Vaalaria

Cheers of triumph rose from the walls of the Chasm fortress as the Alionya army retreated from the great stone bridge, leaving piles of bodies, weapons, broken ladders, and massive pools of blood behind them. Once more they’d been driven back by the Maliusya army, which had suffered little casualties atop their high walls. The bowmen, the warriors behind the massive gates below, and even the exhausted mages hidden behind them cheered as loud as they could, which honestly annoyed their general to no small degree.

Sage stood atop the fortress wall, watching the Alionyans trudge across the bridge, carrying with them what injured they could. His arms were folded across his barely armored chest, resting against the thin metal plates that covered the front of his coat in places, his fingers tapping against the plates as he waited patiently for the last of the enemy to disappear into their camps. His overzealous troops would have simply shot down the injured, and those trying to remove them from the field, if not for his presence. After the first few punishments he’d dealt out after the first few battles for such behaviors, they’d learned that it would gain his ire in a way few other actions did, and those who earned his ire typically suffered rather terribly.

When all of the injured were removed from the field, and the fortress was once more calm, Sage set his men to work, collecting their own injured and dead for treatment or a casket ride home. He had his own after-battle tasks to set off to as well, namely the reports that had to be sent back to Selithia. Though, there was not much to write about as of late. The sieges had, admittedly, been exciting at first, but when it became apparent to him that the Alionyans were planning to use the same tactics each day (that tactic being “run at the gate and try not to die”) he started to become bored. The Alionyan casualties were at an all time high, as they were providing his bowmen with excellent practice, and theirs were at a constant low, typically ending the battle with only several injured and few dead.

“Honestly, what are they thinking..” Sage said to himself in a hushed tone as he descended the stairs that led to his lone chambers on the far side of the fortress. To him, this war was ridiculous. A war over resources he could understand.. However, a war over a resource that may actually be quite abundant, if either royal decided to send prospectors into the peaks to actually look into it, and over what to name said resource was ridiculous. As it was, Maliusya held the primary advantages in this war.. It was almost impossible to invade the nation, as its borders to the north and the east were guarded entirely by mountain ranges, and its border on the west let out into the sea. The only truly open border was its south border with Alionya, but even that was nearly impossible to cross. Most of the border was engulfed in the Vermillion Forest, the trees of which were blood red as per the enchantments of its inhabitants, the Blood Elves, whose magics the Alionyan armies feared.

The last stretch of the border was blocked by the Great Chasm, which skirted along the edges of the Varian Peaks. It was assumed that the chasm, the great pit that had a similar appearance to a sword wound in the land, was assumed by most to be bottomless, and the only way to cross was over a wide stone bridge built in ancient times by masons obviously gifted with magic, for no matter what they tried, it could not be broken. The bridge was wide enough for five wagons side by side, with at least two feet in between, to pass by with little room to spare. As it could not be destroyed, the people of Maliusya erected the great fortress that stood in opposition to the armies of their enemies.

With such an indomitable position as Maliusya possessed, the only truly effective tactic to be thought of would be to try to starve the nation into submission, cutting off supply lines wherever possible. However Maliusya had forever been a self-sufficient nation, the people actually preferring to be cut off from the world, for Maliusya’s population was made up of magic users and the magical races who were often feared or simply discriminated against in other areas of Vaalria. This fact only really added to their advantage. Mages were never in short supply, and Selithia, the capital city in the center of the nation, was constantly sending him more battle mages.

When Sage reached his office, he immediately threw himself into the most comfortable chair in the room, which wasn’t saying much, and hastily began plucking things from the desk that lay before it. When he’d gathered a quill, the inkwell, and some parchment he immediately set to work on his reports, writing in literal terms that it was take a miracle for Alionya to breach their walls, and that miracle would never come. When those few sentences was done, he folded the report and snapped his fingers. Immediately the report disappeared in a puff of smoke, sent to whatever scribe the king was using these days. He then sat back and perched his feet atop the desk, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

Gale was sitting in the Alionya barracks for the soldier. After another failed attempt to force their way into Maliusha through the stone bridge, he looked at his friends which barely escaped death from arrows from Maliusha's army. Today was not as bad as before. He lost some friends on the attempt before the last one. Today, he was grateful for their saved lives.

For now, there is nothing to do. Just waiting for the next order. Orders from the Commander of the Army.

