Saeculum Bruno D. Rico, 2021 Present
The wall of men surges to the stone wall, siege ladders and crude grappling hooks being set and flung as the barbaric yells and war cries ring out, mixing with the torrents of rain and the bursts of far away lightning. The few men guarding the parapets lept to the edge with spears stabbing downwards blindly in the darkness, breaking through flesh and leather armour, yells of pain mixing with the clangor of metal and war cries. While the chaos surged around, a man with piercing grey eyes framed by a dirty short beard and clad in a tattered set of chainmail armour lept on top of the parapet, throwing his spear through the neck of an attacker as he drew forth his blade. The first of the attackers began to appear over the side, being slashed and stabbed off the sides by the defenders, the man using his sword to cut away the grappling hooks and hacking at the tops of ladders. The fighting roars on until the sun begins to poke rays of light through the rain. A sudden surge was suddenly felt through the men, the attackers going on a desperate last attack. The man, tired from the constant fighting and having left his broken sword behind for the mace of a fallen comrade, continued breaking down the ladders and grappling hooks as they went up, but it was in vain as some of the attackers managed to get on the wall, engaging the 20
defenders in a fight and quickly overwhelming them. The man fought on his way down the stairs of the wall, leaving men screaming with broken arms or silent with caved in heads. As the fighting moved into the fort he remained in the courtyard, swinging and parrying attackers as he stepped up, but his movements grew sluggish. Four besiegers engaged the man, darting in and leaving deep gashes with their curved blades and dancing back when he attempted to hit. Suddenly one of those curved blades flashed out, nearly severing his arm and making him drop his weapon. One of the besiegers with a barely noticeable tattoo on his hand, called off the other warriors. He spoke in his foreign tongue while pointing his sword at the man. The man slowly stood up, his wounds gushing blood from the exertion, and spit a glob of blood off to the side. Suddenly he dashed forward swinging his mace overhead. The officer attempted to block the mace with his blade but the man’s ferocity was too great, snapping the blade in two and caving in the foreigner’s face. He smiled and closed his eyes while the other three men stabbed and hacked at him. His pain and exhaustion fell away, and he heard the same monotone voice he had heard for the last millennium.
