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City of the Damned

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Jazzmosis, Feb 17, 2004.

  1. Jazzmosis

    Jazzmosis IncGamers Member

    Dec 12, 2003
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    City of the Damned

    I posted this.. way back when in December, but I see the forums were wiped so I'll re-post the whole thing, which is now finished (as opposed to when I last posted it...)

    Anyway yeah.. give me a moment to get it all together.
  2. Jazzmosis

    Jazzmosis IncGamers Member

    Dec 12, 2003
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    The sun shone delicately, billowing rays of light to the city. The children played simple games; the merchants sold their wares; the warriors practised. It was a time of training for one youthful spirit. His father, the blacksmith, told tales of war that he had prospered in. When wars waged, his business flourished. Now. . . now the blacksmith found himself with nearly nothing to do, as the city had been without an attack for nearly ten years.

    At one time, the young lad’s city was a focal point during feuds over land. For many years, the demons of hell attacked mercilessly, each time leaving with nothing. It was this city - between the coastline of Lut Gholien and the mountains of Kae Huron, which Harrogath was built on - that was nicknamed the “Undefeatable”. Situated in the desert, it was the only place for supplies and shelter during trips. Many warriors brought their armies through, apparently heading to Lut Gholien. The city flourished, and was loved by all humans.

    However, recent tales of the corruption near the Rogue’s Monastery, the rise of the Prime Evils, and Tal Rasha’s return beckoned the city officials to start piling military. Just as in the past, the Undefeatable city would not fall to demons. Of course, for the blacksmith, this was great news. He built armour, swords, shields - anything to do with war. He was in the midst of teaching his son the art of the sword. His son, named Yais, had just recently joined the military forces. Although the thought of losing his son troubled the old blacksmith, he was swelling with pride as Yais had been renowned as one of the up-and-coming swordfighters. He would not die - his father had taught him well.

    But all was not well. The Undefeatable city heard rumours of an army approaching. Speculation was, the first wave of attacks would commence this very night. This was surprising to the old blacksmith. . . no army had moved so swiftly through the desert before without being noticed sooner. However, the Undefeatable was built on a large dune - all approaching armies could be spotted from miles away. So there would be ample warning of attacks, and the vastness of the invaders. Nothing to fear. He was conversing with Yais earlier, as his son was called to the front line that night. Yais could hardly hold back his excitement - a rookie fighter called to the front line! He practised with his sword all morning, stopping only to eat. Then, as the sun began to set, he gathered his supplies and headed off to the lines.

    This would be the last time he saw his son.

    Yais shuffled, slightly nervous. His metal armour seemed heavier than earlier, and he felt quite hot, even though the sun had began to hide under the dunes. He inspected his sword - again. The sharp blade twisted slightly near the end - like a corkscrew. The young man smiled at this- his sword could crack bones easier. His helmet rested on the bench behind him, prison-like bars the only protection for his face and eyes. His medium length brown hair was well safe, at least, a smooth, thick iron plank curving from the forehead to the back of his neck. His jaw would be exposed below his bottom lip - no worries to him, though. He would not be hit. Yais felt his body begin to sweat. He was becoming increasingly nervous.

    “Son, relax. We’ve never lost a battle before. You’re in good hands.” The veteran beside Yais put his hand on the young man’s shoulder and smiled. “Nothing to fear.”

    Yais gave a nervous glance to the veteran. Rugged, brown skin, and fearsome armour. Engraved on his chest plate were small notches. The veteran noticed Yais bewildered look. “I add one notch for each time we defend this city successfully.”

    The young man grunted. Granted there were a lot of notches, but that did not calm his nerves - it just made them worse. “There must be at least 30. . .”

    “42.” I’ve defended this city for nearly 20 years. One year, we had 15 separate attacks. I’ve got a few scars from that year.”

