Post by xankira on Oct 21, 2013 21:32:47 GMT 10
Title: In the Midst of Battle
Rating: PG-13.
Prompt: Cacophony (#94)
Summary: Battle is such a loud thing.
Notes: Part 2 of 5. Not particularly happy with this, but nothing else seems to work. I’m not particularly sure what Haven’s clerks were supposed to do when they were attacked, so I’m making it up as I go.
--
Battles are such loud things, Zamiel absently noted. I hadn’t noticed.
Feet smacked on the ground as Tobe ran from Headquarters to the stables, those two girls and their straggler behind him. Sir Merric was by the gates, barking orders. The gates creaked and hooves clattered as Sir Merric rode out, his squads behind him. Other refugees had raced to their weapons, eager to defend their grounds. Some may have even called it a home.
Zamiel himself was tucked in a corner between the outer wall and Headquarters. His ears were ringing from the sound. The other clerks huddled against the wall itself. Hildurra stood at the forefront, chin firm while her fellows whimpered. She held a small bow, quiver at her side. Above them, there was a soft twang as archers shot at the oncoming enemy, barely heard above clashing steel. Fanche stood with them, shooting with deadly accuracy and some inventive curses.
The clerks quickly shuffled towards the infirmary, away from the gate. Zamiel took the lead, as he did in administrative duties. Hildurra kept back, arrow to the string.
Screams tore above the group. That sound, that stomach-turning sound of metal scraping against rock. It screeched above all other battle noise and turned faces grey. A clerk ducked as something flew at him from above. He didn’t pause to check what it was.
Behind them, there was a dull, constant thud. Zamiel turned as his clerks scattered. Over there, the gate. With each thud, the gate bent in a bit more. Men stood behind it, trying to hold it closed, but from here Zamiel saw it was hopeless. The thuds had gotten louder, cracks filling the already-sound-polluted air. He turned away just as the gate fell with a booming crash. Scanrans poured through the gap, howling, while killing machines ripped into Havenites from above.
This wasn’t defence anymore: this was fight or die.
Zamiel’s ears filled with noise as ran. Outside the walls, he could hear the horn from Sir Merric’s group getting fainter. Occasionally the crash of metal against metal would be punctuated by a shriek, horse or human.
Not even three metres later he toppled over someone. He raised his fists in front of his face as the person squirmed on top of him, cursing all the while.
“…meatheaded- Master Zamiel!”
“Tobe?”
Tobe jumped up; Zamiel got his feet underneath him. He spoke very, very quickly.
“Tobe, you have to get out! Get word to Lady Kel at Mastiff. Take the tunnel!”
Tobe handed over his bow and quiver, and bent to pull the spear off his back. Behind them, a killing machine was trapped in one of the nets. The scrape of the chain ropes against metal claws sent shivers down his back. Birds screeched as they flew around it, providing a distraction. On the wall, Hildurra and Fanche stood back to back, arrows flying. Tobe straightened as a Havenite smashed the killing machine’s head dome in with an axe, the blow echoing above the sounds of battle.
Zamiel was appalling with a bow, but anything was better than nothing. The noise was beginning to ring in his ears, sending spikes into his brain.
Tobe dashed to the latrine, and to the storage shed beside it. Zamiel was behind him, arrow notched.
“In! Now, Tobe!”
Tobe ducked into the bolt-hole. He looked up when he realised Zamiel wasn’t following.
“I’ll cover you. Go, now!”
Tobe looked to put up a protest, but paused then nodded. He simply left.
As adrenaline poured through his body, Zamiel saw time slow down. A glance above saw Hildurra take two arrows to the chest, Fanche screaming in fury. Lady Kel’s children were doing an admirable job with their spears, but they were far outnumbered and outskilled. A quick turn of the head saw Haven’s civilians being dragged through the gaping hole in the wall. There was a small flash of red, close to the ground.
Zamiel turned and ran, moving towards Headquarters. He could only guess that Sir Merric had been killed or dragged off too far away to assist. That patrol was gone, and no backup. The horn calls had grown fainter and fainter, not that anyone on this end could respond. The clash of steel had started to die down, only to be replaced by the cries and groans of the dying. One final screech of metal to the right saw the end of the final killing device. There was a dull roar as the Infirmary started to burn.
Ears echoing, Zamiel entered Headquarters, finding what seemed to be one of Sir Merric’s spare swords. Better make than army issue, at any rate. He was only marginally better with a blade than with a bow, but he was going to defend this haven if it killed him.
He turned around as feet pounded into the floorboards. The door kicked in to the burly Scanrans. He had no idea what they said. They understood him perfectly fine when he raised his sword, hands shaking. He was vaguely proud when he managed to land a blow before he was downed.
As his lifeblood pooled on his desk, he noted that the ringing had stopped. In fact, the only sound he could hear now was his own heartbeat.
