Assualt on the Dark Jewel - Solo emne. (Del 1, the Moat)

Rotley Murkmaws gloomy villa-fortress laid ahead. The Dark Jewel.

Its wall was standing tall and imposing.
Its outer barricade covered in the foreboding family logo: a blood-stained skull with an obsidian crown

Upon the ramparts stood cantankerous soldiers.
their armor had a silvery shine,
their helmets was smithed into that of screaming faces, leaving a terrorfying frozen impression as the only image their enemies would see of their faces.

They spears had fishhook like ends, with a threatening black tip

and their swords had religous prayers in a ancient tongue,
as a statement of loyalty to a dead god of a forgotten cult.

They stood sluggish, as if only mostly alive.
their steps was heavy and their hands twisted as if their fingers was broken.

their dead gazes scanned the horizon.
prepared and vigilant yet still physcially uncoordinated.

but as a squirrel climbed onto ramparts,
a howling sound of almost reanimated vigor, came out of the nearest guards mouth.

his steps become coordinated. his body picked up speed.
he lunged out at the tiny squirrel, putting all of his body weight into a decisive strike.
Swinging his sword as if his entire beings happiness,
depended on the total and utter destruction of the squirrel

his sword split the squirrel in two pierces, with the same extreme prejudice he would any intruder.

The guard then dropped to his knees. tearing off his own helmet.
freeing himself of the fake image of a screaming distorted face, which was melted into the metal of the helm.
ar so one would think.
but instead, once his metal skin was shead and left to bang against the cold stone of the rampart,
his own face became plain and visible. a horror-show of a mangled and disfigured face.

In fact, his helms screaming face imagery, was an almost exact replica of his real face.
the helm was clearly a mockery. a unflattery reminders of the mans fate.
an eternal depiction of his suffering and indignification.
an immortal proof of the depth he had fallen into.
An portrait in steel of the humiliations he had to endure.

The man munched with chipped teeth in the flavorful innards of the dead squirrel.
he let his face drench in the juicy drippings of the guts,
as his teeth was mining deeper and deeper into the meal of the year.  

he other guards seemed envious but unresponsive. they did not steal away his meal.
but the lingering gazes and daydreaming twitching of the mangled fingers,
implied their thoughts was preoccupied of envying him.

Each other guard, with their own unique-looking screaming-face helm,
looking directly at the feasting collegue.


But soon the guards would be tested by trial of clashsing steel,
because the mercenary group Slaught, hid nearby,
observing the daunting fortress from behind a natural rock formation.

lead by Mazikeen. The -again- undisputed leader of Slaught.
This time Slaught was in their full number.
Each strike team hiding in the natural enviroments around the fortress, lead by members that Mazikeen trusted.

The first line of defense, for Mazikeen to overcome, was not the ghoulish guards,
but a moat filled to teh brim with mud.
The mud looked harmless and unsuspicious, but Mazikeen assumed it was to slow down intruders, so the guards had time to find their bows and fire down at them.

but then why did the guards not have bows then?
they was only equipped with fishhook spears and cult swords.

So Mazikeen reconsidered the muds function. and presumed it was a danger in itself, and not just a time-consuming obstacle.
but with no good alternative, charging over it, might just be the option.

Ofcause sneaking in, a small strike-team was also an option.
but since Mazikeens failed atempts at kidnapping Juniper,
Mazikeens endless selfconfidence, might not be so endless,
making the mistake of being alone and unsupported,
where she should just have instigated a full-scale assault.  

Mazikeen mind was already made up: Attack.
Slaught was not somebody to easily to faulter, and a direct assault was right up their alley.
It would be playing to the mercenaries strenght, by taking the direct method.

A ceaseless assault, reckless and powerful, would win the day.
Not repeating her greatest humiliation. at the hands of Juniper.... the smooth hands... the smile-inducing touches they can give... the decadent lust they can inflict... the bodily ecstasy... the breathtaking pleasure...

Mazikeen dragged herself from the abyss,
from which her gay daydreams about Juniper,
had festered into the most encumbering fantasies of lesbian delight,
that she gleefully got lost in,
like a sea of curvy rapture, she bathed in with intense enthusiasm.

Mazikken wrote a message on a pierce of parchment and gave it to Skeppe.
The fattest and most bearded member of Slaught.
He looked like a bush of fur hiding ontop a series of mountains made of bulging flesh.
Skeppe nodded with smug confidence, before he transformed.

Skeppe was a shapeshifter, just like most other members of Slaught.
He turned into a mole and unseen dug in way around the landscape, escaping detection.
informing the different segments of Slaught of the plan, who was not hiding behind the same stone as Mazikeen.