    Yais turned away from the veteran, not wanting to hear more. He tried to focus on the outlying desert. The dusk gave the sand an eerie glow, but there was no one in sight. He looked behind, only to see other infantries shuffling around, and catapults waiting to be loaded. To his far right, the platoon of archers stood around. Every single angle of the city was protected - there was no surprise attacks on the Undefeatable.

    “Just like old times, eh Frothel?” He heard one soldier say to another.

    To Yais’ left were the lancers, holding their large spears to the sky, waiting patiently. The only men really moving around were the scouts, who had already sent out a few men to see if the armies were nearby. None had returned yet, but that was to be expected. It was quite a distance to run before they could see anything the city could not.

    The young man looked back at his city, which was partially hidden by all the infantry nearby. He could see tops of stone buildings, all beaten yellow by the sand and sun. He shuffled again, nerves starting to relax. The defenders had been waiting nearly four hours with no news, no sightings. Nothing. Yais inspected his shield. It covered his body sufficiently enough, and he noticed his father had engraved his initials into the bottom. YS. Yais Sachelfaya. He smiled to himself, remembering his youthful years with his father. Now. . . they seemed so far away. His reminiscing was interrupted by the same veteran from earlier.

    “So what’s a young kid like you doing on the front line?”

    Yais thought about the question before answering. “I don’t know. I guess the general thought I was good enough.”

    The veteran chuckled to himself. “What’s your name, son?”

    “Yais Sachelfaya.”

    The veteran stared for a moment. “Son of Hans Sachelfaya, the blacksmith?”

    “That’s right.”

    “Hell, son! You’ve got one hell of a father! I fought side by side with that man years ago.” He paused. “One hell of a fighter. He taught me plenty of things that kept me alive in battles.”

    Yais stared at him, vaguely interested in the conversation. At the very least, it kept his mind off the enemies that were approaching. He couldn’t think of anything to say right at this instant, though. The veteran sensed this and filled the silence.

    “My name’s Jorrich.”

    Once again, silence filled the air near the two. Yais prayed for something to happen. The moon was shining over the city, allowing the buildings to create shadows over the fronts. The wind had picked up slightly - the loose sand rolled away from the young man’s boots. His nerves were nearly relaxed. His helmet still rested on the bench behind him. “I think I’ll just sit down.” Yais commented.

    “Suit yourself.” Jorrich turned away and talked to another soldier. Yais sat on the wooden bench, peering down from the small outcropping the front line stood at. It was slightly lower than the other lines. Two, maybe three feet lower. There was no wall protecting them, which was curious considering how frequently the Undefeatable used to be attacked. Nevertheless, it was a long run up to where they stood. So in a way, the elevation was a wall. Yais began to feel tired. It was increasingly boring waiting for this army to show up. He propped his shield up against the bench. Would anyone even notice if he went to sleep? He allowed himself to drift off.
  3. Jazzmosis

    Jazzmosis IncGamers Member

    Dec 12, 2003
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    Suddenly, his body jolted back to alertness. A shout. He grabbed his shield and stood up. The young man looked down the dune to the outcropping desert. Nearby, a scout was hurrying back to the lines. He rushed by Yais and straight to a waiting Colonel. The news could not be good. However, there was still no sign of anything approaching on the desert. The darkness had nearly enveloped the land, the city now being lit by torches. The flames illuminated the desert below, which was then covered by the night sky. Yais searched the valley below, but still could not see anyone coming. He tried to focus on the scout, who was conversing with the Colonel.

    “I smell the scent of battle. . .” Jorrich said from behind.

    Yais whirled around, surprised to see him. He had totally forgotten about the veteran. “What did you say?”

    “I said that the battle is going to begin soon.” Jorrich responded.

    Yais felt his body tense up. “What makes you say that?”

    Jorrich smiled. “The scouts always talk to the Colonels about the size of the approaching army and where they are from. They always run; for some reason, they think it’s important to give us that ten seconds when we have at least 30 minutes after they show up on the desert.” He picked up his silver sword and wobbled it through the air.

