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Storm at the Southwest Cliff!; Rattsu day 49 pt 16
Topic Started: 19th August 2004 - 07:34 PM (355 Views)
Rattsu
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Is writing Dragon Age fanfiction

The humungous cannon had finally stopped firing.

Rattsu the Black was not sure why, but the whole camp was ablaze with the rumours that the deathmaster himself had showed up at last to poison Thunderball the giant, that the giant had turned into a chaos monster, and that he had rampaged over half the city before being stopped. Rattsu did not know the truth, but it heartened him to hear some good news, because they were not getting any closer to the walls. Attack after attack was repulsed, the walls unassailable and the causeway guarded by cannons and handguns. The things from the north did not seem to heed the casualties, they had continued their fight long after any self-respecting rat would have turned tail and fled.

He could not help but admire them a bit. Thick headed they might be, but brave and stupid to a fault. And that was exactly why he had made plans to help them out a bit in the mounting offensive at the southwest cliff. They were all there, the dead-things, the bad-dwarf-things, the beast-things… they had brought Hergig to its knees together. They had burnt Untergard and ravaged Grimminhagen. They had alliances of favours and of good-will. Could there be any doubt that they could make an impact should they so wish?

Rattsu hoped so, but the cliff was daunting, even with the contraptions of the bad-dwarf-things and clan Scryre. He had seen the rocket launchers, the jezzails, the modified bolt-throwers that was to shoot hooked ladders over the walls. He had seen the shock troops of the beasts, as agile as mountain goats on the cliffs, but with hooves that slipped on ladders. He had seen dead monstrosities taking flight, bats resting in caves, and the bodies from the previous battle getting up and walking around.

Perhaps that was to be all that was left in the end. The dead-things ruling the surrounding towns, the armies dead and at their service. Rattsu shivered, fur on end. He did not want that fate. And they still had to break through the wall if they were to hope to take the city.

The things needed help, and he knew just where to get it.

“Kwikk!” Rattsu’s voice was sharp and harsh, and his battle standard bearer rotated his ears in his direction, but did not turn back from what he was doing. “Is it-it ready?”

“Yes-yes, the old banner is secure and sanctified. But where-where did this new-new one come from?” Kwikk unfurled the banner, the magical powers crackling, half out of control. Already a wind was starting to unfurl the storm banner, and he quickly rolled it up and tied the sacred knots that held the power in check.

Rattsu smirked, whiskers twitching happily. Ittchi had stolen the banner for him last night, from the very camp of Verminious Fang himself, He knew that the Grey Seer would not lead into battle, and that he only kept the banner as an insurance against any attacks on his own precious self. It was a valid concern to be sure, but Rattsu thought that it was time for action of an entirely different sort. “It was a ‘gift-gift’ from the Fang himself. Let’s make the ‘great’ general proud.”

Kwikk almost dropped the banner, eyeing it with sudden concern. He didn’t doubt where the gift had come from, and suspected that it wasn’t an entirely willing one. Clan Hissvin had always carried the sacred standard of the horned rat; they had only heard rumours of the great power of the storm banner. And he was supposed to carry that? Something that would whip up winds strong enough to tear bullets from their path, and toss flyers from the air? And he… Kwikk, was supposed to carry that up a steep cliff? Suddenly his knees grew weak, and he felt the musk of fear dribble down his flanks.

“No fear-fear.” Rattsu smiled, and it was a frightening expression, the huge black rat’s white fangs gleaming. “It has been… modified. I heard scryre engineer Thrish’t talking, look at the shaft. It is new-new, calls stronger wind-winds.”

Kwikk ran a clawed paw over the shaft, it was indeed one of clan scryre’s making. All copper and odd dials, long wires interwoven with the cloth of the banner, warpstone enough to buy at least ten brood-wenches interwoven in a lattice on the cloth. He suddenly felt even more nervous, a new invention could… well, he had seen the ratlingcopters fall like burning moths against the walls of the Brass keep. They had won the fight, but Kwikk still did not to be among the victims after a win here. But at the same time a peculiar sense of power gripped him, his paws almost tingled. This… this thing was…

“Stop dawdling, a war-war is happening.” Rattsu smiled a fiercely happy grin, shouldering his massive sword. They had sent many troops back towards Hergig, but his stormvermin was still here. And they had allies, what better fighters could they hope for? They might be enemies, but at the moment they were all devoted to a common task. Break the walls of Midden-heim.



Outside, the clouds already hung low, as the assault had begun. The hail of bullets did not deter the attackers, though many of their numbers fell and plummeted to the ground below. Scaling the cliff seemed to be impossible under such heavy fire, and already some were faltering on the narrow pathways. The small contingent of rats in rain-soaked armour had made the climb with surprising discipline, led by a massive vicious black rodent with a sword huge enough for any self respecting chaos lord. As they neared the top the banner they were carrying unfurled in full flight.

Immediately the winds begun to sweep up the cliffs, rattling the attackers, but tearing into the defenders with a force that could not be ignored. The clouds sunk lower, almost touching the tips of the highest spires, and almost obscuring the tattered zeppelin that limped in for an emergency landing up top. Thunder cracked, and the rain poured down, soaking the black powder weapons of the gunners, a ripple of panic passing through the defenders lines. Bowstrings softened, cannons fail, and suddenly there was nothing stopping the surge of the attackers!

Nothing but the increasing wind and rain that was... The rats clung to the sides of the cliff by now, the storm they had called growing beyond control. The winds picked attacker and defender alike from the cliff, tossing their bodies to the stony ground below. The banner fluttered out of control, sparks of lightning running through the shaft, arching into the charged air. The fur of the rat that held it stood on end, eyes rolling in fear, yet he seemed to be unable to drop it.

The storm drowned everything now. And whether attacker or defender would profit most from the fury of the elements was unknown, at least by the rats since they by now was taking cover en masse in the shallow caves in the side of the cliff, the one exception being the massive and furious black rat that seemed intent on charging the walls by himself.

The ‘new and improved’ storm banner certainly worked.

Perhaps a little too well.
I am currently writing an epic Dragon Age 2 adventure that can be found HERE!! or on my deviantart.

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Matt
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AMAZING! - as always - I just love this fiction!

Giantrat
Wise Words of the Rebellion:
"When you run the gauntlet of the Rebellion of Flames, you must expect the unexpected" Warlord Morrik Ashenfur.
"Why is it, that as a culture we are more inclined to death than songs?" Warlord Brackenfurr.
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I don't know, but I have the impression of chatting with a cat when I talk to you!
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