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!uGYNBMPzOs 04/28/11(Thu)22:16 No.14747351The rest of the night passes uneventfully, save all of the men staying on alert. The balitae get hasty coverings, and the fields are filled with caltrops. You pace and plan, Kyria carves runes slowly and carefully, a pair of dwarves from the city studying her books. No sun rises through the clouds in the morning, and the crow of roosters and chirping of songbirds is overwhelmed, or silenced by the howling of the wind. The skies are as black as midnight, the rain already heavy, though not a single bolt of lightning has lanced the sky yet. By midmorning, the entire city is hiding, and peering out of windows or from under awnings, getting steadily wetter. All save for Wulf, who stands atop the gatehouse tower facing into the wailing wind and driving rain, his posture aggressive, cloak tearing back away from him in the wind, Tassadus perched on his shoulder. On the top level of the gatehouse's south tower, the one your protege is perched on, Jayne, and two of the life elementalists sit meditating, sending strength and energy to the young man, Lena pacing nervously between them, waiting in her combat robes, arcane designs thick on her arms, and visible, thinly, down at her ankles.
The first bolt of lightning stikes midway between the uulanthi camp and the city of Northmont. The crater it leaves is nearly 15 feet in circumference according to your stonesense, and half as deep. The thunderclap knocks many of the men on the wall to their backsides. The next bolt is shredded in twain, one almost striking your walls, the other nearly the enemy camp. Then the storm begins in earnest, scores of lightning bolts erupt in the sky, half of them going unused, though the others begin to dance and snake, smashing into walls and siege engines, though none seem able to strike towers or trebuchets. >cont'd |