    Yais looked at his sword, still clenched in his fist. He was white knuckled, and covered in a sweat he hadn’t felt until now.

    “I wonder how big this army will be. . . a few thousand, I presume. That’s usually the number they send.” The veteran speculated.

    The number seemed reasonable, but Yais wasn’t convinced. “I’ve.. never fought a battle before.”

    Jorrich’s jaw dropped. He saw the young man’s reaction, and quickly composed himself. “Don’t worry kid, I’ll keep you safe. Pretty soon, you’ll be protecting me.” He smiled weakly. “Besides, if you’re on the front line, you’re one of the best this city has got. So don’t be worried, kid.”

    Yais thought about the veteran’s words. It was probably true - he was considered one of the best swordsmen. And he was selected to be on the front line. But there was something uneasy about this whole ordeal.

    The scout stopped talking with the Colonel and hurried off, out of sight. Yais awaited some news, but the Colonel walked off to talk to a general. When was this battle supposed to happen? He turned to Jorrich. But before he could speak, he noticed the weathered warrior staring into the distance. Yais turned to the desert.

    “Oh. . . my. . . lord.”

    “I’ve never seen that. . .”

    Just coming into view on the desert valley was the army. They filled the whole valley, from side to side. The torches they carried filled the night with a terrifying illuminance, which created a stir amongst the soldiers. Although they were too far away to show the actual shape of the creatures, it was clear they were not human. Vicious, non-human cries filled the air. Row after row, the army began to fill the entire valley. Yais trembled as he watched catapults be pushed through the sand. He looked to Jorrich, who was frozen with shock. Turning away from the veteran, the young swordsman saw as the city’s army all stood in awe and fear of the approaching intruders.

    Closer they marched, the Undefeatable’s guards shuffling and readying for battle. There was little conversation, other than curses and prayers.

    “How close are they?” Yais stammered to Jorrich.

    “Probably fifteen minutes away. . .” Jorrich hurried to secure his armour, his fingers shaking violently.

    All action was stopped as a field Colonel bellowed to the Undefeatable’s army. “All right, gentlemen! This will be the greatest attack our fair city has ever received! If you find yourself alive at the end of this fight, then thank the heavens, but know that we will not lose!” The Colonel stopped briefly, thinking of what to say next. “There are roughly 200 000 demons prepared to attack!”

    Yais turned to Jorrich. “How many men do we have?”

    “About 10 000.”

    “Oh hell.”

    The Colonel continued, “We will start by sending a wave of catapult shells! Then, the archers will fire! After this, the front line will engage in attack, along with the lancers! DO NOT BREAK THIS ORDER! The enemies are numerous and are coming from all directions to the city! Just remember one thing! We are the city called the Undefeatable, and we will live to our reputation once again!”

    The city’s forces roared, Jorrich and Yais yelling along with the crowd.

    “Put on your helmets, and prepare for battle!” The Colonel stepped down, walking to the back.

    Yais grasped his helmet tightly in his hands. He stared at it. It seemed so defenceless against the enemies now. He nervously placed it on his head, then grasped his shield he had propped against his leg. The shield was sturdy, and he hoped it would keep him alive. He slipped his arm through the leather strap near the base; then clenched his fist around the handle. He then picked up his sword, which he had propped against his other leg. The sword still looked magnificent, the corkscrew tip still looking deadly. “Keep me alive.” He whispered.

    Jorrich stood, ready for battle. His sword was slightly larger, but he was also slightly taller then Yais. His sword was blue and straight, with an incredibly sharp tip. To Yais’ right, another warrior stood, motionless.