Isaac Versales

The flames and smell of death and destruction from the failed attack by Alionya was clear from near the personal lines that were held on their side of the battle lines. Isaac Versales, however, was technically approving of the failure of their attack on the walls, despite lurking on the Alionyian side of the no mans land between the two. He and a group of like minded individuals were, while aligned with the forces of Maliusya, were not the standard soldiers who would hold the wall and bridge against any attacks made. What they were doing was much more underhanded compared to what was considered honorable on the field of battle. Rather than attacking the guarded and armed posts, his band of raiders were attacking the various caravans and patrols that operated behind the main military line. If officers were traveling underguarded, they would turn up dead as well, ambushed and murdered by the roving band of raiders Versales led. They upped the guard force that traveled with the officers of note, which sapped the force available for attacking the main defenses, or holding off attacks when they would have to be made. Alionya was more reliant on the logistical movement and supplies that the various officers required for their defensive positions and such. So it was the easiest thing in the world to harass and make doing this harder for Alionya, slipping through their lines at a weak point where conventional forces wouldn't be expected, and started his fine job. His band was preparing to hit a caravan with medical supplies and replacement armaments to recuperate from the failed attack. His men, no more than a dozen former brigands, rangers, and outcasts, were all ready. The brigands and rangers had longbows and crossbows, all using poisoned tips. Isaac waited until the caravan was too far into the ambush area to retreat, and gave an unspoken signal.

Arrows and bolts flew, killing the horses and coach drivers first, and officers that were along with the guard detail second. Arrows kept flying while the brigands and outcasts reloaded their crossbows and fired again, and in a very short time span, no living being was left in the caravan's escort. The brigands, led by Isaac, quickly moved down into the ambush site, taking medical supplies and equipment of use before torching the rest. Another signal and the group fled back into the woods of the area they had been ambushing caravans from. It wasn't hard, they would range out and strike where necessary. Once back at the makeshift camp for that night, his men discussed the newest attack, and what that meant for the balance of power. Isaac could care less about the war's reasons or what this newest failed attack meant. It didn't change what he was doing out here, for one. And for two, the only reason he had any interest in seeing Alionya fail was that he was already sided with Maliusya. If that were not the case, he would have most likely vanished awhile ago rather than hung around and angered the Alionyian logistical officials. But while his men ate and chattered, he had a light meal and started his usual practice and drilling with his blades. The ambush work usually didn't call for a charge into melee combat, so he didn't have every single opportunity in the world to apply his blade skills against anyone. More often than not, he used his experience as a renegade himself to make these hit and run raids work. It was another day raiding those too stupid to protect their cargo, and he lived it like he had before the war, except the target was just wearing different colors.

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Emperor Aeathyth

"Mi'lord, the reports of the engagement have arrived." The messenger handed the letter to a guard, who walked it over to the man sitting at a desk, quietly writing. He stood, and took the letter from the guard, who bowed and stepped back. Emperor Aeathyth opened the letter and read its contents, not even blinking twice at the results. So, the attack failed. He wasn't terribly surprised, and he set the letter on his desk and wrote out a brief set of orders, pausing to look at the messenger. The look was well known to the man, and he answered the unspoken question. [i]"The general at the fortress kept his men from attacking those collecting the wounded, as he has before. The orders he sent were far different this time. Aeathyth believed that the men and women holding that gate have gotten far too used to the same human wave strategy, considering how casually they brushed them off at this point. New orders, which would not be openly telegraphed through new practice regimes on the front lines, were going to be put into effect. Aeathyth didn't have the siege breaking tools that would be required right away, and early on the human wave techniques could have worked. Now it was simply spending lives to put the Maliusians into a position where they believed that was the only real thing to expect from any attacks. The new plan would not be engaged just yet, but the new attack would occur much sooner than the normal period between attempts. The messenger took the letter and immediately left. The fortress Aeathyth resided currently in could see the front lines from the top spire, however, was far enough back to be safe from any attempts to attack it. Arcane or otherwise.

The Emperor retired to the top spire, looking over the battle lines. They were celebrating another victory, no matter how empty it was. You could tell when someone was celebrating or recouperating from a close victory. They looked complacent, and spies stated the attacks, while it tired the mages after the end of the human waves, inflicted low casualties and did little more than to maintain the moral of the guardians of such a fortress. The new plan was simple and flexible, and it would be executed soon. A new army was raised from the other end of the Alionyan empire, equipped with a whole variety of siege equipment. It would be a short time before they arrived. However, after the usual human wave attack, under cover of night, they would strike. Even if that did not break the siege in itself, it would be the beginning. He tired of this game of back and forth, and while that meant he was going to take a risk, it would not be a foolhardy one. He personally was coordinating these efforts, rather than leaving it to his generals. They were solid defenders, and attackers for that matter, but the delicate art of siege warfare eluded them. This was a tricky situation, yes, but the proper application of force could see it broken. And of course, he would avoid making the mistake his predecessors would make. Leading the attack. The Emperor was a leader of a nation, like putting a king in the front lines when playing a game of chess. It was foolish and, no matter how skilled said king was, it would be simply foolish to make such a bold maneuver. He resumed writing his previous doucments and contingencies for the various possible outcomes of this next move, and how to cope with the aftermath.