Into the breach.

It looked like it would be raining for the advance. The field infront of the walls was already a muddy mess from the engineers plying their trade. The trench works and the mines, that had snaked their way to the walls of the city. Ready to undermine it, to bring the walls down when they give the refusal to surrender. To stand in the way out our blessed oath to conquer this land for the glory of our gods. Little did they know there battle was done before our first spade full of dirt was dug from the ground. Their deaths would be the price of their hubris. How dare they stand in the way of the blessed mandate to conquer. They would soon learn the error of their ways. I flex my hand around the half of my war hammer.

Somewhere in his mind it occurred to me that perhaps He should be scared. That this breach would be my very last. That it would all end here.

Though how could there be a better fate then to meet the end in a glorious struggle.

He felt the ground start to shake under his feet. It was time. A sink hole seemed to open under the wall of the enemy. The stone on stone wall crumbled. Screams of the defense on the wind as they were unable to escape the wall that had suddenly turned to rubble under their feet. With a last deep breath he pushes on his helmet. Forward. FORWARD! Show these fools what a mistake they made by not surrendering! Kill! Burn! Bring them to heel!

His heart pounding in his ears as he closed the distance to the breach. His eyes wide. His breath ragged in his lungs. No longer then man he was before the wall fell. He is now a living embodiment of his god and his oath to conquer in his name. His feet pumped up the rubble. Men were were trapped and screaming hands reached out to him in the dusty smoke. He swung his shield to bat them out of the way and was down the other side of the wall. The defenders were still very much surprised be the sudden breach and units to reinforce the breach milled around not sure what they need to do next. With a scream he waded into them brining his warhammer down with a hard swing. He began to leave a bloody path into the crowded bodies. Only keeping back far enough to keep room to swing his hammer. Shifting his wait to get in blows with his shield. They didn’t fight him for a time. They just stood in shock. Then died. He felt bone break under his hammer. Swinging the hammer step by step the worked his way forward his world only the narrow slits of his helm. The air already stale. His heart pounding in his ears as the dilcious feeling of battle sings through his blood.

A crash falls on him from behind almost knocking him to his knees, swinging around seeing one of the citizenry with a pole ax that he had pulled from the lifeless hands of one of the conquerer’s victims. Even though his helm he could see the white eyes of terror that the man had seeing that he hadn’t killed the Crusader in one hard strike. The crusader bellowed out a war cry and ran at the man, what resolve the man had left quickly drained from Him and he tried to run, tripping over his feet. Dropping his pilfered weapon. Dying with a scream of terror as the crusaders hammer caved in his skull. The crusader let out a roar through his helm he stomped the skull until it was barley recognizable as ever being a human.

Forward

More of the crusaders were through the breach and spearing into the heart of the walled city, lighter armored levies flowing in behind the breaches. More confusion was hitting the fortress. The fools not lit ready for there walls to be minded and now not ready for the violent end that awaited there futile stand. He was passing through the walled down faster than he should. He mind tried to tell him. The lust for blood drowned out anything but the need to kill.

Militia ran around the corner armed with a laughable array of improvised weapons. All of them were next to useless against his armor. As long as he kept on his feet. He let his shield fall to the ground and yanked out his arming sword with the now empty hand. Behind his helmet he was smiling like a mad man. The men charged him.

The first swing of his hammer slowed by the gam bison armor they wore but still caving the ribs of the man. Blades scratched at his armor as they searched for a weak spot. To push inside his vitals. Checking another hard with his shoulder sending him sprawling to the ground where he plunged his arming sword into the mans throat. The gargled scream echoing off the walls with the ring of steel on steel. A hard hit to the crusaders helm, stars and ringing but he manages to keep his feet. Lashing out with his hammer reflexively, he felt the glancing blow against more padded armor and threw himself in that direction. He hit the man in the gut lifting him off his feet and slamming him down. The man wasn’t able to recover before the crusaders hammer slammed down crashing through his skull. The stomps that turned the mans face to a ruined bloody mass were not really needed.

Quiet now. The crusader removed his helm to inspect it. The cleaved dent clear in its side. The tight alley smelled of blood, piss, and shit from the dead men. Slowly the sound of his blood pounding in his temples faded. Taking deep breaths of the feted air. Picking up his fallen gear he moved on. The rain streaked night was now lit from the fires of several buildings. The crusader began to retrace his was back to find more of his band. The street was littered with dead and dying. Most of the the city’s defenders. Misguided fools. If only they had submitted to the call. The call kneel before the inevitability of their creed to conquer. A hand reached blindly. The hand of one of the misguided. The crusader swung down his war hammer and smashed the skull. The hand fell limply to the ground. The squish of mud under his feet. The sound of screams. The roar of fires as more of the town was burned. Perhaps the women and children would be spared. But this place would be obliterated. A burned out husk as testament to the futility of standing against them and the mandate to conquer.

The sound of the auxiliary force coming up behind him was the signal that the end was nigh. The breaches to the walls fully exploited by the fully armored like himself. Bangs of muskets and the smell of sulfur. Now the real terror would begin for those that where left. The rapping of the city. Tearing it apart for anything of value. The just reward of the conquest. They should have been stronger. Perhaps some would survive to learn the lesson. A lesson they could take to the next town. Fear. Fear those with the mandate to conquer. Fear their crusade.