The Tower in the Shadows

The King of Nygar made his decision and released a proclamation.

He ordered the abandonment of the city.

The current King of Nygar was a proud man, but his greatest virtue was that he was a practical man. He realised that the city could not withstand what was coming, but made an excellent trap. Many within his court were shocked at his instructions, but they were obeyed.

Across the city in the night, many of the nobles had already realised that the city was doomed and started to evacuate. This had spread to the merchant and artisan classes, and they began to prepare to evacuate. The poor quickly got wind, and the panic started.

The gates to the West have remained sealed, as have the ones to the east. Only the North and South gates were permitted for evacuation. And the dawn of the day after the fall of Castin, the city's criers announced the proclamation to the population. The only reason the city did not erupt into a conflagration of violence and looting was the presence of numerous military units within the city.

This did not stop the desperate or insane, but they were quickly suppressed.

People had to move fast as the horde approaching the city was already moving again.

The King of Nygar sent messages across the world, and the word of the Pantheon backed his requests. By now, the horde had been able to be tracked more efficiently, and many of the most powerful Seers of the world had penetrated the shroud around them. The full extent and horror of the horde had now been revealed, and more drastic action needed to be taken.

The horde was moving too fast to be targeted by the great spells of destruction that many nations had. They did slow down when they assaulted Castin, but there was no other fortified city between there and the capital. The King decided that he was going to sacrifice his great city to stop the horde.

Volunteers would be called upon to man the defences long enough to draw in the void corrupted. Once they were assaulting the centre of the city, the world would unleash its most powerful magics upon this place. The scale and nature of what would be released would poison the land and twist it in a different way from that of the void. It would take centuries to repair, but all realised that this was what needed to be done.

Across the world, nations centred these most terrible spells upon the city of Nygar.

Within the city, the population was fearful yet on the move. The evacuation was slow going, for only two of the great gates were open, but the King refused to open the Eastern gates to those who called upon him to do so. He pointed out that the horde was heading in that direction, and anyone who fled that way would be consumed by it if it passed through the city and the spells you are planning to release here.

No, his decision stood that only two gates were allowed to be used for evacuations.

Another report had arrived and had been confirmed. This one disturbed him far more than any other he had heard and was only known to a handful within his inner circle. The horde was growing.

As they moved, they represented one of the most significant concentrations of void corruption this world had ever seen. Those not killed outright or nearby as they passed were changed as the horde moved. Most died in horrific manners, but many survived and were twisted beyond recognition, joining the horde in its migration.

They left a trail of corruption behind them, and the communities that had come before them, between the ruins of Castin and Nygar, were evacuating as best they could, but many were falling silent as the horde moved. The military units that occupied this land between the two cities had been ordered to head north and south to avoid the main bulk of the monsters. They were ordered to help the kingdom's civilians to the best of their ability, protecting them from raiders and bandits.

Some of the King's closest and wisest advisers had told him that they would be fighting the twisted for decades, if not centuries, after this terrible event. Watching the progress of the horde across the map, he was well convinced of their predictions.

There were reports from further West that confirmed this, indicating that the lesser twisted, remaining behind, was still trying to follow the horde. Still, a few had attempted to establish their areas of influence. The few remaining military units were doing their best to contain the situation and save as many as possible.

The night arrived with terrible speed. The King and his advisers are still awake through the night, issuing orders and receiving updates.

The most recent projections indicated that the horde would arrive just after midday the following day. When he received the information, the King ordered that the city's evacuation be accelerated to the best of the army's ability, but they too had to start leaving.

He put out a call for volunteers to remain. He announced to his court that he would stay to lead them.

Most voiced their opposition to this, but he ignored them, standing before his eldest son. He was a man in his mid-20s with a family of his own; now, he hoped for another decade or two to help season him, but fate had other ideas. He handed him the Royal Crown and sword. His son protested, but the older man put his hand on the younger man's shoulder to quiet him and told him that this was the way it must be.

With this symbolic transfer of power, he issued one last decree. The Royal Court were to evacuate.

By the end of the second day, most of the city's population had fled. The nobles were gone. The merchants and scholars were gone. The Artisans and guilds were gone. Most of the poor were gone. A few remain behind, thinking they can weather the storm and claim territory for themselves in the aftermath.

Barely five out of every hundred soldiers that were once here remained. They manned key positions on the outer walls and the inner Royal Keep. The King walked the empty halls of his fortress and palace, noting the few guards and servants that remained. They were all old and knew what was ahead of them. The rest were gone.

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As he walked in, he carried a spell rod in his hand. To trigger the spell within it, he had to break it, and the spell would be unleashed. It was an item from the old Empire and one of the few city-killing spells they possessed. His family had inherited it with the collapse of the Empire. The generations they had hoped would never use it are using it today.

Once activated, it would serve as a means to target the horde, complemented by other spells from across the world. His great city would be the site of one of the most significant concentrations of magical, destructive power in any age known or to be known, maybe.

As he walked, he recalled the conversation he had just had across a message scroll with a young Lord far to the east and the mountains. They all knew the ultimate destination of the horde, and he had spoken to the ruler of the city where it was going. He could tell the young man was at a loss as to what to say. How do you address a king on the brink of destroying his own life and capital?

He had parted a few words which he hoped would serve the young man well in his life and be a source of wisdom for him. He was not angry. He didn't rage at the injustices of the world. He just felt empty and tired.

