The Hundred - Nine War

This is an excerpt taken from my story-in-development, "Resolution".

Upon the world of Nuoath, in the year of the King of the All and Ever Six-Thousand-Thirty-Four, the tense strings between the Bestials and the Children of War were all except broken, but the Bestials of the forests of Anthrine were determined to take the militant country of Martoln even by tooth and claw. Though many a fort had been set between the two, one became pivotal and poignant.

Tesdannon, the Crimson Base. An ironic name of potential infamy.

The Children of War were renowned for their firearms as opposed to the more medieval armaments of their Tarian brethren. Such alienated them from many nations with the exception of a frothing conqueror or two, and that was fine in their views; their weapons were utilized more to the defense of their home, with the Commissioned being the only exception as they collect resources via negotiated contracts. They held no ill to the Bestials, yet refused any talks of peace within their walls. To Gianla, the Half-Giantess currently ruling the Bestials, they refused peace altogether unless she was either exiled or defenestrated (preferably from a tall tower).

Gianla desired no peace.

Tesdannon received the first wave of their Commissioned brothers and sisters as Bestials fell upon the watchtowers bordering their forested territories in the North and East, with allies of knights from the Duke of Boskin and the Countess Regilla given temporary asylum. The fort already held the faction, Parliament Natural, which were Children dedicated to utilizing their environment for espionage and strategic construction. Amongst the Commissioned, members of the factions of the Barrier Brethren and Longwalkers were present.

The second wave of refugees came from Tarian farms near the South, the result of the Bestials cutting off potential supplies to the fort and any encampments near the trees. This time would see members of the factions of Stampeders, expert riders and tamers of animals, and the Traveling Troop, highly-trained entertainers and moral-rising persons well-versed in reenactments and original works including comedies, tragedies, and music. Their allies consisted of farmer families and hired guards of the fields, their wares of foods and full water containers being their only burdens saved from the razed lands.

A final wave came by the West, but these refugees consisted not of Commissioned; citizens and mercenary bodyguards of an entire town once established by a former enemy of the Children came to seek asylum, a plume of smoke marking the final destination of their home. Though there were hints of reluctance, they were allowed inside; now surrounded, the refugees depended upon their saviors as was the reverse.

At last, the Bestials arrived.

The trees initially obscured the movement of the force, yet the eyes of the Parliament Natural were not useless in the dark or distance. Their base was a hundred-twenty paces in length as in width, with walls reaching eight heights, or sixteen paces, and double-thickened with wooden walls. Their resolve was one forged from constant training outside, even amongst the elements of the rain and snow; such a resilience was commendable even amongst the factions of the Cold Cast and the Hard Corps. Their allies, though, were few within this very environment. Those very trees, which were the tools of the Parliament Natural, now harbored the enemy as a force that didn't even bother hiding.

Night would come. Despite the danger lurking in the forest, one of the Stampeders volunteered to venture out and gather reinforcements. The next fort, Stonasen, was two days away as a mountain horse runs, yet the youngest Stampeder promised more speed and less time. Within the hour, he was sent away and the darkness swallowed him; the inhabitants were left with their enemies a literal stone's throw away.

Dawn would come, and so would the Bestials. Forefront came their Talker, assigned to meet out simple demands under the hubris of already having won the fight. Lifting up the lemon rose to signify a moment of peace, he deemed the fort as little more than one more obstacle to raze, a farm to seize, a tower to topple, and the inhabitants as fettered captives or food for the fowls. A response was given in the form of a longarm being aimed at the rose and a round destroying the plant. Peace was no option here, not with determined Bestials nor angered Children of War.

The full force of the Bestials numbered a hundred-thousand, spread into formations of one hundred by one hundred and attacking in divisions in attempts to overwhelm. With the Parliament Natural inhabitants, combined with the mixed factions of their countrymen and their allies coming forward to aid, the defending number of the fort was nine thousand; those unfit to fight were placed inside the center stone barracks. The Bestials refused the use of siege weaponry, preferring to climb battlements and undermine walls with their bare hands or bare blades. The Children and their allies spread their supplies and weapons, bracing any possible entrances with available furniture and cart and barrel. The roar of the monstrous antagonists deafened out all other outside sounds, yet the retaliatory immortal cry of a Captain amongst his fellow Officers stabbed through the wall of sound:

"For the King of the All and Ever! For the Prince of Blood and Tears! For Martoln-home!"

And the soldiers resounded, "Ehl-aihie-Nu-yah!"

Rattling were the walls and doors by foot and fist of the enemy; no escape was ensured, nor was one to be made. Up came the Bestials, carrying and shelving their kin to also carry and shelve, serving as natural ladders for the rest to climb. Getting over the spikes of the walls was almost easy; it was getting past the spikes attached to the longarms awaiting their arrival. Back and forth, the stabbing commenced from the Children. Back and forth, the wave of the enemy pushed and pulled to get over the top, stopped either by sharpened steel or by dead-falling comrades. When openings were finally made...

Crack-crack-crack!

Explosions were followed by puffs of white smoke, seemingly random yet wholly effective. The Children racked in the next round and fired their longarms again.

Simultaneously, arrows and stones slung from slings slammed and stabbed into every face of fur and fang, sending the animalistic antagonists back to the ground from whence they came. The soldiers that once swore fealty to monarchs and nobles gave their all to these strangers who bowed to neither. Even the mercenaries left behind dreams of precious stones and iron coin to pay blood, either from their own wounds or the wounds they now inflict.

