Battle:Defending Cenril;The Preklek Breach

Part of the Conquest:The Return of the Prek Arc

Summary: The anticipated assault on the city of Cenril finally occurs. A portal is opened, and 8000 Preklek soldiers invade the city proper. Civilians and militia rise up in valiant effort to hold the line at the city’s access point, but the Prek are able to breech, and flood into the city, providing a flanking reinforcement for the main assault force that have attacked further to the north.

Characters: Roldan, Rolan, NPC Militia.

LOCATION: Cenril: Scent of the Sea’’’

The horde of Preklek forces lands rank by rank, alighting with practiced ease. The gloom cast by the stormclouds overhead is broken by their weapons, glowing with enchanted fire. They first gather about Valaran, pushing with sheer weight as more and more appear, crowding through the defenders. Already the group splits, with a growing column of soldiers marching north, up the sand-covered street. A few citizens, foolish enough to stay, choose this time to panic and run. They are swiftly cut down by the front rank, their screams blocked out by the stomping of enchanted boots on the pavement, their bodies simply trampled under the seemingly endless tide of troops. Their war leaders can be easily spotted, gliding overhead on winged beasts or on their own enhanced bodies, scouting for enemies and preparing to issue commands.

Rolan stares calmly by himself as he watches the Preklekian horde storm down out of the portal with their weapons held high. He smirks as he glances over at them with a grin on his face slowly pulling his sword out of its sheathe, "Come, you shall fall before the Shadow Knight of Cenril." The vampire charges towards at the horde with fierce tenacity with a loud roar leaving his voice. The winds of the beach blows violently while as sand blinds all their vision.

The first few ranks are struck by the sand, leaving them dazed and in the dark. But the rest are fast learners; most avert their gaze, covering their eyes with their hands or shields. Lizardlike, films slide into place over their eyes, protecting them from the worst of it as, inexorable, they march on. Two squads, a full twenty-four soldiers, bunch together to meet Rolan's charge. The rest simply split, pouring past in two half-columns, only to join together again after. The inside Preklek in each row aims a slash at the defender as they pass, fire spitting from spear and sword, axe and dirk, in an attempt to batter the vampire down by sheer force of numbers. Once past, the troops simply ignore the altercation behind them, prefering instead to march for the heart of the city.

Rolan begins to swing his blade around in a violent manner as he closes his eyes trusting only on his instincts and the blowing of the wind around him. He opens his eyes noticing a plattoon trying to escape his grip while another preklekian soldier from behind trying to slash at his back in attempt to cripple him. He grins as he ducks down at the last minute glaring over at the soldiers trying to leave. He gets up from the ground swiflty rushing towards them at great haste knowing the consequences if they escape until the city. He begins to chant swiftly as he runs towards the two platoons as the sky darkens around them and watches some of the soldiers get smack around the edge of the barrier. He sighs as he gains the attention of a bunch of enraged Prekleks with flaming weapons, "This is going to be a long one now."

Troops have made it into the city. Many and more, and they continue marching. But around Rolan, soldiers die, and more have to break from the column to deal with the problem. Four march at him from his left side, shields locked together, duergar-made armor swirling with defensive magic, and thrusting spears leaving trails of flames as they jut out with quick, controlled jabs at the vampire, hoping to skewer the defender in multiple places. As this is happening, a commotion breaks out near the gates to the city proper. A force of men has appeared, armed and eager, and they are cutting into the Preklek column. They come unexpectedly, taking the lizards by surprise as they drive forward in a wedge. At the point of that formation is a man in red armor, with a helmet crowned by arcing horns. The fires of the invaders scarcely seem to touch him as, with scything sweeps, his sword brings red ruin.

Rolan moves swiftly dodging each both spear jab aimed at his body as he notices preklekian forces marching thorough the barrier that the vampire has created. He loses focus only for a second as he feels a slight burning sensation come across his face leaving a scar on his face just undernath his left eye. A great feeling of anger takes over his being as he grabs the soldier that has wounded his face by his weapon and slashes aimlessly towards the creature's eyes and grins watching the soldier fall to the ground with blood now dropping from the vampire's face.

The armor of the Preklek troops seems to be imbued with some sort of great magic, crafted by some malignant Hollow smith. The barrier, though strong, cannot hold them for long. They march through in a thin trickle, ready to burn and destroy. The tail of the column is in sight now, though, still coming up from the south. Made more cautious by the pile of bodies, eight enhanced Preklek soldiers in full armor approach, crouched behind a veritable wall of shields. Again their spears slide out, hoping to catch the now wounded vampire and tear him to pieces, revenge for their fallen comrades. The array of knights have driven to a brave, yet foolhardy position in the center of the column's stream. There, their momentum dies, and they are forced to form a circle, locking their shields together and striking at whatever comes their way. Preklek squads form up and march, losing many soldiers as they try to penetrate the defenders' circle.

Rolan growls as he glances over at the eight soldiers who decided to stay behind and deal with him themselves. He grins as he moves his legs ever so carefully in the sand as he glares over at each soldier carefully with a grin on his face as drops of blood pour down his face, "Come." He waits for them to make their first move before he plans his counterstrike as the sword that he is wielding begins to emit a dark violet color.

The last of the column has made it through the barrier, save only for the eight surrounding Rolan and the platoon surrounding the circle of knights. The chosen eight do not respond to the vampire's command. Rather, they simply wait, keeping locked behind their wall of armor. Every so often, a long spear lances out, spouting flame. But that proves to be just a diversion, for one of them suddenly throws an object out, a small sphere that slams into the ground before Rolan. An explosion shatters the air as fire and debris fly out, pattering on the shields and, perhaps, shredding the defender. A matching sound comes from the circle of knights, sending two of them flying. Invaders pour into the gap, cutting down many. The warrior in red fights ferociously, but takes a spear to the side. Staggering, he manages to kill his attacker before his few remaining men grab him, hauling him away while others guard their retreat...and die for it, but not before buying their comrades enough time to pull the leader away from the fray. The remaining attackers now turn to help the eight, rushing in to attack Rolan from behind.