The Unholy Legions of Anti-Sanctus Chaotica, a Warhammer Online Destruction Regiment, The Fall of Anlec part II

Just as it appeared that the Cold One knight's had severed their infantry from the Elven army with surgical precision, bolts of lighting and balls of flame roared out from the midst of the Elven army. Sorcerous globules of fire colliding with the Cold Ones in a brilliant display of color and symphony of screaming pain. The Cold Ones line disintegrated into chaos, charging off in any direction that they could to escape the wizardry of the elves. Many ran directly into the Elven lines, wreaking great havoc amongst the disciplined Elven troops, but in doing so sealing their own fate. Some rampaged through the retreating Druchii infantry, destroying their own in an attempt to escape. The infantry was in full route now, but they were moving too slowly. Melthinas' window of opportunity was rapidly closing.

With a shrug and salute to the men about to die, he signalled the Reapers.

Zemok cursed his ill luck. The caltrops he had planted on the left flank had successfully hindered the Elven cavalry long enough for the Cold Ones to make short work of them, and his sorcerer’s had likewise successfully countered the first barrage of wizardry from the Elves. The second volley from the wizards of Hoeth, however, was too much for the small cadre of overtaxed sorcerers at Zemok’s disposal.

Their magic had hammered the Cold One regiment, utterly destroying most of them, and sending the rest into a blind panic. Thankfully, some of the stupid creatures had carried their riders into the midst of the Elven army, wreaking chaos upon them. Unfortunately, many of the monstrous beasts had turned the other way, riding through his infantry and destroying what semblance of organized retreat that they had.

He knew that Melthinas needed to launch the Dragonsfire from the Reapers soon, and he also knew that the cold-hearted bastard would only wait so long before unleashing the devastating attack.

Zemok spurred his horse into the fray, the looks of dismay on the faces of his standard bearers and small retinue of cavalry almost comical as he rode past them. He yelled for the pale eyed sorcerer to follow in his wake, and he did so without showing the slightest bit of care for what would surely be his death.

Zemok shouted a command over his shoulder to the sorcerer and pointed to the center of the Elven line, where one of the Elven commanders was leading a spearhead wedge of cavalry into the chaotic mess of the Druchii lines.

Zemok’s guard began forming an impromptu wedge about him as bolts of sizzling energy hissed past Zemok’s head from behind and exploded into the Elven wedge formation. Several of the Elves went down screaming as the arcane missiles exploded into them.

The dread Disciple howled in ecstasy at the bloodshed ensuing and drew forth his blades, directing his steed with subtle nudges of his knees and thighs. The first two Elven knights went down before they knew what hit them. Quick slashes of Zemok’s blades taking them through the throat, another going down after Zemok directed a guttural stream of ruinous words at him, using Khaine’s will to rupture his flesh and send agonizing pain searing through his limbs.

For a moment, Zemok lost track of events as he desperately battled for his life, trying to buy his infantry a moment of time to organize and disengage. He hacked at any piece of exposed flesh he saw, be it Elven or equine and uttered ruinous spells towards his enemies to sap their strength and will as he slashed and stabbed madly with his swords. He took a few hits, though how many and how serious he could not say.

Several minutes later his small band of cavalry broke the Elven wedge, and he saw most of the remaining Druchii infantry double timing it back to the breached gates of Anlec.

Just as a small grin of relief began to etch itself onto the Dread Disciple’s blood spattered face, he heard the tell tale bang of the Reaper Bolt Throwers launching their deadly cargo.

“Son of a motherless whore!” Shouted Zemok as he bellowed out commands to his remaining retinue to retreat. The commands were hardly needed, as everyone present knew what the loud bang of the Reapers meant.

The Elven King sat stoically atop his steed watching the battle unfold. The Druchii were done for, he knew, but this last ditch battle was beginning to frustrate him. The damned Dark Elves simply would not give up. They knew all was lost, yet they would fight to the last breath.

They had finally broken the infantry and sent them into retreat. The Dark Elf Commander had just led a last desperate foray against his cavalry himself in order to buy time for the remnants of his troops to retreat. He had to admit he was impressed with the Dark Elf’s cunning and bravery, but none the less, he would die. He had him in his grasp now. Soon this would be finished and he could finish his task and raze the abomination the Dark Elves called Anlec to the ground.

He signalled one of his Lieutenants to lead in the reinforcements to capture or kill this Dark Elf commander before he could rejoin his troops. Just as the cavalry charged in and nearly reached the retreating dark elf force, and the shadow warriors withering bow fire had nearly decimated the Druchii commanders retinue, he heard the loud bang of the Druchii Reapers. He looked up curiously, wondering what they thought the ballista bolts would do against his cavalry.

His eyes widened in horror as he saw the telltale gleam of pale green fire streaking towards the Druchii commander as well as the cavalry he had just sent to battle. Muttering curses under his breath he desperately signalled his troops to fall back. He cursed the Druchii lack of regard for life. Only their unadulterated hatred would allow them to fire such a weapon amongst their own troops.

Zemok fell forward against his steed’s neck with a grunt of pain as a shadow warrior’s arrow managed to sink deep into the back of his shoulder through the joint of his pauldron. He spared a glance to his left in time to see one of the Druchii cavalrymen take an arrow through his neck and fall lifeless from his saddle. Bellowing a curse at the Elves he spurred his mount to greater speed, trying to put as much distance between himself and the Reaper’s target as possible. He saw the pale green glow of the Dragonsfire streak past on his left, and a moment later the world exploded into brilliant flames of emerald green as he was lifted from his horses saddle by the force of the explosion and thrown forward. He hit the ground with a blinding flash of pain and then all went dark.

