Touch of Fate

Screaming filled the air of Wyrport, as the last vestiges of sunlight started disappearing from the western horizon. The city came under attack from an enemy already inside of its walls. All at once, demons, monsters, and heavily cloaked humanoids burst from their hiding places and started roaming the streets killing anyone and everyone they came across.

Like a tidal wave of savagery, the unholy horde swept the city leaving nothing but death in its wake. Pockets of resistance formed, periodically, around groups of skilled fighters, but soon were overrun when one of the more powerful demons or monsters joined the fray.

By the end of the first hour after dusk, almost the entirety of the northern half of Wyrport had fallen to the invaders.

A majority of the inhabitants from that section of town were able to evacuate in time, as a series of alarms triggered almost immediately after the outbreak of hostilities, but there were still hundreds of deaths.

The tide of horrors were stymied on only two fronts. The Mage's guild, by virtue its powerful barrier and cadre of dangerous spell casters, and the Wyrport Chapter House of the Order of the Shield.

The knights had been successfully holding out against the horde in large part due to the reinforced structure they resided in. The original grandmaster of the Order had made it a rule that any chapter house of the Order of the Shield should be a fortification unto itself, regardless of where it was erected.

As a result, the Wyrport chapter was now entrenched in a miniature fort, complete with manned walls, a reinforced gate, and sentry towers.

That this particular fort was located inside of a rather upscale residential district, had been a hotly debated topic for many years, at least until demons started showing up in the elaborate gardens of the fortress's neighbors.

Captain Richard Treston was shouting orders as the demons massed for yet another assault. He had taken part in every skirmish since the fall of night, and was starting to grow fatigued.

Things hadn't been too bad, all things considered, until a breach was formed in the compounds outer walls. Some sort of bulbous frog-shaped demon, that he didn't recognize, had exploded after ramming into the wall. The resulting blast had taken out a handful of his men, but much more worryingly it had blown a hole nearly 5m wide. Ever since, the Order members had to hold a defensive line against increasingly numerous enemies.

His soldiers were primarily made up of the footmen. Strong and disciplined, but they lacked the experience needed to tangle with demons for long periods of time. A handful of order knights provided a potent reserve force. Unfortunately, the majority of the Order's knights had been on mission when the attack came.

"Push them back!" The captain yelled as a swarm of lesser demons and a few of the strange, cloaked figures launched another assault.

The demons themselves were rarely an issue. A vast majority of the horrors from the other realm belonged to the Kal class, the lowest class of demon. They were often used a cannon fodder by their more powerful superiors.

While their forms varied greatly, anything from an undulating mound of greasy flesh, to a grotesque amalgamation of animal parts, to things that vaguely resembled humanoids. Regardless, they were normally weaker than the average human, and virtually unintelligent. They relied on swarm tactics and never ending tenacity to overcome their opponents.

Far more dangerous were the cloaked figures who tended to skirt the battle until they saw an opportune moment to strike. They were stronger and faster than the majority of his soldiers, but a concerted effort by a few knights had manged to bring a couple of them down.

Between attacks, Captain Treston had time to investigate the identity of their enemies, and was sickened by what he learned.

The cloaked figure each bore signs of strange demonic corruption. The taint was different in each of the three corpses they were able to recover. One was a middle aged man who seemed to be growing scales. Another was a youth with pronounced horns and a pair of fangs. The last was woman whose only visible deformity was a pair of serpent eyes.

He had seen such things before, but only in small clans of demon worshipers. Those unfortunate creatures lacked the strength and durability of these cloaked figures.

With a ringing crash, he based a demon in the shape of a spider with a dog's head with his shield, dashing it against the ground, before he finished it off with a blow from his mace. Another demon that looked like a ball of malformed baby arms jumped at him.

Before he had a chance to respond, the demon sprouted a feathered bolt and fell to the wayside. Thankfully, a few of the civilians they had let into the chapter house knew how to work a crossbow. Most of those were barely able to hit the broadside of a barn, but a handful turned out to be crack marksman.

