Dark Age Of Camelot: A Dark Age (Part 1)

Its face was hardened and lumpy but almost human in some respects. But its eyes weren't human at all, they were red with slits for pupils like that of a cat. It grumbled something in its harsh tongue, black blood leaking from the corner of the mouth, and wheezed or hissed like something that almost sounded like laughter.

"Watch it boy." General Burke said. His hand moving unnaturally fast as he sank his dagger into its chest. The eyes glazed over as the wheezing stopped. "That's a kobold assassin. Even in their dying breath they still have a few tricks up their sleeves. You'd do well to keep your distance. Hell, I don't like getting near dead ones even. Ian! Tuck! Dismember this thing and dump the parts over the wall. Hopefully that will serve as a warning to all the other assassins already in the courtyard."

"IN the courtyard, you said? Already here?" Heathe looked around anxiously as if he could spot one before they chose to strike. It was his first tour of duty and he had already learned to expect the unexpected. He had trained extensively in his local town of Humberton. He had fought the demons and wraiths of caverns and dungeons near Camelot as well as the southernmost regions of the kingdom. Why he had even been party to the slaying of the old dragon, though honestly he remembers little of that since he was knocked out cold early in the battle from a tail strike straight to his forehead.

Now here he finds himself in Castle Renaris in the service of the King. His first tour of duty, supposedly just an extension of training, where he'd run errands, wash privy's, and spitshine the General's chain armor. But things had gone all wrong. The crows brought news of the entire frontier overrun with trolls, dwarves, celts, and these small blue things. Benowyc, Berkstead, and Erasleigh are already overrun, battered remnants of their infantry have already made it to Renaris. Scout reports of Sursbrooke under siege for almost an entire day now. Though the wildlings are having a time of it there. Heathe's own brother, a theurgest, was giving their forces torment from his conjuring of elementals. Large rock beasts hurling themselves at the trolls until they break apart.

But it wouldn't last. Sursbrooke was doomed to fall soon. Word has passed that four thousand more wildlings have invaded Hadrian's Wall. They have even repaired and taken residence of Berkstead. Sending out scouts of their own. This was not like previous battles with the wilds from the north. They were organized, they were disciplined, and they had siege equipment.

"Sir! General!" A scout cried from the cornertower. "They're moving!"
Burke spat out the dried meat he was chewing. "Ready your archers, Jon. Syrel, get those catapults assembled now! Keep your boys hustling with the stones." He eyed Damon, the sorcerer. He never trusted magic especially sorcerers who could control one's mind. "I hope your worth the trouble we had to get you here." He whispered almost to himself.

Damon heard of course. "What you hope is irrevelant now. As to the trouble you are referring to, I assume you mean the three soldiers you lost to the woods while escorting me to this place," he paused just before "place", saying the word like he had just tasted something altogether horrible. "Worry not, Burke. I'm worth their lives tenfold, though it won't make a difference here."
"And just what do you mean by that?" Burke said, ignoring the slight of Damon not recognizing his rank.

"What I mean is..." Damon turned his pale white eye on Burke with an intense stare. "We are all going to die here."

The General returned the glare and said under his breath. "You just do your part, and get that thing out of the courtyard."

He was referring to the tormented young archer standing behind Damon swaying ack and forth with a glazed look. She was under Damon's spell and would be until her death or his. One of the fremen in these parts that answer to no King. She had the misfortune of discovering Damon while trying to loot his purse from the horse while in the forest. Now she was nothing more than a slave, with no mind. Heathe almost felt sorry for her, but he was too spooked from what was said.

Suddenly the very air became colder with a wind picking up from the north. Supernatural clouds gathered together at an alarming pace while the wind whipped up the dust in a frenzy. The air had an electrical charge to it. Heathe noticed Damon leaning haevy on his staff with his eyes closed. His knuckles where white from gripping the staff as sweat formed on his brow.
"They have a runemaster with them." He said as if to himself. Turning his dead eye to Heathe he whispered. "Tell the general to wake Erysai, his work is not yet done in this world."

Heathe ran in the direction of where Burke left, more to get away from the sorcerer than to deliver his message. He heard drums now and the grunts and calls of trolls. Lightening struck the earth in the courtyard scattering infantry. The wind howled and moaned covering the sound of a trebuchet loosing a one ton stone as it crashed into the left tower. Bodies of scouts fell over the wall, pieces of brick and mortar exploded in a storm on everyone.
The battle had begun...