blood and blight burst forth. The furred warrior collapses.

Shock radiates through the ambushers' ranks as they are backed up to the treeline. The first foothold is being taken.

[Siege - Advent]

Rikkard stands at the edge of the floating city, looking across the Chrysocolla Sea at the signal smoke still drifting over Aresgate. The thrumming of his hulking brass armor reverberates through his head. Beside him stands the Warmother of the ourok, who has once again taken on the name Tusk.

"Group Delta is running behind schedule. We'll need to reassign someone to join the western spearhead in their place," says Geneva as she briskly approaches from behind.

"Have it be group Gamma." Rikkard replies without turning to her. He's focused on the large rafts sailing in the city's shadow, carrying a dozen seige towers and a hundred ladders.

Geneva's brow furrows, as it often does when Rikkard allows his emotions to make decisions. "If we move group Gamma up in the formation there won't be anyone protecting Habbsberry's western flank. You know as well as I that the beastfolk will be crossing the bay from Dozendocks. We'll need experienced troops there to crush them."

Rikkard is silent for what feels like an age. "Habbsberry can manage."

Geneva moves closer and lowers her voice. "Now's not the time for that. The beastfolk reinforcements need to be dealt with the moment they reach shore or they'll gain momentum and inflict unnecessary damage. We have a plan in motion. It requires the trust of the Crown. Now is not the time to jeopardize that."

"General Saint," Tusk interjects, her powerful voice causing Rikkard to jump slightly in his suit, "give me an hour and I can scrounge up a squad of highly enthusiastic ourok volunteers. We'll have your spearhead patched up without any hassle."

Rikkard turns to her and nods. "Thank you, General Tusk. Have them meet with Sandrene for marching orders."

"Oh, that was the other thing I needed to tell you," Geneva clasps her hands behind her back. "Nobody can find Sandrene. Some of the droptroops on portside reported they saw that shiny new airship Habbsberry loaned her flying up over the clouds towards Aresgate. We've heard nothing since."

"What?" Rikkard exclaims, turning fully now. "She can't be missing. She's supposed to be providing-"

He's interrupted by a loud bark from the voltaic thaumspeakers: "SMOKE APPROACHING FROM ARESGATE." The trio turn to see for themselves. Indeed, a column of black smoke is visible, but it moves with an unnatural and unnerving speed. It appears to be rushing up toward the vessels below Aresgate, hovering just above the waves.

"Train railguns on it!" Rikkard shouts, sending a surge of energy into his armor and launching himself towards the nearest officer. "Do not let whatever that is reach the boats! Without those towers we have no way over the walls! Fire whatever is loaded!"

"It's too late! It's already below our angle of fire!" one of the railgun spotters answers him, spyglass aimed down at the billowing threat. "It's not just smoke, it's... birds! They're carrying coals!"

Before long the shadow beneath Aresgate is illuminated by the warm glow of burning boats.

[Siege - Aboard the Deva of Decadence]

An expensive-looking airship with an arcane core flies up to meet with a fleet of Oswian airships. Terry takes a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves. He's aboard the Deva of Decadence high up in the sky above Aresgate, lungs fighting to extract as much oxygen from the thin air as possible. He centers his mind on the thrumming of the core keeping the ship afloat atop the sea of clouds. The shadows of the rest of the fleet pass over him. Dozens of airships laden with hundreds of troops dangle from gas sacks up above, out of reach of the city's defenses.

He clutches his spear tight, eyes scanning the members of the two squadrons aboard the ship. Most are wearing crude iron armor, crafted quickly by army blacksmiths in the Oswian capital. Many have bits and pieces of more expensive-looking armor in the set. Family heirlooms, probably, like his spear. A tall human woman standing on the deck across from him wears a full suit of decorated brass armor. Her dark green eyes catch his from under her helmet.

"Do you like it?" She asks, turning a bit to give him a better look. "It's been in the family for centuries. I figure this armor must be blessed by at least one of the gods for our lineage to last all the way to me." Pride swells in her voice.

Terry smiles, glad for the distraction. "I do like it, but that's not all I'm admiring..." He answers with a wink.

A shout rings out across the ship before she can respond: "Officer on deck!"

All fall silent as Sandrene steps out of her chambers. She spends a minute examining each of them quietly. Her head is crowned with strange twisting vines like laurels. Her eyes are red and puffy. She is followed by two young human men in purple robes, holding hands with each other. These two look barely older than Gilly, Terry thinks to himself with a frown.

