Apostles of Doom

Beragamos nodded and looked to Rasmeth. “Can you support him out there? I suspect Torean’s streams may be more tightly constrained than ours, but you should be able to work at priest levels, if not apostolic. Having two apostles visible out there is worth every bit or perhaps more than anything we have the mana to do.”

“Of course, Your Holiness,” Rasmeth replied.

~

Teragdor strode the battlements in his apostolic armor, alongside Rasmeth in his apostolic leathers. This was the first time he’d worn this gear outside of his room. His armor and Rasmeth’s leathers had been brought from Tierhallon and Toreanhold, respectively, a few days ago. They were impressive artifacts and Teragdor was grateful for their holy nature, because he was not at all accustomed to moving in plate armor; he’d never worn anything more than leather armor, and that not frequently. He was a priest, not a Rod member.

He held his great shield with its apostolic emblem to his right, shielding himself and Rasmeth from the arrows that were pelting the ramparts. The majority of soldiers were hunkered down below the crenellations with shields above their heads. They were there in the event the Unlife scaled the walls or managed to get over the moat. So far, to his knowledge, none had. The arrows were coming from various Unlife on flying steeds in varying levels of decay. Teragdor had never in his worst nightmares envisioned this sort of battle.

Beragamos had been right, however; the sight of them striding the battlements seemed to cheer people up as they strode by and were seen. Grob had given them the name of a commander on the wall to coordinate with. Teragdor was hoping the commander could tell him what to do because, honestly, he had no experience with battlefield combat. He could fight as well as the next half-orc, or priest of Tiernon for that matter, but as to what one did when working with an army? He was at a complete loss.

He was sure that was the reason for his trepidation. He did not want to make a fool of himself, lose face. He looked to Rasmeth, speaking softly so only the two of them could hear over the shouts of the soldiers. “Have you ever been in a situation like this?”

Rasmeth looked at him, startled. “I am—was a high chaplain; I worked in a chapel!” He shook his head. “As an itinerant priest of Tiernon, no less, you’ve got far more field experience than I do.”

Teragdor sighed. “I pray we do not screw up.”

“Well, at least you’ve got two more people listening to your prayers than I do.” Rasmeth chuckled ruefully.

“Apostles!” A strong tenor voice called to them.

Teragdor looked over to see someone, a short someone, in the plate armor of a Shield commander gesturing for them to join him — her? They made their way towards the stocky four-foot-two commander, who was standing behind a curved shield wall set back from the crenellations; apparently a command center of some sort.

“Good to have you.” The commander gestured to the aerial forces hovering outside the moat and launching arrows and crossbow bolts at the people along the wall. The hovering forces were spread out and moving in and out of range, aware that if too many of them clumped together, they could be hit by a Holy Water catapult, as in fact happened while Teragdor’s eyes were drawn to where the commander had gestured.

“I am Wall Commander Kharkurd. The vicar general sent word you would be joining us,” the commander said. Definitely a woman, Teragdor decided.

“Our honor. Blessings of Tiernon be upon you,” Teragdor told her, making the gesture for a secular blessing. Mana levels were too low for a traditional priestly blessing. “I am Teragdor.”

“Blessings of Torean upon you,” Rasmeth said and gave her secular blessing as well. “I am Rasmeth. How can we be of most assistance?”

The commander gestured for them to join her behind her wall, which had a glass window to allow her to view the battle in relative safety, and currently, privately. She looked out to the surrounding army. “They are still setting up camp, constructing their equipment, organizing their troops. They are not yet ready for full aerial combat. Fortunately for us, there is much more preparation required for an aerial assault across the moat.” The commander sighed and looked out the forces hovering on the other side of the moat.

“I imagine one-hundred-and-fifty-foot siege towers take some time to construct,” Rasmeth said.

The commander nodded and pointed down the wall to where such towers were being constructed. “True. However, they have other options. Zombie dragons carrying passenger wagons that they will try to land on the walls,” she informed them. “For the moment, though, they are simply testing us. They have not brought out the heavy infantry, nor any serious magic; at least, not against us or the Wardens above us.”