"This is a war. Of slit throats and silent attrition. A veiled clash of ideals and wants. To assume that peace is a shared goal, is a fool's way of thinking."

The echo of war horns reverberated through the bones of the defenders, who stood at guard by the palisade that walled off the town's harbor. Savages dressed in black and red garbs prepared themselves by the ports, their weapons glinting even in the dim day.

Elena watched through a peephole in the wall as more of the orcs approached, slowly at first with raised shields. She could catch a glimpse of orc archers in the rear, protected by shield bearers. She cursed silently as another arrow struck the wooden palisade, its strength threatening to rip the boards apart.

Men shouted below her spot, calling to arms as the orcs hurriedly advanced upon the defenses. Barbed wire slowed them down, but not for long. Just as Elena managed to get an arrow nocked, the orcs reached the palisades.

Fighting ensued as spearmen thrust their pikes through the gaps in the wall, hitting flesh and drawing blood. Fireballs echoed in thunderous roars as the attackers triggered leftover mines hiding within the razor wire field. Elena could feel her teeth chatter from their shockwaves alone. With a force of will, she steadied her hands and peeked out over the battlements. Three arrows flew out toward the orc archers, their flight true. Shields blocked a couple of the projectiles, but one managed to strike their mark.

Elena took cover before she could confirm the kill, as spear-sized arrows whipped past the top of the wooden wall. Archers near her were doing the same, peeking through every now and then before risking a few loosed arrows.

'This can't go on like this,' she thought desperately as the sounds of battle grew louder in intensity. She made the mistake of looking down, only to see one of the guardsmen below gutted by a lucky spear strike. He fell silently amongst the scrambling men, forgotten as he bled to death.

Elena swallowed hard as she turned to the peephole, which displayed a horde of orcs readying to invade. Yet, she could see how a majority of them pulled back, allowing a small squad to step forth. She first thought them to be the archers, but dismissed that as she saw them raise polished black stones. Elena's stomach twisted when she recognized the red glyphs that burned within the stone's smooth face.

"Fireball!" Elena shouted in warning. Her voice however, was drowned out by the sudden roar of bursting flames.

The explosion's heat was enough to nearly sear Silas' face, even from a distance. He blinked as he tried to get a better view of the situation, which had quickly devolved.

He could see Gruk desperately trying to hold the front, his throat raw as he shouted orders to the surrounding men. Both orc and human tried to obey to the best of their ability, their pikes and spears raised as they hurried to fend off the incoming invaders.

They had crossed the dirt and wire in only minutes, forcing the defenders to already start risking their hides if only to keep the bastards away for a few minutes longer. Silas' ears rang as another of the Fireball mines went off, sending bits of viscera and blood everywhere around the walls. The sound of battle grew as the raiders pressed their attack.

"Don't let them get through!" Gruk screamed as another Fireball punctuated his words. Remnants of charred flesh dropped from the sky, and not a second later, the stench of acrid copper filled the air. Silas forced himself to stand from his place of rest, his arm in a bloodied sling as it swung around limply. He staggered forward, nearly going blind from the sudden pain that overcame him. He gritted his teeth as he bore the agony and kept moving.

Arrows from orc hands struck against the nearby trees and defenses, taking out chunks of wood and stone as the invaders did their damnedest to break through. Silas could see orcs and humans thrust pikes through the gaps in the palisades, their tips coming out slick with oily blood. He saw that one human was unlucky with a lunge, his missed attack prompting an attacker to grab the weapon and pull. Silas could only watch helplessly as the man was dragged through the tight gap in the palisade, screaming and kicking at the raiders.

His comrades were not able to save him from his gruesome fate, their own focus on defending their own sections of the wall. Silas himself could do nothing, his horror setting in as the screams were lost amongst the cacophony.

The walls fell right after.

Helen felt the heat before the blast struck. Even then, she could do nothing as a Fireball tore apart the wooden palisade, sending out a wave of unbearable heat and shock. Smoldering beams fell apart at the point of impact, exposing the other side. Helen barely had time to shout warnings before another one of the spells struck their defenses, opening up the walls even more. One of them came closer than expected and sent the veteran sprawling to the ground.

Ringing accompanied Helen's hearing, her eyes blinking as she tried to pick herself up. Men flailed around in flames, their screams drowned out by the ringing in her ears. Helen mindlessly patted herself down, making sure she herself wasn't on fire. Once she was sure she wasn't about to roast to death, she began to shout orders to the nearby Ravens.