    The approaching army came to the bottom of the long, large hill, and stopped. Invaders stretched far, far back, with catapults situated in the middle of platoons. The beasts were far more visible now, dark skin surrounded by wolf heads. A small cloth around the waist was all they wore - no heavy armour. This was a plus, as it made them easier to penetrate. All Yais had to do was kill twenty. If everyone killed twenty before dying, the city would reign victorious. The invading army was silent, as was the city’s. Yais shook, his nerves rattling his bones. He sweated incredibly, but he did not feel tired. He listened, hearing faint voices from the invaders. From what he could guess, orders were being given. He looked to his far left. The lancers stood, poles pointed down to the enemies. To his right, the archers stood, waiting to fire arrows. Behind him, he assumed the catapults were ready to fire. However, he could not see them.

    “Who will attack first?” Yais whispered to Jorrich.

    “They will. The demons are impatient.” He responded. Behind the lines, he heard a colonel ordering the ammunition to be set on fire. Yais heard the flames crackle, but the young man did not look behind himself. He watched as the enemies’ catapults were loaded and their ammunition set into flames.

    “Do we have any wizards? Or horses?” The young swordsman asked.
  4. Jazzmosis

    Jazzmosis IncGamers Member

    Dec 12, 2003
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    Jorrich turned to him. “We have one wizard, and two sorceresses. They are situated on the other three corners of the city. As for horses. . . we have none. The desert is too harsh for them to survive.”

    Yais nodded and turned his attention back to the invading army. He heard a cry from what he presumed was a colonel.

    “Here it comes. . .” Jorrich whispered, half to himself.

    The enemy’s catapults launched, balls of fire arcing, almost gracefully, through the air. Yais trembled as one ball landed nearby, exploding into a fiery wave. Luckily, it had fallen short of the front line. Other balls, however, had struck the front line to his left. Men screamed in agony, flames ripping through their skin. The screams died into the night sky, eventually becoming a whisper. Yais watched as the city released their catapults, this time their balls of fire striking the intruders armies all throughout. The enemies fired another round - the closest ball striking lines behind the rookie. The heat from a building that had been struck licked the back of his head, but Yais could not feel it. He saw the city retaliate, but then a cry resonated from the enemy. The catapults stopped.

    Jorrich and Yais shifted, watching uneasily as the demons began to climb the hill. Row after row, they stepped closer. The weapons they carried varied from axes to bows. Jorrich piped up. “We’re lucky - we got an axe platoon. I feel sorry for the line getting the archers.”

    Yais looked to his right, the demon archers climbing the hill. They were directly adjacent from the city’s archers. “Why haven’t we fired yet?” He asked.

    “Not close enough. Wait - they will be soon.” Jorrich replied, digging his boot into the sand for grip. Up and up the demons marched, roaring ghastly cries as they came closer. He heard another loud, commanding yell. The invaders began to run. “Get ready, kid. This is it.” The veteran stammered nervously.

    Yais rested his weight on his back leg, pushing it into the sand.

    “Lunge forward when they first hit us.” Jorrich said. Yais nodded.

    The enemies were very close, Yais estimating another thirty seconds until striking. He saw the city’s archers fire, arrows spraying in many directions, including to the platoon approaching the veteran and the young swordsman. One attacker was struck by an arrow, falling to the sand. Yais smirked slightly as the demon behind stumbled over the corpse and fell, creating a brief domino effect.

    “Ten seconds. . .” Jorrich mumbled.

    The intruding archers returned fire, spraying arrows out through the front line. Yais watched as some defenders fell, one only three men from Yais’ standing point.

    “Five seconds. . .” The veteran whispered.

    The platoon of demons approaching raised their axes, ready to strike. The young man’s body tensed, almost feeling unmoveable. He prepared to lunge forward. The rookie picked his first target and pointed his sword to it. His shield covered his chest and neck, leaving enough room to see the sand beneath his boots. More arrows whistled through the air, but he did not see any enemies fall. Staring through the bars of his helmet, Yais watched his target approach.

    A deafening cry jumped from the enemies, as they came within five or six steps. The city’s defenders cried back, Yais screaming as loud as he could, half out of fear. His target pointed his axe at the young swordsman, its dull, black eyes staring into Yais’ deep blue eyes.