Finally, Sandrene speaks. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it, men, you've been chosen for one of the most vital and dangerous missions of this war." She gestures to the two behind her. "Frederick here is going to cast Feather Fall on you - it'll allow you all to drop down from any height without harm. Then, Phineas is going to cast Invisibility, whose name I hope is self explanatory. That'll allow you to land within the walls of Aresgate without attracting attention. Once on the ground, you'll remain invisible until you take an aggressive action. Your goal is to make your way to the docks and neutralize as many defenders as possible, clearing the area for a naval incursion directly into the heart of the city. Now's your last chance to ask questions."

Terry clears his throat, glancing past the half-elf to the two spellcasters. "Aren't y'all a little young to be battle mages?"

The one Sandrene identified as Frederick answers. "Do not fret, dear caprian! Us two were intutelated by the finest wizardress in all of the land, Lady Uusi herself, within and occasionally beyond the Refulgent Flame. Our phalanges are finely tuned, and our minds thriceover!"

Another voice calls from the crowd. "What's with the hand holding?"

The other one, Phineas, turns bright red. "That's none of your GODS DAMNED BUSINESS!"

Sandrene rolls her eyes and looks like she's about the scold someone when she's interrupted by yet another cry: "Birds approaching!"

She strides over to the railing and pulls out a spyglass, aiming it towards the rapidly expanding dark mass. "Lolth's clutch, he knows we're here. Fireballs, now! I'm not losing another damned ship! Meemi, Nina, evasive maneuvers!"

A short, tailed figure in a heavy protective leather suit uses her tongs to pull a rod from the furnace and slot it into core, causing it to sizzle and whine. From the deck above her compatriot Nina pulls the ship's wheel sharply, causing all aboard to stumble.

"As soon as we jump, drop altitude over the sea!" Sandrene barks.

Screams rise up from the ships as the first of the the flock arrive. Lightning and fireballs are launched from their decks, roasting scores of crows, but many slip past. A vessel plunges down beneath the cloud layer as its balloon is ripped to shreds, its occupants leaping over the railings in a mad panic.

One of the crows swoops and lands behind Meemi in her leather hazmat suit before exploding into a hyenafolk before Terry's widened eyes. He's seen Ida wildshape dozens of times - once just to scratch a part of her back that her stubby gnome arms couldn't reach otherwise - but it wasn't like this. It was as if the hyena was hiding inside the bird somehow, bursting forth in a cloud of feathers and gore. Before the beast can strike Sandrene grabs her by the nape of her neck and unleashes a surge of lightning from her gauntlet before tossing the limp body off the ship with supernatural strength.

"Change of plans!" Sandrene shouts while fiddling with her suit, "Squadron A, stay here and protect the gremlings! Squadron B, don't hesitate! Jump NOW!" Her helmet manifests over her head as she sprints to the edge of the deck, jumping off the side and disappearing into the clouds.

Frederick and Phineas share a glance before following behind her, plunging into the abyss with hands still clasped. Terry and the rest of his squad, including the woman in brass, follow suit.

Icy particles whip past the satyr's face like needles as he freefalls. He emerges on the other side, limbs spread-eagle and soaked in dew. Sandrene is nowhere to be seen but he quickly spots the two wizards about a hundred feet below him, robes billowing. They're falling with their backs towards the ground, waiting for the rest of their people to appear. The scene beyond is chaotic. Aresgate pulses with orange and blue light. Fires burn in the streets and atop the walls. A cloud of dust and smoke rises from the wreckage of the doomed vessel Terry witnessed earlier. Xengral is nested within the arena like a titanic boil. Terry cranes his head and witnesses the rest of his squad falling alongside him. The woman in brass catches his eye once again and flashes a smile.

Courage surfaces in the flood of adrenaline screaming through his veins. He manages to smile back through clenched teeth. He feels his descent slowing as the promised spell washes over him from below. Squad B falls gently towards the city streets, followed shortly by the survivors of the other airships. "The worst is over," he thinks, "for now."

Terry was, unfortunately, wrong. Crows drop down from the clouds behind the falling warriors. Terry watches in horror as one of them dives at the woman in brass, exploding into a bloodthirsty hyena warrior who strikes her like a ballista bolt before tearing into her. She doesn't even have time to react, just scream as the beast rips through her armor, clothes and flesh.

