Grimoires and Gunsmoke

The forces dug in around New Philadelphia did their best to prepare themselves against the veritable horde on their doorstep, but as the saying goes, when it rains, it pours.

“Gunner! Sabot, walker! Traverse left!” Staff Sergeant Jones, commander of an M1A2 Abrams tank named "Aggravated Assault," bellowed over the cacophony of battle. The turret swiveled as the gunner, Sergeant Alphonso Hendricks, got the mind boggling quadruped land dragon into his sights.

The beast sprinted across the battlefield with frightening speed, closing the gap on an M2A4 Bradley and ripped the turret off after slagging another Abrams with its plasma-like breath. "Identified!" Hendricks yelled, his hands gripping his controls tightly.

“FIRE!” Jones commanded as the beast snapped its head towards them

“ON THE WAY!” Hendricks responded, squeezing the trigger.

The tank roared, sending a fin stabilized depleted uranium dart hurtling straight towards the creature. The projectile hit the dragon square in the chest, sending up a shower of sparks and what looked like dark red blood as it was sent stumbling back. However, the creature wasn’t down for the count and let out a roar of agony and fury that echoed across the battlefield as it tried to regain its composer

“SABOT UP!” Private Derrick Miller, the loader, yelled, signaling that another round was ready.

“RE-ENGAGE!” The commander yelled.

The Abrams turret realigned with the monstrosity as it struggled to get back up. The beast dubbed a walker, now bearing a deep gaping wound in its chest, managed to lock eyes with them. With another snarl, the creature moved to charge at the offender, but first it had to close the massive gap between it and the abrams.

“On the way!” Hendricks called out as he squeezed the trigger again as the entire tank shuddered.

The projectile was on target, impacting the beast's right front limb, tearing through the scales and flesh beneath. It let out a deafening roar of pain, collapsing on its wounded limb, leaving a trail of its blood in its wake

“Up!” Miller announced, loading another round 40 pound projectile as swiftly as the first.

The walker, despite its grievous injuries, was not about to back down. With its remaining strength, it bellowed and lunged towards the tank in an effort to cover the distance with surprising speed for its injuries.

“IT’S STILL FUCKIN’ ALIVE! RE-ENGAGE!!” Jones yelled, his voice echoing through their headsets and the steel hull of the tank.

“On the way!” The Gunner responded instantly, letting loose another round of fury.

This one seemed to do the trick as violent sparks erupted from the creature's chest, sending it face first into the ground. The crew of the Abrams watched as the monster tumbled ass over head, its massive form rolling like a juggernaut just a hundred meters away.

But before anyone could even think of celebrating the take-down of the walker, Staff Sergeant Jones's voice cut through the crew's momentary relief. "Next target, infantry out in the open. AMP! Gunner, traverse left!”

“AMP, UP!” Miller announced as he swiftly placed the Advanced Multi-Purpose shell into the firing chamber.

The turret of the tank swiveled and the targeting reticle hovered over a decent group pushing forward with a shimmering blue shield projected just in front of them. The strange barrier was lit up like a firecracker as tracer fire from almost every direction slammed into it and other similar shields protecting different units of the alien forces. The barrage, while intense, seemed to only minimally affect the enemy’s advance.

Beyond the initial infantry wave, more of those daunting walkers prowled the battlefield, flanked by a new type of creature. These quadrupeds bore a peculiar resemblance to a hybrid of hyenas and rhinos, yet they were much larger and sported a metallic sheen on their fur. But what was most frightening was they had their own distinctive shield that glowed with a reddish tint. These creatures led the charge, creating a path for the following infantry.

However, they had to take care of the infantry that managed to get within spitting distance first. These… magic users were equally as dangerous and they needed to be dealt with.

“Identified!” Hendricks replied, spotting one of the shimmering barriers which seemed to be powered by several of these mages, standing in formation and channeling their energies into the protective field. “On the way!”

The tank shuddered as a deafening blast illuminated the darkness of night and a bulbous fin stabilized round tore through the air.

-

Holding on for dear life, Yzael put everything she had into keeping her shield up as the world around her turned into a blur of chaos and noise. Drenched completely in sweat, the woman’s hands were outstretched, her fingers moving intricately, manipulating the energies around her. The chants she murmured combined with the similar ones from other mages, were barely enough to keep away the small streaks of death that slammed into their only form of protection.

Behind her barrier, Lysandra barked orders to get the small band of Freelancers to regroup and reorganize behind her as the incessant chatter of death streaked through the field. Everywhere she looked, anyone that strayed too far from their designated mage would subsequently be torn apart by infernal magics that spat fire and metal.