    His teeth gritted, his leg ready to spring. The rookie’s eyebrows pointed inwards, his eyes narrowed. His hands gripped his shield and sword tightly, knuckles a bare white. His stomach tightened, although his body as a whole was still quivering. He heard nothing, but Yais assumed he was still screaming. The enemies came close enough for him to lurch forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jorrich lunge forward. He pushed off his back leg, shifting his weight to the front, then beyond. He felt a strong resistance hit him. The corkscrew sword clashed against something hard, then pushed through it. He still had his eyes wide open. Yais’ body slid back, only slightly, before he felt his front foot regain balance. Feeling that his attacker had lost grip, the young swordsman pushed his shield forward, forcing the demon off its feet. A splash of red splattered on his hand, but Yais knew it was not his blood. The demon fell in front of him, causing the rookie to step forward to keep his balance. He remained standing, and began to slash his sword at the new enemies - the first line had hit them, and he was still alive.

    He spotted Jorrich out of the corner of his eye, hacking through the axe-carrying demons. Yais saw an axe swing in his direction. He lifted his shield, listening to the axe scrape down across it. He swung his sword across the demon, slashing open its throat. A sputter of blood stained the corkscrew tip, but the rookie immediately swung it to his side, feeling it rip through another enemy’s stomach. Another demon attacked, the rookie engaging in a fierce battle before knocking the axe out of the invader’s grip. He swung the sword over his head, drawing the corkscrew tip down his foe’s face.

    Jorrich, still fighting, witnessed the rookie’s kill. “Brilliant!” He shouted.

    The axe carrying demons were still storming up the dune, a never ending wave of swinging weapons. From the corner of Yais’ eye there would be an occasional flash of light, the rookie assuming it was the magic of the sorceress.

    Jorrich called to Yais for aid. The young swordsman turned to him, watching as the veteran struggled to hold off five demons. One of the axes dug into Jorrich’s shoulder, causing the warrior to drop his sword. “Rookie!” He screamed.

    Yais began to run to Jorrich, who was only three or four steps away. However, his rescue attempt was stifled. More of the demon platoon had stormed to the front line, Yais barely able to lift his shield in defence before being tackled to the ground. The demon did not hold on, letting the rookie’s body skip once. Yais felt his face grind across the sand. His stomach lay on his shield - but he still held his corkscrew sword tightly in his other hand. He rolled to his back, narrowly avoiding a claw of a passing demon. There was no sight of the enemy that knocked him to the ground; the demon had apparently ran into the city immediately after. There was no enemies rushing up the dune - the axe platoon had finally passed. He looked to his left, watching Jorrich block the attacking demons. The attackers were very close to the fallen rookie; close enough that he slashed through one of the intruder’s ankles. The demon fell to the ground, writhing and screaming a non-human cry.

    Yais climbed to this feet, looking at his injured attacker. He drove his sword down, directly through the demon’s face. The body quivered briefly, a spout of blood splashing over the rookie’s face. He removed the sword and turned to the veteran. Jorrich had just driven his shield through an attacker’s throat, the axe still wedged in his shoulder.

    The rookie stepped beside Jorrich. “I’m here,” he commented.

    Jorrich, still holding his shield, clubbed an attacker with it. The force of the blow was so strong, his shield’s straps snapped. The veteran held on to his metal handle, but when he blocked a low swing, the shield banged against his arm, nearly breaking his elbow. On his right, Yais deflected an separate attack, the axe spraying sand as it collided with the desert floor. The rookie reached out, punching the demon in the stomach. It staggered back, looking up just in time to watch the young swordsman drive his sword into the demon’s chest. Yais felt the intruder’s rib crack and shatter as the corkscrew tip shredded the demon’s torso. He ripped out his sword, blood flowing from the wound.
  5. Jazzmosis

    Jazzmosis IncGamers Member

    Dec 12, 2003
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    Jorrich and Yais each took one of the two remaining enemies. Jorrich ducked under a swing, then drove his uninjured shoulder into the demon. The wolf-like demon screamed, before the veteran smashed his shield across its face. The attacker took one last swipe as he fell, the axe striking Jorrich’s abdomen. The veteran spit blood out his mouth, but refused to die. He ripped the axe out from his shoulder before driving it through the demon’s chest. He raised the axe up again, and buried it into his dead foe’s head. He staggered back and held his stomach.