"NO!" he shouts reflexively, terrified, furious, and ultimately impotent. He attempts drawing his shortbow but it's already too late. The hyena warrior, drenched in blood, plunges towards Glade at full speed as chunks of the green-eyed woman float gently down just beyond Terry's reach.

[Siege - Prison Tower]

The caprine mountain of flesh and blubber cracks open a large legbone and slurps down the marrow. "Guardsman!" he cries out towards the door, "Another prisoner please! I've finished with this one." He tosses the pieces of bone into a corner of the dark, windowless room, where they clatter to a halt before slowly sinking down into the floor.

"Guardsman?" he calls again, "I simply cannot be expected to weather these trying times without something to gnaw on. Guardsman!"

His reply finally comes in the form of a black-haired woman holding a dead man in chainmail at arm's length as she steps through the open doorway. Andrea Ysri gazes at the floor, careful not to look Papa Gruff in his scarlet, square-pupiled eyes.

Papa Gruff lets out a purturbed gurgle and wipes his hands uselessly on his blood-soaked poncho. "Well well well," he says glibly, "if it isn't the magician's assistant! Come now, you should know such illusions are meaningless to me. Let us discuss things face-to-face."

Andrea throws the dead guard onto the floor, captiulating to the demand. She snaps her fingers to dispel her disguise, revealing her natural blonde hair.

"There you are, Suzie! It's so nice to see that pretty face again. I remember you as my go-between with the Warfather, back in simpler times. Tell me, what happened to your little Sidling? He can't be more than a couple months old at this point, correct? Shouldn't you be caring for the little monster?"

Suzie's eyes are trained on the ceiling, not betraying any emotion even without the magical mask. "You can guess why I'm here, Gruff. The walls are caving in for your lord. Recall your boys and give the people of Aresgate control over what happens next."

"For what purpose? Could we be unlikely allies? Would you like a citizen of Aresgate to share with me while we wait for the battle to conclude?" he says, rolling his eyes. "What walls do you speak of? This war has just started! I don't see King Ozzy making it over those walls for weeks, things being as they are."

"It's funny you mention that." Suzie says as she produces pocket watch. Out of the corner of her eye she notices that the dead guard's armor now lies empty.

BOOM... BOOM....

Two enormous explosions ripple through the city. The foundations of the keep quiver and dust rains down from the crevices in the ceiling.

Papa Gruff is taken aback. His eyes dart around the room as if seeing something through the stone bricks. "Ah, gaps in the eastern and western walls. But Uusi is at the temple... who else could have done this..."

It's Suzie's turn to smirk. "It's a different type of kobold magic."

"Ah hah! Yes the kobold! No wonder the Closed Eye was so eager to get their hands on him!" Papa Gruff's eyes are wide with suprise, but not fear. Not yet. "If you both somehow manage to survive this, you're all going to be targets for them now! You'll never have a restful sleep again! They're going to go scorched-earth on all your little accomplices!"

Suzie's eyes narrow. "Nevermind us. You know the stakes now. Recall your boys or-"

"Or what?" Papa Gruff scoffs. "You'll kill me? Please. The only thing left of my boys is the tether by which I tug at them. The rest is pure demon. If you killed me, nothing would prevent them from slaughtering anyone and anything they could get their hands on. Besides, once the Beastlord achieves his aims, there won't be any death so gruesome as to prevent him from resurrecting me. Perhaps in a more... athletic body." He pulls at the great mass of his belly, lifting it up slightly. It seems his flesh doesn't end at the floor and is incorporated into the very stonework of the keep.

Suzie swallows a gag as the stench of the satyr's undercarriage hits her.

"And if your plan is torture, then have at it! I could use the entertainment. The life of a living conduit has its charms, but even seeing through the eyes of all my boys doesn't alleviate my boredrom. Perhaps I can scrounge up some genitalia for you to abuse."

Suzie remains quiet, spinning a dagger in one hand and pacing.

Papa Gruff's gaze follows her back and forth across the room, face growing visibly impatient. "Well? Did you not think this through? What was your plan?"

Suzie stops, standing with her back toward him. The illusionist withdraws a tiny box incribed with runes from her belt. "My plan was just to keep you focused on me for a few minutes while Karma got into position."

A razor-sharp dagger materializes in the edge of Papa Gruff's vision. Muted, raspy chuckling fills his ears. Suzie continues: "You and your boys share the same eyes. We'll be taking them with us, in this antimagic box."

Papa Gruff attempts to grab at the little kobold but it's already too late.

Across Aresgate the Gruff Boys wander, blind and listless.