“Do not stray from your mages!”Lysandra shouted, her voice echoing over the battlefield. “Healers! Use the opening to bring the wounded back to safety!”

Yzael, her face a mask of concentration and fatigue, grunted as a nearby explosion shook her shield violently. The force of the impact nearly knocked her off her feet, her eyes widening in alarm. Sparks and embers flickered around the perimeter of the barrier as it wavered momentarily.

"C-Commander! They're not letting up," Yzael gasped, the strain evident in her voice. “I…! I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up."

Lysandra, ever the pillar of strength, cast a concerned glance at the young mage before spinning around. “Elara! Rhonan! To Yzael's side! Form a bulwark!" Lysandra ordered, gesturing to two nearby mages who were both deep in their own protective spells, defending smaller pockets of their comrades.

The two mages nodded and, with clear effort, moved their barriers closer to Yzael's, allowing their shields to join with hers, combining their power. The result was a brighter, stronger shield that pulsed with energy, covering a larger area.

Lysandra then quickly went to Yzael's side, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Stay with us, Yzael. You're doing great. With the three of you working together, we'll have a stronger shield."

However, Yzael looked hesitant as she turned to Gideon.

"By merging our barriers, we become a tempting target. It’s the very definition of ‘putting all our eggs in one basket’," The hulking man replied, casting a wary glance at the dug in metal beasts dotting the distance. They were rolling in, letting loose a billow of fire before quickly treating.

Biting her lip,Lysandra’s gaze flitted towards a nearby structure. Just beyond their position, the beginnings of a town loomed tantalizingly close and the prospect of shelter and defensive structures was just within reach.

If they could just hold up a little longer…

“We have no choice! If Yzael exhausts herself, we’re all dead!” Lysandra exclaimed, her eyes flashing with urgency. "We have to make it to that town. It's our best chance, especially when there was something that could actually slay the Empires Drakes!” She gestured towards the giant Land Drake skidding across the ground after being hit by god knows what.

Doubt lingered in some eyes, but they also realized they didn’t have any other choice. The onslaught they were enduring from this realm's means of war was just too brutal, too overwhelming.

“Hurry! Push!” Lysandra bellowed, pointing towards a build they were nearing. “We’re almost there-”

The commander's voice was abruptly cut off by a world shattering explosion that upturned the very earth.

Yzael couldn’t quite see, but she could feel herself flipping through the air like a ragdoll, and each second seeminged to stretch into eternity. The protective barrier they had maintained had shattered like a stone passing through glass and when she hit the ground with a sickening thud, all the air she had left in her lungs forced its way out.

As the mage tried to catch her breath, the taste of blood and dust filled her mouth. The weight of the realization crashed upon her: her shield had failed, and they were now vulnerable to the onslaught of this alien world.

In her mind, she screamed herself to get up and use what was left of her pitiful amounts of power, but her body refused to listen. The chilling tendrils of shock and fatigue threatened to drag her into darkness, but Yzael used what remained of her consciousness and opened her eyes.

Carnage surrounded her.

The once-organized ranks of her comrades were turned into a bloody mess of armor, flesh, and charred ground. Broken bodies, some recognizable, some not, lay interspersed with the twisted remnants of their equipment. The land was scarred with craters, and smoky tendrils rose from smoldering fires that consumed anything they touched.

Sounds became muted, as if she was underwater. Yzael expected the cries of pain and clashing, but the only thing she could hear was silence and the incessant chattering barks of this realm's weapons.

Nearby, a soldier desperately tried to stem the bleeding from a wound on his comrade, using a piece of cloth to press against the open gash. He whispered words of comfort, his eyes darting around nervously, aware of the ever-present danger. Just as he managed to tie a makeshift tourniquet, a burst of streaking lights cut through the air, peppering the man. The soldier gave a choked gasp,his body jerking with the force of the impact before collapsing heavily next to his already injured comrade, lifeless eyes staring into the sky.

“... Why…?” Yzael whispered as a lump formed in her throat. She was a Freelancer, so she had been prepared for death ever since taking up this profession, but the cold, mechanical cruelty of this new world's warfare was something she had never fathomed.

It was so… Impersonal.

Suddenly, Yzael felt strong arms wrap around her waist, lifting her off the ground. The world around her blurred as she was rapidly carried towards the building they had been so desperately trying to reach.The sensation was so familiar, the woman felt like she could simply close her eyes and allow the ills of the day to simply wash away, but she resisted the urge, keeping her eyes wide open.