    Yais clanged his bloodstained sword against the demon’s axe, trying to find an opening for an attack. However, this opponent seemed well skilled, repeatedly blocking any attack the rookie made. The battle raged between these two, before Yais finally managing to kick out the demon’s knee. The wolf-headed creature roared in anguish, falling onto one leg. The young swordsman placed his shield in front of the demon’s axe, then pushed his sword down from over the shield. The corkscrew tip forced its way into the demon’s skull as Yais twisted the hilt around.

    The demon gasped its last breath before becoming another corpse on the sand. Yais looked around him. Beneath him was the abandoned catapults from the invaders. To his right, a few remaining archers fired into the city. There was a few front line soldiers left, but most lay dead in the sand. Those who were alive seemed to be heading into the city. To the rookie’s left, was more corpses, demons and men alike. There was one lancer fending off remaining demons, but he was too far away for Yais to help. And Jorrich stood, hunched over, grasping his stomach tightly.

    “Jorrich!” Yais called, stepping to his aide.

    “I’ll be fine.” The veteran responded.

    “How bad is the wound?”

    “Deep. But I’ll fill it with sand.”

    Yais watched the veteran take handfuls of sand and stuff it into the cut. When the veteran finished, the two turned to look at the Undefeatable. Quiet screams were heard deep in the city, the enemies pillaging the lands. “What should we do?” The rookie asked.

    “You may take your chances in the desert if you want. . . I’m going to add another notch.” Jorrich turned and walked into the city. Not knowing what to do, Yais followed blindly.

    The inside of the city was burning, the creatures tearing apart anything they could grasp. Flashes of sorcery could be seen constantly, but the sand was carpeted by human blood and corpses. Jorrich crept against a wall, sword drawn. He peered around a corner, watching a group of the enemies slaughtering some children. He looked at Yais. “Bastards are killing children!”

    Yais stuttered. “What?”

    “Five on two. . . what do you think?” Jorrich looked deeply at Yais.

    “Dead to the last man.” Yais swallowed his fear, crying out as loud as he could, sprinting at the five creatures. Jorrich roared, flying into the fray.

    Yais pointed his sword and drove it through the first enemy’s torso. He thrust his sword in and out, blood spraying over the sword, armour, corpses, and his face. He turned to Jorrich, who struck down another enemy. Yais turned his attention to the third enemy, who had just stabbed a child. The rookie, sweating terribly, screamed and beheaded the foe. Jorrich slashed his sword across the stomach of the fourth enemy, bringing it back to cut the throat, then knee, then claws. The fifth, seeing that he was outmatched, turned and fled down a pathway. The veteran and rookie exchanged glances, before they raced after the final creature.

    It was not long before they caught the enemy and cut his throat, but as they looked up, both covered in blood. Down the path, they could see the battle continuing, men and demons scuffling. They caught a soldier running by. “The women and children! Where are they?” Jorrich asked.

    “They were sent into the Ancient tunnels, but the bastards are getting in there too!” The soldier ran off, lance in hand. On the roofs of buildings, Yais and Jorrich watched archers fire arrows off in all directions.

    The street they stood on seemed dark, all of the sudden. The veteran stood, feeling weaker then normal. Yais assumed his accomplice was struggling against his wounds, but he knew the veteran would not go quietly. “The city is swimming with these creatures. . .”

    “What do we do?” Asked Yais.

    “Do whatever you like. I’m going to win, or die.” Jorrich pulled out his sword, and began to limp towards a nearby battle. The rookie watched as the veteran walked off, most likely to his doom.