The promise was of an effective and timely conquest, yet it remained broken as the fortress's inhabitants held for hours against the horde. Rounds ripped through furry flesh, steel and wooden shaft buried deep into organs before pulling out for repetition. Yet the Bestials weren't without their scores, their nails ripping deep into the arms and even the chests of their victims, several even getting their fangs into necks and faces. Neither would relent, but the Children only fought harder.

First, the attack came from the North and East, and yet the walls held. Then, an attack was made from the South, and yet the walls held. Then, another attack came West, two divisions instead of one, and yet the walls held. Every Bestial that fell was replaced by another, a necessary sacrifice. Every Child that fell was a tragedy, one more loss that others had to make up for in extraneous physical measures.

Night came, the attacks subsided, yet the wariness of the Children of War did not waver. Rest was made, though it would be sparse as the eyes of the Parliament Natural still detected movement from their adversaries. A nocturnal brigade encircled the base, poking for any possible opening. A few more arrows sent such either scattering or stilled, yet more would come in an effort to tire the defenders. Supplies were rationed first to those unable or unwilling to fight before the soldiers.

Dawn would hit them with another overwhelming force from all sides. The Bestials, however, underestimated the willpower of the Children.

Hours were handed to either side, yet both chose violence to fill their time.

The Bestials swung their blades and bludgeons, the Children answering with rounds from their longarms and smallarms.

When their rounds were spent, the Children stabbed with spike arms, along with the spears of their allies.

When their longarms and spears broke, they picked up the pieces and stabbed them into their foes.

When the pieces were sparse, they pulled out their swords and hacked forward. Yet the will of the Bestials continued pushing them to take the base, their fear of Gianla almost equaling the fixed purpose of the soldiers.

Swords and shields started to shatter. Yet, as with the remnants of the longarms and spears, the pieces were picked up and rammed into the enemy; even daggers and hunting knives were unsheathed from leather and resheathed into bodies. This time, the dead Bestials were no longer falling back onto the invaders, but falling inside the walls alongside what were once Children and mercenary and aiding militia now in eternal rest.

The walls were buckling but not breaking, mirroring the spirit of the soldiers. Again, the Bestials pulled back. Again, the Children regrouped, those too wounded to fight sent to the center stone houses that once served as places of rest and training. From those houses, many still able to use arms had started firing reserved rounds from smallarms and arrows from recurved bows, ducking behind the stone when many bolts from the bow-wrists of many Bestials answered back. When the Bestials stepped away before the night returned, such bolts were collected to be used again.

The nocturnal predators returned, trying to sneak back inside with the dwindling number of the Children and their allies being the detrimental factor. More of them would die as the watchful eyes of the remaining soldiers shot and even threw burning pieces of furniture at them, the desire for survival being their detrimental factor. But the horror was not yet over.

As the third day started, the Bestials became confident that the fort would certainly be theirs, despite having lost great numbers in just two days. Once more, they formed their ladders and peered over the walls, but they became immediately frightened. The Children and their allies, desperate for weapons and running low on steel and wood, resorted to cutting open the corpses of fallen Bestials and taking many of their bones, reshaping such to stab and brace whether in hand or angled outwards below waist-level, leaving the spilled cadavers spread about to greet their still-living comrades.

The Bestials pushed forward, though their aptitude for fighting had lessened upon sight of the newfound bloodshed. The Children awaited with little rest, little supplies, and little in their remaining numbers, but they compensated with a fury that the opponents felt before the barbed bones of friends and family found them. Despite the surge, the attackers slowed as more of their numbers were laid to rest; the defenders were now backing up, but this allowed their companions to fire from within the stone houses.

A rumbling was felt, but not of the Bestials.

Coming from the West, having pushed through any obstacle having been set to slow them down, a great troop rode towards the base with the youngest Stampeder leading the charge and firing his smallarms at the horde. Behind him, the two-thousand reinforcements of Stampeders, Longwalkers, and even several Strikeshots with their custom longarms sent a great shock to the remaining Bestials.

The fury of two-thousand brothers and sisters of the entrapped and detrimental Children inundated the Bestials; those facing the charge fell to the charge, those outside the wall fled the wall, and those inside the wall never returned.

When the gate was opened, the stench of death hit far worse than the combined days of the attempts by the encroachers. Another two days were spent removing the bodies, separating the soldiers from the intruders, made easier from the lack of bones in the latter. One final day saw the memorial of the dead warriors of both sides, as the Children still gave respect to all who fought unto final breath. In account, all unable to fight survived in thanks to the sacrifice of the base and its inhabitants; of the nine-thousand combined forces of the Children and their volunteered soldiers, only three-hundred remained standing, and of the Bestial armada once a hundred-thousand strong, their numbers fleeing were nine-thousand as was the original number of the defenders.

Amongst the dead was the Captain whose battle cry echoed to this very day. In his honor and the honor of those that stood for Tesdannon, a statue in his likeness was made out of steel covered in gold to guard against the elements. His words were immortalized at the base of the pedestal, an eternal promise that he and all Children with him or to follow him upheld with the same vigor. His own sword was attached to the statue, also covered, raised and pointed in the direction of the Bestial homeland that any from there sighting the image should never forget.

And to this day, no one has.