Hard Fought

You join the ranks of grim-faced and frightened militia to the sounds of howls and hoots as the Fell pour through the town's streets like a living, hateful flood. You speak with Klaus for a few moments, your voice calm and pitched to carry to the men and women who are pretending not to hang on every word. Attitudes are contagious, and between the two of you the mood lightens just enough. Convinced that their commanders know what they are doing and seem confident in success, the troops begin murmuring among themselves, making tight-smiled jokes and wagers. "Remember." You speak to them directly. "Your families are literally watching you. Fight like demons and don't let them down. Protect the man or woman beside you and stand your ground. The rest is easy."

The words have barely left your lips when a wall of bestial Fell round the corner and seeing your forces arrayed against them, roar in challenge and triumph before surging toward you. This is when the first of your preparations makes itself known. The streets are already narrow, more akin to the historical districts found in many European cities before the fall of Terra than the more modern streets that eventually replaced them with the advent of motor vehicles. You have narrowed them even further with crates, barrels, and literally anything you could get your hands on. The routes to the Barracks you're defending funnel in to small openings that only a few people could get through at a time. These are held by a squad or two with pikes and spears. Even before they reach this line of defense, the nature of the Fell begins to show itself as the creatures are whipped into such a frenzy that they begin to lash out at their fellow monsters in frustration and desire to remove the things between them and prey.

The front ranks meet with a crash and shouts of courageous determination. Despite the momentum and weight that the Fell have behind their charge, they are held by your defenses and the spear men that defend them. Many begin to climb over the barricades, which are much less sturdy and sheer than even a wooden palisade would be since you threw them together last-minute. They are met by your sharp-shooters stationed on the roof of the Barracks and in every window that faces the right way. The sharp concussive 'crack!' of rifles send black-skinned figures tumbling down onto the next in line and further fouls their advance.

"First Volley!" You shout over the sounds of battle, and a number of fighters waiting behind the spear men arm some of the precious few grenades that you've been able to gather and send them arcing over the wall into the packed ranks of Fell beyond. The enemy are literally packed in shoulder to shoulder so tightly that most of the explosives don't even make it to the ground before going off. Black haze drifts up from beyond the walls as the Fell die and disintegrate in large numbers.

There are three roads that lead into the small square you're defending in front of the Barracks. Each is choked with Fell being fended off by your spear-wielding militia. Enough are making it over the barricades that the sharpshooters are falling behind in sending them back. Not every shot is a kill-shot either, the Fell being tough and hard-to-hit amidst all the chaos. The next few minutes are a swirl of melee as you move from one hot-spot to the next shoring up faltering lines and cutting down the Ape-like monsters that threaten to overwhelm your numbers. Therefore it is only the sudden screams and bodies flying back that snaps your attention to the central approach where the Troll-like retinue of a major Fell are hammering their way through the spear men with gleeful abandon.

"Grenades!" You begin to shout, only to hesitate and then decide against the command. They are too close to your own people and it would shatter the fragile morale to inflict that many friendly-fire casualties. Many of the sharpshooters begin to zero in on the menacing threats, and this time you approve of their selection. The heavy hunting rifle rounds are not instantly lethal to the 10-foot creatures like they are against the lesser Fell, but they stagger them and enough will even overcome their regenerative healing. One falters, then falls as numerous wounds are inflicted by firearms and spears. Three more push further in, opening the way for a horde of the foot soldier Fell.

"Don't oppose them head on! Get out of their way then hit them in the sides after they swing!" You encourage them, demonstrating the technique yourself as a club the size of a telephone pole whirs through the air just above your head. Only by jumping back and down are you able to avoid the blow, but the momentum of the blow takes the club way out of position. Two spears to the neck and about a dozen to the chest are enough to put it down. You aren't able to get up before a pack of the lesser Fell descend on you though, and you are **** to watch helplessly as one of the dwindling Trolls obviously decides to take you out by sacrificing a few of its side along the way. The club looms menacingly as it readies an over-hand blow, when an entire barrel smacks it in the face. It stumbles backward, and another heavy projectile (a rocking chair this time) sweeps a number of the little bastards off of you. Its enough to roll to your feet, and you find the strange assailant from before watching the battle stoically. They seem to have switched out the clumsy chest for a backpack, something you wish you'd thought of before, and has a short-sword picked up from somewhere belted at his back. Its an odd choice of a weapon for such a big man, but you're just glad that he's here.

Normally this would have been enough to break the Fell, but they have tasted the divine energy that Zeus was throwing around earlier and have a pack of frightened civilians squeezed into the Barracks in front of them. They are in a literal feeding frenzy. Enter the commander. This time he's a 12-foot tall gorilla-looking being with so many bony outcroppings that he appears more white than black. Rifle rounds bounce off of him without doing much more than leaving a thin smear of lead across the heavy bony plates. You're not sure how you're going to deal with this one. Your weapons are unlikely to do much against something that large...

There is a blur of motion, and your mercenary acquaintance appears on its shoulders in a swirl of leaves. Two lightening-fast stabs neatly find the gaps in bony plates and sever its neck halfway to the spine before they both collapse in a heap. The Fell slowly begins to dissipate, while its killer seems to have gone ****. With that, the last of the Fell are dispatched and the battle is over!