Morgent under seige

The sun is just rising in the east as you leave your shelter in the trees, a red-orange flame bleeding away the night and paving the way for morning. Hooking your thumbs in your belt, you inhale deeply, feeling the cool, late summer air rush into your lungs. A rustling noise makes you turn around, and you watch as Princess Aurora emerges from the bushes behind you.

She is buckling on the last straps of her armor and you must admit that you are a little disappointed. You suspect that you will not see her beautiful, naked body again, and make an effort to carve the memory of last night in your head. Your prick starts to harden again as you recall her way her breasts felt and the way her body turned in ecstasy beneath you.

She looks up at you and catches you smiling at her. “Miss me already?” She says with a wicked grin and a turn of her hip, “Maybe we should stop and camp again? Maybe something interesting will happen.”

Her advances make you smile even wider, but you have to fight the urge to consider her offer seriously. You climb up to the saddle of your horse and say, “Sorry, princess. The kingdom needs you more than I do.”

“…Yes, of course.” She murmurs, her smile fading a touch. Quietly mounting her steed, she looks to you and says, “Lead on, Hans.”

With the horses, your travel becomes that much swifter and before mid-morning you finally begin to make out the shape of a tall city in the distance. Morgent.

The human capitol sits atop a narrow bluff overlooking the ocean, its main keep sitting atop the highest point. You can make out the outline of the keep even from where you are, you note one of its sides is a sheer drop to a rocky cliff, with rough waters and jagged crags below. Beyond the keep, the settlement sprawl reaches far beyond the shores and expands into a wide, rolling plain. Its grey walls, rising more than forty feet high, still stood proud and unblemished in the sun.

The sight of the city, unbroken, fills you with some hope and the two of you raise your horses to a canter. You race towards the human settlement, elation rising, but other sounds begin to drift in and mix with the hoofbeats; sounds of metal crashing against metal, the thump of boots hitting in soft earth, bowstrings twanging in the air, and screaming; long screams of agony and short screams of ****.

A battle is raging further ahead, just over a rise. You pray that it is only a small skirmish, but as you draw closer and reach the crest of the hill, the sights ahead **** you to accept that the second-worst possible situation has already come to pass:

Vanarim’s main army has finally arrived at the front doorstep of Morgent, the last human stronghold.

Like some great, black beast stretching across the rolling plain, thirty-thousand creatures filled the ranks of the demon overlord’s army. Goblins and Orcs formed the mainstay of his army, with lizardman lieutenants’ snapping whips at the creatures to push them forward. On the opposite side, you see a long thin line of human soldiers. Halberdiers, men-at-arms, and pikemen form a spearwall to keep the monsters at bay. Behind them, two columns of archers are loosing arrows frantically towards the enemy.

“They’re already this far?!” Aurora says, her eyes wide in shock.

Like a slim, silver sword fighting a black cloud, the human host of Morgent held steadfast against Vanarim’s forces in a ragged formation, the gleaming steel of their spears and their proud banner colors – royal blue upon bright white - a contrast to their opponents, with their black-painted armor and blood-red standards.

It is plainly obvious that they are outnumbered more than ten-to-one, but for some reason they are not retreating. They are being cut down by the score, and even though they are giving as good as they get and they are bravely managing to hold their line, there is no other possible conclusion other than complete annihilation.

One of the bannermen down in front suddenly jerks forward with several feather quarrels protruding from his chest. He slumps forward and slowly slides off his steed, crumpling to the ground, dropping a sounding horn in his hand.

“They are going to be massacred.” The princess whispers harshly. “I won’t have it.”

Digging her heels in her steed, Aurora gallops down into the battlefield before you can voice a protest. You curse under your breath and spur your horse onwards after her.

As she approaches the edges of the battlefield, the princess leans over the side of her horse, charging alongside the fallen bannerman, and seizes the horn on the way past. The princess rounds her horse back towards the fray and takes hold of the horn in both hands. Then in one smooth motion, Aurora stands up in the stirrups, puts her lips to the mouthpiece, and blows hard.