Her voice came out muffled and muted, the words slurred and incomprehensible. Regardless, she saw as people hurried to put out the flames. Some threw snow upon the burning guardsmen, while others grabbed buckets of water they had saved for the cauldron. One by one, they all saved who they could.

Helen forced a yawn, her jaw popping as she tried to restore pressure within her eardrums. It slowly worked as she surveyed the damage, her mind racing as she considered options. They dwindled slowly as she stared at the damage created by the Fireballs, the smoldering hole within the palisade large enough to display the steep hill and black sands below.

Even through the narrow gap, she could see the horde of orcs wading through the thick barbed wire brambles, their eyes glinting with murderous glee.

"Oh," Helen muttered. "Oh fuck."

James was held back by tense hands and arms, keeping him away from the Jarl before him. Lukas stood there with a stoic look, hands behind his back as he watched the struggling Outlander. He looked truly regretful, his eyes glinting with guilt. James didn't give one iota of a damn about it.

"You bastard!" James yelled, ready to break free from the men holding him back. "You lied! You fucking lied!"

"I did no such thing," Lukas said softly. "The scouts I've placed to watch your island were compromised long before the raiding started."

"But you knew!" James shouted at him, spittle flying as he tried to break out of the hold of the two men behind him. He empowered himself without knowing, his eyes blazing with heat as he struggled. "You knew something was wrong! And you said nothing!"

"You must understand that I intended to tell you once this raid was over," Lukas argued. "Should I have told you the night before, you would've done something stupid, like forcing our destination toward your island."

James gritted his teeth, his eyes bursting with so much light that it made him feel like his skull was aflame. The sudden glow was enough to make the men around him back off reflexively. He could see how their gazes were affixed to his head, their eyes glinting with the reflection of the ghostly figure that stood before them.

Lukas was the only one who didn't seem affected by the showcase of the power at hand. He only stood there, his hand raised to his men. They all backed off, even the ones holding James from the Jarl. He staggered forth, his head spinning as a fever took over him.

With an effort of will, James toned down the light of his glowing eyes. The warmth quickly subsided, leaving the young Jarl relatively calm.

"They… They're all going to die," James choked out, his gaze falling to Naomi. She stood a few meters away, dejected as she avoided eye contact. Right next to her were the remains of Frostbite, the brig's hull covered in snow as it sat in the middle of the shipyard. The fabled gate runes were still inscribed on its starboard side, unusable on land.

James remembered how Falrick told him the necessity of the open sea and why gate runes were usually only found on the hulls of ships. The runes on their own drew so much power from the natural ley lines that it generated a heat that could burn them out in seconds. The water was necessary to dissipate that heat and ensure the glyphs would stay intact while the ship passed through the gates .

This meant that if they even tried to use them on land, the hull and glyphs would burn out before a gate formed, leaving them without any way to return to Yorktown.

James wanted to scream. He wanted to curse out Lukas and lay into him with every grievance and insult he had. But he didn't, for he knew it wouldn't do anything.

'Just calm yourself,' Faust said. 'We can figure this out.'

'There's nothing to figure out,' James argued mentally. 'We're done. Screwed. Fucked.'

'Calm down,' Faust reiterated. 'Remember what we've talked about during situations like this.'

James took a deep breath, the heat in his skull finally disappearing. He closed his eyes and thought.

'First things first,' Faust said. 'What do we have? What do we need? How can we get what we need with what we have?'

James grimaced, his eyes opening as he examined his surroundings. Lukas and his soldiers were all still looking at him, grim-faced and clearly uncomfortable. Malik stood amongst them, alongside Miles. Both of them gave him quizzical looks, as if they expected him to say something that could solve their situation.

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'But I can't,' James thought. He considered the Necromancer's abilities and their limits. Malik was able to activate the gate runes, but that didn't mean much if the hull was on land. Those glyphs would still burn out before a portal could form.

'What if we cut the section of the hull out?' he asked Faust. 'Put it in the sea and have Malik summon the gates.'

'Wouldn't work,' Faust said. 'That hull is made with the express purpose of handling those runes. You could hit it with a Fireball, and it'll only leave soot. Carving it out is out of the question.'

'Alright, next idea,' James replied before he turned to the Necromancer.

"Malik," he called. "Can you copy those runes and engrave them onto any of the longship's hulls?"

Malik blinked, initially clearly confused. The moment passed quickly when everyone around him turned to look at him.

"No," Malik responded with crossed arms. "I don't know the spell that imbues those glyphs with power. Should I 'copy' them, the runes would be useless and false. Someone who has a connection to portal magic has a better chance."