Yzael recognized that powerful grip, immediately knew that it could only be that lovable brute, Gideon. A warm sense of gratitude washed over her as she took in his grim, battle-worn face. There was a history between them, a bond forged in countless monster extermination jobs and bounty hunts, and his presence now brought her a momentary peace.

As they reached the relative safety of the building, Gideon gently set her down against a crumbling wall, and slumped down himself, groaning in pain.

“G-Gideon…!” Yzael moaned weakly as she reached out. “You’re hurt!”

The large warrior gave her a weary smile in return. “Yep… So are you, lass.”

Her eyes darted to her side where she felt a damp warmth; blood was seeping through her robes. She had been so focused on her magic and the situation at hand that she hadn't noticed the injury before, but now the pain was starting to set in.

“W-where’s Lysandra?” Yzael's voice was laced with concern as she attempted to push herself up.

“Honestly…?” Gideon murmured, gently pressing her back down. He quickly ripped a piece of cloth from his own attire, folding and pressing it against her wound to stanch the bleeding. "I ain’t got the faintest clue. Soon as I came to, I grabbed you and made a break for it."

A pained moan escaped Yzael's lips as the pressure Gideon applied to her wound sent jolts of pain throughout her body. She gritted her teeth, trying to focus on the situation. "We really messed up, didn’t we?”

Gideon looked through the hole in the wall and saw the devastation that used to be their comrades. The man fell silent as he felt Yzael’s hand grip his own.

“Gideon…” The mage choked out. “Are we going to die?”

Another bout of silence ensued as the weight of the question hung in the air, thick and palpable. The incessant bark of otherworldly weaponry echoed through the night accompanied by earth shattering explosions that detonated not too far away.

Yzael's eyes, clouded with pain and fear, sought solace in his. "G-Gideon…I don't want to die," she whispered, her voice breaking.

The large man finally noticed her gaze as it lingered on the decimated bodies just outside. The woman’s gaze was honed in on one of the mages that had come to assist them, specifically Elara. The woman was staring lifelessly to the side, her body blown completely in half.

Shifting his position to blow the view, Gideon pulled her into a tight embrace, shielding her as best he could from the horrors. "I won't let anything happen to you," he vowed, his voice thick with emotion.

Turning his head towards a blown out window, Gideon saw that the Empire had finally released the Yoxen being held in reserve. These fearsome beasts, with their large, powerful frames and thick, shimmering metallic fur, were already being pulled back. Their retreat was orderly but rapid, the sounds of their growls mixing with the commands shouted by their handlers caused the only glint of hope in Gideon’s eyes to fade.

A part of him wanted to succumb to his own despair, but the weight of Yzael in his arms anchored him. Her breaths, shallow and quick, reminded him that they were still alive, still fighting, and as long as they had breath in their lungs, they had a chance to survive.

“Gideon, it’s quiet…” Yzael said, peering around his massive form. “D-Did we manage to push up?”

Gideon warped his arm around Yzael’s waist and lifted her to her feet and did his best to ignore her cries of pain. Looking over his shoulder through the hole in the wall and the broken square windows, he saw that the battlefield had come to a momentary standstill. Smoke and dust danced in the night, painting a grim picture of the devastation they had just survived.

"No," Gideon murmured, surveying the wreckage. "I think they're regrouping. Or maybe...they broke through on another front."

Leaning against Gideon for support, Yzael followed his gaze. "Where are the others?" she whispered, hoping for some sign of allies amidst the smoke and ruins.

“We gotta go.” Gideon's tone held an urgency that snapped her attention back to him. Even in the dim light, she could see the lines of worry etched deeply into his face. ”These demons will soon be upon us. We can’t stay here.”

Yzael swallowed hard, nodding in agreement. The pain in her abdomen was throbbing constantly, but all she could do was endure it for now. “ O-Okay…" she stammered with a shaky voice.

With a grunt of exertion from his own wounds, Gideon wrapped his arm around Yzael and helped her to the other side of the building, hoping to find a safe exit. They stumbled through a corridor, guided only by the meager moonlight filtering through broken windows. But the light from the broken glass coupled with her concussion seemed to play tricks on Yzael's vision. The very shadows seemed to pop out and the woman physically jumped every time they rounded the corner.

The living room was barely intact, its walls pocked with tiny holes and furniture lay scattered in disarray, overturned and charred. As they moved forward, the muted sounds of outside warfare became slightly clearer. Drawn to the window by an instinct he couldn’t resist, Gideon cautiously peered through the tattered curtains.

That's when he saw them. The massive iron behemoths that the Drakonic Commander warned them about.

