Kadaj vs Warsman Part 2 - Siege of Phalas Ilgor

Orcs were chanting in the eaves of Caras Dol; seemingly every inch of the place was occupied by one, making the hilltop stronghold shake with the noise of drums and yells. They stood in ragged armor, either stolen from fallen enemies or beaten in their forges from old iron forced from veins of ore underneath the stronghold. With weapons in their hands more suited for butchery than war, they continued their uproar.

If one were to journey into Caras Dol, they would have to climb stairs carved from the rock in its cliffs, a treacherous climb that made foes seeking entrance targets from the countless towers that lined the gatehouse and the walls that stretched like the coils of terrible iron snakes from either side. Heads of fallen royalty or those of dead prisoners would be hung on either side of the stairway on pikes, which set on fire after great victories in wartime, leaving skulls with gaping jaws and broken teeth.

Then the gatehouse they would pass under, though they would have to have permission through it or a miracle to break it down, for the gate-doors were made of black iron, a material rare and strong enough to be valued even by the Dwarves of the Thranabad Mountians.

Finally, within the fortress itself, a journeyer would be met with scaffolding lining the interior, all of which would be lined with archers, leading from fortification to fortification, each minor in comparison to the centerpiece of this morbid place: a great tower built upon a seat of red marble, called "Dodorim" by many, or "Tower of Black Flame" in other tongues.

There, in Dodorim, lies the ruler of this place - a great sorceror named Morick, known to some as Warsman.

At the gesture of a hand he calms the army that follows him without question. Armored and crowned in black iron, Morick leads his armies south, due for Phalas Ilgor, his ultimate goal - to capture the city and create a seat of power there, crushing any who make their stand in his way.

" Enforce the southern wall, left and right gates... We will trap the invaders at the northern breach," Kadaj yelled at the knights of Phalas IIgor. He was setting the preparation to defend this city from the siege that was soon too come. The forces from Caras Dol were approaching from the south and would end up at a breached walll, inviting them in. The orcs were already foolish, so laying such a simple trap would surely takeout half there army and from then on it would man muscle to do away with the rest.

"Are the walls supported? Yes sire and the cannons are ready. Now i want that breach cleaned it up, it shouldnt look like a fresh wound. Yes, sire." Kadaj was usually against getting involved in theses "mortal Wars." He believed he was above living and dying for no real cause, until Moricks men had lain waste to his homeland. It was not this that grab hold of his motivation, it was the vicious murder of his two sons. They hunbg there bodies on the the door of his destroyed home, they were naked and there eyes had been ripped it out. There were no other wounds on there body so they simply died from loss of blood. The pain must have been excruitiating and he wanted Morick to feel every bit of it.

   As he paced throughout the deserted city, he let the rage flow through him. he liked anger, it made him better. He watched as the men worked and prepare for the battle ahead, he approached them "Men what are you here for. Um we're here to fight sire. Fight for what? For whom? what could be worth your lives? Everything sire, everything this city is and could be, we fight for the future and the past sire, this city has stood strong in the past and will live on in the future, we are the defenders of PHALAS IIGOR AND WE FIGHT WITH OUR LIVES!!!! Well said soldier." And with that he walked off, rage building, he muttered "Hmph, fool."

The city was fresh from earlier attacks, but never one as grand as this. Phalas Ilgor sat in the heart of a great mountain range, built into the rock and deep underneath. The banner of the Gold Pearl, the legendary stone said to have been placed underneath the city by a past king, hung over the city, flowing proudly in the wind.

Morick smirked.

"They shall all burn."

His armies amassed around the city - Orcs from Caras Dol, men from Sundar and Drun, the Dark Elves from the arctic Northlands, and Ogres from the darker parts of the Thranabad Mountains. He had sent out for all evil to come to him and they heeded his call, fueled by age-old grudges against the Isuldorians and promises of bloodshed and riches in they fought.

Raising an arm, his hand gloved and fingers ringed, the catapults were brought into range. They were made of iron and twisted lumber, brought from Caras Dol where they were perfected to have the greater range of the siege weapons made there.