The Elven King screamed in pain as he was blinded by the brilliant green blast of Dragonsfire that exploded into his Cavalry and the remaining Druchii soldiers before him. In a flash, they were all gone. Everything for a hundred yards before him was nothing but scorching emerald flame. Where before the mighty Elven cavalry and some of his best commanders had battled was nothing but molten ground and searing flame.

He blinked the tears of pain from his eyes as his vision slowly returned. Even this far back from the blast, the intense heat could be felt and he had to retreat nearly fifty yards before the unbearable heat lessened.

Melthinas shielded his eyes with his hand as the Dragonsfire bolts exploded into the Elven forces,
Destroying nearly a thousand cavalry in an instant. It appeared that the meager Druchii force that had been retreating had been caught up in the explosion as well, but no matter. They had served their purpose.

The remaining infantry and cavalry were straggling through the broken gates even as the emerald flame of Dragonsfire began dying down on the field. By his estimate he had a good twenty minutes or so before the Elven forces were at the walls. A pity he didn’t have more of the Dragonsfire bolts in reserve.

He quickly shouted down orders to the beleaguered soldiers, and they made preparations for the next phase of the battle plan. Soldiers bustled about, laying down caltrops, shallow pits and whatever else they could think of to hinder the Elven advancement.

The remaining sorcerers conferred on how best to stall the Ulthuan forces, while the remaining troops ensured everyone knew the proper lanes of retreat, so as to avoid the pitfalls created for the Elven army.

The Reapers were turned, for the first and last time, towards Anlec itself, the remaining Dragonsfire bolts loaded, and the timed release devices set. Melthinas decided to move his archer’s back to the rear of the keep, rather than keeping them on the walls as originally planned. No need to waste good soldiers, besides, the traps and the Beast Masters should keep the Elves at bay long enough.

The Elven king swore his unending revenge upon the Druchii and all of their kin for what they had done. Even as the flames of the Dragonsfire died down to flickering embers of pale green, he ordered his infantry onward towards the keep for the final assault.

Interestingly enough, there did not seem to be any defenders upon the wall. Perhaps they had fled already. Something was not right with this situation, but he ordered his troops onward impatiently.

He knew he only faced the rearguard of the Druchii army here, and that the true battle was already won, but he could not pursue the main force until he disposed of the rearguard. He could not have them at his back while he chased the main army all the way back to Naggarond.

With a hatred that would make a Druchii proud, he swore that he would do everything in his power to annihilate the Druchii once and for all, and rid the world of their ruinous taint.

A glowing nimbus of pale green light surrounded him. Muffled bits of sound floated about his consciousness, and he wondered where he was. There was something he should be doing, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care, much less attempt to move.

Something sharp and annoying kept prodding at him. He could now feel his body, much to his regret. As he slowly came back to consciousness he could feel the searing heat of flame, and every inch of his body screamed at him in agonizing pain.

As Zemok slowly admitted to himself that he was not yet dead, he wondered how close to dead he actually was. From the way his body felt he had most likely broken several ribs, and there was an agonizing pain in his left shoulder. His head felt like someone had used it for a drum and his breath came in short gasps. His left arm refused to move.

He attempted to open his eyes and saw nothing but the same pale green nimbus that seemed to surround everything. He gave up and closed his eyes again, and simply waited to die.

The annoying pain he kept feeling in his side repeatedly kept him from slipping into blissful darkness, and with a grunt of annoyance he opened his eyes again, painfully turning his head to the side. His vision swam drunkenly, slowly coming into focus.

When he could see clearly again, he saw the pale eyes of the sorcerer regarding him coolly, the nightmarish scene behind him backlit with an eerie green glow.

With a start he remembered where he was, and wondered how he still lived as he painfully forced himself to a sitting position, snarling through the pain of it.

“Good, you live. Get up. We must leave this place.” The sorcerer said as he rose to his feet and brushed off his robes. Somehow, he seemed to be in one piece, with the exception of the right sleeve of his robe being burned through in several spots. Upon closer examination, it appeared he was favoring his arm a bit, though his face did not show a bit of pain upon it.

“How…what..” Zemok slurred through the pain in his face. ‘Bloody Hell!’ he thought to himself. ‘Just how badly did I hurt myself, and how the hell am I still alive through that?’

The sorcerer sighed with impatience. “Yes, we lived through the explosion. We were far enough away for that at least. I dragged you over behind this boulder afterwards. I cannot carry you farther. You must get up now. We need to leave, the Elves will be advancing soon and Melthinas has already initiated the next phase of the defense.”

Zemok blinked slowly, his pain filled mind slowly comprehending just where he was and what was going on. With a feral snarl he uttered a sibilant string of unintelligible words and the wounds on his body slowly began to mend themselves. When he was healed more or less, he did the same for the sorcerer and then tiredly nodded to him. “Let us be off then. I do not intend to die here today. Who else is left?”

“Only us, Dread Disciple.” Said the sorcerer in his flat emotionless voice.

Zemok uttered a brief curse and nodded. “Very well then, lets be gone from this place.”

So ends part II of the fall of Anlec. Damn, is this a long story or what? At any rate…we are far from finished here.

And I thought this would be a quick one or two page story, heh.