Their heads swiveled as if they were scanning the horizon for anything else to breathe its unholy wrath on. The monsters moved steadily through the shattered streets, accompanied by groups of soldiers in strange foliage-colored clothes. Their weapons were unlike any they had encountered before.

One of the soldiers shifted, giving Gideon and Yzael a look at the long and slender object made of a dark, gleaming metal in their hand. The design was foreign and intimidating, with no blades or arrows in sight. Instead, it had a cylindrical front and a curious protruding stock that the soldier nestled into his shoulder.

“Those things must be enchanted," Yzael whispered, her voice laced with both awe and terror. "They release their fury without incantation, no visible spellwork. It's like they've captured raw power in that slender metal staff."

Gideon scowled as they pushed past the window towards what looked like a door. "As fascinating as it is, I ain’t fixin’ to stay and find out how it works.” He said, pulling Yzael along.

The woman groaned in pain and clenched her teeth as they hurried through the house, but she mustered enough strength to keep up with Gideon's brisk pace. Every step she took sent jolts of pain up her body, making her more aware of the extent of her injuries.

When they reached the door, Gideon tried the handle, it wouldn't budge. He cursed under his breath as he stared at the strange and unfamiliar mechanism. Unlike the doors of their world, which either had simple latches or intricate magical locks, this door had a small metal slit and an oddly shaped rotating knob.

"Am I really going to be bested by a damned door?" Gideon grumbled, his fingers fumbling with the foreign device.

However, in the middle of his fidgeting, Yzael shook his arm urgently as her face drained of any semblance of color. “Gideon!” She hissed softly, pointing to the window. "Gideon, They're coming this way!"

Without another thought, Gideon grabbed Yzael’s sword from its scabbard, the blade gleaming with a deadly promise. Set in his stance, Gideon’s every muscle tensed as he prepared for what he believed would be their final stand. Yzael, even with her injuries, gripped her dagger and summoned the last of her energy for the fight as tears started to roll down her face.

Just as the first soldier stepped into the threshold, a resonant hum of magic pulsed from the opposite direction. Bright, radiant light burst forth, momentarily turning the night into day. The soldiers, caught off-guard, immediately turned their attention to this new threat, opening fire with their metallic staves and causing the all too familiar snaps of death.

With the soldiers distracted, Gideon saw his chance. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled back his leg and slammed his boot into the door. The strange wood, already weakened from the day's conflicts, gave way under his force, and the door swung open violently.

With Yzael's sword in one hand, he scooped up the injured mage with the other, literally carrying her like a sack of potatoes as the hulking man darted to the other building. With the soldier's attention preoccupied by an obstinate stronghold, Gideon and Yzael slipped deeper into the town covered by the shouting of commands and coordinated assault.

Then, just as the two reached the adjacent building a roaring sound that seemed to shake the very earth, causing them to stumble the colossal iron beast released a devastating blast, blowing apart a massive section of the targeted building's wall, sending chunks of debris hurtling through the air.

Yzael screamed in pain as she clutched at her wound after they crashed through the front door. “I…! I think I’m losing too much blood!”

Pulling Yzael to a more sheltered corner, away from the shattered windows, Gideon brushed the mage’s blood soaked hands away to take a closer look at her wound. It was bleeding, yes, but not as profusely as he initially thought. The small projectiles seemed to have cut straight through her torso, but they didn't seem life-threatening.

At least for now.

However, the shock and pain seemed to have made Yzael's mind race to the worst-case scenario. “Gideon! There’s… There’s so much blood…!” Yzael's voice quivered, her usually vibrant eyes clouded with fear. “It hurts so much… I can't- I can't die here!”

Gideon held her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "You are not going to die. This wound is bad, but it's not fatal."

"You're stronger than this, Yzael," Gideon murmured, tenderly stroking her hair, stained with the grime of their flight. "I’ve seen you face wyverns and chimeras, so I know you will prevail, just as you have before."

Yzael's breathing hitched, and her pale face was streaked with dirt and sweat. The mention of their previous encounters, those moments of life or death they had danced with countless times before, brought back memories of triumphant victories and narrow escapes.

A shaky laugh escaped her lips. "Wyverns and chimeras. Seems almost quaint now, doesn't it?" she replied, attempting a weak smile.

Gideon chuckled softly in response, before turning back to battle behind them just as it went quiet. “Come, we need to keep going.”

Another moan of pain left Yzael's mouth as they stepped back into the chaos outside, leaving the semblance of safety left behind. With the flicker of hope of reaching their allies, they trudged forward through the war-torn streets of this damned city while the whistles of death resounded overhead only to detonate in the distance from where they came.