The only thing he was sure of was the resolve within him to see what needed to be done through.

Too much had to be abandoned and left behind; so much culture, history, and treasure was to be lost. Here and there, members of the Royal household staff would still be trying to say what they could. The majority was to be lost, which saddens him even more.

He continued to walk.

A few of the old cooks had remained behind. He had issued orders in the night that the staff would gather in the great Hall upon the dawn light, and they would feast together with the King. Many were unsure, but they all arrived at the great Hall, where they found a lavish banquet that the cooks had prepared for them overnight. They, too, and the King called upon the rest of the kitchen staff to join them.

The kingdom thanked them for their service and gave those who still wished to leave time to go. A few went, but the majority stayed.

The last two days had passed in a blur, but now time seemed to drag painfully slow.

A handful of the Royal Guard had remained with the King. None was with him, but all manned the walls now. The Royal Keep was sealed, but the gates to the north and the south remained open to allow those last few stragglers time to get away. The city's Lord Commander had remained and had counselled the King to leave them open, as there were not enough soldiers and the battlements to protect the city. What remained of the garrison was now moving to the Western Wall, as that was where the assault would take place.

By the third hour after dawn, a great quiet had settled upon the city. Those who are left quietly wait. There were no songs, no jokes, no speeches, just the waiting. They have said all that needs to be noted in the time leading up to this day. Some quietly wish they could have said more, but now they were committed to their course of action.

Time continued to drag, and an hour before midday, the temperature started to drop. Fog could be seen on the horizon approaching rapidly shortly after they heard the approaching horde through screams and cries.

Message spells were triggered, alerting the world to the arrival of the horde.

In response, nations began to make their final preparations, awaiting the signal.

The Western Wall is situated in an area without a river for protection. The horde will have space to make a direct assault on the wall. Every defender outside of the Royal keep was located now on that wall, and every defensive spell within the city had been primed. The offensive-based ones would concentrate on the horde as it assaulted the walls, and the defensive ones would focus on this particular wall. It would not hold the horde back, but it was hoped that it would slow them.

As with Castin, the assault began as soon as the horde arrived. The faster members of it were attacking the walls without regard to their safety or lives. The fog rolled in with them, making it harder to mark targets until they were at the wall itself. The temperature dropped, and the air began to freeze, making it harder for the defenders to function.

Magical explosions flashed through the fog, illuminating even more horrors for a brief moment. The horde continued regardless, through arrows, magic, and steel. They scaled the walls and assaulted the gate. The defenders fought, and many fell to their deaths, but they continued nonetheless, undaunted.

The King watched from the tallest tower of his keep. The fog was rolling over the wall and into the city, obscuring everything from his sight. He could still hear the sound of battle and saw flashes of magic unleashed. The sounds were dampened, however, and the flashes were far too brief.

He stood alone upon this tower, needing no other to be with him during this time. His guards concentrated on lowering the walls and what few servants remained armed themselves.

In the air, some of the twisted were fighting with the aerial units that remained within the city—the appearance of flying ones was quite a shock, but not unforeseen. As on the wall, the aerial defenders were far fewer in numbers than those attacking.

From the West came a massive crash that broke through the fog. Looking down at a message scroll before him, the Lord Commander sent word that the main gate had fallen. The greatest of the twisted monstrosities had arrived. It was only a matter of minutes now before the wall fell. Even now, he was receiving more reports from the few men and women defending the streets just beyond the gates on hastily prepared barricades. The horde was engaging them.

The King, with great resignation, placed the rod before him on part of the parapet. It would soon be time. He thought about his life as the fog approached. Even now, he could feel the cold as the air was robbed of its warmth.

Did he have regrets? Of course.

Had he been a good king? He wasn't sure, but he always did his best.

He wished he had more time with his children and the few grandchildren he had.

The fog had now surrounded him, and he could barely see anything around from his vantage point anymore. From below him, he could hear the sounds of clashing as the monsters were now here and assaulting his walls. Their screams and cries were muffled, strangely warped by the fog.

He picked up the rod. Taking a deep breath for the last time in his life, he pressed the activation rune.

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The world was watching and waiting.

The fog had consumed the city, and only the most powerful of Seers and scrying spells could see a little of what was happening.

All those with the power to unleash the primed and ready spells waited for the signal.

It came suddenly from what was once the centre of the city of Nygar, blossoming a huge black fireball. It burnt through the fog, announcing its presence to the world, and the world reacted.

For the first time in history, both mortal and God bore witness to a rain of city-killer spells. All were targeted upon that fireball, and the magic released was so powerful that they warped and twisted the sky. Colours and shapes that were never meant to exist appeared above the city.

Within seconds, the first impact began. Within ten minutes, the last ones arrived at the site where the city of Nygar had once stood. By the third impact, the city was obliterated, and the rest rained down to make sure that the void corrupted abominations died.

Magical feedback made it impossible to tell if they were successful or not.

For the next hour, there was tense waiting around the world as they awaited news.

Then the first reports filtered in. The largest of the horde abominations have been destroyed, but many of the smaller ones on the outskirts of the city, or not yet arrived, had survived. They had been significantly reduced but had reconstituted the horde and were once more heading east.

Nygar's sacrifice had not brought victory, but it had also not been in vain.

To the east, the other kingdoms were abandoning their plans and ordering the population to avoid the horde. In the mountains, one city began its preparations. This started by informing the local Dungeon of what had happened.