The clear, sharp note from the horn cuts through the sounds of the battlefield and rings to its corners. Then Aurora sounded the horn again. And then once more, stretching out the note in a heavy blast.

Heads turned to her direction and towards the horns. There were shouts of recognition and elation. You watch her, standing there upon her steed with her blond hair flowing in the breeze and scaled armor reflecting the sun; like a bright star in the night, she shines, and then her voice calls out true and clarion.

“Free men of the Isle! Today is not the day you die!” Aurora’s voice rings out. “Fall back! Retreat behind the walls!”

The soldiers let out a ragged cheer and the order spreads quickly through the ranks. It takes a few tense minutes for the troops to organize, but soon the host begins a quick yet controlled withdrawal from the battle. First, the archers loose one last volley before retreating, then the flanks collapse inwards, and then finally the center makes a break for the city.

The orcs and goblins on the front lines though, are not so eager to let them leave. The moment the fighters make to retreat, the creatures burst forward in pursuit across the plain, catching and dragging down anyone they can catch. Some of the humans turn back to fight them off, but most just try to evade capture.

About two dozen soldiers assemble around you and the princess though, rather than withdraw with the rest of their comrades, conviction showing on their faces.

“We’ll stand with you, Princess Aurora!” One of the men calls out, “We can’t let a girl watch our backs alone while we run off like little women! Er…begging pardon, m’liege.”

Aurora giggles and then nods thankfully at the warrior.

“Stop! Stop this at once!” You can see someone approaching from the rear of the retreating army. An aging gentleman wearing a red-and-gold striped doublet, silk pantaloons, and a wide-brimmed, floppy hat rides towards the princess, huffing in fury and frustration. “Why did you call a retreat, you fool?!”

“Are you the one who decided on this insane battle, Lord Veritas?!”

“My levy is more than four thousand men strong! We have the finest weapons and armor money can buy! My host alone stood strong while the rest of your father’s men turned tail and ran!” His face reddens as his voice rises in volume, “If you hadn’t come, we would have struck at the heart of his army and brought down the Pretender himself!”

“To which army are you referring to, sir? Do you mean THAT one?!” Aurora yells, swinging a finger towards the oncoming swarm of black-clad warriors. The ground rumbles at their approach and you can practically see their slavering maws.

“You made a mistake, milord, admit it!” She fought with her horse to keep her in line with him, “You tried to grab glory and you failed, and now you’re too stubborn to fall back! Well, now you have an excuse - I am calling a retreat!”

A glance at the enemy side causes the color to drain from Veritas’ face, but he puts on a bold face and keeps his chin set. “I’ll have you responsible for this mess, princess.” He mutters as a warning. With as much dignity as he can muster, he turns his horse towards the gate and gallops off, leaving you with the princess and a handful of stout-hearted men as the rearguard.

“Arrogant, cocked-up bastard.” She glares at Lord Veritas’ back as he rides off before turning back to you and the rest of the rearguard. Unsheathing her sword, Princess Aurora swings her blade lightly, letting the light reflect off of it, and yells out, “Now that the women are finally gone, how about we do our job?!”

Your efforts to stem the tide of monsters are a harrowing experience, simultaneously trying to fall back and stymie the enemy’s pursuit. You handle your axe deftly though, feeling comfortable with its weight in your hands, and somehow you make it to the front gate of the city with only a few losses.

And not a moment too soon either, because you suddenly hear the heavy clanking of metal just behind you. Startled, you turn back from the scuffle to see a huge iron grating slide through the top of the gate and begin to fall to the ground. You shout out a general warning and gallop towards the rapidly closing portcullis. Princess Aurora darts right past you and both of you just barely make it into the courtyard.

“Close the doors! Now!” Aurora yells out the moment the portcullis clangs into the ground.

As two massive, iron-banded doors swing inwards, you can only catch a brief glimpse of the last remaining soldiers, standing on the other side of the portcullis, as they make one last stand against a horde of knives and fangs. The heavy booming noise the doors make as they swing close utterly fails to block out their dying screams.