In short time, there was silence.
Rating: PG-13.
Prompt: Cacophony (#94)
Summary: Battle is such a loud thing.
Notes: Part 2 of 5. Not particularly happy with this, but nothing else seems to work. I’m not particularly sure what Haven’s clerks were supposed to do when they were attacked, so I’m making it up as I go.
--
Battles are such loud things, Zamiel absently noted. I hadn’t noticed.
Feet smacked on the ground as Tobe ran from Headquarters to the stables, those two girls and their straggler behind him. Sir Merric was by the gates, barking orders. The gates creaked and hooves clattered as Sir Merric rode out, his squads behind him. Other refugees had raced to their weapons, eager to defend their grounds. Some may have even called it a home.
Zamiel himself was tucked in a corner between the outer wall and Headquarters. His ears were ringing from the sound. The other clerks huddled against the wall itself. Hildurra stood at the forefront, chin firm while her fellows whimpered. She held a small bow, quiver at her side. Above them, there was a soft twang as archers shot at the oncoming enemy, barely heard above clashing steel. Fanche stood with them, shooting with deadly accuracy and some inventive curses.
The clerks quickly shuffled towards the infirmary, away from the gate. Zamiel took the lead, as he did in administrative duties. Hildurra kept back, arrow to the string.
Screams tore above the group. That sound, that stomach-turning sound of metal scraping against rock. It screeched above all other battle noise and turned faces grey. A clerk ducked as something flew at him from above. He didn’t pause to check what it was.
Behind them, there was a dull, constant thud. Zamiel turned as his clerks scattered. Over there, the gate. With each thud, the gate bent in a bit more. Men stood behind it, trying to hold it closed, but from here Zamiel saw it was hopeless. The thuds had gotten louder, cracks filling the already-sound-polluted air. He turned away just as the gate fell with a booming crash. Scanrans poured through the gap, howling, while killing machines ripped into Havenites from above.
This wasn’t defence anymore: this was fight or die.
Zamiel’s ears filled with noise as ran. Outside the walls, he could hear the horn from Sir Merric’s group getting fainter. Occasionally the crash of metal against metal would be punctuated by a shriek, horse or human.
Not even three metres later he toppled over someone. He raised his fists in front of his face as the person squirmed on top of him, cursing all the while.
“…meatheaded- Master Zamiel!”
“Tobe?”
Tobe jumped up; Zamiel got his feet underneath him. He spoke very, very quickly.
“Tobe, you have to get out! Get word to Lady Kel at Mastiff. Take the tunnel!”
Tobe handed over his bow and quiver, and bent to pull the spear off his back. Behind them, a killing machine was trapped in one of the nets. The scrape of the chain ropes against metal claws sent shivers down his back. Birds screeched as they flew around it, providing a distraction. On the wall, Hildurra and Fanche stood back to back, arrows flying. Tobe straightened as a Havenite smashed the killing machine’s head dome in with an axe, the blow echoing above the sounds of battle.
Zamiel was appalling with a bow, but anything was better than nothing. The noise was beginning to ring in his ears, sending spikes into his brain.
Tobe dashed to the latrine, and to the storage shed beside it. Zamiel was behind him, arrow notched.
“In! Now, Tobe!”
Tobe ducked into the bolt-hole. He looked up when he realised Zamiel wasn’t following.
“I’ll cover you. Go, now!”
Tobe looked to put up a protest, but paused then nodded. He simply left.
As adrenaline poured through his body, Zamiel saw time slow down. A glance above saw Hildurra take two arrows to the chest, Fanche screaming in fury. Lady Kel’s children were doing an admirable job with their spears, but they were far outnumbered and outskilled. A quick turn of the head saw Haven’s civilians being dragged through the gaping hole in the wall. There was a small flash of red, close to the ground.
Zamiel turned and ran, moving towards Headquarters. He could only guess that Sir Merric had been killed or dragged off too far away to assist. That patrol was gone, and no backup. The horn calls had grown fainter and fainter, not that anyone on this end could respond. The clash of steel had started to die down, only to be replaced by the cries and groans of the dying. One final screech of metal to the right saw the end of the final killing device. There was a dull roar as the Infirmary started to burn.
Ears echoing, Zamiel entered Headquarters, finding what seemed to be one of Sir Merric’s spare swords. Better make than army issue, at any rate. He was only marginally better with a blade than with a bow, but he was going to defend this haven if it killed him.
He turned around as feet pounded into the floorboards. The door kicked in to the burly Scanrans. He had no idea what they said. They understood him perfectly fine when he raised his sword, hands shaking. He was vaguely proud when he managed to land a blow before he was downed.
As his lifeblood pooled on his desk, he noted that the ringing had stopped. In fact, the only sound he could hear now was his own heartbeat.
In short time, there was silence.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!