"Connection…" James murmured, pacing as an idea crossed his mind. He turned slowly to his left, where Naomi watched him with a confused look. She caught his gaze and immediately started shaking her head.

"No. No way," she protested.

"You can teleport," James pointed out, walking toward the Outlander. "That's not far off from portal magic."

"It's very different, believe me," Naomi argued. She avoided eye contact, her brow contorting. "Portal magic is… volatile. You'll need to do a ritual and calculate distance, and obviously have the reserves to do so. Doing it wrong could have serious consequences."

James tilted his head at her responses, her sparse wording clueing him in on something.

"You've… done this before, haven't you?" James asked, surprised. Naomi flinched at that, confirming his suspicion.

"Yes," she confirmed through clenched teeth. "Once."

"So you can help," James started, before he was stopped by a raised hand from Naomi.

"I can help," Naomi said. "But this is dangerous, James. Very dangerous. The last time I did this, an entire city was burned to ash. Men under my watch died because of my recklessness, all because I thought I knew better."

"Well, now you do know better," James said. "You have the experience of last time. You know what to avoid and what to do. You won't make the same mistakes again, Naomi."

The Outlander shifted, her arms crossing as she glanced toward the hull of Frostbite. Upside down, the skeleton that painted across its dark wood seemed to laugh at the two, as if it knew what their futures entailed.

A tense minute passed between the two, and for a moment, it was as if they were the only people around. Two Earthlings, far from their homes, in the midst of a conflict that had swallowed them whole. One of them was jaded and had been through years of fighting and suffering. The other was on the edge of losing himself, for he had experienced death far more than any man should. His friends, the only ones he had left, were all he had. And they were in danger. Should they perish, the Earthling would undoubtedly break, an empty husk left behind in name only.

"Fine," Naomi muttered. She looked to James, her single eye trembling with barely contained worry. "I'll help."

The hum of magic filled the air around Falrick as he orchestrated the ritual, his reserves slowly burning away as he pushed against the barrier that was the Dissonance Cloud. It eroded at his prodding, signifying to the Wizard that it was no longer being upkept. With a satisfied sigh, Falrick turned his attention to scrying the location of those he deemed people of interest.

Felix was pacing around his longhouse, giving commands and receiving words from messengers. Nodes One to Three were on the verge of breaking.

Helen was at her front, forming a spear wall with her remaining guardsmen. They all prepared themselves, ready to receive the enemy that was quickly approaching the flaming hole within their defenses.

Silas, injured as he was, was trying to rally the troops around the breach in their defenses, the attacking orcs hindered only by the trenches they had dug out. Even then, they had managed to tear down one side of the palisade, breaking through their defenses already.

Seamus was running through the forest with Lilith, heading straight for Yorktown. He had been running for a while now, his breaths coming out in clouds of mist.

Falrick grimaced. He hadn't expected Seamus to figure out the situation, and had hoped the young man would've made it to the other side of the island without much trouble. The Wizard cursed himself for thinking that Semuas wouldn't have found out. He should've known the Fireball detonations would've outed their lie.

'Then again, who would've expected this town to fall so quickly?'

Falrick turned his attention to Dahlia, who wasn't far behind Seamus and Lilith. She was having a harder time traversing the harsh snowfall that rushed through the island like a passing tempest. Still, she was making progress, even with Marion on her tail.

With a wave of his hand, Falrick cast Whisper Wind, his voice muttering as the reserves were drained further.

"Do not fight the Frue," he called to Marion, his voice traveling to the undead woman. "Assist her on her journey back."

"Are you sure?" Was the response he got.

"I'm sure," Falrick confirmed before he turned his focus back to the ritual at hand. It was nearing its completion, the runes around him brightening in neon orange.

With a crack of his knuckles and a sigh from his lips, the old Wizard prepared himself. He chanted the necessary incantations, his fingers dancing across the circle in dexterous movements. Runes formed and disappeared, leaving traces of their existence all over the dim cave. The smell of cherries and peaches grew more prominent, signifying to the Wizard that he was reaching his conclusion.

With one more wave of his good hand and a few words of godspeak, Falrick had reached the zenith of his ritual. He closed his eyes, feeling the ambient mana in the air grow taut with anticipation. His fleshy hand clenched into a fist, while his metal one stayed static.

Silence permeated the room.

Then, the Dunn crystals all around him began to glow.

Felix tapped his fingers upon the map of Yorktown, his worry increasing as more reports from the fronts came in.

"Where is Elaine?" he asked.