"Light the boulders ablaze. Burn them deeper into the city." He said to an Orc captain near him, who shouted the order back to those manning the machines in the Black Speech.

They heeded the command, dumping oil over the boulders and taking a torch to each. Soon Morick dropped his hand, the boulders lighting up the dusk sky as they came over the walls and into the central courtyard, bursting into piles of fire as they made contact with the streets.

The barrage continued for some time, the catapults making enough distraction for the towers, which were being pushed by Ogres to the walls, each filled to the brim with Orcs and Drunish warriors.

The war had begun. The burning boulder were a blazen throughout the roads. There cannons were equally as powerful but the effect was different. If his army was to throw boulders all it would do is open small wholes in there alignment which would be a waste, so he decided to approach this a differently. "Men direct the cannon fire towards the area where the opposing boulders would be there highest in the sky!" He then watched as his men made it happen and eight normal boulders met 8 fiery boulders in the air and both boulders fell upon an unsuspecting brigade of dark elves. "Hmph."

He then looked to the soldiers that ambushed the druns and the orcs, they were succeding that batle would soon be over. But the men of the west wall were having trouble, he jumped in and assisted, laying waste to the forces he thought to himself, "How were theses men trouble," then he realized that they were humans and not as powerful as him. He left no one alive at the west wall, the men cheered for him as he ran off to check the southern and eastern wall. They both were fairing extremely well and too his surprise there had been no causualties on the east wall as of yet.

  With that said he ran towards the outer forces jumped off of the leveling of the mountain range the city had sat upon. He fell through the air as his right arm lit up. Then a large and powerful looking dragon appeared beneath him. He landed on the dragons neck and the dragon sped off, breathing blue fire upon the enemy and wreaking havok on the large army. THe dragon sunk its talons into a ogre's shoulder lifted it up and dragged it to a high point in the sky and dropped it upon a large cannon that belonged to moricks army. Kadaj jumped off the beast and landed in the middle of the dark elf army. He smiled and began to unleash his fury...

Morick smiled. The men of Isuldor were weak in heart, but strong in pride - this one had rallied them to a higher power. Normally his Orcs' barbarity would've made short work of the defense on the wall.

A dragon appeared from nowhere, his master the one who assumed captainship of Phalas Ilgor's defense. Morick watched as he wreaked havoc, but was nonetheless agitated.

"Send in the Wyrms. Have Gorebal released to fight the traitorous beast under this city's captain."

An Orc officer grinned evilly and walked off to tell the others of his master's plans. The Wyrms were a terrible breed of creature - large and foul, immature dragons that laid in the ground until stirred, then unleashed upon an enemy with their immense bodies and fire-breath. They pierced through rock easily with their sturdy skulls and would only be stopped until their rage ran dry, which they Orcs fueled with cracks of the whip.

They were released from their cages, burrowing underground at remarkable speed towards the city, erupting from the ground with fiery gusts of foul air from their maws directed at the men of Isuldor around them, making many burst into flame instantaneously.

While this was going on, Morick turned his steed to Gorebal, mightiest of the dragons of the north, who had followed them on foot in place of winged flight.

"That dragon is a traitor to your kind, Lord Gorebal, dispose of it and a dragon's honor will be restored to you..."

Gorebal, black in scale and blazing crimson in eye, mightier in stature than a Dwarf fortress and with breath white with heat, heeded Morick's words with a mighty roar before spreading his wings, blocking out the sunset in the process, and bolting off for the other dragon, his maw agape and white-hot flames darting from his throat with rage.

"Bring in the Maudlung."

Drums accompanied these words, shouts from the unnumbered Orcs ringing out with them. They began to chant and sing in their Black Speech the arrival of a mighty thing of ruin and discord brought from the deepest workshops of Caras Dol - something of power and such engineering might that only one would ever be seen for the ages to come. It was an immense iron box outfitted with an equally large gear on the front, cannons jutting out of holes in its design for protection and catapults on top for bombarding power into whatever lay before it. The gear began turning, powered by a duo of Ogres inside the iron shell, each manning a wheel that they turned with their physical dominance.

