Thread: Waging War Against the Heavens (Alvis and xanaphia)

It was a good day to be a mercenary. Well, most days were good to be a mercenary in this land. A veritable horde of cities, and most of them wanting to make war with one another. And having a group of foreign warriors that stood nearly a foot taller than the average local didn't hurt either. The only downside was how blasted hot it was in these lands compared to back home. Throkell turned to look at the few remaining preparations being made by his men. A few of them had made some concessions to local fashion, donning kilts instead of the heavy trousers of back home, and here and there were bronze guards for arm and lower leg. But most of them had the more familiar iron scales, with a rare few affording the chain mail that had saved them so many times. He turned back to the city, and examined the walls. They were higher than he was used to, and stone, not wood. That ruled out burning a section down as a distraction. Which meant they were going over them, one way or another. He had bare a hundred men under his command over all, a scarce company, not even a proper ship full. But he'd seen how these Greek fought, and he and his men were not afraid of them. They advanced, keeping low and fast, closing the gap to the walls. The city had been at peace for too long, too secure in their dominance of the region through politics and planning. It was time to make a mess, and get what they were after. It was not a normal raid for them, not by any stretch of the imagination. They were noramlly hired to break up an enemy line, or to make raids on farms and storehouses to get food. To attack a temple within a city, it was all but madness. And yet Thorkell's Jarl had accepted the contract from some noble of the same city. Their task was direct, but the money was apparently very good. Good enough to risk a significant portion of their fighting men. It might have been too bold for most, but the Jarl had entrusted Thorkell with the job, trusting in his sense of timing, his sense of daring, knowing that he woudl get the job done, no matter the cost. He nodded to several of his men, who unspooled lines of rope, and made their cast. Three pronged hooks flew up, thrown by strong arms, falling onto the top of the wall. With sharp tugs, they made a firm contact, and men started to climb the ropes, heading for their appointed places. Ten ropes, each one supporting a team of ten. It didn't take long, and soon a company of warriors stood on the walls. A sentry came into sight, and promptly died with an arrow in his throat. Thorkell nodded to his archers, and moved on. Ten archers, one to each team, all had arrows nocked and ready as they prowled along the walls. The temple they sought was close to the wall, far enough that it was a free standing building. Not far enough to prevent a strong man from jumping to it. Boots landing hard, Thorkell pointed to the edge of the roof closest to the wall, and more ropes were laid out, these ones spiked directly into the rock. Each man rappelled down to the ground, and stepped away, readying their weapons. Thorkell was the last one down, swinging his large shield to the fore. It was larger than average for a man of his people. A full four feet across, it looked more at home among the Greek hoplon shields. Backed by oak in the same way, this one was faced with iron, save for the boss, which had set Thorkell apart from other easily. The boss was chiseled stone. He pulled his axe free, a heavy weapon that most would be uncomfortable swinging in a single hand. With a grin, he touched the pendant around his neck, a silver hammer, and took a deep breath. Boys, let's go to work! He called. With a roar that shattered the quiet city air, they charged.