    “Oh. . . what the hell.” Yais bolted after Jorrich, reaching him quickly. “Till death.” The rookie reached out his gloved hand, the veteran staring at it before grasping it tightly.

    “Till death. . .”

    The two rushed blindly into the battle, enemies and allies tangling in all directions. Yais mashed with lanced demons, axe wielding demons, and thanked the heavens when the barrage of arrows missed him. Nearby, he saw Jorrich strike down enemies periodically, blood spraying in all directions. Arrows hurtled into the crowd again, both from allies and demons alike. The rookie watched one of his foes fall in front of him, arrow protruding from its neck. He turned immediately, face to face with another.

    Jorrich cried out as he knocked down an attacker. An arrow had pierced his shield, cutting his hand in the process. One demon attempted to take advantage of the veteran’s temporary weakness, only to be struck in the face by a demon arrow.

    The rookie routinely had to wipe blood from his face, as the red liquid was beginning to pool in the sand. Corpses littered the battleground in the city, but no matter how many demons fell, there seemed to be a never-ending abundance just waiting to jump into the fray.

    Without warning, a flaming ball crashed into the building nearby. Flames licked the streets, the walls of the building collapsing. More balls lit up the sky, all arcing down into the city.

    “They’ve started firing the catapults again!” A warrior screamed.

    Yais had come to that conclusion already, but his main concern was surviving the ensuing battle.

    “Rookie!” A voice called.

    Yais whirled around, watching as Jorrich fell to the sand. “Jorrich!” He cried. The veteran lay on the ground, blood pouring from under his armour. The rookie batted away a foe, then rushed to his side. “Oh hell - oh hell.” Yais couldn’t think of anything else to say.

    “Survive this, kid!” The struggling warrior responded.
  6. Jazzmosis

    Jazzmosis IncGamers Member

    Dec 12, 2003
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    Yais stared at Jorrich as he coughed up blood. The veteran pointed behind the rookie. Yais whirled around, a demon ready to slash him down. He blocked the attack quickly, mashing his shield into the demon’s face.

    Jorrich pushed the young warrior away, struggling to his knees. “Fight, damn it, fight! I will add another notch if it kills me!”

    Yais nodded wearily. The constant attacks had worn him down, and the buildings blazing nearby made it difficult to breathe. The young man forced himself to attack, as the wave of demons continued to pour from virtually every street. The defenders were scarce - and arrows were still flying through the air. Every so often, flashes of bright light could be seen to the south. The catapults continued to reign hell into the city, swallowing lives and buildings. Still, Yais fought off the demons.

    “Undefeatable’s defenders!” A voice called, “we are grossly overmatched! Escape through the Ancient tunnels! The city is gutted!”

    Most of the warriors began to fight their way towards the tunnels, while others decided they would rather die then lose the battle. Yais wanted to leave, but he had a feeling that the Ancient tunnels would not be the way to leave. Jorrich hobbled to the rookie, stammering and spitting blood. “Look kid. . . you can leave if you want. You heard the man.”

    “What about you?” The rookie asked.

    “I’m going to the tunnels - help defend the entrance.”

    Yais nodded to Jorrich, who quickly limped off, occasionally striking down the opposing demons in his way. Yais stood in the same spot, realizing quickly the defenders were dwindling from his surroundings. As most warriors left, so did the demons.

    It was not long before the rookie stood alone, no humans, no demons around. Just blood, corpses and burning buildings accompanied him. Screams could still be heard in the distance, but the rookie stood quietly, pondering what to do. Sighing, he decided to head to the Ancient tunnels. He walked down the dead streets. Buildings were flaming and collapsing nearby, blood staining the sand, arrows piercing dead bodies. . . Yais decided that he should be thankful he was still alive and unhurt. The young warrior had been thrown into the harsh world of battle, and he realized how oblivious he had been to the consequences of keep the city true to its name.