The plan was simple: Everything at once.

Just like a tsunami, Slaught was good at assualt plans with involved breaking enemies defenses, by applying simutainous pressure to all aspects of the enemies defenses,
thereby overwhelming them.

To achieve this goal, three points of tactical entry was done.
At the exact same time.

The first was Skeppe.
Skeppe would use his mole prowess to dig a tunnel.
the tunnel dug would not provide entry to big burly warriors.
but it would be a entry for their smaller transformed forms.
not all members of Slaught could transform into cute little critters like spiders, mice, weasels or moles.

but a good surprise attack from inside the walls, enabled the underground menance to using controlled burnings to sow chaos and panic.
using confusion and chaos to degrade enemy soldiers into disorganized amateurs.  

the secound tactical manuver was Skeppi, Skeppas girlfriend and sister.
she was a hawk and lead Slaughts flying batallion. blackbirds. hawks. owls. ravens and flying insects.

they would fly high and suddenly attack the walls defenses.
seperate any potensial archers from their advantage of being securely placed on the walls,
disrupting the defenders plans of firing at intruders.

The flying batallion would also make sure, that the main forces placed ladders would not just be kicked off the walls by the defenders.

the last part of this three stage tactical entry, was the ground forces.
the main force would storm in and reinforce their comrades.
using ladders to climb the walls.


Slaught members core trait, was their battle prowess and ruthless fighting styles.
and Mazikeen was eager to cross blades with Rotley.

Mazi said a small silent prayer to the sin of Wrath to fill her with merciless rage.
then a small general prayer in silent reflection to all of the seven sins.
because although she was a warrior and thereby should be driven mostly by Pride and Wrath,
she was also taught that the other sins should be venerated,

because not all people was warriors,
and there was sins for all jobs in society.
and therefore should all jobs in society venerate the sins.

then Mazikeen did a small prayer to the Wolf-Mother and Rhino-King
Slaughts two patron gods of shapeshifting, two twins joined in divinity.

then a fourth prayer was spared for Fenrer,
not as a concept as the Sin,
or as a deity, as the Twins,
but as a symbol of power and independence for all shapeshifters.

With her prayers said. her plan fixed. her body ready. her mind set.
Mazikeen jumped atop the rock formation.
Letting out an intimidating roar,
like a hellish banshee of war-god tenacity
"SLAUGHT... SLAUGHTER!"

Mazikeeen stod with her dads.. no.. her broad sword raised high.
She had not fully felt like Slaughts leader.
even before Junipers humilation.

but as the thunderous and deafening warcries of Slaughts combined forces,
was ringing in the fields and in the skies,
she could almost feel her dad passing her the mantle.
she finally felt the title rang true. SHE was Slaughts leader.

Hell broke loose. the fortress guards stood witness to a carnage of unrivaled mania.
they could see the villas outhouses, sheads, front door and animal pens bursted instantainously into flame.
but before their ghoulish head could react, fell claws of predator birds upon them.

The sky betallion landed with hammers in crushing smashes.
Axes in decapitating slices.
swords in thrusting manners, enhanced by gravitys force.

everything was going great. until it was not.
Mazikeen ordered some of the ladders to form bridges over the suspicious moat mud.
She thought that this tactic could mean, that the mud would be traversed with ease,
or atleast at a quick enough pase to support their pioneering allies.

But despite the ladders not even touching the mud,
the moat proved to be more tricky, than anticipated.

Slaughts members wasted no time jumping on the ladders.
they rushed fearless forward. battle-ready and wrath-loud.

but then, the first Slaught member on the moat.
Hickle, a man who could cleave the head straight off a mammoth,
could see a small red eyed Glutton Sprite, leaping out of the brown sludge.

Glutton Sprite was small humaniods, no larger than a finger.
they had wings. sharp teeth. and lived in swamps, deep mud and piles of rot.
they was vicious carnivores and was extremely agressive. - and hungry.

Hickle could feel the first inconsequential bite at his ankle, the small bugger barely piercing the roug leather.
but Glutton Sprites are pack animals.
and soon a swarm of territorial carnivores was practically spawned out of the thick mud.

Hickle could feel his eyes being a delicous point of entry for the small pricks.
they ferouciously ate his eyes, tiny bite per tiny bite.
they then used his empty eye holes as a entry to the rest of his meaty bits.

but his eyes was not the only snack the swarm saited their devouring urges with, his nails, finger flesh and hands was chipped off him like pierce of a marabou chokolate bar, being ripped and teared.

his once blond lush hair was stuffed into into the Sprites chewing mouths,
and his body became disfigured hideiously as he tried to scream in agony, while the critters made a meal of his gums and tongue.

