The siege of Vanagandr

The hard round splintered alongside a thousand others on the wall of the capital city defenses. The cannonire taskmaster made jerking threatening motions, hissing and cracking his voice spurring the crew to load and fire again. He sent a burst of fire from his cannon that traced across the thundering night in a wide untrained height, while the crew aside them opened up with a heavy smash, ripping shot after shot into rock creek barricades that sent a light show of orange ricochets sparking into the sky. The city's defenses called back in furious anger huge bonfire light sweapt the area like the eyes of gaint gods. Lighting the path for the haphazard collection of improvished weapon platforms to reign **** from their high position. The cannon crew was close enough to spot imperial engineers and militamen running the legnth of the tench, hunched from the weight of the stacks of munitions they constantly delivere to the guns. The occasionally dropped like targets at a carnival range when acursed magic of the enemies flame wevers sent overcharged bolts whistling through them. The muscled heavy gunner turned with a sneer to his taskmaster and the wretched squad of injured troops that surrounded him and round for them to advance finishing his thickly accented order with a burst of fire dangerously close to their feet. With a crippled cheer, the squad stood as tall as their broken bodies could muster threw out a dark prayer to their god from their cracked bloody lips and charged.

An ageing farmer of root vegetables that had lived his entire life in the mundane safety of the Thornsnare now raced and rolled from barricade to barricade fire an explosive grape rounds missing him by mere inches a week ago this would have stunned him in fear, frozen his advance to be cut down by the incoming fire but this feeling had subsided, any thoughts of his past happy life had faded into blurred dreams, eaten away by unrelenting visions of horror and survival. Survival. He would survive. A rushing soldier to his flank lost the upper half of his head as a bolt screamed into him spraying the farmer's iron mask with gore.

The view of the battlefield turned oily purple as thick dripping mata covered his vision. He hurriedly fingered out the eyeslits, scooping and flicking handfuls of skull and sticking brains to the ground wiping his hands clean on his uniform and a nearby dragon graffiti barrier. He exhaled a mantra of rapid breaths. Tapped his weapon the hammer a designated number of times for superstitious fortune and was ready to move onwards. 'Find the paths and live.' He promised himself before he moved on his haunches, away from the cover of the rock creek barricade and sidling in behind the fresh wave of troopers that sprinted towards the main gate of the city. The road leading to the city's giant gate was wide and perilously open. The burning remains from both armies lit their charge like beacons, the sprawling bodies of incinerated men who tired the city gate before them, crunching to carcinogenic dust under the heavy zigzagging boots of the ****. Engineers at the back of the advance hastily assembled improvised explosives passing them to manic infantry that hurled them towards the reinforced gate. Most of the crazed soldiers were cut down before they got to throw the bombs, their bodies disintegrating when the timers expired.

Crude percussive detonations flashed and popped leaving an impressive plume of black smoke but barely denting the heavy gate to the city. The defenders on the wall boldly mocked and cursed at their attackers with obscene hand gestures, from the concealment of the ocean of cannons and triple the number of troops watching the display atop a hill. Sat a woman clutching the pommel of a sword as it sank into the dirt. "Send another group. Don't spare the powder this time, a simple gate won't hold me from taking what I want little prince."