    Yais turned a corner, instantly viewing a mesh of humans and demons alike, scuffling for power. Firmly holding his sword, Yais began to run at the demons. A few demons turned to look at him as the rookie screamed as loud as he could. Much to the young man’s demise, an demon archer saw this and fired an arrow. The arrow struck Yais in the shoulder, the pain causing him to stop yelling. He dropped his sword, his knees buckling and lurching his body into the air. The rookie’s flight was brief, as he quickly smashed face-first into the sand. He knew blood was spilling from his wound, but he forced himself to his feet and grasped his sword once again. He immediately rushed into the fray. He hurtled into a demon, the sand caught in his armour spraying out from the harsh impact. Yais kicked, punched, and slashed any who opposed him, surprising himself at how agile he still was.

    The battle raged for control of the Ancient tunnels, as more human warriors tried to escape through the underground pathways. Yais found Jorrich, still alive, battling the foes.

    Seeing the rookie, Jorrich called him over. Reunited again, the two defenders tried to save other escapees. However, the attempt was cut short when an explosion ripped out from the ground.

    No man nor beast could say a word, as the explosion blew all near the entrance into the air. Jorrich flew high above the dilapited buildings, as the rookie he fought beside had been blown clear of him. Yais had been hurtled backwards, colliding with a stone wall. The veteran arced through the air, eventually shattering the roof of a burning building as he smashed through it.

    Yais coughed blood out from his lungs, pain causing him to wince at virtually every movement he made. His metal armour had cracked from the impact with the wall, but his back surprisingly remained intact. The rookie had no sword or shield, the blast ripping both from his grip and out of sight. Yais, much to his own surprise, had no broken bones. However, bruises littered his body, and he was extremely sore. Forcing himself to his feet, the young man inspected the remains of the city. The explosion had ruined the Ancient tunnels, most likely killing everyone inside. The catapults had stopped firing, only because the entire city had been gutted. Blood stained walls, sand, and armour, and Yais could see body parts scattered across the land. Not a soul moved - the flashes of light from the sorceresses and wizard had stopped. More likely than not, the demons had finally overpowered the magicians and killed them. It had become evident the intruders did not want to control the city - merely destroy it, and every living thing inside it.

    Yais turned a corner, to see a few living demons patrolling the streets. Helpless humans left alive were being killed, so the rookie quickly turned around and limped out of sight. The shoulder wound he had received began to pulsate with pain again, the young warrior grasping it with his free hand as he took cover. To his relief, the demons passed by. Yais slunk away, deciding that he should leave the city. He hustled down the dark streets, occasionally hiding from patrolling demons.

    Jorrich moaned, his bones cracked and broken nearly everywhere. He thought about the rookie, about his wife, his friends. . . he tried to move, but soon realized he could not. Blood was pouring from his body, and he found it difficult to breathe. He heard some chattering outside the dilapated building, chattering that was not human. The veteran did not move until he was sure they were gone. Once again, he tried to move, but was too weak. Jorrich closed his eyes, beginning to accept the truth - he was going to die. Blood began to fill in his lungs, and he did not struggle to stop it. Relaxing his body, Jorrich pushed out his last breath, muttering. “42. . .”

    The defenceless rookie sighed in relief when he reached the outskirts of the Undefeatable. No demons had seen him, and the front lines were covered in bodies. Abandoned catapults could be seen down the sand dune, but nothing moved. “Lut Gholien. . .” he whispered to himself, quickly deciding to go to the nearest city. No doubt, the demons were headed in that direction, but the rookie had to warn someone. Yais began to walk down the dune, before stopping and looking at the city he had called home for his whole life.

    The young man bent down on one knee, removing his helmet and writing two words into the sand. He then stood up, and continued down the dune, grabbing a sword on his way.

    Trying to remain strong, Yais felt a tear run down his cheek. He thought about the words he wrote, but forced himself to not look behind himself.
    As Yais walked away, the soft wind wisped, burying the words Lost City in the sand.

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