The Mountain Lord

Within the world of Eustan, there is only one continent, Irisen. It is home to over a hundred races and hundreds of kingdoms and sovereignties. Rich with thousands of years worth of history, Irisen has seen plenty of wars and times of peace. However, peace is not eternal and there is always someone that is hungry.

In the south, one kingdom began a war against the entire continent. The Toran Conclave, known as the Conclave of Sorcery, a small but powerful kingdom that is home to wizards and witches alike.

It was a secretive place that always welcomed knowledge-seekers but they suddenly attacked one of the neighboring kingdoms. Strange monster-like beasts of metal roamed the grounds, charging in and crushed the military. Neither magic nor man could stop them and what followed was a magical attack on a scale never seen before. In just a day, that kingdom fell and that momentum carried the Toran Conclave to conquer more of the continent.

What could've spurned their lust for battle, no one could guess.

However, that was ten years ago. The Toran Conclave was now known as the Toran-Kar Dominion and held a third of the entire continent. Ten years of constant battle and yet no sign of them slowing down. The Toran-Kar Dominion only grew stronger, their weapons and magic made leaps and bounds.

The remaining kingdoms recognized this threat and banded together. Now within the snow-filled lands of the Siegfall Kingdom, a decisive battle was to come. A camp had been set upon where a young man entered a tent, within it was a hulk of a man.

"Stefan, how are the troops holding up?"

His voice was calm and quiet, but it carried a gravitas that showed experience. He looked down, examining a map while referencing several books.

"General Commander! The army has finished their preparations, we are ready to move at any time."

"Good, we set out this instant, the gate is only days away now. Once we arrive, we must transform it into a stronghold."

The General Commander stood up, saluting to his fellow officer and Stefan returned the gesture in kind before briskly leaving the tent.

"Yes sir! For the honor of the Sterken Army and King Duran!"

"For the honor of the Siegfall Kingdom."

Following Stefan was the General Commander, who was greeted by the salutes of his men.

His face was stern-looking, with a square jaw, and sharp eyes. He had a mane of light gray hair and a single braided beard. He wore thick plate armor, at least an inch thick and at most three inches, covering his entire body. The breastplate was shaped in such a way that the front resembled that of a bear's face. Parts of the armor had been lined with white fur and adorned with a number of decorations. From his waist, long pieces of cloth ran down his greaves, nearly touching the ground.

Hanging from his sides were a pair of hand axes with a single-edged blade. The heel of the blade was elongated, reaching down to the belly of the handle. It was thick, made from several metals, and used to best both man and monster.

With or without his equipment, he was an imposing figure standing a full head above his peers.

This was the General Commander of the Siegfall Kingdom, Sigurd Thalarsen.

His achievements number in the hundreds and has defended his home for nearly forty years. His experience and renown have made him a famed warrior whom many call, The Gray-Maned Bear. A title born from his size and unyielding nature. A calm man whose age brought wisdom and experience, garnering respect from his men as well as the citizens of the kingdom.

However now, in this coming battle, he will have to face the might of the Toran-Kar forces.

Exiting his tent, he signaled for the advancement. Just outside of their camps was a great city which if not for the war would be bustling with noise and people.

The site of the battle was on the border of the kingdom in the territory of the noble Calam Family. As the kingdom had mountains separating the Toran-Kar from them. The Calam family's territory was connected to the only path through into the Siegfall Kingdom and into the northern kingdoms as well. As the only path to and from the former southern kingdoms, it was a financial hub where merchants and nobles alike came to make business. Not to mention, the land was blessed with precious minerals and metals from the mountain ranges.

However, it had all been abandoned, for war had brought fear in the hearts of their citizens. Now only its leaders stayed, hiding in their homes.

The army packed up and made their way to the mountains. Sigurd rode on Licht, his horse, a black horse bred for battle, a massive beast that carried its rider like nothing, fit for someone like him.

