Tyrosh, South Port Walls
Crr-ack! Thud!
The heavy iron-shod gangplank of the massive siege ship slammed down, biting deep into the parapets of the South Port's right wall.
"Charge!"
With a deafening roar that drowned out the crashing surf, a wall of Imperial Heavy Armored Knights—looking like walking iron vaults—surged forward. They crashed into the waiting lines of the Tyroshi City Watch. Behind them, combat engineers frantically tossed grappling hooks, lashing the floating siege tower to the legendary black stone walls.
Sieges in this world were notoriously grueling affairs, often failing due to the sheer vertical advantage of the defenders. However, Jon was not fighting a traditional war. As he stepped onto the gangplank, he looked up at the intricate network of pulleys and hemp ropes that held the tower steady. Even for a man who had seen the wonders of a modern world, the raw, functional power of this war machine was staggering.
"Let's see how they handle this," Jon muttered.
The Heavy Knights had secured a small beachhead, but the Tyroshi defenders were no cowards. They had deployed heavy cheval de frise—timber frames bristling with iron spikes—to block the narrow walkway of the battlements. It was a stalemate of pikes and iron.
Jon reached into his cloak and withdrew a pulsating Magestone. As he focused his will, the air around him began to warp and shimmer with a sickly violet hue.
ROOAARR—!
The atmosphere grew heavy with a sudden, wretched stench of rot and wet fur. Two gargantuan shadows materialized out of the distortion, towering over the knights.
Cyclops.
They stood nearly four meters tall, their massive frames resembling grotesque, bloated versions of sumo wrestlers. Their greyish skin was covered in pulsating, bulbous tumors that made the skin of any observer crawl. Lacking weapons of their own, the monsters simply looked at the battlefield with their singular, lidless eyes, searching for tools of destruction.
Hrrr-agh!
Following Jon's mental command, the two giants shoved aside their own allies and lumbered toward the Tyroshi line. One Cyclops reached down with a hand the size of a man's torso and ripped the heavy cheval de frise spike-trap right out of the stone.
"What... what is that?" "Gods help us! Giants! They've brought giants!" "Run! Get back to the tower!"
Panic, cold and sharp, rippled through the Tyroshi defenders. The sight of a mythological horror in the flesh shattered the resolve of the City Watch.
The larger Cyclops on the right swung the spiked timber frame like a massive club. The impact was horrific. Tyroshi soldiers weren't just hit; they were pulverized, their armor crumpling like parchment. When the timber frame finally shattered against the stone, the Cyclops didn't hesitate. It reached into the screaming crowd, seized a soldier by the ankle, and began using the living man as a flail.
The air was filled with the sickening sound of snapping bone and the wet thud of meat hitting metal as the monster swung its improvised "human sword" into the ranks of the defenders.
"I'm done! I'm not dying for this!" a guard screamed, throwing down his spear and bolting.
The chaos was absolute. The Cyclops pushed, trampled, and threw men off the battlements. Under this monstrous pressure, the Tyroshi were driven back toward the first gatehouse.
Thwip—thwip—thwip!Squelch!
A chorus of agonized roars shook the stone. Jon looked up to see the giants bristling with massive iron bolts. The Tyroshi had finally regained enough composure to swivel their Scorpions inward.
The Cyclops, being massive targets in a narrow space, had no room to dodge. Dozens of heavy bolts tore through their unarmored hides. Because they were summoned entities, their physical forms began to flicker and dissolve as their life force ebbed, eventually vanishing into motes of light as they were banished back to their own dimension.
"Healers! Front line!" Sarene shouted, leading her medical corps directly into the fray to drag the wounded knights back to safety.
The Tyroshi guards cheered, thinking the nightmare was over, but the respite was short-lived.
K-BOOM!
A violent surge of electricity tore through the defenders' ranks. Jon had unleashed a high-tier Lightning Strike, the current leaping from breastplate to breastplate. Men collapsed in convulsions as the shockwave shattered their formation.
"Mages! Fireball—Triple Volley!"
A line of cloaked Elemental Mages stepped forward, their magic tomes glowing with an amber light. The Heavy Knights raised their iron shields to form a protective shell around them. The mages leveled their palms, looking like a row of vengeful deities.
Fwoom! Fwoom! Fwoom!
A barrage of fireballs streaked into the gatehouse entrance. In the confined space of the stone tunnel, the explosions were magnified. The heat was incinerating, and the pressure wave sent screaming, charred soldiers tumbling out of the smoke.
"Move in!"
Jon shifted Dark Sister into its greatsword form, the Valyrian steel crackling with residual lightning. He was the first into the smoke.
A group of Tyroshi spearmen tried to make a final stand at the threshold. Jon swung the greatsword in a wide, horizontal arc. The blade carved through spear-shafts and bronze plate as if they were mist. A horizontal wave of electrical force followed the swing, clearing the path in a single motion.
"LONG LIVE THE CHAINBREAKER!"
The sight of their leader, cloaked in lightning and gore, drove the soldiers into a religious frenzy. They surged past the gatehouse, flooding the South Port ramparts and driving the remnants of the Silver Deer Army back toward the city streets. The gate to Tyrosh was open.