"She just left for the Northern Front not too long ago," a man called to him. "The bard aimed to bring medical supplies for the injured there."

"Dammit," Felix cursed as he looked down at his map, his hand cupping his chin in thought. "Send the order to Nodes One to Three," he ordered. "Pull them back to the town, and prepare for Plan B."

"Understood," a scribe said before they disappeared amongst the crowd of clamouring men and women. Felix still stared at the map before him, his fingers idly pushing his pieces back toward the tight streets of Yorktown. He recalled the plan James had proposed when they first met.

"We lure them into the town," James had said. "Get them to think we're easy pickings. Once they arrive in the tighter causeways, we'll hit them hard." He hit his open palm with a fist. "Granted, not entirely foolproof, but it'll favor us in terms of terrain and knowledge of the backstreets."

That tactic had sounded decent on paper, great even. Yet Felix knew that it had gone to shit not long after the marauders had invaded. He wondered if his bastardized version of the plan would even work at all.

'Orcs are big, real big,' he thought to himself as he rearranged troop tokens to the tighter alleyways and streets. 'They won't have the space to maneuver properly. If we do this right… We might actually win.'

Felix caught himself nearly laughing at the prospect. Winning. As if it would be that easy. Slowly, he drew in a deep breath, easing himself away from losing his nerve. Once that was gone, he'd never get it back.

"Give me an update on Nodes Four and Five, near the northern side of town," Felix asked of the scribes. They didn't seem to notice his near breakdown.

"Our messenger hasn't returned," one man said. "We sent him out an hour ago."

"Send another then," Felix ordered. "And fast. I need them to pull back like the others."

They did as asked, leaving the young Captain to stew in his thoughts. That didn't last long, as a voice brushed against his ears, almost like the passing breeze on a windy morning.

"Your crystals are activated, Captain. Communications have returned."

Felix blinked at that, unsure if he had truly heard it. He looked around, wondering if the others had also caught the mysterious voice.

"This is Wizard Falrick," the voice returned. "I have finished my ritual at the mountain's peak. All communication crystals should be active."

"Falrick?" Felix asked. Without thinking further, he dug into his belt's pockets, his fingers grasping at the smooth spell crystal he usually carried there. His hand returned with it glowing a bright blue, its life renewed.

"I am running out of reserves. Once that happens, I will no longer be able to keep them activated. Use those crystals wisely, Felix."

Felix nodded slowly, unaware of the audience of astounded scribes nearby. He swallowed, his hand bringing the glowing crystal before his lips.

He spoke into it.

Blood-Irk watched with satisfaction as his orcs pressed the advantage, the distant wall of the defenders already falling apart. It wouldn't be long before this entire section of forest was overrun, granting Blood-Irk a foothold on this accursed island.

"Bring Dremor's Murmur close to the shore," Blood-Irk called to the orc helmsman. "It is time for my arrival."

The subservient orc bowed at the order before he walked off to the quarter deck. The chieftain just continued to watch the island, his grin growing as the distant plumes of black smoke rose into the clouds, the harsh wind spreading them across the sky. Victory was at hand, and Blood-Irk salivated at the thought of his spoils.

'Perhaps I will make this forsaken island a base of my own,' he thought as the ship began to drift closer to the shores. That didn't sound like a bad idea. Ever since they lost the hidden island to the Draugr, the orcs under Blood-Irks had needed a new place to lay their heads and feast. Maybe the ashes of this town would do.

"Blood-Irk!" Un'aka's voice snapped the orc out of his thoughts. The chieftain turned with a scowl, watching as the Shaman approached with concern.

"What is it now?" Blood-Irk asked with reproach.

'I would like nothing more than to gut you on the spot.'

"Ships," Un'aka explained, hand pointing north. Blood-Irk followed his gesture, his eyes squinting as he spotted distant vessels riding the waves. "They somehow managed to bypass my scrying. It's possible they have a Wizard riding with them."

Blood-Irk grunted. "How much of a problem will they be?"

"Depends," the Shaman said. "If we are to be rid of them quickly, then I suggest you send out the rest of your orc reserves to intercept them. I can go with them, if only to counter their spellcaster."

"My reserves…" Blood-Irk muttered. He scratched at his chin, still in thought. He had three ships left, all with orcs waiting to take their turn upon the island. "Fine. They won't be happy, of course. Doesn't matter. The island has already fallen."

"I will make sure the approaching ships are taken care of swiftly," Un'aka said with a bow. Blood-Irk dismissed him with a wave, his focus going back to the island. A few ships weren't much trouble, especially when the island would be theirs in a few short moments.

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