"Another battle, Licht, if we win this, we may have turned the tide."

He spoke gently to his horse, who snorted, seemingly understanding his words.

"This time, we will be charging so prepare yourself."

Licht neighed unhappily, disliking the idea but nonetheless accepting it.

The army passed by several villages which seemed empty and devoid of any life. But Sigurd could sense it, the scared eyes of those who could not leave, villagers who had nowhere as to go. They watched through the cracks of the doors and corners of their windows, praying to whatever god that they would be spared.

Though he showed nothing on his face, his mind was resolute. As someone whose childhood was spent in a small village, he would protect them no matter what.

It would be days before they reached the border where there laid only a single path, walled by mountains. It was a massive gorge, large enough to fit everyone. There in that gorge laid a stone gate that blocked the entire path and it was this that they would defend.

"The Toran-Kar will arrive in a week. Make the preparations!"

Sigurd yelled out and got off his horse. In one week, they unloaded their cargo and set up the defenses.

"Set up the Hearth Cannons on the walls and the trebuchets go fifty feet behind the wall. Set them to shoot two hundred feet away. Mage Division, make the traps and barricades. Archer Division, set up in the mountain walls."

Everyone went to work, Sigurd rolled his sleeves and helped around, carrying and moving the equipment. The stone gate slowly transformed as numerous constructs were built, reinforced with more stone and steel, towers, and a heightened wall. It resembled more like a fortress than a gate. By the seventh and final day, a man on a horse rushed back to the gate, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"The Toran-Kar are coming! They will be here in a half-day!"

Upon his return, the final preparations were underway. The gate had been fortified with stone and steel braces. The gate walls were thickened with more stone bricks and the lookout towers in the sides were manned by lookouts. Compared to before, what use to be s simple stone gate had become a fortress in of itself.

"Infantry! Stand within your battalions. Line together into two rows! Archers, get to your positions. Mages, on the gate walls! Cavalry, behind the gates! Wait for my signal to open them and charge with me! We will be the first and the only line of defense! Either we are victorious or we die, there is no option to retreat!"

Everyone yelled out in agreement, following his orders.

Sigurd donned his armor and took out his hand axes, hanging them by his side. He stood with the mages on the walls and waited.

Half a day later, the scout was right. The ground rumbled with a rhythmic thundering as towering beings of iron and steel began to appear. Their appearance was monstrous. They walked like humans but barely resembled them.

Two stubby legs and arms with a massive box of a body.

Armed with a shield on one hand and a sword on the other and the top of the body was given a cannon of sorts. It was all powered through magic, etched with the language of sorcery.

These were the monstrosities created by the Toran-Kar, known as a Talos.

Silently, Sigurd raised his right hand, signaling the trebuchets to ready themselves.

He watched them carefully and once they were a hundred and fifty feet away, he brought his hand down.

The trebuchets thundered as a slew of black spheres soared through the sky. Created from cast iron, filled with gunpowder, and etched with simple incantations. They smashed into the Talos units, exploding upon impact. The broken shell activated the incantations, which called down lightning that crashed into them. Dust and debris swirled about but those creations of the Toran-Kar would not be so easily destroyed.

They emerged from the dust, magical barriers that protected them disappeared, leaving many with barely a scratch. Out of the hundred, only six or seven had been destroyed but Sigurd was not disheartened. Everyone knew the capabilities of these things and understood that they were constantly being improved upon. The fact that several had been destroyed was a good sign.

"Again!" he yelled out and a second volley was released.

Volley after volley, more and more of the Talos crumpled under the force of these attacks. From them, several bodies were found within, dead from the attack. Then walking behind these Tower Grunts was a different metal construction. Another metal box of a body that rode on wheels, armed with two magical cannons on top.

"The Audra...Archers, ready your shots!"

Sigurd pulled a torch from his side and lit it up, signaling to the archer division as he spoke.

But there was more than just the Audra.