Maudlung, as the Orcs chanted, was carted onto the battlefield by twenty Ogres, ten pulling on chains and ten pushing from behind, the ones in front armored in leather strappings to keep from arrows sticking in them. The gear ripped through the stone of the gatehouse with ease, working into the gate doors itself within seconds.

Meanwhile, the creatures in the towers over threw the defense on the wall as the sturdiness of the Isuldorians faltered at the sight of such a thing. Morick signaled the beginning of the full onslaught of Caras Dol and its allies - the untold thousands that made up the swarm moving behind Maudlung and to the doors, which crumbled open as the machine was discarded, its purpose served. Ogres armored in iron and with mighty hammers struck out at the blocks of Isuldorian infantry, archers frantically firing into the approaching horde. However, as the blocks were broken, Orcs rushed into the gaps, pushing their way through and lashing out with their weapons of death.

Phalas Ilgor was opened like a fresh wound, its pride and courage spilling forth like blood.

The men were sooo weak and it made the fight impossible for him to win, or nearly impossible. Kadaj had taken out a complete chunk of the army and he led the calvary to his ultimate goal, Caras Dol. He did not care whether or not that city fell he simply set it up so that it would draw out moricks best adversaries thus making it easy to approach his castle. As the riders tore through the ranks of orcs that were left, Kadaj jumped upon his dragon and began to burn foul beasts that attacked the city, his blue hott fire could burn through the greatest of shields for this dragon was imbued with magics unknown to all and as was his master. He began to lay wastes to the slowly depleting forces of the caras dol army with his dragons amazing fire. Then a large howl was heard in the area. His beast turned and let out a large howl of its own. Then a large black dragon appeared in plain sight. The two looked at each other and Kadaj knew they were speaking to eachother. His dragon then twisted around and threw kadaj off as it began to face off with the other dragon. Kadaj acknowledged his dragon's choice and set off towards caras dol. He looked back at the city as he saw it being ravaged by Moricks beast. He was tempted to turn back but he knew he could not, because the only way he could stop this was by destroying Caras Dol and Morick.

Chaos ran rampant throughout the city as the forces of Caras Dol rampaged over the walls in astounding numbers. The Isuldorians, without a captain, fell into disarray and fell into a run back to the higher levels of their city, where cannons and archers were frantically trying to hold off the oncoming swarm.

Morick was impressed that the Isuldorians lasted this long.

Gorebal returned, his scales scratched and burned, but nonetheless victorious over the other.

"Where is the rider?" Morick asked, wondering where the one he had specifically asked Gorebal to capture.

The dragon-lord replied with a low grunt.

"Back to Caras Dol, eh? I will deal with him myself. Lead the remaining parts of the assault. Leave them all in cinders."

Gorebal complied and soared off, smoke escaping the cracks in his teeth as he neared the remaining Isuldorians.

Morick called for a cavalry division of Sundarians, who came on strong brown horses and with brass armor, carrying longbows and at their sides swords from Drun, which were made of bronze and crafted into scimitars. Going north to his stronghold, the horsemen at his back, Morick laughed as he already neared those who had escaped, the Sundarians firing arrows at them once they became within range - the hunt had begun.

Kadaj felt morick approaching and saw the hail of arrows from his riders raining down  upon his group. He did a wave of his hand and a force field rised up and all the arrows repelled off of it. Kadaj made his way over to moricks calvary.

"How bout we settle this, being to being, leave the mortals out."

"M'Lord we will take care of him."

"O Yeah c'mon."

The men swarmed upon him, his soldiers wanted to dive in but he told them not to. His right arm began to light up and so did the horses as well. Every single one of them was on fire and the men jumped off and attacked him. He gutted and decapitated every single man and woman in armor. He ravaged these men the rage inside him getting stronger. Too show Morick the reason he came after him intently he ripped the eyes out of the last warrior and left him on the ground to bleed out.

"Now Soccerer, will you face me?"