Hickle fell down into the mud.
his chewed up body unable to support him balacing on the ladder.
hell, once the Sprites was done gulping up his ankles, he would not even have kept his balance on a sturdy and even floor.

The mud seemed to slow the Sprites down. focusing on eating the invading meat source, before juming up to new victims.

Mazikeen saw an issue. her fighteres was tough. battlehardned. and epic.
slaught rarely feared death,
but death was still an unpleasent poposition in even the best of ways.

and death was most certainly not offered in its best form,
if devoured alive by tiny finger-sized mud living sprites.

and Slaught members was taught warriors should be prideful and seek self-glorification, so while many of the romantized the idea of dying, it was always in a badass fashion,
either for their comrades,
or fighting for their believes,
or spitting in the face of their soon-to-be killer,
or other way, what was not being turned into tiny poops, after being used as the worlds tiniest tapas plate.

Mazikeen did notice, that a couple of her people came succesfully over to the other side, while the Sprites was busy eating the remains of Hickle.
but once the little bastards had finished their take-away, they came back for more.

Mazikeen knew, that this would slow down traffic over the ladders.
which would reduce the pressure put on the fortress defenders,
because her people would come in more digestible chunks,
rather than almost all at once.

ofcause people would die. but she was more concerned with the speed of the troops,
which would be crucial for success, and thereby crucial for how many people she overall would lose.

She contemplated pushing one of her people down the mud. the bigger the better.
and do that on even intervals, so she mathematically would lose the least amount of people.

Mazikeen saw Lorkdrick, a man she knew turns into a elephant when transformed into his animal form.
She really liked him, he always had the best campsite jokes, and he was one of her big supporters in the conflict over leadership with Sven,
and he always had her back, when her dad or others gave her crap over being a woman and warrior at the same time.  
but the mission was more important than the man.
she would not afford to be emotional, that was not how a slaught leader acted, and each minute she hesitated, her people on the inside of the walls would fight and die.  

She could not just push him however. well. she could.
but moral would be better, if he jumped.
and she was not a person who ignore the importance of moral.

She considered her options. fast. time was a precious resource.
A discret dagger to the back. rupture the lower half of his lung.
most people was preoccupied looking at the moat, or focusing on the battle.
a japping dagger could go unnoticed.

he would have less than two minutes conscious.
before he would drown in his own blood internally.
but that would be enough time to inform him, that he is a dead man walking,
that he can either jump in the mud while screaming something heroic,
dying as a man sacrificing himself for his fellow Slaught members,
instead of just falling down and dying from internal bleeding,
with no great story for the guys to share about him.
no songs would be dedicated to him.
no one would talk about him as the grand hero of the battle of Murkmaw Fortress.
or call him the scourge of Rotley.

Mazikeen could also pinch hin heartstrings. tell him of how great of a hero he would be, if he sacrificed himself for their safe passage.
but such a thing would be less likely to succed. and Mazikeen could hear her dads voice, tell her to do what a warrior would do.

Mazikeen could sacrifice herself, but her bearform might be big. but once she turned, she would go berserk, and its unlikely the sprites could bite though her fur.
and then she would just walk up as a bear and attempt to kill her own soldiers.

and in her human form, she would not be the kind size, to satisfy the sprites for long.

She gave Lorkdrick a pad on the back, signaling her need to talk with him.
normally a Slaught member would not want to talk, while in a active battle,
but Mazi was the leader of the clan, and therefore she might need him for tactical purposes, so he did not disgree.
they quickly went a little away from eye-shoot of the average soldier.

"I need you to regroup with Skeppi once we cross the ladder"
Lorkdrick nodded. he turned around to rejoin the people trying to get across the moat.

Mazikeen detached her dagger from her sleeve sheath.
placed the edge in bewteeen the weak spots in his armor, where the plates would not protect his lungs.
she wrapped her hand around his mouth, so he would not make noise, then she stabbed him in the back.

"You are dead now. Turn to an elephant. Jump in. Be a hero. or die like a bitch.
as a friend I love and respect you"

Mazikeen meant the last thing. but she needed to save as many Slaught members at possible.

"You truely are your fathers daughter"

Lorkdrick ran with gasping pain in the direction of the moat. he jumped high into the air, while shouting so highly that even the gods sitting in the clouds and the lords below could here him.
he hoped his words was heard by the Twin gods.
"For my brothers! No fear!"

He turned into a elephant before he landed in the moat, and he then saved many many Slaught lives, because the feast the Sprites got, kept them very busy.

Now. all that was next. was the guards and ofcause Rotley himself.
because no way, Murkmaw had more nasty surprises of his caliber of his sleeve. right?