Tales from the war

[Urgat]

In this thread will be a series of short stories about all things DAOC.

[Urgat]

Tales of the war – 1: A wolf in the pen.


Maximilian winced as the arrow thudded into the wooden palisade beside him. He had just spotted the enemy archer as his arrow had been loosed. It would have missed anyway, but the threat was enough to send quickly ducking behind the tower defences as the missile arced towards his position. Silently he cursed himself, had he continued with the casting his spell would have incinerated several of the invaders at the base of the tower. He wondered what master Vidarl back at the academy would have said. No doubt he would have been chastised for his lack of concentration. Pah, what did Vidarl know of battle anyway? Max doubted greatly that the old fool had ever set foot in a keep, let alone been involved in the brutal defence of an outpost tower.

The Norse had been attacking solidly now for two hours. The main doors had already long since given in to the relentless pounding of the battle ram the north men had constructed. Yet the tower held still. A wall of steel held the ground floor, with the Armsmen and Paladins, Albion’s finest infantry consistently repulsing every attempt by the barbarians to enter the tower. They were supported by clerics on the stairs and second floor, whilst a contingent of the academy’s battle wizards and sorcerers rained down arcane death from the towers battlements.

Gritting his teeth Maximilian once again stepped into view. The view from the palisade was somewhat restricted, but he took comfort in the fact that it would be even harder for enemies to see him behind the thick walls and wooden covers that protected him. He picked a target and began the channelling. He was no stranger to combat so the spell was cast quickly. A great ball of molten rock and fire grew into existence before him and with a gesture he sent it streaking down towards a small blue creature, a Kobold he thought. Even as the first fire bolt was on its way Max had already started forming a second. The effect was devastating; the first conjuration struck the creature squarely. Red fire enveloped it entirely but Max noticed that the creature was instantaneously covered in a white bathing light, no doubt some from of protection from a nearby Norse healer. The look of panic on the Kobolds face subsided momentarily as it glanced to its Seer companion. The dwarf was chanting, but it was not fast enough. The second Bolt struck home a heartbeat later, and with the protective healing surrounding the kobold exhausted, the little blue creature caught the full force of the second arcane fireball. There was a muffled scream which quickly turned into a gurgle as the kobolds throat melted. With the job done Max turned his attention to other targets.

A large cluster of enemies at the base of the tower was his next self appointed task. Once again he started the spell and once again he noticed the Archer. He was obviously tasked with sniping Max and his fellow casters on the walls. This time however Max decided to trust the designers of the palisade. He continued with the spell and released it as more arrows sunk into the defences of the tower by his side. Enemies fell about under the magical barrage, white fire licking at there heels as they scattered to try to avoid the fury of the fire wizard. Max grinned as he launched attack after attack… THIS was what being a wizard was about.

His jubilation was cut short when the archer finally found his mark. The black shaft whistled through the air as it headed straight for Max and evaporated as it struck the invisible bubble of heat that the wizard had erected around himself before the fight. Instinctively he ducked back down again, full of relief that he had the foresight to protect himself for an attack. The bubble of heat was only good for one threat, so he would need to recast it before he started his barrage again. The archer had finally gotten a bead, so it would be a good idea to move positions again. Max stood up and started to make his way towards the other side of the tower.

The front of the battlements was packed so he would need to go around the back to get to the other side. Casually he made his way round, safe in the knowledge he could not be seen even if there were enemy forces positioned around the back. As he turned the corner at the back wall of the battlement there was a dull glint of metal and a lance of pain shot through his throat. He was looking directly into someone eyes; they were dark and set behind a brutal looking full leather helm. The nose guard reminded him of the helms that the Norse sometimes wore. He tried to scream a warning but all that came out was a red gurgle as the blood from the severed artery in his throat bubbled up into his mouth. Max collapsed to his knees, his strength fading quickly as his life blood surged forth from his ruined throat. Looking down he noticed the gore on the floor of the battlements just round the corner, not visible until it was too late… until the shadow blade’s sword had cut through his neck. The Norse assassin smiled darkly and kicked the Wizard over the side of the tower before giving the signal to the archer to send another caster his way. Then carefully, he conceded himself round the corner once more. This one wasn’t the first… and he wouldn’t be the last.