"Push them back!" Captain Treston called again. "Teach this scum what happens when you cross the Order of the Shield!"

For all his fervor, the captain knew that they couldn't keep this up. If they didn't receive some aid in the near future, they were all done for.

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A ship rocked in the dark harbor. Nothing really distinguished it from the others docked nearby, but it was the only one that seemed to be free from the violence that had erupted in Wyrport. Indeed, with the exception of the captain's cabin, no life of any kind remained on the ship.

Inside this bare, unadorned chamber sat two figures. The first was a strangely hunched and grotesquely bulbous figure, hunched over a table. It was grumbling in a croaking, high-pitched voice, as it gripped the table with an scorpion-like claw.

The object of its focus was an ornate map seemingly done as a highly detailed oil painting. It showed the streets and buildings of Wyrport, as well as blobs of various colors. A careful observer would notice that he blobs seemed to be moving slowly across the surface of the canvas.

As a group of red dots launched themselves at a line formed of green blobs, only to be thrown back, the figure couldn't help but release groan of frustration.

"Your letting your anger show, Garl." A sharp feminine voice called from a corner of the room. The voice's owner was a short, slender woman that could have been mistaken for any of the thousands of other humans in the city, if it wasn't for her mouthful of shark-like teeth, and her soulless black eyes that seemed to devour whatever light approached them.

"It seems that Count Graveston was able to suss out some of our plans. It matters not, we will still prove victorious." The hunched figure replied.

The woman laughed, showing off rows of razor-sharp teeth. "Perhaps, but then again perhaps not."

"What are you implying?"

"Simply, that it seems you have underestimated the count. You told me that killing his offspring would be sufficient to give him pause, distract him both with familial instability and his own grief. Yet, he was still able to foresee our attack, and plan to counter it."

"Perhaps I have underestimated him, but again it matters not. The portals are open, and a near inexhaustible supply of troops are at our command. Soon we will claim the souls of this city's inhabitants, and accomplish our task."

It raised its claws into the air, as if in exultation. The move revealed its pale and chitinous underbelly. From it emerged a pair of emaciated and grasping humanoid arms, that seemed to reach out for some succor before being covered by the creature's bulk once more.

"We'll see." The woman scoffed. "What steps have you taken to counter the Crimson Disaster? You should know that any plan of yours will be hard to put into place until she has been contained."

Garl emitted a strange chittering that vaguely resembled laughter. "That woman is indeed capable of disrupting our plans. However, we only have to keep her occupied until our task in this city is complete. Hunzar has summoned a pair high-ranking demons, ones that even the Crimson Disaster will take time to defeat. Once the demon prince has been called, I doubt even a Tier 4 would stand a chance."

With a slam, the door to the cabin opened and a tall figure dressed in black leathers strode in. His head was shaved bald, showing a maze of scars. His face was set in an eternal grin, thanks in large part to the complete removal of the flesh of his cheeks. As he approached the table, the Annihilate priest fixed a baleful stare at Garl.

"Take care, beast. That is the one true God you are speaking of. Once he descends, this world will be cleansed, and only the faithful will be spared. Fail to use his appropriate title again, and I will cut out whatever functions as your tongue. Alliance or no."

"Spoken like a true fanatic." The horror said with another of its chittering laughs. "Fear not, friend Smiler. I pay my respects to your lord, it would be foolish to do otherwise."

The priest sniffed in disdain, but remained silent.

The as of yet unnamed woman, leaned over the map. "I see that the majority of your followers are in place. Are you ready? You'll play a critical role in the coming ceremony."

"I was made for this moment." A rapt expression formed on his face. "Soon I will bathe in the glory that is Annhilus."

The woman started, pointing to a purple dot on the map. "I've got some good news, Garl. Looks like an old acquaintance has shown herself."

He hurried over in excitement. "The oracle child? Here? I thought she had surely fled the country after we lost her in Gold Spear. Quickly, send out a team of the chosen to retrieve her."

The hunched figure started rubbing its claws together in a disturbingly human gesture of greed, already counting the rewards it would earn for this.