Enemy at the Gates: The Kaizer War

The early morning fog drifted lazily over the plains; Mount Jupiter loomed, its sillhouette a massive form dominating the sky. Meagre walls and chilly guards watched over the road leading into the Mountainhome. Invasion was expected from across the Seas, and so every defencive effort had been made. Inside, soldiers prepared to defend the Great New City--formations had assembled and every dirty trick prepared.

A scout in red, riding a tamed Warg, approached the gates. He signalled for threat with his searbat, and the cogs fell into place. The gongs and church bells of the city began to ring; the city was alerted to the nearing danger.

Police raced down the streets, searbats in hand and shouting at the top of their lungs. A call to arms for the militia--the first time in Capuan history. Thousands of individuals assembled in the tunnels, spears and shields in hand, red tunics in variying states, from sixteen winters up.

Patraeus, Leon's second in command, looked over the teeming hordes with shame. It had never before come to this before, and he would do everything in his power to make sure it never had to. In the front halls were professional soldiers, the chosen of Capua.

The city was ready.

OOC: Ahahaha... Patraeus... >_>


Kaizer Praetoria's troops Stood at the ready before him. His obnoxious laugh filled the quiet camp once more, much to the chagrin to the Officers near him. With his plans of invasion finalized, and the troops ready to march, the good Kaizer seemed to be in quite the peachy mood. Whatever words were said by himself were utterly ignored by his own troops, however the words of the Officers that they had served with for many years, encouraged them to push onward and to fulfill their task.

The plans were simple: Half of the force, being 1,500 Ruman Soldiers, would directly attack and besiege the front gates of the mountain. The other half would secretly flank behind a large wooded area and march on toward the River Ceres. These soldiers would be the elite; heavily armored and armed. Once they neared the flow of water into the mountain civilization, the water would then be "staunched", as the Kaizer said. The water would cease to flow, and thus the city would be starved into submission.

At his own plans, the Kaizer laughed, and hoisted a great purple flag, the Ruman nations color. With an offtone yell, he had the forces march. Soon, the one giant column of soldiers would split off and the attack would begin.

The Legions advanced to hold the walls surrounding the entrance. Pavise Marksdwarves prepared to hold them against any attempt to breach; knowing, however, that this was only the second line of defence, the plan was made to withdraw at the first sign of trouble to the safety of the fortress.

Details were sent to firing positions higher up the mountain. Siege engines--ballistae and two mighty trebuchets--were manned by engineers, far away from the scene of the battle. They prepared their munitions and waited in silence, watching the enemy below.

A burnt message in the grass greeted the Ruman column. Stay away, stay alive. To run while they still could.

The main column of the Ruman advance led them over the gas pits. Below, an elaborate series of ropes held a less elaborate series of scaffolds; they creaked as the weight of the advancing enemy was added to their burden, but did not fail; from the parapets, siege engine fire began.

The forces at the river were not left unchecked; Leon's contingent, consisting of the creme of the crop of the Civitas Army, was waiting for them. They were too far from the city to have engineering do battle for them; the battle would be fought toe to toe, as the Anumian Revolution had been. For now, the short Dwarves hid in the long grass, standard lowered for the time being. The enemy's clumsy approach would soon bring them to a fordable point of the river; a point around which was a wicked ambush just waiting to happen. Five units of Redshields, including a First Cohort unit, were supported by three of Marksdwarves and two of Fury Cavalry.

Below the Citadel fields, a mule pulled a pin from an elaborate mechanism. A slight change in alignment began a mechanically lavish sequence of events, perfectly calibrated and set to bring an end to the Ruman invaders above. The ground below them shook and gave way, as the pit of spikes and gas made itself known.

Capuan soldiers evacuated their hiding places right quick. The invaders had, by some measure, found them out; Leon, not one for guessing, ordered the fires stamped out--many were, preventing casualties--and an immediate withdrawal. Oil was a painful way to die, as were arrows; quickly, the shields were put up and the Capuans marched away from their torment.

"Legions! Form a line!" Leon shouted from his chariot. "Fusiliers! Fire at will!"

The bolts from the crossbows were ceaseless. Moving at speeds capable of piercing steel armour, the first volley arrived in one momentous wave, followed by platoon fire from the red-coated marksdwarves. The Redshields, now recovered, formed their line in earnest, their numbers still as great as before. A second contingent--headed by Centurion Varkel--would even the numbers of this fight, and approached from the eastern secondary fording point. For now, Leon's detachment fought alone. Fury Cavalry massed on the flanks.